Read Online Passion's Prey: The Shadow Shifters by A.C. Arthur - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: A.C. Arthur
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his features.
“Mornin’, Agent Markland. I need a word with you,” he said. “But I can wait until you’re a little more decent.”
X stepped to the side, letting the agent into his home. No apologies, no words. He just let him in and stalked back to his room to throw something on. Caprise was still asleep, thankfully. The last thing he needed was her questions on top of asking himself why Agent Wilson was here in the first place—which, by the way, was a good goddamn question.
He remembered this guy as the one Kalina had been working for to look into Rome’s financial dealings. His entire profile had come up in the database search he’d done on Kalina. He was a thirty-three-year-old native of the DC metropolitan area; single, two siblings and parents still living. Eight years with the DEA, army four years, three years MPD, and elevated to DEA after one major drug bust. Those were the immediate details coming to X’s mind. The question of the hour still remained: Why was he here in X’s apartment, right now?
Upon his return to the living room he saw the agent studying one of the black-and-white pictures on his wall.
“It’s South America,” he offered, crossing the room to take a seat on his couch.
Agent Wilson nodded. “Been there recently?”
“I’ve got family there” was X’s reply. “What can I do for you, Agent?” he asked because this small talk wasn’t going to work well for him.
Wilson turned around, keeping his eye on X as he crossed the room to sit on one of the remaining chairs.
“I have some questions for you, Markland.”
Not Agent Markland, X noted. Suspicion wasn’t a scent X smelled often. But he knew it when it was circling around him like vultures over a carcass. With practiced ease X kept his face and emotions blank. He stared back at the agent and said, “Ask your questions.”
“Do you know a woman named Diamond Turner?”
X remained perfectly still while inside his cat paced, watched, and waited. “I met her about a month and a half ago. She was standing outside of Athena’s.”
“Did you see her again after that?”
“No.”
“Did you have any contact with her after that night?”
“No.”
Wilson didn’t believe him. X could see it in his eyes, never mind the ever-growing stench in the room—like rotting vegetables.
“Why?” X asked in return.
Wilson waited a beat, sat back, and rubbed a finger over his clean-shaven chin. “She’s dead,” he said matter-of-factly.
Again, X was sure not to show any emotion at all. Of course he knew Diamond was dead, had seen her body himself at the morgue. None of that came as a shock to him. The fact that Wilson was here in his living room asking him about it was.
“And you’re here telling me because?” X asked.
Wilson wasn’t any superior of his; they were both special agents working within their own government agencies. For years X had worked in the human trafficking department in an attempt to stop the ever-growing trade. It also gave him time to work off the anger that still boiled in his system at the thought of helpless females being repeatedly abused by men who were supposed to be their saviors.
Wilson, on the other hand, worked with the DEA, in the international drug trade. Diamond’s neck had been bitten almost in half. She had nothing to do with international drugs. At least X didn’t believe Wilson knew what her link to international drugs was. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be sitting in X’s living room looking as if he were really about to arrest him. Then again, if Wilson had some idea of what drug Diamond had taken and if he knew about Sabar and his twisted gang of shifters, then it might lead him back to X. But X doubted the latter very seriously.
“This was found with her things,” Wilson said, flicking a business card between his fingers.
He didn’t extend it for X to see and X didn’t need him to. He knew it was his and almost cursed. Instead he did what he always did when faced
“Mornin’, Agent Markland. I need a word with you,” he said. “But I can wait until you’re a little more decent.”
X stepped to the side, letting the agent into his home. No apologies, no words. He just let him in and stalked back to his room to throw something on. Caprise was still asleep, thankfully. The last thing he needed was her questions on top of asking himself why Agent Wilson was here in the first place—which, by the way, was a good goddamn question.
He remembered this guy as the one Kalina had been working for to look into Rome’s financial dealings. His entire profile had come up in the database search he’d done on Kalina. He was a thirty-three-year-old native of the DC metropolitan area; single, two siblings and parents still living. Eight years with the DEA, army four years, three years MPD, and elevated to DEA after one major drug bust. Those were the immediate details coming to X’s mind. The question of the hour still remained: Why was he here in X’s apartment, right now?
Upon his return to the living room he saw the agent studying one of the black-and-white pictures on his wall.
“It’s South America,” he offered, crossing the room to take a seat on his couch.
Agent Wilson nodded. “Been there recently?”
“I’ve got family there” was X’s reply. “What can I do for you, Agent?” he asked because this small talk wasn’t going to work well for him.
Wilson turned around, keeping his eye on X as he crossed the room to sit on one of the remaining chairs.
“I have some questions for you, Markland.”
Not Agent Markland, X noted. Suspicion wasn’t a scent X smelled often. But he knew it when it was circling around him like vultures over a carcass. With practiced ease X kept his face and emotions blank. He stared back at the agent and said, “Ask your questions.”
“Do you know a woman named Diamond Turner?”
X remained perfectly still while inside his cat paced, watched, and waited. “I met her about a month and a half ago. She was standing outside of Athena’s.”
“Did you see her again after that?”
“No.”
“Did you have any contact with her after that night?”
“No.”
Wilson didn’t believe him. X could see it in his eyes, never mind the ever-growing stench in the room—like rotting vegetables.
“Why?” X asked in return.
Wilson waited a beat, sat back, and rubbed a finger over his clean-shaven chin. “She’s dead,” he said matter-of-factly.
Again, X was sure not to show any emotion at all. Of course he knew Diamond was dead, had seen her body himself at the morgue. None of that came as a shock to him. The fact that Wilson was here in his living room asking him about it was.
“And you’re here telling me because?” X asked.
Wilson wasn’t any superior of his; they were both special agents working within their own government agencies. For years X had worked in the human trafficking department in an attempt to stop the ever-growing trade. It also gave him time to work off the anger that still boiled in his system at the thought of helpless females being repeatedly abused by men who were supposed to be their saviors.
Wilson, on the other hand, worked with the DEA, in the international drug trade. Diamond’s neck had been bitten almost in half. She had nothing to do with international drugs. At least X didn’t believe Wilson knew what her link to international drugs was. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be sitting in X’s living room looking as if he were really about to arrest him. Then again, if Wilson had some idea of what drug Diamond had taken and if he knew about Sabar and his twisted gang of shifters, then it might lead him back to X. But X doubted the latter very seriously.
“This was found with her things,” Wilson said, flicking a business card between his fingers.
He didn’t extend it for X to see and X didn’t need him to. He knew it was his and almost cursed. Instead he did what he always did when faced
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