In fact, it was almost an hour before they pulled up in front of his house, a two-story Californian territorial on the north side of town. Nix got out of the SUV and stood by the open door for a moment, studying her surroundings. Just about every room in the house was lit up, and the outside was illuminated by outdoor security spots that shone fully upon the open front door. The slight tang of copper hung in the air. Blood. All of her instincts kicked into overdrive. “Something’s wrong,” she murmured with a glance toward Tobias.
He carefully closed his door, the sound of it latching into place barely audible. “I agree.” He glanced at her. “Eyes open,” he cautioned.
She nodded and closed her car door just as carefully as he had done his. Dante did the same and joined her. She drew her gun but kept her hand at her side as they walked toward the front door.
As they reached the house, the scent of copper became stronger, especially when Tobias eased the door all the way open. He shot her a cautionary look and drew his weapon. One hand wrapped around the grip, the other hand supported his wrist, just above groin level. It brought to mind all sorts of images of him holding his other weapon and how well he used it.
Nix cleared her head and followed him into the house, deliberately keeping her gaze off his delectable derriere. She needed to stay focused on the job, not be distracted by admiring his assets.
She drew in a slow breath and focused all of her attention on the house. As far as she could tell, she, Tobias, and Dante were the only ones in the house, but she couldn’t smell or hear nearly as well as Tobias could, so she’d wait for his all clear before she’d relax.
Tobias stopped, his stance alert, his nostrils flaring as he smelled the air. After a few seconds he holstered his gun. “We’re the only ones here,” he said. He blew out a breath and headed toward the back of the house. “The only ones alive and kicking, that is.”
“Though at least one of us is more undead than alive, really. Right?” Dante glanced around the foyer.
Nix slid her weapon back in its holster but didn’t snap the safety strap in place. She wanted to be able to draw—fast—if she needed to.
Dante kept his weapon drawn. “I’ll check upstairs and let you know if I find anything.”
She watched him go up the stairs, then turned back toward Tobias. “I smell blood.”
“Yeah.” He peered around the edge of the room at the end of the hallway. “The smell is coming from in here.” He entered the room cautiously.
Nix followed him and looked around the room. Wealth screamed from every corner—expensive paintings, all askew, on the walls, built-in bookshelves with their contents mostly on the floor, and large, dark mahogany furniture including an antique pedestal desk with ornate carvings on the sides set in the center of the room. The thing was four feet deep and easily weighed at least three hundred pounds. She paused in front of it, glancing around the room. “There was a struggle here.” Squatting down, she looked over the floor lamp lying on its side, the glass globe in shatters. The base of the lamp was dented as if it had smashed into something.
Tobias walked around to the other side of the desk and stopped. “Yeah, and Will lost.”
“What?” She joined him and saw Braithwaite on the floor. Death had already begun to glaze his wide-open eyes. Blood had pooled around him on the wood-planked floor. Through the mess of his throat she caught a glimpse of bone and realized he’d nearly been decapitated.
“If we’d gotten here earlier…” Tobias scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand.
“His blood loss would have been too much for either of us to make any difference.” She put one hand on his arm. “He’s been nearly decapitated. It would have taken gallons of blood administered seconds after he sustained that wound for him to recover. I’m not even sure that would have done it, either.”
Tobias remained silent but she felt a slight push of pheromones her way. She looked away from Braithwaite and tried not to feel guilty for being so suspicious of him. Perhaps he really had been trying to do the right thing. “Well, it’s probably not a coincidence that Braithwaite called you, wanting to give you more information, and then ended up dead before he could.”
“Where murder’s involved, there’s no such thing as coincidence.” He squatted down beside the body, touching Braithwaite’s jaw, then sweeping his fingers over the vampire’s eyes to close them. “Rigor hasn’t even set in yet.” He glanced up at Nix. “He was most likely killed within the last hour.” He stood again and headed toward a corner of the room.