Free Hot Demon Nights by Elle James Page B

what I was doing, he didn’t say anything, allowing me time to stew in my own juices.
    Victor’s apartment was in a fancy brownstone in Brooklyn. I’d called F&L to make sure he wasn’t expected at work that day. As early as it was, he should still be at home. Maybe even working in his basement reanimating dead people for fun. Wouldn’t it be nice to bag the perp in action? Then the investigation would be over and I’d be free of my partner.
    As I parked illegally against the curb, I pulled the gun from the shoulder holster, checked that a round was chambered and the safety was on before tucking it back in place. “Ready?”
    “I’ll let you go first.”
    I smirked. “Afraid I might shoot you?” I slid from the car without waiting for his response.
    “Yes.” He waited for me to lead the way.
    It was just as well. I was anxious to get the interview over, make my arrest and be done with it and Blaise. I buzzed the apartment number we’d ascertained was Victor’s and waited for a response.
    Nothing.
    Again, I hit the buzzer.
    One of the inhabitants of the building let herself out the front door.
    I stuck my foot in before the door closed behind her, and Blaise and I entered the building. As we climbed the stairs to apartment 4C, my hackles rose. I noticed the door wasn’t closed all the way. It stood ajar, no indication of forced entry.
    Blaise touched my arm, motioning me to the side.
    I frowned, shook my head and drew my weapon from the holster. Then I nudged the door open with my toe, standing to the side in case someone decided to take a shot at me. Nothing moved in the shadowy interior.
    I ducked low and entered, dodging to one side as soon as I cleared the doorway.
    Blaise entered and moved the opposite direction.
    Nothing looked amiss until I noticed the man lying on the couch.
    “Mr. Stewart?” I called out.
    The man didn’t budge, twitch or give any indication that he was merely asleep. I sniffed the air, that scent of death making my nostrils twitch. Reaching out to my side, I flipped on the light beside the door. That’s when I saw the blood. My breath caught in my throat and I automatically rushed forward.
    An arm across my chest stopped me. Blaise lifted a finger to his lips.
    I gathered my senses and held fast to where I was, self-preservation instincts kicking in.
    Blaise circled around the living room and entered the darkened doorway of the bedroom.
    I held my Glock in front of me as I entered the tiny kitchen, checking behind the bar for any intruders.
    When Blaise emerged from the bedroom, he shook his head. “All clear.”
    I crossed the floor to the man on the couch. Without touching him, I knew he was dead. The blood had dropped from his nose and the corner of his mouth onto the floor beside him, leaving a small pool of congealing liquid. No signs of a bullet or knife entries. For all intents and purposes, he appeared to have fallen to sleep on the couch and died of internal bleeding. The M.E. would have to perform an autopsy to determine the exact cause of death. I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Detective Thomas. “Victor Stewart is dead.” I gave our boss the details, while Blaise moved around the room, careful not to disturb anything that could be evidence.
    By the time I hung up, Blaise had made it to the kitchen. “There’s a wine glass in the sink but no wine bottle in the refrigerator or trash.”
    I frowned. “You think he was drinking with someone who took the bottle and their own glass with them when they left?”
    “Looks that way. Leaving no prints or DNA.”
    I walked to the door and nudged it with my foot, closing it gently. The lock didn’t click into place and after a moment, the door slid open. “Whoever left was in a hurry and didn’t close the door securely.” I glanced across at Blaise. “But it definitely wasn’t tampered with to let the person in. Whoever did this, Stewart invited them in, had a glass of wine with them. You thinkin’ what