Free Dylan's Witch: 10 (Supernatural Bonds) by Jory Strong Page B

said about needing another pair of eyes, given the cant of her head, she guided him using her sense of smell. Not that he needed directions once the breeze shifted. Heat and water accelerated decomposition.
    Khemirra caught sight of the corpse first as they nosed through saw grass. “Male, not female. Move over to the right or we’re going to hit him.”
    Shit. He didn’t want to have to explain that one.
    He maneuvered to the side and stopped next to the corpse. The build said male. Confirming it would have to wait until the coroner arrived. The body was facedown, meaning they couldn’t get a head start on identification either, though Conner didn’t relish being present for the flip-over. The eyes were probably already gone, taken by opportunistic feeders.
    “Cause of death is most likely going to be a slit throat or strangulation by something like a garrote,” he said.
    “Um, hmm. I see that. The fish and god knows what else have definitely taken advantage of the break in the skin.
    He shot her a surprised look.
    “Reporter. Remember? I’m not just your fancy arm piece and sexual fantasy.”
    He grinned. Damn he loved her smart mouth and feisty attitude.
    “I better report this one now.” He took a picture using his cell phone, hit one of his apps to get a GPS reading on their location.
    Considering he was currently sidelined after killing a suspect, the same suspect who’d shot and fatally wounded Miguel’s significant other—not that either of them had known it was Ianthe—Ian—until the end, Conner called the captain to report the dead body.
    The crunch of Rolaids on the other end of the line signaled Captain Ellis was already imagining the headlines. “I’ll send Brady and Storm.”
    Conner almost felt guilty knowing he might be only minutes away from a second call to the captain if they found the remains they’d actually entered the swamp to look for. More was not better, not when it came to what the media would consider newsworthy.
    He pocketed the phone. “Now to hit the mangrove stand and see if we get lucky.”
    She shook her head. “Only a homicide cop would label finding skeletal remains that way.”
    “Onward. We’ll have to make this quick.”
    He might officially be on leave, but sticking with the body—and using whatever measures necessary to preserve it should an alligator arrive—was a given.
    Conner eased the boat away from the corpse and headed straight for the mangroves. X still marked the spot.
    “Can you tell how old the bones are?” he asked.
    “Not by sight.”
    “But you could if you sniffed them?”
    Her head snapped around. “ You have got to be kidding me .”
    “Homicide cop. Remember?” he said, playing the card she’d used against him.
    He wouldn’t even suggest this except for the way they’d found the remains. Miguel was his friend as well as his partner, and this whole spirit-walking with a former demon and approached by the dead set off alarm bells. It weirded him out a hell of a lot more than elves, faeries or werewolves.
    “You’re going to owe me, big-time ,” Khemirra said.
    He grinned. “I always pay my debts, baby.”
    She glanced down at his crotch and sent a rush of heat there. “Yeah, you do. Better maneuver as close as you can to the skeleton. I don’t think we want to leave a bunch of paw prints for your CSI guys.”
    She shimmered from woman to equally exquisite wolf as he guided the boat alongside the remains. An elegant nose reached now, delicately sniffing, moving from bone to bone and finally the skull.
    Khemirra changed and this time he could tell the use of magic took its toll on her by the sag of her shoulders and strained face. A surge of protectiveness rushed through him.
    He went to the front of the boat and hugged her against him. He shouldn’t have asked this of her, the guys in forensics would have nailed down the information. It just might have taken awhile.
    “It had to be done, Conner,” she murmured. “I’m