He glanced down at his c.o.c.k, a look of disgust twisting his mouth. "You may not want me the way I want you to, but I won't refuse what you offer."

Regret tore at her heart. "I'm sorry, Joe."

"For f.u.c.k's sake. Don't apologize." He shook his head. "I'll really feel pathetic."

"You don't look pathetic from where I'm lying. And this isn't a pity f.u.c.k. We're friends. I love you."

"Don't look at me that way. I was just...surprised. When I heard you in there...with him...I thought he'd forced you."

Darcy drew a calming breath. "Well, he didn't."

Joe's eyes closed briefly. "Why a vampire? We kill them. Was it his c.o.c.k? Did his size fascinate you?"

"It wasn't...just that. I wanted him. He makes me insanely angry, but at the same time, I've never been so...turned on by a man."

"And now? You want me?"

Darcy blinked. Stated baldly, she sounded like a wh.o.r.e. She stroked his skin. "Yes."

"Will you have him again?"

She shook her head. "I shouldn't. I know that. But I don't know. He pulls me."

Joe took a deep breath, and his gaze raked over her body, coming to rest on her open legs. "You've got a gorgeous c.u.n.t, Da.r.s.e. Especially now-pink and wet." His hands clasped her knees again, but he pushed them closed.

Darcy's mouth fell open. "What are you doing?"

"Being a good friend. Get some sleep, Darcy."

Quentin woke to the rumble of male voices outside Darcy's bedroom door. The SU team had arrived. He stretched and turned to his stomach, rolling his face in her flower-sprigged, pink pillowcase. The sweet scent of her shampoo and natural musk filled his nostrils.

Darcy had been quite a surprise. As surprising as the feminine decor of her bedroom, which contrasted with the Spartan iron bed dominating the center.

Darcy Henry had been delectable.

He'd expected tensile strength and endurance to match his. But her lithe, willowy body had been unexpectedly feminine. Nor had he expected her pa.s.sion-his back still bore the marks where her fingernails had scored his skin.

Just this once. She'd said it with her eyes clouding with desire. Quentin hadn't a doubt in the world she'd be back in his bed before morning-unless her partner put a spanner in the works.

He regretted her humiliation. A super-cop caught with the enemy. That wouldn't go down well with a straight arrow like Joe Garcia. And Quentin hadn't missed the hot look the other man had swept over her naked body.

Well, he could look all he wanted. Quentin wasn't sharing this one. Although, he wouldn't mind if Joe watched. He'd rather enjoy rubbing the other man's nose in his jealousy.

Quentin's stomach growled, and he recognized the aroma of steaks frying on a grill. He rolled out of bed, intent on halting the group from cooking the essence out of a perfectly b.l.o.o.d.y steak.

But there was the problem of a lack of clothing. He refused to contemplate donning the rumpled orange uniform he'd tossed in the corner of her closet. And there wasn't any sign of his bags. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, knotted it around his waist, and headed for the door.

As soon as he swung the door wide, all heads turned to him.

"Now, that's your color," the large, beefy man named Max said, biting the side of his lip.

Quentin swept the room with a glare and hitched the pink bath towel higher. He spotted his bags next to the door. As he retrieved one, he heard chuckles follow him. Quentin stalked toward the privacy of the bedroom to change when the door to the kitchen swung outward and Darcy strode into the room.

Her gaze raked over him, and her cheeks flushed.

Joe followed her out, with his arm curved around her waist. By the interested stares from the rest of the team, his gesture wasn't a common occurrence. Joe intended to mark her as off-limits.

Quentin smiled and let go of the towel.

Darcy froze, but her gaze dropped to his c.o.c.k.

Quentin took his time unzipping his bag. He pulled out a cotton shirt and blue jeans and took his time putting them on.

Darcy glanced away and folded her arms over her chest. Her mouth drew into a tight line.

If not for the spots of bright color on her cheeks, Quentin would have thought she'd been unmoved by the sight of his naked body.

"We don't hold with vampires flashing their privates in our homes," Max said, his rough-hewn features hardening to stone.

"Since, my privates have been a subject of prior scrutiny by this group, I didn't think you'd mind," Quentin replied to Max, but his gaze didn't leave Darcy.

Max cleared his throat. "We're having steak and potatoes before we head out for the night. That artist will be over here shortly to get your description of our perp."

"Yummy," Quentin replied.

"The steak or the artist?" Darcy asked, her chin lifting.

"Neither." His gaze swept over her, telling anyone who looked he'd much rather have her.

Every male back in the room stiffened.

Darcy turned to the door and opened it wide. "Come choose your steak," she said between gritted teeth.

Quentin moved to follow, but Joe stepped into his path.

"The lady invited me," Quentin said.

Joe's gaze narrowed. "I'm in charge of the fire. I'll be right behind you."

"Going to make sure I fall on a stake?"

Following Darcy's straight back through the kitchen and into the yard, Quentin knew the two had a bone to chew. His hopes for a rollicking night between the sheets with the lady cop were dwindling.

When the outside door closed behind Joe, Darcy rounded on Quentin. "I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your s.e.xual innuendos to yourself."

Unable to resist, Quentin stepped close. "Why so bothered, Darcy?"

Her glower could have scorched the sun. "I have to work with these guys. If they knew-"

Quentin caught a whiff of an aroma other than steak coming from Darcy's person. He stepped even closer and inhaled. "If they knew what? That I f.u.c.ked you senseless in the shower, and then you crawled in bed with your partner?"

Her eyes widened and her chin inched higher. "I didn't-"

Quentin raged. She'd turned to another as soon as she'd left him. A human male, at that! "In case you didn't know, vampires can't impregnate a human. We have other means of procreation. We also don't carry disease. The ultimate safe s.e.x, wouldn't you agree?"

"What the h.e.l.l does that have to do with any of this?"

"I'm just reminding you there are certain advantages to a vampire lover." Quentin's face hardened to stone. "How could you go to him with the scent of me still on your skin? My come dripping from you?"

"That's enough." Joe shoved Quentin away from Darcy.

"Joe." Darcy's stricken gaze held her partner's for a long moment.

Disgust was written in the sour curl of his lips. "I'll be in the kitchen. Yell if he needs killing." Without a backward glance, Joe left Quentin and Darcy alone in the back yard.

Darcy's eyes narrowed, and she pointed her finger at him. "Now, look here. We f.u.c.ked. That doesn't give you any hold over me. I could screw an entire football team, and it wouldn't be any of your d.a.m.n business."

Quentin drew in a deep breath to let loose on her, and then realized he was truly angry-over a woman. He'd shared dozens-no, hundreds-of women in his lifetime. Why was the thought of sharing this one so repellent? Then he realized what she'd just said. "While I share your bed, there will be no footballers anywhere near you."

"Footballers? Football players, jerk. And I didn't say I would be sharing your bed."

Quentin stepped closer and caught her by the waist, pressing his lower body hard against hers. "Aren't you?"

"You arrogant a.s.s-"

"Such language! Mustn't let your temper fly, love."

She wriggled to escape his hold, but he held her fast.

"That's it! I'm gonna take you down. You and the batwings you flew in on!"

Quentin kissed her.

She pushed against his chest, but her lips told a different story. They melted beneath his.

He lifted his head. "Are we having our first row?"

"You bet your a.s.s!" Her hands tugged at his hair and pulled him down for a second kiss. She parted her lips and thrust her tongue into his mouth where it lapped the tip of his.

Quentin grabbed her arms and held her away from his rapidly hardening body. "I won't share you with your partner."

Darcy's gaze fell from his. "Nothing happened." She looked up. "Nothing important."

He raised one eyebrow. His sense of smell never let him down.

"Not really," she said quietly. "He stopped it."

Disturbed she hadn't been the one to halt the love play, Quentin's hands tightened around her arms. "You'll share my bed."

She held up a hand. "Only until the investigation is over. And the bed's mine, by the way."

Satisfied she'd surrendered to his will, he said, "Not while I occupy it. I'm in charge of that particular fire."

Chapter Four.

Later, armed with the sketch of Nicholas Powell, their serial-killing target, the SU team hit the known vampire haunts-the "blood bank" bars and the streetwalkers' corners. Joe, Quentin, and Darcy, however, were headed to the seedier destinations-accessed by invitation only-vampire escorts required.

Places the team had only dreamed of infiltrating before Quentin provided entry.

The first was a nondescript house in an average subdivision. Pa.s.sing swing sets and manicured lawns, Darcy exchanged a glance with Joe. This could be her neighborhood. Suburban Vero Beach hid dark secrets.

"How'd you find this place?" Joe asked, as he turned onto a long gravel drive. The house wasn't visible from the road. Chain-link fencing surrounded the yard, which was overgrown with vines and an occasional palm tree. The drive ended in a circle, with vehicles parked b.u.mper to b.u.mper in a long row.

"Tessa told me where I could find a meal," Quentin said quietly.

Darcy fumed. Tessa had been the blonde-haired vamp who'd rubbed her body all over Quentin's while they'd danced in a dark corner of the Piki Tiki bar.

"What do we need to know?" Joe asked, all business as he parked the car.

"Just follow my lead and do whatever I tell you." Quentin glared at Darcy for a moment.

She wondered what that glare meant.

The trio exited the car and approached the front door, which was illuminated by a single naked bulb. A low thrumming rhythm sounded from within the small, square, one-story house.

Quentin ignored the doorbell and pushed open the door.

Joe raised his eyebrows and shrugged, and then indicated Darcy should precede him.

The smell within the house was pure sin.

Sickly-sweet opium, cannabis smoke, and stale s.e.x hung in the warm air. Music with a heavy, grinding Latin beat emanated from deep within the house.

Darcy's fingers itched for her bow, but they had come weaponless.

A woman approached them. She wore a pareo knotted at one hip, and nothing else. Her gaze roamed over Quentin, and she flicked her long, bleached-blonde hair over her shoulder to expose her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Hey, stranger. Need a pick-me-up?"