Carson's Night (The Stonebrood Saga) by Tracy Cooper-Posey Page B

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    Damian and Nicholas between them were able to move the stone. Once they had shifted it a few meters away, they discovered the pentacle ran beneath the stone in all directions. Twenty minutes’ search discovered other painted pentacles of the same size on the floor of the warehouse. Six in all, with powerful beckoning symbols in the center of each.
    The wallet told them the name of the man at the foot of the stone was Moss Alex Meinhardt, which meant nothing to either Nick or Damian. Tally knew the name, but could not explain why she knew it.
    After thirty minutes, she called a halt to the search. “There’s nothing here. I was hoping for an office and paperwork that might explain more, but this is just a warehouse. It’s dawn. We have to give up for tonight and clean this up so the authorities have a human explanation they can draw for events.” She looked at Nick. “I want to talk to the partner now.”
    Nick nodded and picked up the lantern. “Damian, you take care of the bodies. I’ll take her to Connors.” He led her back through to the other side of the warehouse, to the far end, away from the door where she had come in.
    * * * * *
    Carson Connors heard the murmur and flicker of light that meant the return of the vampires and stretched his aching shoulders and neck. Maybe now they could sort this out.
    He glanced over to approximately where Peter Grey rested, a black shadow in the dark, and unformed guilt touched him again. What had happened here tonight? No matter how he probed or tried to recall the events of the night, nothing came. No memories formed. There was simply nothing there. No associations to provoke the next event in the chain. He’s broken sweat trying to bring forth the memories, and…nothing. That produced sweat of its own.
    He watched the light draw closer. So who was it the two vampires had rushed out to bring in as a consultant on this? Some heavyweight hunter? Peter James Grey had been one of the best and Carson himself was no slouch — he’d been earning his chops in the field, anyway. He couldn’t think who Nicholas Sherwood would be able to scare up in the greater New York area in late August at a moment’s notice that would be able to help the great Nick Sherwood figure this out.
    The two reached him and Carson could feel his heart seize and his cock stir. Sweet Jesus , his mind murmured as he stared at her. She was quite simply beautiful, with perfect symmetry. Her face was heart shaped, her eyes a stunning sea green, with dark lashes, and strong dark brows, and pillow-soft lips the color of apricots. Her skin was flawless. He had the insane urge to taste it, to slide his tongue along those cheekbones and nibble the corner of her jaw line, and that slender neck rising out of the Dark Side of the Moon tee-shirt. Full breasts lifted the tee-shirt, and the belt pulled the jeans in around a waist that looked he could put his hands around it. Indecently long legs hidden beneath flared jeans. He’d have those off her. Very soon.
    Then he realized with an almost painful start of awareness exactly where his thoughts and gaze were. He dragged, pummeled, tore his gaze back up to her face. Licked his lips.
    She was staring at him. Her lips were parted softly, and she was breathing quickly. Knowledge…awareness…it was there in her face. She saw exactly what he was thinking. It was as clear as if she had spoken. She was not offended. She wanted it.
    His excitement spiked again. He clenched his fists, feeling the rope chaff and his cock and balls throb painfully. He was suddenly hot, way too hot. He’d do anything to be able to take off his coat, the coat of his trade.
    He made himself look at Nicholas Sherwood. “I can’t remember what happened, but I know I didn’t cause Peter’s death.”
    She flinched and suddenly he realized who she was. Grey’s daughter. The genetic traits were there, once you looked past her beauty. Grey’s strength was there in her stubborn jaw line, her