Succubus Lost (Files from the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency, #2) by Tiffany Allee Page A

don’t know. I always assumed that he held whoever the first one was long enough to get it right. Poor girl, whoever she was.”
    “Could be,” I said. “But maybe not.” I waved the file folders I’d filled with my copies of the burn victims and missing succubi case summaries at him. “Maybe, like with any type of experiment—scientific or magical—they had several trial and errors first.”
    “Maybe. But we didn’t find any bodies.”
    “Exactly.” I strode past him into the room and tossed my purse and folder onto his bed, and then opened the folder, handing him pages as I spoke. “Three years ago, a twenty-one-year-old succubus disappears in Seattle. She’s never found. But two months after her disappearance a pile of ash is discovered near a Dumpster where homeless people like to hang out. No one would have suspected anything about it, but the ash wasn’t burned well enough and some bones remained.”
    His brow furrowed and he scanned the pages as I handed them off. “I didn’t find anything about this in my research.”

    “That’s because the ashes weren’t identified as a succubus. They were too far gone for DNA, and the sensitive they had examine them could only tell that they were otherworlder.”
    “That doesn’t prove anything—”
    I gave him the next sheet of paper. “Two and a half years ago, New York City. A succubus disappears, headed to a casting call that a friend told her about. She was nineteen years old. Three months later, ashes were found—these placed ridiculously close to a police station.
    Again, the ashes were too far gone to be identified as the succubus, but otherworlder energies were found on the body.” I shook my head. “It’s the placement of this one and several of the others that bothers me. They were all placed in spots where the person or people burning them were likely to get caught, or where the ashes were likely to be noticed as odd. Even the one here in Chicago was behind one of the nicest hotels in the city, situated by a bakery and a club so almost all hours of the day it was likely to be noticed. It’s like the guy wanted to be caught.” Costa snorted. “More likely he’s just trying to show how damned smart he is by taunting the police and committing the crimes under their noses.” My eyes widened. “So you think the idea has merit?” He grinned at me. “I think this is some of the finest damned police work I’ve ever seen.”
    I shouldn’t have glowed at his compliment, but I couldn’t help the heat that flushed my face, or the rush of pride that filled me. I knew I was a good cop, but it felt pretty darn nice to hear someone else say it for a change.
    “Thanks,” I said, flashing him a real smile.
    He reached out and took my hand, and electricity jumped from him to me. Suddenly the room was too hot, and I took an involuntary step toward him.
    His dark eyes met mine. Heat and desire rolled there, so intense that my breath quickened.
    My smile faltered and he closed the gap between us.
    His scent washed over me—soap and toothpaste, and an underlying smell of him—and he lowered his face to mine.
    He took my mouth softly, his lips cool against my hot skin. Desire rushed through me and I couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything, couldn’t sense anything but him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He slid his tongue between my lips, and I moaned.
    Ringing brought me back to myself. Ringing and Costa, stepping back, pulling my arms from around his neck. Ringing, and the flash of thoughts of Elaine.
    Blood rushed to my ears. I’d come here to show him what a good cop I was. To prove, for once, that I was more than sex in heels. That I was more than my succubus heritage.
    And I’d ruined it.
    I grabbed my jacket and purse off his bed and glanced at the files. No, I didn’t need them. I had copies in my car.
    “Wait a sec—” Costa said to me, phone firmly attached to his ear.
    “Sorry, it’s late. I have