Page 36 of Don't Bait Me (Nora Jacobs 3)

Nick isn’t the only one concerned. Parker and Rook both look as grim as Nick, though they aren’t protesting. They know me well enough to understand that I won’t stop until I get what I need. Illren, though, looks pissed. “Surely you are not doing that again,” he says, his voice both soft and hard at the same time. “You were sick, and you nearly passed out.”

“And I’ll probably lose consciousness this time, so I’d better pick someone that will let me see what I need to see.”

Illren looks like he wants to argue. I don’t give him the chance. “Nicky?” I ask, holding my hands out to him.

Nick steps forward and slides his arm around my waist, ready to help me walk where I need to go. It says something about my physical condition that he doesn’t give me shit about calling him Nicky. “Where to, little spitfire?”

I point to the tree where the gunman stood. Hopefully he was worked up enough to leave an imprint. Nick helps me across the plaza and holds me steady while I run my hands over the tree. I touch everywhere that the man came into contact with the tree and get nothing. These two men are the most emotionless people I’ve ever known of. It’s like they have zero conscience. Then again, they’re killing monsters. Would an exterminator get worked up over killing a rat?

With a sigh, I turn my eyes back to the crime scene. It’s going to have to be another body. I will probably lose consciousness after another death imprint. Scanning the ground, I see a male fey in the bushes not too far from the tree. I walk over and see his chest is riddled with bullets. “He might work,” I whisper, trying hard to keep my voice steady. “The shooter started firing after the archer. I might have a few seconds to at least get a look at the men.”

“May as well sit down,” Nick mutters. “Since you’re going to collapse anyway.”

I try to give him a smirk. I’m sure it looks more like a grimace. He helps me to the ground and squats down beside me. “Any details you can get will help.”

I give him a grim nod and take the dead fey’s hand.

This imprint starts earlier than the others. This fey noticed the three females from the casino before everyone else. As they walk up to the park, the black SUV quietly glides to a stop at the entrance to the plaza. The archer slips out of the back seat and creeps up to the café like some kind of ninja assassin. He peeks around the corner and takes in the scene of all the dancing fey. For a brief flash, he moves into the security light on the side of the café. I drink in every detail of his face. He’s got short-croppeddark hair and dark-brown eyes. His cheekbones cut sharply across his face, and his nose is slightly pointed. He’s also got a tattoo running up the side of his neck. It’s some sort of wording in a language I can’t read.

The man ducks back into the shadows and signals to the SUV. The second shooter gets out of the driver’s seat, holding his automatic rifle. While he slinks into position behind the tree, the archer steps forward and releases his first arrow. I try to get a good look at thegunman, but he stays hidden in the dark. The fey whose imprint I’m watching is the gunman’s first victim. The fey dies so suddenly it’s like I’m thrown backward as I come out of the vision.

“I got a face,” I mumble just as my world fades to black.

I wake up in myown bed, still in last night’s clothes. I feel grimy, but at least the aftereffects of using my abilities are gone. I’m also very rested. One look at the clock, and I figure out why. It’s after one p.m., which means I passed out for like twelve hours.

After a long, hot shower, I make my way into the kitchen. My stomach is empty and demanding I take care of it. I’m frying up some French toast at the stove when someone wanders into the kitchen. “You’re up,” Rook says.

I flash him a smile over my shoulder. “Hey. What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you.”

“Terrance had to go in to work, so he asked me to come stay with you because you still hadn’t woken up yet, and Oliver was gone and Parker was still sleeping.”

Rook pulls me away from the stove and into his arms. I hold my breath, waiting for my initial panic, but all I feel is shivers of pleasure when he slides his hands low around my waist and squeezes me tightly to him. “How are you feeling?” There’s a low, rumbly purr in his voice that raises goose bumps on my arms.

“Good. All better.” The words come out breathy because Rook’s hands are wandering all over my back, and he’s looking down at me with a heated stare. “Um…my French toast is going to burn.”

Rook gives me a quick kiss and reluctantly lets me go. “You want some?” I ask, returning my attention to the stove.

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

He takes a seat on a stool at the island and watches me prepare my meal. The silence is comfortable. One of the things I love about Rook is how easy things are between us. When he’s not setting my insides on fire, that is. We’re both very content to simply enjoy each other’s company.

“So tonight’s my night off from the club. Want to hang out?” he asks once I’ve settled on a stool beside him with my breakfast.

I dump way too much syrup on my French toast, making Rook chuckle. “Sure. Do you mind going with me over to see Giselle? I’m kind of anxious to get some answers about myself. And then, I know it’s a long shot, but I was thinking I would go over to the FUA and see if they have mug shots or something that I could look through—see if I can find our guy.”

Rook laughs. “Well, it’s not romantic, but I wouldn’t mind getting some answers, either.”

I blush at the romantic comment and hurry to finish off my breakfast. Then we head back over to Milliken State Park. On the opposite end of the park from the plaza where the fey were murdered, there’s a small marina and a sixty-five foot tall lighthouse. Around the lighthouse is a large grassy area with a few scattered trees and walkways with benches to sit on. It’s actually one of my favorite places in Detroit. Although I’ve never learned how to swim, I’ve always found being near the water very peaceful. Now that I think about it, I can’t help wondering if that’s the siren in me.

It’s a dreary, overcast day, but with the fresh dusting of snow we got yesterday blanketing the park, the scene is picturesque. The lighthouse is shaped like a large white cone sitting on the edge of the water. A sidewalk surrounds it so that tourists can walk all the way around it, and there’s a railing on the far side that keeps people from falling into the river.

As Rook and I round the back of the lighthouse to the side that faces the water, we find Illren leaning casually against the side of the building—his all-black clothes are startling against the white lighthouse. I stumble to a stop, and Rook grunts his displeasure. “What are you doing here?” I ask, blinking in surprise.

Illren pushes away from the building and moves to stand right in front of me. He invades my personal space, but he makes no move to touch me. “Waiting for you,” he says.

I step back, putting a little distance between us. “Why?”

The question is totally rude, but Illren smirks as if I amuse him. “You intrigue me, and not many do.”

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