Page 2 of Patrick’s Seduction

“Give me the details,” Patrick demanded, already heading for the door, leaving the office.

Together they marched down the corridor.

“We got a call that the body of a jogger was found in the Presidio, near the Lyon Street steps. There was a lot of blood,” Nicholas reported. “Anita checked it out right away and restricted access by SFPD.”

“She suspects that a vampire did this?” Patrick asked.

Anita Diaz-Montgomery wasn’t only married to his fellow vampire hybrid, Cooper Montgomery, she was also the liaison officer in charge of assigning investigations of any crimes to Scanguards in which vampires or other supernatural creatures were suspected to be involved. She reported directly to the Chief of Police as well as to Samson—and in Samson’s absence to whoever was in charge at Scanguards. She was a very capable police detective and had been instrumental in taking down a vampire serial killer a few years earlier.

“I only spoke to her briefly, but yes, that’s her gut feeling,” Nicholas confirmed. “Buffy should already be at the Presidio securing the body so she can do a preliminary examination.”

“Who else is on scene?”

“Anita is still there. And Benjamin was in the area, so I sent him to assist Buffy and wait for us.”

Patrick nodded, pleased that all preliminary measures had already been set in motion. “Good.”

Over the last few years, Nicholas had turned into a dedicated and competent investigator and bodyguard ready to conquer the world, if given only half a chance. He still had something to prove, not necessarily to himself but to his strict father, Zane, a pure-blooded vampire. He’d inherited a fierce sense of justice from Zane, who’d survived the Holocaust. Zane had hunted down his Nazi tormentors for over six decades until he’d meted out the appropriate sentence for their crimes: death. Even today, he still had a penchant for violence, though he only directed it toward the bad guys.

“Do we know the identity of the victim?”

Nicholas opened the door to the underground garage and looked over his shoulder. “No. We only know it’s a male jogger.”

Patrick followed him into the garage, where they headed to a black SUV with tinted windows. Nicholas jumped in on the driver’s side, and Patrick took the passenger seat. Moments later, they shot out of the parking garage and merged into heavy mid-morning traffic in the colorful Mission district with its trendy restaurants and bars.

While Nicholas concentrated on driving, Patrick let his mind wander. He knew that his father was ready to give him more responsibilities, but did he really want that? Running Scanguards meant less time in the field and more in the office. While he was okay with overseeing certain things at Scanguards, he excelled at fieldwork: protecting humans, investigating crimes perpetrated by members of his own species, and saving the innocent. He couldn’t imagine spending all night at headquarters getting reports that required action, only to delegate those cases to others, when all he wanted was to get his hands dirty and take action himself.

In a way, he wasn’t so different from his father. On more and more occasions, he could see in his father’s eyes that he too wanted to carry out missions. But after Samson had been kidnapped and nearly died five years earlier, he’d learned to suppress the urge to join the most dangerous missions for Delilah’s sake. The fear of almost losing her husband sat deep in her bones, visible to anyone who cared to look. His parents had grown even closer now if that was at all possible. Their love had grown in the presence of danger.

He sighed. Would he ever find a woman he could love the way Samson loved Delilah? And one who loved him like that in return?

“Something wrong?” Nicholas asked with a sideways glance.

Patrick shrugged, deflecting from his thoughts. “Do you think people will ever stop killing each other?”

“Doubt it. It’s in everybody’s nature. We’re all capable of it. We just need the right catalyst.”

Surprised at Nicholas’s wise words, he nodded to himself. “Well, then let’s see what the catalyst was this time.”

Nicholas pulled to the side of the road and parked at the Eastern edge of the Presidio, where the Lyon Street steps led down to the Marina, and an iron gate that stood open led into the Presidio where the wooded area was interspersed with walking trails, bike paths, and narrow streets.

The fog still hung low in the park, an unusual occurrence for January. Normally, during the winter months, the days were clear without fog, and only the occasional rain clouds blocked out the sun. But today, even the sun hadn’t peeked through the thick fog yet. As if she didn’t want to shine a light onto the unfortunate man who’d met his end while jogging.

Upon getting out of the car, Nicholas opened the trunk and took out a large black bag. Patrick was aware of its contents: a forensic kit with which to collect evidence at a crime scene.

They had to walk only four or five hundred yards before reaching the crime scene, an area with several tall trees and a few bushes along the walking trail. By the looks of the broken branches and trampled plants, it appeared that the victim had tried to get away from his attacker. But the chase had been a short one, indicating that the victim’s speed had been no match for the perpetrator’s.

The smell of blood became more intense with every step that brought them closer to the dead body. Benjamin nodded at him and Nicholas as they approached, his gaze sweeping the area for any unsuspecting civilians, so he could keep them away from the gruesome scene. Benjamin was one of the twin sons of Amaury, the pure-blooded vampire who was Samson’s best friend. Benjamin’s twin, Damian, had found his mate a few years earlier, leaving their joint apartment to move into a house in the Marina with Naomi. Benjamin always claimed that he wasn’t ready for matrimony. However, Patrick couldn’t help but wonder whether Benjamin secretly envied his twin for having found his soulmate, while he still lived the life of a womanizer who had suddenly lost his wingman.

Patrick’s gaze was drawn to Buffy, the 26-year-old black human stepdaughter of John Grant, a pure-blooded vampire in Scanguards’ employ. She crouched down next to the dead jogger, examining what was left of him. He admired Buffy for how calm she was at handling this important task, collecting forensic evidence off the body and its immediate surroundings. She’d assisted Maya, Scanguards’ own physician, many times, administering not just emergency medical care but also performing autopsies. This would be the first autopsy she handled on her own during Maya’s absence.

Next to Buffy stood Anita. The tall blonde was beautiful and acted as their liaison with the SFPD.

Patrick stepped closer. “Hey, Buffy. Hey, Anita.”

“Patrick.” Buffy looked over her shoulder, her face serious. She let out a breath.

To one side of her rested a gurney with a body bag on it, waiting to transport the corpse to HQ once it was ready to be moved.