This was it. I had my way in and I was going to take it. It didn't matter that the only real way I could stop Mr. Aaron Gray's murderous blood lust was as a romantic interest; I was here, about to get a truly bad guy, and I was doing it on my own. It wasn't my first undercover assignment, but it was my first, and probably most important, solo career move.

I did resent that I was probably being used for my looks rather than my proven work-ethic and skill, but what did it matter? I would nail this guy, period. I'd met him the first time in a coffee shop, where I posed as a writer absorbed by my latest novel. I bumped into him on my way for a second coffee; he sat down, and between bites of a coffee-cake muffin, we 'bonded.'

He was an attractive man, but I could barely stand to be in his presence. But, I was a good actress. Always had been. So when he looked into my blue eyes with his own, a lighter shade so they looked almost grey, ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair and asked me to dinner, I stretched my lips into a coy smile and said yes.

He smiled like a kid on Christmas day; I wanted to deck him then and there. But that might have blown my cover. And I wanted him. Wanted to get him off the streets, where he'd been raping and murdering female acquaintances. It was a game to him; dine, romance, then torture, kill. But he left no physical evidence, and all we had was a suspect, which is where I came in. String him along until he attacks; that was my order. So, for however long it took him to make a move, I would be surrounded by hidden bodyguards 24/7.

The assignment was something out of a thriller movie.

So, when he asked for my phone number, I smiled like the cat who ate the canary. I had him; he was walking into a trap and I was ready to slam the door behind him. I wrote down my fake name and number, and camped out by the phone for three days, waiting for the call. When it came, my heart hammered in my chest so hard it felt like I was at a concert and felt the reverb of the bass inside of me.

I was witty, flirty. And he was welcoming. We arranged to meet for dinner, and then hung up.

I only had one problem while getting ready: where would I hide my gun?

***

So here I am, mic'd and dangerous, waiting for my 'date' to arrive at the place we agreed upon. What Gray doesn't know is that our young waiter is an officer, as are several others planted about the bustling restaurant.

My mind, though it should be occupied with the task at hand, isn't. Instead, my thoughts, and eyes, keep flitting toward a man a few tables away from me. He's very blonde, and very big; not in weight, but in height. I stare at his hands, which must be at least twice the size of my own.

His eyes are blue, a light shade, and his skin is pale.

He's beautiful.

I try not to stare, and am successful because Gray arrives just then. I welcome him with a kiss on the cheek, though inside bile builds in my stomach, hot and angry.

"You look beautiful," Gray says, his eyes moving over my body. I'm wearing a black dress, floor length, and my hair is loose and wavy.

"Thanks," I return the compliment by raking my eyes over his body; though I feel my temperature begin rise and my heart speeds up with anger.

"Did you find the place ok?" he asks as we sit and are handed the menus by John, my partner. I hold back a chuckle when I see him in his dapper waiter's uniform. He gives me a quick glare after checking to make sure Gray isn't watching.

"So," Gray begins, his eyes on my face, surprisingly. "What's this novel you're working on?"

"Well," I look down at my lap and tell him the truth. I'd been working on a book since I'd graduated college, but had never been brave enough to option it out.

"It's about a younger girl, about twenty-one, who's just come back from seeing the world after studying abroad for a year. When she gets home, she doesn't see it as that anymore because she's not who she used to be."

"Depressing," Gray says, his eyes serious.

"Life's like that," I mumble. But I paste a smile to my lips and look into his eyes. "I don't know, I've always been sort of a melancholy writer."

"Well, I guess it's more truthful. Life is hard. People steal, cheat and lie to save their own skin. It's a depressing world."

Yeah, I thought. You would know all about that, wouldn't you?

"You get me," Is what I actually said, and bit my lips shyly.

Gray licks his lips, a reflexive tic that tells me he's interested. Good. I'm getting to him. His attraction to this façade only excites me. I'm the hunter, he's the prey, and he's too intoxicated to know he's being backed into a corner, slowly.

I look back down at my menu, but my gaze is caught by that blonde man; he's staring at me, and when I meet his gaze, he raises an eyebrow. His expression wasn't flirtatious; it was more like the look you'd see a parent give a child who had their hand caught in the cookie jar.

His guest, a pale brunette man, doesn't notice his companion's distraction. I stare into the blonde man's eyes, hard, and tilt my head in what can only be called a 'yeah?' expression. I bring my attention back to my task at hand. We order wine, then dinner, and chat idly.

"Where did you go to college, Elaine?" Gray asks.

"Yale," I say. And it's true, for Elaine Vetter. She went to Yale, or at least, Yale records show she did. I actually went to Northwestern.

"Wow," he's impressed. "I went to The University of Indiana."

"It's a good school," I say, bringing my hand up to my cheek to brush back a stray lock of hair. I lick my lips subtly. "You're a ways from home, though."

"Yeah, came out here to make it big in business."

"And?"

"I found my true calling—a little pizza place I bought a couple years back." .

"You'll have to show it to me sometime," I nod at my partner, who has returned with the wine. "I love pizza." I take a sip of the red liquid and it slides down my throat, rich and heady.

"Sure," Gray says, without a hint of distress. He takes a sip of his wine.

The date goes well, easily, and I relax into the game like a cat playing with a mouse. I'm attentive, smiling and laughing at the dull first-date conversation. Our food comes and I take small bites, slide the fork between my lips and pull it free slowly, leisurely. Gray's gaze strays to my mouth.

I can't help but notice, though, that the blonde man's eyes are reserved for me, and me alone. If I'm the cat to Gray's mouse, this man is a wolf.

"Excuse me for a sec?" I ask, and Gray stands when I leave to use the restroom. I have to admit, the bastard has manners.

"I'll be waiting," he purrs. When I walk away, I feel eyes on my back, but I can't be sure of whose. When I reached the bathroom, my partner was there, waiting for me.

"He buying it?" He asks, smoothing back his short, black hair. His skinniness in the white dress shirt and black suit pants belie the muscular frame I'd grown to know from our time—and workouts—together.

"Eating it up," I laughed. "So to speak."

"Good. Waiting on the sonnovabitch is just about killing me, though."

"Aw," I lean in to pinch his cheek, Grandma style, "But you look so cute in your penguin suit."

"Yeah, yeah," he says. "Now get back out there and seal the deal." I flush; I was already touchy about the situation; that my partner had basically called me a prostitute didn't help matters.

He realizes the error and remorse flickeres across his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he says, holding his hands out in a gesture of peace.

"It's fine," I lie smoothly. "Now, I've got a date I need to get back to." Without a backward glance, I leave the bathroom.

"Hey," Gray says as I sit. "I ordered desert for us, I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." The table has been cleared, and the check sits on the corner by Gray. "What are we having?"

"That's for you to fine out," Gray's fingers reach for mine across the table; I allow his touch, a soft stroke across my palm, tracing the life line.

"Well," I'm distracted at his touch, have to fight to keep my facial expression pleased. "Can I at least help you with the check?"

"Maybe next time," he says as he bites the bottom of his lip.

John comes back with the dessert—strawberries and cream. Gray picks a piece of fruit up and drenches it in the thick homemade cream. He leans toward me, questioning with his eyes, and I let him feed me dessert. I let my lips close over the tip of his thumb before I slowly let go. I have to remind myself not to bite—or vomit.

"Would you be up for seeing a movie?"

"If you let me pick it," I reply, earning a chuckle.

"Let me just take care of this," Gray says, standing. "Mind if we take my car? I can drop you back off to get yours after."

"Sure," Inside, I'm giddy. He's closing in. He tells me to get my jacket and wait in the foyer of the restaurant. He'll pull up in front to collect me. What I don't notice is the blonde man leaving the restaurant….through the back door.

After ten minutes, I leave the building to check outside; Gray should have been here with his car by now. The front entrance of the restaurant is quiet, unnaturally so. My skin feels like it wants to crawl away from my body. Something's wrong. It's only when I stop, try to clear my head that I notice an odd sound….a faint, sucking noise coming from the alleyway behind me. I creep toward the noise, my hand near my thigh, ready to reach for my weapon.

Which proved useless, I think, looking back on the situation. Because that man, that gorgeous, blonde man, who, standing up, was a good deal over six feet tall, had Gray pressed against the brick building of the restaurant. His head is buried in Gray's neck, hence the sucking.

If I had had time to think anything before I reached for my gun and shot the blonde man, I'm sure it would have been What the fuck? As it was, I was too busy reacting instinctively, and put four bullets into Gray's attacker.

He looks up at me, his mouth smeared with blood, blue eyes wild and boring into my own, before opening his mouth and snarling at me. Snarling. But those drawn-back lips reveal something that takes my breath away: two elongated teeth. Tapered, deadly and somehow beautiful, this man, this being stares at me like I'm a glass of water and he'd just been through a marathon. But he makes no move.

"You never saw this," he says, his words silky-smooth. "You're going to go get your car and forget you were going to see a movie with him."

"What are you trying to pull?" I keep my gun pointed at him, wondering why he hasn't hit the floor yet. I shot him four times; he should be bleeding out.

"Interesting," He says, his teeth somehow normal again. His eyes gleam. "Very interesting."

"What's interesting, asshole, is what jail's going to be like for a guy as pretty as yourself," I spit, cracking into a smile. "You fucked an entire investigation up, killed the man we were about to get. You're screwed."

I'm confident, too confident, but it's a response to the impossibility I've just seen. I must have been hallucinating. That's all.

The man laughs, looks down at Gray's body. "I'm not going anywhere," he says. "And, in fact, you're coming with me."

"Like hell I—" I'm mid sentence when blackness douses my vision. I didn't see him attack me; I must have been struck from behind.