Love Me to Death (Underveil, #1)(3)

She kept her eyes closed. She was right; with one on each side, they were playing verbal keep away—or at this pace, ping-pong. She didn’t want to play. She was dead.

“Miss Arcos?” It was Knowles. “How did you get covered in blood?”

“I’ve no idea. I thought he had shot me, but I guess I was wrong.” Her answer was feeble, and she knew it. Telling these guys about the sexy death angel would guarantee her a trip to the funny farm—at the very least a heavy-duty psych evaluation, which would delay her discharge from the hospital. She kept her eyes closed in some kind of denial of reality

The nurse’s voice came from across the room. “Detectives, the test results are back. It is human blood on the patient’s body and clothes, and it matches her blood type.”

Elena assumed Gonzalez was speaking because the voice came from his side of the playing field. “Miss Arcos. We need to get some answers from you. Please open your eyes and cooperate.”

How did you explain the unexplainable? She had been shot. Twice. She should be dead. Maybe if she cooperated, they would go away. These are the good guys, she reminded herself. She opened her eyes and looked at the detective named Knowles. She gasped.

Sitting on the counter behind him was her angel of death from the convenience store. He was wearing black jeans and a black leather vest with no shirt. Strange markings covered his arms, neck, and chest, like tattoos in an alien language or something. The gold hilt of his sword peeked from over his shoulder. Maybe he had failed the first time and was here to claim her.

From his casual perch on the counter, the death angel gave her a smile. The impact was devastating. Elena’s heart ripped into hyperdrive. It wasn’t a “hey, good to see you” kind of smile. It was a devious, “I know something you don’t know” smile. He was dangerous—and she knew it. Dangerous and irresistible. Her body came to life as if electrified. She shifted uncomfortably on the hard hospital bed and recrossed her legs.

The detectives seemed oblivious to the sword-wielding man’s presence mere feet from them. In fact, Detective Knowles set his notepad on the counter inches from the death angel’s thigh. He was invisible to them.

I’m crazy. There was no other explanation.

“Miss Arcos, why don’t we start with some basic information,” Detective Knowles suggested, clicking a ballpoint pen.

Elena answered questions about her age, address, contact numbers, and other personal information, while the detective scribbled on a form on a clipboard. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he flipped the page over.

“Like I want to go home.”

The man with the sword was no longer on the counter. She scanned the room and couldn’t find him. She chewed her bottom lip as Knowles inserted a disc in the laptop on the tray table in front of her. Out of nowhere, the death angel appeared at her shoulder, causing her to flinch and whack her knees on the table drawn across her bed. He leaned forward, studying her mouth, only inches from her face. She stopped chewing her lip and drew her mouth into a tight line. Oh God. What was that smell? It was him. He smelled as good as he looked, like leather and something else—some kind of cologne or soap.

She stared at the death angel’s scowling face. Gorgeous, angular, with a day’s growth of beard dusting his jaw line. “Who are you?” she whispered.

Detective Gonzalez patted her hand. “We’re investigators. We’re trying to figure out what happened to you in the store.”

She found herself unable to draw her eyes away from the dark stranger who had backed up and was now leaning against the wall. Why couldn’t they see him? He had a smirk on his face, which made her heart hammer. “I want to go home,” she whispered.

“After we watch the disc from the surveillance camera in the store, we’ll leave you alone. We’re hoping you’ll be able to clarify what’s happening as we watch it,” Detective Knowles said.

The man with the sword moved to the end of the bed. He appeared to be looking at her eyes. Not into them, like someone would if they were trying to communicate. No. He was looking at her eyes, as if he were studying a pinned bug specimen. Elena squirmed like that bug as she managed to pull her eyes away from the death angel.

Detective Knowles punched some keys on the laptop, and the disc began to play. There was no audio. On the screen, she watched herself enter the store. The camera had filmed from the corner where the mirror was mounted. She watched as she walked straight to the candy aisle. Detective Knowles paused the disc.

“It looks like you are familiar with the store. Why were you there?” Knowles asked.

“I was getting a Milky Way bar.”

Gonzalez smiled. “Do you do this often?”

It was obvious he thought she was lying. “Yes. I have hypoglycemia—low blood sugar—I need candy when it gets bad.”

It was Knowles’s turn to lob the ball across the court. “So, you’ve been to this store before?”

“Yes.”

“How many times?” Gonzalez seemed to enjoy the game more than Knowles. Grinning, he leaned against the bedrail, close enough for her to smell cigarette smoke clinging to his clothes.

“Um. Pretty much every day for the last three weeks.”

Knowles’s turn again. “Why for three weeks?”

She groaned. If only she knew. “My blood sugar has been out of whack since I started working at the hospital,” she explained, smoothing the top of the sheet into a neat, straight fold. “The store is the first place to buy chocolate on my way home.”