The station coffee was nasty enough to kill someone.

  “We’ll talk about them at home.” Moose chuckled. “That sounds nice, doesn’t it? Home. I like that.”

  Grayson was starting to wonder if Moose was playing with a full deck. Still, something warm moved inside him. Moose referring to his house as home felt strange, yet nice.

  “Then you need to get back to work.”

  “You wanna grab dinner in town later?”

  “I wanna catch a killer.”

  “We can still do that, but why do it on an empty stomach?” Moose asked.

  “Is eating all you think about?”

  “One other thing pops into my mind, but you keep shooting down my advances, sweetheart.”

  Grayson licked his lips and stared at his closed door. He was getting a boner and prayed no one needing anything, because if he had to get up, his problem would show.

  “Nothing to say to that?” Moose asked. “Come on, you’ve never talked dirty on the phone before?”

  “No, I haven’t,” he admitted.

  Grayson Copache, a retired, decorated marine and black ops guy who had faced terrifying enemies, had infiltrated war zones, had taken down drug lords and gunrunners, and was built like a linebacker, was fucking blushing.

  “You should try it,” Moose said with humor in his deep, sexy voice. “It’s pretty fun, and thrilling.”

  Just listening to him talk was thrilling. Grayson grinned. If he was being totally honest with himself, he couldn’t wait to see Moose again. “Fine, dinner sounds good, but you’re paying since you invited me.”

  “Hot damn,” Moose said with a chuckle. “Dinner with my boo. I’ll see you around six.”

  He hung up before Grayson had a chance to ask what the hell he was talking about. Grayson wasn’t anyone’s boo. They were friends sharing a meal together.

  That was all there was to that.

  Even so, Grayson smiled for the rest of the afternoon.

  Chapter Four

  “So, you’re saying that your neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Marvell, might be somehow involved?” Moose was seated in Mr. Thomas Pearl’s living room, on a floral couch that had…what were those called? Were those doilies on the arms of the sofa? The guy’s house reminded Moose of what a grandmother’s house should look like.

  There were creepy knickknacks everywhere, staring at him with those scary eyes. He felt as though he were being watched by two dozen porcelain serial killers.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.” Mr. Pearl pressed a hand to his slim chest. “I’m just letting it be known that those two throw swingers parties. So I’ve heard.” He gasped and sat forward in his ugly floral chair. “Maybe a husband or boyfriend got jealous. Some people might think they want to swing but can’t handle seeing their wife or girlfriend screwing another guy.”

  Mr. Pearl was totally gay, and from the conversation they’d had for the past twenty minutes, the guy wasn’t too fond of heterosexuals. He’d practically sneered the couple’s names.

  Mr. Pearl tapped his chin. “Or maybe it had something to do with Mr. Hawking. You saw the way Reggie was dressed in those tight clothes and wearing slippers. I mean, slippers? Who goes outside looking like that?”

  “So, you think because this Reggie guy wears house shoes outside that made someone want to kill, uh, someone else?”

  “No.” Mr. Pearl petted his pint-sized dog that was lying in his lap, giving Moose the stink eye. “Reggie lives on unemployment and has a very bad gambling problem. Did you see his house?” Mr. Pearl shivered. “His rusted car is parked in his driveway, and it doesn’t work. He never takes his trashcans in, and his lawn is nothing but patches of weeds.”

  “Scandalous.” Moose grinned.

  “And don’t get me started on Jeremy Longing. He’s a drunk who probably killed that guy and doesn’t even remember. You know, in one of his blackouts. His wife died about two years ago, and Jeremy has been living on her life insurance ever since. If you ask me, and I’m not saying this is true so don’t quote me, but I think he might’ve knocked her off for the insurance policy. Once a killer always a killer.”

  Okay, Moose wasn’t getting anywhere with this guy. Someone had taken a crap on Mr. Pearl’s front step, and Moose was starting to wonder if the whole town hadn’t done it.

  Mr. Pearl was a pretentious prick. “Thank you for your time.”

  “But you haven’t touched your tea!” The guy looked beside himself as he hugged his furry dog to his chest.

  And Moose wasn’t going to. He refused to drink out of a cup with Grandmother Pearl’s face on it. There were just some lines he refused to cross, and sipping from an old lady was one of them.

  Besides, Moose had others to interview before dinner. And he wasn’t missing dinner with his boo.

  Maybe Grandma Pearl had passed away and left her grandson the house. If so, Mr. Pearl needed to do a total makeover.

  “I’ll show myself out.” Moose got up and hauled ass to the door, praying the florals and doilies hadn’t gotten all over him. He wanted to go home and shower the old-lady patterns off him. He sniffed himself to make sure he didn’t smell like achy joint ointment.

  He ducked his head when he exited and closed the door behind him. Home. Funny how he was starting to think of Grayson’s home as his, and Moose liked that.

  Tonight he would tell Grayson they were mates. There was no use hiding it from him, and if his mate flipped, Moose would handle it.

  In fact, Moose needed a dose of Grayson. Being away from his mate was driving him insane.

  He hurried down the sidewalk and headed back to Main Street. He felt like a giant compared to everyone else who passed him on the street. One woman had to be only five feet because she looked so short that Moose had an urge to pat her on her head.

  He didn’t think she would like that, though. She was walking with three little boys and a baby girl in a stroller who looked to be about one. The woman looked older, and Moose assumed she was their grandmother, but these days women were having children later in life, so she could be their mom.

  He stepped into the cool interior of the station and nodded at the receptionist behind the desk. The woman smiled at him.

  “He’s in his office.”

  “Thanks, Sabrina.” Moose knew her name because of the nameplate on her desk. It actually said Sabrina Landon, but Moose didn’t think he needed to call her by her full name. He wasn’t sure what her nationality was. Her skin was a very light brown, and she had a head full of black and blue dreads. But she had the prettiest smile Moose had ever seen, and her brown eyes lit up when she smiled.

  “And who are you?” she asked. “I saw you earlier, but I didn’t catch your name.”

  “John Zitelli, but everyone calls me Moose.”

  “Okay, Moose,” Sabrina said. “Sheriff Copache is in his office.”

  With a nod, Moose found his own way. A right turn down a short hallway and he stood in front of his mate’s closed door.

  Instead of knocking, Moose let himself in. He smiled when he saw Grayson hard at work on his computer. Then again, Grayson might have been looking up porn sites.

  Moose wasn’t one to judge.

  Grayson looked up with his brows hiked. “You done already?”

  “Nah, I just needed this.” Moose closed the door, crossed the room, then pulled Grayson to his feet and locked lips, shoving his tongue down the guy’s throat.

  Grayson moaned and clutched at Moose with needy hands. Now that was the reaction Moose had been hoping for. Grayson was finally kissing him back.

  Unfortunately, they needed to breathe in order to live, so Moose had to pull back.

  “You just take what you want, don’t you?” Grayson sounded breathy as he stared into Moose’s eyes.

  “I might be a chicken when it comes to certain things, but…yeah, pretty much.” Moose had always been that way. Bold, daring, and, yep, he took what he wanted. Not in the creepy way, though. If Grayson had been adamant about Moose backing off, Moose would have.

  But his mate’s cheeks were a fiery-red, and his eyes appeared glazed, and fuck if that wasn’t a sexy look on him.

  “What could a guy like you be chicken about?” Grayson cleared his throat and pulled away from Moose, taking a few steps back and nearly falling over his office chair.

  Moose tapped his chest. “I might be a big guy, but I told you I’m all soft and gooey on the inside. Just because I’m huge doesn’t mean I don’t have fears.”

  Crap. He hadn’t meant to say fears. “I meant worries.” That still wasn’t the right word.

  He handed his notes over to his mate. “Mr. Pearl is a real character. I don’t think I’ve ever met a bigger gossip. His suspect list is everyone who was at the station.”

  Grayson took the paper and looked it over. “He had a lot to say.”

  Moose bounced his brows. “And what do you have to say about that kiss?”

  He was gonna get Grayson to talk about things between them, even if things had just started. Sue him if he wanted verbal confirmation that his mate was attracted to him. The way Grayson had constantly pushed Moose away had Moose suffering just a tad from self-doubt.

  Moose knew Grayson felt the pull. He just wanted his mate to admit it. Or was he being pushy again? Moose cleared his throat.

  “I’ll follow up with the other people. See you at dinner.” He took his notepad from Grayson and hurried from the office. Although he was pretty sure Grayson felt the connection between them and would sooner or later admit it, rejection still stung like a bitch.

  “Moose, wait.”

  Moose turned at the sound of his mate’s voice. “Yeah?”

  “Come back here.” Grayson disappeared into his office.

  Curious, Moose went back in there. Grayson shoved him aside, slammed the door closed, and pinned Moose to the wall. His lips were inches from Moose’s, so close that Moose felt the man’s warm breath skitter across his jaw.

  “This is what I say about the kiss.” Grayson devoured Moose’s mouth, nipping and licking and shoving his tongue down Moose’s throat.

  Moose took it for a moment and then became just as aggressive, locking his arms around Grayson and yanking him close. He felt his mate’s hard-on pressing against him as their kiss seemed to last a lifetime.

  This time when they pulled apart, Grayson teased Moose’s bottom lip between his teeth then let it go. “Does that answer your question?”

  Moose gripped Grayson’s hard cock. “And what’re you gonna do about this?”

  Grayson’s eyes widened before they rolled to the back of his head. A moan escaped as he shoved his dick harder into Moose’s palm. “Been so fucking long.”

  Moose nibbled his way up Grayson’s jaw. “How long?”

  “I…” Grayson tried to pull away, but Moose refused to let his mate run any longer.

  “Just tell me. No judgments.”

  Grayson looked him right in the eyes. “I’ve only been with one guy, and that was a one-night stand.”

  “For real?” Oh fuck. Moose was gonna show his baby a damn good time. He couldn’t wait to get Grayson in bed so he could let his mate experiment on him.

  “Yeah, so…it’s no big deal.” Grayson lowered his head, refusing to look at Moose any longer.

  “Aw, don’t be shy, pussy cat. I promise to be gentle with you.” He chuckled and kissed Grayson’s temple.

  Grayson slapped him on the chest. “Don’t go poking fun, asshole.”

  Moose grinned. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m just thinking about all the dirty shit we can do to each other.”

  Grayson’s eyes glassed over. “You’re serious?”

  Moose finally let Grayson go. “I’m off to do more interviews, have dinner with my boo afterward, and then tonight…” Moose pressed his lips against Grayson’s soft ear. “Then tonight all bets are off, handsome.”

  He left his mate standing there slack-jawed as he walked out of the office, a big shit-eating grin on his face.

  * * * *

  When no one answered the front door, Moose headed up the driveway. He heard a woman bitching as he neared.

  “That’s not a solution, dumbass. If we drain the pool, our grass will turn red. We can’t throw parties back here with red grass, James.”

  “I don’t hear you coming up with a better idea,” James argued. “We have to get the water out so we can scrub the walls of the pool.”

  “You think it’ll be clean by tonight?” she screeched. “This is a complete disaster, James! How are we gonna get everything cleaned by tonight?”

  “Hello,” Moose called out. He entered the backyard and smiled at the couple. Mrs. Marvell took a step back. James gave Moose a plastic smile.

  “I saw you entering the police station this morning with the new sheriff.”

  Moose dug out a business card from his wallet and handed it to the husband since the wife looked seconds away from passing out. “I work for Lacross Omega Security. Sheriff Copache asked me to talk to you guys about what happened.” He nodded at the pool.

  “We woke up the other morning and found it this way,” James said. “I think it’s food coloring, but I might also be Kool-Aid. I’m not really sure.”

  Moose covertly sniffed. It didn’t smell like Kool-Aid. He should know. He used to be addicted to the grape flavor. “Do you know who might have done this? Did anyone have a reason?”

  Mrs. Marvell’s features relaxed, but she didn’t come any closer. “Why would anyone have a reason to do something like this?”

  Now her voice was all innocent. She no longer sounded like a she-devil. It always amazed Moose how differently people acted when strangers, or even friends, were around. Even James appeared serene as he continued to give Moose a fake smile.

  “Have you pissed anyone off lately?” Moose pulled out his notepad. “I mean, you know, people are so sensitive these days that you might have inadvertently said something wrong to someone. Does any particular moment come to mind?”

  Mrs. Marvell moved to her husband’s side. He put his arm around her waist as if they were such a darling couple and hadn’t been at each other’s throats seconds ago.

  Society had two faces. One they showed the world, and one that was only shown in private.

  Like when chewing out their husband.

  Right now all Moose saw was their I’m-so-innocent-that-I-adopt-puppies-and-feed-the-homeless faces. He wasn’t falling for it. From the looks in their eyes, they were definitely hiding something. Whether it was a swinging lifestyle like Mr. Pearl had said or something else, Moose’s gut told him to dig deeper.

  “Well…” James cleared his throat. “Now that you mention it, Mr. Pearl left a note in our mailbox about not bringing our trashcans in right away.”

  “So you think your pool was vandalized because your trashcans sat at the curb too long?”

  “You saying that out loud makes it sound ridiculous.” Mrs. Marvell gave a soft chuckle. “I was the one who called on Jeremy Longing when I saw his car weaving down the road. Maybe he’s angry that he was arrested.”

  “But how would he know it was you who called?” Moose asked.

  A glint of anger entered her eyes, but Mrs. Marvell kept her cool. “I’m just trying to think of instances where I might have offended someone. Maybe Sheriff Archer told Jeremy who had called on him.”

  Unlikely. Then again, Moose didn’t know Chuck. He could have been an asshole and ratted her out. After all, Moose had found that forced retirement paper that had been balled up a few times. Chuck could have had a stick up his ass when he’d arrested Jeremy for drunk driving.

  “No, no.” James shook his head. “Do you remember, Patsy? Mr. Hawking?”

  Her brows shot up. “Right!” She turned to Moose. “The guy who got his house egged this morning. About a week ago, I called city hall to complain about the trash in his yard. Have you seen his yard?” Patsy tsked. “His entire house and yard is an eyesore. We, in the community, take great pride in how our residences look. Our property value has plummeted since Mr. Hawking moved in.”

  “He’s a gambler,” Mr. Marvell whispered, as if the neighbors would overhear. “And lazy. He collects unemployment.”

  “A lot of people collect that,” Moose pointed out. “That doesn’t make them lazy. Work isn’t easy to find these days.”

  Patsy sniffed. “If you try hard enough, you can get a job. I saw a hiring sign in the window of the gas station yesterday. Mr. Hawking is just lazy.”

  Moose gritted his teeth. She had no right to judge anyone, especially if she didn’t know the full story. What if Mr. Hawking’s unemployment paid more than a gas station job? Not that there was anything wrong with working there. Moose respected anyone who got out of bed and worked for a living. He didn’t care if Mr. Hawking collected roadkill for the county. What did that matter?

  Before joining the service, Moose had worked plenty of low-paying jobs. He was over two hundred years old, and sometimes a person took what they could get. There had been a time or two when he’d been destitute and worked odd, crappy jobs just to survive.

  He didn’t like this couple but kept his mouth shut, removing his personal feelings from the equation. Which, by the way, wasn’t completely possible, but he kept his opinions to himself. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Anytime,” James said, that plastic smile in place.

  Mr. Pearl and the couple didn’t smell like vampire. He knew that right away about the couple since they were out in broad daylight. Moose still wasn’t sure the vampire had anything to do with the vandalism or the murder, but he didn’t believe in coincidence, and hadn’t Raven told him at breakfast that he smelled a bloodsucker outside Mr. Hawking’s house?

  It seemed the more people he talked to the more frustrated he became. Moose was getting nowhere. The people were kooky as fuck, but no warning bells had gone off inside his head.

  Moose looked at his phone and decided he could talk to one more person before he had to meet Grayson for dinner.

  He thought about how his mate had tried to dominate him and how adorable that had been. Moose couldn’t wait to get home tonight and unwrap Grayson from his uniform.