Page 3 of John’s Yearning

The phone on his desk rang again. He was glad for it, because it meant he could avert his eyes before she realized that he couldn’t stop staring at her. Most likely drooling like a hapless idiot. “Excuse me.” He looked at the display and recognized the number of the San Francisco Police Department. “This might be him.” He reached for the phone and picked it up. “Mike?”

“Hey, John. Just thought I’d give you a quick call about your new case.”

“That’s still to be decided,” John said, knowing Donnelly would understand what he meant.

“Yeah, sure. Anyway, there’s been a development. The mother of the last girl that disappeared. She’s not happy with us.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She thinks the police are all incompetent. You know the type. So I figured I’d send her over to you so you can assure her that we’re doing everything in our power. Her name’s—”

“I know what her name is,” he interrupted.

There was a tiny pause. “She’s in your office, isn’t she?”

“Thanks for the heads up.” He made sure Donnelly heard the sarcasm in his voice.

“As I said, she’s not happy with us. Squeaky wheel, if you know what I mean. I can’t get any work done with her showing up every five minutes, demanding an update.”

Great! So she was one of those types: bossy, demanding, insistent. “Well, thanks for the referral. I’ll be sure to reciprocate when I can.”

Donnelly had the audacity to chuckle. “No need. Just keep me posted, and honestly, I hope you find this thing has a paranormal stink to it, because I’ve got nothing. No ransom notes in any of the cases. No eye witness accounts of the abductions. Nothing. Not a whiff of a lead.”

“Keep you posted.”

He didn’t wait for Donnelly’s reply and put the phone back on the receiver. For what it was worth, this was his case, at least for tonight. And he would let nothing get in the way of his professionalism. He’d been a bodyguard for longer than he cared to remember, first for the vampire king of Louisiana, and the last four years for Scanguards. He was trained to show no emotion, and that’s exactly how he would handle this case. Though it wouldn’t be easy having to deal with this human woman whose blood permeated his office with a scent that made his fangs itch and his cock harden in spite of his better judgement.

He inhaled her aroma, filling his lungs with it, before steeling himself and turning to face her again. When he met her eyes, he instantly knew that she’d been scrutinizing him the entire time he’d been on the phone. And for some inexplicable reason that fact made it hard for him to show indifference.

“Ms. Rice, please take a seat.”

2

Savannah took the proffered seat. John Grant wasn’t what she’d expected, though she wasn’t really sure what she’d thought she’d find when Detective Donnelly had suggested she go to him to get help finding her daughter. For starters, she’d expected him to be older, much older. Hadn’t Donnelly said John Grant was highly experienced when it came to missing persons? How could he have gained that kind of experience when he was clearly still in his thirties?

And then there was his looks: for a private investigator he was too good looking, too tall, too athletic. Would somebody with model-like good looks like his really choose a career where he’d come into contact with criminals and violence on a daily basis, when he could easily find employment in modeling, acting, or fashion? His long dark mane alone could advertise any hair product and make it a bestseller.

“How may I help you, Ms. Rice?”

His question pulled her from her reverie. She pushed her thoughts about his appearance aside, remembering the glowing praise Donnelly had sung about him and Scanguards. To make sure they were legit, she’d looked into the company and found only complimentary reviews. It appeared that even the mayor enlisted their services from time to time, and what was good enough for the City of San Francisco, she hoped was good enough for her.

She swallowed and folded her hands in her lap, forcing herself to remain calm. It was hard, because every time she had to recount what had happened, tears inevitably came and choked off her ability to speak. It helped no one, least of all Buffy. For her sake, she had to pull herself together.

I won’t give up till I find you, baby, I promise.

“Ms. Rice?”

She snapped her gaze to his face.

“Detective Donnelly said your daughter disappeared three days ago. Can you tell me what happened?”

She nodded. His voice was laden with concern now, and it helped put her at ease. He was willing to listen. “Mr. Grant, thank you for seeing me—”

“Call me John, please. Tell me about your daughter. Buffy’s her name?”

She nodded. “She’s only ten.” And she was probably frightened to death wherever she was. “She disappeared after school.”

“Tell me everything. Start on the day she disappeared.”