Bound to Shadows Read Online Free PDF

know, sweet talk isn’t going to get you anywhere.”
“Ah, but you hunger, and that’s a start.”
“I’m a werewolf. Hunger comes with the territory. But believe me, we know the fine art of

self-control.”
Even if mine seemed to be hanging on by threads.
“It’s still fun to try.”
“And I think it’s fun to haul people back to the Directorate and interrogate their asses. But I’m

willing to give up my pleasure if you’ll give up yours.”
He laughed—a warm sound that trembled up my spine. “If there were more guardians like you, Ms.

Jenson, I believe there would not be as much disquiet in the community.”
He walked out without waiting for a comment, and I sighed in relief. At least I could now

concentrate on the business of finding our witness.

M y long night did indeed turn into an interminable morning.

Over the course of the next six hours, I consumed two glasses of Starke’s fine Bollinger then

moved on to coffee. Several cups later, I still felt like shit.
There might have been only thirty people plus Starke’s bar staff to interview, but they were all

reluctant to talk.
I leaned back in the chair and rolled my neck, trying to ease the cramp in my muscles, but it

didn’t help the tension any more than the coffee helped boost my energy.
I took another gulp of coffee anyway as a tall brunette sauntered into the room. Her clothes

looked expensive and there was a lot of gold around her neck and wrist, which set her apart from

the others I’d interviewed. But just like them, she plopped down with a decided lack of elegance,

shoved her long legs out in front of her, and crossed her arms.
“It’s taken you long enough,” she said, voice tart and not in the least bit slurred. She had to

be the only non-drinker in the place. “None of us had anything to do with that beheading, so this

is all just a waste of time.”
“I apologize for the delay,” I said, picking up my vid phone and setting it to record again.

“Once you answer a few questions, you’re free to go.”
She grunted, but it wasn’t a happy sound.
“For recording purposes, can you please tell me your name and address?”
“Is it legal for you to record without asking me first?”
“Yes.”
She sniffed. “My name is Mandy Jones, and I live at
14 Lytton Street
    , Elwood.”
Meaning I’d finally found our anonymous caller—and it had only taken me half the damn morning.

“How long have you been here at the club, Mandy?”
She shrugged and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a wrist littered with

bite marks. “I finished work and came straight here, so most of the night.”
“And you haven’t left at all?”
She shook her head. “I was about to leave when your lot locked us in.”
I picked up my coffee and took a drink. It was vanilla and cinnamon rather than hazelnut, but it

was still better than regular coffee. I wondered if Starke had raided his personal stash, because

I couldn’t imagine them serving it in the bar. It was too upmarket for this sort of

establishment.
Mandy didn’t seem to notice the drawn-out silence. She didn’t fidget, either, just continued to

glare at me.
Either she was a very good actress, or she actually had nothing to hide.
“Then how did you know there was a beheaded body out in the parking lot if you never left the

club?”
“Because he paid me to call.”
Meaning this case wasn’t as straightforward as it seemed. Why was I not surprised? “Who paid you

to call?”
She shrugged again. “He was tall, blond, and green eyed. The eyes were contacts,

though.”
I raised my eyebrows. “How can you be so sure?”
She waved a dismissive hand. “I’m an optometrist. I know these things.”
Maybe she did. But why would this guy—whether he was the killer or someone else—have paid someone

else to make the call? And if it had been the killer, why call at

all? That made no sense.
“He gave me five hundred dollars to make that