Enemies of Desire

By AC Wilds

A girl murdered ...

Sarabeth Lewis, detective for the NYPD's homicide division is assigned a case, but it comes with a high price -- working with Lewis Ortega.

Ortega, a cop from the NYPD's vic squad isn't used to working with a partner especially the one person he hates the most in this world.

Can two enemies work together to solve the case of a dead woman to save the supernatural community or will their past stand in the way?

Fans of Kelley Armstrong and Ilona Andrews will love A.C. Wilds' Enemies of Desire.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: AC Wilds
• Release date: Mar 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005158156

Book preview

1

Lewis

My eyes crack open. Sunlight pours in through the open blinds, making me wince. As groggy as I am, it takes me a few minutes to realize that my phone is shrieking. I grab it from the nightstand and press the answer button.

Detective Lewis, I say to the caller. A cheery voice sounds through the phone, and I know it could only be one person.

Morning, girl! You caught a case, so wake your ass up and get down there. I heard they might want Vice to come in, Penelope taunts. She knows exactly how to get me out of bed. As the department dispatcher, she handles all cases that come through Homicide.

Where is it? I ask, getting out of the bed, all sleepiness forgotten. I run into the bathroom and quickly grab the toothbrush. No fucking way am I going to allow Vice to get there first. Fucking Ortega. He is the bane of my existence. The nail in my shoe. The most frustrating human being on the planet, and also the hottest, but I stomp that thought down real quick.

Corner of 86th Street and 20th Avenue. In an alley next to the Chinese food restaurant. Pretty bad from what I hear, too, she says. I can hear her sipping coffee, and a pang of hunger floats through my body.

Okay, my ETA is about twenty minutes. See if you can stall the call to Vice? I don't want him there before me, I say, knowing she’ll understand. As women we have to work harder to prove ourselves, and Peneople is the one person who gets this the most. She’s worked her ass off to get where she is.

Already did, chica, she quips, hanging up the phone.

Penelope and I are friends. Not as close as she would want, but it's not something I can do -- make friends with humans. The coven is pissed enough that I took a job among them; they won't accept me hanging out with one. It wouldn’t be safe.

I finish getting dressed, dump cat food into Cop's bowl, and lock up. My police-issued Crown Victoria is parked in my space down at the end of my apartment building. I don't live in a ritzy area; it is mostly blue collar and isn't anywhere near the coven, which is a bonus.

Arriving at the crime scene, there are officers on duty and a perimeter has been set up. I duck under the police tape and make my way over to the body. My partner, Detective Ryan, is already there; freshly showered and probably been up for three hours even though it's only 7:00 am.

Nice of you to join us, he says, looking me over. Whatever, I know I look like shit. I'm a cop, not a supermodel. I mean, I’m decent enough looking. At around 5’10", I’m pretty tall for a woman. My long blond hair and crystal blue eyes are as British as my father, and while I’m on the thin side, my hips and ass are curvy and full, generous like my Italian mother.

Fuck off, Ryan. I just woke up, I ground out ignoring his laughter and walking over to the body. It's a female, petite. Her brown hair is matted and tangled, clinging to her face with dried, caked blood. She is naked from the waist down, and her shirt is pushed up towards her throat, exposing her breasts. Without knowing for sure, I'd guess she was raped. There is bruising on her torso and arms. Her eyes are wide and cloudy. Lips are blue and the parlor of her skin ashen.

Looking behind me, I take notice of whose attention is on me. Everyone has turned around having a quiet discussion, so I place my hands over the body, not touching but hovering. I mumble an incantation to see if there was a supernatural involved.

I can feel my signature and something else. Something of pure evil, and not