Succubus Lost (Files from the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency, #2) by Tiffany Allee

the blueprints walked to meet us, after giving the large papers to one of the suits.
    He nodded to Costa and then me. His eyes only passed over me for a moment, a quick flick of his gaze, but I felt suddenly like I’d been weighed, measured, and cataloged.
    “I’m Luc Chevalier. Thank you for agreeing to meet here, detectives,” he said, as if we’d had a choice in the matter. “How can I help the OWEA today?” A slightly better than average-looking man, he stood around five foot nine and had wavy brown hair and brown eyes. He was attractive, but not striking and I didn’t feel the aura of fear coming from him that I usually sensed from vampires. We could have been standing outside with a regular construction foreman for all I could tell.
    It was unsettling.
    “Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice, Magister,” Costa said. “I am Agent Costa. This is Detective Whitman from the Chicago PD’s paranormal unit.”
    “Nice to meet you both.”
    A strong breeze whipped my hair around my face, and a whiff of Costa’s aftershave touched my nose. I fought not to step closer to him. A man should not be allowed to smell so good.
    “We’re here to talk to you about one of your companies.” Costa flipped open a small notebook and glanced at the first page. “NMR Real Estate, to be precise.”
    “I am not normally involved in the day-to-day operations of my companies, you understand. I am more of a high-level manager, but I will of course help you if I can.” Chevalier’s French accent coated his words, making the English sound more musical.
    “Do you recall an incident in St. Louis, nearly a year ago now, where a kidnapped woman was held in one of your company’s warehouses?”
    Luc glanced at me. “Yes, the succubus. I remember.
    I never spoke with the police about it. My son, Nicolas, oversees my holdings in St. Louis. He handled the situation.”
    I frowned. I’d never met Nicolas Chevalier but Mac said something was off about him, and that he was quick to anger.
    “Is Nicolas available?” I asked. “It would be helpful to speak with him, too.”
    “I’m afraid not. He left last night for Europe. He won’t be returning for a few weeks.” Luc offered me an apologetic smile.
    “It would really help us out—” I began.
    “I’m sorry, but it’s impossible. He’s there for important business negotiations and will not return until everything is settled. You’ll have to discuss this with me.” Pressure built in my chest and I wanted to shriek and rage so badly—tell him exactly how important I found his business negotiations compared to my sister’s life—that I had to close my eyes for a moment to get a grip. I filled my lungs with a deep breath of air and tried to push the thoughts riding on the tip of my tongue to the back of my throat.
    “Well, then you are aware that someone at your company rented out a warehouse—with no paper trail—
    to an individual who used the building to keep at least one woman prisoner. An individual who then tried to ship her out of the country?” Costa asked, giving me time to compose myself.
    I opened my eyes to see that Luc’s attention had shifted from me to Costa, and some of my embarrassment faded, lifting a small weight from my chest.
    “Yes. We had a manager trying to make some money on the side. He’s been eliminated—from his position—for his actions.”
    I opened my mouth to ask for more details, but Costa shot me a warning glance.
    “We believe that something similar may be happening in Chicago as we speak,” Costa said. “We can’t say for sure that this person is using one of your buildings again, but it is possible, considering how much property you own through companies in the area,” Costa said.
    “I find that unlikely, but you can trust that I will review my records and let you know if I see any rentals that are out of the ordinary,” Luc said.
    “It would be better if we could go over those records ourselves.” Costa