by Dannika Dark
Gus sat against the counter behind him. “He’s the one with all the ink on his face. I ain’t never had a problem with him. They say he done it?”
“That’s what they say. I’m not sure if I believe it. Tak isn’t the kind of man to do something like that.”
Gus sniffed. “You know, he came in one time and paid for someone else’s gas. That gal who lives up yonder with Freddy. They’s poor, and I guess he took to feeling kind of sorry for her when she only put a dollar in her tank. Came right in and gave me fifty dollars for her gas and a basket of food. I ain’t never told no one about it. People’d think there’s something going on between ’em, but that’s not how I saw it. When she came in to pay for that gas, her eyes got big like saucers. He didn’t speak to her before leaving, and she didn’t seem all too happy that it was Tak, but she sure as shitfire didn’t turn down free gas and food.”
Lakota sighed and shook his head. Damn Tak. Maybe if he hadn’t been so secretive about his generosity, people would be more apt to believe he couldn’t be capable of such a horrible thing.
His eyes skimmed around at the lottery tickets, lighters, and cigarettes. Tak might like a smoke, given his current predicament, though Lakota didn’t know a good brand. “How much for a pack of Pilgrims?”
Gus chortled. “Pilgrims?” He pointed at the wall of cigarettes. “Nobody carries them fancy brands.”
Lakota furrowed his brow. “Who sells them?”
“Them Pilgrims are new. No one ’round here comes in askin’ for ’em. They’s too high. Like sprinkled with some kind of magic.”
“Magic?”
“Humans don’t sell that brand. I heard you can buy ’em up north or on the internet, but you’s gotta have a lot of money. People ’round here ain’t gonna squander their money on a pack of smokes.”
“How much do they cost?”
Gus drew in a deep breath, and his gaze swung up to the ceiling. “I saw ’em going on a Breed site for about fifty a pack.”
Lakota’s eyebrows reached for his hairline. Could that be right? He’d only thought of them because they were the brand Crow was smoking back at the bar. “And no one around here sells them?”
Gus shook his head. “Most people in these parts don’t know what they are.”
“So no one has ever tried to buy them from you?”
Gus pinched his goatee. “Well, wasn’t too long ago that someone came in askin’, but I can’t recall who. I get so many people passing through day to day, it all just runs together. I been workin’ this gas station for sixty years now. Day and night, night and day. Trust me, it all runs together.”
It had to have been Crow asking for them. Lakota remembered how his cigarette had a distinct butt with a recessed filter and a symbol stamped on the paper. But fifty dollars a pack? Where does a man like Crow swing that kind of money?
“Can I use your bathroom?” he asked.
Gus pointed, and Lakota quickly made his way to the back hall.
When he closed the door, he turned the water on high. Vampires often tuned out amplified sounds for peace and quiet. They could mute a loud motor but still hear the driver’s heartbeat. Gus didn’t seem like the kind of guy who eavesdropped on people using the toilet, but Lakota turned down the volume on his phone just in case.
“I don’t know this number, so it better be good,” the person on the other end of the line growled.
“Reno, it’s Lakota.”
After a brief silence, he said, “Hold on for a minute.” Lakota guessed Reno was heading somewhere private. “What can I help you with, brother?”
He knew that Lakota was a bounty hunter. In small circles, that kind of thing got around, and Reno had a lot of connections.
“I’m working on a case,” Lakota began. “It’s a mess, and I need to smoke out the killer before the wrong man is convicted.”
“You got any leads?” he asked in his usual gravelly tone.
“I’m not sure. A man named Crow.”
“Crow,” Reno repeated. “Albert Crow?”
“I don’t know his first name.”
“Black hair, a Shifter, alcoholic, a mole on his thumb, wears these shitty-ass blue boots that no man in—”
“That’s him. What can you tell me?”
“Dangerous. You’ve got to watch out for guys like him. Not too smart, but he’ll do anything for money. He’s a crafty dirtbag who has the power of persuasion—a real influential guy.”
“How do you mean?”
“I ain’t gonna church it up for you. Crow is one motherfucker I’ve never been able to pin anything on. He’s slick and covers his tracks. He talks people into things—puts ideas in their head. He knows how to stir up gossip and divert attention away from himself. Where the hell are you? I wouldn’t mind coming in and getting a piece of that action.”
“I can’t say. What kind of crimes are we talking about?”
“You name it, brother. He’s done it.”
“Murder?”
“Affirmative. But watch yourself. He once managed to convince the higher authority that the bounty hunter chasing him was responsible. Guess where that bounty hunter is now? Crow watches people—he pays attention. He plants evidence and finds out what people’s biggest fears are.”
“But you said he’s not smart.”
“He’s smart in some ways and dumb in others. He’s never been the ringleader—just the guy hired to do a job. Crow doesn’t know how to hold on to money. He does all that work and winds up spending it all. Every time one of our guys has caught up with him, he’s spent all his pay. Wastes it on expensive shit like caviar, Breed drugs, and just about anything that can be consumed but not kept.”
“Not kept. You mean cars, televisions… stuff like that?”
“Exactly. He lives a disposable life. That also makes it harder to connect him to criminal activities if he doesn’t have something to show for it. Sometimes he gambles it away at the casinos. He’s got an addictive personality—sex, drugs, alcohol, food. Are you sure you don’t need backup?”
“No time. It’s a small town, and they don’t roll out the red carpet for newcomers. It took me three months to settle in.” Lakota glanced at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was still in tousled clumps from the bath he’d had with Melody.
“Did any of that help?” Reno asked.
“You bet. But if what you say about Crow is true, that means someone’s paying him to kill people. Unless he’s gone off the rails.” Lakota turned in a circle, his eyes fixed on the dirt between the yellow tiles. “Thanks, man.”
“If you need anything else, brother, I’m a call away.” Reno hung up.
Lakota used his foot to flush the toilet.
Without knowing how much Crow earned for his jobs, Lakota couldn’t tell exactly how rich a man had to be to pay him off. Who out here has that kind of money? The tribes, for one. Shikoba’s people made a lot from his business, but Lakota wasn’t sure where it all went. Most of the locals were destitute and working odd jobs. Some owned their own businesses, like the gas station, the bar, the restaurant, or the antique store up the road. Times were tough, so they would serve and sell to anyone, including humans. Usually in big cities, Shifters prided themselves on doing business exclusively with their own kind. But out here, it was a hard way of life.
Local packs had money. But what would they stand to gain by setting up the tribe? If Shikoba’s people were forced out, the land wouldn’t automatically go to the locals. The Council would auction it off. It would be prime real estate, and Shifters from all over would come down to bid on it. Maybe it was a wealthy outsider.
Lakota shut off the water and strolled through the store, his thoughts a million miles away. Reminded of Melody’s growling stomach, he grabbed a few bags of chips and spicy pistachios. If that didn’t tide her over, he would buy her dinner, although there weren’t many bars in the area he’d recommend eating at.
His stomach suddenly soured, and he shuddered as a cold chill swept ove
r him. It felt as if he were in a nightmare, and the only thing he could think of was Melody.
Melody. Melody.
When the knot in his stomach grew painfully tight, he dropped the snacks to the floor. Lakota tossed a wad of money at Gus and flew outside, his heart racing like a rocket when he scanned the parking lot and saw no sign of her.
Lakota jogged toward the truck and then checked the side of the building, wondering if she’d gone to stretch her legs. “Mel?” he shouted.
The pump was still sitting in the tank. Rage consumed him when he looked at the store and realized he had a clear view of the counter. How could I have let something like this happen?
In search of clues, he circled the vehicle and knelt by the passenger side. He found a Pilgrim cigarette that hadn’t been stepped on or driven over, and when he pinched the end of the paper, he could still feel the heat.
A wave of terror snaked through his gut, and he rushed back into the store. “Did you see what happened to the girl I was with?” he boomed.
Gus turned. “Nope.”
“She didn’t leave with anyone?” Lakota gripped the edge of the counter.
After a slow turn to look outside, Gus shrugged. “When you went into the bathroom, I heard someone drive up, playing that rap music, so I tuned it out. Put my invisible earplugs in. I don’t like that kind of music. That and heavy metal hurts my ears. Vampires can hear everything, you know. Crickets, birds, cars, people talking, the gas sloshing around in your tank. It’s enough to make you crazy. Crow circled in front and waved at me. He likes to taunt me sometimes, but I ignore it.”
“Was anyone else in the car?”
Gus swung his eyes upward. “No. Just him. He drove real slow, so I got a good look.”
“Does he ever come in with anyone?”
“He used to have a woman, but I ain’t seen her in a long time. He just comes by, plays that music of his, chitchats with people.”
“Who?”
Gus shrugged. “I seen him talkin’ to someone at the pump a few times. Usually it’s when my show is on, so I don’t pay ’em no mind. Do you ever watch Criminal Minds?”
Gus wasn’t bright enough to realize that Crow was using his distaste for rap music as a way to have private meetings with someone he probably wasn’t supposed to be seen talking to. Lakota gave him an impassive smile and ran out the door, his heart hammering against his chest. He quickly shifted to his wolf and sniffed the area by the car. He definitely smelled the cigarettes more, but his wolf didn’t know Crow’s scent. What disturbed him was the faint smell of blood in the air—no fear, just blood.
In a fluid movement of magic, Lakota shifted to human form and hustled to get his pants on. He threw the nozzle on the ground and hopped in the truck, careful not to hit a pump as he sped in a circle before taking off down the main road. When he reached the turnoff to the Council’s property, he screeched to a halt next to Kaota.
“Someone took Melody!”
Kaota glowered at him through the open windows. “What happened?”
“Crow. He took her. Tell the Council they’ve got the wrong man. Tell them we need backup. Did you see any cars go by?”
“Just one.”
“What kind?”
Kaota took a second to think about it. “Looked like an old clunker. One of those long models. I didn’t pay attention.”
“Who drives a car like that around here?”
He laughed. “Half the damn town? Most of the cars around here were built and repaired from scraps in the junkyard.”
“Crow. What does Crow drive? He’s got black hair—”
“I know who he is.” Kaota wiped his mouth and then hooked his arm outside the door. “An old green car. Big one. I never paid attention to the model. His is the last turnoff before you reach our territory.”
“Tell the Council I’m heading out to his place.” Lakota slammed his foot on the gas and weaved around an oncoming car that was trying to pass Kaota.
“Dammit!” When he got his hands on Crow, he was going to rip him apart, with or without evidence.
This time, it was personal.
Chapter 20
Dizzy. I’m so dizzy. I reached up, barely comprehending that I was in the trunk of a car. It was tight—no room to move. When I brought my hand around to the back of my head, warm liquid wet my fingertips. Oh God. What if my skull is fractured?
Without a second thought, I shifted to wolf form and then back. Quick shifts were a surefire way to piss off my animal, but better that than dying from a hematoma. I shifted once more and back again. This time, the pain was gone and the wound healed.
The car hit a hard bump, and my body slid around as the vehicle turned sharply.
“Think, think,” I whispered.
I felt around the floor for a makeshift weapon like a tire iron or a conveniently placed rifle. Instead, the only things I found were clothes and a spare tire behind me. I could probably bust out a taillight with my hand, but that wouldn’t do me any good. The human police likely didn’t come out this way except to go to a crime scene.
My head knocked against the trunk lid when we drove over a deep pothole. Since we were no longer on a paved road, we must have been nearing our destination. I scrambled into action, pulling the clothes over my body and hiding beneath. It was a risky move, but my wolf knew we were in danger. Whether she decided to run or attack was up to her, but I was going to pull off a move that Crow would least expect.
If that bastard thought I was just some frail girl who would beg for her life, then he’d never met a Cole. He’d struck me hard enough to knock me out, so maybe he didn’t expect me to be conscious.
When he opened the trunk and stared at the pile of clothes, a wolf was going to be waiting beneath. Crow obviously wasn’t a wolf—that much I could tell. A man gave away a lot about his animal in the way he moved and behaved around others. Crow was confident, observant, and crafty but definitely not a wolf.
“I miss you,” I whispered, thinking about my family. I was moments away from fighting for my life, and I had no idea how it would end. “I love you.”
That last one was for Lakota. Any attachment he might have felt would soon fade once he realized that sex wasn’t love. But I loved him. What I felt for him was bone-deep, and it had all started the night he found me in a snowstorm.
I often dreamed about that night, and in my dream, Lakota was always there in the end. No matter how frightened or alone I was, no matter how hopeless it seemed, Lakota always managed to find me. But not this time. There were no tracks to follow, and I was alone.
When the car squealed to a stop, I readied myself to shift. The car door slammed, and my throat dried up. Crow’s footsteps were heavy and slow, like he was taking his time while he jingled the keys around his finger.
He was whistling the theme song to a TV show I couldn’t place, and for some reason, his carefree approach made me even more nervous. As soon as the key slid into the lock, I shifted. My wolf crouched low against the floorboard, a narrow gap between garments allowing her to see. I conveyed to her what was happening and that our lives were in danger. The link between us was more of a series of images and emotions that helped us communicate right after a shift. My wolf had total control, and I was more of a passenger along for the ride, but I could see, smell, hear, and feel everything through her body. The trunk lid lifted, and the first thing that came into view was Crow with his arm raised and a tire iron in his hand.
“Come on, bitch,” he snarled.
In the time it took my wolf to stand, Crow had changed positions and was bracing for an attack. Oddly, he seemed to have been expecting it.
“Come on! Attack! I’ll show you why you should be afraid of me.”
And I did. With ferocity like I’d never known, my wolf lunged. Crow swung his arm and struck me on the back. I felt the pain rippling through me like a live wire. When I staggered to my feet and lumbered forward, Crow kicked me in the stomach and held the weapon high over his head.<
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“Aagh!” he shouted. “Run!”
Wait a second. He wants me to run.
I made my wolf step back and look around. Beyond the car was an old wooden house with a cheap light pole next to it. Why would he have driven me all this way just to let me go? Part of me actually wondered if it was some sick joke by a bored man with nothing better to do on a Friday night.
Crow advanced, and my wolf scampered back. I didn’t have much time. My awareness was dimming fast, and if I waited a minute longer, I wouldn’t be able to shift back. It took every ounce of effort to remain conscious. When I made a break for the road, he corralled me back and steered me toward the woods behind the house.
To hell with it. I sprinted into the woods, and as soon as the shadows swallowed me, I skidded to a stop. Crow was up to something, and the farther I ran, the less chance I would have of finding out what. My wolf burrowed beneath a dense bush and remained motionless, but I could sense her dominating presence taking control.
Crow tossed his weapon aside and then reached through the driver’s-side window. He pulled out a bag and set it on the hood of the car.
“Ready or not, here I come!” he shouted.
I watched in awe as Crow shifted into a great horned owl, his wingspan enormous. He landed on top of the car and wrapped his talons around the bag before flying off in the direction he thought my wolf had run.
Knowing that owls have incredible hearing, I stayed silent until I no longer heard the rustle of wings. On the brink of blacking out, I shifted back to human form and ran to the car.
“Dammit!” I hissed. The keys weren’t in the trunk lock.
After frantically searching the ground, I decided he must have put them back in the car. When I peered inside, it dawned on me that it hadn’t been a spontaneous kidnapping. No decision he’d made had been in haste. He’d placed the keys in the bag along with whatever else—probably weapons.
I jogged around to the trunk and snatched up my pants. There was no telling how much control he had in animal form, but if by chance he had none, then his owl was busy searching the woods for a wolf on the run, not a human. My worst fear was that Crow didn’t black out during his shifts. If he circled back and saw me running toward the road, I’d have no choice but to shift. He would bait my wolf, and she would instinctively fight him, facing off against a man who, based on the previous murders, likely had a knife.
