Luke on the Loose

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I am totally fine.” As if to prove it, I tried to walk a straight line ... and ended up staggering to the right. That was not the message I wanted to send. “Really. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “I’m your friend,” she said, making eye contact with Nellie as she gave me a small shove. “Friends worry about other friends.”

  “Uh-huh.” I craned my neck so I could watch Nellie move in the direction of the trees. “What are you doing? Where are you sending Nellie?”

  “What makes you think I’m sending him anywhere?”

  “Because you did that weird eye thing.” I tried to mimic her movements, but had a tough time of it. “Seriously, I’m not an idiot.”

  “Of course you’re not an idiot.” She said it in her most soothing tone, but I heard the condescension weaving throughout her words. “No one would ever think that.”

  “Oh, you’re bugging me.” I jerked my arm from her and tackled the steps leading to my front door on my own. “We got Billy drunk and he told us some important stuff.”

  “Oh, yeah? What kind of stuff?”

  “Girls have been going missing for months. Young girls. Dark-haired girls ... and blonde girls ... and redheads, too. They’ve all been disappearing and people are starting to freak out.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Poet mused as she helped me unlock my door and ushered me inside. “What about the cops? Are they investigating?”

  “Billy said yes.” I dropped my keys on the small table next to my recliner and kicked off my shoes. “He says the cops are idiots and they’ve been looking at the people who frequent his bar. That’s why he was so suspicious when we showed up. He assumed we were undercover.”

  “I think we would be the worst undercover cops ever if that were the case.” Poet shoved me into my bedroom and watched as I struggled to maintain my footing ... and failed. I landed hard on the bed and almost bounced off the corner before catching myself. “You shouldn’t have gotten so drunk, Luke.” Her eyes were accusatory. “Something bad could’ve happened.”

  “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine.” I stared at the ceiling for a moment and frowned when it started moving. Or, to be more precise, when the bed started spinning. “I think I might be sick.”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  I ignored her tone and lurched to my feet, using my hip to bump her out of the way as I ran to the bathroom. “I’m definitely going to be sick.”

  “Oh, Luke.”

  I read the disappointment in her voice, but there was nothing I could do about it. I had more pressing issues.

  I wasn’t sure how long I was in the bathroom throwing up. It felt like an eternity. I was convinced Poet had given up and gone to her trailer during the time I was secluded in the tiny room. I realized I was wrong when I returned to the bedroom and found she’d turned down the covers and was busy checking the window.

  “You’re still here?” I felt as if I’d been spun through the washing machine a few times as I fell on the bed. “I think you might be right about the hangover tomorrow. It’s going to suck.”

  “It’s definitely going to suck,” Poet agreed as she helped me into bed and tugged the covers up. “I texted Nixie for the remedy. She’ll hopefully have something for you to take at breakfast. You need to get some sleep.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I accepted the Advil she pressed into my hand and sighed as she cracked open a bottle of water. “The people in this town are aware something bad is happening. They don’t have a clue what it is.”

  “What about the other shifters? I sensed some in the bar when we were there the first time.”

  “There are definitely shifters on the premises, but I don’t think they’re wolves. No self-respecting wolf would end up in Akron.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Amusement flitted through her eyes as she brushed my hair from my face. “What kinds of shifters are we talking about?”

  “Probably ferrets.”

  “There are shifter ferrets?”

  “Yes. They’re the laughingstock of our kind. They’re even worse than the shifter koalas and pandas ... but those are regional shifters, so we only see them when we’re on vacation.”

  “I guess I didn’t realize the variety of shifters out there.” She knelt next to me and tugged the covers so they were tight. “I cast a spell to offer you double protection tonight. I would like to use you as bait, but I can’t risk it when you’re in this condition. You can sleep as hard as you want. Nothing will get in here. I promise.”

  “Okay.” I was too tired to worry about that. “I saw the hot guy again. He came in once we were already drunk. I thought he might come over and talk to me, ask me out or something. He kept staring.”

  “No such luck?”

  “No.”

  “Well, you might’ve lucked out. He could be the incubus.”

  “I guess. But I don’t think so.” My eyelids were too heavy to keep open. “Do you know what I wish?”

  “No. What?”

  “I wish I had someone who moped about me like Kade mopes about you. I know I say I don’t, but there are times ... .” I left it hanging.

  “I know.” Poet sounded sad. “It’ll be okay. I won’t let anything happen to you, Luke.”

  “Of course you won’t. You’re Poet.”

  She might’ve sighed or said something else. I was already asleep by the time the last word escaped.

  I tried not to think about the next morning. The hangover would be profound. Still, it felt worth it. We learned a lot and had a good time. How bad could it possibly be?

  I FOUND OUT NINE HOURS later. The drums banging in my head — and the dead frog rotting in my throat — enjoyed explaining why that was the dumbest question ever as I downed more Advil and three bottles of water. The shower I took made me feel almost human, but the nausea roiling my stomach wouldn’t allow me to forget the horrible mistake I’d made.

  The feeling only quadrupled in potency when I exited my trailer and headed toward the cooking area. There, under the awning, sat Poet. She was at a picnic table ... and she wasn’t alone. She had a guest with her. He had green eyes, ridiculous cheekbones, and he was dressed in regular jeans and a T-shirt instead of his biker ensemble from the night before.

  I was unbelievably confused. “What the ... ?”

  “This is Detective Cole Ryan,” Poet explained as she gave me the side eye. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “You’re a detective?” I directed the question toward the man drinking coffee with my best friend.

  “I am,” he confirmed with a single nod.

  “Well, how great for you.” I moved toward the grill and frowned when I realized it was empty. “Where’s breakfast?”

  “Breakfast was served two hours ago,” Poet replied. “It was fabulous, if I do say so myself. You and Kade slept through it thanks to your late night.”

  “Oh, well, awesome.” Her voice reminded me of the high-pitched wail of a spoiled child. “I guess I’m going without, huh?”

  She stared at me for a long beat. “Actually, I kept two plates warm in my trailer oven for you and your drinking buddy. I can get one if you like. I wasn’t sure you’d be feeling up to food.”

  That sounded like a challenge. “I feel absolutely fine.”

  “Right.” Poet’s eye roll was pronounced as she stood. “I’ll be right back, Detective Ryan. I’m sure you have things you want to discuss with Luke.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do,” he confirmed, his eyes speculative as they turned to me. “I don’t know if you remember, but I was at the bar last night.”

  “I remember.” That was true. I remembered seeing him. I had no idea if I’d said anything inappropriate, but I definitely remembered him. “You showed up late.”

  “I was following a lead.” Cole’s expression was grave. “I’m not going to lie. I was surprised when I discovered you and your friend had returned to the bar. Did you really think that was a good idea?”

/>   Part of me wanted to smack him around. “Why does it matter to you? We weren’t doing anything.”

  “No, but ... that crowd isn’t exactly known for being warm and welcoming. You did a good job ingratiating yourself. Still, you can’t trust Billy.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I figured that out myself.” I waved off his warning. “I’m capable of taking care of myself. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  “You were in a bar where you were vastly outnumbered,” Cole argued. “If Billy ordered those men to go after you they would’ve done so without hesitation.”

  “He didn’t. I’m clearly fine.”

  “Yeah, well ... .” He trailed off when Poet exited her trailer, a covered plate in hand. “She’s very smart. She’s also sweet for taking care of you. I can tell she’s not happy about what went down last night, yet she’s done nothing but stand up for you and the other guy.”

  “The other guy happens to be recovering in the bed they share,” I pointed out. “She was probably standing up for him more than me.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  I pursed my lips as Poet returned with the food. She slid it in front of me at the same time she dropped a small pink vial on the table next to the food. “Drink that,” she ordered.

  I knew what it was and didn’t put up a fight. Cole, on the other hand, was intrigued.

  “What is that?” He leaned forward and stared as I twisted the cap and downed the potion in one gulp.

  “That is a hangover remedy from one of our workers,” Poet replied. “She’s an herbalist and into holistic medicine. She creates an amazing hangover cure.”

  “It is amazing,” I agreed, removing the foil from my breakfast plate and smiling at the heaping mound of hash browns, scrambled eggs, sausage and toast. “You went all out.”

  “Yes, well, I knew two boys who would be in need of sustenance.” She cast a look over her shoulder back to the trailer and frowned. “Kade is just getting up. He’s being a big baby.”

  “Oh, well, I’m sure your tender ministrations will fix him right up,” I teased. I was already feeling better, which allowed my mind to clear as I focused on Cole. “Why are you undercover with the biker group?”

  He nodded without hesitation. “We have girls going missing in this area. This is not my normal beat. I’m on loan from the Columbus department because Akron needed a face that wasn’t recognizable.”

  “I see.” And, because I did, that made my next question an uneasy one. “What do you think is happening to the missing girls?”

  I knew exactly what was happening to them. They were dead in the field on the other side of the fairgrounds. I was curious what he would say, though.

  “There are only two options.” He was grim. “They’re either dead and the club has figured out a way to hide the bodies or they’re being trafficked. I’m leaning toward that option.”

  Poet made a face as she slid onto the bench next to me. “You think the women are being sold into slavery?”

  “I think it’s as good of an explanation as any.”

  Poet didn’t look at me, but I could tell what she was thinking. The cops were way off. They weren’t even remotely close to catching the thing doing this. That was probably for the best. Still, it was disheartening.

  “Do you think the culprit is in the bike club?” I asked, hoping to direct the conversation to safer waters. “Is that why you’re with them?”

  “It is. I was surprised when you guys came in yesterday. I thought you were going to start throwing around accusations. Especially this one.” He jerked his thumb in Poet’s direction. “I was relieved when you seemed to take the temperature of the room and left. I was worried when you returned last night. I decided to out myself because I don’t want to see any members of your group go missing. The fact that you’re transitory would make you an enticing target.”

  Poet licked her lips and looked to me as I shoved food in my mouth. I figured it was best to let her respond. I’d opened my big mouth enough for one twelve-hour period … and I can rarely say that.

  “Thank you for the warning,” she said finally. “But you don’t have to worry about us. We’ve been taking care of ourselves for a very long time. We know exactly what we’re doing.”

  “Keep it that way.” Cole was firm. “If you go back to that bar I can’t protect you. You’ll be on your own.”

  “We’ll keep that in mind.” Poet’s smile was benign. “Thank you for the warning. We greatly appreciate it.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Eight

  Poet kept up an uneasy bout of conversation with Cole until I finished my breakfast. The man didn’t seem any more comfortable with the discussion than Poet, so he was eager to be on his way. He met my gaze several times while I shoveled food into my mouth, but he didn’t say anything that strayed from the case and bordered on the personal. What could he say? I sensed there was more going on, an attraction of sorts, but it was a losing battle for both of us because I would be gone in a few days and he was mired in an undercover assignment that had him far from home.

  “Well?” I waited to ask Poet’s opinion until Cole was in his car and driving away from the parking lot.

  “Well, the cops have no idea what they’re dealing with,” she replied as she rubbed the back of her neck. “I mean ... absolutely no idea. It’s distressing how little they know.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. Obviously they think the killer is at the bar, though. That means the women have to be disappearing from there. I don’t suppose there’s a way for us to confirm that.”

  “Cole confirmed it to me before you joined us,” she countered, grabbing the coffee carafe from the middle of the table and pouring two mugs. “He said that each girl who has gone missing visited the bar in the week before her death.”

  “Why? That doesn’t seem the type of place good girls go to.”

  She shot me a dark look, causing me to hold my hands up in capitulation.

  “You know what I mean,” I said hurriedly. “I wasn’t casting aspersions on them or saying they deserved it. I was simply making an observation.”

  “I get that. The thing is, it makes sense when you really think about it. An incubus would draw more attention if it went after what you term ‘good girls.’ That would create a panic. By seeking out women who frequent rough bars and who entertain themselves by going out multiple times a week — which was another thing all these girls had in common, according to Detective Ryan — the incubus is cleverly covering its tracks,” she continued. “People won’t panic as much because there’s always that judgmental crew who will say, ‘It wouldn’t have happened if she’d stayed home.’ That’s how it has gotten away with this for so long.”

  “That doesn’t mean it will get away with it forever,” I pointed out. “It’ll get caught if it stays here.”

  “Oh, it won’t stay here.” Poet sounded certain of herself. “There’s a reason these bodies are piling up so fast. This thing is an outsider. It appeared here nine months ago or so, ingratiated itself with the club, and immediately started killing. My guess is it’ll only be here another three months before it gets too hot and it has to leave. Then it’ll pick another town, probably another club where it’s easy to hide, and start killing all over again.”

  What she said made sense. “I would think incubi have to be migratory to survive. It’s not like it was a hundred years ago. It’s much easier to catch them now than it was before.”

  “Exactly.” She bobbed her dark head. “The technology age has made it more dangerous for paranormal creatures just as much as human murderers. This incubus has adapted while a lot of its brethren have been killed. There are a lot fewer incubi than there used to be.”

  “So ... what do we do?” I was somber as I finished off my breakfast. “How exactly do we catch this thing?”

  “I don’t know.” Poet’s eyes traveled to the door of her trailer as it opened. Kade, much paler than normal, slowly made his way down the steps. �
��Did you drink that potion I left for you?”

  He nodded. “It’s supposed to make me better, right?”

  “I already feel ten times better,” I called out. “It shouldn’t take long to work.”

  “Good.” He stopped next to Poet and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry for last night.” It was obvious he meant it. His face was lined with contrition. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I don’t know what got into me.”

  Poet’s expression reflected amusement. “Well, I think the hangover was punishment enough.” She rubbed his arm as he sat next to her. “Did you eat the breakfast I left you?”

  “Not yet. I need my stomach to settle before I can even attempt it.” He looked at me. “I guess Luke doesn’t have that problem.”

  “I’m already feeling better,” I announced, wiping the corners of my mouth. “I’m more interested in what we’re going to do to lure the incubus here. You must have a few ideas, Poet.”

  “I thought maybe he would follow you last night,” she admitted, rueful. “Nellie and Dolph patrolled the dreamcatcher boundary for hours. If the incubus was out there, it didn’t approach. We strengthened the spell to officially appeal to his kind, so I’m thinking it didn’t make an attempt.”

  “Will it come after us tonight?” Kade asked.

  She held her hands out and shrugged. “I think it’ll make another move before we leave town. Hunting from our ranks will buy it time with the cops.”

  “Especially because we didn’t report the first death,” I noted, my mind buzzing with possibilities. “Perhaps it can’t figure out our end game. I mean, it must be wondering why we didn’t report the death. Maybe it’s as leery of us as we are of it.”

  “Can incubi sense when other paranormal creatures are around?” Kade asked.

  That was a very good question. Unfortunately, I didn’t know the answer. “Can they?” I focused on Poet. “That would make sense, right? They’re demons.”

  “I don’t know if they can pick up on other paranormals,” Poet replied. “It would make sense, but I have no proof. I believe the incubus will return. I don’t know that we can wait for that to happen. We definitely need to take this thing out before we leave.”