by Nene Adams
Johnny walked out of the room, slouching as if his backbone were made of spaghetti.
Typical teenager, Annalee thought. Wait twenty years, kid, you’ll be wishing you’d paid better attention to your posture when you’re saving money for that orthopedic mattress. Now that the distraction was over, she tried to bring Ezra back to the business at hand. “I believe you were about to tell me about Lassiter’s mission,” she said.
“Was I?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Sheriff.”
Perhaps a little baiting might be in order. Shake the tree, see what falls out. “A man named Aiden Thompson, a lawyer out of Atlanta, told me Lassiter was a soldier of God fighting evil, corruption and sin. You know somethin’ about that?”
Ezra’s eyes sparked furious gold. “That is the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve ever heard!” he cried, his balled-up fist striking his knee. “Lassiter was a goddamn parasite who didn’t care who he hurt to get his way! And he was working with that crazy sumbitch Alex Dempsey—”
A woman’s quiet voice cut into his diatribe. “Ezra, that’s enough.”
He swung his head around, clearly startled by the interruption.
Annalee followed the line of his gaze and saw a tall, thin woman whose hair was quite a darker blonde than the other Skinners. The woman stood in the doorway, frowning.
Ezra stiffened, then the bulky lines of his body softened. “My wife, Rachael,” he said.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Annalee said, putting on her friendliest smile.
Rachael came into the room. She didn’t seem imposing, clad in a pair of dirty jeans that looked ready to fall apart and a ratty Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt, but her self-confidence and aura of command was dazzling. She ignored Annalee’s overture and focused on her husband. “Ezra, honey, you’ll excuse us, I’m sure. Me ’n’ the sheriff need to talk.”
He popped off the sofa in a surprisingly graceful move and shuffled out of the room without an argument, making it perfectly clear to Annalee who really ruled the Skinner clan. “I came to talk about Reverend Lassiter,” she said to Rachael.
Rachael nodded. Her manner was reserved, even cold, and her expression gave nothing away. “So I hear. I think you need to go now.”
Annalee considered protesting. She hadn’t yet questioned the three boys. A thought struck her. She still had the picture of Lassiter’s silver chain and recalled the medical examiner believed the pale hairs caught in the links were canine. She pulled out the photograph and showed it to Rachael. Perhaps despite Lassiter’s allergy, there existed a connection between him and the wolves of the Deep.
“Have you ever seen this necklace, Mrs. Skinner?” she asked.
Rachael’s reaction was instantaneous and shocking. She didn’t appear to move, but suddenly she was right there, hovering over Annalee, pressing her into the sofa cushions with the weight of her anger. “This isn’t a game,” Rachael snarled. “This is about survival, Sheriff. Our survival. And you and your questions need to get the hell away from my family.”
Annalee tried to force her heart to stop trying to batter its way out of her chest. She heard real menace in Rachael’s tone, in the way the woman gripped her upper arms, in the fierce golden burn of those narrowed eyes and the musky, bittersweet animal scent rising around in a dizzying cloud. Atavistic fear insisted she flee, but horrified fascination kept her where she sat, staring into the sharply honed gaze of a predator.
Rachael backed away, but not far enough. Her body tensed in a way even more suggestive of a carnivore ready to pounce on its prey. “Take your picture and your questions and go,” she said. “Don’t come back.”
“I can’t…” Annalee wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. Her mind was frozen, stuck in a rut carved by fear. The photograph was crumpled in her clutching fist. When had that happened? She tried to gather her scattered thoughts and compose herself.
Lunella was abruptly in the room, pushing Rachael aside and kneeling on the floor next to the sofa. “Are you okay?” she asked Annalee.
“I’m…I’m fine.” Annalee became aware she was sweating heavily, even more so than when she’d been running in the forest. Her eyes stung. She blinked.
Lunella turned her head to address Rachael over her shoulder. “Don’t do that again.”
“Don’t you tell me nothin’, girl,” Rachael sneered.
Snarling a word that sounded like “Mine!” Lunella shoved into Rachael’s space so quickly Annalee wasn’t able to register the movement from kneeling and standing.
She sucked in a startled breath.
Lunella was more physically imposing than her aunt, husky and muscular to the other woman’s more petite body structure, but Rachael seemed to grow larger, swelling with a cold fury, her hair bristling coarsely around her angular face. She and Lunella stared at each other for a long moment. Tension ratcheted higher until Annalee felt as if the room was filled with static electricity, invisible sparks snapping against her raw nerves.
The two women gazed intently at one another, each twitching slightly, communicating some silent message Annalee didn’t understand. A violent clash seemed imminent. She sensed the wrong word or movement at the wrong time would swing the potential her way.
Pressure built to a near agonizing height. Annalee’s skin crawled. Sunlight spilled white into her vision, creating a halo around Lunella and Rachael, blurring their outlines. Her chest spasmed painfully. She felt the banging of her pulse inside her head, a muttered boom-boom-boom that didn’t exactly hurt but didn’t feel good either.
Finally Rachael shattered the spell. “Are you challenging me, girl?” she asked.
Lunella seemed startled. She replied uncertainly, “No?”
Rachael’s hand shot out and cracked cross Lunella’s face with enough force to knock her off balance.
Annalee sprang to her feet in instant response. She watched Lunella and Rachael carefully, ready to intervene in a domestic dispute should it prove necessary. She hoped to God she wouldn’t have to get in the middle, but she’d be damned if she stood by and did nothing while abuse played out in front of her.
Lunella straightened and touched her cheek. A handprint was blazoned on the smooth skin, showing livid red against her otherwise shocked pallor. The color of her eyes seemed to fade from amber to sherry brown as her shoulders slumped. “Sorry,” she muttered, not looking directly at her aunt.
“You can take the sheriff back to her car,” Rachael said. She didn’t sound angry, smug or triumphant. Her matter-of-factness chilled Annalee’s blood.
How often does that little scene play out? Annalee wondered. An ache in her hand registered. She glanced down and realized she had a stranglehold on the butt of her gun. Blind instinct put it there, she thought, the impulse to protect Lunella from a threat. Her attraction to Lunella was no excuse. Pulling a firearm in such a situation would have been like chucking gasoline on a fire, reckless and very stupid. She eased her fingers off the butt, troubled by how quickly her law enforcement training had been suborned.
Annalee made herself abandon her emotional reaction and think rationally, analyze the situation the way she had learned on the job. She wouldn’t have pegged Rachael as an abuser or Lunella as a victim, but she had been in law enforcement long enough to know that outward appearances were usually deceptive. Households had secrets. People did crazy shit behind closed doors. However, she had become a witness to what could only be regarded as a physical assault. That meant she was involved in her official capacity as sheriff. She would have to speak to Lunella when she was certain they wouldn’t be overheard.
“Yes, ma’am,” Lunella replied diffidently to Rachael. Her gaze shifted to Annalee. “Are you ready to go?”
Annalee’s gut clenched, but she answered smoothly, “Sure. I’ve got everything I need for now. Mrs. Skinner, please thank your husband for me. I appreciate his cooperation.”
Rachael nodded.
Although it went against the grain to turn her back on a known abuser, Ann
alee followed Lunella out of the house. Once they were headed down the trail, she put a hand on Lunella’s arm, halting her. “Hey, how are you doing?” she asked, pitching her voice soft.
“I’m fine.” Lunella gave her a smile that seemed genuine. The mark on her cheek had already faded to a slight pink.
“Do you want to press charges?” Annalee waited until Lunella made the expected protest before continuing, “If you don’t press charges, the abuse will never end. I know you’re scared, but look, there won’t even be a discussion of jail time for your aunt. The DA won’t ask for that on a first offense. She’ll get court-ordered anger-management sessions. She’ll learn to control…oh, honey, don’t cry. I’m going to help you, I promise. It’ll be okay.”
To her consternation, Lunella’s shoulders started shaking. She covered her face with both hands, making distressing sounds. When she looked up at last and lowered her hands, her eyes sparkled with good humor. She grinned. “Anger m-m-management?” she wheezed, obviously finding the notion hilarious.
Annalee waited. Lunella might be having hysterics. After all, people had strange stress reactions sometimes.
Lunella continued giggling, making noises like a broken bellows until she was as red as a beet. “Anger management!” she hooted.
Annalee was beginning to feel somewhat embarrassed, like she had made a wrong call despite the slap she witnessed. Nevertheless, she remained patient, figuring she would get an explanation eventually.
At last, Lunella wound down, a hand curled over her ribcage. “Oh, I ain’t had fun like that in a long time,” she said between gasps. “Whoo! Hurts like a sumbitch.”
“Mind telling me what’s so funny?” Annalee asked, vaguely resentful.
Lunella stood a bit straighter, still clutching her sore ribs. She wiped her face with the heel of her free hand. “Just the idea of Aunt Rachel…oh, Lord!”
“Don’t start up again or we’ll be here all day.” Annalee tried for a stern tone. Domestic violence was a serious issue, damn it. “Really, what’s so funny about abuse?”
“S’not what you think,” Lunella said, clearly making an effort to address her concern. “You don’t understand our family, the way things work. I was out of line, I guess you’d say. Rachael had the right.” Her smile became sly. “Do you like me?”
The question took Annalee aback. “Well, I…I don’t…” she stammered.
“It’s okay. Honestly, I like you too. Really I do. I like you a lot.” Lunella leaned forward. Before Annalee could move away, put a little distance between them, make a protest, for God’s sake, Lunella’s mouth was on hers.
She tried not to encourage the kiss, but Lunella was insistent, and so she did nothing to discourage it either. Lunella reached up and tilted her head to the exact right angle to apply gentle little licks along her lips. Goosebumps rose tingling on her skin from neck-to-knees. This was good, so incredibly good. Their bodies fit together with seamless perfection.
Lunella made breathy, happy-sounding noises and pressed herself against Annalee, a hand on her hip and the other hand squeezing her buttock.
Against her common sense, against her good judgment, Annalee forgot everything and felt herself responding, turning pliant in the embrace, her mouth opening to admit Lunella’s tongue. She arched into the solid warmth of Lunella’s body. Her nipples tightened, rubbing almost painfully against her cotton undershirt. The heat of desire burned low in her belly.
She moaned, the sound startled out of her when Lunella nipped at her throat, nuzzling and dragging kisses over the line of her jaw. The same thing had happened in the dream, she recalled vaguely. Her mind went muzzy, details slipping away. She was too captivated by what was happening here and now.
Raising shaking hands, Annalee cupped the side of Lunella’s face, her thumb smoothing over the cheek Rachael had slapped. Her hand dipped lower, until she could feel the steady flutter of Lunella’s pulse at the base of her throat.
Tremors ran through her, a series of incredibly intense shocks tingling outward from her spine and upward from the boiling slickness between her legs.
The kiss suddenly turned wilder, more desperate, fueled by the mysterious alchemy of lust and pure want. Letting out a surprisingly loud snarl, Lunella grabbed Annalee and crushed their mouths together, their teeth clashing like Lunella was trying to devour her alive.
Annalee surrendered, begging silently for more. Heady sensation rushed through her, leaving her oblivious to almost everything except the intense, bruising force of Lunella’s mouth on hers. She felt as though a fist clenched her heart in a brutal rhythm.
Lunella broke the kiss and ran her lips over Annalee’s cheeks, her temples, the sensitive spot behind her ear. No tongue, no wetness, just a series of soft, sweet pressures that made the hairs on her body stand on end.
Annalee’s moan was followed by a stuttering gasp. Sharp teeth grazed her throat, the pain combined with a pleasure so incredible, she could only clutch at Lunella’s flannel-clad shoulders and hang on for dear life. She felt herself coming alive, every nerve waking, straining toward the light like a new green shoot emerging from the earth.
A bird called loudly in a tree above their heads—whip-poor-will! whip-poor-will!—and the sound acted like ice water poured over her.
Annalee pulled away, panting and lightheaded. Wiping her palm across her mouth, she watched Lunella, who stared back at her with huge golden eyes. She couldn’t speak. The words refused to be spoken.
“Mine,” Lunella said, not at all out of breath.
Annalee gasped for air. She wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or her vision, but Lunella’s outline became fuzzy. She could have sworn the woman’s face sharpened, the bones shifting beneath her skin. Uncertainty replaced desire. The moment was too much like her erotic dream, when a wolf had replaced her imaginary human lover.
“I am not yours,” Annalee whispered. “I am not yours,” she repeated more strongly. She winced and shivered when Lunella’s wordless growl reverberated loudly between them. Like an animal, she thought, but not really frightening. She read protectiveness and possession in the sound, which worried her.
She didn’t know Lunella, but her feelings were rather more powerful than she would’ve expected had she given herself permission to fantasize. What’s the old joke about two lesbians and a U-Haul? Shit, we ain’t even had a first date yet.
Lunella took a step forward, holding out her hand. When Annalee didn’t take it, she said quietly, “Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you.”
“That’s not what I’m afraid of,” Annalee replied, sounding much more tart than she intended. Lunella looked hurt and a little lost, so she added, “I’m not—look, you’re an attractive woman, very attractive. I won’t deny that. And yes, I’m attracted to you.”
“Good.” Lunella came another step toward her, smirking.
Annalee took two paces backwards. “But I can’t act on that attraction. Damn it, I’m the sheriff! Your uncle is a suspect in a murder investigation. It’s a conflict of interest for one, and for another, I just can’t. Okay? I can’t do this with you.”
“Why not?” Lunella sounded genuinely curious, not defensive at all.
Annalee considered that a good sign. Maybe the situation wouldn’t turn ugly. “Because I’m an elected official in a county where gays and lesbians don’t officially exist,” she told Lunella bluntly. “If they do, they’re expected to stay in the closet, not flaunt themselves in public where they might offend the sensibilities of good solid citizens.”
“Those people,” Lunella scoffed.
“Yes, goddamn it. This isn’t the big city, honey. I have to work with people like that every day. They have to respect my badge and my office, and they sure won’t do that if they can’t respect me as a person. It isn’t right and it sure as hell isn’t fair, but it is reality.” Annalee inhaled, a deep breath that did nothing to ease the constriction in her chest. “I wouldn’t be able to do my job and keep the peace. I’m no
t…I’m not ready to give that up.”
Lunella’s gaze remained steady. “Like your father.”
The statement was so unexpected, Annalee could only blurt, “What?”
“He knew things. Secrets. And he didn’t want to not do his job, either.” Now Lunella’s stepped backward, off the trail and into the bracken beneath the trees. “Alexander Dempsey was one of those secrets,” she went on. Her expression was stricken and slightly sick, as if she had revealed something huge, something devastating. “What Aunt Rachael said is true—this is about our survival, and that includes you. It’ll always include you, ’cause you’re mine, no matter what you think.” With that, Lunella turned around and vanished into the forest, swallowed by the undergrowth in less than an eye-blink.
Frustration made Annalee want to ball up her fists and scream, but instead she muttered, “Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck-fuck!” Another deep breath, exhaled with force, and she felt no better or any less confused.
Ezra had mentioned someone named Dempsey, calling the man a parasite worse than Lassiter. Lunella said the Alexander Dempsey fellow was a secret, a secret Jefferson Crow had known. Had her father lost his life because of some secret? Because of Dempsey? Was her father’s death connected somehow to Lassiter’s? What did Rachael and Lunella mean when they talked about their family’s survival?
So many questions and damned few answers were forthcoming.
Her feeling was akin to being frozen between one heartbeat and the next, waiting for something to happen so life could continue at its normal pace. The investigation was being pulled into a murky direction, where motives and players remained unclear.
Annalee jammed her hat on her head and set off down the trail, headed toward the gate. Murder seemed to be just one of her problems.
“Mine,” Lunella had insisted.
Part of her wanted desperately to respond, “yours,” but she could not. She dared not. Lunella’s embrace, the fevered kisses, the dizzying sensation of belonging that had felt so natural, so right…she couldn’t forget any of it, no matter how hard she tried.
