Holly slipped out of the car, her wavy black hair crammed back in a bun, curls sprouting from the up-do in a wild, mad scientist look that, surprisingly, looked sexy as hell on her. It was the look of a woman who’d been up as long as he had, had been just as worried, and hating every minute of being useless. Her steel-gray eyes met his, exhaustion mingling with defeat. Once again, the Hunter had won.
“Thanks for meeting me here,” she said, and he shrugged.
“Let’s just get this done and over with.” The words came out harder than he’d meant, a growl mixed in them, but she didn’t flinch at the rough, broken sound. Instead, her chin dipped in a slight nod, her shoulders sagging under the weight of a long night.
“I’m going to guess you want to be the one to tell her family?”
“Yes.”
“I figured. She was your wolf.” Pain and guilt smoldered in her eyes as she looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
There was more emotion in those two words than Caine knew what to do with. Her voice was so rich with sorrow it seemed to bleed with the pain. Regret left her normally soothing, strong voice hollow. It had a barren sound, tinny, that echoed around in his head. “You were there?”
Again.
She flinched and looked away. Another thing she couldn’t tell him. Jesus Christ. What did he have to do to get some information? What hadn’t she told him that might have saved Claire? His hands fisted at his sides, muscles bunched with the urge to throttle her, but Caine held himself back. “She was my wolf.”
“I know. I’m sorry, we did all we could. I know you want every last detail, but I can’t give you that. We hold information back so we can weed through the wackos that call in admitting to crimes they didn’t commit. We hold it back so the killer doesn’t find out everything we know. It doesn’t help you, but sooner or later it’ll help us catch this guy.”
Her eyes closed, shutting him out. She tilted her head up towards the sky before she breathed the next words out. “And yes, I wish we could have saved her.”
Holly hugged herself tightly, her knuckles white as they gripped her biceps, and suddenly, the tough, no-nonsense Enforcement Hound looked scared. Vulnerable. Those big, blue-gray eyes opened and he saw the tears there, watched her turn her head to the side as she tried to blink them away.
Christ. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. Caine exhaled on heavily, his anger draining out of him. What was she supposed to do? He stepped forward only to have her flinch away, gray gaze slashing against his. A flicker of a warning. “Look, I’m tired. I just wanted to be the one to give you this. Be the one to tell you what we can.”
Because she couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know.
Yeah, he got that. “Let me see her, then.”
He followed Holly inside, the scent of fresh brewed coffee greeting him at the door. It looked peaceful, the mocha-colored walls inviting. Warm. Holly led him past the mahogany chairs in the waiting room. Caine cringed. Nice of them to make sure the families could wait in comfort before seeing their loved ones on steel slabs. It sure as hell didn’t soften the blow.
Fighting the urge to snarl, Caine blocked it all out, his gaze on the woman in front of him, the steady sway of her rounded hips. Her hand trembled when she lifted it to swipe back a stray, frazzled strand of hair.
“How long have you been up?”
A grim smile flashed over her face as she looked back at him. “All night.”
The medical examiner greeted them as they entered, the young woman no older than Holly. Long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, she wore a square, white smock hung over what would be a lean body underneath. Unlike Holly, this woman looked like she’d seen a happy side of her pillow for most of the night, her smile pleasant from a good night’s rest, and her attitude fizzed with the coffee he could smell on her breath.
“Just got her in. I haven’t had much time to clean her up.” The ME glanced his way and Caine peeled back his lips in a silent snarl.
“I can handle blood.” Besides, if he gave them time to clean Claire Rawson up, he might never know what had happened. He turned to pin his attention on Holly, to demand she let him have this when the Hound nodded, not even glancing his way.
“He’ll be fine. I just want the final ID, and he wants to give his pack closure. I’m sure the alpha can hold his lunch.”
“I can.”
With a nod, the ME led them over to the cold, gray slab and pulled back the sheet covering the small body underneath. Claire’s soft face stared up at the ceiling. Blood and dirt were smeared over her cheek and he could smell the rancid rot of silver in her blood. A growl trickled out of him before he could stop it and he jerked his head to the side, glancing up at the sharp glare of a fluorescent light.
Claire stank of wolf, hers and the killer’s, of silver, and Holly.
“You were there,” and this time when he said it, it wasn’t a question. He fixed his gaze on her and let her see the flash of fangs. Knowing that she couldn’t tell him what had happened only galled him more. Claire had been his responsibility. “It’s her.”
He spun on his heel and headed back down the hall. The coffee-and-cream colored walls were supposed to be inviting, framed pictures of landscapes dotting the hall. Everything to make the place feel peaceful, but it didn’t diminish his rage or grief.
The heat kicked in, humming through the vents. Caine clenched his teeth to ward off a howl and headed for the door. That bastard had shot her and let her lie there while the silver ate at her. And Holly had been there. She’d seen it. Once again, she hadn’t stopped him, either.
“Mr. Morgan,” she called after him, but he ignored her. She’d gotten what she needed, so he didn’t need to stick around. “Caine.”
He stopped on a growl, spinning to face her, and was surprised to see her shoulders sag, her eyes close. “I’m sorry.”
He’d never been so sick of those words in his life. They didn’t fix anything, didn’t change anything, and obviously sorrow didn’t do a damn towards helping him figure out what had happened.
“For what exactly?” Another growl edged his words, dark and fierce. The rumble vibrated up his chest and filled him until his whole body shook with the urge to hit something. Kill something. The wolf paced, suddenly feeling trapped under his skin. The animal wanted out, to run back to the pack and make sure everyone else was safe. Instead, Caine forced the animal back down.
“For not getting there in time.” She swayed under the force of her admission, and he stepped closer, his hands fitting easily around her upper arms as he tugged her up against him. She stiffened, a shocked gasp slipping from her, but he curled a hand around the small of her back and held her there. His palm fit against her back, a small comfort.
Damn, but her vulnerability kicked him straight in the gut. The way her steel eyes went soft, silver, almost crystalline with unshed tears. It woke every protective gene in his body. Werewolf or not, alpha or not, the damsel in distress look brought out everything that was male in him. Instinct took over, and he wanted nothing more than to plaster her against the length of his body, wrap her in his arms, and hold off the world.
Her hand slid to his chest, and his blood heated under the tentative touch, making every muscle in his body go red hot and his balls contract. Her fingers tensed and Caine knew before she could press down that she was going to push away, pull back. Like hell. A growl roused from him, not the angry snarl of his wolf, but the rumble of a man not about to be denied. The urge to protect her, just like he did his pack, was there waiting for him to give in. He hadn’t saved Claire, but he wanted to help Holly.
“Join the fucking club,” he said on a sharp bark of sound that erased the tension in her shoulders. Suddenly she wasn’t trying to pull away, but was leaning into him, her small hand clutching his shirt.
Holly pressed her face into his chest. A deep breath pressed the swell of her breasts tight against him, and she shuddered on an exhale. “You don’t understand.”
Only
because you won’t tell me everything. The muscle in his jaw leapt. He couldn’t fix the problem if she didn’t give him all the details. All he could do right now was stand here and hold her, pretend that something as simple and insignificant as a hug between strangers could fix anything.
Caine pressed harder against the small of her back, and suddenly Holly closed that little space between them until her body flatted against his. Molten heat and soft, rounded skin pressed against him. He tilted his head, nuzzling through her long hair to breathe in the scent of her. Silver. Wolf. Dog. She’d shifted? There was another dog there, too, on her skin.
Then as fast as she’d caved, she stiffened again. “Wow. This is so inappropriate.”
Holly started to pull back, pushing into his chest to enforce the added distance, but Caine inhaled softly against her skin, only to scent again, breathing her down until she filled him. A laugh slid out of her, sharp and startled. “Are you smelling me?”
“Only a little,” he said against her neck, voice gruff. “There was a second dog with you recently.”
“Mine.” She swallowed, her pulse bobbing with the motion. Fear? He turned to skim the scuff of his morning stubble along her neck, felt her chin tilt back instinctively in submission. Relaxing.
Caine pulled back. “She okay?”
“What makes you so certain my dog’s a girl?”
“One,” he lifted a hand to tug a piece of her hair back behind her ear. “I can smell her on you. And two, you don’t seem like the kind of woman who likes too many males in your life.”
“Coming from the man who was just groping me.”
A wry edge of a smile touched his lips. “If I’d been groping you I wouldn’t have stopped at your neck.”
Come to think of it, he didn’t want to stop at her neck now. She was a distraction. A hell of a surprising one at that. Going home meant he had to round up Claire’s family, tell them the official news: Their daughter wasn’t coming home. Ever. That he’d failed them, failed the pack, failed Claire. Letting go of Holly and going home meant a lot of things he’d rather just avoid.
And burying himself deep inside a certain Hound would be a nice way to do it.
Holly scrubbed a hand over her face, a deep breath shaking through her. “If I weren’t so tired right now, you wouldn’t even have gotten that far. I am sorry for your loss, though. I’ll let you know when we can release Claire’s body.”
Caine watched as she mentally gathered herself up, her spine straightening, breath coming sharper, steadier. Then she began to take a step back, and he touched her chin with nothing more than the pads of his fingertips, soft. She froze. His gaze skimmed over her lips. Thick, full, the kind of lips a man could devour and come back for seconds.
Yeah. Holly Lawrence would be one hell of a way to distract himself. Caine stepped closer and she pulled her head back, her pulse beating like a rabbit’s under his touch.
“I think we both need some sleep.” She touched his wrist softly, then shoved. “Separately.”
He didn’t try to stifle his smile, and she nodded, eyes warm. “Yeah. Didn’t think I’d followed your train of thought there, did ya? Go home, Caine.”
“One thing first.”
“I’m not kissing you.”
“Nah. Hadn’t expected you would.” Yet. They’d get to that, he decided. Because this wasn’t the last time he’d be seeing Holly. Something sick and dark lurking in his gut told him that, a virus that ate at him. He would definitely see her again, and it probably wouldn’t be for anything good. There’d be time to steal a kiss to help him forget.
“Did she die alone?”
Like everyone else.
Pain slashed over her face, a hard, brutal line that made her look away before she had to admit to the tears building in her eyes. “No.”
Caine reached up to run his knuckles down her cheek. She turned to him, startled, gray eyes wide. They shimmered with unspent tears. Tears she’d no doubt spill later. He hoped someone would be there to wipe them away for her. To hold her. He stepped away with a nod.
“Then thank you.”
Chapter Six
Exhausted, Ollie turned up her driveway. For a second her heart leapt at the sight of a dark form standing on her back porch, panic making her breath catch. Then the shadowy man stepped forward, the light from the side of her house catching familiar features topped by curly hair rumpled like a man dragged fresh out of bed, and she could feel herself grinning. Her brother Brandt. Sliding the car into park, she zipped out, slamming the door behind her with her hip. “What are you doing here?”
“Nana called. Said you weren’t sleeping.” Her brother’s gruff voice called out, heavy with worry and affection, and Ollie found herself hurrying up the walk, her strides long, even as he hopped down off the porch with his arms open wide.
She scrunched up her nose. “You didn’t come here straight from bed, did you?”
“Yeah. I did. Last night. You’re still worth it.”
Ollie skidded to a stop. “That’s a nine hour trip.”
“Which is why I caught a plane. I had the vacation time anyway.” His hazel eyes darkened, his lips thinning in a small scowl. “Hell, girl. You’re running yourself thin.”
He leaned forward, reaching to catch her in a hug and froze, drawing back far enough that she could see his eyebrows lift with surprise. “Why do you smell like wolf? Very much like one wolf in particular? New boyfriend?”
A teasing glint flashed in his eyes. Caine. The blush crept up her cheeks before she could stop it. The joys of having a dog-shifter for a brother. There were never any secrets. “It was just a friendly hug.”
“I’m sure.” A corner of Brandt’s lips lifted in a half-smile, teasing. But he didn’t push it. Obviously she looked too much like crap for that, and for once she was grateful for the lack of sleep. She wasn’t in the mood to try to convince him. Brandt tilted his head back towards the house, his wavy hair falling across his forehead. It made him look fifteen again. Sly, full of cocksure charm, and already planning how to get his sister to succumb to his latest plan. The same mischievous boy she’d grown up with.
And together they’d landed in their fair share of trouble.
“Why don’t we get you inside and get some food in you?”
His hand brushed her arm, but Ollie was already pulling away. No. She glanced out at the field. The sun had already erased most of the morning fog, leaving only a light haze of mist still lingering over the empty meadow. A storm was brewing, probably a light rain, but it wouldn’t hit until later that afternoon. Not that it mattered. She’d stand out here all day if she had to.
She could already have missed him, but for some reason she doubted that.
This was personal now. The Hunter was making that damn clear. Killing in the same spots he’d lost her, killing on her land, in front of her house, fucking with her while she tried to get there in time. A shudder rattled up her spine and Ollie sucked in a hard breath. No. He’d wait, wait until he was sure she was aware of his presence.
“Not yet.” She glanced at Brandt, saw the instant scowl on her brother’s face, and sighed. Privileged information be damned. Lennox could bring him in on the case if she wanted; after all, Brandt Lawrence was the STE alpha out of Colorado. It’d be a bonus to have another Hound on the case, especially another alpha. Especially the one who’d helped Lennox the day she’d been kidnapped by a rogue Hound and mass murderer.
Running a hand over her eyes to ward off the exhaustion, Ollie let herself lean into her brother, felt the moment he stiffened at the show of weakness, followed immediately by his arms wrapping around her.
“He comes back,” she muttered. “The day after.”
“What makes you think he hasn’t already come and gone? You did.” He tilted his head towards her car, but she shook her head.
“I just know. I know him, okay?”
“And you’re not going to sleep? Get some rest?”
“Not until he comes. And he’
ll come.”
Brandt’s gaze narrowed as he stared out over the empty field. The Hounds were apparently gone, but a loop of yellow Enforcement tap still blocked off the scene. They’d have bloodhounds out this afternoon most likely, again, to see if they could find anything else.
“If he always comes back, why don’t you have your pack out here?”
She shook her head. “There’s an unmarked on the road, and a Hound or two out in the bush, but Lennox can’t have the whole pack on this today. They have other cases and, well, he’s consistent. Not stupid.”
And I can handle it. But saying that to her big brother wouldn’t make any difference. To Brandt, she’d always be his little sister. Enforcement Hound or not. “So I’m standing vigil. He’ll want me here.”
“Which you’re going to explain to me very soon. But first—” Brandt ushered her towards the porch. “You’re going to sit down while I fetch something cold to drink. Then we’ll talk.”
“There’s beer in the fridge.”
It was barely noon, but she didn’t care. One look at Brandt, the flash of relief in his eyes, and she could see he didn’t really give a damn either. Five o’clock somewhere after all, eh? She watched him go, taking the steps in one bound. He looked rumpled. Ratty t-shirt, dirt-worn jeans, sneakers. Definitely not the cool, composed Hound he always was at work. More the boy she’d grown up with than the man he’d become.
She smiled. “All right, Nana. You win. I needed this,” she muttered, but she would never say it to her grandmother’s face. Her grandmother was right so often that she didn’t need the ego boost. A laugh slid out of her as she sank down onto one of the lawn chairs she kept on the wrap-around back deck.
“Is that a laugh I just heard from you, Ol?” he called from inside, and she shook her head, leaning back to stare up at the crisp blue sky stretched out overhead. There was moisture in the air, the taste of an oncoming storm, but none of the sulfur flavor that typically meant lightning. Just a nice, cool fall rain.
Sadie Hart Page 5
