by Chloe Cole
The next time he closed his eyes more than an hour later, he willed the horrific images to come again so they would remain etched in his mind and keep him focused.
The blood.
The crime scene.
The expression on young Paulie's lifeless face.
But as he drifted off to sleep, the last face he saw was Mina's.
Chapter Five
Mina's lids snapped open as something damp and cold pressed against her neck, jarring her awake from a fitful sleep. Sad, brown eyes peered into hers as a hot blast of dog breath washed over her face.
It took her a second to get her bearings, but then it all came rushing back at once. The bar, the murder, the crime scene.
She was at Dan’s house, still on his couch, listening to the sound of rain pattering against the roof, and this was his dog, Susie Q.
"Hey there, sweetness. What are you doing up here?" she murmured softly, reaching up a hesitant hand to scratch the dog's head like she'd seen the Sheriff do. To her surprise, the dog didn't pull away. In fact, she only came closer and nuzzled her neck again. Strange how just that simple touch took some of the chill off that icy feeling that had been building in her chest.
Animals didn't typically fear her. She didn't give off that apex predator scent the way that Etienne or the wolves did, but they didn't know what to make of her because she was an unknown, so they typically kept their distance.
Susie Q likely would've continued down that same path, but she clearly needed Mina's attention. She batted a paw at Mina's forearm and made a low chuffing sound in her throat.
"What is it, girl?" she whispered, patting the dog's head again before rolling forward to sit up. "Timmy tripped and fell down the well?"
Susie Q regarded her blankly, clearly unimpressed by her sense of humor. Mina stood and flexed her stiff shoulders, glancing around the dim room for some sign of a leash.
"Do you have to go potty? Because I'm not sure if you're allowed outside without a..." She trailed off as Susie bolted from the room and down the hall, ears flopping.
Mina bent low to slip off her boots and padded after the little bloodhound. She didn't want to wake Dan if she could help it. The man was facing a long, exhausting day, and he needed as much rest as he could manage.
She glanced out the window as she passed, noting the dank gray sky. She'd probably only slept for an hour or two. As a shifter, that was enough to recharge on a normal day, but she felt like she'd been run through a garbage disposal after last night.
She turned to follow Susie down the hall and halted as the dog stopped in front of an open door halfway down.
A bathroom maybe? Or maybe a laundry room where her food bowl lived?
Mina crept closer and then froze as a low groan came from the room. Susie shot her an expectant glance and she closed the distance between them, a sense of foreboding washing over her.
Was Dan sick? Or worse, injured? Had they somehow tracked her here and she'd slept through some terrible fight? Surely, she would've scented them if they'd come...
"Please be all right," she murmured under her breath. Irrational or not, her fear was real and all-encompassing as she peered into the darkened room, pulse pounding.
Dan was sprawled across the bed, his big body taking up the lion's share. He was naked to the waist, and from what she could see, he was uninjured.
Her knees buckled with relief and she lowered herself to a squat to stroke Susie's head.
"He's okay, girl," she whispered.
But the second the words left her lips, Dan let out an anguished groan that made the hair on her arms stand up.
"Look out, Jesus, look out," he grunted, body twisting, hands clenching at the air as he wrestled with some unseen threat.
He was having a nightmare. And from what she could tell, it was a doozy.
Not her problem. She was already in too deep here in Montana, and the less she involved herself with these people and their problems, the better off she would be. She needed to back out of the room, lay back down on the couch and use this time to deal with her own problems.
"No!"
His guttural cry sent a shaft of pain slicing through her. She could feel it as plainly as if it were her own...sense the deep crimson of his grief.
She couldn't leave him like this, no matter how much she wanted to.
Susie Q whimpered softly and Mina ruffled her fur once more before straightening.
She'd wake him up and that would be that. No questions, no impromptu counseling session. Just wake him up, tell him she was hungry or something, and pretend nothing had happened.
She sucked in a steadying breath and made her way into the room, creeping closer on light feet.
When she reached the bed, she peered down and bit back a gasp.
Dan's thickly muscled chest was slick with sweat, but it was the scars that had her reeling. Aside from a six-inch patch of skin on his shoulder emblazoned with the image of a Native American warrior, they were everywhere. Some new, some old, criss-crossing over one another to cover his left shoulder all the way down until they disappeared beneath the sheet that lay over his hips. Ropy and thick...deep scars.
The kind that came from battle.
Rain came harder, the patter on the roof becoming a beat that seemed to sync with the pounding of her pulse.
How he must have suffered.
Helpless to stop it, she reached out a hand and laid her fingertips against the deepest of the old wounds, one that bisected his pectoral muscle. His skin was hot--too hot, and she moved to pull away but his arm shot up and he captured her wrist in his fingers, imprisoning her there.
Her gaze shot to his face in surprise, but his eyes were still closed, brows drawn tight together as if he was still in the midst of his night terror.
She wet her suddenly bone dry lips and called to him softly.
"Dan?"
His eyes snapped open, but they were wide and unseeing, as if he were in a trance.
"You're okay. Jesus, thank God you're okay," he muttered.
One second, she was on her feet, the next she was sprawled over his naked chest, her face just inches from his own. She could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, reverberating through her own.
"Dan?" she murmured, more urgently this time.
But he was still on another plane, lost in his dream world. The fingers that encircled her wrist tugged her hand up higher and laid it flat against his chest even as his free arm slid around her waist to rest on the curve of her ass.
Her head was spinning, but before she could catch a breath, his mouth was on hers, hungry and demanding. His kiss was equal parts desperation and relief, so overwhelming, that she couldn't bring herself to fight him. Whatever was happening in his head right now, he was consumed by it. She should've been afraid. Afraid he would hurt her...afraid that, in order to stop this, she would have to hurt him.
But she felt no fear. Just an instinct...an intense drive to comfort him in some small way.
She let her body relax, molding it against his like a second skin as she parted her lips for his seeking tongue.
Lord, his flesh was on fire. She wondered briefly if it was just the toll of his nightmare or if he had a fever, but the thoughts fizzled away as his tongue slid deeper and he used his hold on her ass to grind her closer to him, letting her feel every inch of his thick erection. Her nipples went tight and a pulse of need shot through her belly as she flexed into him.
This was crazy. Insane, really. He was going to be investigating her and things were already complicated enough. This would only complicate them further.
It's just a kiss, a soft inner voice said.
But in the deepest part of her mind, she knew different. It was more than that. A small thing on the face of it, but one that could have drastic repercussions, like a fist-sized hole in the side of an airplane.
She tensed and moved to pull away, but he groaned--a sound so low, so full of longing that she felt it curl around her and drag her
back into him like an unseen tether. She let her hands slide up his chest to clutch his shoulders, shaken to the core as she willed herself to hold on to some thread of reality...some shred of herself or risk drowning in him.
He dragged his mouth from hers and let out a low growl. "Ah, Mina."
It was the sound of her own name that hit her in the face like a slap, jarring her back to reality. She jerked away, momentarily thrown off by his strength as he resisted. She was a Valkyrie. Superhuman. Maybe not as strong as Etienne or the other dragon shifters, but certainly stronger than a man, even one as big as Dan.
She added some more muscle to it, shoving hard this time, and his grip broke as she knelt above him, her breath coming in short pants.
"Mina?" He blinked up at her, his eyes finally clearing but his expression puzzled. His gaze shot from her mussed hair to her mouth, and then lower, to where she straddled him at the hips. Confusion gave way to dawning horror.
"Jesus, did I--" His strong throat muscles worked as he swallowed hard. "Did I hurt you?"
She shook her head swiftly, realizing he had been asleep the entire time, even when he'd called her name. Had she been part of his nightmare? Or had a tiny part of his mind been conscious of her presence in the room with him?
Whatever the case, he was fully awake now, and clearly beating himself up for something that hadn't been his fault at all.
"I'm fine, it's okay, Dan." She shimmied off his lap, hyper-aware of his still hard cock and muscled thighs as she did.
He dragged a sheet over his hips and elbowed his way to sitting with his back against the headboard as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Was I yelling?" he asked, his voice gruff as he scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. "I do that sometimes. I should've warned you, but it's been a long time. Almost a year, and I thought..."
He'd thought his nightmares were over since he'd moved to this quaint little town. Until she and her kind had come and brought them back with ruthless efficiency.
She bit her lip and peered at him over her shoulder, wishing she could tell him how sorry she was for all the trouble she'd caused.
And all the trouble she was going to cause.
Because there was no way this was the end of it. The message hadn't been an entreaty. Not really. Anyone who knew her knew she would never turn herself in. She'd be a fool to do that, and she was nobody's fool. It had been a promise of more violence to come. Here, there, didn't matter where. Even if she was the type to run and hide--and she wasn't--running was futile. People would be hurt and lives would be lost.
A stand would have to be taken and it might as well be here in Montana.
Still, the guilt that came with the knowledge bit at her, hard. If she found a way to survive this mess, once she had avenged Paulie's death, she vowed to find a way to make this up to Dan somehow.
"I have nightmares sometimes too," she admitted, forcing her lips into a stiff smile. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."
He nodded, crossing his arms over his chest in a belated attempt to hide his scars, probably to keep her from asking about them.
He didn't have to worry on that front. She wasn’t asking him shit. Her emotions were so close to the surface in the wake of the clerk's death, hearing a firsthand account of whatever atrocities Dan had suffered to earn scars like that would likely be the tipping point for her. That last little push she needed to go off the deep end into a depression so deep and so solitary, she wasn't sure she'd ever find her way out.
"Yeah. Well, I'm sorry to put you through that."
She shrugged off his apology and rose to stand on shaking legs. "It's all good. It was my fault for coming in. It was just that Susie here was worried about you."
She bent low to pat a now quiet Susie Q on the head, which the dog allowed graciously before trotting back out of the room now that her master was no longer agitated.
"Do you want me to make those eggs now or are you going to try to get some more sleep?" she asked, suddenly very conscious of her body baring clothes.
Strange how most days they felt like a costume. A shield that gave her a sense of confidence...a feeling of invincibility. Under the weight of Dan’s gaze, though, she felt entirely too exposed.
To his credit, he didn't let his eyes wander, instead focusing on a space over her shoulder.
"Sure, eggs would be great if you don't mind. I'll hit the shower and then you can get in, if you like. Then we'd better head out to the station. Going to be a long day."
Didn't she know it.
Not only did she have to stay one step ahead of a passel of assassins and figure out how to create a fake trail for her fake boyfriend, she also had to create a record of a life in Denver she'd never lived.
Recalling, all the while, how Sheriff McCafferty’s mouth had felt on hers...
He was right about one thing. It was going to be a very long day.
Chapter Six
"You have a call from the station over in Bozeman."
Dan looked up to see Rip standing in the doorway, a tight expression on her round face. There were dark smudges beneath her eyes and she looked about as well rested as he felt. No surprise given that she'd been back at the station even before him, and it had been a mad house since their arrival two hours ago.
Calls from families of the missing people, frantic to know if the motel killer could have something to do with the disappearance of their loved one. The public in a near frenzy over the story a local news outlet had put out about a potential serial killer. And he'd just hung up with the editor of the Gazette after threatening to slap him with an obstruction of justice charge if he ran some fabricated story they'd titled Dew Drop Dead that somehow intimated that the murder was committed by the motel owner over some monetary dispute.
If the general public would leave him and his people to do their job instead of having to deal with all this other bullshit, maybe they could actually find the person responsible.
None of which was Rip's fault, he reminded himself, resisting the urge to mutter a string of curse words as he realized who was on the other end of the telephone line.
"Thanks." He blew out a sigh and picked up the phone pressing the blinking button. "McCafferty here," he snapped into the receiver.
"Morning Sheriff, Bernie Gillis." His tone dripped with fake cordiality that made Dan's hackles rise even higher. "Just wanted to check in and see if we can be of any help with this Dew Drop Inn mess you've got brewing."
Fucking Gillis. Never wanted to help when they needed to borrow some equipment or could use a rush on some labs, but when there was a chance of some media coverage, Bernie was falling all over himself to get involved.
Dan shoved his irritation and ego aside and tossed the pen he'd been clicking obsessively onto the desk.
"Yeah, I might just have to take you up on that. Give me a few hours to dig through what we've got and I'll give you a call back."
"Allrighty, then. As always, Sheriff, whatever you need. And--"
The man was still talking when Dan set the receiver back in its cradle.
"Asshole," Rip murmured, only half under her breath.
"You got that right," he agreed. "But unfortunately for us all, we might need him. Or at least some of his guys."
She tipped her head in a grudging nod and turned to go before stopping short and facing him again. "Where's Mina, by the way?" she asked, glancing around the office as if she half-expected her to pop out from under the desk.
"She's in the spare office at the end of the hall, poring through her online social media files in search of a clear and recent picture of her ex that we can use."
"And you trust her to do that alone?" she asked, doubts ringing clearly in her tone.
Did he?
He couldn't deny he felt...something for Mina that wasn't natural after only one night. Granted, it had been an eventful night. One that had encompassed flirting, fighting, kissing and the discovery of a dead body. He'd had entire relationships that had been less complicate
d.
But trust?
Hell no.
Even at that, though, he somehow sensed after the way she’d treated him during his nightmares, beneath the half-truths and the secrets she was clearly hiding, she was a good person. A brave person. One who cared about others and tried to do the right thing.
And, as sad as it was, he'd come across few enough of those types of people to recognize the value of that. So he'd been lenient so far, giving her the benefit of the doubt until he was proven wrong about her as they tried to get to the bottom of this senseless tragedy.
"I think we're shorthanded and she has personal knowledge that should help her complete the task more quickly than we could do right now. If she can't find a picture of him, and he doesn't show up once the pulled prints are run through the database, then we'll call in a sketch artist."
Rip's tight jaw told him she wasn't exactly mollified by his explanation, but he didn't have time for coddling.
"Look, the M.E. estimated time of death at ten P.M. and she's alibied for almost two hours around that, both ways." He laid his hands on the desk and held Ripley's gaze. "She might have some skeletons rattling around in her closet, but she didn't kill that kid, so cut her a little slack. She's had a rough night too, all right?"
"Roger that, boss," she muttered, and then backed out of his office before shutting the door behind her with a sharp snap.
He stared at the closed door, more puzzled by the second.
What the hell had gotten into her? He'd noticed it yesterday a little, too. A very definite chill at points, but not to this extent. She was clearly not a fan of Mina. Did she have a bad vibe and think the other woman was guilty of something, or was it just some sort of feminine jealousy? Lord knew Mina was gorgeous enough to give most women an inferiority complex. But Rip wasn't most women. She was salt of the earth. The type that didn't care about those things.
So was it him that was wrong, then? Was he so dazzled by Mina's raw sexuality that he couldn't see that she was a big, bad wolf in sex-kitten clothing?
