by Ladew, Lisa
Wade addressed the officers near the back of the room. “Everybody, clear out, go back to work. Find something to do that is not in this room. We’re all done here.” He raised his hands to include all the males in the room. “That means everyone! Come back in fifteen minutes.”
The officers in blue uniforms and dark detective outfits moved slowly, some grumbling.
“Now!” Wade roared, reverberations from the word bouncing off the walls and making Ella jump. The room cleared in under thirty seconds. Trevor pulled Ella back against the wall like they were exempt from following the order.
Wade addressed the woman. “Miss, ah, if you would, could you go stand over there?” He pointed to a far corner of the room.
The blonde woman nodded and scrambled to her feet, hurrying to near the wall where Wade had indicated, her eyes bouncing between Graeme and Ella.
Wade turned to Graeme, hands open, indicating Blake and the bearen. “Let them go, so they can leave. They won’t touch her.”
Graeme’s eyes fell on Wade and he nodded. Ella half expected him to clunk their heads together, but, instead, he very gently released their throats, peeling his fingers away delicately. Both males triple-timed it out of the room, sucking in huge breaths as they did so.
“Everyone’s gone,” Wade said, as if he were discussing the weather, then he turned to Graeme. Ella held her breath to see what would happen. Wade was in charge of all the wolven in the area, but Graeme was not wolven.
The two males locked eyes, Wade’s stance tensing, while Graeme’s relaxed. Ella watched, fascinated, but nothing seemed to happen. She felt eyes on her and looked to the woman in the corner. She was tall, slim, blonde hair messy but gorgeous, no makeup, wearing an outfit that made her look like she was going hunting.
She was watching Ella.
Could the situation be any more awkward? Ella smiled and lifted her hand to wave at the woman, but, when she did, blondie’s cheeks heated and she moved her gaze quickly back to Graeme.
Ella took a long moment to look over the woman, knowing as well as anyone that something big was happening, then she, also, looked back to the two males in the center of the room. They both still stood quietly, eyes locked.
“What’s going on?” she whispered to Trevor.
“They’re talking.”
“Why can’t we hear them?”
“Ruhi can be kept private between two shiften who are strong in it.”
The blonde woman spoke up. “Look, ah, I don’t mean to tell you all how to do your job, but, ah, maybe I should come back later? This doesn’t seem to be a good time.”
She stared at Graeme as she said it, and somehow Ella knew the woman didn’t want to leave, but she did want Graeme to turn to her, look at her, notice her, talk to her.
Graeme fidgeted and Wade turned his head slightly, but the two males did not break their silent conversation. Graeme pressed his lips together and shook his head left and right with agitation.
Ella pulled away from Trevor. “I should go talk to her. But first, tell me what Beckett meant when he said he was briefed about a fire this morning.”
Trevor caught her arm, looking at the woman as if for the first time. His mind seeming far away, he whispered, “Someone bound sticks of decorative bamboo and cloth together to spell out words that formed a message on the hill last night in front of an abandoned business, then started the whole mess on fire.”
Tingles flooded Ella. “What was the message?”
“You are not the last dragon.”
***
Heather stared at the two men in the middle of the room, not sure what to do. What she should do was run screaming out the door and turn herself in at another station, where the cops were not insane. But he was here. She couldn’t ignore that kind of coincidence. If she left, she might never see him again. Yesterday, she’d thought about him frequently, telling herself she’d go back, talk to Dr. Gilman, find out who the mystery man was and how she could get to know him. A fantasy, maybe, but one that made her feel normal for the first time in months.
But since she’d woken up in the middle of the street, enigmatic words blazing jauntily in front of her, she hadn’t been able to think about anything but the fact that she was now a criminal. Worse, that she’d fled the scene of the crime. That cops were looking for her, and when they found her they’d handcuff her and haul her off to jail. She’d never been handcuffed or arrested. Her closest experience with the inside of a cell was watching ‘Orange is the New Black’ on Netflix.
She’d stewed all morning, knowing she was going to turn herself in, there had never been any question about that. The only question had been when.
She’d finally gotten the courage to drive to the station and walk in the front door, but actually saying the words, “I started the fire,” had eluded her. Then the fire inspector had walked in and done it for her. Then the guy from the hospital bed had come in and flipped out. Fun times.
But he looked so different! Her eye traveled over his face and body, taking in all the changes. His cheeks weren’t hollow anymore and either he looked even better in clothes than he did out of them, or he’d put on twenty pounds of muscle overnight. He’d shaved and even his hair was longer. He looked good.
Good enough to forgive the little freak-show he’d pulled? Grabbing two men by the throat because… because they’d been near her? Because one of them had touched her? Could that really be why? They’d only met once, and she couldn’t even call that a meeting. She wasn’t even sure he remembered.
She knew she should be scared. Outraged, even. But she wasn’t. Instead, some deep part of her embraced what should have scared the crap out of her. It didn’t make sense to her yet, but it would, something about him told her it would.
Her eyes drifted off the two men in the center of the room for just a moment and landed on the other man standing on the far side of the large room, his arm protectively around the woman who’d looked at her a few moments before. They were having a heated conversation. The man didn’t interest her, but the woman pulled her senses in similar manner that the man from the hospital bed did. Smooth black hair framed her pale face perfectly, giving her an elegant look. She was dressed in yoga pants and a warm-looking pullover, and the man next to her looked like he’d maim anyone who even glanced at her wrong. Something about her called to Heather, made her want to know who the woman was.
Their eyes met again, and this time Heather knew she was going to come over. The only thing that bothered Heather more than awkward introductions, was silence, and the silence between the two men at the center of the room was freaking her out just a little bit too much to deal with an awkward introduction, no matter how big of a pull she felt toward the woman.
“Hey, dangerous criminal over here, is someone going to arrest me, or what?” she called out loudly.
Her guy─ she was already thinking of him as her guy and she didn’t even know his name, her mother would be thrilled─ made a noise she could only describe as a snort and broke eye contact with the other man. He faced her, eyes blazing. Uh oh. Another freak out was on its way.
But before he could lose it, the older man spoke up. “Graeme, why don’t you take her out to lunch?”
Warmth billowed inside of Heather. Graeme. She loved it. She whispered it to herself. Graeme. Even his name was sexy. She was so totally done for. Which wasn’t a good thing, since her mother actually would not be thrilled that the first man she’d ever shown any interest in was twice her age. Her mother would hate it. Hate him.
Graeme faltered. “You want me to process her?” His voice rumbled with a very slight Scottish brogue that she hadn’t noticed when he’d been yelling before. It was so yummy, she wanted to eat him for dessert while he read something, anything, to her.
“No, I want you to take her out to lunch. She looks hungry. So do you.” The man turned to Heather. “My name is Wade Lombard. I’m the Deputy Chief of the department. I have to apologize for everything you’ve been through tod
ay. I understand your situation is quite delicate, but I don’t think there’s any need for anything quite so formal. Would you be willing to go out to lunch with Officer Kynock, Miss? He’ll talk to you about what happened, get your side of the story.”
He made it sound so reasonable. Like she’d gotten in an argument with someone over a parking space instead of lit something on fire. Her stomach growled, as if to try to agree for her. “Sure,” she said haltingly. She wanted to. Lord knew she wanted to go anywhere with that man, Officer Kynock. Graeme. Funny, he didn’t look like a cop.
Chief Lombard beamed, but Graeme glowered, making Heather shrink a little bit. He didn’t want to take her out. Heather pressed her hands to her temples. The whole situation was starting to make her head hurt.
“That’s settled, then.” The Chief patted Graeme on the arm. “Take her somewhere nice. Check in with me later.” He turned to Heather. “What’s your name, dear?”
“Heather Herrin.”
Chief Lombard’s face squinched up. “Heather?” he repeated.
Graeme looked directly at her, the eye contact flooring her, making her mouth go dry. She couldn’t look away. A longing inside her welled up, taking her by surprise, in the exact way the fire-lust always had. Oh, God, the fire-lust was the very worst thing in her entire life. She didn’t want to equate it with this man.
She tore her eyes away and pressed a hand to her mouth, looking at Chief Lombard instead. He had turned around and looked at the man and woman on the other side of the room. “Heather?”
The woman spoke up. “It’s a purple flower.”
Chief Lombard turned back around, a knowing, triumphant expression on his face, then practically pushed Graeme towards her.
Heather barely noticed the strange conversation. Her eyes and mind were on Graeme. He looked like he would rather run screaming out the door than even talk to her.
Big surprise. Story of her life. She didn’t know how she’d been granted this intermission in the process of becoming a convicted criminal, but apparently it wasn’t going to include any fascinating, sexy side-trip into daddy-issue-land for her.
Too bad. She would have given anything to have an interesting story to tell her cats when she was old and graying and alone. Would they let her have cats in prison?
His eyes met hers again and although she still saw the reluctance there, she also saw something deeper. Something behind the reluctance. An acknowledgement of her as a woman and a secret yearning she could identify with that added a dimension of mystery to what she saw as reluctance, but that could have been something much deeper.
In a dark flash, she made a decision. Fuck her jitters, her doubt and apprehension, and the fact that this was not at all what she thought was going to happen when she tried to turn herself in to the police. Fuck what her mother would think, what anyone else wanted her to do or thought she was or wasn’t. She wasn’t giving up without a fight. If there was even the slightest chance that she could get Officer Graeme Kynock to notice her, she was going to take it.
Chapter 11
Graeme stalked across the room, shame filling him, his eyes on the young woman who had started this mess just by existing. He knew what his over-the-top, irresponsible, juvenile response meant. He was staring at a one true mate. One meant for him, somehow, by all the folly of angels and deities with nothing better to do than play with the lives and hearts and souls of their creations.
He hated the game, and he, for one, was done playing it. How to get that message across to everyone else involved, though, he didn’t know. Maybe leaving was his best option.
She certainly was young, though. And pretty. Fresh. Sweet-looking, like if he managed to get his mouth on her tongue or her other soft spots, the taste would overwhelm him. He could imagine it. Saliva filled his mouth as his brain told him exactly how good she would taste.
He clamped his tongue between his teeth and bit down hard. Absolutely not. He was almost a millennium old. He would not be tossed about by his hormones and the wants of his body like a babe in arms or a torrid teen.
Besides, they weren’t the wants of his body. They were something planted there by some supposedly superior being who claimed to know better.
He would not be a part of any of it.
“Miss Herrin,” he started as he got within a few feet of her, his words almost stuttering as he caught her scent. Roasted chicory with a hint of toasted sugar on a hot summer night under a full moon. Nights when the burden of life had not yet settled on his shoulders. Hours of freedom soaring under a heavy, welcoming sky, with nothing between him and happiness.
His knees buckled. Oh, to be that youngster again. It would almost make this world bearable.
“Please, call me Heather.” She lifted her chin to look up at him, blonde wisps of hair catching in the eyelashes of her right eye.
He curled his fingers into his palms to keep from brushing the hair back into place. She was not for him and he would not act as if she was.
He walked past her on leaden legs and pushed the door to outside open, looking back at her and motioning that she should step through it.
She did, her eyes on him the entire time, her face full of something indefinable, but oh, so lovely, something he wished he could unsee. It did things to him.
As the door closed behind them and the cold outside air swirled around them, he looked into her eyes as best he could. “Why don’t I walk you to your car, Miss.”
She stared at him for a long moment before answering. “Didn’t your boss just tell you to take me out to lunch?”
The defiant tone in her voice made his lips curl into a smile. They might all be pawns on somebody’s chess board, but she was not willing to back down from what she wanted. She did not know he would kill her. He could not believe otherwise.
“He’s not my boss,” he said, his eye traveling over her cheekbones, the slightly upturned nose, her lithe body. He bit his lip again and looked at the pavement.
“I’m hungry,” she said, simply stating a fact. No whining or needling there, her voice pleasant and warm.
God help him, he would not be impressed by her. He would not take her out. The smartest thing to do would be to take her right back around the front of the building and introduce her to some young, hulking wolfen who would be a perfect fit for her.
The thought made his blood heat to an almost unbearable temperature, even for him, and he looked around for someone to maul.
She took a step backwards and alarm crossed her face. Damnú! He calmed himself quickly, wondering just how high he’d turned the heat up. Words bubbled up his throat. “I don’t have a car. Can you drive us?”
Something flitted across her face that he would have called embarrassment if he knew her better.
“Let’s walk,” she said, pointing her body toward the street. “There are several good restaurants a few blocks away. Do you, um, want to get a coat?”
Graeme eyed her light jacket. “I’m good,” he said, and began to walk. She fell into step beside him as they reached the street and she pointed left. He turned that way, then looked at the bare trees, the sky, the businesses across the street, anywhere but at her, almost unable to believe he had agreed to any of this, but after a few minutes he relaxed. She had a calm spirit and it soothed him, made him realize none of this had to be a big deal. Fates could be avoided. Sidestepped. His stomach clanged solidly, reminding him of how long it had been since he’d eaten. Weeks. Lunch suddenly seemed like the best idea in the world, and pleasant company did not have to mean a mating.
Restaurants appeared along the street and enticing smells began to pull at him. Lemon chicken dripping in butter, fresh lightly-seasoned lake trout, seared steak with sauce. He could pick out the scent of every dish being cooked in every restaurant they passed and he wanted them all. Her scent mixed in occasionally with the food, enhancing it to the point where he felt starved. He plowed steadily forward, unable to suggest they stop anywhere, no matter how rude he was being.
/> She didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, Benihana, I love this restaurant,” she cried from behind him, having come to a halt on the sidewalk.
A smile tugged at his lips. “Benihana it is,” he said politely and held the door open for her. The smile she gave him made his stomach stop clanging for just a moment.
Inside, a Japanese hostess with black hair down to her knees and a nametag reading Chiemi greeted them. “Good afternoon. Chef’s table, or regular seating?” she said, without even a hint of an accent.
Graeme looked to Heather. He’d never been in a Benihana before, but the scents from the other room told him it was exotic food cooked on an iron grill with a drizzle of a rich oil.
“Chef’s table?” she asked breathlessly.
The hostess smiled brightly. “The wait is one hour.”
Heather’s face fell only slightly. “Ok, regular seating then.”
“Certainly, that will be fifteen minutes. Please have a seat.”
Graeme watched Heather sit down at a row of chairs along the wall, then he moved in close to Chiemi, producing a hundred-dollar bill from a clasp in his pocket. “Could we be seated at the chef’s table within the next five minutes?”
Chiemi smiled and made the bill disappear. “Certainly, Sir. I will be right back.”
Graeme crossed the room to be closer to Heather. He wanted to see that smile on her face again.
Chiemi returned quickly. “A table has opened up, right this way.”
Heather bounced up and there it was. A mega-watter that made Graeme’s stomach flip. He followed her into the large open room with grills located strategically and ten diners placed to a grill, one chef behind each. Chiemi led them to an empty grill and sat them on one end of it. Graeme pulled out Heather’s chair and the mega-watt smile appeared again. It gladdened his heart and he hated that.
“Your chef will be out momentarily,” Chiemi said, then disappeared.
Heather turned to him, a gorgeous light on her face. “Don’t you just love this place?”
