"How much longer do you think they'll be here? Through dawn?” Cristían's stride kept a steady pace with Wyatt and Joaquin, but the shock of finding Rose's body still lingered in his voice.
"At least,” Joaquin replied.
"Damn it! By the time the police leave, their scent will be all over the place. We won't be able to pick up any leads.” Paolo's rage was going to be their undoing. At least he and Dean had the sense to stay with the group and not go off half-cocked ... for now. Wyatt couldn't guarantee what the next few hours would bring. The two were ticking bombs. If the rest of the clan decided to join their proposed hunt, nothing Wyatt could do would stop them.
"Let's finish these statements and then we can gather at my place—"
"Bullshit! I'm done listening to you!” Dean's shout exploded through the park. Those in the parking lot ahead turned to look. Conversations halted. Dean marched toward his vehicle, Paolo following close behind.
Cristían muttered a “fuck” and stalked after them. “I'll see if I can get them calmed down."
"Just make sure you don't get drawn into anything stupid,” Joaquin said.
That earned him a glare. “When, if ever, have I been stupid? I'm not the one posturing in a sad attempt to prove himself worthy as a mate and leader. And don't get me started on that mockery of a royal bonding you three had tonight.” His heels made divots in the grass as he stomped away.
Joaquin stared at the departing figures. Wyatt knew how he felt. Neither of them was earning any points with the others tonight. Wyatt didn't bother offering Joaquin false platitudes of “he didn't mean it.” He and Joaquin knew the man meant every word. Just as the death of her sisters and baby had been Carmen's breaking point, Rose's death tonight was the final blow for these three—maybe for them all.
Emergency lights reflecting off the glass made it impossible for Wyatt to see inside his SUV. The back doors were open. Three men guarded each side. Barry leaned against the hood, arms crossed, his eyes missing nothing. Sunglasses off, his eyes tracked Wyatt and Joaquin. Were they—the others—judging, too? Questioning everything and finding fault?
Trina stepped from the SUV. Bright lights silhouetted her hourglass figure. He'd love to whisk her away to a secluded island where there was nothing but warm sand and hot sex and the only question would be how soon they could fuck each other senseless. The thought should have stopped him cold. Yet it didn't. Hours ago, he could barely tolerate Trina Tate. Now, he couldn't wait to get between her thighs again.
She started his way slowly, as if unsure of his reception, as if she longed to run into his arms and toss herself around him. Fire raced through his blood and surged into his cock. He'd anchor her to his body and wedge his cock into her wet crotch, marking her as his for everyone to see.
Wyatt snorted. Their reactions to each other didn't make sense. But then, not much tonight had. Even realizing that, he still couldn't stop himself from picking up his pace.
Her features came into view as she left the blinding circle of light. He sharply inhaled when he saw the fear that haunted her eyes, caught there by unshed tears she rapidly tried to blink away. One fell to her lower lashes despite her efforts. It glistened there like a diamond in the moonlight, then trickled down her cheek. Wyatt ached to lick it away, to trace its path to the edge of her mouth and slip his tongue between her soft lips. He reached for her, heart pounding when her lips parted and another tear fell.
"Excuse me, ma'am.” A police detective cut across her path.
Trina jerked to a stop. “Yes?"
The vulnerability Wyatt had seen a second before was masked by the harder edge he'd come to associate with Trina. The part that didn't take shit from anyone. The woman who could chew a man up and spit him out just as easily as she could look at him.
"Detective Sanchez. I need to get a statement from you."
"Of course,” she quietly replied and tucked her arms over her chest.
The action caught the detective's attention. Wyatt followed his gaze to Trina's ample cleavage, then right to her fingernails and the blood caked under them.
Shit.
"Joaquin, I need your help.” Without hesitation or a word being spoken, the other man followed him over to where Trina stood.
* * * *
Trina realized her mistake too late, but she couldn't drop her hands now without arousing more suspicion.
"What's that under your fingernails?” Detective Sanchez pointed with his pen.
"Blood.” No sense denying the obvious.
"Did you touch the victim?"
"No, I ... um—"
"The blood's mine.” Joaquin yanked up his shirt to reveal the scratches Carmen had gouged across his smooth stomach. “Trina and I snuck away from the rest of the group for a little quiet time. I'd prefer my wife not find out about this. Trina and I were hoping to keep our lapse in judgment our little secret, but under the circumstances...” He shrugged.
Trina pulled her gaze to Wyatt and blessed his quick thinking. “I'm sorry. We were caught up in the moment. It won't happen again."
Admiration flickered in his eyes. A hint of a smile teased his lips. “Now isn't the time to discuss this."
"I'm thinking someone else might feel differently about that.” Sanchez jabbed his pen over their shoulders. “That your wife? She looks damn well pissed."
The three of them glanced in the direction indicated. Carmen stormed their way. Every fluid motion screamed she was a jaguar ready to kill.
"Good. She and I can commiserate.” Wyatt shouldered his way past Joaquin and shot him a glare. “Who knows, maybe we'll get caught up in ‘a moment’ of our own."
He snagged Carmen's elbow before she got within clawing distance. Judging from the rage burning in Carmen's eyes, it was a temporary reprieve at best. Trina hadn't been in a cat fight since high school, but she hadn't forgotten her moves or the empowerment of winning. Of course, if any physical conflict between her and Carmen got down to real cat-status, Trina didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell against her.
Joaquin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damn, what else could possibly go wrong tonight?"
"Guess we're about to find out.” Sanchez stabbed his pen into his pocket. “Chuck! Got something over here."
A gray-haired forensics tech acknowledged him with a wave and grabbed his kit.
Sanchez grinned. “Try to resist the urge for another tryst until Chuck is done. His old ticker couldn't stand the jolt.” He snickered as he walked away.
"So much for that.” Joaquin's voice was low, for her ears only. “Care to tell me why Wyatt wanted me to cover your ass?"
"Care to tell me why you didn't hesitate to do so?"
Joaquin shrugged. “All for one, one for all. United we stand, divided we fall. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer."
"I'm not your enemy.” Suddenly chilled, she tightened her arms around herself.
"But you're not exactly a friend either, are you?"
Trina didn't know what she was anymore. “I scratched my arms earlier. Wyatt healed the wounds. I'm sure he was merely trying to protect the group from exposure."
"Hmm ... we'll see.” He sighed. “We've been together a long time, as I'm sure you're aware. In times of stress, he and I don't question the reason, we merely respond."
She glanced under her lashes at him. “And yet, you're questioning it after the fact."
One corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Let's call it curiosity and leave it at that."
They were going to have to, since Chuck trotted their way.
Joaquin put a little space between them and whipped off his shirt. “Let's be quick about this."
Chuck shoved his wire-rimmed glasses up his bulbous nose and lifted his camera. Trina closed her eyes against the flash, opening them in time to see him take a DNA swab of Joaquin's chest.
Too soon it was her time to be examined. Trina expected Joaquin to desert her. But when he stayed, she wasn't certain she liked that any better. The camera flash a
s Chuck took photos of her hands, then his meticulous scraping from under her nails, was too reminiscent of another time she was considered evidence. A suspect. How long would it be before she was connected with that whole, sordid mess again?
The police dredged old wounds to the surface. She fought the vulnerability, the fear, the tears. She found erecting a hard façade impossible. Her lower lip quivered from the effort. Tears blinded her.
Then hot hands curled around her shoulders, and Wyatt's scent and body heat bathed her in comfort, gave her the haven she needed. Trina never realized how much she'd craved a hero in her life until that moment.
She leaned into him, pressed her head against his chest when Chuck finally finished. Wyatt dropped his arm around her waist and tugged her closer. Emotion overwhelmed her.
"Is that all?” Wyatt's tone suggested Chuck better be done. She laced her fingers over Wyatt's and held tight.
"Yes, sir.” He straightened and shoved his thick glasses up his nose. “But you'd better clear it with the detectives before you leave."
"Got it."
Chuck clicked his kit closed and trotted toward the crime scene.
Trina pressed her nose into the curve of Wyatt's neck and breathed him in. Somehow tonight, her memories and wants had replaced Ka-ra's. Her emotions tumbled in a freefall for Wyatt. Trina wasn't sure she could trust those emotions; they'd never served her well in the past. But she had to trust Wyatt. He was the only one who could help her.
"Thank you,” she whispered.
He tightened his hug, making her feel secure and protected. Trina wanted to cling to him and never let go.
"I was hoping to keep you from being hassled."
And protect the clan in the process? She left the question unasked.
"I probably overreacted.” He brushed a kiss against her temple. “After all, what's the worst that could happen? That they find your DNA under your nails and no wounds that match?"
Trina tensed. Those damn tears began welling up again. “I wish I could be so sure.” She swallowed past the lump closing her throat. “Wyatt ... what if ... what if I killed her?"
His muscles tightened, but he didn't let go. “What do you mean, what if? Did you? And if so, why? And why wouldn't you remember? And why isn't there more blood on you?"
She shook her head, bewildered. “I don't know. I blacked out tonight.” She frowned up at him. “It wasn't the first time. I came to and found gouges on my arms and blood on my hands. Then I learn a woman's been killed."
"Sweetheart, that's not possible. I saw ... I saw Rose. There's no way you could have done that. It took great force and an extremely sharp object to kill her, wielded by someone with a speed that kept her from calling for help."
She searched his eyes through a veil of unshed tears. “I could, if I'd shifted into a jaguar."
"That's not possible, Trina."
"Neither are any of you, but you still exist."
"We were born that way, Trina."
"Not originally. The memories I held from Ka-ra, what I learned in that cenote six months ago, told me that. Your people were created this way long ago when—"
"Every culture has its creation myths and legends."
She tsked, frustrated he didn't understand, frustrated she couldn't make things clearer. “Why is it so inconceivable to you that something happened in that cenote six months ago to alter me? Until then, nothing would have convinced me that shape-shifting jaguars existed, yet, here you are. Why are you blinding yourself to the possibility, insisting that I couldn't be one of you?"
"I'm not blinding myself. I'm just...” Jaw tight, he stared off. He looked as confused as she felt.
Trina pressed her palm against his cheek, pulling his gaze back down to hers. “Answers, Wyatt.” She said softly. “I need answers. And you're the only one who can give me them."
Her chest rose with his as he drew in a breath. “All right. I'm thinking I need a few answers of my own. My place or yours?"
Trina's barriers slammed into place. Old habits died hard. Few men knew where she lived, much less crossed the threshold. Then she realized how silly she was being. Wyatt knew where she lived; he was her boss. Besides, she'd shared more than her body with him the last couple of hours. He knew her darkest fears—or at least, her current darkest fears.
"My house,” she finally replied. “I'd like to clean up a bit, too."
"Shall I meet you there, or would you like to drive together? I can have Cristían follow with your car or mine, and someone else can take him home from there."
She liked that he gave her options. Having a hero was one thing, having that hero take over was another. Wyatt might be an alpha male in every facet of his life, but he tempered it well.
"I hate to admit that I'm really shaken up tonight.” Her lips trembled with her half-assed smile. “If you wouldn't mind driving me home in my car, I'd appreciate it. I'm not too anxious to be alone right now."
"I know the feeling well.” He pulled her under his arm and against his body and turned toward the parking lot ... and right into the path of the daggers Carmen's gaze shot her way.
Wyatt must have noticed as well, because he changed direction and steered her toward her Honda rather than his SUV. The maneuver didn't deter Carmen. Arms swinging, the woman charged their way.
"I'm sorry, Wyatt.” Trina peeled away from him. “I can't deal with another confrontation tonight, even if it's for show.” Which she seriously doubted.
"You won't have to.” He cupped her elbow, drawing her close again as they continued on. “Keep walking and ignore her. Joaquin can take care of it. Get your keys ready, and we'll take off."
"And our speedy departure won't alert the police at all,” she sarcastically replied.
"Better a speedy departure than an honest-to-god cat fight. Carmen's beyond edgy. If you were watching tonight—and I know you were—you saw for yourself how much difficulty she has maintaining any form when her emotions are high."
"That won't change if we take off. It'll only compound matters.” She swung in front of him and slammed her palm against his solid chest. His heartbeat pulsed beneath it. “Stay. Placate her. Smooth her ruffled fur, to excuse the poor pun. I'll see you later."
He caught her shoulders as she turned to leave and held her in place. “No."
So much for not asserting his alpha nature. Trina challenged him with a slow lift of her eyebrow.
To her surprise, he smiled. “There's the Trina we all know and love.” He brushed his thumbs over her skin. “Now you're ready to leave alone. I'll be there shortly."
There went her emotions again, tumbling around and around while her pussy creamed her jeans. He tucked his long, thick fingers into the front pocket of her jeans and plucked her car keys free. It felt like he'd burrowed them into her cunt. Nerve endings went on high alert, and her nipples poked against her bra, looking for freedom and his hot mouth.
"Go.” He patted her butt cheek, then followed the action by kneading the flesh so deep, Trina swore she could come.
As much as she wanted answers, she couldn't do this tonight. Her emotions were too out of control and on so many levels, Trina couldn't rein them in.
"This was a mistake, Wyatt. I'll see you tomorrow at the institute.” Which is what she should have done in the first place—confronted him within the safe confines of work.
His gaze narrowed, and Trina braced herself for his responding argument. Instead, he pivoted around to face Carmen. “Enough.” The force behind the word contradicted his gentle tone.
Carmen jerked to a stop. Rebellion made her eyes wide ... no, wild. Trina could see the urge to shift lurking within them, the barely perceptible glow beneath the surface. A mirror image of how Trina looked when—if—she shifted? If Carmen, with all her centuries of life as a shape-shifter, couldn't control her inner jaguar, what hope did Trina have of ever doing so? She was sure she was a shifter, too. Too many things hinted that she was one, things Trina couldn't ignore.
Yes, coming here was a big mistake. She'd come looking for answers and instead antagonized the very people she needed to help her.
She fumbled the key into the lock, yanked the car door open, and sank into the seat. The door slammed, shutting her in relative silence. Trina felt Wyatt watching her. Maybe they all did. The other clan members had melted away, until they became one with the night. Trina hit the steering wheel with her hand. She couldn't deal with it anymore tonight.
She reeked of sweat, sex, blood, grass, and, above all, Wyatt. Her pretty car had been violated just like everyone else's parked there. The stench of a mountain lion marking its territory permeated every crevice and replaced the new car smell she'd enjoyed until now. Huge paw prints covered her windshield and hood, right next to the squirt of urine the mountain lion had left as its calling card. A dent marked the hood where the big cat had pounced. Claw marks had gouged scratches in the paint.
Trina cranked the engine to life and flicked on the windshield washer. The solution and wipers smeared the urine and made the smell worse. Judging from the look of the other vehicles, hers had probably also been sprayed all over.
How can anything have that much pee in it?
She powered down the window as she pulled out of the parking lot. It didn't help the stench. If anything, it was worse. Trina rolled the window back up and saw urine smeared over its surface. Nausea clenched her stomach. What had that paramedic said to Carmen? Something about being stalked? It sure felt that way.
And she wasn't even one of them.
A flash of paranoia made her glance out the rearview mirror to make sure she wasn't being followed. Trina breathed a sigh of relief when she saw no one.
She cranked up the air conditioner and sped home. No self-respecting cop would pull her over tonight. He might stop her for speeding, but he wouldn't keep her long. Not once he got a whiff.
Thirty minutes later, Trina hit the garage door opener and jerked the car to a stop in her driveway. Her garage door yawned open. Lupe peered around the corner of the house, her green eyes bright from the headlights, tail flicking. Then she snarled and backed away. The calico cat shared herself between Trina and Mrs. Wallace next door—and God only knew how many other neighbors. Since the kitty made a beeline for the old woman's house, Lupe obviously thought Mrs. Wallace made better company tonight. Trina didn't blame her. If she could have gone over to Mrs. Wallace's and buried her head under the covers, she would have.
Into the Night [Into the Heart 2] Page 6
