Muzzling the Beast: Taming the Beast, Book 4

by Tina Donahue

  Constance studied him closely, a new emotion passing across her face he couldn’t quite read.

  “Everything all right?” he said.

  “Sure. Are you feeling okay?”

  He had been until she’d asked. Suddenly, Gabe recalled his mounting panic the last time they’d been together, with him forgetting stuff he shouldn’t have. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

  A part of him hoped she knew even as he worried about what she might say.

  Constance waved her hand. “Just wondering. So tell me about you. What have you been doing these last couple of days?”

  There wasn’t a lot he could say, given the cases he was working on, so he lifted his shoulders. “Stuff. You?”

  “The same.”

  Uh-huh. Her work was also confidential, which meant they were at an impasse. Rather than drag this out and worry her even more, Gabe covered her hand with his, leaned close and murmured, “You want to know why I was at your office the other day and asked to see Becca Salt, don’t you?”

  Chapter Four

  Everything went still. The breeze didn’t blow any longer and conversations drifted away. Candlelight gleamed in Gabe’s eyes, making their color even lighter, unearthly.

  He looked so beautiful and dangerous, like a fallen angel.

  Dizzy, Constance gripped the seat of her chair to steady herself. No way could she claim to be Becca again, unless she was willing to remove his memories once more. If she did and left his recollection of her intact, this same scene would repeat itself endlessly, similar to the dumb film Groundhog Day. Gabe would keep remembering stuff he shouldn’t and ask her out to see what was up. She’d go. They’d have a great time—except for moments like these—and it would all lead nowhere, making her more bereft.

  She had to leave but couldn’t move.

  Gabe squeezed her hand gently, as though in comfort or encouragement.

  He was too good, not deserving this. Constance finally moistened her lips so she could speak. “Becca’s the greatest.”

  “I’m sure she is.”

  Huh? Having expected an argument or an accusation, Constance searched his face to see if he was playing her. Maybe she’d been reading him wrong and he wasn’t as nice as she’d thought.

  He regarded her with so much tenderness and honesty, it urged her to fess up, tell him everything, beg him to understand.

  Whoa. What are you thinking?

  She didn’t want to plead with any guy to accept her or her friends as they were when there wasn’t anything wrong with them. Having superhuman powers and living forever—in the case of demons, fairies, and witches—simply made them unique.

  Something a mortal would never understand, not even one as nice as Gabe appeared to be. Squaring her shoulders, Constance prepared for the fight of her life. “I mean it, Becca’s a good person.”

  Gabe smiled. “Exactly what the receptionist said about you.”

  So he’d remembered those moments. “Her name’s Heather. You’ll never meet anyone sweeter.”

  “Seemed overly shy to me.”

  “You scared her.”

  “How?” Gabe glanced down as if taking himself in before focusing on her again. “Am I so awful?”

  He looked good enough to eat, his stubble totally lickable, lips and mouth drool-worthy. Constance wasn’t about to consider the rest of him. Without clothes, he’d be a freaking god, his cock meaty, balls pendulous. She held back a shiver of desire. “You know you’re not.”

  He offered a pleased smile. “Then why did you lie about being Becca?”

  “I wanted you for myself.” The words were out of her mouth before Constance could stop them, and no way could she take them back since they were the damn truth.

  Surprise registered on Gabe’s face, followed by delight and then what seemed to be doubt. “Would she have made a play for me…does she usually for men she doesn’t know?”

  Constance debated her answer, figuring anything she said would only dig her deeper. Too bad she couldn’t stay silent. “Not as a rule. You’re special.”

  Now he seemed skeptical, even though she’d spoken the truth. “Why didn’t you simply offer to answer my questions yourself—by the way, what is it you do at the service?”

  She smiled. “I’m Becca’s assistant.”

  “For real?”

  For this conversation. She pretended he’d insulted her. “You don’t think I’m capable?”

  Gabe stroked her thumb. “Baby, I think you could do whatever you wanted and far, far more.”

  Her belly fluttered at his endearment, his touch, and the flare of lust she saw in his eyes. “Thanks. I’m about to celebrate my fifth anniversary there.”

  “Congratulations.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm.

  It took all of Constance’s will not to moan in pure pleasure at his silky lips and the scrape of his whiskers against her hand. Behaving herself, she curled her fingers, touching his cheek.

  Gabe rested his chin in her palm as he spoke. “So you really wanted me?”

  Absolutely, and even more so now. “Uh-huh.”

  “Why did Becca go along with your lie, pretending to be Lorraine?”

  Crap, Constance had forgotten about their dumb performance. Thinking fast, she found a reasonable lie. “We get a lot of salespeople dropping by unannounced. Talk about obnoxious and pushy. If we let them, they’d never give Becca a moment’s peace. I run interference for her. She goes along with it.” Constance squared her shoulders again. “It’s no crime.”

  “Nope. It’s not. But you knew I wasn’t a salesman.”

  She wasn’t going to win this interrogation, was she? Even so, Constance decided to go down fighting. “Your badge could have been a fake. You could have been too. We’ve had people say they’re all kinds of things to get her attention.”

  “She’s really important, huh?”

  “She’s a great person.”

  “I’m sure you’d know.” Gabe kissed her palm, lowered her hand to the table, and covered it with his own, caressing or imprisoning her.

  Constance didn’t want to consider the latter but couldn’t avoid it. She had to know the damage he could cause the place and find some way to avoid or minimize it without hurting him in the process. “Why did you want to talk to Becca? We pay our bills,” she added hurriedly. “We’re not in trouble with the IRS, city, state, FBI, CIA, or any other alphabet group.” She frowned. “So why are you harassing us?”

  “Harassing?” Gabe removed his hand and leaned back, his gesture taking in their surroundings. “Wait till I tell the guys how I browbeat you here. They’ll be so impressed, the next time they need to grill their perps, they’ll be sure to make reservations first.”

  Constance laughed.

  Gabe folded his arms over the table and eased close once more. “We friends again?”

  If he kept making her smile and turning her on, no telling what they might end up being. Constance wanted to consider the best of it—them actually dating, falling for each other, having so much trust they could share their deepest secrets, including how she’d removed his memories and would continue to do so if it threatened Becca or the others.

  Yeah, right, her and Gabe’s love story was definitely going to happen.

  Sighing, she touched his arm. “I didn’t mean to be critical. Forgive me.”

  “Sure.” He grinned. “Now ask for something hard.”

  Constance wasn’t crazy enough to suggest he drop his investigation. “You never answered me about why you came to the service. Why did you? What’s this about?”

  “I didn’t tell you the other day when you brought me into your office?”

  “It was Becca’s. And, no, you didn’t.” Her face got hot. “We simply kissed.”

  “I don’t remember it being simple at all.” Returni
ng her smile, he traced her fingers with his, making the back of her throat tingle. “To be honest, I’m reluctant to say what brought me there.”

  Oh God, it was that bad? He knew everything? How? More importantly, why would they be here if he had the awful truth? “You expect me to confess?”

  “What? No.” He frowned, looking like a cop suddenly, hard and suspicious. “What would you have to confess to?”

  “I don’t know. You’re being so mysterious, I’m not sure what we did wrong. Are you going to make me guess?”

  “Of course not. Calm down, please.” He turned to the other tables, no doubt checking to see if anyone had noticed her outburst. As far as Constance could see, everyone was still stuffing their faces and drinking up a storm.

  “Do you or any of your colleagues know Father Archambault?” he asked softly.

  A priest? He couldn’t be serious. It would be like an evangelical having devil worshippers as BFFs. “I’ve never heard the name. Why?”

  “He’s a friend of my parents. Came to see me a couple of weeks ago and asked if I’d look into your service for him. Not as an official investigation, but on my own time.”

  Not understanding, she made a face. “He asked you to check us out because he wants a makeover so he can date a—ah, so he can score with the babes? I thought the church had a celibacy rule. Has it changed?”

  “No.” Gabe’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. “He wasn’t asking for himself. He said he’d heard things.”

  Constance’s blood turned to ice again. She suppressed a shiver. “What exactly?”

  Suddenly, Gabe appeared unwilling to say. “More wine?”

  She’d barely touched hers. “What did he hear? Please, tell me. I have a right to know. So do the others at the service.”

  “It’s still hard to say.” When she didn’t encourage him, Gabe huffed out a sigh. “He thinks you’re performing animal sacrifices there for some kind of black-magic thing.”

  Constance barked a laugh. This time several patrons turned to stare at her. Hell, she didn’t care. This was about black magic? Mortal junk no supernatural would deign to consider? How ludicrous. She giggled. “I can assure you, we don’t do anything with animals there. We’re not zoned for it.”

  Gabe didn’t share her levity. “He said he heard the animals howling and hissing.”

  Uh-oh. How would he have known the sounds the weres and vamps made unless he’d heard them firsthand? Goose bumps broke out on Constance’s arms despite the oppressive heat. Even so, she played it cool. “Is he mental?”

  “The most rational person I’ve ever met. He’s all for women’s rights, even for ordaining them as priests. Believes anyone who harms a child should do time, no excuses. He’s not into magical thinking and doesn’t have much patience for those who do, like members of cults who hurt animals in order to raise Satan from the depths of Hell.”

  Like that would get Satan off his sorry butt when the old fart had other things to do, namely stuff to please himself. “So Father Archambault is lucid. Is he also telepathic? Groans and moans zipped from our place to his head?”

  “He said hisses and growls, and, no, they didn’t transmit like radio signals. He was in your office.”

  The world dipped and swayed so quickly, Constance had to press into her chair to keep from reeling. When in the hell was he inside? Why hadn’t anyone noticed? “He made an appointment with us and thought he heard—”

  “He had an appointment at an office in the next building, a nonprofit group for the homeless. He went in your place by mistake. Heard some strange shit—ah, stuff, and took off and came to me.”

  Shit, shit, shit. They should have been locking the front door no matter what Becca said. This had been a fuckup just waiting to happen. Collecting herself, Constance regarded Gabe, searching for a way to deal with this.

  After a long moment, he finally lifted his shoulders. “What?”

  Thankfully, she had an answer. “Do I honestly strike you as the type of woman who would harm any animal? We’re not talking spiders or roaches, they’re insects. Do you truly believe I’d hurt a bird or mammal in an absolutely ridiculous ceremony to call up a being that doesn’t even exist?”

  “No. Would Becca?”

  Constance lost her smile. “Absolutely not. She’s a wonderful person. Everyone who works there is.”

  “Then where is the hissing and howling coming from?”

  Right, there was that. “It must have come in from the outside.”

  “How? I heard it in the hall when you and I were walking down it.”

  Bile rose to her throat. Gabe didn’t look much better. He seemed surprised by what he’d said and then thoughtful and finally confused.

  “I remember it now.” He stared at her. “You and I were walking down the hall and I heard those sounds.”

  She tried to look concerned rather than stone-cold afraid. “Seriously? Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “You mean sane rather than nuts?”

  “I meant are you working too hard?” Scooting her chair closer, Constance stroked the side of his head as if to console him, but actually to remove his memories of the sounds. She considered doing the same with those regarding the priest but figured that might backfire later if he brought up the subject again with Gabe.

  His features went slack and then he blinked as if trying to refocus on her. “I’m sorry, what were we talking about?”

  Nothing good. “Father Archambault hearing weird noises when he accidentally came into the office.”

  Gabe glanced to the side and nodded, obviously remembering their conversation, though not the sounds he’d heard. “Father seemed really insistent. He’s not one to overreact to anything. Hell, he served in Iraq and even it didn’t unglue him.”

  “Maybe he was having a bad moment. Happens to all of us.” Constance was having hers right now.

  “He’s not going to be satisfied until I tell him I had a look around.”

  She started to sweat again. “You mean tonight?” Good God, with all the crap Heather had hung in Constance’s office and the claw marks on the treatment room walls, Gabe would certainly freak out.

  “I wouldn’t disturb anyone,” he said. “I just want to put his concerns to rest.”

  “No.” She spoke without thinking and couldn’t back down. “Our clients have a right to their privacy. They’re hurting because of how they look and act. They don’t need a cop lurking around, staring at them.”

  Especially if they morphed from their human forms into whatever else they were.

  “I wouldn’t be intrusive and make them feel bad.” He brought her hand to his cheek and pressed her knuckles against it. “Trust me, I’ve noticed some of the guys who’ve left your place. They really do need help, especially the pale and hairy ones.”

  Wonderful, he’d seen the vamps and weres. Thankfully, they hadn’t changed in front of him. “Now you know why they need us. Not every man’s as lucky as you.”

  His expression changed. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, come on, you never look in a mirror? You don’t see how women drool over you?”

  “I’m waiting for you to do it.”

  Constance arched one eyebrow.

  “Maybe later, huh?” Before she could answer, he continued, “I don’t want to keep pressing this, but if I don’t satisfy Father, he will go to someone else. He’s not the kind of guy to give up.”

  Figures. No way could she remove memories from everyone on every police force. “You can’t simply tell him you checked us out when you didn’t?”

  “I’m not that kind of man.”

  She liked him for it but worried too. “The only time you could come by would be before the clients arrive. None of us will breach their privacy. I’m not sure Becca will even allow this.”

  “Will you ask her?
”

  Constance would rather go on a date with Farron, but she finally nodded.

  Before things got too tense between them, the server arrived with their oysters. Gabe concentrated on the young man, rather than Constance, hoping she hadn’t guessed how he’d lied just now. Not a lot…just enough to get inside the office.

  Gabe honestly didn’t think anything weird was going on like hissing and howling. Good Lord, what was wrong with Father saying—

  His thoughts paused as a memory suddenly nagged, one he couldn’t quite bring up. No different from the other day when this had happened. Damn. It had something to do with the noises Father claimed to have heard. Frowning, Gabe racked his brain, trying to snag it.

  “Sir, is everything all right?”

  He glanced at the server. “Yeah, smells great.” The scent of cayenne, onion, and other spices wafted toward him, the oysters plump and bubbling in their shells, blanketed with a rich sauce of shrimp and mushrooms browned to perfection.

  The young man eased one serving onto a plate for Constance and placed it in front of her. She didn’t bother to look at the appetizer, her attention remaining on Gabe.

  Again, he sensed her concern and it worried him, though not because she thought he was losing his mind. What if she was hiding something, like Becca and the others were engaged in an illegal activity, with Constance trying to protect them?

  Fuck, not that. Please.

  Worried, Gabe decided he’d chat with everyone while he was there. He’d be informal, even friendly, so he didn’t frighten them, particularly Heather. If they were up to something, he’d have a long, hard talk with Constance in order to protect her. As to the others…well, he’d do what he could to keep them from too much shit.

  As the server left, Gabe tried to lighten the mood. “Look good?”

  Constance’s expression went blank as if she wasn’t following.

  He cut a piece of his oyster, slipped his fingers beneath her chin, and brought the food to her lips. “Go on…enjoy.”