Liam was ready to intervene but Lachlan didn’t appear to need any help. He wrapped his hands around Courtland’s wrists and squeezed until the were’s hands shook. “Back—the—fuck—off, prick.” He thrust Courtland backward with his own fierce growl, almost knocking Dodd’s feet out from under him.
Liam fought a smile and instead nodded in admiration in Lachlan’s direction from behind Courtland’s back. He slapped the wobbling were on his shoulder and muttered down at him, “Listen, man, chill the hell out and just tell me what happened. Stop stirring shit up because you’re pissed. We talked about taking it down a notch, didn’t we?”
Courtland shook him off with an angry thrust, pulling his stool back out and plopping down onto it.
Liam nodded his approval. If there was one thing about Courtland, he took suggestive direction well. Probably because he’d always been his big brother Gannon’s lackey, and on his own, he was struggling to gain respectability as an alpha amongst his very skeptical pack members. “Better. Now tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”
He ran a beefy hand over his stubbled jaw and sighed. “Ethan Dempsey is dead. You know, that guy who checks your eyes? They found Freya’s coat and scarf at the crime scene, the same one she was wearing the other night at mate call. It’s pretty cut and dried.”
Liam nodded his understanding, pretending to be shocked. “Who the hell found Ethan?”
“A group of us did while we were out doing what we do in the woods.”
Which meant, screwing club groupies and drinking. This was a suspicious bit of information he needed to investigate deeper. If Courtland and his crew were the ones who found Ethan, he had to question the validity of that find. But it still went back to motive. What motive would Courtland have for killing Ethan? None. None that he was aware of, anyway, and certainly no more than Freya.
He decided to push a little further. “How do you know it was Freya’s jacket and scarf?” It was feeble, but any shot at all he had to direct Courtland and his thoughts down a different path and away from Freya, he was going to take it.
Courtland’s mouth pursed in disgust at the mere idea Liam would question him. “Are you fucking Sherlock Holmes? Her name’s embroidered on the scarf, and I found a bank deposit slip in the pocket of her jacket, okay, asshole? She did it. End of.”
“So she’s not just a killer, but a shitty one who actually left you the evidence that led to her? Good mate pick, buddy.”
Courtland’s round face scrunched up and turned red. “Shut the fuck up, Bloodsucker. Picking her made sense at the time.”
Ah, a burning question he’d harbored since Courtland had called Freya out. “Sense? What part of picking a broad who knows jack shit about you and hides in her house all the time making quilts makes sense as a mate? You don’t even know her.”
“Respectability,” Courtland hissed back, pushing his long strands of hair from his forehead.
Liam frowned at him. He didn’t even know Courtland could pronounce such a big word. “Say again?”
“She was a lawyer, moron. It’s the same reason Gannon picked that twat Claire. Because the two of them are respected here in town. He said so, and it was a good plan until she went and screwed it all up.”
Clearly, Courtland had hatched some kind of plan, and he was furious he’d been cuckolded. Liam was astounded. Courtland Dodd craved decency, acceptance by his pack members? He wasn’t buying it. “And suddenly you want people to respect you? Since when?”
“Since that’s how you get people to fucking pay attention to you. Those two are good with words and shit.”
And shit. “So strong-arming everyone in your pack like you’ve always done is so last year now? You want to learn to use your words? Is this a newly enlightened, sensitive Courtland I’m witnessing? Because knocking Lachlan around for telling you to stop trashing his place is a slow start.”
“Blow me, asshole,” Courtland sneered. “You wouldn’t get the point of it all. Everyone respects you, looks up to you. Or they did ’til you got your sorry ass booted from your club. Doesn’t matter now. Bitch killed Ethan Dempsey. She has to go. If we can ever find her.”
A surge of raw fury sizzled along his spine, but he tamped it down. “She’s gone?”
Courtland bobbed his head with a snarl. “Yep. Haven’t seen her since the afternoon after mate call, when I went to work out stupid wedding shit. She wouldn’t even let me in the damn door. Said she had a cold, but I’d bet you a six-pack she was covering some shit up. Which just proves she’s guilty, and when I get my hands on her, I’m going to personally wring her fucking neck for making me look like a fool in front of the entire town.”
Not ask her what happened. Not see if she’s okay. Just wring her neck. Jesus, Liam wanted nothing more than to kill this smarmy son of a bitch. Rather than reveal his dark wishes, he asked, “Without a trial first? I thought that was a mandatory pack law?”
“What’re you, a fucking expert on pack laws now, too?”
“If you’ll recall, you told me to learn them. So I did.” Every last one of those bitches, until his eyes rolled back in his head and he thanked the universe he wasn’t a damn werewolf.
Courtland waved his hand to dismiss Liam’s statement. “Whatever. Nobody has to know if she ends up dead before a trial. She humiliated the shit out of me. For that, she has to die.”
Or I rip your throat out first. No one has to know. “Got it. So have you looked for her? Any leads?”
“We went to her house last night and that cunt traitor Claire was there. Said she was looking for her, too. If she’s in the middle of this mess and covering for Freya, fuck your clan laws and Irish. I’ll string her snooty ass up for hiding Freya from me.”
Liam gripped the edges of the bar, his fingers almost digging grooves into the wood. “So now what?”
“Right now we’re just getting all the evidence together so the council can be alerted if we need them to step in. But you know the council. If they don’t have to get their hands dirty…that’s why they have me. We’re all pretty sure she did it anyway.”
“Pretty sure? Jesus, Courtland. I don’t want to be a repetitive ass here, but you have to be more than pretty sure before you accuse someone of murder. Have you thought about motive? Why someone like Freya would kill a decent guy like Dempsey? It doesn’t make any sense.” Slow your roll, buddy. Don’t sound too emotionally involved.
Courtland’s nostrils flared. “I don’t need any of those things. If I say she dies, she dies. Are you gonna be all righteous about this shit? Because you can take your happy ass right on outta my pack. I make the decisions. Not you, Bloodsucker.”
Courtland was big on reminding everyone who was boss. He loved to throw his weight around in grand gestures of testosterone. It took everything Liam had in him to back off, but he sensed he’d better do it quick before he blew this to high heaven.
Liam held up a hand in peace. “Right. You’re in charge.”
Courtland banged the bar top. “Damn right I am!” he yelped, as Pinky slapped him on the back with encouragement.
Liam was about to hightail it out of there before he dug Freya’s grave, but Courtland grabbed him by the collar of his trench coat. “Sit, vampire. Tell me what you found out in the Zone.”
Nothing. Jack shit. But the moment he began to hedge a reply, they were interrupted by Petra Morrow, her hips swinging in that way she had of letting every man within spitting distance know she was all woman.
Liam had never liked her. Couldn’t put his finger on it, but she had an agenda. He just didn’t know what that agenda was.
Pushing her way in between the two men, she turned to Courtland, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I need to speak with you as a pack member, Courtland.”
Her perfume wafted to Liam’s nose, too fruity or flowery or something, but he smelled something else on her, too. She was nervous. It wasn’t just in her scent, but in her voice, the slight waver of her words.
Courtla
nd leaned back and appreciated the view she offered, his eyes landing right on her snug-fitting sweater. “So speak.”
Petra licked her cherry-glossed lips nervously. “Maybe we could do it in private?”
But Courtland shook his head. “Whatever you gotta say, you can say right here in front of my crew. We ain’t got secrets.”
She cleared her throat and ran a hand over her slim skirt, smoothing it before taking a step back. “But it’s about Freya Ashe.”
Liam clenched his teeth, forcing himself to remain calm and silent. Above all, he needed to shut his mouth.
Courtland perked up at that, his eyes gleaming with devilish delight. “Do you know where she is?”
Petra shook her head and gripped the strap of the purse she had hanging over her shoulder. “No. But it’s about Ethan Dempsey and something she said the night he was murdered.”
Ripples of awareness raced along Liam’s spine as Courtland made a face at him as if to say, “See?”
Courtland dropped a thick hand on Petra’s shoulder. “Go ahead and tell me then.”
Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her arms as though she were chilled. “I heard Freya say she’d rather be a bloodsucker than mate with you.”
Aw, hell. Of course she’d said something like that—because the woman Liam found himself bound to for life wasn’t very good at keeping her treacherous thoughts to herself.
Shit.
Courtland’s face turned a fine shade of crimson, but he motioned for her to proceed. “So?”
“She said it in front of her best friend, Claire McConnell—and Ethan Dempsey. I distinctly remember hearing Claire tell her to hush before someone heard her. It bothered me for a long while after she left the bar, and I wasn’t even sure I should come to you with this. I think she’s lucky you picked her. But the more I thought about it, the more it made me wonder if she was so afraid Ethan would tell you, that she might…” she shrugged her shoulders, letting her lower lip tremble ever so slightly in that way she did in order to appear fragile, “kill him to keep him quiet.”
Courtland’s fists tightened, just as Liam’s gut did. Shit. Shit. Shit.
The were cleared his throat. “Thanks for telling me, Petra. It’s just another nail in the bitch’s coffin.”
Petra placed a hand on Courtland’s arm and smiled tenderly, warmly, and then she dropped her final bomb. “But there’s more.”
Courtland’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t remove Petra’s hand. “More?”
She nodded, the silk curtain of her hair falling over her profile. “I saw Freya leave here with Liam that night. On the back of his bike.” And then she looked at Liam, all innocence and purity, her eyes wide with feigned terror, her lower lip still working a tremble of vulnerability.
Well, fuck.
* * * *
Freya flipped the channels of Liam’s flat screen and tried to find a comfortable position. It was going on eleven o’clock, and her impatience for Liam to come back from Ahab’s grew by the second.
Clarence raised his head, his ears twitching, alerting her to a crunch of snow outside.
Finally. It was probably Liam. Thank God, too. You wouldn’t think it’d be such a bad thing, having to sit on the couch and surf eight hundred channels worth of viewing pleasure, but she was bored out of her mind, with the inability to explore Liam’s lair.
She cupped Clarence’s muzzle and smiled, dropping a kiss on it. “You like Liam, don’t you? I’d call you traitorous, but even I have to admit, you two are cute together.”
The shack’s door burst open, a gust of wind flinging it against the wall.
“You can just open the door, you know—and it’s about damn time. Did you miss your BFF? A lot of catching up to do?” She turned around to greet Liam, a smile on her face.
But her smile faded rapidly as prickles of fear rose in spiky threads along her spine. “Who the hell are you?”
The man who entered was lanky, reed thin and gaunt. He wore his long hair in a messy manbun at the back of his head, but it was his eyes that stole her focus. They beamed at her, red and sinister.
She sniffed the air, but that brought with it nothing but more confusion. What the hell was he?
Gripping Clarence’s collar to keep him from leaving the couch, she asked again, forcing her voice to remain steady. “Who are you?”
A pair of full pink lips spread into a grin—a grin wreathed in blackness and desolation. “I might ask the same of you, chicky-chick.” He pointed with a knobby finger to the ring of garlic and crosses surrounding the couch. “But you’re in quite a pickle here, aren’t you?”
Freya narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. Yeah. There was that. There’d been a time when all it took was her tone of voice to scare off an opponent in negotiations over a legal table. She’d damn well better find that voice again, because instinct told her this man wasn’t a good one.
Their eyes locked, his amused, hers narrowed in haughty disdain. “I said, who are you?” she demanded, her voice clear and strong.
He used that long finger to trail along the back of the couch until he walked it up over her arm in playful fashion and grinned directly down at her. Obviously he wasn’t vampire. The garlic and crosses didn’t affect him at all.
He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and whispered, “What an exquisite kind of pleasure to meet someone as scrumptious as you. All beach-blonde waves of thick hair and skin that looks like it’s been kissed by Jesus himself.”
He smacked his lips and mocked a shiver. “Delectable! So anyway, hello, Sunshine. I’m Angus Sweeten…”
~ Part 4: The Ultimatum ~
~ ~ ~
Chapter 12
“The hell you did.” Liam responded to Petra’s accusation with calculated calm. Because Jesus knew it was all he had right now.
Courtland’s beady eyes narrowed, scrunching so far into his face they almost disappeared when he gazed at Petra, but he remained silent.
Petra bristled, pushing a long strand of her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Are you calling me a liar, Liam?”
Be one with the bullshit, McConnell.
Liam puffed his chest out, crowding Petra until her spine bent backward over the bar and she was forced to arch her long neck in order to look up at him. He ramped the intimidation factor up by staring down at her, daring her to speak.
The pulse under her creamy skin, the only sign she was even a little afraid, beat a rhythmic dance, but she kept her lips clamped tight. “Damn right I am, lady. Quit trying to stir shit up so you can worm your way into the pack’s favor. Courtland picked Freya. Not you. Get over it.”
But Petra’s eyes flashed brilliant colors, representing her anger in its many shades. It went far deeper than he’d ever noticed before. “That’s not what this is about, Liam! I celebrated Courtland’s choice just like everyone else. This is about you and Freya. I know what I saw, and I saw you and Freya leave Ahab’s the other night—together!”
And now he had to go in for the kill. He didn’t want to humiliate Petra in front of everyone in Ahab’s. It wasn’t in his nature to be intentionally cruel, but she had some kind of angle he didn’t quite get.
As much as a mate between Freya and Courtland made no sense, that assessment was equally accurate where Petra was concerned. Why would a woman as pretty and as smart as Petra Morrow want to keep Courtland Dodd single and looking to mingle?
But it was there. He smelled it—her need, her raw hunger. She wanted Courtland. She hid it behind her big eyes and innocent glances, but beneath the surface, Petra was on the prowl.
Leaning in farther, Liam flashed his fangs at her, letting his words slide from his throat with slow precision. “Right. Just like you heard Freya say she’d rather be a bloodsucker. Man, you’d damn well do anything to be alpha female, wouldn’t you? But just so you know, I wouldn’t touch a bitch werewolf with a pair of sterile gloves and a Hazmat suit, let alone allow one to ride on the back of my hog. You’re not my
type. You smell like wet dog and your breath is always laced with the blood of some forest animal. You saw wrong.”
Petra’s outraged gasp rang out in the bar. But she blanched right afterward when Courtland chuckled and slapped Liam on the back with a loud clap of palm to leather. “Bitch probably had too much to drink and was seein’ things,” he chortled in that gurgling way he had.
Crisis averted.
Liam let his eyes slide back over Petra in a long scan from head to toe before he stepped away and threw an arm around Courtland’s shoulder and grinned. “Especially werewolf bitches. Broads can damn well drink and they hear things they want to hear.”
Pinky and the rest of Courtland’s cohorts all began to laugh loud, raucous guffaws of amusement, but Petra wasn’t laughing.
She was shooting daggers at Liam with her eyes, her neck and chest area a bright shade of crimson as she backed away from them. “I’ll prove it to you. I know what I heard and what I saw, Liam McConnell, and I saw you with Freya,” she seethed.
Courtland slammed his fist on the bar, making the long line of mugs along the surface wobble. “Get the fuck out of here, Petra. Now, or I’ll see you punished just because I goddamn well can!”
As everyone began laughing and toasting Courtland’s reign as Head Asshole in Charge, Petra stifled a sob and ran for the exit door, leaving Liam feeling like a heel.
But it was the only way to stay in Courtland’s good graces.
And he had to do that.
Had to.
Courtland nudged him in the ribs and cackled. “Can you even believe that bitch, tryin’ to make me believe you’d touch a fucking were without a ten-foot pole? You ain’t like your traitorous bloodsucker of a brother, now are ya?”
Liam looked down at the oblivious were and pounded his chest. “Nope. Like oil and water.”
Courtland grunted. “So what’s Petra’s beef with Freya, ya think? Why the fuck would she want me to fall for something so damn ridiculous?”
Liam shrugged in an effort to appear completely unaware. “Jealousy, maybe. Isn’t that always a woman’s beef? She probably wanted the title of alpha female. Christ knows there’s not much else to look forward to since the laws changed. Those laws have bitches fighting for position in the pack. So from where I’m sittin’, it’s good to be king, huh Courtland?”
Outlaw Alpha Page 11
