down to see me.”
“Given the choice, I certainly wouldn’t.” Duncan’s dry
comment came from the top of the stairs. “What the hell
do you want now, Betise?”
Neva’s heart leapt in her chest, but she hid her relief
as she looked over her shoulder. Duncan was standing at
the top of the stairs, a towel wrapped around his hips, his
skin gleaming and as wet as hers. The smile that touched
his lips curled her toes, and though the shutters were up
in his eyes, she could feel his amusement. And his anger—
at Betise, not her.
Betise all but glared at him. “I thought you might like
to know about an interesting conversation I overheard at
the Blue Moon.”
Neva shared a glance with Duncan. Has Betise really
been at the Blue Moon? And if so, why there rather than
the dance?
It’ll be easy enough to check, Duncan said. The Blue
Moon has lots of security cameras. I’ll get Rai to check
them.
And here I was thinking the ‘good friend’ you mentioned
was male. I really should have known better. Her mental
tone sounded as catty as her words, but she just couldn’t
help it.
She’s married.
That didn’t stop you in Denver.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to, when his anger
damn near sizzled her mind. His gaze went past her. “What
did you overhear?”
Betise stepped inside. “One person, male, talking on
a cell phone. About René.”
He crossed his arms, his eyes little more than black
slits. “Are you going to spit it all out, or do I have to come
down and shake the rest of it out?”
The suppressed hostility in his voice left Neva in no
doubt he’d do it. The sudden flash of uncertainty she got
from Betise suggested she had no doubt either—and yet
that uncertainty was mixed with an animosity that
matched Duncan’s. What was going on? None of the
emotions she was catching from Betise made any real
sense. On the one hand, there was love and a deep belief
in destiny. On the other, a far-reaching anger. And while
she knew it was more than possible to feel both for the
same person, there seemed to be something else here, as
well. Something that left a bad taste in Neva’s mouth.
“He was talking about going after your brother,” Betise
said coldly. “Tonight, while the dance was on.”
Duncan didn’t react in any noticeable way. Nor did he
move. “Did you see this man?”
“No.”
“Would you recognize his voice if you heard it again?”
Betise hesitated. “Probably.”
“Did he say when or how?”
“No.”
The phone rang shrilly. Neva jumped, then glanced
up at Duncan.
“Answer it,” he said, voice clipped.
She did. “Neva Grant speaking.”
“May I speak to Duncan, please?”
The voice was cultured and rich and reminded her
very much of an older version of Duncan. She glanced up
at him. “For you.”
His gaze went to Betise for a second, then he walked
down the stairs and took the phone from her hands. Neva
rubbed her arms, but it didn’t ease the goose bumps fleeing
across her skin.
Duncan listened to the caller for several seconds, his
expression never changing, then put the phone down. But
his black eyes gleamed with fury as his gaze met hers.
“That was my father. René’s been shot.”
Thirteen
Duncan took a deep breath, trying to control the anger
pounding through his veins. The need to protect the pack
and all its members was a natural instinct to a wolf—and
something he’d failed to do.
Neva placed a hand against his arm, her fingers warm
against his skin. He shook off her touch and spun around,
ignoring the flash of her hurt as he stalked towards Betise.
Though her eyes widened slightly, the smell of her
anticipation and desire spun through the air. He wrapped
his fingers around her neck, resisting the urge to squeeze
tight but holding her still none too gently.
“If I discover you have had anything to do with René
being shot, I’ll kill you.”
Her expression was fear-filled, yet he could taste her
emotions as clearly as he smelled her arousal, and fear
played no part in them.
“This is the thanks I get for coming here to warn you?”
“We both know you’re up to something.”
“I’m up to nothing more than trying to get promises
made to me fulfilled.”
“I never made any promises to you, Betise, and I very
much doubt René did, either.” He thrust her backwards,
sending her sprawling into the soft snow. She landed in
an ungainly heap, flashing bare thighs and a thatch of
golden hair. His gut turned. “Take your lies, and your
much-used flesh elsewhere from now on. We don’t want
you at the mansion anymore.”
He slammed the door shut on the rush of her fury and
turned around. Neva was staring at him, her arms crossed
and her expression a mix of relief and worry.
“That might not have been the wisest move,
particularly if she is somehow involved with the killings.”
“Right now, I don’t particularly care.” He had a
suspicion time was running out, and the killer had just
upped the ante. He took the stairs two at a time and walked
into the bedroom, crossing to the still-open window he’d
climbed through earlier. He closed it, then grabbed his
clothes and began dressing.
Neva stopped in the doorway. “You never mentioned
how René is.”
“That’s because I don’t really know.”
“Then he’s not dead?”
“No.”
“You’re going up there now?”
“Yes.” His voice was slightly clipped, and the growing
tide of her annoyance washed around him. He ignored it
and pulled on his boots. Right now, he didn’t have time to
waste. He had to get back to the mansion to help his father.
“Are you getting dressed, or are you going like that?”
“I thought you’d class this as pack business and not
suitable for outsiders.”
She was no longer an outsider, even though she’d yet
to acknowledge him or her feelings. Even if she never did.
“If Betise is somehow involved in these killings, I’d be a
fool to leave you here alone, especially after I’ve just tossed
her out of the house.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure your sister thought the same thing.” He saw
the glimmer of hurt in her green eyes and took a deep
breath, releasing it slowly. “Just get dressed. I haven’t the
time to argue right now.”
“Fine. Don’t argue. But I’m not going.”
“Listen—”
“No,” she cut in. “You listen. If Betise is up to
something, it’s important we keep an eye on her.”
“If she is in
volved, she’s probably just raised the stakes.
I don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”
She crossed her arms. “You have no say over what I
do or don’t risk. You and I are sharing a moon dance,
nothing more.”
He met her gaze. Saw her uncertainty and her
determination. Realized then that she was still seeing him
as the man he had been rather than the man he now was.
And that was something he could not combat—not with
words, and not in such a short amount of time. “Are you
sure of that?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
“Well, I’m not.”
Her eyes widened a little. “What do you mean?”
“What I said.” He picked his coat up off the floor and
walked towards her. She didn’t back away, but the
uncertainty in her eyes grew. As did the scent of her
arousal.
He stopped so close her peaked nipples brushed his
chest with every breath she took. Heat sparked the air
between them, fierce enough to draw sweat from his skin
and hers. The desire to take her, to bury himself in the
warmth of her willing flesh and let the rest of the world
take care of itself, burned fiercely. But duty and his pack
had to take priority. For now.
“I don’t like the thought of you going after Betise alone.”
“I’ll keep my distance.”
“Make sure you do.” He wrapped an arm around her
small waist and crushed her against him. Kissed her
hungrily, fiercely, claiming her mouth as completely as
he’d claim her body later, when they had more time.
The sound of a car starting forced him to pull away.
“You’d better hurry and get dressed,” he said. “Or she’ll
slip away. Keep in contact with me.”
She nodded and spun away, her hips swaying
enticingly as she walked into the bathroom. He took a
deep breath and forced his feet towards the stairs. Light
swept across the windows as Betise backed her car out of
the driveway. He headed for the back door, ensuring it
was locked before he stepped into the night’s snow-filled
darkness.
Then he shifted shape and ran for the mansion.
***
Neva padded through the white-cloaked darkness,
following the red gleam of taillights. She’d half expected
Betise to head for the mansion despite Duncan’s warning,
but it was clear she was headed home. Which was a little
surprising, especially given the heat of the moon. An addict
did whatever they needed to do to ensure the supply of
their drug, didn’t they? So why wasn’t Betise out hunting
a mate?
She pricked her ears as the sound of another engine
rolled across the night. It came from behind her, but was
headed her way. She leapt off the road and made for the
trees, weaving her way through the trunks as the gleam
of headlights flickered across the night.
Ahead, Betise turned into the driveway of her house
and stopped in front of the garage. Neva paused, her tongue
lolling as she battled to catch her breath. If there was one
thing she was going to do when this was all over, it was
get into shape.
Betise climbed out of her car and glanced back toward
the road. The roar of the engine drew closer, then lights
swept across the strand of trees where Neva hid. She didn’t
move, hoping the shadows and the surrounding pines
would hide her golden coat.
The lights swept past, then a truck pulled into the
driveway and stopped behind Betise’s car. A chill ran
through Neva. A blue truck. Just like the one that had hit
her.
Maybe her accident wasn’t an accident after all.
Iyona climbed out and spoke to her daughter. Though
the night was hushed, Neva was too far away to hear what
they were saying. And she didn’t dare move, just in case
either woman spotted her.
After a fierce, somewhat animated conversation, Betise
and her mother headed inside. Lights shone in the kitchen,
and a few seconds later, gleamed from the windows at the
far end of the house.
Neva retreated through the trees and back onto the
road, following the tire tracks down the driveway so she
didn’t leave any paw prints. When she reached the truck’s
tailgate, she hesitated, flicking her ears forward. There
was a lot of movement inside the house. Hurried
movement. Frowning, she crawled under the truck and
out the other side. There she shifted shape, and in human
form followed the footprints up the stairs.
When she reached the window, she stopped, flattening
her back against the wall before peering carefully in.
Through the gap in the curtains she could see Iyona
throwing things into cardboard boxes. Neva raised her
eyebrows. Were they leaving? And if so, why?
She watched a moment longer, then ducked past the
window and jumped off the veranda. She walked the length
of the house, keeping to the shadows so her footprints
wouldn’t be so noticeable. The house was on a slope, so
by the time she reached the room Betise was in, the window
was higher than her head, and she couldn’t see in. But if
the sound of things being thrown around was anything to
go by, then Betise was either having an almighty temper
tantrum or, like Iyona, she was packing. Neva leaned back
against the wall and waited. After a few minutes, Iyona
appeared, marching toward the truck with a large box.
Neva shifted shape again and hunkered down, the
snow cold against her belly. Iyona dumped the box in the
truck then went back inside. Several more minutes passed,
then Betise came out, backpacks slung over either
shoulder and bags in both hands. The lights went off,
then Iyona reappeared, carrying another box.
“You got everything?” Iyona’s voice was sharp with
anger and perhaps a little contempt.
“Yep. Rang the rangers, too, just to let them know
we’ll be away for a few days.” Betise’s smirk was easy to
see, even from where Neva lay. “They said they’d come by
and check the house for us.”
Iyona snorted. “That’s kindly of them.”
“I thought so.”
Iyona dumped the box in the back of the truck then
paused, glancing toward her daughter. “You sure you want
to do this?”
“They owe you. And he owes me.”
Iyona nodded and climbed into the truck. Betise
followed suit, and the truck was quickly backed out of the
driveway. Neva took a deep breath then bounded across
the snow covered lawn and began following them again.
***
The mansion was ablaze with lights by the time
Duncan got there. There was a ranger stationed at the
main gate, and the guards his father had hired were
manning the other two. Duncan backtracked and slipped
in through one of the tunnels, making his way through
damp and rarely used passageways to the medical rooms.
He shifted shap
e as he neared the entrance and hit
the switch. The door swung silently open, and Duncan
stepped through.
Martin jumped and spun around. “You damn near
frightened the life out of me,” he grumbled, turning back
to the sink to wash his hands. “You’d think those doors
would have the decency to squeak and at least give an old
man some warning.”
“Is René okay?” Duncan left the door open, just in
case he had to make a fast retreat. He couldn’t smell
anyone else close except the doc and his brother, but that
didn’t mean the rangers weren’t nearby. Or even outside
the door.
“He’s lucky. The bullet hit him low in the shoulder
and looked a lot worse than it was. Wouldn’t be surprised
if the killer thought he’d scored a true hit.”
“Does he have to go to the hospital?”
Martin nodded. “I’m not set up to deal with that sort
of surgery anymore. I’ve patched him up the best I can
and stemmed the bleeding, but that’s about all I can do.”
“Can I talk to him?”
“Quickly. We called for an ambulance ten minutes ago,
so it should be here any minute.”
“Where are the rangers?”
“Down in the main ballroom, interviewing folk and
taking samples from pack members.” Martin shook his
head. “The damn fools even insisted on getting a sample
from me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Were they already here when
René was shot?”
Martin nodded. “Lucky, too. With the snow still falling,
they might not have found the footprints and tire tracks
otherwise.”
Both were evidence that could be used in court, but
was the attack on René linked with the attacks on the
women? That’s what they had to discover—and fast, he
suspected.
“You’ll let me know if the rangers come back?”
“The surgery door is locked, and these old bones don’t
move all that fast.”
Duncan smiled and headed into the next room. René
was lying on the bed closest to the wall, stripped to the
waist, and he had a huge swathe of bandages around his
shoulder and left arm.
“I think I should give up the moon dance as a lost
cause this cycle,” René said without opening his eyes.
“At least he or she didn’t shoot your vitals.”
René snorted. “I guess there is that to be thankful
for.”
Arthur, Keri - Beneath a Rising Moon.txt Page 25
