by Lisa Kessler
My shoulders tightened and my hackles rose. “His name was Gabe.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” She winced as if I slapped her. “I’m sorry.”
I pursed my lips and carefully rolled Gabe onto his back, thankful when I noticed his eyes were already closed. “What could have done this to him?” Lana asked, inspecting his wounds.
“A jaguar.”
Lana paled. “How do you know?”
“He told me before you got over here. That’s why he panicked when he recognized your scent.”
The question hung in the thick silence between us.
“Did I…” A tear rolled down her cheek, and her voice trembled. “I didn’t.” She shook her head, crossing her arms. “I couldn’t have… I was far from here.” She paused and added, “When I woke up this morning I was clean. Blood would’ve been all over me if I did this, right?”
I didn’t think about it before, but she was right. When I picked her up, her clothes were clean. I would have caught the lingering scent of blood. “Yeah. It couldn’t have been you. I would’ve smelled the blood on you.”
“So there’s another jaguar around?” Her eyes scanned the lake.
“Apparently.” I scooped up Gabe’s body, when Lana reached over to stop me.
“Wait a minute. How did he get out here?”
I frowned. “He probably walked.”
“No, we both smelled blood a minute ago. If he’d been here all day, you would’ve caught the scent as soon as we got out here.”
Damn, she was quick. And right on target. I’d caught the scent of cologne, but I never heard footsteps accompanying the smell. No teenaged kids who doused their bodies in Polo. That’s why it had caught my attention earlier when I first jumped on the boulder. Now I knew the cologne was a mask. Someone didn’t want me to catch their scent.
I searched around Gabe’s body for any signs of animal tracks. Nothing. Then I turned back and noticed some tracks in the dust, but they weren’t jaguar prints.
They were tennis shoes. And only one set.
“He didn’t get attacked here.” My hands tightened into fists. “Someone dumped him here.”
“What? How do you know?”
“There are tracks, but no sign of a struggle. The jaguar attacked him as a cat last night, and dumped him at our feet today as a man.”
“But no one knew where we were.”
I met her eyes. “Someone did.”
We wrapped my shirt around Gabe’s torn mid-section to hide his injuries, and I carried him back to the Jeep. I barely broke a sweat. Even when I wasn’t in the physical form of a wolf, I was much stronger than any man.
I laid Gabe’s body across the backseat of the Jeep and fought back another wave of emotion. My twin brother Aren and I had grown up with Gabe and his twin Gareth. Nature of the beast with werewolves—only the males carried the shifter gene, and we were always born in matching sets. Rage burned in my gut. We graduated high school a year apart. I thought we’d have more time. Now I’d be the one to tell Gareth his brother was gone.
Because of me.
Staring out at the water, I collected myself again. Mourning would have to wait. I turned around and found Lana already in the passenger seat. She didn’t seem frightened, or shaken, but rather determined and focused.
Only the gnawing at her lower lip gave her away.
I climbed behind the wheel and forced myself to breathe through my mouth, not wanting to catch the scent of Gabe’s body. The storm of pent-up emotions calmed with Lana nearby. Until now, my relationships remained physical. No emotional ties. My Pack brothers were the only friends and family I needed. But here she was.
Hard to believe how quickly everything could change.
She tapped my leg. “You okay?”
One of my friends lay dead in the backseat of my Jeep. How could I be fucking okay? Hysterical laughter threatened, but I fought to remain calm. “I’ll be fine.”
Taking a deep breath, I kept my eyes focused on the front of the Jeep, and fired up Chaney’s V-8 engine. I jammed the stick shift into gear, but before I let out the clutch, Lana placed her hand over mine. She didn’t say a word. Maybe it meant more that she didn’t speak. She was with me, and her solidarity gave me strength.
Once we were on the highway, safe from prying ears, I looked over at her. “I need to drop you off first.”
“What? Why? Shouldn’t we do something about Gabe first?”
I shook my head, careful to keep Chaney below the speed limit. The last thing I needed was to be pulled over with a mangled body in my backseat.
“You can’t come with me. I have to take Gabe back to my ranch and call the Pack.”
“And?”
My fuse was short. This was tough enough without her questions. I shot a glare in her direction. “And you’re a jaguar, Lana. They’ll think you did this.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it and looked out the window. My simmering frustration fizzled. I reached over and took her hand. “I’m sorry. I know this wasn’t your fault. But it wouldn’t be safe for you.”
She nodded and stared out her window. Silence settled in for the rest of the drive. What could I say? All I could think about was retribution. This went beyond patrolling our territory to keep it safe from jaguars who threatened to expose our kind to the humans. I wanted the bastard that killed Gabe. Revenge wouldn’t bring him back, but I didn’t really give a shit at this point. I needed to do something.
I pulled off the freeway and took the back streets to Lana’s hotel. Other than telling me where she was staying, she remained quiet. I dropped her off at the rear entrance.
“I’ll call your cell later.”
“All right.” She nodded and gave my hand a squeeze before getting out of the Jeep. She turned back, her dark eyes locked on mine. “I’m sorry. About everything.”
“Me too.” I slid the gearshift into first. “Don’t disappear on me.”
Lana ran her hand up her opposite arm like she caught a chill. “My car is still at the diner.”
I watched her walk away in my rearview mirror. That time she didn’t look back.
“Fuck!” I slammed my hand against the steering wheel.
Merging onto the highway, I cranked up the radio and focused on ratcheting up my rage. I was better at being angry than dealing with all the conflicting emotions festering inside me. Easier to be furious at whoever killed Gabe, and angry that my own Pack was a threat to my mate, than to allow myself to shoulder the guilt for not following through on my responsibilities. But where exactly did my loyalties lie, with the Pack who raised me or with an alluring jaguar woman I’d only known for a day?
Stupid.
Chaney’s tires squealed as I cranked the wheel to turn up the steep drive to Whispering Pines Farms, my stable. Since Gabe’s body was in the back of the Jeep, I drove right past my ranch house and down the narrow blacktopped road toward the barn. I’d have to call the rest of the Pack and have them meet me up there. I couldn’t risk driving Gabe’s body around any longer than necessary.
The barn had twenty-four stalls, but right now two at the end of the barn were empty. The walls were stained a dark walnut color, with forest green trim to blend with the pine trees that grew all over the property.
Gabe had helped me build it.
My vision clouded for a moment, and I clenched my jaw, fighting the emotions pummeling me from the inside out. I needed to hold myself together and make some calls. Once the Jeep was parked and covered, I walked down the barn aisle visiting with the horses. The familiar sounds of horseshoes pawing through the wood shavings, noses splashing in the water buckets, and nickering, helped settle me. When I got to the corner stall, a large black shadow made its way to the door.
“Hey, Bruce.” His full name was Calisto’s Dark Knight, but we all called him Bruce Wayne. Bruce for short. He seemed okay with it. I had leased the Morgan stallion for the past five years. I trained him for his out-of-state owner, and aft
er he won the world championship in western pleasure, we’d made arrangements to stand him at stud in my barn. Bruce was probably my closest friend these days. I ran my hand down his thick neck, patting him and admiring his slick coat.
“Did Luke give you a bath today?” The big black stallion shook his head as if he understood what I’d asked. “You’re a good guy, Bruce.”
Where was Luke anyway? He was the youngest Pack member and also my right-hand man at the ranch. I scanned the property, and noticed the feed room door wide open. It was early for feeding the horses, but maybe he’d loaded the grain buckets for later. When I got to the feed room, the lids were off all the grain-filled trashcans, feed buckets were lined up to be filled, but no sign of Luke.
I pulled out my cell phone and caught him at the taco shop.
“Can you call the Pack for me? Have them meet at the barn in an hour.”
“Sure thing, Adam. Everything okay?”
I glanced down the barn aisle at the Jeep. “Just get everyone over here, all right?”
I knew he was curious, but I couldn’t talk about what happened to Gabe over the phone. I jammed my cell back in my pocket. Anxious to keep my mind occupied, I started filling the grain buckets. We lined them up in the same order as the stalls in the barn. Each horse had his own mixture of feed. Some got extra oats for energy, while the younger horses needed more weight and less spunk so they got barley-corn and some bran. Each horse also got a handful of Natural Glo vitamin supplement, and for the show horses we added a dash of linseed oil to help keep their coats soft and smooth.
Carrying the grain buckets down the barn aisle instantly made me the most popular guy in the place. The horses pranced around their stalls, shaking their heads, nickering and stamping at the ground. I fed Bruce first, dumping the grain into his large, black feed bucket. He lowered his head to snatch up a bite, and then stared at me with intelligent eyes while he ground up the goodies. Horses were excellent listeners.
I stepped up to pat his neck.
“We lost Gabe today.” My voice started to waver. I cleared my throat. “I’m going to find out who killed him, Bruce. I won’t stop until I find him.”
I didn’t know how complicated that promise was about to become.
Chapter Five
Lana
Five hours later, Adam still hadn’t called. My stomach growled, reminding me I skipped lunch. Gnawing at a cuticle on my index finger, I stared at my silent cell phone. My rental car was still at the diner, and the guys in the gray jump suits could be anywhere. Maybe I could order room service.
Or I could get a grip and figure out what was going on with me. Who were those guys and what was Nero? Nero couldn’t just be another mental asylum back east. It was something more sinister with gun toting, tattooed, trained teams, and somehow I had been connected since I was a baby. I clenched my fists. I couldn’t just hide out in my room waiting for someone to save me. Besides, I was usually pretty good at saving myself.
Until last night.
I tossed a glare at my phone and headed for the bathroom. Brushing out my hair, I stared into the mirror. Could my parents tell I was different at birth? Adam told me shape-shifting was inherited. They must have been shifters too.
And then there was the tattoo. That lion’s head with an “N” emblazoned on the forehead was forever burned into my mind. When I was old enough, one of my social workers gave me the sweatshirt I’d been found in. It was unmarked, not even a tag in the back of the neck, but it bore the same insignia tattooed on the gunman.
Whoever these guys were, my parents must have been connected.
For most of my life, I’d tried not to think much about them. Through my teen years anger kept me from searching, but as time passed, my anger faded to indifference. Being bitter was a waste of energy.
But if they were shifters like me, why would they get rid of me? They had to know it would be a bad idea to leave me alone with humans.
I snatched up a black rubber band and quickly ponytailed my hair while I tried to keep the emotions at bay. It would be easy to imagine scenarios of a sobbing mother, who had no choice but to leave me. But I steeled myself for reality. Whatever the reasons, they hadn’t wanted me.
I slid my cell phone it into my pocket and grabbed my coat. It was time to find out more about where I came from. With room key in hand, I headed for the elevator. When the doors opened on the ground floor I caught a whiff of the lobby restaurant, and my belly groaned for food. I could eat later. The library might not be open if I ate first.
The concierge helped me with a map, and I headed out toward the downtown library. They’d have more reference materials about child services than I could find on Google anyway. I needed a contact who would be able to dig into my sealed juvenile case file, or better yet, get a copy so I could go through it myself. Maybe I’d get lucky and be able to track down some information on Nero, too.
The cool evening air soothed my skin as I maneuvered through the throngs of people. If I could get to the library before they closed, I could get copies of child welfare laws for San Antonio and maybe track down a licensed PI in Texas all in one trip. The sooner I could find out if they had any record of my birth parents, the closer I’d be to some answers.
In the past when I used private investigators for articles, I found out I worked better with the old-school detectives. Too many of the PIs who advertised on the internet tended to only use the internet for their digging. I could use Google better than most people, so if I was going to pay for help to track down my birth parents, then I wanted someone who had friends and connections in San Antonio Children and Family Services.
That’s where I had been abandoned—Texas—and I spent my childhood floating from foster home to foster home. There were plenty of horror stories out there about being a ward of the state, but I’d never known any other way to live. For me, moving to a new school, new friends, a new house, it was the way my life had always been. The only resentment I felt was toward my parents who gave me to the State of Texas in the first place, but I boxed up that rejection and kept it in a dark corner of my memories. Until now.
The library was a stern brick building in the heart of Reno. The front was lined with glass windows and large glass doors. Although the lights were still on inside, when I tugged on the brass handle, the doors were locked.
“Damn!” Now that I’d finally admitted I needed to start the search for my parents, I didn’t want to wait. When I spun around to leave, I nearly smacked into a tall man with dark eyes, olive-colored skin, and black shoulder-length hair.
“Sorry about that,” I said, veering to my right.
“Not a problem,” he replied, nodding toward the library. “Is it already closed?”
“Looks that way.”
He looked past me to the doors. “Too bad.”
I offered a half-hearted smile and went on my way. I could check with the library tomorrow, though patience was not one of my virtues. Ugh! Maybe I could distract myself with food. My stomach growled, apparently a fan of my new plan.
When I rounded the corner, I caught the scent of something…different. Adam had encouraged me to trust my heightened senses, so I checked back over my shoulder. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. I wiped at my nose, hopefully hiding the fact that I was sniffing the air. There was a definite scent, earthy but clean. It seemed out of place on this busy street in downtown Reno when so many of the people reeked of perfumes, aftershaves, and body odor.
Shaking my head, I walked back toward my hotel. After I got some food in my stomach, I’d call a cab and see about getting back to the diner for my car. By morning I could be back on the road.
A flash of Adam’s green eyes filled my mind with an echo of his words. Don’t disappear on me.
Regret stabbed at my heart, but I forced it down. I was making the right choice. I could get the car, exchange it in case the Nero guys had my plate number, and head for Texas to dig up more on who my shifter parents might be.
A
block from the hotel I caught a whiff of garlic and marinara. My mouth watered, and I wandered into the lobby restaurant.
Halfway through my lasagna, I caught the scent again. A chill ran up my spine. My senses were on full alert, but after glancing around the restaurant, I had no idea why. Nothing seemed out of place. I didn’t recognize anyone. No one was staring at me, or looked angry or upset, and thankfully no men in riot gear.
So why did I feel the undeniable urge to run away?
“How is everything?”
Jumpy isn’t usually one of my character traits. Late maybe, and stubborn often, but nervous and jittery wasn’t me. Still, I almost needed to peel myself off the ceiling. “Oh! Everything’s fine.” I looked up at the waiter as I caught my breath. “Could I get a to-go box and my check?”
“Certainly.” He gave me a curious stare and then vanished toward the kitchen.
Sipping my iced tea, I kept glancing around the restaurant, trying to take notice of every patron’s face. Something about the scent put me on full alert, but nothing I saw with my eyes appeared dangerous.
What good was using my superhuman senses if I couldn’t recognize what I was smelling? Where was Adam when I needed him?
I almost groaned. I couldn’t afford to “need” anyone.
After I paid the bill and boxed what was left of my lasagna, I walked toward my hotel, careful to keep peering back over my shoulder. I still didn’t see anything.
Instead, I walked right into it.
I knew the second we collided. I recognized the scent now. It was coming from a tall dark-haired man who was now smiling down at me.
The man from the library.
I stepped back, ready to run. “Sorry. I should’ve been watching where I was going, but I’m looking for my friend. She’s picking me up.”
He raised a brow with a smirk. His teeth looked sharply white against his tan skin. “I did not see your friend at the library or in the restaurant.”
I frowned. “Are you following me?”
“I could ask you that same question.” His self-confident smile never faltered.
