A car door creaked open. He had to set the bag aside and feel his way with his hands. Though some in his pack doubted it, he did not have Jedi powers. The Force had nothing to do with his abilities to see. Focus on environment, concentration, and determination—and a lot of bruises—was his secret power. He sat in the back seat with his bag.
“That’s what this meeting is for,” Eric said as he and Daedalus climbed into the front. They pulled out of the parking lot and left the airport. “We don’t commonly work with law enforcement.” Centuries of bitterness colored that statement. Things tended to go up in flame when they crossed paths too much. “They reached out to me a couple days ago. This could help build trust between our kinds. Maybe open doors for better justice for shifters.”
“So, no pressure,” Blain muttered under his breath.
***
They were late. Typical.
Sonya resisted the urge to check her watch. She’d spent the day helping Sean load cell phone files from the deceased women into various computer programs and she’d skipped another dinner. Now all she wanted was a long, hot shower. “Can we reschedule this meeting for the morning?” She only voiced what everyone else was thinking.
Eric strode into the office at that moment, followed by another tall man.
She frowned. Were all werewolves GQ handsome? The stranger’s broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips; he wore a thin winter jacket and khaki pants. His black hair hung in ragged curls around his ears, giving him a just rolled out of bed quality. Her gaze trailed lower and landed on the white cane in his grasp.
She drew closer to the stranger, elbowing Sean out of the way.
The stranger turned his face toward her and she spotted his eyes, so pale a blue they seemed milky.
“You’re blind,” she blurted.
“You’re observant.” He leaned the cane against her desk and offered his hand. “Blain Smith.”
“Special Agent Camp.” She shook his hand automatically while trying not to choke on the foot in her mouth. Exhaustion was her only excuse for being such a numbskull.
He made the rounds of intros with the others.
A blind wolf? One of the main reasons people chose to undergo the change was for the shifter’s ability to heal. What did Blain’s disability mean? If he’d been blinded by injury, he should have healed. Maybe this was something recent and he hadn’t had time to recuperate.
Whatever it was, he was not what she had expected. Most shifters she met were overbearing and dominating. Handicapped? Nope. Her gaze traveled to the worn handle on his cane. Maybe his blindness was not so recent an injury.
“Before you reveal the specifics of the case, I want Blain’s role clarified.” Eric hovered over the younger shifter, obviously protective.
Sonya respected that. “He’ll be treated as a consultant. Details of the case will be revealed on a need to know basis.”
William had been excited about using shifters ever since Sean had come up with the idea. How had he put it? They were an untapped resource. This one apparently had a super nose.
Eric crossed the room, his gaze lasering on her boss. “He’s not to be used as a weapon. No fighting. Tracking only.”
Fighting? Blain, the blind wolf, could fight. She circled around him and he kept his sightless gaze pinned on her in some uncanny way. The urge to toss a punch and test these skills was almost strong enough to not resist, but the last thing she needed was Eric to kick her ass in front of her coworkers. She had no misconceptions about her skills. She could defend herself but the alpha would definitely win.
“If any harm comes to him, I’ll hold this task force responsible.” Eric turned a deadly glare on the rest of them. “I doubt you need any more bad press about this case.” An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room. Eric visibly relaxed. “I have other obligations tonight and my vampire chauffeur hates to wait. Blain, you remember my number?”
The other shifter tapped his temple. “Memorized.”
Eric left the room and they stared at their new teammate.
Blain cleared his throat. “So where do I start?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, pushing back his winter jacket to reveal the buttons of his shirt straining over his chest, giving Sonya a hint of what was hidden under his clothes.
She yanked her gaze from him and returned to her desk, shuffling through her files for nothing specific. This was William’s pet project; let him deal with the wolf. She was going home for some much needed sleep so she could canvass the crime scene neighborhood for any new info in the morning.
Sean led Blain through the obstacle course of desks to the wall of crime scene photos. “This is what he does to the victims.” He proceeded to gather photos of evidence and handed them to Blain.
Sonya squeezed her eyes shut and counted to three. William still hadn’t said anything to Sean. She opened her eyes. Her boss was on the phone instructing the forensic team.
“If you noticed—”
“Sean.” She hit her desk with the flat of her hand. He was a good agent—really, he was—but they’d been working on little sleep. “He can’t see.” She crossed the room and took Blain by the hand, leading him back to her desk. “Sorry, he’s not trying to be an asshole.”
“Hey…” Sean threw his hands in the air. “My bad.” Then he returned the pictures to their appropriate places.
Blain sat in the chair she had pulled over, yet kept hold of her hand. He ran his thumb over her skin, tracing her knuckles. “You broke this hand a long time ago.”
She jerked free. “How could you tell?” When she had been five, a bully at school had slammed her hand repeatedly in a door. Doctors had wondered if she’d ever gain full use of it again.
She flexed her fingers. Only the pinky didn’t close all the way. She vowed to never let anything like that happen again—to her or anyone else she could defend.
“I can sense the healed fractures with my fingertips.”
Sitting across from him, she hesitated as his gaze seemed to track her movement as if he could see. She leaned forward, hands clasped on her desk. “What else can you do?”
He relaxed visibly, crossing his legs and giving her a sexy, lazy smile. “A gentleman shouldn’t reveal all his secrets.”
A flush of heat scalded her cheeks. “I meant to help us solve this case.”
“I’m not sure.” His smile faded. “No one’s told me anything about the case. So how would I know?”
William hung up the phone. “We’re trying to find a killer. He’s left very little for us to work with. We’ll take whatever info you can add.”
“I have an excellent sense of smell, even for a wolf shifter.”
“Eric already tried that. He said there were too many people at the crime scene for him to find a single scent.”
“For him.” Blain touched his nose. “This is my superpower. Let me have a try.”
William gave Sonya a nod. “Take him to the crime scene.”
“Why me? This was Sean’s idea.” There went her shower and early bedtime. With his super nose, Blain probably could smell her day old body odor. Sexy.
William gave her a look over his glasses. “The guy who just tried to show Blain pictures?”
“Hey…” Sean dropped his head in his hands. “I’m just overtired.”
She shook her head in defeat. They were all tired but she knew how to make her brain work even when exhausted.“It’s dark.” She stopped herself from continuing to shove her foot farther in her mouth and didn’t mention that they wouldn’t see well.
As if reading her mind, Blain grinned. “Doesn’t bother me, Agent Camp.”
Chapter Three
The office smelled of stale coffee and anxiety. It soured Blain’s stomach. Special Agent Camp offered her arm and escorted him from the room. She wore a thick wool coat that scratched his palms. He slid his hand until their fingers entwined.
Her footsteps faltered but she didn’t let go. He didn’t need her guidance. He could have followed the s
cent trail he’d left as he’d entered the building. But what would be the fun in that? Agent Camp had soft skin and she smelled like coconut and beaches. Two of his favorite things. He wasn’t above using his God-given gifts to his advantage.
A few days away from bootcamp and the watchful eye of his taskmaster—would he behave? Unlikely. He had the chance to work with the FBI and the opportunity with a smart, independent female who was doing her best to hide her strong attraction to him. How cool was that? No one said Blain couldn’t enjoy himself, though he was sure Pallas would be thinking it.
She opened the passenger side door of her car. “Do you need help with the seatbelt?” She sounded annoyed. He was getting to her. Good.
He hesitated, daydreaming about those slim fingers close to his lap. What was he doing? “No, I have it.”
Eric had mentioned forming relations with law enforcement, but Blain doubted the alpha meant seducing his temporary partner. Flirting with an agent was akin to sleeping with the enemy. His keeper. That was Agent Camp’s assignment. Keep him, the wild animal, in check. Had she been given the clearance to shoot him if needed? Last he heard, only Homeland Security carried silver bullets.
They drove. He hated cars. The fumes masked the world from his nose and he couldn’t sense the ground or the wind. Even his hearing was dulled by the engine noises. He wanted to open the window and hang his head outside, but he doubted Agent Camp would approve.
He faced her with a smile. “Do you have a first name, Agent Camp?” She carried herself very stiffly around him as if she was calculating her every move. He didn’t want her to feel so guarded. He bet she could laugh if she tried.
“My parents didn’t name me Agent.”
“I bet they thought you were special, though.” He waited, but she didn’t show any sign of amusement. “See what I did there. Special Agent—special.” Still nothing. He cleared his throat and pretended to stare outside.
This would be a longer trip than he’d expected.
“It’s Sonya.”
He refrained from pumping his fist in victory. She smelled too wary, even over the car exhaust—like she was ready to bite him at the wrong word. “That’s pretty.”
She made a disgusted noise.
“What? It is.” It was a good thing for Sonya that he didn’t mind a little biting. His hide was tough.
“Men like to use words like pretty and cute to weaken the women around them.”
He heard her hands tighten around the steering wheel. “Oh, good thing I’m a wolf then.” He still didn’t face her. He didn’t have to as he listened to her heart race. “I have no use for weakness and I like your candor. Shifters can smell lies, so we’re quite honest.” This wasn’t common knowledge, but it wasn’t like a species secret either.
The car slowed. “I didn’t know that. Living lie detectors. Don’t tell William unless you want to be on his payroll forever.”
“It’s not a skill we make public.” People were already threatened by his kind without knowing their secrets weren’t safe around shifters. “What can you tell me about this case?”
He’d never worked with the police or FBI. His experience consisted of what he’d learned on television shows. So far, the agents seemed tightlipped, except for the genius who had tried to show him crime scene photos.
“Nothing yet.” She parked the car and turned off the ignition. “I want you to examine the crime scene with a fresh perspective. No preconceived ideas.”
His hand rested on the door handle but he hesitated before opening the door. “Uh, fair enough. I assume we’re here?”
“Yes.” She exited the vehicle.
He joined her outside. The cold bite of winter air brushed over his skin, making him pull the collar of his jacket closer around his neck. Scents were clearer when the temperature dropped, almost preserved.
A trace of barbecue tinted the air. Odd for this time of year.
Sonya slipped her hand in his without his asking. This pleased him more than it should. His wolf directed him to what sounded like an alley. The scent of garbage and Chinese food mingled with that of barbecue.
Blain released her hand. “I’ve got it from here.”
She hovered. “Are you sure? There’s crime scene tape ahead.”
The streetlights reflected on the tape, giving him some shine to follow and he heard a snap in the wind. “I know.” He wasn’t helpless. “Eric was here yesterday.” The alpha’s scent lingered and Blain traced his steps. “A body was found in this dumpster.” He held his breath and opened the trash container, letting the concentrated stench escape before he inhaled.
Blain cringed. At first, the scent of trash overwhelmed his nose and he fought not to gag in front of fierce Sonya. “Was the body burnt?”
He heardSonya’s heart skip a beat. Question answered. The depth of cruelty people could attain astounded him.
“Yes.” The whispered response held a sharp edge of fury. She held such a tight rein on her emotions, he bet she appeared as cool as a frozen cucumber. If not for his oversensitive senses, he wouldn’t know how deeply this affected her.
Why do this job if it caused her so much anguish?
“Can I touch things?” He didn’t want to contaminate evidence.
See, television shows came in handy.
“It’s been processed, so yes, you can examine at will.” The wind cut through the alley and he heard Sonya pull the hood of her jacket over her head.
“You can wait in the car if you want. This might take some time.” There was no reason for both of them to get frostbite.
She ignored his suggestion, but moved closer to the brick building, out of the wind, and remained to watch him work.
Processing the scents, he blocked the strongest smells, like sweet decay and pungent rot. He concentrated on the traces people had left behind.
Smells were like paint. Everyone left smears of themselves. The skill of tracking came with deciphering what the picture showed.
“The killer used an accelerant.” Even though the body had been moved yesterday, that kind of stench lingered. He could taste it. “Gas.”
“Your skills are amazing but you’re not telling me anything new.”
He leveled a glare in her general direction. “Would you rather I work in silence?”
He heard her grind her teeth.
“No.”
The dumpster couldn’t tell him anymore, so he moved to the other side of the alley, out of Sonya’s view, and undressed.
“What are you doing?” Her voice rose in alarm and he heard her heart drum. She took a step forward as if leaning forward to peek, her shoes scraping the asphalt.
“Changing shape. My wolf form can process the smells faster.”
“What if someone walks by?”
He ignored her anxious pacing at the mouth of the alley. “Then they get an eye full.”
The change came on quick. Pain shot through his limbs as joints snapped and reformed. Fur sprouted through his skin like needles threading through his pores. He clamped his jaw not to scream but a groan still escaped.
Some shifters said they grew accustomed to the pain and ignored it. They were fucking liars. Nobody could ignore that. He panted to catch his breath.
Something blew across the alley.
He jumped to his paws and snarled.
Sonya pressed against the building and gasped. “Blain?” Waves of fear filled his nose.
He didn’t see any better in his wolf form. He used the term “wolf” loosely, because he only resembled one. His shoulders and hips were shaped so he could walk bipedal at will. Presently, he remained on all fours to smell the ground easier. The infection from human-to-shifter hadn’t healed his blindness as he had hoped. His sense of smell, though, was almost a superpower. The smells blazed in his mind like a map.
Sonya. Agents William and Sean. Police officers who smelled of gunpowder. Someone who was diabetic worked on the forensic team.
Blain moved around the scene. Eric was r
ight. There were a lot of scents to process. They tangled together, but he was patient enough to unravel the mess.
Shifter and human scent trails mingled. Blain eliminated Eric’s track and his own, but he could still smell another wolf. He tracked it to the dumpster.
Shit. This could be an epic problem, or as simple as a closet shifter had discovered the body. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to hide their identity. Shifters were easily accused of crimes in this society. One of the people working the case could secretly be a shifter as well.
Blind Wolf Bluff: Shifter Romance (Vanguard Elite Book 3) Page 2
