Electric Storm (A Raven Investigations Novel)

by Brutger, Stacey

She didn’t think he would answer. When he did, she wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

  “Once you accept your duties, you’re pack. Stop trying to find ways to get rid of him. You can’t take him now then reject him later. Neither of you will survive if you don’t decide soon.”

  Without saying anything else, he turned and left. She watched the muscles play across his back, but it was the near silent slap of his bare feet that made him appear vulnerable.

  The image jarred the picture she had of him from a hard-ass to a man just doing his duty. But why would an enforcer care about the life of one rogue? Something didn’t add up.

  She was supposed to visit the morgue, but maybe it was time to dig a bit deeper into what exactly these two men expected from her instead. It was apparent that they weren’t going anywhere. She closed the lid on her computer and tucked it under her arm, trying to avoid thinking about them waiting for her in her bedroom.

  Chapter Eight

  DAY THREE: PREDAWN

  By the time she entered the bedroom, Jackson was ensconced on the couch, his broad back toward her. Taggert lay in the center of her bed. Neither were asleep. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest at their invasion.

  The image of them there made everything all too real.

  She hovered near the desk nestled against the wall by the door. She set the computer down, then hesitated, uncertain what to do next. Nerves hummed under her skin, too tightly strung for her to pretend to be normal.

  “The bed smells like you.”

  The muscles of her shoulders tightened as she straightened her already neat desktop. She worked hard to keep her scent hidden. She hadn’t known her body betrayed her in sleep, but she should’ve. A little spark of curiosity zinged through her at his contentment at such a small thing. “What does it smell like?”

  “The air right after a fresh rain. Ozone. Clean.”

  She turned and saw him gazing at her quizzically. “It upsets you that I can pick up your smell.”

  “It’s not always in my best interest to be noticed.”

  A delicious smile appeared, brightening his eyes in a sexy, confident way that reminded her that he was all man when she desperately needed to see him as the boy she rescued. “You’re good. I’m just better.”

  “Because you’re a wolf?” She tucked her hands behind her back, toying with her fingers to cover her awkwardness.

  He shook his head, a bashful expression on his face. “No, it’s my talent.”

  Raven nodded, wandering closer, drawn as much by the lure of knowledge as by the invitation in his eyes. “I’d think that would be a valuable trait.”

  The smile slowly faded, his eyes dropped to his hands, and he shrugged.

  “Why were you at the auction? Why didn’t they snatch you up?” Raven wished she never spoke when an air of shame rose from him, and he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “Lights out.” Jackson’s voice boomed in the room. She hadn’t forgotten him, that would be impossible, but she’d thought he’d remain silent. She should’ve known better.

  Raven didn’t remove her gaze from Taggert. When he leaned back, the chain around his neck drew her attention. A scowl crossed her face at what that hideous necklace represented. “Why are you still wearing that?” She nodded to the delicate thread of metal, a twisted combination of silver and gold. Something so beautiful shouldn’t be allowed to represent something so horrible as slave status.

  “Once the council agrees to the match, they’ll unlock it.”

  “This Council of Five.”

  “Yes.”

  The area around the neck appeared an angry red and sore to the touch, pissing her off all the more. Shifters wanted to be treated as equals to the rest of the population, but then they go and do something so asinine.

  “Is it allowed to be taken off sooner?” She examined the metal, easing onto the bed when she didn’t see the clasp. Time stretched, and she grew uncomfortably aware of her knee pressed against his hip, his heat temptingly close.

  “They’re unbreakable.” Jackson rolled over and studied her so intently her insides quivered.

  Would he trust her with information about his pack? It surprised her how badly she wanted that trust. When he spoke again, a breath of relief eased out of her lungs.

  “If the slave is not selected and the chain not removed in five years, it kills them.”

  Five years. It was incomprehensible. Raven didn’t meet their gazes, though she could feel theirs alive against her skin. The thought of Taggert dying didn’t sit well with her. “What say you we give it a closer look?” She winked at Taggert to give him a sense of calm she wasn’t feeling.

  He gave a nod.

  She picked up the delicate metal, turning it around, spotting iron underneath the silver and gold lines.

  “The chain is unbreakable.” Jackson stood, but didn’t interfere.

  “I don’t need to break it.” She twisted the metal, drawing closer for a better view when her nose filled with the smell of woods. Wild. Untamed. Tempting her to touch and take. The energy around her core sputtered. The animals stretched as if awakening, urging her to get closer to all that warmth.

  She pulled back, a flush of heat stinging her cheeks. God, what was she thinking? Taggert was under her protection. She coaxed out a current, relieved when the animals seem to roll over and go back to sleep as she locked the cage door holding them back.

  When the men didn’t appear to notice, she released a painful breath. In the time she’d spent in Jackson and Taggert’s company, her animals had reacted more times than they had in the last five months. Their waking frightened her. She couldn’t allow that. Shifting to an animal form would kill her.

  She cleared her throat, uncertain how to broach the subject, uncertain if she really wanted to know the answers. But to help Taggert, she took the plunge.

  “Tell me what you’ve learned about me since you’ve been here.” She had to be more cautious about using her power around them. Before she jumped into the fire so to speak, she needed to learn how much they knew. She had to ensure her secrets remained safe.

  Taggert’s gaze caressed her face. He didn’t hesitate to answer. “You’re not human.”

  She jerked a little at the charge, surprised by the bite of pain. As if he sensed her retreat, he hurried to continue.

  “You’re not a shifter, and you’re not a vampire. You have the strength of a human, but you threw someone across the room without breaking a sweat.” A smile came and went. “You always wear gloves. You tried and nearly succeeded to eliminate your scent, unheard of for anyone, normal or not. You have no last name.”

  “My name is Raven.” Nothing more existed for her except a few vague memories of when she’d been sold to the labs; the records had been destroyed before she ever laid eyes on them. Everyone who’d known about her past had long since been eliminated. He hesitated, and a chill encased her heart. There was more. “And?”

  “You healed me.” His breath brushed her cheek, and she pulled away, uncomfortable at the attention, and cursing the small part of her that relished it. “You called the wolf in me. I felt him.”

  Her brows knitted at the awe in his voice. “Healers and pack leaders can call your wolf. I don’t understand.”

  “Myths.” Jackson broke into the conversation with one word guaranteed to capture her attention.

  Raven shook her head. “But I’ve read the books. I’ve talked to people who told me of the old tales.”

  “Wives tales. Sure, a powerful enough alpha can call the wolf to the surface, but there are no such thing as healers.”

  “That’s not possible.” Shaken at the bald truth Jackson so casually offered, Raven retreated, perched at the edge of the bed, frantically shoring up the walls between them that somehow had thinned when she hadn’t been paying attention.

  “They say every few generations a healer is born, but the last hundred years or so, no one has been found. They’re myths.” Jackson leaned against the wall, a st
illness to him that warned he was watching her closely. Too closely.

  Hunting.

  “But Taggert said he was born with a special gift.”

  Jackson nodded. “Some believe they’re the offspring of those people.”

  “But you can’t have it both ways. They’re either a myth or they’re real.”

  “It’s an old legend. I believe Taggert’s gift is a genetic mutation. An adaptation. He can’t shift, so he’s given an extra sense of smell for protection. It happens to the real old shifters as well sometimes. They adapt to their surroundings, learn a little something extra to help them survive. It’s rare for the young ones.”

  If true, that meant she revealed more of herself than she’d intended. She felt their gazes on her, probing, questioning. The lab had believed those old tales and trained her in accordance to them, demanded the impossible if she wanted to save herself and others the pain of failure. A wild urge to laugh bubbled up in her throat. After everything she’d endured, it had all been a lie.

  Jackson sat at the opposite edge of the bed, Taggert lying between them, a certain gleam in his expression that didn’t bode well for her. “What do you say we play a little game of tit for tat?”

  The smug bastard. She wanted to say screw him, but bit her lip against saying anything she might regret. She met his whiskey brown gaze. “I don’t trust you.”

  “Then we’re even.”

  That stung, too. She stood, pulling away.

  This was a bad idea.

  Taggert sat, and the blanket pooled in his lap. Her retreat faltered, her gaze drifted lower. She couldn’t help admire the image they presented sitting side by side. The normal cynicism in Jackson’s eyes was absent. She couldn’t tell if the men were playing her or not, but she couldn’t deny the shiver that passed through her at seeing them in her bed.

  A ray of light caught the chain, and any fantasy of having more fractured. He was a slave. Property to protect.

  She gazed at Jackson and shook her head. “I’m not ready for that kind of exchange. For all I know, this whole thing could be a trap.”

  “Why would anyone want to trap you?” The low pitch of his voice was soothing, comforting.

  A lie. She felt invaded by them and their damn curiosity. “Like you said, lights out.” She reached for the light.

  “Why bother with the switch?” Jackson rose, his eyes on her in challenge as he sat back down on his makeshift bed. Daring her, teasing her with the knowledge of how much he knew.

  He never once looked away.

  Plunging the room into darkness without so much as a twitch, Raven turned her back on them and went over to her desk. She should just leave. She didn’t understand why she didn’t.

  The bed creaked, and she tensed. Risking a quick glance, she saw Taggert lying on his side, staring at her. “Don’t leave.”

  Jackson’s heavy sigh forestalled any questions she might have posed. Her eyes narrowed. She had to get Taggert by himself. He’d tell her what she wanted to know and maybe she could find a way to pry Jackson’s ass out of her business. She ignored the little niggle of worry that spending more time alone with either of them would only draw them tighter into her life.

  The phone rang, saving her from forming an answer.

  She rose, but Taggert was faster. “Raven Investigation.”

  “One moment, please.” Taggert extended the phone. “Detective Scotts for you.”

  Raven winced and took the phone. Maybe Scotts wouldn’t assume they were sleeping together. “Scotts?”

  He spoke without preamble. “I have another body at the morgue.”

  She hesitated, cringing at the number of dead bodies in the vicinity of the morgue. She’d planned to sneak in later, but only after she had more time to lock her powers down tight.

  She glanced at the men in the dark, their postures way too alert for her liking. She had a choice. More painful conversation or the small probability of accidently raising the dead? “I’m on my way.”

  Even before she hung up the phone, Jackson stood, groping for his pants. Part of her logical brain stuttered at all that flesh on display. She blinked and shook her head, ignoring the way her hand shook at the urge to touch him.

  “You’re staying.” She didn’t need company, especially if the place overwhelmed her, and she needed to detox.

  “You can’t go to the morgue by yourself in the middle of the night.” He slipped socks over his feet, the boots came next.

  “Stupid wolf hearing.” Raven shut down the computer from sleep mode and locked it in the desk. “You’re not trained for these cases or welcomed. You’ll get us both kicked out again.”

  “You’ve tried to convince me that your detective is a reasonable normal. Prove it. He’d understand if I came with you as protection.”

  Protection? Wasn’t that a laugh. Who would protect him from her if she lost control? “Not happening.” She nodded toward Taggert. “You were sent to keep an eye out for him. You’re staying.”

  “Get up.” Jackson slapped the bed, and Taggert immediately complied. “I was also sent to make sure you were a suitable candidate.” His smile was all teeth. “Since you refuse to share the information, I have no choice but monitor you myself.”

  She wondered if she could reach the car ahead of them, then sighed. They were wolves. Her feet would never touch the grass before they caught up with her.

  Moonlight gleamed off Taggert’s backside as he bent over, and heat filled her face. She whirled around, flustered at the knowledge he slept nude. The fact that she’d sat within inches of him and had a conversation only made her cheeks burn more.

  Raven clenched her fists and headed toward the door, running from the enticing images of them in her room and her life. If she had any hope of solving the cases on docket without more bodies piling up, she had to keep a clear head. That meant keeping her distance from them.

  That didn’t explain why the prospect of not seeing them sent her stomach dropping to her knees or caused an ache in her throat that wouldn’t go away.

  She had more to worry about than her personal life. The cases were too important to mess up. This new body could tell her if the same person perpetrated both crimes. Scotts could get her the information, but if she didn’t go, she’d risk missing something important. She was supposed to be the expert. That meant bucking up and doing her job.

  “Ready?”

  Jackson’s voice near her ear made her jump. The power grid in the house leapt at her spurt of fear, eager to give her whatever her body craved. Electricity crackled painfully up her legs. She resisted the lure to take what it offered, only to feel the tentacles burn against her shins in retaliation. The more current she carried, the more dangerous she was to those around her, and she couldn’t risk either of them being near her if she couldn’t keep everything under wraps.

  Taggert opened the door, and moonlight and fresh air from the hallway spilled into the room. Her chest relaxed marginally.

  As she passed, she saw the narrowed look he gave Jackson and realized he was trying to help her. Those chocolate eyes of Taggert’s followed her, but the way he watched her didn’t put her on edge as it normally would. His gaze more of a caress.

  She would’ve said Jackson was oblivious to the exchange, except for the way he shifted to stand between them. What was it that he didn’t want her to know? Something about Taggert or himself? Or something far worse?

  * * *

  They entered the morgue as silently as the ride over. “Hey, Chuck, I’m here to see Detective Scotts.”

  “Observation room three, Miss Raven.” The slightly balding, overweight man gave her a welcoming smile, but eyed the two men trailing her, clearly expecting trouble.

  “Thank you.”

  The vents were on full as they turned the corner, meaning that the body would be a bad one. Scotts straightened away from the wall at their approach, then gestured at the two men at her back. “They stay out here.”

  “Agreed.” Scotts gave
Raven a suspicious look at her easy capitulation, but his normal cocoa complexion seemed pale, his comforting tobacco scent a bit sour. She turned to Jackson and Taggert. “Behave.”

  She swept open the doors and nearly doubled over at the smell. She heard Taggert gag, and even Jackson swore. It was all she could do to force herself further into the room. Breathing through her mouth didn’t help as it made her feel as if something foul crawled over her tongue and died.

  She pulled up the collar of her shirt to cover her nose.

  “Here.” Ross held out a medical mask.

  The chemical smell from the paper material was so overpowering, she almost handed it back. “What did you douse this in? Lye?”

  “My own concoction.” The corners of his eyes crinkled, his smile hidden behind his own mask. “The putrid smell won’t leak through the chemicals. It shouldn’t hurt you.” He crossed the large room to the lit area in the back.

  While following, a chill snaked around her ankles and twisted over her skin. She shivered, turned and saw that the large morgue refrigerator door gapped open. The blackness beyond was so thick, she shivered again but not with cold this time. The three-inch metal was torn and ragged, hanging drunkenly on its hinges.

  “We suspect shifters.”

  Raven jumped, not sensing Ross’s approach.

  “They did this?” Something appeared out of order, but she couldn’t place her finger on what bothered her, the answer scratching at the back of her mind.

  “They have the same motto as soldiers...never leave anyone behind.” He turned and shuffled back toward the lights.

  It was so similar to what Jackson said that she nodded and dismissed the part of her that wanted to explore further. She had two paying cases. She didn’t have time to investigate anything else, especially just out of curiosity.

  “Usually shifters are neater when they come and retrieve their own. Vampires are the tricky bastards, popping up and tearing through whatever stands in their way to freedom.” He picked up a tool and looked at her questioningly. “Coming?”

  Raven shook off the vague unease and turned to finish the job she came to do. Even from the distance, she could see pieces of the body dripped off the table to splotch on the floor. After a few steps, a wave of dizziness staggered her. She blinked a few times to clear her vision and pulled the mask away from her face.