0968348001325302640 brenda huber shadows

by Unknown

  But no one came.

  Then she remembered her phone.

  Cam… Cam would come. Cam would know what to do.

  A lone tear slid down her cheek as she tugged the phone from her pocket. This time, the shaking hands that held the phone, the trembling fingers that speed-dialed Cam’s number did not belong to a petrified woman cowering behind a bed in a locked room. They did not yearn to reach for car keys. She was stronger than that. She was a survivor. And she was reaching out, putting her trust in someone else.

  Putting her trust in Cam.

  Pressing the phone to her ear, she struggled to her feet and wobbled to the pine. She would not leave this man—dead or not—to lie 233

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  alone…abandoned…while she ran for safety. She didn’t know him, didn’t even know his name. But she wouldn’t leave him.

  Not the way she left her sister every night in her nightmares.

  ****

  The roar of the truck’s engine was near deafening. The steering wheel vibrated beneath his sweating palms as he battled the loose gravel. The rear end of the truck whipped around until it vied for the lead with the headlights. Swearing, he yanked the steering wheel, snapping the tires back in line. His truck skidded to an abrupt halt, pelting JJ’s Jeep and her front porch with a shower of sand and tiny pebbles.

  Exploding from the truck in a blur of motion, his heart lodged in his throat, Cam tore across the yard.

  It was a struggle—pure living hell—not to simply tear his uniform off and shift. He had to get to JJ…fast.

  But he didn’t know exactly where she was.

  He wouldn’t let that slight complication matter.

  Human or wolf, he’d find her. His female was in serious distress, he’d heard her terror, loud and clear, in every quivering note in her voice. She’d given him an extremely abbreviated explanation, next to nothing really. Three short, terse sentences.

  She was in the woods somewhere behind her house.

  She’d found a dead body. And then she’d sobbed the one sentence that trumped all else.

  “I need you, Cam.”

  I need you, Cam. Then she’d hung up. Those four words had been the beginning and the end for him.

  Though she hadn’t exactly spoken them in the context in which he’d been hoping for, she had said them. She was in trouble, she needed help, and she’d called him.

  His female needed him.

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  He jerked to a halt a few steps inside the woods and threw his head back, closing his eyes. Dragging in the innumerable scents of the woods, he sifted through them until he found her, the task not nearly as difficult as it usually was when in human form.

  Was this another aspect of imprinting? Strange, his sense of self and of his abilities had never been this powerful, this…overwhelming…before. He could scent her, as easily as if she were standing right next to him. Her fear was palpable, and it was driving him insane.

  Trees whizzed by right and left as his boots kicked up clumps of mud and debris. Branches and leaves slapped at him, biting the naked human skin of his face and arms, making him truly appreciate how well his thick pelt protected him when in wolf form. Still, he didn’t slow. He was getting closer. Her scent was growing stronger…as was the distinctive, metallic scent of blood. Lots of blood.

  Oh, God, please don’t let any of it be hers…

  The scent of pine was pungent. His vision sharpened the closer he got to her, as did his hearing. His muscles and joints began to ache. He was losing control of his emotions. Instinct roared through him. He must protect his mate. Shift.

  Not good.

  He shoved his way through the tacky pines, resisting the changes already taking place inside his body. The physical wash of pain was enormous, damned near crippling. Never before had it been so hard to stop, to keep himself from shifting. Then again, he’d never tried to stop once the process had gone this far.

  Shift.

  His. Female. Needed. Him.

  Shift.

  Bursting into the clearing, he absorbed everything at once. But the only thing that fully 235

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  registered was the woman huddled at the far edge of a clump of brush. In three leaping bounds, he was at her side, scooping her up into his arms.

  “I’m here, JJ. Everything’s going to be all right, I’m here now. I’ll keep you safe.” His canines were lengthening, effecting his speech.

  What in the hell was happening to him? That had never happened before. Animal instinct had a firm grip on him now, making human logic all but inconsequential.

  Guard. Protect. SHIFT!

  He had to stop this. He had to pull back from the edge. If he didn’t get a handle on his emotions, a leash on this pounding need to defend his mate, he’d scare her far worse than anything she’d seen thus far. Seeing her safe and unharmed, touching her went a long way toward easing the primitive creature inside. Unable to help himself, Cam wrapped his arms around her, pressing her hard against him. Burying his nose in her hair, he utilized her scent to force the changes back. One by one, beginning—thankfully—with his canines, the changes receded. By the time she leaned back in his arms, by the time he sealed his lips over hers, he was in control once more.

  For the most part.

  His lips lingered for a brief moment, but all too soon he had to draw away. His emotions were still bubbling too close to the surface to risk that kind of temptation. In his current state, he’d be lucky if he didn’t end up marking her. He couldn’t do that, not until she understood what bearing his mark would mean for them both. And he sure as hell wouldn’t be marking her here. When he claimed JJ as his mate, he didn’t want anything to mar the memory for either of them.

  His perceptive gaze swept the clearing. Nudging 236

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  her face against his neck, cradling her in careful arms, he catalogued details of the murder. The blood, the money, and the severed hands.

  The rosary.

  Why had she had to see this?

  Never before had he needed to protect anyone with such fanatical intensity. Then again, he’d never allowed himself to feel for any of the women he’d been intimate with either. Hell, he’d gone out of his way to make sure he’d never spent more than one night with any of them, specifically to guard against feeling what he was feeling now. The sheer magnitude of his emotions where JJ was concerned was…frightening…to say the least. And he hadn’t physically claimed her yet. Good Lord, how would he survive after he claimed her?

  What would it do to him once he saw his mark upon her skin?

  Shaking himself free of that tangled web of speculation, he dragged his attention back to matters at hand. The physical changes in his body had receded, but his sensory capabilities were still intact, still acute. That hadn’t happened before either. Was he closer to the edge than he’d thought?

  At long intervals, a lethargic droplet of blood slipped from the stumps of the victim’s wrists. This was a fresh kill. If she’d been minutes—hell, even seconds for all he knew—earlier she might have stumbled upon the killer in the act. His arms tightened about her until she squeaked in protest.

  Forcing his arms to relax, he sucked in a sharp breath. But he couldn’t bring himself to let her go, couldn’t stand the thought of not touching her right now. Each tiny breath she puffed against the base of his throat, every flutter of movement was confirmation she was alive.

  Cam didn’t need to lift the victim’s face into the moonlight to identify the corpse. Son of a bitch. His 237

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  job just got a whole hell of a lot more difficult. Mayor Hughes.

  What next?

  Who next?

  Damn the FBI. Damn their pernicious, bureaucratic red tape and their frustrating, useless waiting lists. His citizens were dropping like flies, and he couldn’t justify keeping them out of the loop any longer. So, against his instinct to protect his pack at all cost, he�
�d called them. And he’d been put off. He didn’t have time to wait for profiles and official documentation. He didn’t give a damn that other serial killers were stalking other towns. He didn’t give a rat’s ass about statistics and behavioral analysis. His town, his citizens were under fire… now.

  He needed help now.

  Dipping his head to the side, he squinted at Hughes’ forehead. That garish red scrawl was becoming sickeningly familiar. This time the letters were meticulous. Inimitable. GREED. What did this mean? The last two messages hadn’t exactly taken a degree in criminology to figure out. What nasty little secrets had the mayor been hiding?

  “JJ, did you touch anything, disturb the scene in any way?” Cool professionalism fell by the wayside.

  Helpless fury roiled through his system. “Don’t you have more sense than to go walking in the woods alone at night? Where’s your damned gun? You swore to me you’d stay inside tonight. I swear to God, woman, I need to lock you up just to keep you safe.”

  She tensed in his arms, and shook her head, pushing away from him, but he was having none of it. He palmed her head like a basketball, burying her face against his shirt, tugging her closer. She didn’t need to see anymore of this gore than she already had. She struggled for a moment, then simply 238

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  collapsed against him, all semblance of resistance completely gone.

  Her muffled voice murmured, “I had my gun…I did. I dropped it, over by that big pine I think.” She’d dropped it. Just great. Lot of good it did if she couldn’t hold on to the damn thing. But he stifled the urge to tell her so. She didn’t need that now. Now she needed comfort.

  For the first time in his life, he truly cursed his responsibilities, and he felt the depth of his failure.

  He’d always been proud of his position, deeply satisfied with the knowledge that day in and day out he protected this community and led his pack, keeping them successfully—if covertly—integrated.

  Now his citizens were no longer safe. His pack was at risk.

  If that wasn’t bad enough, the whispers had begun. Twisted, of course. Some so far off the mark it was almost laughable…almost. Twitters at the grocery store. Murmurs at the library. Rumors at the Post Office. Gossip raced through the town like wildfire. Pappy’s, the bowling alley. No place of business was immune from the gossip…no place but for Ginny’s hardware store, the Sheriff’s department…and Maggie’s of course. No one dared slander the word Werewolf around Maggie.

  But the whispers were still there. A monster haunted the woods of Sutter Hollow, some claimed.

  A demonic beast from the days of yore, brutally slaying at random. A mutated, lupine fiend with human characteristics that existed on its victim’s blood…or their immortal soul…depending on who was doing the whispering.

  Bloodthirsty Werewolves.

  Ludicrous.

  Werewolves were protectors by nature. They’d watched over this community for over two hundred years, and for countless decades before that they’d 239

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  guarded the small Winneoten village that once stood near where Cam’s own house was now, rising up as a bulwark between loved ones and their utter destruction at the hands of evil, ruthless enemies.

  Now, his responsibilities chafed. Now, he wanted—needed—to devote his attention to his female. She’d surely been traumatized seeing this.

  Her dilated pupils confirmed she was, most likely, in shock. Instead, he had a crime scene… another crime scene…that needed securing. Another family to notify. Evidence to gather. A killer to find…

  Who the hell was this demented, sadistic executioner?

  Whoever he was, Cam would be damned if he’d let the bastard pin these atrocious murders on his pack. The sooner they caught this killer, the sooner his pack, his community, and his female would be safe. “I have to call this in, honey,” he murmured against her hair. She trembled in his arms, but made not a sound. His hand smoothed up and down her spine, steady and comforting.

  Slipping her arms around his waist, she nodded.

  The warmth of her embrace leveled him out, calmed his erratic heartbeat. Hooking one arm across her back, Cam pulled the phone from his back pocket and began dialing one number after another, barking terse orders. Then he snapped the phone closed and jammed it in his pocket, tucking her gently back inside the shelter of his arms.

  “Tell me what happened, how you ended up out here, how you found…this. Tell me everything, every detail. No…don’t look at…at him. Just start at the beginning.”

  Haltingly, JJ recounted her rash decision to hunt up the lamp from the shed, and how she’d heard the horrific cries from somewhere in the woods. He stiffened, clamping down on the rabid 240

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  temper bubbling just beneath his tranquil surface.

  Even so, he couldn’t contain his reaction for long.

  “Let me get this straight…you heard someone screaming out here in the dark, and you thought…hey, maybe I should go out and have a look around,” he exploded. She pushed back, but he captured her shoulders in an unyielding grip, giving her a sharp, helpless shake. “Did you stop, for one damned second, and consider it might be dangerous?”

  She glared up at him, shoving at his chest with her small fists. “Do you want to hear this or not, Sheriff?”

  Closing his eyes, he struggled to compose himself. Raw emotion seethed, volatile and foreign.

  Twin points of pressure—her small fists—pushed and thumped his chest, but a greater pressure built within him. He couldn’t stop touching her. Cutting off his arm would have been less traumatic.

  Damn it all to hell…maybe he was beginning to understand Ed far better than he’d ever imagined. It was no small wonder Ed had sought oblivion. He had the sinking sensation he would too if JJ refused to let him touch her ever again. Gritting his teeth, Cam jerked her back into his arms, caging her there. She was stiff as a two by four, but she didn’t bother trying to escape him, apparently realizing the effort would be futile.

  At length, she finished recounting her tale. He was more convinced than ever that she’d been moments from stumbling upon the killer. She finished speaking, the last of her explanation snagged in the tension between them, and, with a stifled sob, she sagged against him once more. Chills kissed his spine. She’d heard the actual murder, of that he was certain. His heart stuttered in his chest.

  She’d been so close…

  What was taking everybody so damned long to 241

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  get here? He needed to get her away from here, needed to get her somewhere safe. And that bothered him too. The mere thought that these woods were unsafe was sacrilegious. The woods of Sutter Hollow had always been secure. They’d always been a safe haven for those of his kind, and their mates.

  Evil should fear walking here.

  Somewhere in the distance, the blare of a siren shattered the pale façade of tranquility. The piercing wail died on the murmured rev of a V8 engine.

  Cam’s heightened senses picked up movement and scents that hadn’t been there a moment before, his nose twitched and his ears trained on the swish and crackle of approaching human. Jarvis.

  Jarvis didn’t have a siren…he must have arrived about the same time as Austin.

  “Over here,” he hailed, dropping a fleeting kiss to her hair. Then he used the curve of his knuckle to lift her face to his. “I can take you home in a few minutes…just hold on a little longer, honey.” He couldn’t stand having her out of his sight, not even for a minute, but neither did he want to expose her to this gruesome spectacle any longer than necessary. She was a magnet for trouble, and his heart couldn’t take another shot of fear like this.

  One more phone call like tonight, and Jarvis might as well haul out another body bag for him.

  Thankfully, she was holding herself together. He didn’t know what he’d do if she fell apart on him. As it was, her face was pale and drawn, and dark shadows lined her eyes. Feeling
as though he were tearing out half his heart, he dropped his arms to his sides, releasing her.

  “Cam, I’ll have to make another trip back to the van, I didn’t grab my…” Jarvis pushed passed the shroud of trees and drew to a sudden halt, blinking at them in owlish surprise. “Oh…ah, JJ…I…I didn’t 242

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  realize—”

  “She found the body,” Cam interrupted.

  “Oh,” Jarvis murmured, tugging at his collar.

  Sympathy furrowed his brow. “I’m so sorry, JJ. I hate for you to have to see this…”

  “Thank you, Dr. English…Jarvis,” she amended at his pointed look. Then she fell silent, her gaze drifting to the toes of her hiking boots.

  Clearing his throat, Jarvis shifted the bulky black bag from one hand to the other and moved into the small clearing with professional efficiency. At this time of night, Cam had half expected him to show up sporting pajamas and yawning, at the very least. Instead, Jarvis was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. In fact, by the crisp scent of Irish Spring and the lingering moisture in his hair, Cam felt it safe to assume he’d just hopped straight from the shower.

  Hell, maybe he’d just had a late night session at the gym, for all Cam knew. He’d done that himself often enough when he couldn’t sleep. A few hours on the machines and a nice long shower worked wonders for a mind that refused to rest.

  “Red should be along shortly. I believe he said he needed to gather some things from his trunk.”

  “Red…I told Sandy to call Austin in.”

  “Ah, you’ll have to speak to Red, but I seem to have overheard something about a possible arson over at the abandoned warehouse on the other side of town. Seems they flipped a coin…I’m not sure which won—or lost—whatever the case is in this particular situation.”

  Flipped a coin? What the hell? Heads were gonna roll. The whole damned town was going to hell in a clown car, and Cam couldn’t decide if he was behind the wheel, or if he’d been stuffed somewhere in the trunk.

  The way his luck was holding out, he figured for the trunk.

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  Cam glanced from JJ to Jarvis and back again.