by Michele Hauf
“Maybe not.” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his shorts. He looked young and vulnerable and CeCe wanted to console him, but werewolves didn’t console...they toughened. Another wolf might have ridiculed him for his lack of confidence. She couldn’t do that, but she couldn’t play nurse to his feelings, either.
She swallowed the soft words that had formed and turned away.
“Karl will want to know the vampires are here.”
“Vampires? Or vampire? There is a difference.” Russell still sounded sullen, but at least his fight was back.
She walked to the window and looked out. It was still dark. The vampire could be out there right now, watching.
“Does it matter?” she asked.
“Yes. If it’s only one, he’s probably just an opportunist. He saw the blog and came looking for easy money.”
CeCe closed the curtains back over the window. “Coincidence that we’re here too? That it’s the pack treasure the man found?” She couldn’t buy that, and she didn’t think Karl would either.
“Maybe not, maybe he had a vendetta.”
“Hates werewolves?” It wasn’t impossible. Despite the fact that the war between them had been over for sixty years, there was still no love between vampires and werewolves. Her father had taught her of their dangers, shown her how one had tortured and killed her mother.
Russell interrupted her dark reverie. “The point is, if it is just one vampire there’s no reason to call Karl. It will make us look like we’re afraid to make a decision on our own. Like we need his guidance on every little problem.”
What Russell said made sense. One vampire CeCe could handle on her own; she had been trained. Plus, she needed to prove to the pack she could solve problems, be of value; calling Karl and getting his advice would undermine that. They would only hear that she had failed and needed the alpha to bail her out.
“It was only one,” she said, confirming the idea in her mind. Vampires didn’t work together like werewolves. They didn’t have packs to depend on. They were antisocial, even with their own kind, like cats. It made sense that one would be here alone.
“So, we fix this ourselves?” Russell asked. He leaned forward. CeCe could almost feel him pulling the agreement out of her.
“Yes.”
At the younger werewolf’s relieved smile, CeCe smiled too. They could do this. They could find the treasure and if necessary, fight off the vampire to get it.
If she couldn’t, she didn’t deserve the position at Karl’s side.
* * *
An hour after leaving the human fortune hunter’s house, Marc was back. This time armed with steak and sedatives.
Dogs might be sensitive to preternatural beings, like vampires, but they were also loyal and loyalty meant predictability.
They also liked steak.
He pulled a sirloin from his pocket and shoved four sedatives that he’d stolen from a local vet’s office inside. Then he shoved open the man’s bedroom window. As expected, the dog was pacing the floor, nose in the air. When he saw Marc, he snarled.
Before his reaction could build to full attack, Marc flung the steak into the room. Then he waited.
Fifteen minutes later he was back inside. He pulled the bedroom door shut, leaving the animal and man inside, and went to finish his search from earlier.
The male werewolf had come up from the cellar with empty hands. If he had found anything, it hadn’t been much, size-wise anyway. There had to be more.
With that in mind, Marc scoured the underground level.
The area was small and smelled like such spaces in older houses did, a unique mix of cleaning supplies and fresh earth, even though the walls and floors were concrete.
He searched the main room first and found nothing, but he had expected that. If he had found a treasure, he wouldn’t leave it lying out on top of the dryer like the latest load of laundry.
He’d hide it, but where?
Where would a human think others wouldn’t want to go?
His gaze lit on a small space behind the furnace. The area was shoved full of discarded furniture, old framed prints, and other yard sale fodder. As he moved closer, he realized that someone, the werewolf he guessed, had been there before him. Two framed prints had been set to the side and a chair had been pulled out also.
Marc crouched and peered into the open space where the objects had been. Unable to see anything that would qualify as treasure, he reached into the hole and groped around for anything of interest. His hand hit a cold metal loop. He pulled it out.
Handcuffs, but not any handcuffs. These were made of silver.
Marc rolled onto his heels.
Silver was for werewolves, stopping them, controlling them, killing them. Cuffs like this had been used before, in the war.
What would a human be doing with them? After another moment of reflection, Marc shoved the cuffs into his back pocket and searched the space again. Nothing but cobwebs.
If there had been treasure here, the werewolf or someone else had taken it.
Satisfied that he had closed this loop, he left.
Outside he stared at the house. If the treasure wasn’t here, where was it? Or had the whole tale been a lie? Perhaps the drunken human inside had created the story. For what? Free drinks and slaps on the backs?
Glancing around the weedy yard, Marc could have swallowed that idea. Except for one thing...the handcuffs.
The human had gotten them somewhere. And Marc didn’t think it was his local fetish shop, unless that fetish shop had a specialty in werewolf domination.
And there was the even bigger coincidence. The werewolves.
Whatever was going on in Cave Vista was a lot more complicated than what Marc had been led to believe.
Time to get some answers.
Chapter 2
The next night, CeCe stood outside the bar, waiting for Russell. The human, Mike Porter, who’d found the treasure, had been inside for an hour. She’d phoned Russell and left a message on his phone, but he had yet to arrive.
An hour was too long. Porter could be passed out by now, and CeCe needed him coherent if not sober.
Unwilling to wait any longer, she stalked into the dingy bar. The theme was 1970s chic. Unfortunately, based on the torn upholstery and dirt-encrusted walls, CeCe guessed the decor was original. The dirt probably was too.
A bartender stood behind a red upholstered bar. He was wiping it down, but when CeCe entered, he stopped.
In fact, everyone in the place stopped what they were doing.
Trying to ignore their stares, she let her gaze wander over the tables. She spotted her target at the far end of the bar.
“You need directions?” the bartender asked as she walked by.
“No, but a drink would be good.” After ordering a beer, she slid onto the stool next to the treasure finder.
“Told you,” the bartender murmured as he placed a beer bottle down in front of her.
It took her a second to realize he was talking to Porter.
“What did he tell you?” she asked, trying for a tell-me-everything smile.
“That the gold diggers would be after me,” the man rebutted, plopping his beer bottle down and staring at her under the brim of his feed hat. “You a gold digger?”
“Uh.” CeCe blinked.
“Does she look like a gold digger?” A man dressed in slacks and a long-sleeved shirt stepped behind them.
Porter turned to look at him over his shoulder.
“I believe gold diggers spend a bit more time on their...appearances,” the newcomer added.
CeCe sat up straighter at the insult. She was clean and her hair brushed. But Porter seemed to like the other man’s answer. He raised one bushy brow, guffawed and took a sip from
his bottle. “I’m not much on fancy clothes and lipstick myself. That’s how I lost my first wife...damn lipstick telling tales on me.”
He stared at CeCe with new interest.
Not sure how to get the conversation back on track and to get rid of the unwelcome newcomer, she asked, “Are you married now?” She knew he wasn’t. His home had zero signs of a female touch.
“Not at the moment.” He leaned closer. CeCe could smell beer and peanuts on his breath.
She closed her eyes for a second and reminded herself of why she was here. She had, as far as she could see, two choices in getting him to talk: intimidation or making friends. In her opinion the second would be both easier and a lot less complicated. Werewolves might be half animal, but they tried to obey human laws, at least when it came to things like battery and murder.
A hand landed on her thigh. Her eyes flew open. Porter’s hand. In deference to the heat, she’d worn shorts tonight. Now she regretted the decision.
The newcomer was staring at her with amusement in his eyes.
Porter, however, seemed to have forgotten his existence. CeCe had wanted his attention and now she had it. Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the feel of the human’s sweaty fingers touching her bare skin.
He leaned closer and for one horrifying moment CeCe thought he was going to kiss her. She stood up. As soon as her legs straightened, she realized her mistake.
Porter frowned and pulled back. His face closed off.
“Never mind her. There’s plenty more out there, right, Mike?” The newcomer slapped Porter on the back and took her spot at the bar. She was left standing behind them, unsure what to do next.
“Let me buy you a beer to help you forget.”
Within seconds a new round sat in front of the two men. The man grabbed her half-empty beer and handed it to her. “You might want to move on now.” His gaze was intense and knowing.
She realized then who...or what...he was. The vampire. She hadn’t noticed his scent before this. The stench of beer and cigarettes all but blocked out the peppery scent she now realized came from the male.
He smiled. His teeth were smooth and white and even. No fangs.
She frowned.
When she didn’t move, the man stood and motioned Porter to stand too. Together they walked past her to an empty booth.
The human’s steps were even, but jerky, as if he was being operated by some outside force.
Suspicions renewed, she followed them.
“I thought you had things to do.” The vampire tugged at his sleeves, pulling them lower over his wrists.
Her eyes narrowed, and she slid into the booth next to him. “Not at the moment.”
The three sat in silence, CeCe and the vampire sitting side by side, each aware of the other, each daring the other to make a move first. It was obvious to CeCe that the vampire was casting some kind of spell on Porter. She suspected that he’d somehow gotten the man to make the advance on her, thinking that would drive her away. But if he thought a sweaty hand on her thigh would be enough to send her running, he was wrong. She had endured a hell of a lot worse, and to keep the vampire from learning the location of the treasure, she would do so again.
She took a sip of her beer and waited.
The vampire did the same.
She’d never been this close to a vampire before. In fact, she’d never met a vampire before. He wasn’t at all what she’d expected. There was nothing thin or anemic about him. In fact, he radiated strength and power. He was, she hated to admit, magnetic. Her body seemed to lean toward him. Her energy seemed to focus on him. She could barely keep her mind on the task at hand, listening to the mindless prattle of the human Porter.
She adjusted her weight, pulled her leg up under her body and dug her fingernails into her ankle. The pain helped her focus, helped her ignore whatever magical magnetism the vampire was throwing her direction.
But still her body tingled.
Completely unaware of the energy zinging between them, Porter happily sipped his beer and told them everything he knew about fishing, hunting and exploring the area’s many caves in search of Native American relics. The one topic he didn’t mention, however, was the treasure.
Again, CeCe suspected the vampire was involved in the too-obvious omission from the human’s story repertoire.
Finally, frustrated and fed up with her own body’s reactions to the vampire beside her, CeCe could take it no longer. She turned to face him. “I know what you are,” she said.
“What is he?” Porter asked. She shoved a beer across the table toward him.
“It belongs to us.”
The vampire arched one brow.
“What?” Porter started.
Barely suppressing the growl that formed in her throat, CeCe pinned him with a glare.
The human took a quick sip of his beer and looked elsewhere.
“You need to leave,” she murmured. She tried to keep her expression bland. Her face ached with the effort.
The vampire picked up his beer and took a sip. “Mike, would you like to take a walk? Get a bit of fresh air?”
Porter, busy draining his sixth beer, froze. His hand slowly lowered. His eyes blinked. “Yes, I think I would.”
“Good.” The vampire smiled and turned to CeCe. “If you don’t mind.” He raised his brows, indicating that she needed to get out of the booth and his way.
Her first instinct was to refuse, but Porter was already moving. Blocking the vampire would do nothing but allow the human to get away.
Fisting her hands, she stood.
“Mike, do you need to use the facilities?” The vampire’s face and stance were casual, but CeCe could feel power pouring out of him. Her body tingled again. She itched to move closer to him, to be part of whatever enticing spell he was creating.
She gritted her teeth and called on her wolf. The animal crept forward, suspicious. It sniffed and growled. CeCe clung to the creature, used it to tear through whatever net the vampire was casting around her.
The shroud of magic lifted, but the spell of the vampire didn’t totally go away. In fact the power around him seemed more evident, as if he’d been using magic in some way to hide his true strength.
A shiver of awareness danced up CeCe’s spine, tightened her core and made her breasts tingle. And her wolf, traitorous bitch, just stood by watching.
“Yes, the john.”
Then before CeCe could stop him, the human had shuffled into a bathroom, one clearly marked “men.” With a smile, the vampire slid into the room after him.
She muttered a curse and tried the knob. It was locked. She pulled back, prepared to shove her shoulder against the thin wood and force her way in.
“You looking for the women’s?” The bartender stepped out from behind the bar. A line of curious faces turned to watch her. The bartender stepped closer. “You got business to conduct, you need to take it elsewhere.”
Business. She frowned.
The bartender titled his head toward the door Mike and the vampire had disappeared behind. “Mike’s a good customer, but there’s plenty of people who don’t like us serving alcohol, much less...” He gave her a knowing look.
With a start, CeCe realized what he meant. A prostitute. He thought she was a prostitute.
“I am not—” Her instinctive defense was cut off by another patron pushing past her on his way to the bathroom.
He pounded on the door.
“C’mon,” he complained. He pounded again. “Who’s in there?” he asked.
The bartender stepped past her and pressed his ear to the door. “Mike, she’s not coming in. Might as well get your ass out of there.”
Ignoring the stares of the other bar patrons, CeCe crossed her arms over her chest and waited.
“
He’s not answering.” The bartender looked at her as if she might have some explanation...and she did, but no one in this room would want to hear it.
Past caring if her actions seemed odd, she pushed the two men out of her way and slammed her shoulder into the door. The hinges creaked.
“What the hell? I got a key.” The bartender grabbed her by the arm. She shook him off and slammed into the door again.
It flew open. Porter lay sprawled faceup on the floor. His eyes were open and glossy. CeCe’s wolf twitched. Dead, it said.
CeCe leaped over Porter and into the room. The space was tiny, a one-seater with nowhere for the vampire to hide. But then he didn’t need to. Mosquitoes and hot, muggy air flowed through an open window.
With a curse, she grabbed the sill and tried to force her body through the opening.
The bartender grabbed her by the waistband of her shorts. “Not so quick. The sheriff will be wanting to talk to you.”
He jerked her back inside.
* * *
CeCe sat at a sticky table inside the bar waiting for the EMTs and law enforcement to finish whatever they were doing with Porter and release her. She’d been sitting here for thirty minutes, plenty of time for the vampire to have disappeared completely.
She edged her chair out and glanced at the door. The bartender, seeing her movement, walked over. “Don’t be getting any ideas.”
Wishing she had the vampire’s power to control humans or the freedom to show her own skills, she pushed her chair back with one foot and crossed one leg over the other. “Just getting comfortable.”
“Good.”
Choosing to ignore the ignorant human, she pulled her cell from her pocket and checked for missed calls. Zero.
“You expecting a call?” A man dressed in the brown uniform of the sheriff’s department walked up. A strip of plastic pinned to his shirt declared his name as Al Davis and his rank as deputy. He pulled out a chair and straddled it.
He pulled a notepad from his pocket. “Barker says you were with Mike tonight.”
“I was standing in the hall with―” she glanced at the bartender “―Barker the whole time Mr. Porter was in the bathroom.”
