“Do you think she knows about him then?”
“No. Not everything. I have a wall up to block my thoughts. If she knew what I knew, chances are she’d freak the hell out. I don’t know what she’d try, but I don’t want her setting Frank off before I can get to them.”
“Be careful, Larson.”
“That’s my plan. Find that video, and find that child. Those are my best chances to clear my name.”
The Escort slowed and made a right turn off the small highway, onto what appeared to be an old dirt road.
“I’ll call you when this over.” Nathan turned off his phone and tossed it into the seat beside him.
Instinct had him slowing, ready to follow the other vehicle. He just barely restrained himself from making the same turn. He couldn’t tip his hand to Frank and give him any indication that he knew he was a murdering sociopath.
Nathan had to make it appear that he was bent on his own escape—that Sage meant absolutely nothing to him. Frank couldn’t realize the truth. That Sage belonged to him. That the quirky little novelist had claimed his heart as thoroughly as the characters in her books no doubt did to each other.
With tension entwining every muscle in his body, he hit the gas and sped right past the small dirt road.
After another fifty feet he turned off the headlights, pulled to the side of the road, and then killed the engine.
After tucking the keys under the front seat, he opened the door, slammed it shut, and then sprinted back toward the small road they’d disappeared down.
He’d shifted into his wolf side before reaching the turn off. Once on the road he quickly spotted the abandoned Escort.
Rage and calm determination eliminated the potential fear for Sage’s safety.
She was alive. For the moment. He would’ve felt her death if Frank had already killed her.
He quieted his mind and stroked his thoughts out to her.
Keep running, Sage. Just stay alive, sweetheart. I’m coming for you. Trust me.
There was no response except mental snapshots of her emotions. Terror. Determination—just as strong as his—to stay alive. But there was exhaustion. Frank was running her ragged.
The viscous snarl reached his ears just as they came into view up ahead.
Nathan was too far behind to stop Frank from leaping onto Sage’s back and sending her sprawling to the ground with a yelp of terror.
It was déjà vu to the day Sage had escaped the house and run from him. But instead of fighting a mountain lion for her life, this time she was fighting her own kind.
Rage at the situation—at himself and at Frank—had him quickening his run to an almost impossible pace, even for a wolf shifter.
The two rolled on the ground, Sage clearly frenzied in her fight to stay alive. A sharp yelp of pain sounded, one he suspected came from Sage.
And then he was in the fray, leaping onto Frank and knocking him off of Sage.
From the corner of his eye, he watched her stumble on all fours out of the danger zone.
Safe. She was safe.
With that knowledge firm in his mind, he turned his focus to killing the son of a bitch who’d tried to hurt her.
Green eyes glared up at him with rage and violence as the two rolled on the dirt ground, each fighting for dominance.
Fur flew. Teeth flashed, even grazed flesh, but neither managed to sink a death bite.
They rolled again, and this time Frank managed to slip away.
Nathan got back on all fours. Instead of lunging back to fight, Frank turned tail and ran back toward the road.
Your ass is about to be meat, wolf, Nathan thought savagely, before he turned to run after Frank.
The smell of blood and the flash of pain in Sage’s head made him freeze.
Turning, he padded back to where she lay curled up in human form under a tree.
He shifted back to human and knelt beside her. Son of a bitch, had she been hurt?
“Sage? Sweetheart, where did he get you?”
She slowly turned her head from where her cheek had been resting on the ground.
Blood gushed from the bite in the artery in her neck.
“Go after him.” Her words were heavy with pain. “Don’t worry about me, he needs to be stopped. He killed them—”
“I know who he is.” He cradled her head in his palm and gently adjusted her neck. “Shit, sweetheart, don’t talk, you’re losing more blood with each word.”
Again there was the feeling of déjà vu, but only this time the rolls were reversed. She was the one about to bleed to death and he, God willing, was going to save her life.
Leaning down he flicked his tongue over the punctures, hoping like the hell the outcome for her was the same as it had been for him.
He couldn’t focus on the fear of losing her. To the what if she didn’t make it. He couldn’t begin to process that possibility. Instead he mentally envisioned the skin puckering and healing, until finally it became a reality.
The blood had stopped, and her breathing evened out.
When he lifted his head he stared down at the healed wounds, and traced his fingers over the pinked scars that would soon heal.
“You saved me,” she whispered.
“Yeah.” He traced his fingers up over her jaw to the softness of her cheek. “Guess we’re even now, Curls.”
“Guess so.” Her gaze met his. “I’m so sorry I left you. That I ever doubted you, even for a minute. I don’t know how it happened so fast, but I love you, Nate. Like the kind of love I write about, and I didn’t even believe that could happ—”
He kissed her. Closed his mouth over hers and savored the rest of his mate’s words with his tongue. She kissed him back fervently, gripping his shoulders and meeting his passionate strokes with her own.
When he lifted his head, he stared down at her. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted.
He pressed another light kiss to her mouth. “I love you too, Sage.”
“I know.” She pressed her lips together and gave a small shrug. “Or you never would’ve let him get away.”
“We’ll get him. You know we will.”
“We will.” She nodded. “Thank you.”
“Look at me.”
Her lashes fluttered up and he stared down into her watery blue eyes.
“I love you,” he repeated again. “My innocence means nothing if you’re not in my life to share it with me. You’re my future. My present. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. You’re my mate.”
Acceptance flickered in her gaze and she gave a tiny smile. “And I couldn’t have picked a better one. Well, if I’d been given a choice, that is,” she teased.
He laughed softly, and moved to his feet, offering her his hand.
“Let’s get to your brother’s house.”
“My brother’s?” She rose to her feet. “Why?”
“It’s time to turn myself in. Time to trust the truth will come out.”
He saw the fear in her eyes and shook his head at her protest.
“It’s time, Sage. You know I’m right. Don’t think with your heart on this, but your head.”
She bit her lip, before finally she nodded. “You’re right, and I’ll help them believe. I’ll tell everyone how that son of a bitch tried to kill me. How I believe in your innocence, and that I’m an idiot for having a moment of—”
“You’re human.” He arched a brow. “Or at least part of the time.”
Lacing his fingers through hers, he led them out of the woods and back to where he’d left the car.
It really was time. Time to trust the system he worked for. He just hoped like hell it didn’t fail him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When the click of the lock sounded, Jocelyn closed the drawer beside the bed and turned to face the door to the motel room.
Frank stepped inside and closed the door behind him. His usual impeccable appearance utterly disheveled now.
She stared at him, her teet
h clenched so hard her jaw began to ache.
He stepped into the room, his gaze firmly on hers. “We need to leave.”
“It’s you, isn’t it.” She didn’t even phrase it as a question. “It’s not Agent Larson, but you, killing all those women.”
He gave her a gentle, vague smile. “Our community believes it’s him.”
“Do they still? You’re quite naïve, Frank. You framed him.”
“Not initially.” He thrust a hand through his hair and gave a sheepish smile. “The desire to watch a woman’s life drain from her body has become a bit of a hobby of mine. Ever since I discovered the drug that gave me the ability to shift,” he murmured as casually as discussing the weather.
“You use the drug. Of course. Why didn’t I realize?”
“You should try shifting, Jocelyn. It’s amazing. So liberating. It’s who we are.” He made a happy little sigh that was almost childlike. “But yes, when I realized how deep your hatred was for Nathan Larson I knew it would be all too easy to shift the blame for my killings to Agent Larson.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“Am I?” He approached and caught her in his arms, pulling her close. “Well, I’m also your mate.”
“Yes. You are. I realized this shortly after you left. You know how I figured out that the little bite on my neck wasn’t just you roughing it up a little?” She nearly spat each word. “When I started seeing images through your eyes. When I saw you nearly murder that girl. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Sage?” He stroked a hand through her hair and she fought the instinct to shudder. “I assumed her death would’ve pleased you. Larson loves her. Her death would’ve destroyed him.”
“You’re not a cat bringing a dead mouse to your owner’s doorstep, Frank. This was an innocent woman.”
“As were the other handful I killed, I’m sure. Why do you, of all people, suddenly value human life, Jocelyn?” he asked, as if he genuinely was curious about the answer.
“You’re a Goddamn serial killer.”
“Casting stones in a glass house, are we?”
His sing-song words made her itch to slap him.
“Meeting me in that bar was never a coincidence, Was it?”
“No.” He gave a small, reflective smile. “I was actually going there to kill you that night.”
He’d been about to kill her. Dear Lord. She’d slept with—unknowingly mated with—a man who was openly confessing he’d been ready to kill her.
“Alicia—you remember Alicia, right? Larson’s now deceased fiancée?—yes, well we were childhood friends.”
Friends? Alicia and this sociopath were friends? What kind of fuckery was all this?
“She had asked me to help with the murder of her pack—somehow sensed I had a thirst for bloodlust. She was tired of their ways. The pressure. The expected mating with Agent Larson. And while you provided the drug she needed for her to embrace her dark side, she asked if I would be there as well.” He gave an amused laugh. “No drug needed on my part, of course, but you gave Agent Larson the drug, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” She’d hoped he wouldn’t be able to fight the drug. That he would be driven to a murderous rampage just as Alicia had been.
But Nathan Larson was much stronger, physically and mentally, than she’d given him credit for.
But she’d reviewed the footage from the camera she’d set up ahead of time, and it appeared Alicia had been responsible for most—if not all—of her pack’s death. The other wolf she’d seen chasing the pack must’ve been Frank, not Alicia. Which made sense now that she thought about it. Frank did resemble Nate slightly while in wolf form. Then again, most wolves looked the same to her besides their coloring.
She’d cut all incriminating footage of Alicia from the film, though, in the video she’d given to the Central California pack leader.
“So, in a way, Jocelyn, you’re directly responsible for Alicia’s death.” Frank spoke to her slowly, deliberately, as if he were talking to a child. “Agent Larson murdered her.”
“Truthfully, I assumed they’d both die that night. It would’ve been no sweat off my back.”
“Perhaps not, but she was my friend. And surely you can understand how I might take that personally.” He slid his hand from her hair, to close his fingers around her neck.
Her pulse quickened with fear, but she murmured a dry, “Of course.”
His fingers tightened over her windpipe. “So, yes, I met you in the bar that night with the intention to kill you.” He eased the pressure of his fingers again. “And then I saw you. Spoke to you. Realized how fascinating and beautiful you were. And that’s when I knew.”
“Knew what?” She knew she was expected to ask the words, and played along with his little game.
“That you were never meant to be my victim.” He kissed her neck—the same reddened spot where he’d marked her earlier. “You were destined to be my mate.”
She didn’t resist as he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. Didn’t protest when he stripped her from her clothes and proceeded to seduce her.
When his head was buried between her legs, and he was driving her toward orgasm, she silently reached to open the drawer of the small desk next to her to retrieve the necessary item.
But she waited for her orgasm before she leveled the gun at his head and then pulled the trigger.
“I want to see him.” Sage paced outside the Seattle office of the P.I.A. Agency. “God, when will they let me see him?”
Sienna stood from the chair she’d been waiting in and squeezed her hand. “I know this isn’t easy, but you must be patient. You have to trust everything will be okay.”
Be patient? Trust everything would be okay? So much easier said than done.
Almost a week had passed since Nathan had turned himself in. A week of her crying at night and visiting him during the day with cheerful optimism. Often forced, but dammit, she couldn’t let him know how sick this all made her.
Fortunately he’d been cleared of any connection to the deaths of the women on the West Coast. That case had been closed and handled by the P.I.A. quite discreetly, Donovan had told her.
They’d both been shocked to learn that Frank Collins had been found dead in a California motel. Apparently an anonymous tip had led the P.I.A. to his body.
They had recovered, and disposed of, the shifter’s body. Most likely relieved they wouldn’t have to go through a trial with the elders.
But all the pack deaths that Nate and Alicia were being accused of were still under investigation. And right now Nate was inside meeting with several P.I.A. superiors and an Elder who’d flown out from the East Coast.
“Have you heard anything on whether they found the child in the video?” Sage asked, glancing over at Sienna.
Her brother Jim had handed over the video to the P.I.A., and last she’d heard they’d been looking into it.
“We located him this morning.”
Sage turned at the unfamiliar voice and spotted a pretty woman in slacks and a blouse, dark hair pulled back, striding toward them.
Hope rose in her heart—anything could help at this point. A witness who’d survived would be ideal.
“Really?”
“Really. Our unit located him this morning and he was questioned shortly afterward.” The woman held out her hand. “I’m Grace, I work in Agent Larson’s unit. You must be Sage? His mate?”
A blush filled Sage’s cheeks, and she shook the woman’s hand. “Yes. I guess word travels fast.”
“It’s a small community. I’d been hoping to get the chance to meet you.”
Grace’s gaze scanned her face and Sage couldn’t help but feel like she was being weighed and measured.
“You look like you’d be good for him,” Grace finally said. “I heard you saved his ass in California.”
“Something like that.”
“She is good for him.”
Warrick Donovan and another man approached i
n the hallway.
“How are you doing?” Warrick asked, giving her hand an encouraging squeeze.
“I’ve been better.” It felt good to be surrounded by people she trusted. Considered friends now. Amazing how so much could change in such a short amount of time.
Sympathy flashed in his eyes. “I believe it.”
“Every night I’m making myself work on my book, while trying not to imagine the worst possible outcome from all this,” she confessed, glancing again at the closed door where her mate was on trial. “I just need to know that he’ll be cleared.”
Her voice broke on those last words, and she bit her lip as she tried to stop tears from filling her eyes.
“He’ll be cleared.” The other man, whom she didn’t know, stepped forward and nodded. “The name’s Darrius Hilliard, and Larson’s been my commander for over a decade. He’s not only an outstanding alpha and leader, but a good friend. He didn’t do this.”
These three believed in Nate’s innocence as much as she did, and that realization gave her strength.
She watched as Grace moved to stand next to Darrius and slid her hand into his. Clearly they were mates. It was rather sweet, the loving glance they exchanged.
It was so emotionally intense, and she wanted that kind of connection with Nate. Wanted the chance to build on their rocky foundation, because she knew their future was going to be amazing if they were given the chance.
If they weren’t…
She closed her eyes and images assailed her. Nate being dragged out of the room, silent and resigned, as he was led to a death squad.
She knew how this worked. She knew what would happen if things didn’t go his way. She’d gone back to Nate’s house where she’d been staying and researched it extensively.
In some ways, their kind could be a bit more medieval than the humans.
If he were to be convicted of those deaths, then he would pay with his life. There would be no delays. No appeals. If you were found guilty and sentenced to death by the shifter community, you were executed within an hour of the sentence.
Again, just thinking about it had her raising her fist to her mouth and struggling against the bile that rose in her throat.
Savage Revenge Page 19
