“I wanted to rip Ian apart last night. That’s a big one,” he answered after a long moment. “Mostly I wanted to get you away from there. He could have come back, and he didn’t deserve to even put eyes on you after all the damage he did.”
“And now?”
“I want…” he frowned, like he didn’t know what words to use. “I don’t want to see you lose your smile. I want you happy.”
Sloan wrapped her arms around his neck. “Then you better get to cooking, cowboy. I didn’t stop for lunch today.”
Lorne chuckled and leaned into her again. He sipped at her lips. Peck, sip, he held himself back from turning those little kisses into more. They were building something inside her, though. Something powerful and needy. He was making it harder for her to turn her back on him.
She didn’t have his powerful instincts, but she definitely wanted to care.
Chapter 17
Sloan’s eyes snapped open. Her pulse kicked up a notch, and she struggled to figure out what woke her.
Pressure on the bed shifted and feet dropped to the ground. “Stay here,” Lorne whispered fiercely.
“What’s going on?”
Instead of answering, he padded on silent feet to the window and flicked aside the curtain.
She couldn’t see his face. Hell, she could barely see anything in the darkness. But she recognized the tight set to his shoulders and rigid spine. The man was on alert.
“Lorne, what is it?” she asked again.
A low growl rattled in his chest. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of this.”
The words chilled her. He’d said the same thing when her house had been vandalized and he wanted to tear after Ian. She’d had a devil of a time talking him down then. She doubted he’d listen a second time.
Lorne swept away from the window and past the bed. “Stay here,” he ordered over his shoulder.
Sloan listened to him as long as she could. Twelve steps, maybe. She didn’t even hear a door open or close.
She swung out of bed and pulled on jeans as she crossed to the window. Lorne’s glance out left a tiny part between the curtains. Someone stooped near the tires of his truck. Good money that it was Ian.
“Motherfucker,” she muttered. One home wasn’t enough of a message for him. He had to keep picking, keep attacking. He couldn’t let Lorne have any peace from the crimes and traumas of years past.
And Lorne? Sloan had no idea where he’d disappeared to after ordering her to stand down. She was a damn agent; she should be the one running around in the dark and chasing after suspects. She couldn’t let him dive down a path that would lead him to ruin.
She stuffed her shirt over her head as she rounded the bed and reached for her phone to punch in Crewe’s number. Two rings, and he picked up. “Better be good, Kent,” he muttered.
“I have eyes on Ian Bennett. Possible property damage in progress.” Sloan cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder while she tugged on her shoes.
All the sleep dropped from his voice. “Where are you?”
“Black Claw Ranch.”
He paused. Either with disapproval or jotting it down, Sloan didn’t know. “Got it. Stay put, you hear? Do not move until you have backup.”
She made a noncommittal sound and hung up the phone.
Lorne and Crewe both could tear strips from her hide after Ian was brought to justice. She’d take the reprimands when she was sure Ian wouldn’t kill Lorne. No doubt about it, her cowboy would end up dead either in the true sense of the word or as good as, if he were forced to repeat the actions of his past.
She tossed her phone to the bed and stepped out of the bedroom. No one stood in the living room. She strode for the back door and out into the night.
Sloan paused at the corner of the house and listened carefully with her back pressed to the wall. No sounds reached her ears. Not a breath or a step or anything else that would give someone away. Unease crept up her spine with the feeling of being hunted just as she’d had on the trail with Lorne. Only instead of a stomach-dipping night of pleasure ahead, a monster waited in the dark.
She kept low as she rounded the corner. No movement caught her eyes. Both men had vanished into the darkness.
Sloan slipped to the side of her Jeep and unlatched the door as quietly as possible. Metal still creaked. Grimace on her face, she unlocked and fished into her glove compartment for her weapon, badge, and handcuffs.
Now to find Ian.
She glanced behind her and toward Lorne’s home. Others were arranged nearby with no lights on inside. The barn and main house loomed large in the other direction. Without any signs, she didn’t know which way to go.
Something clattered to the ground in the distance. Sloan swung her weapon in the direction of the barn. Adrenaline dumping into her veins, she started into the night.
Not a living thing moved or made a sound. No bugs, no critters, and certainly no humans or shifters.
She felt exposed.
Sloan hurried across the open expanse and toward the barn, hoping she wasn’t about to find Lorne covered in Ian’s blood. None of the side doors were thrown open, so she stuck close to the fence ringing the building. The double doors of the entrance were parted just enough to allow someone the squeeze inside.
Sloan raised her weapon. Two quick breaths, and she swung the nearest door open.
She passed her eyes over the scene quickly. Ian moved down the lines of stalls, peeking into each of them. Sloan’s eyebrows drew together. Was he looking for a place to hide or a way out?
With a muffled growl, he stopped at one stall and yanked on the bolt holding the door closed.
“Stop where you are,” Sloan called out. She trained her weapon on the center of his back. Going for a horse? Bastard.
“You’re not the one I expected to come running.” Ian shuffled slowly around to face her. A malicious grin hitched up his lips. “You fighting all that fucker’s battles?”
“You’re even dumber than you look if you think that’s the case.” She took a step to the side, weapon still trained on Ian. “On your knees. Let’s not make this more of a problem than it already is.”
Looking downright feral, Ian nodded. He slowly raised his hands and laced his fingers behind his head, then dropped to his knees.
Unease rolled through her again. Sloan kicked the feeling to the back of her head. She didn’t have any time for the doubts brought with it. Ian was her priority. The rest could be dealt with once he was in custody.
She holstered her gun at the same moment she whipped out the handcuffs. With a flick of her wrist, the pieces snapped open and she settled the claws around the first of Ian’s wrists.
He jerked just before she could ratchet it closed. Body twisting, he swung a fist into her stomach.
Sloan doubled over and wheezed. Her lungs refused to work and Ian gave her no time to recover before another brutal pounding cracked against her ribs. She stayed upright by sheer stubbornness and locked knees.
She stumbled backward and away from the source of pain, hands already reaching for her weapon. Stony determination covered over slick fear. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Ian clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Now, now, you shouldn’t point guns at people.”
He yanked on the grip and ripped it away from her. She winced as the weapon clattered to the ground and skidded away from them both.
Fight or flight scratched at the back of her brain, two sides of the same instinct warring with the other. He was stronger and meaner. He had the advantage over her even without factoring in the beast under his skin.
Help was on the way. Maybe even somewhere in the night already. Others lived on the ranch, too. The wild clan would be down for a fight.
Sloan took a step back. She just had to buy herself some time.
Don’t run from the beasts.
Lorne’s words echoed in her head.
Fuck it. Sloan glared at the man and prepared for the next attack.
Another punch to her stomach, a knee to her already aching ribs. She lashed out between blows, landing a cracking punch to his nose. Her knuckles complained, but she gritted her teeth against the pain.
Blood spurted and anger shined in his eyes. Ian wiped at his lip with the back of his hand. “I’ll give you this much, you got more spirit than that last human cunt.”
“Yeah? Did she hit as soft as you?” she taunted. Her body protested the next step she took backward. Another made Ian shamble forward to reach her.
Ian snarled and lunged for her. Sloan danced out of his reach. Ten steps more, maybe less, and they’d be out in the night.
Sloan turned and ran. Six steps. Four.
She passed through the barn doors to the sound of whinnying horses.
Ian yanked her hair and dragged her to her knees.
Sloan twisted in his grasp and fell on her back. She lashed out with fists and kicks, but Ian brushed them off like they were flea bites. All the fear and anger she’d locked away rode up again the moment he straddled her and raised his fist.
Beaten. Weak. Stupid. Words flung at her over the years forced their way to the front of her mind.
A roar cracked through the night and a huge bear raced toward them.
Ian’s eyes widened with loathing and a spark of fear before he scrambled to his feet and ran.
Pops and cracks echoed in her ears as the bear’s shape shimmered. Lorne crouched over her, hand smoothing back her hair. Horror and guilt played out over his face as he made soothing noises. “Shh, shh, it’ll be okay.
“Stop him!” Sloan gritted out.
Lorne didn’t move. “I’m not leaving you like this.”
He held her through all her protests while the rest of the clan stumbled out of their homes. He didn’t let her go until lights flashed over them.
* * *
“I’m fine,” Sloan insisted, but the doctor still held her chin between strong fingers. Icicles, maybe. The gloves didn’t offer much barrier between him and freezing her. She thought she’d die of exposure before the exam was finished.
The door to the exam room burst open. Crewe bustled inside, huge shoulders nearly hitting the edges of the doorframe. “Kent, what were you thinking?”
Lorne followed on his heels. “How is she, Doc?”
That question was no less demanding than the first, but was laced with more concern.
The old man clucked his tongue and finally released her chin. He reached for her chart and made a note before clicking his pen and stuffing it back into a pocket. “Black eye, but no threat of permanent damage. I’m concerned about the bruised ribs. No break that I could see, but those can be a nasty bit of work for recovery.”
“Hi. Right here,” Sloan bristled.
He blinked at her like he’d just realized she existed. “Right. Yes. You’re in for some rough days, missy. You humans heal so slow.”
Sloan cocked her head and tried to puzzle out if he was simply stating a fact or insulting her to her face. The man’s bedside manner was astoundingly lacking. It was a relief when he scuttled from the room and left her alone with the stone-faced men bracketing her bed.
Crewe fixed her with a steady, no-nonsense look that probably made plenty of underlings squirm. She fought against the desire to duck her eyes.
“You need to rest. You take all the time you need. I don’t want you back at the office until you’re completely healed up.”
The words grated. Time. Completely healed. They sounded nice on the surface, but she knew they drew a line between the shifters and the human. She lacked when compared to them.
Crewe could take his kind words and choke on them.
Sloan struggled upright and only hissed once at the sharp sting of pain from her bruised side. “I need to get back out there. Who is tracking him?”
“Not a chance, Kent. You’re beat to shit. Let the rest of us handle this. You did what you could. It’s time to back off. You’re too close to this.” Crewe lowered his eyes. Frustration greeted her when they opened again. “And that’s not taking into account the orders you disobeyed when you didn’t wait for backup.”
“Of-fucking-course I’m close. He’s fucked with me twice now. I couldn’t let him get away.”
Both Crewe and Lorne cocked their heads. Nostrils flared.
Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. She wanted to catch Ian as much as she wanted to keep Lorne from doing something he’d regret.
“He’s right. You need to rest. This isn’t your fight,” Lorne said.
Sloan slowly swiveled her attention from Crewe to Lorne. Her jaw tightened to hold back the string of curses she wanted to unleash on both of them.
Crewe cleared his throat. “I’ll let you two have a moment.” He patted the railing on the clinic bed, then pointed at her with a stern look. “You’re off duty until you’re healed up, understand?”
“Understood,” she agreed unwillingly. The moment the door shut behind him, she started in on Lorne. “Did they find a trail? Are they searching for him now? Why the hell did you go out there by yourself?”
“I could say the same about you. It’s not your fight,” Lorne stubbornly repeated. His eyes trailed down her face as he studied her injuries. Regret brightened his eyes, but his voice was hard when he spoke. “Look at what he did to you.”
Sloan glared. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been slapped around by a suspect. Won’t be the last. It’s a part of the job, Lorne. A shitty part, but not unavoidable.”
“It was! Entirely unavoidable!” He jammed his fingers into his hair and paced away from the side of the bed. On his turn back, his eyes flared gold. “If you had just stayed inside like I said—”
“So you could go out there and kill him yourself? You do not get to order me around like a child. I know the risks—”
“With humans. You aren’t one of us. Going up against a shifter left you looking like this!” He waved a hand at her.
Sloan recoiled, then shook her head. “That’s right. I’m not one of you. Let’s just keep underscoring that point, shall we? I’m not one of you, so your psycho cousin wants to kill me. I’m not one of you, so I should just forget about upholding any laws that touch someone with supe blood. I’m not one of you, so I should probably invest in a fucking bubble and live out my life in perfect safety.”
“That’s not—”
“That’s exactly what you meant. You and everyone else who takes a look at me and scoffs because I’m not as strong as you, or I don’t heal as fast, or because I’m just another human. Nothing special, right?”
His eyes flared gold. “No,” he ground out. “You’re entirely special. I don’t want to see you hurt like this ever again.”
She heard the unspoken words that had soured the air between her and so many other relationships. None of this would happen if it weren’t for her job. If she just gave it up, worked somewhere else, did anything else, she wouldn’t land in a clinic with bruises and black eyes.
Fuck that. Anyone who doubted her didn’t need to be in her life.
“You should leave.” She sank back against the bed and turned her face from him.
Her heart ached and she couldn’t even convince herself it was because of Ian. That was the danger of letting someone in. And he’d let her down like all the rest.
“Sloan,” he said in a strangled voice.
She didn’t move. She didn’t look at him. Lorne wasn’t her concern. She hardened herself against the pain she’d been stupid enough to let him cause.
Finding the asshole who fucked him up was her entire focus. She could give Lorne that much before forgetting about him completely.
Chapter 18
“Turn here,” Sloan said. She pointed to the rundown strip mall with two good stores and a bar on one side. The drinking hole claimed the biggest slice of vehicles in the parking lot.
“This is not a doctor’s office,” August grouched.
“You’re very perceptive.”
“‘Had an appointment,’” he muttered, shaking his head with disbelief. “You’ve been spending too much time with us.”
“Maybe,” she conceded. She’d been purposefully vague on what she needed when she asked for a ride. She needed her words to pass the sniff test so her partner didn’t guess anything was amiss. His fault for assuming her appointment was with an actual doctor.
August eyed her sharply. “What the hell have you gotten me into, Kent?”
Well, there was always going to be a moment of confession. She couldn’t very well track down Ian without someone’s help. And she would track him down. Her stomach churned with the idea of him out in the world, making anyone else miserable. That, and she needed to prove everyone wrong about her.
A tiny, minuscule voice in the back of her head corrected her. Not everyone. Lorne.
She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t incapable. Being human just meant she had to work in other ways. And no way in hell was she going to see some criminal activity taking place and fall back asleep.
That tiny voice squeaked about making sure the asshole didn’t get close to Lorne again. Or the other way around. Lorne didn’t need that trouble.
She shoved that voice way down deep and drowned it out with answering August. “We’re looking for Ian.”
Lorne wasn’t her concern. He made it known what he thought of her job and her ability to do it. The sting of his rejection mattered less than putting a collar on his cousin. Ian Bennett was dangerous and needed to be stopped before he did anyone else harm.
“Fucking hell!” August slapped the steering wheel then shoved a finger under her nose. “I knew you’d be the death of me.”
Sloan went on as if he hadn’t objected. “We know he was staying in Oxmark when we brought him in for questioning. We know he likes to have a drink. So I got a list of bars in the area. We’ll start near his motel that he won’t go back to unless he’s the biggest idiot in the world because of course, that’s the first place someone will look for him. Not us, though. Because we’re not idiots.”
Breaking Fate: Book Three: Black Claw Ranch Page 14
