by Sadie Hart
Brandt spun around in Timber’s living room. He was used to waking up in a hurry and having to be out the door, but here, hell, he couldn’t even remember where he’d put his overnight bag. He found it under the table beside the couch and dragged it out. “Give me ten,” he said and hung up.
He’d been hoping they’d catch a break after posting Wolfe’s picture everywhere they could think of, but even with a visual they didn’t get lucky often. Those who’d seen someone involved in a crime didn’t often admit it. For one of Bannock’s wolves to say she’d seen Wolfe also put her in a hell of a lot of danger.
She trusts her alpha. Because if there was one thing Nathan Bannock was good at, it was helping his wolves feel protected and making damn sure they were safe. Brandt glanced at the stairwell. Timber had tried, but she didn’t have the background, training, or resources Bannock did.
Dragging out a pile of clothes, Brandt shucked yesterday’s jeans and shimmied into a fresh pair. He might have said fuck it and just taken off in the clothes he’d slept in, but after a night spent snuggled up with her, he was sure her scent permeated the fabric. Chances were he’d still get questions, fresh clothes or not, but he didn’t have time for a shower.
“Going out?”
Brandt glanced up to see Timber leaning against the stair rail. She wore a pair of loose-fitting jeans and an old T-shirt. Her long purple hair was pulled back into a ponytail, only a few loose strands teasing the edge of her face. Staring up at her, he found it hard to concentrate on anything other than what it had felt like to have her pressed up tight against him, to have her lips on his. The heated warmth of her mouth, the silken touch of her tongue against his.
Her nostrils flared and he realized he wasn’t being subtle. She could probably smell his arousal, even if it wasn’t stamped all over his face. Brandt jerked his attention back to the job. He stuffed his feet into a pair of socks and reached for his shoes.
“Yeah. Think we found someone who spotted Wolfe in town.” Brandt tugged last night’s shirt over his head and let it flutter to the ground. “You staying here? Hell. I never thought to ask. What do you do, Timber?”
He glanced up. Her eyebrows had risen in a small arch as her gaze swept down the length of his chest and back up. “Do?”
“For a living? Do you have a job you need to go to? I can have someone—”
Her eyes clouded and Brandt nearly bit off his own tongue to stop the flow of words as they tumbled out of his mouth. Right. She still didn’t trust him enough to let him bring in anyone else. He should be thankful for what trust she’d given him, considering...but, hell.
Maybe another one of his Hounds would have had more restraint.
“I write. Don’t worry, I won’t leave the house today.”
Brandt yanked on his shirt. “Good.”
“You think— you think they actually saw Charles?” Brandt wanted to tell her it was okay, that Wolfe couldn’t get her here, but he wasn’t about to make her a promise he couldn’t guarantee to both of them that he could keep. He’d have Hounds posted outside all day, but he didn’t dare make her that promise.
“That’s what I’m going to find out. She’s taking one hell of a risk either way. Wolfe doesn’t sound like he likes loose ends.”
“No.” She whispered it, but even across the room he could hear the anger in her soft voice. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the banister.
Brandt stared at her a moment, watching the play of emotions across her face. The hatred, the anger, the fear, they spiraled through her, one after another. He doubted she knew what she felt anymore. Especially now, when she’d fought so hard to be free, only to discover it had been an illusion.
Without thinking, Brandt strode across the room. One hand clutched the banister as he swung around and took the two steps that put him just below her. He waited for her to flinch when he reached out, but she didn’t. Timber stood there, unwavering, while his hand found the curve of her neck and slipped up along the edge of her jaw. His fingers burrowed into her hair, and he pulled her head down, lowering her lips to his.
He shouldn’t.
Everything in him knew better. She was a job, a victim, someone he barely knew, and yet he kissed her anyway. Just a soft, soothing caress of lips, until she was kissing him back. Her hands framed his face, and when he pulled away he saw her confusion. “I promise you, I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you, to keep this other wolf, to keep everyone I can, safe.”
Then, before she could say anything, or he could do anything else as reckless as kissing Timber again, he turned and hurried to the door, snatching his keys off the table as he passed.
Somehow, between last night and this morning, whatever boundaries he’d maintained between personal and professional had blurred, but fuck if he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about kissing her. Not when he wanted nothing more than to do it all again. And more.
Lord help him, but he wanted more.
Chapter Nine
Timber touched her lips as she watched Brandt walk out her door. A Hound. She’d never believed a Hound might be a man worth giving a damn about. But something about him turned everything she’d thought about Hounds upside down and inside out. She wanted to trust him, wanted to believe him, and it scared her.
Her tongue teased out over her lips, tasting the memory of his kiss. How many times did she have to remind herself that a man like Brandt could hurt her in ways no one else could? Because he made her want to care about someone else for the first time in very long time. Oh, sure, she looked out for her pack, but she would never have let them in.
Leaning on the banister, her elbows braced against the smooth wood, she pressed her face into her hands. God. She’d thought this nightmare was over. Believed that, after three years, Charles would never find her.
When she looked up, her eyes strayed to the couch and the fear that had begun to stir eased again. Falling asleep in Brandt’s arms probably hadn’t been the smartest thing she’d ever done, but she’d felt safe. If Charles had walked through that door last night, she would have been safe.
“You hope,” she muttered. But she’d thought she was safe before, when she’d sought shelter in a Shifter Town Enforcement headquarters.
Blowing out a breath, she forced herself to move. She needed breakfast. Even if she didn’t feel like eating, she needed the fuel. Running around last night had been a blessing, but that much activity required sustenance. And worry, fear, all the wild tangle of emotions battering her, depleted her even more.
She took out her notebook as she waited for the toaster to pop, jotting down ideas for her current project. Her phone rang behind her and she jumped at the sound, shrill in the silence, followed by the pop of toaster. She didn’t even bother to glance at the caller ID when she picked up.
“Hello?”
A low growl sounded over the line and she froze, one hand clutching at the counter. Because she recognized that voice. “Tim-berrrrr.”
He said her name like a logger might as tree fell in the forest, drawn out, a sound that would carry miles. It prickled down her spine like an electric shock, making her knees give way until she was crouched on the floor, still stupidly clinging to the counter as if she had any strength left to pull herself up.
Her wolf had turned frantic, the beast clawing frantically inside her, desperate to break out. To break free. To run. God, they had to run, right now, and go so far that he could never find her. But running hadn’t worked last time. He’d found her. And something told her he’d always find her.
“What do you want, Charles?” She forced the words out. They sounded calmer than the roaring emotions in her head. Her voice didn’t even tremble, despite the fact that she shaking so hard her teeth should have been chattering.
“You don’t belong to him.” She could feel his anger as if it were something physical, something that could reach through the phone and grab her by her throat. Her hands were suddenly icy, her lungs so cold she couldn’t breat
he. “He can’t stay with you every night.”
Brandt.
Charles had been watching her—them—last night?
“I don’t belong to anyone. Not even you.” She yanked the phone away from her ear and hung up, his answering roar of rage cut off when the phone disconnected. She leaned her forehead against the cool wooden cabinets, but it didn’t stop the clutch and heave of her stomach. She twisted, trying to drag herself to the trash can, but she couldn’t move fast enough.
She vomited on the kitchen tile right before she passed out.
***
Kim Dawson squirmed in her chair across from Brandt, her gaze constantly seeking out the wolf who stood nearby. Nathan Bannock had refused to leave the room, and now Brandt could see why. Tate had made it sound like she wanted to help them, but this woman was scared stiff, perched at the edge of her chair like she was ready to bolt at any second.
“Ms. Dawson...”
“I don’t want to do this, Nathan.” Her voice trembled. Brandt opened his mouth to say something, anything, to calm her, but her alpha stepped up beside her and knelt. Bannock lay one hand against her knee and squeezed.
“They need to hear it from you,” he said softly.
Kim Dawson shuddered, then reached out and clutched her alpha’s hand. Nathan Bannock wasn’t a small man, and he still looked every bit the Marine he’d once been. But when Bannock knelt before one of his wolves, his face soft with sympathy, Brandt could see the man behind the alpha who ran one of the largest wolf packs on this side of the country. Here was a reason Nathan remained unchallenged.
And it was the reason why, when Kim Dawson looked back at Brandt, she seemed more at ease. Because she had to know the man kneeling next to her could stop damn near any danger from getting to her.
“I hate reliving this nightmare,” she told Brandt, and her lips trembled. “I just want to forget, you know?”
He knew. Especially after witnessing Timber’s harsh and broken terror, he knew. Brandt nodded. “I know. I just need you to tell me what happened.”
“I was leaving work. It was late. I wasn’t paying attention. I was texting. My daughter—” She closed her eyes and blew out a long, shaky breath. “My daughter always texts me when I’m at work. I always park in the same spot, so it wasn’t like I had to pay attention. I was just about to text her back when he pulled me into the alley.”
“Where do you work?”
“At the hotel up on Grand Street. There’s an alley next to their staff parking lot. It was a month ago. I still—I still can’t let Jason touch me.” She shivered.
Brandt glanced at Nathan. “Jason Dawson, her husband. Mate. He’s one of mine as well.”
Brandt filed that information away and processed what she’d told him before. Her attack had happened a month ago. That put it before the first victim. “Did you report it?”
“Yeah. The other pack was on shift. Someone named Monroe or...”
“I know the pack.” And he’d have Monroe send him the case file the moment he left here. Considering it happened before they’d known the Wolfman was back, he wasn’t surprised no one had noticed the connection. Monroe was a good Hound, but no way could he have known what was coming.
Still, taking a look at the file now couldn’t hurt. There might be information that hadn’t meant anything then but mattered now. Brandt met her gaze. “Was the man who attacked you a wolf-shifter?”
“Yes.”
Brandt filed her answer away in the back of his mind. It helped to narrow the timeline down a bit. It was hard to estimate just when Wolfe had been turned, but apparently it hadn’t happened while he was here. Brandt estimated it must have happened several months ago, but that was just a wild guess. Drawing a breath, he pulled out his phone and opened to a picture of Timber. He passed it over to her. “Do you know this woman?”
Nathan raised both eyebrows and Brandt saw the wolf’s jaw tighten. Still, the alpha held his tongue. It wasn’t surprising to learn Nathan recognized Timber, since he kept tabs on every wolf-shifter pack that bordered his. Hell, now that he thought about it, Nathan had probably known more than Shifter Town Enforcement about Timber’s pack.
Ms. Dawson leaned over to look at the phone and frowned, confusion scribbled all over her face. “Uh...she’s the Bear Creek alpha.” She glanced at Nathan as if looking for confirmation, but her alpha didn’t look at her. He was staring at Brandt, no doubt waiting for an explanation.
Brandt kept his attention on Ms. Dawson. “Yes, but do you know her?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve never even spoken to her. Just saw her around once.”
Which meant the only victim Wolfe had taken here who meant anything to Timber was Rebecca Morgan. He’d attacked one, killed another, then gone after Timber...kicking things off with the death of a wolf in her pack. Had the other ones meant anything to him? Or had they just been warm-ups?
Sometimes knowing more just opened up more questions he couldn’t answer. But years doing this job had taught Brant patience. Sometimes, the bad guy slipped up, but waiting for a mistake meant more and more had to die. Even then, the good guys didn’t always win, unfortunately. All he could do was keep digging and do everything in his power to break this case. It would have to be enough. Had to.
“Thank you, Ms. Dawson. Had you ever seen the man who attacked you before?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you mind if I ask, how did you get away?”
She closed her eyes, but not before a tear slipped out over her cheek. “Someone else was going to their car, which was parked by the alley. They stopped like they’d heard something and I started fighting. He spooked. I snatched up a rock and bashed him on the side of his head. I ran four blocks before I thought to get off the street and ask for help.”
Brandt nodded. So she’d most likely been a victim of opportunity.
Nathan gave a low growl, as if thinking along the same lines as Brandt. There was a strong chance Wolfe’s first few victims here were just...for fun. His stomach twisted at the thought.
“She called me first,” Nathan said, his voice low. “I called the Hounds on my way out there, but the son of a bitch was gone by the time I arrived. I didn’t realize it was the same man as your killer until she saw the picture you gave me, but I can identify him by scent. So can every enforcer in my pack. He’s not getting into Delphi territory.”
Brandt lifted an eyebrow. “How’d you manage that?”
“I ripped a chunk of fabric off her shirt before your Hounds could catalog everything.”
“That was evidence.” But even as Brandt said it, he couldn’t blame the wolf, and the hard line of Nathan’s jaw told him Nathan didn’t regret it either. “But, hell, it was smart.”
The Delphi alpha gave a gruff snort. He might as well have said No shit, and Brandt couldn’t help grinning. Delphi was probably the safest place to be because of the man in front of him and, hell, Brandt wished he could convince Timber she’d be safer with Delphi at her back.
Ms. Dawson fidgeted uneasily in her seat.
“Can I go?” She squeezed Nathan’s hand tighter and Brandt nodded.
“Yes, thank you.”
She might not have thought what she’d told them was very helpful, but she’d given him far more to work with than she thought. She’d confirmed that the man she’d seen matched their photo of Charles Wolfe. And now he had a scar on his left temple.
With the possibility that Wolfe had struck the first few victims at random, Brandt was left with one lingering question, but it wasn’t one Ms. Dawson could answer. Only Shifter Town Enforcements from surrounding states could provide that information. Had Charles Wolfe truly gone latent, or had he been killing all along while he searched for Timber?
And if so, could there be anything in one of those cases that could lead them to him?
Brandt watched while Ms. Dawson slowly rose to leave. Her legs shook so badly Nathan had to help her. Brandt leaned back and waited for Nathan to see her out
safely and return. The Delphi alpha wasn’t the kind of man to let something go, and he’d latched onto Timber’s possible involvement as soon as Brandt produced Timber’s picture. And Nathan wasn’t likely to let something like that go.
Brandt could ignore it, but he needed Delphi’s cooperation. Needed their help.
Which meant trusting the wolf-shifter now planted in front of him, arms crossed. Again. They’d never been friends, he and Nathan, but after Brandt had spent the first year of his career as alpha here proving he’d back the shifters under his protection, they’d developed a working relationship.
One dedicated to keeping the shifters under their shared protection safe.
For some reason, Brandt couldn’t help but feel like they’d both failed Kim Dawson.
“What does the Bear Creek alpha have to do with his?”
Brandt gestured to the chair. “Might want to have a seat. This could take a while.”
Nathan sank into the chair in front of him, his elbows braced on his knees as he leaned forward. “Hopefully that means you’re going to tell me all of it.”
Most of it, yeah. There were things Timber had told him, details that Nathan didn’t need to know. But he deserved to know the gist of it, if for no other reason than that it was up to Nathan to keep his pack safe. Brandt would do the best he could, but he had more to protect than those under Nathan’s care.
“I’m not sure what Tate has told you already, so I’ll start from the beginning. We suspect that the man who attempted to rape Ms. Dawson, Charles Wolfe, is a serial killer known as the Wolfman. The one who killed twelve women over the course of a year—”
“Except, the Wolfman was human. I followed the case. It was all over the news.”
Brandt grimaced. “He was human. Shortly before his first victim, he became obsessed with a wolf-shifter female. He ended up abducting her. Told her she was his destined mate. A lot of the werewolf bullshit you see in shitty teen movies these days.”
