by Sadie Hart
A short laugh burst past Timber’s lips. She wasn’t sure Brandt was hers to fight for. “I barely know him and I doubt—”
“Don’t over-think it.” She tapped Timber’s temple. “Up here isn’t the same as what’s in your heart. And I know what you’re going to say. You doubt he feels the same. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying. Sometimes men are just a little slower to get on board the love train. They figure it out, though. Eventually.”
Shay tossed her a wry smile.
“You speak from experience?”
“Yeah. And I’m still knocking my heartache upside the head with a figurative two-by-four. I think he gets it now, but is just being stubborn.”
Timber looked down at the bags in her hands. “You’re probably right, but it’s more than just him. I’m so tired of running and hiding. I’m tired of waking up from a nightmare every night like I’m still running.”
“Well, you’ve already got people ready to help. So next let’s teach you how to fight.” She tilted her head toward the door. “And for what it’s worth. I think you can only run so far, for so long, before the only option left is to finally take a stand. At least when it’s done, you won’t have to look over your shoulder anymore.”
That was a day Timber finally believed she could look forward to. A day she’d do anything to reach.
“Lead the way.”
***
Brandt recognized the small house on the other side of the road behind Timber’s lot. The couple who lived there were both human, so he hadn’t been overly worried that they’d draw Wolfe’s attention. From the beginning, he’d known that the Wolfman had only stalked wolf-shifters. Now, with the death of a Hound, he felt a curl of uneasiness beginning to unfurl.
No one was completely safe. It was a lesson he really needed to make sure sank in with everyone who might cross the Wolfman’s radar.
But the man who lived down the road from Timber leaned against the rungs on his porch rail, watching the Hounds approach, and not looking particularly worried. Then Brandt noticed the rifle casually leaning against the rail by the man’s hip.
The guy was probably in his early fifties, a light spattering of gray along his temples giving his black hair a salt-and-pepper look. The woman behind him appeared to be about the same age. She sat on the swing behind him, her wire rim glasses perched on the end of her nose.
“These are the Burkes,” his Hound said, stepping up to introduce them.
The burly older man leaned down and extended his hand to Brandt. Brandt took it. “Luke Burke, and this is my wife Emma.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, her voice like butter. Sweet and soft. “I try to mind my own business, but we’ve been watching the news. Everyone’s chattering on about some wolf killer being in these parts. Then all you Hounds showed up—”
“I wish you’d stay inside,” Mr. Burke said and Brandt could see the mildly annoyed look flash across his face. But there was love there, too, and worry.
“Please. Miss Timber ain’t never been a problem to us. She’s always been sweet. Good neighbors watch out for each other.”
“From inside their houses.” The gruff edge of irritation seemed to grow in Luke Burke’s voice, while Brandt struggled not to smile.
Mrs. Burke harrumphed. “I did. For the most part. But I can’t sleep all that well these days. My mind starts running and just can’t shut off.”
Brandt tilted his head. “Did you see something?”
Her husband rubbed at his forehead.
“I did. We’ve been seeing a car park at the old Johnson house. Honey, point to it, so they know what house I’m talking about.”
Luke Burke leaned over the rail and pointed down the road to the left. “You can see the hint of blue just beyond the trees there.”
Brandt saw it. He hadn’t been aware anyone lived in the house. Well, at least no one had been home the few times he’d sent Hounds out, but everything he could find said the legal residents were human.
“They’re Florida birds, but this past winter they didn’t come back like the usually do. Bet they’ll be selling the house this year,” Mrs. Burke rattled on. “So of course I noticed when a strange car was coming and going in their driveway. Lucy and I are friends on Facebook, and I asked her about it. She said her house should be empty.”
“Is Lucy the Mrs. Johnson you mentioned earlier?” Tate asked and Mrs. Burke nodded.
“And she doesn’t know anyone who drives a car like that. She was all worried, but I told her I’d have Luke go check out her place. Nothing been broken into or nothing, but it got me curious.”
Her husband grunted. Brandt doubted curious was a positive thing in Luke Burke’s mind. But he couldn’t stop his flare of excitement. They’d tracked Wolfe’s scent several times, but the man usually wandered, strolling miles down the road, over a creek, and weaving behind several properties. Always taking different directions.
“Can you see Timber’s house from the Johnson property?”
“Easily,” Luke Burke muttered. “There’s a small clearing that cuts between the two properties. You can watch the place, no problem, just sitting in the driveway.”
Mrs. Burke spoke then. “And not too long ago I saw a man wandering down the road. Kinda jogging. Wearing a baseball cap. I didn’t get a good look at him, but he vanished up around the Johnson’s house. I didn’t think anything of it, really, ‘til last night.”
Brandt lifted an eyebrow. “What happened last night?”
“Actually, it was more this morning than last night. Like I said, I can’t sleep too well anymore. It was probably four-thirty in the morning, and I decided to come out here, get some fresh air. Lights flashed down the road and, sure enough, that car was backing out of the Johnson driveway again.”
“Can you describe the vehicle?” Brandt glanced at Tate, but the other Hound already had his notebook out and ready.
“Red. Four-door sedan. Had something on top of it, you know like the pizza delivery cars do. Except no one delivers out here. I should know, Luke keeps trying.” She hopped off the swing and shuffled over to the top of the stairs. Her husband watched her the whole time, and Brandt could see the love in his eyes, even if it was tinged with exasperation. “I had my phone with me when he pulled out, and I tried to get a picture of the license plate. It’s not real clear, but you can make some of it out.”
Holy shit. Brandt blinked at her for a second before his brain kicked in enough to look down at her phone. A partial plate. Sure enough. Brandt could make out four of the numbers. Almost a fifth. Colorado plates.
“Ma’am, you took one hell of a risk,” Tate said softly.
She gave a rather unladylike snort. “I still didn’t think it had anything to do with Timber or your mess on the news. I was just going to call the cops and tell them we were worried someone was casing Lucy’s place. She’s got a lot of fine jewelry and things that might be worth a burglar’s while to snatch.”
“They make quite a bit of money,” Luke said. “They have family up here, hence the little house. But their house in Florida is right on the beach. They’re not hurting for cash.”
Mrs. Burke chimed in again. “But then I remembered all the commotion and flashing lights from last night, we could see those even through the trees out here. Then you all showed up again this morning and, well, I figured it might just be helpful.”
Brandt looked up at her. “Thank you.”
He stared at the numbers Tate had jotted down, thinking hard and fast. Those numbers might very well be the break they needed. Brandt glanced at the Hound beside him. “Let’s take a look at the Johnson place.”
What the Burkes couldn’t do was tell if it was Wolfe who had been there, but everyone left a scent behind. He and Tate would know immediately if it was Wolfe. They shook hands with the Burkes one last time and hurried down the road.
Brandt caught the musky scent of wolf about halfway there, soon as they emerged from the trees.
“Did you h
ave anyone who can try and trail him this morning?”
“No, sir. We secured the immediate premises and called you. The scent was old, didn’t see the point in tracking it when we’d had no luck before.”
“We can’t afford to think like that on this case.” Brandt knelt along the side of the road. He could see paw prints in the dirt, followed by boot prints. “I should have had people stationed here waiting for him to return, but he moved faster than I did. He’s out-maneuvering us every step of the way.”
“And it’s getting damn annoying,” the other Hound muttered, and Brandt agreed. That it was.
“But I think we just might have gotten lucky,” Brandt murmured. Shoving to his feet, he continued down the road. Wolfe’s scent from this morning lingered over the asphalt, crisp and clear. And it led straight to the Johnson’s driveway.
And Luke Burke was right. Standing in the dirt driveway, Brandt could catch a glimpse of Timber’s house through the thick, overhanging trees. Stepping further in, and he could see all of it. Wolfe could have easily watched them without ever tipping his hand. “Call in that plate, get someone working on it. I want everyone out looking for that car.”
Because finding it was the first real shot they had at finding Charles Wolfe, and Brandt would be damned if he let the chance slip away.
Chapter Sixteen
Timber laughed when the tin can bounced off the table and ricocheted across Shay’s lawn. The silver metal still spun and clattered over the grass and pebbles while she lowered the rifle. Her shoulder ached from the recoil, and her arms felt like jelly from the sheer weight and number of weapons Shay had helped her learn to use today. But every second she’d spent training had been worth it.
They’d helped her feel strong again.
She’d never been a gun person. Bad things usually ended up in the hands of bad people, and there was no denying a gun could be a very, very bad thing. Still, when she looked down at the slender rifle in her hands, she felt stronger.
“Nice one,” Shay called out. She was sprawled out on top of her picnic table, one booted foot dangling over the edge, her other knee pressed up against her chest. She had a beer in one hand, but Timber had the impression that it’d take a lake of alcohol to dull Shay’s senses. The woman was alert to everything. A squirrel chattering in the trees, the wind chimes on her front porch, the slight shift in Timber’s breathing.
Shay had called her out several times for letting her mind wander, and when Timber had asked her how she’d known, Shay had explained. A person’s breathing changed with their thoughts, and if it was something negative, you could detect a shift. A slight hitch. Apparently it was a useful talent when you were trying to keep someone safe.
People rarely tell you the whole story. Sometimes you have to figure it out on the fly. The ex-boyfriend they don’t want to mention, but suddenly see in the crowd. Paying attention to the person you’re supposed to be watching is almost as vital as watching the crowd around them.
“You shutting down again, sweetheart. Go stack some more cans and picture Wolfe’s face on every one. It’ll cheer you up.”
Timber smiled as she glanced back at Shay. The woman was so not what she’d expected. Cool, crass, but with a heart of freaking gold. “You know, I used to hate guns.”
Shay shrugged. “The guns themselves aren’t bad. Idiots who use them can be.”
Shay opened her mouth like she was about to say more, then tilted her head, her attention turning to the back of the house. Shay set her beer on the table and slid down, striding across the lawn to Timber.
“What’s wrong?”
“Gonna be getting company.” Shay took the rifle from her and then walked toward the house. She didn’t act concerned, but then again, she’d taken the gun.
“Shay?”
“It’s fine.”
Which didn’t tell Timber whether or not she was supposed to stay or follow. Rocking her weight back and forth for a second, Timber made the decision on her own and set off across the lawn after Shay. A large black SUV pulled to a stop in Shay’s drive, and Timber recognized the driver. Brandt killed the engine and hopped out, nodding at Shay.
“Shay, nice seeing you again.” He held out a hand and she took it.
“Same to you. Here on business or pleasure?”
A corner of Brandt’s mouth hitched up slightly, and Timber hesitated when his eyes met hers. “A bit of both. It’s not much, but I might have some good news.”
“Well then, why don’t we head in, get something to drink, and you can spill?”
Shay gestured for them both to follow. Brandt glanced at the rifle, then back up at Shay. “Teaching Timber to shoot?”
“Building on what you started.” She grinned. “She can now handle one heck of an arsenal. Knowledge keeps people alive, and now she’s got it in spades.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Timber said with a smile, but she felt slow. Out of touch. Good news? Her brain couldn’t even begin to process what Brandt might be hinting at. He paused at the doorway, holding the screen door open for her. His hand brushed the small of her back and Timber felt her nerves flare at his touch, heat expanding through her from that one touch. A small comfort. She had to fight not to stop and lean into his hand. “But I’m learning, and that helps.”
“On duty or off?” Shay asked as she walked through the living room and into the kitchen.
“Off.” And he sounded pretty relieved about it. Then again, the dark circles under his eyes were even darker. “Decided to switch packs out at five to give mine a break. We’ve been working practically round the clock for a while. We could all use a breather.”
Brandt especially, she’d bet. Timber didn’t doubt that he’d slept less than anyone else in his pack, since he’d also been protecting her. They both sat on Shay’s couch, and she leaned back, trying to relax. It felt weird having him this close, especially since, for the first time, it didn’t seem to be about work.
“Beer, then?” Shay held two long-necked bottles in one hand, one in the other. “They’re cold.”
Brandt grinned. “Gladly.” He took two and passed one to Timber. His fingertips brushed hers against the cold bottle. “How you holding up?”
“Good. Shay’s made me feel right at home.”
“We’re ordering pizza in tonight. Stuffed crust, the works. Want some?” Shay had kicked one of the stools out from her bar and was perched on top, watching them both. They hadn’t actually talked much about Brandt, but Shay hadn’t missed a beat since she’d met Timber.
“Love to.” Brandt took a swig before fixing his gaze on Timber. She felt her stomach twist, a mix of unease and excitement. Something flashed in his eyes, like a dog who’d just spotted a rabbit and was poised to give chase. It was a predatory, triumphant gleam. “We got lucky. Someone noticed that the house kitty-corner to yours, behind the trees, had been vacant for the season.”
“The Johnson’s house?”
“That’d be the one. Wolfe’s been parking there to stake you out. Probably not every time, but often enough. Neighbor called it in. She got a description of the vehicle and a rather blurry picture of the license plate.”
“A lot of computer programs these days can sharpen up a shitty image,” Shay said.
Brandt nodded. “We could already make out a chunk of it. Have tech working to see if they can do better.”
“Very bad people have been caught for the simplest shit wrong with a car. Could be your break.”
“That’s what we’re hoping.” Brandt set his beer down on the table and leaned closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne. “It’s not a smoking gun, but we have something, and that’s a lot better than what we’ve had up to now.”
Timber just looked at him, hardly able to process what he was saying.
“It’s not registered to him, obviously. That was the first thing we ran when you gave us Wolfe’s name. The vehicle described sounds commercial. Like a pizza delivery car. It lets him blend in.”
<
br /> “Well, whaddya know, and we’re ordering pizza tonight,” Shay said, her grin stretched wide. “Stakeout?”
Brandt gave a low chuckle, amusement flickering through his dark eyes, but he didn’t look away from Timber. “I highly doubt he works for a specific company. More likely, he snatched a junker and tossed something on the roof, keep people from asking questions. Cars like those don’t raise suspicions, but the license plate helps.”
“I was kidding anyway.” Shay hopped off her stool and joined them on the couch. “But we were talking pizza and a movie night. You in? I planned on watching that new Channing Tatum movie. The White House under attack one.” She wiggled her eyebrows at Brandt. “Man candy for us, but I think it’s got enough explosions to hold your interest.”
“Count me in.”
“Perfect.” She slapped him on the back. “We’ll place the order and I can go pick it up plus the movie. I needed to run by Nathan’s, anyway. Small pack meeting, enforcers only. I was going to skip, but this gives me the few minutes to pop my head in and say hi. What do you like on your pizza?”
“I’m game for anything,” Brandt said.
“Anything except anchovies.” Timber scrunched her nose.
Shay had the phone in hand. “Meat lovers, then? Vegetables should not touch my pizza. Just saying.”
Timber felt herself smile. Brandt angled to lean back against the couch next to her, his body relaxed, comfortable. And Shay...Shay seemed to take the world in stride. The woman was relentless, energetic, but most of all, she was cheerful and friendly. She’d welcomed Timber into her home and life with open arms.
They’d clicked, too. Timber had spent years without having a real friend, but one day with Shay had opened that door wide. Shay let her in so easily, Timber found herself wanting to share, wanting to laugh, to be normal. Shay rattled off their order over the phone, pacing across the smooth wood floors.
