by Mia Dymond
Shadow glanced around the perimeter until his gaze landed on Brooks and Lassiter huddled with several policemen.
“Did they follow you?” he asked Steele.
“Who?”
“Brooks and Lassiter.”
“No. I called Brooks when I got here. I don’t know who called Lassiter.”
“Brett,” Claire grasped her brother’s biceps. “Let Shadow talk to the police. I need you here.”
Steele frowned. “You feel him?”
“I don’t know. I feel something but I’m too weak to figure out what.”
The paramedic gave Steele a puzzled look.
Steele chuckled. “Female intuition.”
Shadow glanced back at Brooks and caught the flare of his badge in the sunlight. He balled his fists. “I’ll be right back.”
Brooks met him halfway and extended a hand. “Rough afternoon?”
Shadow gave Brooks’ hand a quick shake. “To say the least.”
“What the hell went wrong?”
Shadow eyed Brooks closely before he answered. “You’ve got a leak,” he said finally.
“I take it you had a tail.”
Shadow nodded, not ready to elaborate.
“I followed you as far as the railroad tracks. Did you notice you had company before then?”
Shadow paused for a brief moment and glanced at Claire who appeared to argue with her brother. Again.
He looked back at Brooks, angry as hell that any of this even happened. “No one followed except Steele.” He stopped to exhale hard. The detective worked a bent straw between his teeth as he waited for more of the story. Body language told him Brooks had a secret. The man needed a cigarette. Something fierce.
Shadow took pity and relayed the whole sordid story.
Brooks actually appeared perplexed when he finished. “Did you get a look at the driver?”
“Afraid not.” Shadow twisted his lips. “I was just a little distracted by the whole crashing thing.”
Brooks nodded. “No shit.”
Shadow noticed yellow tape now surrounded the perimeter. “You’ve marked this a crime scene?”
“After everything else, I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”
“It isn’t.” Shadow moved his gaze to Lassiter who now spoke to the fire chief. “I see you brought back up.”
“Yeah.” Brooks exhaled hard. “When the department is involved, he insists on participating.”
“Claire is not a cop.”
“She’s part of our team.”
Shadow took a mental step back and redirected his focus to Claire. “We’re on our way to the hospital. I’ll contact you when I know something.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
As soon as the emergency room physician shined his blinding, bright light into her eyes and sucked a good amount of blood from her vein, Claire was convinced she wouldn’t leave anytime soon.
“Due to your dizziness, I’d like to take a few x-rays of your head,” the doctor told her.
Despite her fatigue, she fought the ridiculous urge to giggle. Wonder how he’d react if she told him her vertigo had nothing to do with her head? Too bad the x-ray couldn’t give him the real reason.
An attendant soon rolled a wheelchair into the cubicle and then whisked her to the x-ray department. Not five minutes later she landed back in the emergency room.
Shadow frowned when she climbed onto the cot. “That was fast. How many x-rays did they take?”
Claire waited until the attendant left before she answered. “None.”
“Why the hell not?”
Her insides shook at the force of his anger. Her heart flip-flopped. Claire eased herself from the cot and grasped his biceps, both to calm him and to relieve the pressure in her head.
“Shadow, I’m fine.”
Although he didn’t speak it out loud, his doubt slipped through.
Pain poked her when he passed his knuckles over a sensitive spot on the side of her cheek. “You’re so pale, baby.”
Even with his calming touch, she felt his anger, his overwhelming urge to fix her and kill the person responsible. She supposed this was a good a time as any to screw with his emotions even more.
“I’m not seriously hurt.”
He dropped his hand to her waist. “Even you don’t know that without x-rays.”
Actually, she knew without a doubt. She was just too chicken to let him in on the secret. “I asked him to wait a few minutes,” she hedged.
Shadow cocked his head to one side, his suspicion clear. “Spill.”
“I need to sit back down.”
Shadow grasped both hips and lifted her onto the gurney. She buckled both feet around his legs, draped her hands around his midsection, then tucked her head beneath his chin. For once in her life she didn’t want to be strong. At this particular moment she needed all the strength he offered.
He wrapped his fingers in her hair and twisted, his silent ambush a prod for information.
She lifted her head, held his gaze in a headlock, and let the words cross her lips. “I’m pregnant, Shadow.”
His fingers stilled. Beeps from machinery in the nearby cubicles penetrated the silence. She scanned his face from corner to corner, just in case he dared let some kind of emotion slip. Instead, he resumed the movement in her hair.
She released a hard breath. “Your ultimate coolness is annoying. Please, say something.”
As if he awaited her permission, he smiled one of those incredibly sexy smiles. One that made her think naked. Claire pushed past her own thick haze of arousal and concentrated on the flurry of emotion he now released. Arrogance. Loads of pure, cocky, testosterone-driven satisfaction. She squeezed her legs around his, unable to control her newly wacky hormones from their tailspin.
Finally, his lips met hers in a soft kiss. “Damn I’m good. That didn’t take long at all.”
She managed a half laugh. Of course he’d take all the credit. “Apparently, only a very small window of opportunity existed. Even I didn’t know until they took my blood. A few more days and it wouldn’t have happened.” She groaned and burrowed back into his arms. “You’re such an overachiever.”
She snuggled deeper into his embrace, the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat loud against her ear. “And you said it couldn’t be done.”
“It wasn’t a challenge,” she mumbled.
“Are you happy?”
She lifted her head again and extreme joy split her lips. “More than you’ll ever know.” And then just as quickly, a sudden pang of uncertainty poked her. “Are you?” She eased herself back to evaluate his answer.
She intercepted his mental duh before he kissed her forehead. “I’ve never been happier in my life.”
“Never?”
“Almost never. Who gets to tell Brett?”
“You.”
“He’s your brother.”
“You’re right. We don’t need another murder on top of everything else. I’ll tell him.”
He laughed. “I can handle Steele.”
Claire tilted her head to one side. “I’m beginning to think there’s not much you can’t handle.”
“I’ve told you that for years, Claire Bear.”
She rolled her eyes. “So now get me out of here.”
“Did he release you or are we making a run for it?” Obviously neither explanation bothered him because he lifted her from the cot before she answered.
“Not much else he can do without an x-ray and I won’t risk it. We’ll stop at the desk for discharge orders.” She moved her gaze across his chest. “Unless you distract the nurses.”
He gave her a blank look and shook his head slightly.
“I took your shirt,” she reminded him.
He grinned and led her from the cubicle. “I promise not to interfere.”
Claire shook her head. Sure. She couldn’t fault either him or the nurses. Both his body and his wit rendered him one fine male specimen. And he was all hers.
A
s soon as they entered the waiting area, Brett pulled them into a secluded corner. Mentally she searched for a crack in her brother’s mood, not surprised when her attempts proved useless.
“Sterling called about the bullet.”
Shadow’s eyes narrowed. “Well?”
Brett glanced at her then back at Shadow, a telltale sign he was stalling. And then she saw right through him.
Claire shook her head. “No, he’s wrong.”
“Damn it, Claire.” Brett breathed out hard. “The bullet that hit you was fired from the same gun that killed Gabe Kennedy.”
Her stomach churned. “I refuse to believe it, Brett. I would know.”
“Claire, forensics don’t lie.” Shadow ran a hand across his forehead. “Steele, has anyone notified Brooks?”
“No.”
“Make sure they don’t. In the truck, Claire.”
“No.”
“We don’t have time for your temper tantrum. Get your pretty little ass in my truck. Now.”
“Cut the alpha crap, Shadow.” Claire squeezed her
eyes closed, placed both fingers to her temples, and pressed.
The silence roared. Rage, worry and guilt assaulted her. And then she caught a flash of handcuffs. She opened her eyes and glared at her brother. “Don’t even think about it. I can take you down too.”
Shadow stepped forward and pulled her in the depths of his embrace. Love flowed through his veins, a sore attempt to camouflage the undisputable anger beneath.
“You know you like the alpha.”
Claire allowed herself a smile through her pain. True, she and Shadow’s alpha got along just fine.
“Matt’s not our guy.” She raised her head. “You have to let me find out who.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “No.” He glanced at Brett. “Relocation?”
Claire squeezed his biceps. “No.”
Both men gave her what she knew to be deadly stares, but she persisted. “He doesn’t know where I am. That’s why he followed us from the courthouse.”
“He was there?” Shadow spat.
“I don’t know.” She blew out hard. “I’m just trying to connect the dots.”
Shadow rubbed the pad of his thumb against her shoulder, obviously at least considering her explanation.
“We’ve been there two weeks,” she pushed.
Steele ran a hand through his hair. “Hell. She has a point, Shadow.”
“You know why I don’t want to risk this, Claire.”
She swallowed and snuck a sideways peek at her brother to see if Shadow’s admission caused any concern. Anger still colored Brett’s mood. “Yes. But I need to stay close.”
“Fine, we’ll stay until we hear what Brooks has to say. After that, I won’t make any promises.”
***
Later that evening, Shadow’s emotions pelted her like heavy raindrops as Claire watched him flip channels. Ugly grey smoke surrounded his body and caused her breath to catch. Guilt over the accident. Fury at the invisible force behind it. Cool, collected vibes of retaliation. Although instinct pushed her to wrap her arms around him and kiss it all better, she knew that would only fix him temporarily. Instead, she gave his thoughts a mental poke.
“Out,” he growled. His eyes never left the screen. “You’ll get hurt in there right now.”
She shifted her attention to Brett, stretched out on the sofa, boots crossed at the ankles. The same smokescreen prevented her entry into his mood.
Claire sighed. She couldn’t blame them. Both men were not accustomed to wait and see. No, each simply garnished a weapon and intimidated the enemy into submission.
She pushed herself out of her chair and walked into the kitchen. She gave herself a pat on the back when she opened the freezer and grabbed two frosted glasses. She then added lemonade, her own brand of secret weapon.
She approached her brother first, confident she’d have the upper hand in any argument he fired at her. He lifted an eyebrow, took her offering and then cast a brief glance at Shadow. Most likely to see if Shadow noticed who surrendered first.
“Thanks, Claire.”
“You’re welcome.”
She stepped between Shadow and the television and then extended the icy glass. Suddenly the grey cloud hovering over his head dissipated and a smirk crossed his lips. “Thank you.”
She leaned down and pressed her lips against his. “You’re welcome.”
Brett pushed his feet to the floor and then sat up. He patted the cushion beside him in a silent command. Claire plopped next to her brother and laid her head against his muscled biceps. Damn this madman.
He draped his arm across her shoulders and tucked her in his hold. Strong, never-wavering vibes of comfort soothed her burnt nerve endings. A tiny sigh escaped her as his iron bands of protection threatened her discomfort into submission. This too was many of the times in her life she knew she would never be whole without her twin.
For several minutes she thought she might actually bask in peace until Shadow’s anxiety speared her shields.
Loud, deep rumbling from the driveway filled the air and drowned out the television.
Shadow stood and clicked off the unit. “Brooks is here.”
He slung open the door before the detective knocked and she fully expected him to yank Matt inside by his collar. Instead, Shadow signaled the other man in with a nod.
Claire slipped free of her brother’s hold and stood. She motioned to an empty chair. “Take a load off. Can I get you something to drink? I have lemonade.”
“No thanks, Claire. I don’t want to bother you long.” Matt took a seat. “Have you been able to rest?”
She snuck a peek at Shadow, still poised to strike, and then gave Matt a forced smile. “That’s not exactly possible.”
The detective winced. “Sorry.”
“No apology necessary. It’s hard for even me to understand sometimes.”
“Any leads, Brooks?” Claire intercepted the I-doubt-it tone of Shadow’s question.
“Not one. No witnesses, no evidence. We’ve got officers attempting to identify the other vehicle but there are probably thousands of brown sedans out there.”
His intense anger stung Claire like angry bees. She rubbed her arms and attempted to distract him. “What did you bring me?”
“I brought a few of Gabe’s things.”
She eased herself to sit on the floor opposite to Matt’s chair.
He frowned and moved to stand. “Take my chair.”
She smiled, genuinely this time. “No, I need to sit here.”
“No emotion,” Shadow grumbled from behind her.
She took a deep breath to clear her mind then turned to Shadow and Brett. “Go in the kitchen, both of you. I need to concentrate.”
Brett paused at Matt’s chair and extended a hand. “Brett Steele, by the way.”
Matt grinned and shook his hand. “Thanks for your help.”
Claire waited until Shadow and her brother sat at the kitchen table then crossed her legs indian-style. “Okay. Give me one item at a time.”
Matt passed her a shiny, gold object. Waves of authority and respect seeped into her skin. Gabe’s badge. She placed the metal flat against her palm and closed her fingers on top. Courage vibrated her nerve endings and almost rattled her teeth. Bravery roared so loud her eardrums protested. And then thin ribbons of fear crept through her fingertips. Pain and heartache strangled her. A shadowy figure lurked at the edge of despair, laughing at the top of his lungs. Claire opened her fist to block any further reading.
“He kept this in his pocket,” she told the detective as she passed it back.
Matt nodded and extended a black t-shirt. She grasped the soft cotton material with both hands and lifted it to her face. Before she opened her mind, she took a deep breath through her nose and then frowned.
“Gabe didn’t smoke cigarettes.”
Detective Brooks only nodded again in agreement.
She inhaled again and this ti
me a whiff of peppermint burnt her sinus passages. She lowered the garment and smirked.
“You contaminated the evidence, Detective.” She tossed the shirt into his lap. “I thought you quit.”
“Damn.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I did until about an hour ago. Since I drove my own car, I figured what the hell.”
Claire dodged the blades of his frustration. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”
“Yes, it has.”
She motioned to the last object he held. “What else?”
He handed her a gold pen and she twirled the cylinder between her fingers to allow the emotion a wider path. Her fingers heated as the pen glided over her skin and she traced several slight indentions in the barrel. Tiny, electrical shocks of pain traveled the surface, building in intensity, until suddenly a wave of pure torture broke free and raced through her veins, exploding in her head. A wave so large and dark she could only call it death.
She closed her eyes, dropped the pen, and placed her fingers against her temples in an effort to dull the sensation. Her blood pulsed and threatened to loosen her eyes from their sockets. She pulled air across her starving lungs until the sound of marching combat boots assaulted her eardrums. Then the ebony darkness faded, replaced by sunshine and the distinct tart odor of lemons.
She opened her eyes to find Shadow squatted next to her, his facial features blank, his mind closed, but his overwhelming healing power reaching for her.
“This is ridiculous.” She eyed the object like a venomous snake. “Gabe was not murdered with this pen.”
She expected questions, ones she could not answer. Yet, not one of the three men spoke.
She moved her gaze to Matt. “It’s engraved. Who gave it to him?”
Something between caution and confusion caused his brow to furrow. “I did.”
“Did he carry it with him that night?”
“No. I found it when I cleaned out his desk.”
Claire sighed. “I need to think about this.”
Matt raised himself from the chair. “I don’t understand how the pen is connected.”
“It may not be connected at all.” His immense worry caused her stomach to turn. “Sometimes I can’t help much.”
