“Bastard!” Max spat. “Comms were out.”
“What did you do with the guards?” Joe asked, with another tug.
Max gasped. If he ever got free, he’d tear his buddy a new asshole. “Not a fucking thing… Didn’t encounter any.”
“How convenient,” Joe sneered. “And you didn’t question that fact?”
“I sent Pia…to round up the guards. Slipped out the gate…wanted to keep their trail.”
Joe wound the chain rope over and over his fist, coming closer. He leaned down, close enough so Max could see the golden discs of his eyes and his vampire fangs. “And did you find them, ole buddy?”
“I think so.”
The chain held by Dylan tightened.
Max cursed. “I transformed. I remember impressions…of wolves. Several surrounding me…after I’d chased them a while.”
“You were surrounded by wolves?” Joe asked, his voice low and deadly. “Must have been a family reunion. You don’t have a scratch on you.”
“I…don’t…know why…they wouldn’t fight me,” Max panted, trying to draw in air past the constricting metal. “I smell blood.”
Joe slammed his side. “Nice try, fucking wolf. Tell me you don’t know Darcy’s dead!”
Max felt light-headed, ready to pass out, but turned to stare. “What the fuck?” His throat closed so tight, the words were forced.
“She’s dead, were!” Joe shouted, his face red, tears filling his eyes. “And I’m gonna fucking kill you myself!”
“You think I—” The look on Joe’s face said he didn’t care if Max had been the one to hurt Darcy or not. He wanted blood.
“Pia?” Max whispered. “Pia’s…all right?” He struggled to get to his feet.
“Stay on your knees and clasp your hands behind your back.” This came from Navarro, who’d watched the whole inquiry in silence. “Loosen the chain a little, Joe. I don’t want him dead…yet.”
Max glared at his rescuer, but complied with his orders, and when the chain relented, he dragged air into his burning lungs.
A radio squawked. “Dylan!” Emmy’s voice broke over the air.
Dylan unclipped a radio from his belt with his free hand. “What’s up, Em? Did you reach the limo?”
“Yeah.” Emmy paused to clear her throat. “But tell Navarro the driver and Sidney are both out cold. And Dylan, Dr. Deats and his colleagues are gone.”
“Mother-fuckin’ bastards,” Joe swore.
Dylan aimed a deadly glare at Max and spoke into the radio. “Hot-foot it back here—”
“Already pulling through the gates, baby.”
Navarro’s eyes closed momentarily, and then he stood. “Bring everyone here,” he said, enunciating so precisely the Spanish inflections in his voice sliced the air. “Lock down this place. And then I want everyone in this room. Get this dog some clothes.” He left in the direction of the front of the house as tires squealed in the distance.
Max slumped to his knees. “Darcy was killed by a wolf?”
Joe didn’t answer, but his breaths grew choppy.
“I swear, I didn’t know. I wasn’t part of this.”
“Save it for someone who gives a damn. Far as I’m concerned, you’re a walking dead man.”
Bad Moon Rising Page 10
