Fierce Informer (Sierra Pride Book 6)

by Liza Street

  The server sauntered over with their whiskeys. Justine downed the first one and handed the empty glass to the server.

  “Don’t you see? Sending me away is exactly what Nan did. She sent me away from the people I was tied to the strongest. Then in my messed-up way, I put it together that you can just as easily send me away from you like that, and it would—ugh, this sounds pathetic so let’s pretend it’s the whiskey talking—it would destroy me.”

  “I could never send you away, Justine. Don’t you know what we have?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, too fast,” she said, holding onto the table and blinking hard. “No, what do we have?”

  He’d never seen a cuter drunk woman in his life. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and nuzzle against her neck. “We’re mates, cariña. This week, with how we’ve stayed apart from each other? I’ve been trying to give you space, and it’s making my lion crazy. All I want is to be with you.”

  “Was so jealous,” she said. “About Laura. I wanted to do violent things to you both.”

  “Yeah?” He couldn’t keep from smiling.

  “And she had a nickname for you, too,” Justine said. “It wasn’t fair. When I gave you one, you made me feel special.”

  “She only uses it to annoy me. I liked you nicknaming me. It was genuine.”

  She sighed. “I’m tired. When can we go home?”

  “Soon. Wait here.”

  He got up and asked the guys if they were ready, or if he and Justine should try to get a cab because she wanted to leave.

  “Nah, we should go. Mom wants us to go to church tomorrow with Barrett,” Rafe said. “I’m good to drive now.”

  Laura grinned saucily. “I’m good to drive, too, and I’m taking Dristan with me.”

  Dristan gave Mateo a questioning look, like, Is this okay? Mateo nodded and gave him a thumb’s up.

  They paid their tab and Mateo held Justine’s hand as they left Hart’s. She leaned against him. The cold night air seemed to wake her up, though, because she laughed when he picked her up and carried her to Rafe’s car.

  “What are you doing?” Rafe sent him a dark look.

  “I’m lucky,” Mateo said. “Can you live with that?”

  Not waiting for an answer, Mateo climbed in the back with Justine. She sat in the middle, leaning against him, even though there was plenty of space.

  Frasier plugged his iPod into the stereo and trip hop blared, the beats heavy and hypnotic. They cruised over the twisty mountain roads.

  “Smells like sex in here,” Rafe shouted over the music, rolling down a window.

  “Dude, we’re not doing anything, and I know you can hear the truth in my voice,” Mateo said.

  He sniffed the air. It didn’t smell like sex at all. Rafe was being an ass, like usual. He rolled his window down, though, just to shut Rafe up.

  Justine giggled, her fingers grazing Mateo’s thigh, up toward his cock. He thought of pushing her away, but decided he didn’t really care about Rafe at the moment, or Frasier, or anyone else except Justine.

  He leaned down to kiss her cheek, but she turned her head, and her lips met his. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste of her. Whiskey and rain after a drought.

  She deepened the kiss, but Rafe growled, so Mateo pulled away from her lips. He moved one hand to the front of her waist, though, touching her hip, her thigh. She squirmed closer to him, putting his hand beneath her sweater, against the soft skin of her stomach.

  They could not get home soon enough.

  eleven

  Justine felt the best kind of drunk—her head a little floaty, her body warm. She was buzzing with desire, tugging Mateo closer. If Rafe and Frasier weren’t in the front seat, she’d be straddling Mateo’s lap right now. As it was, she’d have to be content with his hand up her shirt, fingers grazing lightly over the lace of her bra, teasing.

  She teased back, stroking him through his jeans. Looking up, she saw his eyes flutter shut. He was just as affected as she was, and it made her feel powerful.

  He opened his eyes again and looked down at her. “You’re beautiful.”

  The car jerked to a halt in front of the resort.

  “Aren’t we taking Frasier home?” Justine asked.

  “Nah, I’m crashing here for tonight,” Frasier said. “My place is too out of the way, so I’ll drive back tomorrow.”

  She nodded, vaguely paying attention, aware only of Mateo’s hand sliding up and down her leg.

  Rafe exchanged a look with Mateo. “If I catch a whiff of semen in here tomorrow, you’re a dead lion.”

  “We’ll leave the windows open, then,” Justine said with a laugh.

  Cursing, Rafe walked away.

  “We should go inside,” Mateo whispered.

  She pulled his head down so she could kiss him, twining her tongue with his, feeling his soft lips against hers. “Sure,” she said, “but there’s something I need to do, first.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s that?” His breath hitched on the last word, because she’d unbuttoned his jeans.

  Climbing down to the floorboards, she kneeled between his legs. “This.”

  His cock sprang free of his pants, and she held it in one hand to bring it into her mouth.

  He moaned above her, completely at her mercy as she licked and teased him. “Oh, cariña, oh, Justine…”

  She grinned around him, and reached down to unbutton her own jeans. Pushing her hand inside her panties, she touched herself, moving her hips forward with every stroke, tasting Mateo’s salty skin, his desire.

  “Justine,” he said, moaning again. “I want you so bad. Te quiero, mi amor, oh.”

  Letting him go with a soft popping sound, she struggled out of her jeans and underwear, then she climbed onto the seat, facing the back of the car. “Come and get me then,” she said, looking over her shoulder, shocked by her own audacity.

  What had come over her? She wasn’t a virgin by any means, and she’d had flings with resort guests, but she’d never been so vocal or adventurous. Mateo was bringing out something new in her.

  Without pausing, Mateo pushed his jeans down further and got behind her. They laughed, breathless, while they maneuvered to get the position right, and then he was at her entrance, pushing in, and it felt so perfect. She pushed back to sheathe him fully, and then they were moving together, their bodies one, in a dance that was as ancient as it was wonderful.

  *

  The lodge was empty when Justine woke the next morning, and for a moment she wondered where everyone had gone. Then she remembered, vaguely, Rafe talking about church.

  She wasn’t Catholic so she didn’t attend with the family. A quiet Sunday morning—this was the time that she usually went for a solitary run in the woods.

  She pulled herself out of bed, her body sore in places that reminded her exactly what she and Mateo had done last night, and she felt a new wave of lust rush through her. They hadn’t told his parents yet, but they would soon, he’d promised last night. In the meantime, they both thought it was best to sleep in their separate rooms.

  Looking at her phone to see what time it was, she saw a text from Laura. Here’s the number from my college friend. She got in touch with them first, and they said they’ll talk to you, so call whenever.

  The text came with a contact file, and after texting a thank-you back to Laura, Justine dialed the number.

  It took a long time for someone to pick up, and when she did, her voice sounded harassed. “Hello?”

  “Hi, my name is Justine Fournier. I’m looking for Mr. or Mrs. Valerio?”

  “This is Mrs. Valerio,” the woman said. “I don’t want any legal trouble for my daughter.”

  “What? No, of course not. I just wanted to ask about your daughter’s family.”

  “Her old pack is dead. They can’t get custody, and neither can you. Goodbye.”

  “Wait—wait, please. How did they die?”

  “A fire.”

  Justine stood there, the phone in her hand b
eeping after Mrs. Valerio hung up on her. How was this possible?

  With shaking hands, Justine dialed Laura’s number.

  “What did you find?” Laura asked.

  “So Barrett’s family died in a fire,” Justine said.

  “Right,” Laura said slowly.

  The sound of a car pulling up the drive reached Justine’s ears. The Coronas were back early from church. Good—she needed to talk to them as soon as possible.

  “This could be nothing,” Justine said.

  “Justine. What did you find?”

  Justine’s heart thumped wildly. “The wolf pup up north—her pack died in a fire, too.”

  “So what are you thinking?”

  “I don’t know what to think, but something is definitely up.”

  “Well,” Laura said, speaking slowly as if testing out a theory, “do you think Gunser is killing entire prides and packs and putting these kids up for adoption? It would make sense with the timeline—he could have been planning that fire, but he wanted to make sure Barrett would have a home lined up first. So he came to the Coronas and said the fire already happened.”

  “That’s a pretty wild accusation,” Justine said.

  “I know, but can you think of another one?”

  She remembered Mateo’s idea. “The kid’s traumatized, and he mixed up the weeks?”

  “And it’s a coincidence that a group death happened to the wolf pup’s family, too?” Laura asked. “Ugh, I feel terrible for recommending this guy to the Coronas.”

  The front door opened, but Justine didn’t hear the family coming in—she only heard the footsteps of one person. “I gotta go,” she told Laura. “I think we have a guest without a reservation.”

  “Sure thing,” Laura said. “You can send the guest over here—we have a vacancy if they don’t mind driving a couple of hours.”

  When Justine got downstairs, though, her heart froze in her chest, and her feet didn’t want to work. None other than Al Gunser stood at the counter.

  “Ah, hello,” he said when he saw her. “Miss…Fournier, is it? We met once before.”

  She remembered—she’d been standing at the reception desk when he’d come in one evening to ask for Gloria and Julian. Justine had disliked him on sight, from his dark blond hair, slick with some kind of gel, to his polished black shoes. She could smell he was a shifter, but she couldn’t tell what kind. Something about him had made her wonder if rat shifters existed.

  “Yes, Mr. Gunser,” she said, staring at him. He appeared just as unpleasant in the morning light. “What can I do for you today?”

  He looked around. “I was hoping to find you, actually.”

  “What do you want with me?” she blurted.

  “I simply want to make your acquaintance.”

  She shook her head, puzzled. “That’s a lie,” she said. “How are you able to lie without me smelling it?”

  “Aha,” he said with a grin. “The magic of hypnosis and self-hypnosis. I can believe it, so I can sell it.”

  Her heart thudded in her chest. Was he insane? “What do you really want with me?”

  “Well, I heard from the Valerios last night. They were expecting a call from Justine Fournier, so I rushed down here. It sounds like someone hasn’t been minding her own business.”

  twelve

  Mateo surreptitiously checked his watch. Mass was almost over, and not a second too soon. He’d been reluctant to leave Justine last night, and he’d desperately wanted to see her at breakfast this morning, but he’d felt he should let her sleep. Now, though, his yearning to see her had taken on a desperate, anxious tinge.

  He couldn’t shake the idea that something was wrong.

  As Mass let out, he herded his family toward his mom’s Jeep. His mom turned back toward the church. “But I wanted to speak with Rick—I want to introduce Barrett—”

  “No time,” Mateo said. “Sorry, but I really need to get back. We’ll introduce Barrett next week.” He threw his arm around Barrett’s shoulders. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  Barrett gave him a shy smile. “Nope. You’re gonna take me fishing.”

  “Ay, now there are three of you, and your father and I are outnumbered,” his mom complained, but her dark eyes were soft, and there was a small smile on her face. Mateo could tell she didn’t really mind.

  Rafe sat on the other side of Barrett in the back seat. Rafe hadn’t spoken to Mateo since last night, and while it seemed like things might be okay between them, Mateo couldn’t tell.

  They’d work it out after he made sure Justine was all right. He hated the nagging feeling in his stomach, and he wished his mom would drive faster.

  When they got home, Mateo leaped out of the car. “Someone’s been here,” he said, smelling the air.

  “It smells like Al Gunser,” Rafe said.

  Mateo swore, and his mom covered Barrett’s ears.

  Running into the lodge, Mateo called, “Justine! Justine!”

  No answer. He ran around back, yelling her name again. His family met him there.

  “Mateo, tell me what’s going on,” his dad said.

  “I should never have left her alone,” Mateo said, panting. “Look, I know Gunser brought Barrett to us, but something’s not right with that man, and Justine was looking into it. I think—I think he might have taken her.”

  “Taken her?” his mom asked. “Taken her where?”

  “I don’t know.” He paced back and forth on the porch. His lion wanted to get out of his body right now and search for Justine, but if Gunser had come in a car, Mateo’s lion would be of little help.

  “M’ijo,” his mom said, touching his arm. “Calm down. We’ll find her. I’ll look for her inside.”

  “She’s not in there, don’t you see?” Mateo said. Then he forced himself to breathe. “No, you’re right. It’s best to be sure. Most likely Gunser brought a car, but the rest of us can spread out around the house, to be sure she’s not on the property.”

  Rafe walked alongside Mateo, and the others circled around the other side of the house.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” Rafe said. “This sucks, and I know I’ve been a jealous asshole.”

  Mateo clapped him on the shoulder. “Yeah, brother. I’m sorry, too. I’ve been a self-righteous asshole.”

  “Glad we got that out of the way. Now let’s find your girl.”

  thirteen

  The van sped along the highway. From her position tied up on the floor, Justine couldn’t see much more than the occasional tree. She’d just woken up; she didn’t know how long they’d been driving. The last thing she remembered was being shot with a dart gun that Gunser pulled out of his pocket. The dart must have been drugged.

  There was a gag in her mouth, and at least it tasted like clean cloth, but it was too tight. Her eyes watered. Why had she let him get so close? She shouldn’t have even gone downstairs.

  How long until the Coronas came back from church and noticed her missing? Were they searching for her now?

  Tears blurred her vision.

  The sun was high in the sky, so Gunser and Justine were probably an hour or two from the Corona property.

  She tried to summon her lion. If she could shift, she could tear out of these bindings. But no matter how much she tried to give her body over to the stretch of shifting, nothing happened. She screamed in frustration. The sound was muted, but Gunser’s shoulders tensed.

  He pulled over and turned in his seat to face her. “Oh, good, you’re awake.”

  He clambered to the rear of the van and pulled the gag out of Justine’s mouth.

  She winced, moving her tongue against the sore corners of her lips.

  “How did you even find out so quickly?” Justine asked.

  “As soon as the Valerios knew someone wanted to talk to them about their adopted pup, they let me know so I could handle any legal issues.”

  That explained Mrs. Valerio’s vitriol over the phone. Gunser had probably scared them about custody and told t
hem to call in the event of inquiries.

  “Here you go,” Gunser said, holding up a syringe.

  “What is that?” Justine asked, trying to scoot away. There was nowhere to go in the back of the van, though. She was trapped.

  “It’s not a harmful concoction, don’t worry. There are two parts to it. The antimorph serum will prevent you from shifting into your lion. You’ve already had a little bit of that, from that dart I shot you with.”

  “What’s the other part?” she said.

  He jabbed her with the needle, pressing it into her thigh through her jeans. “A drug that makes you more susceptible to hypnosis, my dear. Everything will be easier if this looks like a suicide. Now I’d like you to relax. Relax and think of a dark gray fog.”

  Justine floated in a gray haze, inside a darkened room full of windows. Each window showed her a reflection of a terrible experience of her life, and in each one, she was alone. Nobody comforted her—not Aunt Nan, not Cora, not her brothers. Mateo turned his back on her, and before he did, his face was full of disgust—disgust directed at Justine.

  Her heart felt empty, bereft, and she didn’t try to disguise her sobs.

  She was vaguely aware of being lifted from the van and carried.

  The voice continued to direct her thoughts. “You’re feeling unhappy and alone. But I know a way out for you. There’s an easy way to do it, with this knife…”

  She shook her head, trying to clear away his words. No, she was happy. She was loved, and she loved herself. Why had she been thinking otherwise?

  Gunser made a tsking sound from behind the gray haze that held her in thrall. “Only one other person has resisted so much as to put me in this kind of position. Funny—she was a relation of yours.”

  Justine’s mind raced, and she pushed back against the haze. She was on the ground, and grasses tickled her knees. Focus on these details, she thought. Focus on what’s real. “A relation of mine? Who?”

  “Oh, I think you’ll figure it out. I don’t actually go around killing groups of shifters, you know. Barrett’s family, for example, is alive and happy. Well, not happy, because they believe their youngest son was brutally murdered in the woods near their home.”

  Brutally murdered…woods. The grieving family of a child.