by Kari Cole
“Say your piece”—Luke held up a hand—“but don’t press your luck.”
“Whatever, dickhead. You can’t treat Izzy like just any other female werewolf.”
“Why? Because she grew up with humans?”
“That and—” Freddie sighed and shook his head. “Izzy’s been through a lot. Hell, too much, man. Way too much. I mean, any kid who winds up in foster care is gonna be dragging some extra-large trunks of emotional baggage. But Bess and Izzy? They showed up at our house lugging a tractor-trailer’s worth of crap behind them. They never told me much about what their lives were like before they went into the system. But it was crystal clear that foster care was the best thing that ever happened to them.”
A cold knot formed in Luke’s gut. “Why?”
“After their parents died, the girls went to live with their grandmother. They didn’t talk about her. Ever. But there were a lot of nightmares. The kind where you wake everyone in the house with your screams.” Freddie rubbed his eyes. When he looked back at Luke, his expression was bleak. “They have scars.” He swallowed convulsively. “Both of ’em. Burn marks, too. Like a fucking brand!”
Dear goddess.
The salty, acrid scent of grief followed Freddie as he paced. “Guess I should say Izzy has scars. Bess... I was home on leave and Bess was supposed to come over for dinner with the family. When she didn’t show or answer her phone, Dad and I went over to her apartment. She was an artist—photography, sculpture, painting, you name it. Sometimes she’d lose track of time when she was working. Turn off her phone so she wouldn’t be disturbed. It drove Mom freaking nuts.
“Bess had this loft in a converted meatpacking plant on the South Side. Dad hammered on her damned huge metal door. I’ll never forget that sound. Stupid, huh? All the horrible shit from that day, and that’s what sticks with me, the thing that fucks me up at night. Dad callin’ Bess’s name, bangin’ away on that big, old gong. Of course, we knew something was wrong. You just know sometimes.”
Luke nodded. He remembered that feeling, too.
“Dad didn’t have a key,” Freddie said. “Because sharing that much of herself would have been too fuckin’ much for Bess. Guess I know why now, huh? So I had to go roust the manager. Good thing the guy lived in the building because Dad was about to get the tire iron from his car to bust the door down.
“The instant that door opened—” Freddie choked and Luke squeezed his shoulder. “She used an old Smith & Wesson revolver. A .38. God, the mess.”
Luke couldn’t imagine that horror. He knew what it was to see someone you loved dead, but finding your sister, your daughter...and knowing that she’d done it to herself.
“Izzy thinks she’s a monster,” Freddie said, his voice rough as bark. “What Bess did cemented that belief for her.”
Monster. That word again. A chill ran down Luke’s back. “How so?”
Freddie sighed. “I loved Bess, but she could be a real bitch. She called Izzy on a video chat where she not only confessed to losing control of her wolf and killing a man, but showed Izzy the freaking body.”
“Jesus,” Luke said. “Who was it? How—”
“I don’t know, man. Izzy doesn’t know either. All I can tell you is there was no one else in her loft. No sign there had been anyone else killed there. Whoever cleaned up after her did a real thorough job. The cops didn’t find any sign another body’d been there either.”
“Wait. Are you saying Isabelle saw her sister commit suicide?”
Freddie swallowed like he had a lump in his throat. “Yes.”
“Jesus,” Luke whispered. How many nightmares did his mate have to deal with every night? This morning there’d been dark circles under her eyes. Perhaps her pallor wasn’t due entirely to her diet.
“They were twins, you know,” Freddie said as he sank onto a stool. He looked and sounded exhausted, too. Trauma did that to you. “Identical. In everything but personality. From the moment I met them, Izzy was always the one who went out of her way to make things go smoothly. And Bess...” He shook his head. “Let’s just say that Bess got her jollies juggling dynamite.”
“Wild child, huh?”
“Trouble with a capital T.” A sad smile tipped Freddie’s mouth. “And troubled. Lots of school suspensions, fights, lost jobs. Now that I think about it, the fights were the one thing that made Izzy lose her cool with Bess. Guess I know why now.”
“Guess so. Anger and adrenaline can trigger a change, especially without any training or support to fall back on.”
Freddie nodded, a faraway look in his eyes, as if he were lost in a memory. He seemed smaller than he had moments ago, and Luke’s heart ached for this man who’d become part of his pack.
“I’m sorry about Bess,” Luke said. “But you have to know I’d never hurt Isabelle. She’s my mate.”
“Maybe not intentionally. But you can’t deny that things are less than kosher around here. Murders, disappearances. Rissa’s wound so tight, she practically squeaks when she walks.”
It sucked when Freddie was right. Still, “I’ll protect Isabelle. With my life.” His wolf snarled in agreement, fangs bared. Goddess help anyone who tried to harm her.
“I know you’ll do everything you can to protect her physically. But you can’t promise nothing will happen. And being here, around other weres, around you... You’re pushing all sorts of buttons. The kind that trigger mushroom clouds.”
“She’s my mate,” he repeated. How could that be a bad thing?
“I know,” Freddie said, and the pity in his eyes made the wolf pace a furious loop in Luke’s head, lip curled, skin twitching. “Whatever the hell is going on, though, it’s dangerous. It might be more than Izzy can mentally handle.”
“What do you want?”
“You can’t make the choice for her.”
“What?”
“You might have to let her go.”
Inside, Luke and his wolf roared.
“If she chooses, you have to. Or it might destroy her,” Freddie said, digging the knife deeper.
Never! Stalking across the kitchen, Luke dug both hands into his hair. “You’re asking the impossible.”
“I know.”
A door opened down the hall and part of Luke’s heart closed, slammed shut by the knowledge that for his mate, he might have to give up everything he’d ever longed for.
* * *
Can I take care of myself? Grrr.
Izzy screeched to a halt in front of her bedroom door. Great, now she was even growling like Luke did, the domineering asshole.
Obviously, he thought it was his duty to take care of everyone and everything. Including her. Well, she’d be damned if she’d be anyone’s obligation. Besides, depending on someone like that was a good way to get blown out of the sky.
She rubbed her gritty eyes. He’d made her breakfast, damn it. Hell, he’d been...sweet. Kind of. Why couldn’t he just be an ass all the time?
Not that her own behavior where he was concerned was anywhere near rational. Last night, she’d tried to convince Freddie he was in danger. Werewolves were absolute predators and could turn on him at any moment. Then she got all hot and bothered by the freaking Alpha wolf.
When Luke entered a room, her senses sparked like a live wire. He terrified her with his glowing eyes and rumbling growl. Incited her to violence with his high-handed ways. God help her, he made her want to wrap herself in his strong arms just to breathe him in.
For chrissakes, she hadn’t even known him for twenty-four hours.
Izzy sighed. Feeling something more than complete indifference for a man was a novel experience. But an Alpha werewolf ranked pretty low on her fantasy date list—somewhere near stalkers, terrorists, and Green Bay Packers fans.
And how the hell had she forgotten about subbing for Freddie while he was on his honeymoon? Forgotten. Ha
! More like shoved it out of her lousy mind. Denial wasn’t just a river in Egypt.
She checked her watch. No more time to stomp around, wallowing in doubt and fear. She had a job to do. Hefting her backpack onto her shoulder, she left her room and headed out Freddie’s back door to wait for him by his SUV.
The rising sun bathed the towering mountain range to the west in hues of gold, and the sky was a soft pink, brightening to blue. A new coat of snow glittered on everything like fairy dust. On the second-to-last porch step, her leg went out from under her and the world tilted. Strong hands snatched her arms and hauled her upright against a solid wall of warm stone.
Her mouth went dry—not stone. Not a wall either. She looked up into Luke’s clear green eyes.
“Are you all right?” he asked. Demanded.
She tried to push him away and ignore the little voice in her head telling her to pull him closer. Failed. His clean, grassy scent filled her head. “Yes,” she said, a little breathless.
He looked her over. “Are you sure?”
“Fine. I just slipped.”
Finally, she got a grip on her sanity and shook off his hands. He let her go and she brushed past him to walk to the SUV. No need to turn around to know that Luke followed right on her heels. All the hair on her body had risen as if drawn to him like a static charge. If she kept playing with him, there was no doubt she’d get a nasty shock. Hadn’t she had enough of those? Hadn’t Bess shown her exactly what happens when you get complacent around werewolves?
She opened the back door and tossed her backpack on the floor.
“Isabelle.”
She turned and sucked in a breath, stumbling back against the car. Luke stood less than a foot away, but it was the pain in his eyes that turned her knees to rubber.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning. “I can smell that you’re upset. What is it?”
“That’s just creepy, you know. Scenting out my feelings like some bloodhound.”
He didn’t respond to her taunt. “Is it your stomach?” He reached for her hand, which was, of course, pressing against her aching middle. “You shouldn’t fly today. I’ll call Sarah out here to give you an exam.”
“Screw you,” she said without much heat. Why wasn’t she angrier? If she wanted to be bossed around, she would’ve stayed in the Army.
Luke leaned even closer. His minty breath brushed over her cheek, raising goose bumps. “With pleasure, sugar.”
“I meant yourself.”
“Not nearly as much fun.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to not laugh. “Maybe I’m not being clear. I am not one of your flock, Alpha. I don’t take your orders.”
On either side of her, he pressed his arms to the roof of the SUV, caging her with his body. He leaned into her, searing her from chest to thigh. “I told you before, sugar.” He sniffed her hair. “I’m a wolf. Not a dog. Definitely not a sheep.”
Her heart pounded. “A predator.”
Baring bright white teeth in a slow grin, he made every inch of skin on her body flush with tingling heat. “Hunter,” he agreed. “I love to chase things.” She shivered and his grin widened. “Told you that before, too.”
Oh, jeez. The weird buzzing started in her head again.
What the hell was happening to her?
The back door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows, and Izzy jumped. She’d been so focused on Luke, she’d forgotten where they were. He sighed and eased away from her as Freddie clomped down the porch steps.
“Careful there, Dodd,” Luke said, his pupils ringed with gold. “You’ll break something slamming doors like that.”
Freddie shot him the kind of sneering glare that started bar fights. “That’s the plan.” He looked at Izzy. “Ready to go?”
“Uh, sure,” she said.
Face set like stone, Luke said, “Have a good flight.” Then he took a step away from her. Another. As he did, his frown deepened and Izzy felt as if all the heat had leached from her body.
She opened the SUV door and slid into the passenger’s seat. “I’ll see you when you get back,” Luke said. He stroked a finger down her cheek then closed the door, leaving her twitchy and confused. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t raring to fly away.
As she buckled her seatbelt, Freddie put the car in gear, shaking his head. She felt Luke’s intense gaze follow them down the driveway.
Why did it feel like she’d left something behind?
Chapter Eleven
Luke hated “his” office in the pack house. Everywhere he looked in the large, sunny room, he could still see his father. Sitting behind the big white oak desk, poring over financial statements or answering calls. Pacing in front of the French doors that led to the deck overlooking the lake. In the leather chair next to the fireplace, elbows resting on his knees, listening to and advising a packmate.
Goddess, Luke missed him.
His father had been a giant of a male, literally and metaphorically. He always knew the right thing to say or do, how to put people at ease. Humans and lycanthropes alike came to him for counsel. He’d been everyone’s friend, father, and favorite uncle. No one dared challenge him in a fight. No one wanted to. Who could compete?
And here Luke was, trying to fill his shoes. It was ridiculous.
Usually he chose to meet with people in his own cabin or to go to them. But today the situation demanded the Alpha meet a threat in his territory. It didn’t matter if Luke felt like a fraud every time he set foot in the room. This house and this office were the seats of power in the Cabinet Mountains, and he would damn well buck up.
Seated at the head of the conference table, Luke fantasized about flipping it over. The physical effort and resulting crash would tamp down his fraying temper, but it wouldn’t end this meeting with his Council of Elders any faster.
“What about Charlie Picket?” he asked. “Any luck finding out how Branson Development convinced him to sell all his land to them? I’m having a hard time believing a steady family man would just up and leave town without a word to his children or friends.”
Terry Macomber grimaced and stroked his graying goatee. “Since Branson won’t say and no one can find old Charlie either, no. But like I told you before, all the paperwork is in order and legitimate. I checked it myself.”
“So are all of Branson’s filings for the site with the Forest Service and the state Department of Environmental Quality. Rissa and I have gone over the impact statements a hundred times. There’s nothing there we can use as leverage to stop him.”
“That land is ours. They never should have been able to get this far,” Terry said, glaring at Luke. The unspoken If our Alpha was up to the job came through loud and clear.
Luke’s hackles rose, but he suppressed the snarl building in his throat. Protecting the pack and its territory was his primary responsibility. Letting a mining operation be built in what should be untouchable, federally protected lands—their lands—would be a major failure. One his father never would have allowed.
“Should-haves never solved a thing,” Mom said. “Right now, we need to deal with what is.”
“His kids still haven’t heard from him?” Luke asked.
“No. They’re very worried about him, too,” Marianne said. “One of his daughters came into the shop over the weekend. The family is considering hiring a private investigator.”
Luke nodded. It always surprised him how much information Rissa’s mother could gather in her corner boutique. Apparently women liked to gossip over clothing purchases.
“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Stefan Lundgren asked. “That land was just the most convenient place for the mine’s entrance, not the only one. If Branson hadn’t bought Charlie’s place, they simply would have acquired something else.”
Terry harrumphed. Luke scowled at him. “What would you have m
e do? Kill Branson?”
Terry flashed his teeth in a taunting smile, but Stefan laid a restraining hand on the other male. “Of course not,” Stefan said. He eyed Terry with blue eyes turned steel. “That would be foolish.”
Another harrumph.
Inside, Luke’s wolf stalked, his ears cocked, ready and waiting for a challenge.
Stefan cleared his throat. “As frustrating as the situation with Branson Development is, it’s not the reason that Sheriff Ellis is here today, which I think we can agree is more pressing.”
Luke gave him a nod of thanks.
“Explain to me again,” Marianne said, “why we are being briefed on this.”
“Mom, a man was murdered,” Rissa said.
“Yes, yes. A tragedy. But that’s a matter for the sheriff, not the pack. Eric Conroy was human.”
“Correct,” Ellis said, his face as readable as stone. “But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t killed by one of us. The facts suggest that it was either lycanthropes or humans who are familiar with us.”
“How so?” Stefan asked.
Ellis opened a file folder and passed around photographs of the crime scene. “The entire area, including the trail in and out of the woods and the body itself, was covered in citronella oil. It was impossible to smell anything else.”
Liz Crandall leaned forward in her chair. “What? You couldn’t detect anything useful?” The no-nonsense, fifty-something grandmother was Luke’s best tracker and head of the pack’s search-and-rescue team. She followed scent trails in her sleep. Being unable to do what came so naturally to her must be unfathomable.
“Correct,” Ellis said again.
From behind Luke, where he leaned against the credenza, Dean said, “Never experienced anything like it. I can still smell it. It saturated everything. Made my wolf insane.”
Luke’s, too. He’d had a headache since last night. Of course, today’s events weren’t helping matters. He kneaded the knot at the back of his neck. “Conroy’s neck was broken clean through. A strong human with certain skills could have done that. Possibly. But the odds are a shifter did.”
