Bengal's Heart (21 page)

He had been in a better mood the day before, which wasn’t saying much.

“I wasn’t going to ask about Banks.” She waved the subject away. “It’s been a while, Myron, maybe I just wanted to catch up.”

He shook his head at that. “You don’t have time to catch up, Cass. I follow your stories, you know. Last I heard you were chasing down the location of Breed scientists known to have been involved in the Coyote Breed genetics. What happened to that?”

“I’m still working on it.” She shrugged. “There were rumors that two Coyote Breed scientists had survived an assassination attempt by the Coyote Ghost and were now actually residing in the Coyote stronghold. All I’ve heard are rumors though.”

Myron lifted his red brows in surprise. “Surprising that the Council allowed them to live, even if the Ghost did. The Coyotes were their most secret creations.”

“And Breeds as well as human scientists are still trying to figure out why,” Cassa agreed. “Perhaps this marriage between the Coyote alpha, Del-Rey Delgado, and Anya Kobrin will shed some light on those scientists.”

Myron snorted at the thought, though she saw a flicker of worry in his gaze.

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” he muttered.

“I don’t bet on anything where getting information out of Breeds is concerned.” She almost laughed at the thought. The definition of “Breed” was “closemouthed and unpredictable.”

Myron smiled at that, then gave her a probing look as he sipped his coffee, before saying, “I hear you have a particular Breed on your ass at the moment. What’s up with that?”

Cassa affected an innocent look. “Just a particular Breed? If there’s a Breed around, then he seems to be nosy about my business.”

“Comes with the territory?” He chuckled. “You’ve turned yourself into the bane of their existence with your reports. You’re not just a nosy reporter, but best friends with two of the Breed alpha mates. Be careful, you might become a liability next.”

Cassa rolled her eyes at that. “Maybe I’ve already become one.” She had no doubt that was how Jonas and Cabal both saw her now. It was a dangerous position to occupy.

“That could explain that Bengal Breed shadowing you.” Myron folded his arms on the table and glared at her warningly. “Stay out of trouble, Cassa. I’d hate to see you get hurt here.”

Now there was a shift.

“There was a time when you would have helped me get into trouble,” she reminded him with a small smile.

Myron only shook his head as he sighed roughly.

“So have you found out anything about Banks?” He lifted his coffee to his lips as the waitress set another cup in front of Cassa along with a menu. “It’s obvious you don’t intend to stay out of whatever stink you’re trying to stir up.”

“I could only wish.” She tried for a smile as she poured cream in her coffee and watched Myron through the veil of her lashes. “Did you know Brandenmore and Engalls very well? I know they have a hunting cabin in the area.”

Myron’s eyes narrowed on her. “It’s a small town, Cassa. Of course I knew them. We didn’t socialize together though.”

“Did you suspect then that they were involved with Breed deaths?”

Myron’s expression hardened further as his jaw tightened.

“If I had suspected then, they wouldn’t be alive to continue to torture Breeds now.”

Myron was being extremely closemouthed on the subject. That wasn’t like him. He was a reporter. He should have already gotten most of the information that she needed to continue her own investigation.

“Did they have a connection to the Breeds that you knew of?” She frowned at the feeling that she was having to drag answers out of him.

“They hated the Breeds and you know it.” Myron grimaced. “Look, Cassa, if anyone around here knew anything that would help you or St. Laurents, trust me, you’d have the information. We want to see those two taken down as much as anyone else does. We’d be doing ourselves, as well as the Breeds, a favor.”

“There’s a rumor that someone is doing the Breeds other favors as well. That someone has identified the Deadly Dozen and they’re taking them out.” Cassa reached into her bag and pulled out the picture of the valley she had been searching for in the mountains. Watching him closely, she laid it on the table. “One of the Dozen could have died here.”

Myron’s gaze flickered over it before his expression tightened with what she was certain was recognition. He knew the area, and he knew that location.

“Do you recognize that valley?” she asked him.

When his gaze lifted, the look in his eyes was flinty and hard.

“That could be anywhere,” he said tonelessly.

Cassa frowned down at the picture before looking back at him suspiciously. She had seen his reaction; she knew he recognized that valley.

“Its about four miles past the north fork, along the eastern portion of the largest ravine that runs down the mountain.”

“That could be anywhere,” he repeated, his tone stiff.

Cassa sat back in the booth and stared at Myron in confusion. What had happened over the years to change his attitude toward her? They used to be friends.

“What’s the problem, Myron?” she asked quietly. “You and I have exchanged information for years, what makes this time different? What makes today different from last year?”

His lips thinned as he looked away, his gaze focused outside the large windows of the café. When he turned back to her, the animosity wasn’t there, but neither was the friendliness she was used to seeing in him.

“You should stay out of the forest at night, especially if there’s something going on up there concerning Breeds and the Deadly Dozen,” he finally said, his voice pitched low as he leaned forward. “Listen to me, Cassa, these mountains are brutal, and I’m not just talking about the nature of them. Whatever you’re looking for here, let it go.”

Cassa sipped at her coffee as she gazed back at him. There was a darkness in his gaze, a warning that she couldn’t ignore. When she set her coffee back on the table, she made certain her expression reflected the determination she could feel inside to figure out what the hell was going on in Glen Ferris.

“You know me better than that, Myron,” she warned him firmly. “Just as I know you. You know what’s going on up there, don’t you? Is this something you’re working on yourself? We’ve worked together before; we could do it again.”

He had to know. She could see it in his face, in his eyes. And he wasn’t mentioning his first wife, or her death. He never had. Suddenly, she had a feeling that Myron was covering up much more than he had ever revealed to her about the Breeds. She knew he was.

“I stay out of those mountains now,” he snapped, his voice still low. “And that’s the advice I’d give anyone else. Stay the hell out.”

“And ignore the fact that people are dying. Again. Just as your first wife died.”

Myron flinched before he breathed in slowly as she spoke. She watched his nostrils flare, watched the dilation of his eyes and the flicker of his gaze toward the Breeds in the room.

No doubt they could hear exactly what was being said. A Breed’s hearing was excellent, much more sensitive than a human’s and she had a feeling they were there just to listen in on this particular meeting.

“People or monsters?” he snapped back. “I’m not worried about the death of something evil, so don’t look at me as though I should be. The Deadly Dozen should have been exterminated before they ever came together. You know that as well as I do. And I don’t discuss my first wife. Ever.”

“And if a Breed is doing the killing?” she hissed back at him. “What happens when he’s caught, or when that Breed sends the proof to a reporter who doesn’t care about anything but flashing it across every paper in the nation? Does that make up for your wife’s death, Myron? Or will it just see more Breeds murdered?”

His lips thinned. “Justice, Cassa. It would be no more than justice. You know that.”

“And if that justice is going to be used against the Breeds?” She lowered her voice further as his eyes narrowed on her once again. “What if I told you that the killer intends to frame the Breeds with certain murders? That there are pictures of the victims, their throats ripped out, their bodies clawed? What if, Myron, there were pictures of a Breed cleanup crew?” She nearly mouthed the last question. “What do you think that would do to everything we’ve both fought to save?”

She watched his expression closely. All emotion seemed to have been wiped from it, as a bleak anger flickered in his gaze.

“You know what’s going on here, don’t you, Myron?”

His lips parted.

“Myron.” A deep male voice voice piped up from behind Cassa. “There you are. Your wife’s looking for you, buddy.”

It seemed his wife was always looking for him.

Cassa watched, eyes narrowed, as the older gentleman slid into the booth beside Myron. “She was getting a little irate that you weren’t answering your cell phone.”

“Cell phone’s turned off,” Myron muttered as he slid out of the other side of the booth and stood up. The look he cast Cassa was that of warning, and concern. “If you need a ride to the airport tonight, let me know.”

With that, he grabbed his jacket and stalked from the booth. That was the warning. To leave now. It did nothing but make her more determined to stay.

“More coffee, Debra, if you don’t mind and a slice of that banana cream pie if you have any left.”

Cassa watched the stranger silently. In his fifties, with a wide, friendly smile and dark brown eyes. Thick, coarse gray hair was brushed back from his face, revealing strong, prominent bones.

Farmer Brown. A country boy in his maturity. He was the epitome of the strength and endurance of the mountains.

“A few slices, Walt, and it’s fresh.” The youthful Debra flashed the stranger a smile before turning to Cassa. “Anything else for you?”

“I’ll take the pie as well,” Cassa said. “And more coffee.”

Debra moved off as Cassa turned and glanced over at the Breeds still sitting several booths away from them.

“You have excellent timing,” she told Walt with a mocking smile. “Though I doubt Myron was going to tell me anything more than he already had.”

Walt arched a brow. “Really? Most people say my timing sucks. But that’s okay, whatever you think.” He leaned forward slowly. “Don’t change nothin’ though. Myron’s wife is lookin’ for him. And I think he said something about you needing a ride to the airport.”

Cassa almost grinned.

Cassa refused the offer. “Not quite yet. I haven’t seen Myron for a while, I would have liked to have caught up with him.”

Walt breathed out heavily at that. “He and Patricia have been having a hard time lately. When I saw him in here, I thought I’d let him know she was looking for him.”

Cassa frowned at that. Myron and Patricia were always at odds with each other. There had been times over the years that Cassa had wondered why they stayed together. And now she was beginning to wonder why everyone thought they needed to rescue Myron from Cassa.

“I know Myron knows you pretty well,” Walt stated as Debra set the coffee and pie on the table before leaving. “He’s spoken of you often.”

“Has he really?” Cassa ignored her own pie and braced her arms on the table as she watched him curiously. “Good things I hope.”

Walt laughed at that. “Pretty much what Cabal says about you. Stubborn. Tenacious. A bulldog when you’re after a story. I consider those compliments.”

Cassa continued to stare back at him with a hint of a question. Namely, why the hell Cabal would discuss her with anyone, let alone this old man.

“Cabal’s discussed me with you?” There was a tinge of anger in her voice that Cassa fought back. She had to ignore Cabal and any emotion that arose in her concerning him. She couldn’t allow herself to be taken by a man that would see her as no more than a possession. He would try to wrap her up, lock her up. And he’d proven he’d go to any lengths to do it.

Walt gazed around the diner, his eyes lingering on the two Breeds with narrow-eyed intent. Seconds later the two men glared back at him irately, but rose from their seats and headed to the counter to pay for their coffee.

“I’m impressed,” Cassa told her. “They don’t seem the sort to give up so easily.” Most Breeds didn’t.

Walt laughed at that, his hazel eyes twinkling. “I know them. They’re nosy as hell, but not really much trouble.”

Not exactly an honest description of any Breed. They were all trouble with a capital T, and those two Breeds were more than just nosy.

“So tell me, Ms. Hawkins, what are you looking for in Glen Ferris that has Myron looking as hunted as a Breed in Council territory?” Walt stared back at her curiously, his rough-hewn face creased into lines of sincerity.

Small towns, you had to love them, Cassa thought.

“David Banks. Anomalies. Anything to add to my story about his disappearance,” she answered blithely as she pulled her notebook free, snapped her pen open and then stared back at him expectantly. “Do you have any information?”

Walt laughed. “Banks was liked by some, hated by others. There was no in-between.” He shrugged. “I suspect he managed to slip and fall into the river. I figure they’ll find his body sometime around spring or so. Hell of a way to go if you ask me.”

She tilted her head and watched him silently for long moments.

“You seem pretty certain that was how he went,” she commented.

“Certain as I can be,” he drawled as he finished his pie. “Banks liked to play with Phillip Brandenmore and Horace Engalls quite a bit as well. Maybe they offed him.”

Or maybe someone was trying to throw up a hell of a smoke screen.

“Maybe.” She smiled tightly, pulled some money from her jeans and laid it on the table for the pie and coffee that she had barely touched. “Thank you anyway, Walt.”

She rose from her chair to leave, aware that the old man rose as well and followed her out of the restaurant.