Bite Deep (15 page)

Someone tapped her on the shoulder and she turned to see a woman wearing a tank top and little else, a bottle of whiskey in one hand. ‘You belong to someone here, honey?' she asked.

‘Uhh.' Lydia tried to process what she was asking and failed.

The woman pointed over her shoulder, into a pocket of darkness towards the cabin. ‘Some of the boys are having a private party, if you want to join me.' She gave Lydia the once-over. ‘They always appreciate fresh meat.'

Lydia flushed, finally understanding. ‘I don't belong to anyone, but I'm here with Jericho.'

‘Jericho?' The woman frowned, confused.

Lydia pointed over to where Jericho was talking and laughing. ‘That guy.'

‘You came with Bulldog?' The woman gave her another assessing look, this time with a skeptical eye. ‘For real?'

‘For real,' Lydia confirmed.

The woman shrugged. ‘Probably not a good idea you join us then.'

‘Probably not,' Lydia agreed wholeheartedly.

A large arm draped around the woman, attached to a giant man with long white hair tied back in a plait. Lydia recognised him from the bar, the night she dragged Jericho out in cuffs. Viking with long white hair and dead-man's eyes. He looked down at the woman, murmuring something soft. She giggled and slipped from his arm, hurrying off and disappearing into the darkness. Then he turned back to her, face empty.

‘What are you doing here?'

Under his cold gaze, Lydia knew she should be afraid. But Jericho had given her his word she was safe and against her better judgement, she trusted that.

‘Right now, I'm enjoying the fire,' she told him.

‘How did you get here?'

‘Is that any of your business?' she shot back recklessly. She glanced over to where Jericho had been, noting he wasn't there anymore. A quick scan of the crowd didn't reveal him either.

‘Considering you're a cop? Kind of is.' He stepped closer, invading her space. ‘You're no good for him, you know. You make him weak.'

‘What?' Lydia blinked, not sure she heard right. ‘What are you talking about?'

He stepped forward again, forcing Lydia to retreat a step. ‘Don't you get it? You're bad news for Bulldog. Whatever drama is going on between you two, it's screwing with his head, and his ability to be objective.'

Lydia's mouth open and shut a few times, unsure of how to answer the accusation. After all, what was happening between Jericho and herself? If she had no idea, then how could they?

‘What are you hoping for with him?' he pressed. ‘A relationship? To be a part of his world? Do you really think you fit in?' He gave a laugh, and the sound was cruel. ‘Do you even know what you want, Constable Gault?'

She felt a flush crawl up her neck. He was right. She didn't belong here. A small voice urged her to kick this jerk in the nuts, then march over to Jericho and demand he take her home. Another, louder voice, told her this would be a mistake.

‘Actually, I do know what I want.' Lydia said, inching her chin up. ‘I want another beer, if you'd be so kind to get me one.'

He stared at her a moment, before a strange rumbling sounded in his chest. Lydia realised he was laughing and she felt herself relax a fraction.

‘Okay, cop.' He nodded his head towards a pocket of darkness by the house. ‘Come with me, I'll take you to Bulldog. I think he's around the back. You should stick close to him tonight.'

* * *

With a glance back at Lydia by the fire, Jericho followed Reaper into the cabin. The interior was all open space, save for a single bedroom out the back. The fireplace was lit, warming the room, and Turk was inside, unpacking beer from a shopping bag. Blades was there as well, sitting on the lounge, reading his phone, Winger beside him. Reaper walked to the fireplace, eyes downcast.

Jericho looked at Blades expectantly. ‘Reaper said you had news for me. Did you find out anything?'

‘Not really.' Blades looked up from his phone. ‘According to her friends, Anna didn't have a mysterious boyfriend, she wasn't even dating someone.'

Jericho frowned. ‘Then what did you want to see me about?'

‘You came here with the cop?' Turk asked as he began to stack beer into the refrigerator behind him.

‘You got a problem with that?' Jericho asked, folding his arms.

‘I do.' Turk turned and faced him, one beer in hand. ‘But I've got a good reason. Frost did a background check on her, since she's a recent arrival at Camden. He didn't like what he found and after telling us, I didn't like it either.'

‘He wasn't the only one,' Blades said, putting his phone down. ‘She's bad news, Bulldog.'

‘Someone want to tell me why Frost shared this with you all, and not me?' Jericho asked, praying Frost hadn't somehow found a nail to put in Lydia's coffin.

A silence fell in the room, no one meeting his eyes and his caution ratcheted up a few notches. ‘Someone tell me something.'

Turk twisted the top of the beer and took a sip. ‘Her birth records list her parents as Damian Coulter and Jade Gault. A check on Damian Coulter showed he worked for the Gatehouse Group. Jade Gault also worked for them through the seventies, before she left.'

‘Gatehouse,' Jericho repeated, suddenly numb.

‘Yeah,' Turk said heavily.

‘And where is this Damian Coulter now?' he asked.

‘Frost said he died of a heart attack in the early nineties.' Turk hesitated, then said, ‘Frost has a theory this Jack Smith Hunter might be in town to clean up something. Maybe he's Lydia's handler? Here to clean up after her?'

‘No chance.' He forced himself to speak evenly. ‘Even if she has Hunter blood, it doesn't mean she is one. There's more to being a Breed Hunter than sharing blood ties.'

‘Not by much,' Blades murmured. ‘You know they recruit their own. Keep it in the family and all.'

‘What about the mother, Jade Gault?' Jericho tried. ‘Was she Hunter as well?'

‘No,' Turk said. ‘In fact, she had ties to the old Camden coven. Before she was killed by a hit-and-run accident in the mid-nineties.'

‘I thought the witches ended up siding with Breed,' Blades said. ‘What would she be doing having a baby with a Hunter?'

‘Love can make you weird,' Winger said, and all eyes swung to him. Blades cuffed the prospect on the side of his head.

‘What would you know about love, kid?' he laughed, and the noise grated against Jericho's nerves.

‘I know enough,' Winger protested. ‘And I'm not a fucking kid.'

Turk cleared his throat. ‘Jericho, even if the cop isn't a Hunter, the evidence is against her. She's a risk.'

There weren't many times his crew questioned him, but from the tension in the air, he knew they thought he'd made a terrible mistake by allowing her to live.

Reaper cleared his throat, looking up from the fire. ‘Even if she was a Hunter, why act now? Why kill a vulnerable female Breed?'

‘Maybe she couldn't help herself,' Turk suggested. ‘But either way, we can't have Hunters in town, Jericho,' Turk said. ‘The treaty might be a little creaky, but it's still there and we've got to protect what's ours.'

Jericho levelled a flat look around the room. ‘I've talked to Lydia. She's not our enemy. But if I discover she is, I'll deal with her accordingly. Me. No one else.'

Blades voice was bland. ‘We should take care of them both, tonight.'

‘No.' The word tore out of Jericho's mouth, sharp and final. He swallowed hard, trying to control the sudden rage inside him, born from a desperate helplessness. He hadn't seen deceit in Lydia's face when they talked, hadn't heard any lies in her voice, he was sure of it.

Blades shifted in his seat, frowning. ‘Why do you care about her so much? You aren't fucking her, so what's the big deal?'

‘Because,' he started, then floundered, a need to protect her rising up inside him like a wave. ‘I'm sure you're wrong.'

‘Well, it doesn't matter anymore,' Turk said softly.

‘Why?' Jericho looked at him sharply. ‘What are you talking about?'

Blades got to his feet, walking over to Jericho. ‘You made the right call about her not being infected. But there's now a possibility she's a real threat to us. And it's plain to see you like her, which means, my brother, you're not thinking straight.'

Jericho looked around the room, knowing they were just trying to protect him. But they were also so wrong about Lydia, this he was so sure of. Then, it struck him that someone was missing. Someone very dangerous.

‘Where's Frost?' he asked, noting Blades casually moving to block his exit.

‘He's out there, having a good time.' Turk's voice dropped. ‘Forget about the cop, Bulldog. Trust me, this is something you need to give on.'

Jericho stepped towards the door, but Blades didn't shift from his path. ‘Move,' he said. ‘Right now.'

‘Relax, Bulldog,' Turk came around the kitchen bench slow, hands raised. ‘We're going to take care of her, Bulldog. You're hands are clean on this. You've got nothing to do with it.'

Jericho knew he had to hurry. He rushed Blades, fists slamming into his brother's chest and grabbing his shirt. He let the beast flood through him, injecting his body with strength and the start of a raging blood thirst. Blades eyes widened in alarm, but he kept his ground, feet spreading apart for balance.

‘I won't fight you, Bulldog,' he between clenched teeth. ‘But I won't let you go out there yet, either.'

A hand dropped on Jericho's shoulder and his head snapped around to snarl at Reaper. The big man stepped back, hands raised. His eyes shot accusingly to Blades.

‘I told you it was a shitty idea,' he muttered.

‘We just want to help you,' Turk said from behind Jericho.

‘This isn't helping.' Jericho's teeth ground together.

‘We're just trying to help you with a difficult decision.' Blades didn't fight back as Jericho shoved him aside.

‘Bulldog, wait,' Turk called out. But Jericho wasn't listening as he ripped open the door, knowing he had to find Lydia before Frost did.

* * *

As they entered the shadows behind the cabin, Lydia hesitated. Despite Jericho's assurances, she suddenly felt trapped in the darkness, alone with this man she didn't know.

‘What's wrong?' His voice was silky, his outline far too close to her for comfort.

Lydia swallowed, inching away from him. ‘I want to go back to the fire.'

‘Bulldog isn't far.' A large hand encircled around her left wrist, pulling her. ‘Just around the back, like I told you.'

‘Why do you call him Bulldog?' Lydia asked.

In the darkness, the man hesitated. ‘It's the pack way,' he finally said. ‘Most of us like to leave our names behind. Start fresh. Using our birth names is a very personal thing.'

‘You didn't answer my question.' Lydia tried to pull from his grip, but his hand just tightened.

‘He's called Bulldog because he's a stubborn bastard,' the man said. ‘Courageous to a fault, and loyal as they come.'

‘Please let me go.' Lydia twisted her arm. ‘You're hurting me.'

He ignored her, pulling her deeper into shadows. ‘Sometimes though, those traits do not serve him well. That's when people like me step in, to protect him.'

‘Frost.'

Hearing Jericho's voice behind her, she almost cried with relief. Suddenly she was free and whirling, she threw herself towards him. One of his arms circled her, pulling her in close.

‘Bulldog.' The Viking's voice was subdued.

There was a long silence, then Jericho's chest rumbled as he said, ‘I'll deal with you later.' One of his hands rubbed Lydia's back and his lips came close to her ear, breath ruffling her hair. ‘Let's go.'

Enclosed in his arm, she followed him back to the fire, where women shrieked and laughed and hard rock pumped loud from stereos. Lydia's chest began to squeeze tight and sweat broke out on her forehead, heart beginning to pound. It was too much.

‘Are you okay?'

Jericho's voice broke through her rising panic. His hands brushed against her waist and she stiffened, wishing desperately she was home in bed. This scene was too crazy, too wild for her tastes. And she got the distinct feeling she'd just dodged a bullet with the Viking. She wasn't sure what his intention had been, but she was sure it wasn't to find Jericho.

She gulped in a breath. ‘I'm fine.'

‘You don't look fine.' Jericho glanced back towards the cabin. ‘You look like you're about to panic and run.'

She followed his gaze and spied some of his club brothers on the verandah, drinking beer and watching them.

‘I want to go home,' she said softly.

Jericho looked down at her with an unblinking gaze. ‘What did Frost say to you?'

‘Nothing.'

‘What did he say.'

She rolled her eyes. ‘He just wanted to know how I got here.'

Jericho grunted, then held out his hand. ‘Come on. I'll take you home.'

She let him lead her back to his bike, where she stumbled to a stop beside it. Jericho turned to watch her, eyes glinting in the dark.

‘Why did you really bring me here?' she asked nervously.

‘Because you said you wanted some fun,' he answered, throwing a leg over his bike. ‘But I made a mistake and I shouldn't have bought you here. Now, get on the bike.'

Worry gripped Lydia. What if he took her somewhere more secluded? What if he intended revenge for what she did at the jail cell? After all, she did humiliate him in front of his club brothers when she dragged him out of the bar. Her stomach gave a lurch and she took a step back, half wondering if she could find her way home by herself.

As if he could read her thoughts, Jericho shook his head. ‘I'll take you home. Don't try to walk off by yourself.' He keyed the ignition and his bike roared to life, settling to an irregular, lumpy rumble. ‘Not in these woods.'