Growl (6 page)

Which begged the question that nagged most. How did they plant the evidence?
I was drugged. Had to be.
How else to explain her lack of memories from the moment she entered her apartment to the next morning when the cops beat down her door? Drugged so they could plant a bloody knife and a blouse she'd left two days before at the dry cleaners stained with Pierre's blood. Those elements combined spoke of forethought.

“Got it,” Gavin announced, breaking her train of thought as he exited the elevator, key in hand.

In short order, she entered her place, Gavin on her heels. It seemed he'd elected to stick around for a while. She ignored him, hoping he'd take a hint and leave. But when she emerged from the shower, she heard him talking on his phone in the living room.

Dressing first, and blow-drying her hair before wrapping it in a scrunchie atop her head, she exited her bedroom to find him completely at home, sprawled on her couch.

“Don't you have to work?” she asked as she busied herself in the kitchen making a much-needed coffee.

“I am. Working your case as a matter of fact. So, no surprise, the wife has an alibi.”

“You checked?”

“Of course I did. Spouses are the usual suspects in these kinds of cases.”

Funny how he mirrored her earlier thoughts.

“Now mind you, she could have hired someone to do it, but given the red tape now involved with his estate, I doubt it. Most hired killings for inheritance try to make it look like a benign accident. So I've veered my inquiries into his business dealings and discovered something interesting.” Gavin stopped talking.

Megan took a sip of coffee and waited for him to continue. When he didn't, she prodded. “And?”

“And if you want to know what I found, then you need to sit over here.”

“I'm fine where I am.” Where she was being across the room from him, seated on a stool by the kitchen counter.

A getting-familiar deadly and sexy smile curved his lips. “But I'm not fine. If we're going to be together—”

“To work.”

“—then you're going to have to learn to trust me.”

“I do trust you. You're my lawyer.”

He patted the cushion beside me. “Don't be a scared rabbit. Come here.”

The taunt was an obvious ploy. That didn't stop her from falling for it. “I'm not scared,” she stated as she plopped herself down on the couch beside him. Accepting dumb challenges ever was a vice of hers. Her mother said Megan got that trait from her father's side.

“Of course, you're not scared,” he murmured, draping his arm along the back of the couch and tickling fingers across her exposed neck.

Shifting would have given him too much ammo. She pretended to not notice his feathery touch. “I'm sitting. Now do you mind telling me what you found?”

“It seems Pierre had a certain fondness for a strip joint, one known to also partake in certain illegal gambling activities.”

“You think they might be the ones behind my framing?”

“It can't hurt to find out. I'm vaguely acquainted with the manager. She works for a mutual acquaintance.”

“You're friends with a criminal?”

“Hardly friends, but in my line of work, I tend to meet interesting people. I'll go and talk to Lulu. See if she knows anything about Pierre. She might be able to shed some light on who he was dealing with and if he owed any large sums of money.”

“I'm going with you.”

“To a strip joint?” He couldn't hide his incredulous tone.

“Sure. Why not? It's not like I haven't seen a woman's naked body before. How bad could it be?”

 

CHAPTER 7

This was bad. Oh so bad.

In his defense, when Megan had told Gavin she wanted to go he'd tried to say no. Several times as a matter of fact. Then she leaned in close, placed a hand high up on his thigh, and whispered, practically against his lips, “I'm going, and you can't stop me. So either we go together, or I go alone.”

Bested. By a woman. Which was how he found himself in a den of iniquity, with his future mate, regretting his decision. Especially when he noted the interested leers of the men patronizing the place.

His lip curled in menace, and he couldn't help a low growl, which Megan, thankfully, didn't hear. But it did force him to put a lock on his more primitive side.

This wasn't the time or place to get jealous. He knew on a rational level that he needn't fear competition from the men in this place, but his possessive side, which until now he never suspected existed, really didn't like the male attention directed her way.

With a boldness he would not have suspected her capable of, Megan strode to the bar, head held high, as if she were in charge.

Behind the granite-topped surface, a woman with a wild mane of red curls, a freckled nose, and a top a few sizes too small dried a glass with a towel.

“What can I get you?”

“We are looking to speak to the owner or manager please.”

“About?”

“It's a private matter.”

Primly said. Gavin almost laughed. He positioned himself behind Megan, close enough to feel her shiver at his proximity. Nice to know his presence affected her. “Hey, Lulu. Short staffed today?”

“Bloody idiot who bartends this shift got himself thrown into jail for a DUI, which means I'm stuck until a replacement comes in. Who's the broad?” asked Lulu with a head dip in Megan's direction.

“My client. We're here looking for information on a certain Pierre Jonquin. Does the name ring a bell?”

“Wait a second. Isn't she the one accused of killing him? I heard it was an open-shut case. Overwhelming evidence and all.”

Megan stiffened. “I'm being framed.”

“Sure you are, doll.” Lulu didn't roll her eyes, but her tone said it all.

“Certain inconsistencies have led me to believe there is more to this case than meets the eye, like the certain matter of money owing.”

“Not to me, he didn't.”

“So you're familiar with him?”

“Sure. Pierre was a regular. Every day at lunch, right when Mitzy's set started.”

“He was cheating on his wife?”

Lulu fixed Megan with a hard stare. “Eyeballing some scantily clad dancers isn't cheating.”

“But his wife—”

“Is a psycho who used to work here once upon a time. Betcha didn't know that. Vivi, or Vivienne as she now likes to call herself, was a popular act until she got hitched to Pierre last year.”

“So they met here then? Perhaps I was hasty in dismissing her as a possible suspect. Given how they met, I can see how she might have let jealousy consume her if she discovered his noontime activities,” Gavin mused aloud.

“Discovered?” Lulu snorted. “She usually joined him. And it wasn't for the floor show. The pair of them like playing the odds.”

“And losing?”

“Actually no. They did surprisingly well. Too well. Bruno was thinking about cutting them off. Their wins were cutting into his profit margins.”

Gavin couldn't help but frown. “If that's the case, then what about the rumors saying he owed large sums?”

Lulu shrugged. “Hell if I know how those started. But if he did, it wasn't here. You know the big man doesn't allow bets that aren't covered.”

Indeed, Fabian might enable illegal gambling, but he also had a policy that demanded money up front.

“I don't suppose you know anything else?”

“Nope. But hey, we just lost a girl last week. Darned chit ran off with her boyfriend. Given your client is now unemployed, she should think about a change in career. We've got guys who'd pay her big bucks to take those clothes off.”

Gavin's fist struck the counter before he could stop it, and he growled, “Megan won't be working here. I forbid it.”

Leaving Lulu staring at him in openmouthed shock, probably because he had referred some ladies looking for cash her way before, he grabbed Megan by the elbow and steered her out of there before his simmering anger got the better of him.

He didn't make it completely out.

“Hey, buddy, how much for your—”

The man never finished his sentence, probably because Gavin punched him.

As Gavin and Megan exited the bar to see twilight had descended, she pulled from his grasp and whirled on him.

“What the heck was that?”

“What? Me hitting the guy? He implied you were for sale. A man never lets scum insult a lady.”

“I wasn't talking about that. The hitting was totally deserved. I meant the whole I-forbid-it thing. I'm not saying I'd take up stripping for money, but what gives you the right to decide what I am allowed to do? I don't belong to you.”

That was where she was wrong.

She. Was. His.

And it was time she started to realize that fact.

He dragged her toward him, arms wrapped around her so she couldn't escape, not that she fought him. But in case she tried to flee, he trapped her against his chest. He caught her protest before it could leave her lips, his mouth slanting across hers, claiming them in a torrid kiss.

A very hot kiss.

A kiss she returned.

In that moment, Gavin didn't care they were on the sidewalk in plain view. He didn't care about ethics or rules. He also didn't give a damn that he was announcing his affection for the world to see.

I want her.

Simple. Undeniable. So right.

Which was why he could have ripped the tongue out of the guy who let out a wolf whistle from a passing car along with a shouted, “Twenty bucks if you get her to blow you in public!”

Megan froze, her pliant lips stiffening along with the rest of her as she resisted his embrace. He didn't force the issue, letting her escape the confines of his arms.

She glared at him. “I thought I said no touching.”

“And here I thought you'd changed your mind, given your tongue in my mouth.”

To his delight, pink suffused her cheeks. Embarrassment, though, didn't prevent her from retorting, “Only because I was attempting to push it out.”

“Such a liar,” he chided her, his tone low and teasing. “A good thing for you I'm a man who can hear the truth beneath the lie. Are you ready to go back to your place now, or shall we indulge in more
oral
argument?” He couldn't resist the inflection, not when he knew it would drive her nuts.

Eyes flashing, she shot him an eloquently raised finger and stalked to his car. Enclosed within its confines, he wouldn't allow her to simmer in anger.

“Come now, it wasn't that bad.”

“No. It wasn't. It was a great kiss. The best I've ever had,” she admitted, completely taking him by surprise.

“Why do I sense a but?”

“Because there is one. Let's say we get involved. You're my lawyer. Now tell me what happens if, before the trial or during, you suddenly decide we're no good together. Or I find out you suck in bed.”

“I don't.”

“Even if you don't, let's say you're a god in bed. An utter erotic genius. What if you hate kittens?”

“Love the little furballs.” Especially when he got a feisty one he could chase up a tree.

“Don't like garlic.”

“Is there such a thing?”

“Discover I snore and you can't sleep with me. Or maybe I'll suck in bed.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Again she blushed.

“You're deliberately missing the point. What if we do take things to the next level, and it doesn't work out? Where does that leave me?”

Did there exist a delicate way of telling a woman she need not fear he'd ever leave her because his werewolf heritage had deemed she would mate with him for life and that they'd live happily ever after? Or so he assumed. He'd never exactly ascertained that point.

He stuck to a partial truth. “No matter what happens between us, I would never allow it to affect my duty to you and this case.”

“I wish I could believe that. Really I do, because I am insanely attracted to you.”

Yes!

“However,” she continued, “I'm afraid attraction can't come before my future and well-being. So please respect my wishes and keep your distance.”

“For now.”

While he could understand her concern, he couldn't stop himself, though. The more time he spent with her, the more he unraveled about her personality and discovered the spitfire she hid within, the more he craved her. Wanted her. Would have her.

And he wasn't going to let weeks or months of tedious investigation while he cleared her name stop him.

So I'd better solve this case quick.

 

CHAPTER 8

Once again, Gavin insisted on accompanying Megan to her apartment door. Talk about dancing with temptation.

Bad enough dealing with him in the closeness of his car, especially after that devastating kiss, then having the scent of his cologne enveloping her as other building tenants forced him to invade her space. But she doubted her willpower if he entered her apartment, a place that would offer privacy and a bed. A bed that hadn't seen any exercise since her move here.

I need him to go.
Quickly. Exiting the elevator, she took brisk steps to her apartment, only to slow as she approached the door to her place, a door not quite closed.

Key in hand, she hesitated.

“Move away from the door,” he ordered, but she didn't jump to obey.

“Maybe I didn't close it properly when we left earlier,” she muttered, reaching out with trembling fingers to push at the portal. It swung open.

Before she could truly comprehend what she glimpsed, Gavin had inserted himself between her and the open doorway, blocking her view.

But a second was all it took. One second to see that a tornado had apparently visited her home and left only wreckage in its wake.

Her trembling coalesced into a cold anger at the senseless destruction of her apartment.