Lust Unleashed (Night Seekers, Book One) (4 page)

He led the way into a small, well-kept living room. After some foot shuffling John Denby took one of the armchairs. Jonah surreptitiously slid one hand into his jeans pocket to turn on his miniature recorder before sitting down on the couch. Enoch Brazile stood near the door. Guarding his neighbor’s welfare, Jonah figured.

“Can I get anyone some coffee?” Forman fidgeted, looking as if he suddenly wished he hadn’t agreed to this.

“No, thanks, Larry.” Denby’s smile was more strained than reassuring. “Why don’t you just sit down and give us the short version of what happened here.”

Forman shrugged and sat on the edge of the other armchair. He wet his lips and looked at Jonah.

“All right, then. Enoch and me were talking yesterday,” he began, “and we finally decided to just tell you what happened and see what you thought. Being as you’ve been researching all this stuff. I mean, after those hunters were killed I got to thinking about my dogs…”

Jonah deliberately pitched his voice low. “Just say it as it comes to you,” he encouraged. “Nothing fancy. I know you’re still upset so take your time.

“I loved those dogs,” he said. “Had ’em since they were pups. They were damn good dogs.”

“I’ll attest to that,” Enoch added. “Never a nuisance or a minute of trouble.”

“Did you always keep them outside?” Jonah asked.

“Inside and out. But always outside at night unless it was freezing. They were good watchers.” A look of pain flashed across his face.

“So what happened that particular night?”

Forman rubbed a hand over his face. “I’d turned out the outside lights and headed off to bed. Must have been, oh, I guess about midnight. It was warm and I’d been just sitting out on the back porch a while.” He looked at the deputy. “Chewing the fat with Enoch.”

The deputy nodded. “It was quiet in the neighborhood. Most everyone around here gets up for work early so during the week it’s lights out by then.”

Jonah just nodded and motioned for Forman to continue.

“So I went inside. There hadn’t been a damn thing stirring outside. Fell asleep pretty quick. Then the dogs’ barking woke me.”

“What time?” Jonah asked. “Do you remember?”

“Yeah. A little after three. I looked out the bedroom window but the barking stopped and I couldn’t see anything. No moon that night.”

The attacks were always in full darkness, Jonah reminded himself.

“Anyway, I got my shotgun out of the closet, opened the back door a little, looked out. Nothing. Couldn’t even see the hounds.” He rubbed his face again. “I cocked the rifle, figuring the sound alone could scare off someone if they was there. Tiptoed out to the porch.” He closed his eyes. “Then I saw the dogs. Jesus, I’ll never forget that sight ’til the day I die.”

“He called me right away,” Enoch Brazile said. “He was so upset he could hardly get the words out. But when I got over here I saw, sure enough, those dogs were dead.”

“Throats punctured, blood drained.” The pain in Forman’s voice was like a sharp razor. “And their guts was yanked out lying beside them. I still have nightmares about it.”

Jonah frowned. “How much time do you think passed from when you first heard the barking and you actually got downstairs?”

“I don’t know for sure. Maybe ten minutes. It took me a little bit to wake up, then get the shotgun and load it. I don’t keep it ready because this is a pretty safe neighborhood.” He glanced at Brazile. “Especially with Enoch living here and all. Besides, when the barking stopped, I figured it was just some little varmint running through the yard.”

So. Maybe fifteen minutes total. Time to get into the yard, kill the dogs and scram. What kind of creature could appear in a neighborhood like this and kill so quickly, then get away clean?

He looked a Forman. “Would you mind showing me your yard?”

“Sure. No problem. Nothing to see there now, anyway.”

He was right. The backyard was medium size and well kept. No flowers but some natural shrubs that looked as if Forman tended to them regularly. Jonah let his gaze roam over the entire landscape, including the houses on either side and the one whose backyard touched Forman’s. A nice peaceful scene. And no dogs.

“Were you the only one here who kept pets?” Jonah asked.

Forman shook his head. “No, but after this happened the few people on this street who did have them started keeping them in the house.”

Jonah stepped off the porch and prowled the yard, conscious of everyone watching him. Six months after the fact he didn’t even know what he expected to find. Not even a trace of a scent remained.

Damn.

“Mind if I take some pictures?” he asked.

“Help yourself,” Forman told him. “Nothing to see, though.”

“Thanks. I promise not to identify the place to the public.”

He pulled a miniature camera from his shirt pocket and snapped a series of shots. He’d have to go back to the cabin in the daylight and do the same thing there, too. If he could lay out all the pictures together maybe he could get some idea of how the creature approached so undetected and got away so quickly.

When he was finished he climbed back onto the porch and shook Forman’s hand. “Thanks. I appreciate this.”

“I didn’t find any animal prints,” Forman blurted out. “Neither did the sheriff. So how the hell does some animal get in here, kill this fast and get away without leaving a trace?”

“That’s something I’d like to know, too,” Jonah told him.

“No one wants to admit it’s that devil beast,” the man said. “Seems as if just saying it makes it real. And making it real scares the shit out of everyone.”

“I understand that. Maybe with my research I can help the police either catch it or kill it. We’ll see.”

Yeah, right. If anyone does the killing it will be me.

“Let’s go on back to my office and put our heads together,” Denby said. “I’m anxious to see what you’ve got.”

Jonah swallowed a comeback. At least now they were willing to share.

But two hours later they didn’t seem to be much farther ahead. Jonah brought in the folder of pictures from his truck that Night Seekers had provided for him, along with descriptions of several crime scenes. In return John Denby gave him copies of the recent crime scene photos and of the reports themselves, including the gruesome autopsy.

“The thing that’s similar in all of them,” Jonah said, looking up from the conference table where they had everything spread out, “is the complete ability of the killer to appear and disappear without a trace. It’s definitely an animal of some sort, because no way could a human do this without leaving something.”

“I agree.” Denby sighed. “I’ve done my damnedest to keep a lid on the Chupacabra gossip. Scares the shit out of people and drives them to do stupid things.”

“From what I’ve dug up, this animal supposedly appeared first in Puerto Rico,” Jonah told him. “But I’ve got other reports from all over the place. South America. Here. Other states. It’s either real or it’s a legend grown beyond all proportions.

“What do you think, Sheriff?”

“I think I wish it would all go the hell away. But that’s not gonna happen. So I’ll say okay, it’s some kind of animal. But what?” He spread his hands out. “Is it some strange species we don’t know about yet that’s found in more than one place? Is it a common animal like the coyote that’s grown into something else because of the stories and superstitions? I wish to hell I knew.”

“Who found the hunters?”

“Man who owns the hunting preserve. One of his men was riding a four-wheeler checking on the blinds. He had about a dozen hunters out there.”

“But these were the only two attacked.”

Denby rose, poured coffee from the pot on the sideboard into a mug, refilled Jonah’s and sat down again.

“I don’t know if you’ve found this in the cases you’ve studied, but from what I know about the Chupacabra, it zeroes in on its kill, satisfies itself and leaves. There’s no mass slaughter or anything like that.” He sipped at his coffee. “Which leads me to believe it’s not a pack but a single animal. Maybe two at the most.”

“Nothing I’ve read or learned indicates there’s more than one of these,” Jonah told him. “And the original legends only refer to one animal.”

Denby shook his head. “I know, I know. That’s one of the reasons I’ve tried to keep a lid on this whole thing. It’s a lot easier to let people think a pack of coyotes went on the attack than to give credence to this stupid goat sucker story and have everyone frightened to death there might be more of them. This whole county would be in chaos.”

“I have to agree on that. But you and I both know this wasn’t the work of coyotes. Not the hunters or the deer or the dogs.”

Jonah spent about fifteen minutes giving the sheriff the bare bones outline of what his research had turned up so far, then gathered his things up from the table. He wasn’t ready yet to tell Denby about the triple killings in each place. All that would do was stir up a pot he wasn’t ready to mix yet. “Think you could arrange for me to talk to the man who owns that hunting preserve?”

“Sure. Give me your cell number and I’ll let you know when it’s set up.” The sheriff sighed. “Only because I figured out you aren’t from one of those sensational rags and won’t be doing scare stories about this.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Jonah actually carried a satellite phone, cell reception being spotty in many areas where he went, but he rattled off the number.

“If you go poking around in the area you’d better watch out if you run into that woman out there, though,” Denby warned.

Jonah tensed. “Woman?”

“Crazy female who lives in a cabin next to one of the preserves. Dakota Furcal. People around here buy her herbs and potions but otherwise give her a wide berth.”

Crazy? Great. Just what he needed. A lunatic who made his balls ache.

“What makes her crazy?”

Denby spread his hands. “Just…everything. She’s a loner. Her mother was from the Kickapoo reservation and rumor has it she was crazy, too. Chanted spells and stuff like that. Maybe she got that way because Dakota’s father was a drunk who was eventually killed in a knife fight.”

“Sounds like the town turned its back on her,” Jonah commented.

“More like she turned her back on us. Anyway, we give her a wide berth.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jonah stuffed everything into the briefcase he’d carried inside with him and shook hands with the sheriff. “Thanks a lot for your help. I’ll be hanging around here for a while, doing more research.”

“I’d be obliged if you’d share with me whatever you find out.”

“No problem.”

As long as it doesn’t interfere with my investigation. This beast is mine when I run it to ground.

Chapter Three

Dakota carried her groceries into the cabin and began to put them away, her mind still racing. Ever since she’d bumped into
him
at the café she’d been completely rattled with no idea why. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen good-looking men before. At twenty-eight she’d had plenty of them come on to her during market days. Of course by now she was aware they were only interested in who could brag about “fucking the crazy lady”. The very few times she’d let herself go had proven disastrous, so she tried to imagine every man she came across as uglier than a mud fence.

But there was something about this one…

She was no little package, standing five nine in bare feet, but this man towered over her. Thick black hair peeped out from beneath his Stetson to touch the collar of his shirt and the shirt and worn jeans hugged a lean, broad-shouldered body. Maybe it was his eyes that got her. Silver, like polished nickel, with lighter gray highlights. A ruggedly masculine face defined by thick eyebrows and equally thick black lashes.

Why the hell was she noticing him, anyway?

She sighed as she emptied the last of her canvas bags, folded them and stowed them in a cupboard. For the first time the silence of the cabin disturbed her. Usually it was soothing, peaceful, her refuge from the outside world. Today the absence of sound made her jittery. She turned on the television—her one real extravagance—and found a channel that didn’t offend her too much. She no longer watched the news or talk shows, and soap operas weren’t her thing, so sometimes her choices were limited.

She was about to throw a load of laundry in her mini-washer when she heard a noise outside, the screech of an animal that set her teeth on edge. Picking up her shotgun, she cocked it and eased open the front door. She swiveled her head left and right, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from but absolutely nothing looked disturbed.

Standing completely still in the doorway, she waited for the noise to repeat itself but it never happened. Something rustled in the wild grasses, startling her, and two squirrels dashed across the front yard, chasing each other.

Dakota let out the breath she’d been holding and was about to step back inside when she heard the rumble of a vehicle on her almost-road.

What now?

She kept the shotgun tucked in the crook of her arm as a pickup emerged from the cloud of dust it was pushing ahead of it and pulled into the bare spot in front of the cabin. Who would be coming here? No one ever came to the cabin. They visited her booth during Market Days or placed orders for her potions and salves in town with Muriel at The Daisy Chain. But come out here where she lived? Never. She swallowed back the sudden burst of anxiety and settled her hands more firmly on the shotgun. Her knees nearly buckled when the truck pulled to a stop, the door opened and the stranger from the café climbed out. An invisible charge of electricity zapped between them, the air suddenly filled with it.

Oh, god. Just what she needed. Not only didn’t she want visitors, she didn’t want
men
. Her forays into sexual relationships had been disappointing and unsatisfying. She’d finally decided she was better off taking care of herself.

Now here
he
was, bring an aura of sexual electricity with him.

Shit!

He looked around, his head turning from one side to the other before he started toward her. He walked with animal grace, a fluid movement of legs and hips. As he drew closer he smiled at her, but there was little humor in it and she had the feeling he could be a dangerous man to know. Her body reacted immediately, a tiny pulse throbbing in her cunt and her nipples standing at attention. She had an insane desire to rip his clothes off and see if he looked as magnificent when he was naked.

Dakota sucked in a breath. Not good! Her rare moments of sexual activity had been nothing short of catastrophic. You’d think she’d learned her lesson by now.

“I hope you won’t need that shotgun,” he said. “I’m not planning to start a gunfight.”

His voice was like warm molasses sliding onto a plate, deep and rich. Her body reacted automatically to the sensuous sound, the same weak-kneed, kick-in-the-stomach feeling she’d had when she ran into him in town, and she had to fight to keep her face expressionless.

“What
are
you planning? What are you even doing here? I don’t entertain company.”

He stopped at the porch steps and she tightened her grip on the shotgun. No way was she letting him in the house. Not the way his proximity set off sensations in her body previously only produced by her collection of toys. What the hell? She could smell trouble.

“My name is Jonah Grey.” A ghost of a smile drifted over his mouth. “It’s usually polite when someone introduces themselves to tell them your name, but it so happens I know it.”

She snorted. “I’ll bet the good people of Eagle Pass were only too happy to gossip about me.”

“Actually, I got your name from the sheriff. I’m doing some articles and I wondered if you might give me a minute or two and answer some questions.”

She tensed at his words. Was this another reporter sniffing around the crazy half-breed? Dakota angled the shotgun so her finger was on the trigger. All she had to do was raise the muzzle.

“Questions? About what?”

Jonah Grey didn’t flinch. He just looked at the gun and back at her. “I don’t think I’ll give you any cause to shoot me.”

“Tell me in one sentence what you want before I blow one of your toes off.”

The damn man actually grinned. “I’m writing about the legend of the Chupacabra and the recent killings here.”

That stopped her for a minute. The damn stupid legend. Did he think it was Native American? That just because she was half-Kickapoo she would know about it?

“It’s not a Native American legend,” she said in a flat tone.

“I’m aware of that. More Hispanic than anything. But the last killings happened not too far from here. Besides, I have a feeling the Kickapoo are more aware of what’s going on than the people in Eagle Pass.”

Her entire body tightened. “Are you saying the Kickapoo have something to do with it?”

He shook his head. “Not even hinting at it. Just wondering if there’s a little more insight into the legend there.” He put one foot on her bottom step, completely ignoring the shotgun. “I promise not to take up too much of your time.”

Reluctantly Dakota backed up a step. The problem was, she wanted him to take up a lot of her time and that was so not good.

She gestured toward the two old Adirondack chairs she’d scavenged from somewhere. “We can talk out here.”

He nodded. “All right.”

She watched him lower his tall body easily into one of the chairs, push his hat back slightly on his head, and lean forward with his arms on his thighs. He was obviously doing his best to put her at ease, but how much ease could she feel with someone who had danger written all over him?

Rather than sit down in the other chair, she leaned against the porch rail, still cradling the shotgun. She wondered if it was to warn him to look but not touch or to remind herself to keep a safe distance.

“What is it you want to know?”

“For starters did you hear anything the day it happened? Sound carries a long way out here.”

Dakota shook her head. “No. Nothing. At least not that I remember. But there are so many animal sounds all mixing together that it’s hard to distinguish one from the other.

His silver eyes studied her face as if trying to see beyond her answer. What was wrong? Didn’t he believe her? She
hadn’t
heard anything. She didn’t think. Now, she wondered if…

“Remembering?” he asked, breaking her thought pattern.

She shrugged. “Maybe. I honestly don’t know if I heard anything or not. I’m busy during the day.”

Busy hoping no one will bother me.

“Surely you’d be able to tell the difference between the sound of an animal and that of a human.”

He shifted his legs and Dakota’s eyes were drawn automatically to the fly of his jeans. When he saw where she was looking, one corner of his mouth lifted in a grin. Heat rushed to her face and she slid her gaze away from him. She’d told herself toys were better than human beings, less complicated and more dependable. But if anyone could change her mind it was Jonah Grey.

Sex on the hoof. That’s all she could think. God, she was in such trouble. If he didn’t leave quickly she might not be responsible for her own actions.

“Dakota?”

Swell. Staring again.

“Sorry.” Mentally she kicked herself. “Lost my place for a minute. Have you been to the site and looked at it?”

He nodded. “I was hoping I could take a look around your property and see if the beast came this way. Maybe left some tracks.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think you’ll find anything here. And I don’t usually have strangers hanging around my cabin.”

“I promise to be quick.

Are you quick in bed, too?

Mentally she smacked herself. What the hell was wrong with her, anyway? But she knew. She’d barely met this man yet she wanted him naked in her bed. Had she truly lost her mind? She’d better get him out of here before she did something really stupid.

She opened her mouth to tell him he had to leave, but instead she heard herself say, “All right. Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee first?”

If she hadn’t been looking straight at him and seen the silver in his eyes darken to slate she might have thought her invitation didn’t get a reaction from him. But she knew instantly that whatever ridiculous carnal urgings she felt for him, they were reciprocated. She was in big trouble and it was her own fault.

Jonah took off his hat when he unfolded himself from the chair, using it to cover the raging hard-on he’d spiked the minute he’d gotten within two feet of Dakota Furcal. The spear of lust that had thrust itself through him when they nearly collided at the diner had caught him completely by surprise. Oh, sure, he had a highly active sex drive. That came with being a shifter. But he’d never experienced instant desire like this with anyone before. Not since…

No. He wouldn’t go there today. At this moment he only wanted to focus on the woman standing inches away from him, fiddling with mugs and a coffeepot. She still wore the denim skirt and scoop-necked blouse she had on in town. His hands itched to slide up beneath skirt and caress the satin skin of her thighs, the curve of her ass, the dampness of her cunt.

Oh, yeah. She’d be damp. Maybe dripping. He’d seen the hunger in her eyes. If possible, his cock hardened even more, pressing painfully against the denim of his jeans. He should probably wait a decent interval of time before making his move, but the room was so charged with sexual awareness he wasn’t sure either of them could wait. His wolf’s sense told him she was ripe for him
now
.

For one brief moment Jenna’s face flashed through his mind, a smile tilting up her lips, eyes darkening with passion as he thrust into her. Satisfying his sexual needs since her death had simply been an exercise, like feeding himself or hydrating his body. He had never expected to feel the thread of passion unwinding within himself again. Never expected to sense any kind of connection with another female.

Jonah moved up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. The heat of her body surged through his hands and washed through to his groin. Just touching her ramped up the rush of lust consuming him. His cock couldn’t take much more of this.

“Forget the coffee,” he told her. “For now.”

He waited to see if she’d push his hands away or try to back off. When she didn’t he lowered his head and brushed his mouth against her. Just a soft touch, a feathery caress. She trembled beneath his hands, a faint tremor racing through her body. He licked her bottom lip, tasting the hint of the flavor of strawberries, and his cock flexed in response.

Jonah took his time licking back and forth across her lip, He could sense a skittishness mixed with the heat. Slow, he told himself, Very slow. It will be worth it.

In a moment her lips parted and he danced his tongue inside, licking and tasting, touching the wet surfaces of that hot cavern. Her own delicate tongue touched his, tentatively at first, then more boldly. He deepened the kiss, sliding his hands around to her back to press her closer to him. He angled his head and pushed his tongue in even deeper.

Dakota sighed into his mouth, clutching his arms and leaning into him. Even with the layers of fabric separating them he could feel her hard nipples pushing into his chest and he growled low in his throat. Sliding his mouth away from hers he kissed his way along her jawline and down the side of her neck. At the sensitive spot where neck and shoulder joined he nipped lightly, then soothed the skin with his tongue.

She vibrated with need and tightened her hold on him. He wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and take her right there on the floor but he was certain that would frighten her and that was the last thing he wanted. He ground his teeth as he reached for control, knowing this dance would be a long, slow one.

He took his time kissing her neck, nipping and licking then soothing with his mouth. In tiny increments he moved his lips lower to the swell of her breasts, teasing her with the tip of his tongue. Her skin had the fresh bouquet of persimmon and a tantalizing mixture of herbs that ramped up the heat in his body. He wanted to bury his face in her flesh and lose himself in the wonderful mixture of scents.