Authors: Cynthia Eden

Never Cry Wolf (8 page)

BOOK: Never Cry Wolf

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But if he’d lied to the coyotes, how did she know he wasn’t lying to her?
Especially since I’m lying to him.

“You’re gonna have to trust me for this to work,” he told her and his breath feathered over her cheek.

“Trust isn’t exactly easy for me.”

“Do you have a choice now?”

No.

“I’m not going to kill you to satisfy those bastards.” Flat. “And I’m not turning you over to them.”

She swallowed.

“Trust me.”

There was no one else she could trust. If he turned on her, she was dead.
But if he wanted me dead, I would have been dead last night. A shifter is always armed. One slice of his claws, and I would have been on a slab next to John.

“Now what thought just ran through your mind?” He asked, his lips coming close to hers. “What made fear flash in your eyes?”

She took a breath and tasted him. “I want my knife back.”

Lucas shook his head. “That’s not what caused the fear.”

He was very good at reading her. “You want me to trust you. I want
you
to trust
me
.” She licked her lips and watched the dip of his gaze as he followed the movement. “You don’t attack me, I don’t attack you, but I want that knife. I’m not going to be defenseless.” And she wasn’t, not really, but he didn’t know that. A woman had to keep some secrets in this world.

His lips pressed against hers and he stole her breath. Then his tongue slipped into her mouth, bringing his wild taste, and Sarah’s heart raced even faster.

The door squeaked open. “Lucas?”

He raised his head. “You’re not defenseless.” Then he eased away and called, “We’re here, Michael.”

Her gaze darted to the scalpel. It wouldn’t be hard to pick it up . . .

“It looks like a coyote hit,” Lucas said, “but I want to see the house again. There was no time yesterday. As soon as I got out of the car, the cops swarmed me.”

Ahem. Ah, yes, that had actually been
her
fault. Should she mention that part of the story now?

“Your house is still a crime scene, man.” Worry hardened Michael’s face. “It’s taped off and the cops are probably patrolling the area.”

Lucas laughed softly. “Like a few human cops are going to stop me.”

Like
anything
would stop him.

Dane had to keep his distance from the coyotes. If he came within a mile of them, they’d catch his scent. So he pulled his motorcycle to the curb, hid in the shadows, and used his night-vision binoculars to watch the bastards.

He counted ten of them. The youngest was a kid, barely looked eighteen. The oldest seemed to be skating close to forty. Two women were in the group—but he couldn’t tell if they were coyote shifters or humans.

Their base was a ranch-style house, one that was fairly secluded in a patch of woods. Nothing fancy, because the coyotes wouldn’t have wanted to draw attention to themselves. It wasn’t as easy to kill when attention was on you.

After a few moments, all of the coyotes went in the house. He lowered the binoculars and pulled out his phone. Three seconds later, he had Lucas on the line. “2408 Wyler Road.”

“Any signs of Rafe?”

Lucas had briefed them all on Sarah’s story, and Dane knew Rafael Santiago. Their paths had crossed once in Chicago. “No. No signs . . .” He inhaled, caught only the scent of coyote, “of any other shifter.”

“Keep your eyes on ’em. If you see
any
sign of a wolf . . .”

“I’ll report right away.”

“Do that. And watch your back.”

He always did. Dane tucked the phone into his pocket. It was going to be one damn long night. But maybe the coyotes would oblige him and produce the wolves—then he could have some ass-kicking fun with his pack.

A twig snapped behind him. Dane didn’t glance back. He kept his gaze on the house.
Ass-kicking fun.
Looked like he’d get that good time sooner than he’d thought. His claws pushed through the tops of his fingertips. The wild scent of shifter filled his nose.

So did the lush scent of woman.

“It’s really not my style to attack from behind.” Her voice floated to him. Soft, sexy.

Interesting.

He spun around. She smiled at him, a flash of white teeth and sexy red lips. Small, curved, and tempting, the pretty redhead stood just in front of a line of thick trees. The moon shone down on her, illuminating her pale skin.

“It’s not
my
style,” she said again, and her gaze darted just over Dane’s shoulders. “But it is his.”

And a freight train slammed into him.

To appease Michael, Lucas waited until the patrol car’s tail-lights disappeared around the corner, then he jumped out of the SUV and headed for his house. Sarah moved just as quickly, hurrying out and sticking to the shadows as she headed for the house on Bryton Road.

The scents of the night hit him. Gasoline. Alcohol. Stale cigarettes. And blood. Lots of blood.

He slipped under the yellow police tape and stalked toward the porch steps. With his enhanced vision, he could still see the giant bloodstain that marred the wood. The poor bastard had bled out fast.

Guess that was a good thing.

Some prey deserved to suffer, some didn’t.

“I’m still not scenting wolf,” Michael muttered from behind them. “Least not any wolves that don’t belong here.”

’Cause he let some of his pack visit—very rarely, but sometimes.

“Maybe . . . maybe the attacker blocked his scent,” Sarah said quietly, near the porch but with her face carefully averted from the steps. “It is possible, you know.”

Yeah, he knew. He’d blocked his scent with herbs a few times when he didn’t want the coyotes to know that he was hunting. But . . .

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeper. So many scents. Some old, some faint. Others fresher, stronger.

Sweeter.

His eyes opened and, very slowly, Lucas turned his head to stare at Sarah. She’d wrapped her arms around her body, as if to keep warm. But it wasn’t a cold night. Far from it.

“Looks like the crime-scene guys from the LAPD did a good sweep of this place,” Michael said, not seeming to pay them any attention. “Can’t even find cigarette butts on the ground.”

“John didn’t smoke,” she said at once.

Lucas’s nostrils flared. “Someone did. I can still smell the ash.” But the evidence had been removed.

Because he was watching her so closely, Lucas saw her flinch. Interesting.

“Time to pay a visit to Marley,” he said.

“
What?
” Michael spun around. “Aw, hell, you still got that demon playing watchdog for you?”

Sarah’s brows pulled low. “Marley?”

He caught her hand. “Come on.” No sense going inside. The dead guy had never made it past the porch.

They’d parked the SUV down the deserted street, but he didn’t head back to it. Instead, he cut through the thin line of trees and snaked to the left, toward the old, rundown house that bordered his strip of property. That place was his, too, though no one would ever be able to find a record that said so.

He’d bought both places because he liked his privacy and they were the only two houses on the street. Yeah, he liked privacy, but he also liked protection. That was where Marley came in.

He didn’t bother knocking when he bounded onto the sagging porch, he just kicked the door in.

“Lucas!” Sarah’s horrified whisper.

An old woman spun to face him, her hair stark white and her face etched with deep lines. She shuffled toward them, her steps small and mincing. “What do you—why are you here?” Beady eyes swept the group.

He growled. “Cut the damn act, Marley.”

The old woman vanished in an instant. Demons and their glamour. Those skilled at cloaking magic could project any image they wanted to the world. Marley transformed in front of them, the white hair darkening to black, the deep wrinkles slipping away until smooth skin remained. Another mask? Probably, but it was the one Marley liked to use the most.

“Why are you here?” She asked again, glaring. “You said I’d be left alone, Lucas. I did my part. I burned those bastards to ash, but
you said I’d be left alone.
”

Ah, another deal. A demon who’d been desperate to slip away from the world and a wolf who’d needed vengeance. Their agreement had been fairly satisfactory.

“There a particular reason you let those assholes haul me away, huh, Marley?” He stepped closer and the demon didn’t back up. Surprising. For a while, Marley had backed up when anyone came close.
That’s why she’d wanted to hide in the woods. To stay far away from everyone and everything.

Since he’d needed a guard on his house who didn’t smell of wolf, he’d humored her. Humor time was over.

Her lips lifted in a taunting half-smile. “I knew the cops wouldn’t keep you for long.”

“You saw the attack.” Not a question. He heard footsteps behind him as Michael and Sarah came inside the cabin.

Marley’s blue gaze—another lie, a demon’s real eyes were black—lowered a bit, then flickered to Michael. “I . . . I didn’t see the kill.” Quiet. “By the time I caught the scent of blood on the wind . . .”

A demon’s sense of smell was nowhere near as powerful as a shifter’s.

“. . . it was too late. The human was dead.”

Great. “I let you stay here because you said you’d guard the house.” His one retreat. The place away from the pack. Now the place was stained with blood. Hell, wasn’t everything he touched stained with blood?

“I
have
been guarding it, okay? I went out—I do that sometimes, you know. If you want full-time surveillance, get a freaking video camera.”

Right. Because he wanted footage of himself shifting into a wolf. That would be great when it fell into the wrong hands and got blasted all over fucking kingdom-come.

“I didn’t see the kill.” Marley tossed back her hair and lifted her hand. Her finger pointed straight at Sarah. “But I did see her.”

Sarah didn’t gasp in shock. Didn’t start yelling that the demon was lying. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Her face appeared totally blank.

“Something you need to tell me, Sarah?” he asked softly but Marley’s words weren’t a surprise. Just confirmation. He’d caught Sarah’s scent near the porch. Fainter, but still sweet vanilla.

Her gaze tracked to his. “I was supposed to be with John. We were supposed to meet at your place—”

“How did you even know about his place?” Michael interrupted, his voice rough as the wolf began to near the surface. “You and the dead human shouldn’t have—”

“Rafe knew about the place, so that meant I knew.”

He was getting real sick of old Rafe.

Sarah held Lucas’s stare. “I was late. I should have been here sooner,
but I was late.
”

If she hadn’t been late, would he have come back and found her dead body on his doorstep, too? And would he even have cared?

Wouldn’t have known her. Wouldn’t have kissed her.

A dead human.

Would he have cared?

His claws broke through his fingertips. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Can’t trust her.
He knew that. The woman wore secrets like other women wore perfume.

“What was the point? When I got here, he was already dead.” She stared down at her hands. She turned them over, staring at the palms. Lucas thought of the pool of blood that had surrounded the body.

Did it stain your hands, Sarah?

“You weren’t there,” she told him. “
No one
was there. So I ran.”

“Then the cops came,” Marley muttered, watching Sarah closely, “right after your girl vanished.” She shrugged. “So I had to vanish for a time, too. Until those jerks stopped searching the property.”

“No wonder you gave me an alibi.” Lucas cocked his head as his gaze slid back to Sarah. She was still staring at her hands. Still seeing blood? “You’re the reason the cops tossed my ass in jail.”

She dropped her hands, and her gaze lifted to his. “
No.
You got tossed in jail because you’ve got a history with the cops. It’s not my fault you and that detective—detective—”

“Bruce Langston.” Dickhead.

“—have some kind of war going on.” She straightened her shoulders. “I wasn’t just going to leave John’s body out here to rot. He deserved better than that.”

“Most folks don’t deserve the way they die.”

Michael crowded in close to her. “And some folks do.” His eyes had narrowed with suspicion. “Some folks deserve exactly what they get.”

BOOK: Never Cry Wolf

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