Wolf at the Door (10 page)

Which meant the only victim Wolfe had taken
here who meant anything to Timber was Rebecca Morgan. He’d attacked
one, killed another, then gone after Timber...kicking things off
with the death of a wolf in her pack. Had the other ones meant
anything to him? Or had they just been warm-ups?

Sometimes knowing more just opened up more
questions he couldn’t answer. But years doing this job had taught
Brant patience. Sometimes, the bad guy slipped up, but waiting for
a mistake meant more and more had to die. Even then, the good guys
didn’t always win, unfortunately. All he could do was keep digging
and do everything in his power to break this case. It would have to
be enough. Had to.

“Thank you, Ms. Dawson. Had you ever seen the
man who attacked you before?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you mind if I ask, how did you get
away?”

She closed her eyes, but not before a tear
slipped out over her cheek. “Someone else was going to their car,
which was parked by the alley. They stopped like they’d heard
something and I started fighting. He spooked. I snatched up a rock
and bashed him on the side of his head. I ran four blocks before I
thought to get off the street and ask for help.”

Brandt nodded. So she’d most likely been a
victim of opportunity.

Nathan gave a low growl, as if thinking along
the same lines as Brandt. There was a strong chance Wolfe’s first
few victims here were just...for fun. His stomach twisted at the
thought.

“She called me first,” Nathan said, his voice
low. “I called the Hounds on my way out there, but the son of a
bitch was gone by the time I arrived. I didn’t realize it was the
same man as your killer until she saw the picture you gave me, but
I can identify him by scent. So can every enforcer in my pack. He’s
not getting into Delphi territory.”

Brandt lifted an eyebrow. “How’d you manage
that?”

“I ripped a chunk of fabric off her shirt
before your Hounds could catalog everything.”

“That was evidence.” But even as Brandt said
it, he couldn’t blame the wolf, and the hard line of Nathan’s jaw
told him Nathan didn’t regret it either. “But, hell, it was
smart.”

The Delphi alpha gave a gruff snort. He might
as well have said
No shit
, and Brandt couldn’t help
grinning. Delphi was probably the safest place to be because of the
man in front of him and, hell, Brandt wished he could convince
Timber she’d be safer with Delphi at her back.

Ms. Dawson fidgeted uneasily in her seat.

“Can I go?” She squeezed Nathan’s hand
tighter and Brandt nodded.

“Yes, thank you.”

She might not have thought what she’d told
them was very helpful, but she’d given him far more to work with
than she thought. She’d confirmed that the man she’d seen matched
their photo of Charles Wolfe. And now he had a scar on his left
temple.

With the possibility that Wolfe had struck
the first few victims at random, Brandt was left with one lingering
question, but it wasn’t one Ms. Dawson could answer. Only Shifter
Town Enforcements from surrounding states could provide that
information. Had Charles Wolfe truly gone latent, or had he been
killing all along while he searched for Timber?

And if so, could there be anything in one of
those cases that could lead them to him?

Brandt watched while Ms. Dawson slowly rose
to leave. Her legs shook so badly Nathan had to help her. Brandt
leaned back and waited for Nathan to see her out safely and return.
The Delphi alpha wasn’t the kind of man to let something go, and
he’d latched onto Timber’s possible involvement as soon as Brandt
produced Timber’s picture. And Nathan wasn’t likely to let
something like that go.

Brandt could ignore it, but he needed
Delphi’s cooperation. Needed their help.

Which meant trusting the wolf-shifter now
planted in front of him, arms crossed. Again. They’d never been
friends, he and Nathan, but after Brandt had spent the first year
of his career as alpha here proving he’d back the shifters under
his protection, they’d developed a working relationship.

One dedicated to keeping the shifters under
their shared protection safe.

For some reason, Brandt couldn’t help but
feel like they’d both failed Kim Dawson.

“What does the Bear Creek alpha have to do
with his?”

Brandt gestured to the chair. “Might want to
have a seat. This could take a while.”

Nathan sank into the chair in front of him,
his elbows braced on his knees as he leaned forward. “Hopefully
that means you’re going to tell me all of it.”

Most of it, yeah. There were things Timber
had told him, details that Nathan didn’t need to know. But he
deserved to know the gist of it, if for no other reason than that
it was up to Nathan to keep his pack safe. Brandt would do the best
he could, but he had more to protect than those under Nathan’s
care.

“I’m not sure what Tate has told you already,
so I’ll start from the beginning. We suspect that the man who
attempted to rape Ms. Dawson, Charles Wolfe, is a serial killer
known as the Wolfman. The one who killed twelve women over the
course of a year—”

“Except, the Wolfman was human. I followed
the case. It was all over the news.”

Brandt grimaced. “He
was
human.
Shortly before his first victim, he became obsessed with a
wolf-shifter female. He ended up abducting her. Told her she was
his destined mate. A lot of the werewolf bullshit you see in shitty
teen movies these days.”

Nathan gave a soft growl.

“He demanded she change him. When she
wouldn’t, he started killing. He kept his ‘mate’ alive, and after
she escaped he stopped killing. At least, we think he did. I’m not
so sure, now.” Not after today. Brandt was now sure if Ms. Dawson
hadn’t managed to get away, she’d have been raped and killed just
like Wolfe’s other victims.

There had to be more that had happened
between Timber’s escape and when the Wolfman found her again.
Brandt just didn’t know how many incidents, or how her escape had
affected his routine.

“His ‘mate’...”

“Was Timber Kearney. The Bear Creek
alpha.”

Nathan rocked back in his chair. “Shit. I
knew the woman had demons but—” He let out a soft whistle.

“I don’t know all the details of the time
spent with Wolfe and—”

Nathan nodded. “I get it. I don’t need to
know. Do you think he’s after her again?”

“The most recent victim was a member of her
pack. He left a gift from that kill at Timber’s front door. I’m
certain he’s after her again, but what he’ll do in the meantime, or
while he’s thwarted, I don’t know.”

“Would explain why I ended up with a chunk of
her pack.” Nathan drummed his fingertips against his knees. His
nostrils flared slightly. “Also explains why you smell like her.
Though why you’re playing bodyguard instead of moving her into
witness protection...”

“She won’t go. Believe it or not, Shifter
Town Enforcement has pretty crappy track record for actually
keeping shifters safe.”

That drew a soft laugh. Like most shifters,
Nathan had experienced his share of shitty run-ins with the law
enforcement which was supposed to be on their side. “Nah. Never
would have guessed.”

Brandt was ready to say more when his phone
rang. He reached for it automatically. “Just because I believe
Wolfe is after Timber specifically doesn’t mean I think your pack
is safe.”

“Doesn’t matter what you think. Until this
bastard is dead, I don’t judge my pack safe.”

Fair enough.

Timber Kearney
flashed across his
screen. He frowned. “Excuse me. I should take this.”

Brandt stood as he lifted the phone to his
ear.

“Brandt?” She sounded broken. Shattered. And
suddenly Nathan was standing next to him. There was no such thing
as a private conversation in a room with a shifter, and Nathan
would recognize the terror in Timber’s voice.

“Are you okay? Are you
safe?
” And if
not, he was going to fucking kill the Hounds he’d assigned to park
in front of Timber’s house.

“I’m fine.” He heard something slip across
tile. “He called. He’s been watching the house.”

He heard her sharp inhale. He knew she was
close to tears, could feel her fighting them. There was a soft
swallow on the other end of the line. “Just thought you should
know.”

“What did he say, Timber?”

She made a low whimper, so full of pain it
tore at his heart. Damn it. Hadn’t she been through enough? Hadn’t
this bastard tortured her for long enough?

Then she gave a rough sound, almost like a
shadow of a laugh, but it was hollow. No amusement behind it. “That
I don’t belong to you. That you can’t stay here every night.” She
snorted softly, and then, “I would have thought he’d figured it out
when he had to chain me down. I never belonged to him. Ever.”

Rage slammed through him and Brandt clutched
the phone. Every muscle in his body had gone rigid, taut. “No,”
Brandt said softly. “The only person you have ever belonged to is
you, Timber. Don’t let him make you forget that.”

“How did he get my number?”

“I don’t know.” But he was going to find
out.

Brandt’s gaze lifted to meet Nathan’s, the
anger inside him fanning to a full-fledged wildfire. Nathan nodded.
In some instances, Nathan still had more reach through his military
connections than Brandt would ever have.

“I’ll look into it,” Nathan whispered, and
left.

She’d been happy last night. Content.
Free
. The idea that Wolfe had been watching the entire time,
and Brandt hadn’t known, left him cold. Furious. Fuck, but he
wanted to put a bullet in Charles Wolfe’s head. The bastard had
stolen enough from this woman; she didn’t deserve to suffer
anymore.

“I’m not safe,” she said finally, softly.
“Nor is anyone near—”

“Remember, he has to go through me
first.”

“Not if you walk away now.”

Brandt closed his eyes. She was giving him an
out. She’d been raped and tortured by this man and, instead of
clinging to the one bit of protection she dared to accept, she was
giving him an out. There was no way in hell he was taking it. “I’m
not going anywhere, Timber. You won’t face him alone.”

Hell, he’d be damned if she had to face
Charles Wolfe at all.

If Brandt had it his way, he was going to be
the only person Wolfe got to see for the hopefully brief time he
had left.

Chapter Ten

Slinking from the
trees, the wolf crept behind one bush after another, confident his
charcoal coat blended into the shadows, rendering him invisible.
This was what it meant to be powerful. To be a
beast
.
Charles bared fangs at the house in front of him. He was as close
to Timber as he’d been in years, but the little bitch wasn’t
alone.

His gaze cut to the patrol car parked at the
end of her street. A man and a woman lounged against the hood, and
even from way over here he could catch their scent. Hounds. Dogs.
Filthy little mutts. He forced back the growl that built inside
him. The wind was in his favor, but if he made too much racket even
a dog would hear him.

He was pretty sure he could get inside
without them noticing, but Timber didn’t give in easily. She’d
fight, and then her pesky little guards would come racing to her
rescue. One-on-one, when the opponent was without a gun, a wolf
should always win. But they weren’t interested in playing fair, so
a Hound would never go unarmed. Lowering himself into the thick
grasses, the wolf watched them. They were the second set of guards
so far today. One patrol didn’t leave until after the next one had
arrived and searched the premises.

They were being remarkably thorough.

And they were doing it for a
wolf-shifter.

At first, Charles hadn’t understood. He’d met
Hounds before, and they’d never given a rat’s ass about shifters.
But it made sense now, after what he’d seen last night. She’d run
and played with that mutt like
he
was supposed to be her
mate. His growl simmered, and Charles flexed his paws, digging his
nails into the dirt. That was why she was so well protected. She
was fucking a Hound.

He was going to have to fix that, and soon.
Obviously, he couldn’t get to Timber with so many eyes on her, but
no fuck was worth having to watch your own men die. Charles shrank
back out of the bush and into the trees, moving fast toward the
road that cut across the field behind Timber’s house.

If there was one thing he’d learned over the
years, it was that Hounds always looked out for their own first.
The moment a few members of Shifter Town Enforcement died was the
moment they’d desert Timber.

After all, what was one wolf-shifter compared
to a few Hounds?

***

Were they blind? Nose-deaf?

Brandt ground his teeth as he glowered at the
bush not fifty feet from Timber’s house. He recognized the scent of
the wolf that had crouched there. Hell, he’d never forget that
stench, not if he lived to be a thousand. Wolfe had been right
here, watching them all, and his Hounds hadn’t had a clue. Brandt
whirled on the pair of Hounds standing beside him and they both
winced.

“Boss, we never saw him. Never—”

Brandt didn’t
care
. Right now Wolfe
was getting the upper hand. He’d watched her last night, contacted
her today, and gotten so close he might have been able to get in
that house and get her out before Brandt’s pack had any idea what
was going on.

“Do circuits from here on out. Patrols,
constantly. One of you by the car keeping an eye on the house, and
the other one doing loops, got it? Change off every half hour, and
I don’t give a shit if your legs fall off.” Brandt spun again,
assaulted once more by the musky scent of wolf. The bastard had
watched from the bushes for a good fifteen to twenty minutes. “And
check the wind. He’s smart, and he knows how to use his senses.
He’ll stay where the wind is good for him. Make sure he doesn’t
have that luxury anymore.”