Claws Bared Page 15
I got to my feet and winced at the muscle spasms rolling over my back. A walk out to the lobby would accomplish two things—stretch out my body and allow me to see if my shadow had moved on to greener pastures.
The lobby was empty except for the young kit working the front desk. He buried himself in paperwork after glancing over at me.
My attention moved to the green pickup at the far end of the parking lot. Trace didn’t look at me directly but I knew he was watching.
I rolled my shoulders back and strolled toward the truck. I’d had enough of this crap.
It was time to dump the babysitter.
Trace didn’t flinch as I rapped on the window. He rolled it down slowly, wrestling with the well-worn mechanism.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” I jerked a thumb back toward the hotel. “I’m tired of this. Go home and tell your uncle I’m not going to stop until I find out who killed Hancock, with or without his approval.”
He looked at me, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “I can’t do that.”
“Can’t or won’t?” I snarled. “Didn’t know the men down here had no balls.”
A flash of anger in his eyes almost sent me back a step. “I got them.” His left hand slipped down from the steering wheel. “Want to see?”
“Nothing I’d be interested in,” I deadpanned back. It took all my mental strength not to look down into his lap.
“You sure ’bout that?” Trace replied. “This fellow of yours, he doesn’t seem very tough.”
“He’s tough enough for me,” I snapped. “At least he’s helping me find a murderer instead of sitting in a parking lot jerking off when no one’s looking.”
The door flew open. I jumped back, barely clearing the metal.
Trace stepped out and advanced on me, his hands on his hips. “You do your job and I’ll do mine. I don’t care who killed him but I do care about the family.” He paused. A sudden softness replaced the anger on his face. “Including you.”
I resisted the urge to step back. I felt my cheeks go warm as my pulse shot up into the danger zone, responding to Trace’s musk. A surge of heat crept down my spine, pooling between my legs.
I may not have wanted him in my mind but my body was betraying me fast and furiously.
“What do you see in him?” Trace asked with a jerk of his head toward the hotel. “I mean, a human?”
“I...” My throat went dry. “I’ve always dated humans.”
I couldn’t have sounded lamer if I’d tried.
“Well then,” Trace drawled, “how do you know you’d be happier with him than with me?”
The directness took me aback, robbing me of speech for a second.
Trace dragged his eyes over my body, any attempt at subtlety gone. “I know you can’t Change. I don’t care.” His blue eyes found mine. “I’m not proposing marriage here. I’m just making an offer. Come with me for a bit and see what happens.”
“I think I can guess what’ll happen.” I tried to sound flippant but it fell flat.
“Come on. Don’t you want to cut loose?” Trace leaned in, his voice now a seductive whisper. “I know you’ve got to hold back with him, you can’t let yourself go. Don’t you want to know what it’s like to let it all out, Changed or not?”
I swallowed, feeling the tension grow between us.
I’d left the farm when I was still too young to understand all the urges and needs of Felis women. I’d run with the youngsters, giggling and snickering when we saw the teenagers dash into the barn for a quick tryst, wondering what the fuss was all about.
Ruth had been in charge of what passed for sex education back then, and grateful parents sent their kits over for the Talk. We’d sat in a circle, just the girls, with the boys off in the forest until it was their turn.
I didn’t remember much of the speech due to embarrassment and a shared case of the giggles with the others, but one point came through loud and clear, breaking through the bashfulness.
Felis love was fierce and possessive, a crash of emotions drowning out everything else. Scratching our mates was only the visible sign of love. The emotional and physical dedication was intoxicating, almost overwhelming for some. We scratched and bit, owned and were owned inside and out.
There was a reason we tended to mate for life.
Like the others I’d covered my mouth and tittered, relieved when Ruth had released us with a wave of her hand, pointing to the freshly baked apple pies as payment for our attention.
I’d never really explored the depths of my passion with any of my human lovers. True, they’d all been one-night stands before Bran came along, but even now I held back. I always held back part of myself with him because I was afraid of hurting him. Even without claws I’d already marked Bran more than once and I didn’t know what would happen if I lost complete control and surrendered to my inner emotions.
Felis didn’t kill Felis.
I could kill Bran. Changed or unChanged, I didn’t know what would happen if I let myself go, let my feelings run rampant and dragged my body along for the ride.
I just didn’t know.
I couldn’t risk it.
“I see you thinking,” Trace said. “I’m offering you a chance to see what it’d be like. No commitment, no questions.” He extended his hand, letting it hang between us. “Let me take you for a ride.” His lips tweaked into a smile. “I won’t tell.”
I bit down on my bottom lip, chasing the sharp pain to keep my mind clear. “I don’t cheat.”
Trace chuckled. “He’s only a human, Reb. He’s not one of us. Think about it, what can a mere human offer you?” he sneered.
I drew back, pulling myself out of danger. The simmer in my blood settled down to a dull whine and then to nothing.
“Himself.” A burning spread over my back, the scarred tissue heating up under my shirt. “And all I can offer him is myself.”
I drew a deep breath, trying to cleanse my system of Trace’s approach.
I needed to get this investigation back on track now before I lost any hope of keeping sane.
“Did you know Hansa was a reporter working undercover at the club?”
Trace’s expression went from angry and aroused to confused and curious. The seductive tone fell away. “What?”
“His real name was Michael Hancock. He was working as a stripper to get information on something or someone at the club.”
“On what?” Trace frowned. “The family?”
I shrugged. “We don’t know yet. Bran’s getting what information he can.”
“Cassie Prosser,” Trace said. “You think she brought him in to run undercover.”
“It’s likely,” I confessed. “Bran’ll know as soon as he starts talking to her if she’s part of this or not.”
“And if she knows about us and called this fellow to dig up the story...” He shook his head. “This just keeps getting worse, doesn’t it?”
“By leaps and bounds.” I hesitated, caught between what I needed to do and what I didn’t want to do.
“I need your help.” I was running into the middle of a minefield wearing clown shoes.
A devilish smile appeared. “You need me?” He tilted his head to one side, bright blue eyes catching mine. “You need me,” he said proudly.
The grinding sound spun me around in time to see Brandon’s car stab into a parking spot, pebbles flying in all directions.
I stepped back from Trace, wincing inside.
Bran stepped out and advanced on the two of us. The leather duster whipped around his legs as he strode right up to Trace. He didn’t body-check me out of the way but he might as well have, sliding between the two of us with obvious intent.
“Is this punk bothering you again?” Bran didn’t look at me, eyes locked with Trace’s.
“Stop.” I sighed, wishing men weren’t so...well, men. “I need to talk to both of you.” I took a step back. “Let’s go inside.”
Bran didn’t move.
“We are not going to do this here.” My mouth felt like it was filled with sand. “You can’t Change out here in the open. And you—” I directed this to Bran, “—should know better.”
Neither man moved or looked at me.
“I have a murderer to catch. So you can either whip out your dicks and measure them here or come back to the hotel room and help me figure this out. Both of you.”
Two sets of eyes flashed toward me before returning to their standoff.
“I need Bran to help figure out the journalist angle. And I need you, Trace, to give me the inside track.” My throat felt as if it were on fire. “I’ve got no one inside the Pride I can trust. I can’t trust Carson.”
Trace’s attention flickered to me. “Why not?”
“He had enforcers take something out of Hansa’s house and he won’t tell me what. The same thugs who searched my hotel room,” I said. “They’re helping him hide something under the guise that Hancock was endangering the Pride.”
Trace’s left eyebrow rose.
“I don’t know if he was or not,” I admitted, “but I’m not leaving until I figure out who killed him and why. I sure as hell can’t trust your uncle—he’s a Board member and has to do what’s right for the Pride.” I sucked in my breath, praying I was making the right call. “I hope I can trust you to want justice for a dead man.”
He pressed his lips together into a tight line. I could see the gears and wheels spinning in his mind.
Follow me and possibly betray his family. Don’t help me and risk allowing a killer to go free, Felis or not.
It didn’t escape me that he could also be looking at a way to get into my pants.
“She wants both of us.” Trace addressed Bran, ignoring me. “Guess you’re not enough on your own.”
“I’ve had no complaints,” Bran replied. “At least I don’t slink around with my tail between my legs, playing with what’s not mine.”
Trace’s nostrils flared again. He turned to me, pointedly ignoring Bran. “My first priority is to protect the family. That includes finding out who killed this guy and keeping our secret. If it’s one of our own he needs to be disciplined, at the very least. If there’s corruption...” He chewed on his bottom lip. “My uncle’s an honest man. I don’t like to think he’s involved but I won’t let something taint the family. Board members come and go but the family’s eternal.”
He eyed Bran. “How about a truce until this is done?”
Bran waited ten heartbeats before responding, giving me a near heart attack. “Done.” He offered his hand. “Then we’ll take this up again.”
I didn’t have to ask what “this” was.
I spun on my heel and headed for the hotel, cursing all men, Felis and human, under my breath.
Chapter Eleven
The hotel clerk raised an eyebrow as I strode by, the two men in tow. He didn’t say anything but I knew the rumor mill would be running overtime.
I could do worse.
I turned when I reached the door. “Ground rules. No fighting, no sparring, no spitting. Either of you break them and I’ll toss your ass out onto the street.” I glared at Bran. “Either of you.”
“Does she bite much?” Trace asked as I fumbled with the door key.
“Enough,” Bran answered with a note of pride in his voice.
“Stop.” I pointed through to the empty room. “Just. Stop.”
The two sprinted inside—Trace sat at the table while Bran took the edge of the bed. The territory grab didn’t surprise me.
“You.” I gestured at Bran. “Talk.” I knelt down by the minifridge and dug inside for a bottle of cold water.
“Mike Hancock was contacted by Cassie Prosser six months ago. She wanted an undercover reporter to come in and investigate the club.” There was smugness in his voice as he glanced at Trace. “Bribery concerns. How the club kept getting the votes to keep going.”
A knot in my stomach untangled. He hadn’t been seeking out the family. It didn’t explain how the Felis got involved but he hadn’t been actively digging us out.
“She didn’t say anything to me.” I frowned. “I met her when I was checking out the club with Carson, right after I arrived.”
“Why would she?” Bran tilted his head to one side. “She met you hanging out at the crime scene with the chief. Automatically on the other side.”
“Other side of what?”
Bran looked at Trace for a second before replying. “Carson is officially neutral on the decision to have the club, as far as his public statements go. He has to be neutral. He’s the police chief. But he’s been a quiet supporter from the start.”
I emptied the water bottle. “But shouldn’t she have told him she was running someone undercover at the club? When he’s found dead, supposedly from a bear attack?”
“When it’s well known that the chief’s wife is one of their best customers? And Hancock’s sliced up like deli meat?” He looked at me sideways. “She’s buying the bear attack story but she sure thinks someone smeared Hancock with honey beforehand.”
“Ouch.” I chewed on the water bottle mouth before speaking. “How did Prosser hook up with Hancock?”
“Online. Offered him the chance to find a juicy exposé on corruption in Penscotta. Come on down, go undercover and dig where she can’t go.” Bran plucked the bottle from my fingers and tossed it in the garbage. “Going to save the world. Or at least this small pocket of it.”
“Why did she talk to you?” I asked. A long thin strand of blond hair had worked its way free of my ponytail and I now wrapped it around my finger. “She could have come out to the state troopers, gone over Carson’s head. Why you?”
“She’s still confused on what to do. Call the troopers in, get the media exposure she and the town don’t want for what’s supposed to be a simple animal attack. Sort of the same reason why Carson’s kept it quiet, flipped ’round. Add in the simple fact that she’s got no proof of these accusations other than Hancock’s dead body, and she’s stopped dead in her tracks.” He grinned. “I, I have professional credentials.” He puffed his chest out so far I was afraid he’d pop. “In case you’ve forgotten I do have some standing in the journalism area.”
“And you didn’t tell her you were with me.” I allowed myself a smirk.
“And I didn’t feel the need to volunteer that information,” he added dryly.
“What did Hancock tell her before he was killed?”
“Nothing. They met about a week ago as part of their routine.” Bran let out a sigh. “He told her he was working on it and not to bother him. She got all pissy about it but let him ride. Temperamental artist and all that crap.”
“Is that standard for this sort of work?”
“Depends on the situation.” He spread his hands. “Sometimes you don’t want to show your hand until you’ve got all the ducks in a row and there’s nothing left to find. Hancock looks like that type of guy.”
“Where’s the proof?” Trace interrupted.
“Either on the cell phone that mysteriously vanished from the body or in the twins’ hands. Which means probably destroyed or at the least, well hidden.” I shook my head. “Laptop, netbook, handwritten notes, whatever he was digging up went with the twins. And to whoever they’re answering to—could be Carson, could be another Board member.”
“Hmm.” Trace rubbed his chin. “Lots of places to dump stuff ’round here. If they took anything it’s long gone.”
“Not a chance they’d keep it as a souvenir, something to sell later on?” Bran asked.
“Not if they’re smart,” Trace said. “Those two, they’ve been Pride enforcers for years. Plenty of dirt under their nails if you get what I’m saying.”
“Great.” I rubbed my eyes. “So any evidence of corruption at the club is long gone. Bet they were copies of financial records showing payoffs.
It’d be the best evidence to put forward.” I looked at Trace. “Any chance you can get the boys to fess up?”
Trace snorted. “Not in this lifetime. They’re loyal to the end.” He looked over at Bran. “I’d stay clear of those two if you can.”
“Too late,” Bran replied.
I grabbed another bottle of water. “Okay so there’s no chance of retrieving the evidence.” The white plastic cap gave me a hard time as I twisted it. “But we’re not trying to build a court case. It’s an animal attack, remember.”
Both men reached out, offering to open the bottle for me.
I snarled and wrestled the top off with a violent yank. The shuddering pangs up my arm reminded me I was still recovering from the run. “Someone on the town council’s taking bribes. That’s from Cassie Prosser herself and I don’t see any reason to doubt her.”
Trace spoke from his seat at the table. “There’s only five people on the council.” His eyes narrowed. “And only one Felis.”
“Lisa Darning.” I completed the thought. “But why the hell would she get involved with this and why kill Hancock?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Bran looked up from the screen. “She was involved with the payoffs and didn’t want to be exposed. She’s already voting to keep the club open.”
“And she’s visited it as well as knowing Hancock.” I shook my head. “She could have dumped the body anywhere out here—it’d never be found. Why leave him there? Right behind the club where he worked? It may not send up red flags for humans but it sure as heck set off the air raid sirens for the Pride.”
“Why kill him in the first place?” Trace broke in. “No offense, but this ain’t Felis business. It’s between the humans and we don’t have anything to do with it. If that club stays open or closed it don’t make a difference to us financially.” His tone took on a steely resolve. “We take care of our own. No one in the Pride ever goes hungry, no matter what’s happening in the world.” He shook his head. “I’ve known Lisa for years. She’s not a killer. She’s tough and one hell of a woman but she’s not a murderer.”