Bengal's Heart (10 page)

He’d been following her ever since.

Didn’t he have his own investigation to see to? She was certain he had more resources in the area than she had managed to dig up, despite the fact that she was acquainted with several of the journalists in town, as well as the sheriff.

There was a dead end here on Banks as well as H. R. Alonzo’s murder. And what made it even worse, one of the first news stories of the morning was the report that H. R. Alonzo had died in a blaze that had swept through his Missouri home. The cause of that blaze was yet to be determined, but the unofficial report was that HR’s fireplace and the fire that had burned within it had somehow been the cause.

It would be ruled an accidental death, just as the others had been. Jonas Wyatt and the Bureau of Breed Affairs were amazingly efficient, at all times.

It would make the story she was working on more difficult. It was hard to report someone had been murdered by a Breed when a human coroner ruled the death accidental. The pictures she held were next to worthless, but not a total loss.

What the hell was going on? She couldn’t believe the Bureau would turn a killer loose, but she knew Wyatt and his enforcers. If there was a rogue Breed out there threatening the stability of the Breed community, then they would have neutralized that threat as quickly as possible. Which meant they didn’t know any more than she did.

More than likely, they were being led on the same wild-goose chase she was being led on, and refused to admit to it.

“Ms. Hawkins, you do like to live dangerously.”

Cassa came to a hard stop as Dog stepped just far enough from the other side of a tree to allow her to recognize him.

The overcast day lent a brooding, harsh quality to his expression. It cast shadows that did nothing to soften his features or to help him appear less threatening. Though Cassa doubted anything could make the Coyote Breed appear less threatening. And considering the fact that Cabal was likely not far behind her, the situation had turned into one with the potential to become rather dangerous. At least for Dog.

“And you say I like to live dangerously.” She gave a short, sarcastic little laugh. “You must be suicidal.”

“That’s the general opinion.” His lips quirked into a rueful, if not mocking, smile, and his strong white teeth gripped an ever present cigar. “But you’re definitely showing signs of following in my footsteps.”

She gave a false shiver of dread. “Bite your tongue, Coyote. I can’t think of anyone who would want to do anything so foolhardy.”

For a second, something dark and bitter flashed in his gaze, but then it cleared and the familiar icy disdain replaced it.

“Neither can I actually,” he drawled. “Which leads me to wonder exactly why you’re still in Glen Ferris. You should be in Missouri covering H. R. Alonzo’s accidental death.” His lips tilted in a cruel, cold smile. “Poor bastard burned himself to a crisp.”

“So I heard.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket as she watched him warily.

“Coroner ruled an accidental death. Did you know his will states a wish to be cremated? Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” His canines flashed warningly.

Alonzo didn’t die in a damned house fire and he knew it. Dog had been in those mountains the night before, most likely for the same reason she had been there. To find proof that the Bureau was hiding a rogue Breed. Unlike Dog though, it wasn’t the killings she wanted to reveal, it was the reason behind them. She wanted a story that wouldn’t destroy the Breeds, while she was certain Dog was more inclined to see the worst possible scenario revealed. He was rumored to be part of whatever was left of the Genetics Council. He was the muscle—no one had quite figured out for certain who held his chain.

“Why are you bothering me today, Dog?” She crossed her arms over her breasts and faced him suspiciously. “I think we’re both aware Cabal isn’t too far away.”

“Yeah, those Felines have a rather good habit of keeping track of their mates,” he commented with a slow nod of his black-streaked gray head.

The breeze whispered through the dark and light strands of hair as he turned his head against it and stared out at the river once again for long seconds.

The coarse strands rippled over his shoulders and down his neck. Long hair for a Breed, she thought. She much preferred Cabal’s golden blond and black hair. It was soft to the touch; she remembered that suddenly. Feeling his hair against her face as he leaned into her so long ago.

“I hope the memory is a pleasant one.”

She was jerked out of her reverie by Dog’s mocking voice. She stared back at him suspiciously, watching the slow, cold grin that shaped his lips.

“You’re picking into things here that you need to stay out of, girl,” he finally drawled warningly, those cloudy gray eyes flashing dangerously. “You need to get the hell out of Dodge, as they say.”

“And you need to get the hell out of my business,” she stated tightly.

His lips tightened around the cigar he still held between his teeth, before he reached up and lifted it free with two fingers.

“Girl, you need to heed a warning now and then,” he snapped back at her. “Let me help you out here. You and your mate. Drag his ass to the nearest bed, get yourself nice and warm and sit this one out. Let it the fuck go.”

“And why would I do that?” She narrowed her eyes back at him.

“Because you don’t want the answers you’re going to find here. And trust me, Jonas doesn’t want you to find them. That could make for a very sticky situation for both you and Cabal.”

“And you care for what reason?”

He stared back at her speculatively before answering. “I’m not really certain. Maybe I’ve found a conscience.”

“In a Cracker Jack box?” she snorted. “Give me a break, Dog, we both know better.”

He laughed at that. She had researched Dog, perhaps almost as much as she had researched Jonas Wyatt. The two men were like the opposite sides of the same coin. Not exactly a good-and-evil type thing—shades in between, but poles apart.

Dog wasn’t a man that would listen to a conscience, even if he had one. She had her suspicions about who and what he actually was, but she kept them to herself. There were levels of being wrong. If she was wrong about him, then it could be such a major wrong as to be fatal.

“Cracker Jack box,” he repeated musingly. “Interesting. But, as I was saying, it’s time for you to leave Glen Ferris. I figure I’m the Breed to ensure you do just that.”

“And you’re going to accomplish this how?” She laughed.

Cassa was almost amused. She had to admit, Dog taking an interest in this made her distinctly uncomfortable—an interest in her that she didn’t particularly like right now.

He inhaled slowly. His smile was positively even more evil than before.

“I have my ways,” he drawled, then stepped forward.

Her hands dropped from her breasts as she tensed, stepping back.

“You know he’s watching,” she whispered, feeling her heart race as panic began to override the normal calm she always fought to achieve.

“Of course he’s watching.” His smile was predatory, his de meanor threatening. “He’s always watching you, Ms. Hawkins. If not him, then someone he directs. You are always being watched, at all times.”

She swallowed tightly. Cabal wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t have her watched like that. She shook her head, trying to understand why he would do such a thing, if he was.

“You’ve got a screw loose,” he said softly. “Dangerously loose. Do you think he wouldn’t see the threat you could be?”

“So you’re going to do what? Kill me while he watches?” she snapped back, her head swinging around as she fought to catch sight of Cabal. He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t allow anyone to harm her, ever. If he was going to kill her, then he would do the job himself, it was that simple.

“Kill you?” He chuckled at the suggestion, as his eyes glinted with brief amusement. “I have no desire to kill you, Ms. Hawkins. But I have to admit, I was wondering how sweet your kiss would taste. Tell me, has he kissed you yet? Touched you?” There was an edge of anticipation that surrounded him now, that filled his expression. An edge of hunger.

“He’ll kill you.”

He laughed again. “You think you know him so well, don’t you, Ms. Hawkins? Well enough to believe he would lose his mind if I touched his woman.”

“He came after you last night,” she reminded him.

“He did.” He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “I knew he would. He’s a Bengal. I was chasing you, he was chasing my team. You were an incidental.”

An incidental. Yeah, that sounded like the story of her life. Incidentally left out in the cold and in the dark.

“For whatever reason,” she replied. “He’ll kill you if you touch me.”

“He’s a Bengal.” Hard, sharp canines flashed in the dreary light. “He’ll wait. He’ll watch. At this moment he’s calculating the chances that I’ll actually touch you. He’s deduced there’s a ninety percent chance I will, and he’s deliberating his move. He’s a Bengal, my dear Lady Hawkins. Cold. Manipulating. Calculating. Deceiving.”

“Bored.” Cabal’s voice seemed to echo inside her head as he stepped around the trunk of a nearby tree, his broad shoulders rippling beneath the dark long-sleeved T-shirt he wore, his arms resting casually at his side. Black jeans conformed to long, powerful legs, while black biker boots gleamed with a dull, dusty edge on his feet.

Cassa’s heartbeat kicked in; it slammed against her chest as her womb gave a surge of complete feminine surrender and a slick, wet heat dampened the flesh between her thighs.

Out of hand. He might as well have kissed her already, mated her, because her body was more than interested in giving up any fight her mind might want to wage. Traitorous hormones surged and rioted through her body, even as she fought back every reaction that weakened her knees.

His amber-flecked green eyes glittered in his bronze face; a stubble of a beard darkened his lower jaw and gave him a rough, dangerous appearance. Even more so than Dog.

And he did look bored.

Dog turned a knowing look on her, a sandy brow arching in mocking acknowledgment of his own assessment.

Looks were deceiving, Cassa knew, and as Dog had said, Cabal could be manipulative, calculating, deceiving. She wasn’t a Breed; she couldn’t smell the danger in the air, but she could feel it. Cabal was anything but bored. He was controlled, a quiet, ready control that filled Cassa with tension.

“She thinks she knows you, Bengal,” Dog drawled as he flicked a glance back at Cabal. “She thinks you’re possessive of her.”

Cassa took another step back. There was something about Dog’s tone, about the mocking amusement suddenly filling it, that warned her the situation could deteriorate. Quickly.

Unfortunately, Dog wasn’t using what should have been his normally superior Breed senses, because he followed her step for step. A move Cabal watched with predatory awareness.

“Does she then?” Cabal asked, the smooth, dark resonance of his tone sending a shiver racing down her spine as he followed each move Dog made.

Cassa stepped farther away, but to the side, edging closer to Cabal as he turned his hand, palm up, toward her. That smallest indication had her heart tripping with something other than dread or fear.

It was that slow outreach of his fingers. At first, a casual movement, nothing to really suggest anything emotional, anything to attach hope to. But those fingers, long and broad, powerful, his palm held out to her. It became a lifeline to something she wasn’t certain of, something she knew she couldn’t refuse.

Keeping her eye carefully on Cabal, she moved for the safety of that touch. Something urged her, warned her, that if she didn’t get to him, if she didn’t hold on tight, then she would never be safe.

“Not quite yet.”

◆ CHAPTER 5
◆

Startled, a weak cry fell from Cassa’s lips as she felt Dog’s fingers wrap around her wrist, holding her in place. There was no pain. She knew with full mating heat that the female mate couldn’t tolerate the touch of a male other than her mate.

She stared from Dog to Cabal. Her gaze met cloudy gray eyes then amber-flecked green as a low growl emanated from Cabal’s chest. She could feel the tension rising in the air around them as Dog’s fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“What are you trying to prove?” She stared up at Dog suspiciously as Cabal paced closer, his gaze narrowed on them.

“I warned you, didn’t I?” he said softly. “He’s a Bengal, Ms. Hawkins, I warned you of that. He won’t risk his mission for you.”

“Dog, you’re pushing your luck,” Cabal warned him, his voice rumbled and deep. “Let her go.”

Dog’s lips quirked as he lifted his brow inquisitively toward Cassa. “His brother is much more volatile with his mate.”

It was a well-known fact that Tanner Reynolds would attack any man that dared to touch his mate, Scheme.

“We’re not mates,” she said, fighting to tamp down the anger and the disappointment that Cabal wasn’t doing exactly what she knew any other Breed mate would have been doing.

Dog merely chuckled again, but seemed to pay no attention as Cabal stepped closer. Cassa could see the fury sparkling in Cabal’s eyes; the amber flecks were almost neon now. Dog on the other hand looked as calm and cool as a man contemplating a cold beer rather than one going head-to-head with a Bengal.

“Oh, you’re mates,” he drawled, his eyes flicking back to Cabal. “Tell me, Cabal, why are you letting your woman roam alone? It could get dangerous around here.”

“Not for her,” Cabal stated, his tone rough and deep, the fury in it sending chills racing over her body now.

Dog’s fingers caressed her wrist. The feel of it was uncomfortable, wrong. Like nails over a chalkboard, it almost had her wincing in distaste.

“Dog, don’t make me kill you,” Cabal warned him. “Release her.”