Bite Deep (17 page)

After she'd resigned herself to her fate, she'd grimly set about making the most of her situation. After petitioning wealthy family friends, she'd raised the much-needed funds to drag the house into the current century and to a standard she was proud of, complete with handcrafted hickory floors, raw wood beams on the ceiling, a two-story library, theatre room, indoor pool and a fully equipped gym.

Downstairs in one of the lounge rooms, she noticed Vaughn talking quietly to Renee beside the billiard table. It was an hour before lights out and a sprinkling of women were sprawled out on couches or watching the news.

When Vaughn saw her, he ended the conversation with Renee and walked over. She waited for him, thinking how strange it was, not being able to formally acknowledge what he had once meant to her and the bond they shared, currently sleeping soundly upstairs. They hadn't parted on terrible terms, especially since she had agreed to keep their affair secret and his name off Alice's birth certificate. If her brother knew his own Enforcer had gotten her pregnant, he would have forced Vaughn to marry her to preserve the family honour. Then her career really would have been over. But Karla had decided that when she did marry, it would be to gain a foothold in the power structure of the Breed society, as her parents did before her. Not to mention Vaughn would have resented her for the rest of his days, and Breed did tend to live a long time. She wouldn't be able to stand it. So she'd simply ignored the sly speculations from the Breed community about Alice's parentage and when she had refused Drake's demands to know who the father was, he had banished her here, giving her the thankless posting of Rehabilitator. It was a difficult and demanding role, but one she had gradually taken to, and now she ruled the commune with a combination of tenderness and an iron fist.

Vaughn gave her a smile, and she was once again reminded of what had attracted her to him in the first place. He was a handsome man after all, with a heavy-built body, mocha skin and almond-shaped eyes. She wondered if he'd seen Alice since he'd arrived, and if he'd even talked to his daughter yet. He'd come to Crystal Waters briefly a few times over the years, clandestine visits that usually lasted only few days. It was always time spent watching Alice during the day, then spending his nights in Karla's bed. She always enjoyed his attentions, but there was always a sense of relief when he left. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy his company, but she got the distinct impression that he thought of her as his, a notion she didn't want to encourage.

He stopped in front of her. ‘Alice looks well. She'll grow into a fine young woman.'

‘Of course she will.' Karla gave him an indulgent smile. As if there were any doubt
her
daughter would be anything but.

Vaughn's eyes flicked away. ‘Does she ever ask you about her father?'

‘Sometimes. But not often.' She softened her voice, not wanting to be too harsh. ‘After all, you are not here often enough.'

He reached up to touch a lock of her hair. ‘It is my hope that will change.'

‘Oh?' She shifted back, uncomfortable with the public display of affection. ‘Planning on an early retirement?'

He laughed and dropped his hand. ‘I have plans.'

‘Sounds mysterious. What kind of plans?'

‘You'll find out,' he said, then deftly changed the subject, beginning to talk about events outside of Camden.

Karla didn't press, just listening to him. Whatever Vaughn was plotting, she would find out soon enough. Her gaze traced over the tall Enforcer with a pang of regret for things past. Her original affair with Vaughn had lasted two years and had been full of passion, but she knew it would never have worked with a man like him: living a life swamped in violence and intimidation, blindly obeying her brother's every whim.

‘I know the King is looking forward to coming here,' he told her. ‘He's doing well and will be here within a week.'

A sliver of fear threaded through her. Vaughn had been vague about what sickness ailed her brother, though she'd spotted him talking with Renee many times now, both heads bent and voices low. A mystery sickness that required medical assistance? Her brow wrinkled. Whatever had struck her brother down, it had to be serious to affect Breed. She prayed it wasn't infectious.

‘I hope he will enjoy the accommodation I've arranged,' she said. ‘The cabins are towards the very back of the property, but it will afford him some peace from the women here, and any unexpected guests.'

‘The accommodation is more than suitable.' Vaughn's smile widened. ‘And the bed's very comfortable, thank you. He'll be very impressed with what you've done here. I know I was.'

‘Thank you,' she murmured. ‘And I heard you're intending to visit Jericho tomorrow. Is that correct?'

‘It is.' Vaughn's smile dimmed and his eyes went hard. ‘Another aspect of my visit. An assessment of his performance. He's lost quite a few men in a short period of time. An indication something is wrong. I knew it was mistake for him to come here, to be given a position of authority. No place for a mutt.'

‘For what it's worth, I've never had a problem with him.'

‘Really.'

Karla searched his face, wondering if she imagined the trace of jealousy in his voice. She gave him a polite nod and went to turn away, but he grabbed her arm roughly, pulling her against him.

‘You haven't looked twice at me since I've arrived,' he said. ‘Are you involved with someone?'

She tried to pull her arm out of his grip, but his fingers gripped tighter. ‘That's none of your business.'

‘Who is it?' he demanded.

‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

He regarded her for a moment, then hissed through clenched teeth. ‘It's Jericho, isn't it. I heard some of the women talking about how you're always at that bar with him.'

‘Let go of my arm, Vaughn.' She gave up trying to pull away. ‘Do you really think I would sit around and wait for you? Is that how you see me? The kind of woman to wring her hands and wait?'

Anger rippled across Vaughn's face. ‘You bore my child. It is right you wait until my tenure with the King is over.'

‘Over?' Her voice rose and she glanced around, relieved to see everyone had cleared the room. She knew there would be fresh gossip among the women about her relationship with Vaughn, but she didn't care. ‘I don't know if you've been paying attention, but Enforcers don't traditionally get to retire. They either die at their posts, or are killed by a challenger.'

‘You think Jericho would be a better mate? That he would care for our daughter?' His breath was hot on her face.

‘I'm not seeing Jericho,' she snapped back. But something in her face must have given her away and Vaughn dropped her arm with a disgusted look.

‘When did it start?' he asked quietly.

‘You've got it all wrong, Vaughn.'

He shook his head. ‘No. I know you, Karla. I know you. Until this year, his spotless record at the Dog House made him quite the topic among the full-bloods. Quite the comeback for a fallen alpha, to be seen as the saviour of the fallen. You probably thought he'd look very handsome at your side when you leave here.'

Karla went still, shocked at how close his words hit home. Was she that transparent? It worried her, because if Vaughn had seen her designs so easily, then Jericho would have as well. Was that why he rejected her? She knew he was a man of principles, even to the point of his own disadvantage. She silently cursed. A different approach was obviously needed. Perhaps she would try something other than the sex kitten approach. Something more honest and open.

‘Jericho would never accept you, Karla,' Vaughn said softly, echoing her own worries. ‘And he is not worthy of you.'

Karla's breath caught at the emotion she heard in his voice and the longing gaze in his eyes when he looked at her. She forced a smile to her lips and went to reply, but the Enforcer had already begun to walk off.

‘Vaughn,' she called, before she could stop herself. But he didn't turn back and strode away, leaving her alone in the empty room.

* * *

As tyres crunched over gravel and headlights washed over them in a yellow glare, Lydia kept the shotgun aimed at the intruders before her. She was struck with a sudden memory, of the nights tucked in her bed, listening as her mother told her stories of monsters that ate small children who dared to wander too far from home. The bloodthirsty stories had captured her attention when she was young, and as she'd grown into a woman, they'd helped her to look for the beasts in others. So she was well versed with the idea of those who thought they could kill whoever they pleased, deep in the woods and away from the eyes of civilisation. After all, she'd seen the result of that with poor, defenceless Anna.

In the light from the car, she saw the trespassers wore hunting gear that looked well worn and balaclavas that didn't fit right. One of them swayed on his feet and she caught a whiff of sickly sweet bourbon. She kept her eyes fixed on the man in front of her and noticed how he held his weapon a little awkwardly. She'd stared into the eyes of killers before and knew this man wasn't going to hurt her. In fact, they were a pair of eyes that looked very familiar.

The men in balaclavas cursed, backing up, spooked. Lydia nearly cried with relief. The headlights dazzled her, but she kept her gun aimed at the front man, who'd now taken two steps back from her porch. Whoever was in the car had her gratitude. Right after she blew a hole in these assholes.

‘Take off your mask,' Lydia barked at the hunter. ‘Right now.'

One of the men began to stumble away, only to stop, fall to his knees and begin to vomit noisily. The second man helped him to his feet and they both fled for the forest.

The leader heard this, hesitated, and then his nerve broke and he stumbled off too. Lydia kept her weapon trained at the shadows where they'd disappeared. She debated taking chase, but decided blundering around the forest after half a bottle of wine with a shotgun in hand wouldn't be her best idea.

‘Are you alright?'

The voice came from behind the headlights. It was cultured, clipped and very British. Lydia put up the shotgun, feeling her hands shake. She raised a hand to shield her eyes against the headlights. ‘Mister, I don't know who you are, but I owe you.'

The headlights blinked out and as her vision adjusted to the dark, she saw a man walk around the car to her. As he came into the porch light, she saw he was probably in his late fifties, with an average build and wearing a neat jacket over jeans, his hair salt and peppered just right.

‘You need me to call the police?' the man asked.

She lowered the shotgun. ‘I am the police.'

‘Of course.' The man glanced in the direction the men had disappeared. ‘Was that a practical joke of some sort?'

‘I guess.' Her eyes narrowed on him. ‘What can I help you with?'

‘Allow me to introduce myself.' The man approached her and she noticed he kept his hands in view. He had a way about him that made her think he was ex-law enforcement. ‘My name is Thomas Coulter. I've just come into town on business and I heard that Jade Gault's daughter was back.'

‘You were a friend of my mother?' Her eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘How did you know her?'

‘Could I come inside and explain?' He held his hands up. ‘I'm not armed. Promise.'

‘I suppose.' She gave him a tight smile before her eyes flittered to the forest, knowing the hunters were far gone. Not that it mattered, because she'd recognised the eyes of the hunter on her porch and knew the reason he was carrying his rifle so awkwardly was because of a broken finger.

Novak
.

Chapter 16

Jericho's eyes were fixed on the man who'd driven up, matching him up with the surveillance photos. The mysterious Jack Smith. If he really was a Hunter, Jericho had to admit this didn't look good for Lydia. Doubt crept into his thoughts.

Reaper cleared his throat, said, ‘I'm going to follow the armed idiots. You said the cops thought it might have been a hunting accident. Maybe they're our killers.'

‘Right,' Jericho muttered, but instinct told him they weren't. Only one kind of Hunter used silver bullets.

He watched Lydia's expression, relieved to see it was clear she didn't know the newcomer. He heard the man identify himself as Thomas Coulter. The surname of Lydia's biological father. A coldness gripped him. Confirmation he was a Hunter. Worse still, visiting Lydia. Jericho doubted it was a social call. He heard Reaper shift beside him and shot the big man a glare.

‘You got something to say?'

Reaper cleared his throat again. ‘He's a Hunter, Bulldog.'

‘I heard the name.'

‘He'll be here to recruit her.'

‘We don't know that.'

‘Just pointing out your woman is on the edge of a slippery slope as it is.'

Jericho's eyes narrowed. ‘I thought you were going to track the drunks with guns.'

‘The crew won't like this.'

‘Get going, Reaper.'

Reaper heaved a sigh, then set off into the darkness at a loping run. Jericho turned back, shifting to get a better view of inside the living room. He debated knocking on the door on some lame pretence. He was passing by and heard a commotion. He shoved the thought aside as he shifted closer to the house. All he knew now was if a Hunter was here, it meant Lydia was in terrible danger.

* * *

Lydia clicked the kettle on and turned to see Coulter examining the old photos of her sitting on the fireplace mantel.

‘You said you knew my mother?' Her eyes flicked to where the shotgun sat beside the fridge, nice and handy. The kettle whistled and she poured hot water into two mugs with teabags. Sitting down at the kitchen table, she pushed one mug over to him. Coulter had a quiet air about him, a silence that you might be tempted to fill with mindless talk. But she was a cop and she could play the silent game better than most.