Cloaked (3 page)

Daciana's head tilted forward, her cheeks smoldering red. Was shyness part of her act, or was it guilt from leaving the key outside the institute? I would read her statement later and perhaps interview her myself. If she wasn't involved, the question became: who saw her doing it?

Vasile beamed at her. “She has amazing animal knowledge and is our new animal behaviorist. And this morning, she picked up on a strange scent in the room where the cubs had been kept. We came down here to let you know.”

The chief said nothing but studied Daciana in the way he'd study a corpse at a crime scene, searching for any clues that might help with the case.

“Tell me anything else you remember about the smell, Daciana,” Anton said, his toothy smile all for the brunette. “I'm on this, Connell.” He cut me a side look. “You can go now.”

I didn't respond and focused on Daciana.

Her attention shifted from Anton to me, and a slight arch in one of her eyebrows told me she was smart enough to catch the tension between us. I caught the chief watching us, too, shaking his head.
Fuck
.

“Please continue.” I offered her a nod, ignoring Anton's stiff posture and his throat clearing. After I had caught him and Michaela, my now ex, I struggled to leave the house for weeks or believe it had really happened. Hell wouldn't come close to describing how working with this asshole, my supposed best mate, messed me up after what he'd done. And the irony was, no one else caught them. He'd switched off the cameras in the room, so he didn't lose his job after having sex in the workplace.

“Well,” she said, “I picked up a faint leathery smell in the room where the cubs were held overnight.” She ran a hand through her hair. Purple stained the tips of her fingers—someone had been playing with ink or perhaps berries. She dropped her hands below the counter. I adored the small gesture of her embarrassment, wondering how she'd gotten them so smudged. Yeah, she had a guilelessness about her, all right, and I trusted my instincts when it came to reading people.

“It had a chemical smell to it, too,” she continued, “like those leather tanning stores.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I didn't notice the scent yesterday, or ever at the institute, to be honest. Figured it might have something to do with whoever took the bear cubs.”

Tanning leather? I'd never smelled it at any of the scenes from the animal smuggling case I'd been working. I turned to Anton, my muscles tightening at the idea of cooperating with him.

“Did you pick up on the odor this morning?” My voice deepened unintentionally.

He ignored me and spoke directly to Daciana, scratching his chin. “Don't recall a leathery smell, but I'll gladly come back with you and do another sweep of the room.”

Daciana shook her head. “I'm not sure that's the best solution.”

Anton's shoulders snapped back. “That's—”

“There's a tannery store in Braşov worth checking out then,” I said.

“Fantastic idea,” the chief added. “Might be related to your animal smuggling case, Connell. You take the lead. And Vasile, if you don't mind, I'd suggest Daciana go with Connell to see if she picks up the same smell.”

“Sounds perfect.” I couldn't hold back my smile.

“With all due respect, Chief, I'm confident in seeing this case through on my own.” Anton's voice dripped with venom.

“Nonsense,” the chief said and turned away. “You'll work on it together. Connell will lead. Anything for my good friend Vasile.” The chief reverted to small talk with Vasile, giving his farewell before leaving the reception area and heading back into the station.

Anton spun in my direction. Standing slightly shorter than me, his face contorted with pure hatred. And to think, I once considered him a close friend.

Pull it together. Don't cause a scene at work.

I turned to Daciana, refusing to behave like a caveman in front of a lady. “Are you okay riding in my car to the tanning store? I'll give you a lift back to the institute afterward, if you'd like.”

She nodded. “Sure. I really want to find those cubs as soon as possible. It means a lot to me.”

“Not a problem.”

“Daciana and I will meet you in the parking lot,” Anton said to me, distaste coloring his voice. “It's my crime scene, and you're not taking this case.”

I faced him, hating the way he arched his eyebrow as if mocking me … No, challenging me. “Not required. I have your report.”

Anton ignored me, rounded the counter, and closed the distance to Daciana. “This way.”

“Connell.” The chief's loud tone sliced through my thoughts. “My office.”

Crossing the station floor around several new desks still wrapped in plastic, I entered his office. He reclined in his desk chair, hands gripping the armrests. “This is my final reminder to keep the personal shit between you and Anton out of the station.” The chief inhaled loudly, his brow creasing. “I don't care what happened between you two. This is work, not school. Rein it in, or you're both out on suspension.”

A protest scratched the back of my throat, but nothing I said would make a difference.

“I'll speak to Anton when he returns.” The chief focused his attention on several open folders sprawled out on his desk. “You can go now.”

“Won't happen again.” I marched out, ready to rip Anton's head off. It wasn't bad enough he'd broken up my marriage—now he threatened my job.

DACIANA

Anton leaned against the back door of a black Audi in the parking lot behind the station, staring at me lecherously, as if being a policeman gave him a license to leer. Sure, he was tolerable, if you considered being a cocky ass an attractive attribute. I didn't.

“So,” he said, his voice coated in honey, “do you often walk to work? I've recently taken up jogging.”

“Yeah, sometimes.” My belly churned as I remembered my horrible mistake. Why hadn't I found a better hiding place for the key? I could've looped it on a chain around my neck—maybe. Whatever. Now, because of me, the cubs were in danger.

Footfalls sounded behind me, and I turned to find Inspector Lonescu striding closer. The morning sun caught in his blond hair as it swept across his shoulders in the breeze, and a slight shadow of scruff darkened his square jaw. His eyes seemed miles away, lost, haunted by something. It made me wonder what kind of secrets an inspector kept that weighed so heavily on him. I could relate, since I could never tell a soul about being a moonwulf.

He slid on a fitted black jacket, which matched his tailored pants. His trousers hugged all the right parts. I looked up as he glanced my way with a smirk. He'd caught me staring.
Damn.

From the moment I'd spotted him across the station, my insides had been fluttering into a kind of hysteria I'd never felt for anyone. Not even Enre, my last boyfriend from the pack, had this effect on me. Enre was crazy-handsome with his dark hair and bad-boy style, but my body had never reacted this way before. Not once in the time we'd been together. I couldn't explain it, but being near Connell this way made something inside my chest ache—but a good kind of ache.

Connell unlocked the car with a click, and Anton opened the back door for me. “After you.”

Lowering my head, I climbed in, and Anton shut the door.
Wow
… The car was massive inside.

The two men outside were in a whispered discussion. Curiosity itched at me. I listened.

“I'm warning you, Anton. Don't push me.”

“This was my case from early this morning.”

“Bullshit. If this is related to my animal kidnapping case, then it falls under my jurisdiction.”

Anton huffed and rounded the back of the car. So obviously, these two weren't best buddies. But if they both intended to help track down the cubs, who was I to complain?

Anton climbed into the back seat beside me, and the car rocked slightly as he thumped the door shut. His woody cologne was cloying in my throat. I offered him a puzzled look, but he seemed to ignore me. Fiddling with the window, I rolled it down a crack for fresh air.

Connell got in and glanced over his shoulder at him. “Why are you sitting in the back?”

“Daciana,” Anton began, “tell me again anything else you sensed in the room this morning.”

Connell reversed and drove out of the parking lot, glaring at Anton in the rearview mirror. I shifted in my seat, unable to find a comfortable position, and spilled the story for the fifth time.

Vehicles crammed the two-lane road, slowing our pace. Traffic hummed around us. It was peak rush hour, most people heading to work at this time of the morning. White townhouses with slate-colored roofs were on both sides of the road. Trees lined the sidewalk. My stomach grumbled as we passed Tortured Torts Patisserie.
Sure could do with a flaky pastry tart or two right about now.
They reminded me of my mother's baking when I was a kid.

My alpha, Sandulf, had raised me as his own since I was eight. He'd persuaded me that living with my human mother would put her in danger and promised me a better life with others like me. Especially since our kind was born this way. So, I ran away to join his pack. No one knew who my real father was, and I suspected he was from a neighboring pack. Sometimes I wondered how different my life would have been if I'd remained with my real mother, living amongst humans.

“How did you get the purple fingers?” Connell asked, a faint British accent tracing his voice. Heck, if it wasn't sexy.

I stared down at the stains etched deep around my nails. Thank the moon I wore closed shoes. How would I explain the toes? “I was feeding the bear cubs blackberries and didn't realize how juicy they were.” I cringed at how silly my excuse sounded.

“Might have something back at my place to remove the stain without scrubbing,” Anton said. “We can get it on the way back if—”

“Soak your fingers in lemon juice. Then clean them with salt and water,” Connell announced as he swerved the car into another lane. I held on to the door.

“Having trouble driving?” Anton's voice overflowed with derision.

In a strange way, Connell's dislike of Anton was rubbing off on me. Though the guy did a cracker of a job at being a douche bag on his own.

When Connell chanced another glance in the rearview mirror, his chocolate eyes locked onto mine. His devilish wink might have been innocent, but his gaze pierced right through me.

“Repeat a couple times with the lemon,” he said. “And the stain should be gone.”

“Sounds easy. Thanks.” My voice wavered.

“Great idea, Martha Stewart.” Anton tugged on the seatbelt that pulled tight across his chest.

We picked up speed and flew through Braşov. The stunning Renaissance architecture slowly changed to concrete apartments with dozens of satellite dishes sticking out from balconies. What I missed most about living with the pack in the Carpathian Mountains was the fresh air, open space, and the silence. Even though the pack worked as park rangers in the Carpathian woods, they rarely visited the city. So, I still hadn't adjusted to the belching of car engines, pollution on my clothes, and so many voices. In my small apartment, the walls might as well have been made of paper since most nights my neighbors' conversations streamed into my room, word for word.

But the city was growing on me. Every morning, I woke up, got ready for the day, and stopped at the local coffee shop for my sugary coffee and pastry before rushing to work. It was easy to get lost in the pulsing energy of the city's morning rush hour, people everywhere. I couldn't help but get swept into the crowd and follow the pull and push.

Connell turned into a driveway and parked right outside a brick warehouse with a glass door and a sign that read: “Sam's Tans. Tanning Animal Pelts for Over Fifty Years.”

I climbed out, and a cool breeze wove through my hair, tugging at my collar. Probably should have grabbed a jacket from my office back at the institute.

Connell locked the car and turned to me. “There's no guarantee the owner will give us permission to search, but I'll ask. Look around, and let me know if you pick up the same smell from the institute.” He glanced at Anton. “You're with me.”

Without another word, Connell headed to the door and held it open for me. Before I took the first step inside, a wall of odors crashed into me—chemicals, animal hides, and fur … and more specifically, a faint stench of dead animals. I cupped a hand to my mouth from the overwhelming smell.

“You all right?” Anton asked. “It's pretty strong, but some people love the smell of new leather.”

Not me. Yeah, the pack often slaughtered animals for food and used their pelts for blankets and clothing, but nothing compared to the stink radiating from this place. I stepped inside as acidity in the air burned the back of my throat. How was I supposed to pick up anything distinct in the store with such an overpowering funk?

Inside, Connell and Anton strolled toward the reception desk where a burly guy, probably in his mid-fifties, stood behind the counter. A silver beard reached halfway down his chest, and his hair was pulled back into a ponytail. As the inspectors approached, his bushy eyebrows arched.

“How can I help you two gentlemen today?”

“Are you the owner of this store?” Connell asked.

“Yes, that's me. I'm Sam. Who's asking?”

Sam reminded me of one of those men who spent his weekends in the wilderness, hunting game, living off the land. I bet he rarely left home without a knife. I walked away.

Two rows of shelves ran the length of the store ahead of me. Animal hides were pinned to the walls, along with belts and vests. I wandered down an aisle, my hand stroking a soft fur pelt I recognized as a fox. The next one had once been a white rabbit. I agreed with the idea of making use of animal pelts, but an uncomfortable sensation about this store stirred inside me. This was for show and sport, not survival.