Feral Passion (5 page)

“Not really. I have to be in the station at
three,” she said, rolling her eyes and taking another bite.

“Shouldn’t you have gone in by now?”

Mary swallowed. “Yeah, I have already.
But now we have someone
else
who wants to question me. About Jared.”

Melony’s lips tightened. “That poor guy. I
hate how everyone is targeting him. Truthfully, I don’t believe he
has done a thing wrong besides mind his own business and save a
lady from getting killed.”

“Apparently something is up with that ‘lady”
though,” she said quietly, frustrated. She hated not knowing
things, and this “lady” was an anomaly that she didn’t need.

“What do you mean?” her friend asked,
confused. Her small hand lifted to brush the hair out of her face
and as she sat up straighter. Mary could see the faint rise of her
stomach.

“Just. . .not normal. Jared, when I went in
to talk to him, said that there was something “different” about
her. The way he said it. . .Melany, I could honestly feel my flesh
crawling afterwards. It was not pleasant, in the slightest.”

Melany stared at her, her hand moving to wrap
around her belly protectively. Mary regretted mentioning anything,
as she saw her friend start to pale.

“Hey, don’t worry about anything, okay? You
have a hot, strong male who would do anything for you. Don’t worry
about a thing, I’m pretty sure she is long gone by now
anyways.”

She gave Melany a forced smile, knowing that
it wasn’t working in the slightest but still trying.

“Yeah. . .” Her gaze dropped to her stomach,
where the precious baby was growing. Safe and warm, she prayed it
stayed that way.

Mary looked at her phone, noticing that it
was almost two. She took one last bite and stood up. “I better go,
the meeting will be soon and it takes a bit to get down there.” She
hugged her friend as she stood also, giving an uneasy smile.

“Call me when you’re done, I want to know how
everything goes, okay?”

Mary nodded. “Got it, chickie.”

With her car started and the heat warming her
up, she went to the station downtown. Why would they need men
outside the door, when they all knew perfectly well that she could
take care of herself? It’s not like the man could over-take
her.

She was, after all, the
pacchetto
. Mary had perks with being
so high in power, and also an automatic penalty to anyone who tried
to harm her. She rolled down her window, wishing she could go home
and curl under some warm blankets.

When she pulled into the station, her brown
hair a mess, she was greeted with small smiles and waves. Mary only
did the polite thing and smiled back, aware that they didn’t mean
any of their actions.

Romero was waiting for her in his office.

Around them, you could hear police scanners,
shuffling papers, shouts and loud talking, murmured whispers from
across them, and the occasional slam of a cabinet.

“Want some coffee?” her brother’s long-time
friend asked, standing up.

She wrinkled her nose. “That stuff made out
of liquid cardboard?”

Romero shrugged and got out a cup. “Budgets
and prickly super-advisers. Don’t blame us for how crappy our
coffee is. At least we ain't using dirt from the plastic plant as
creamer.” He turned to glare at her.

Mary laughed. “Okay, that was one time and
you were freaking out, okay? I grabbed the first thing I could
find, and that just happened to be it.”

“Yeah, whatever. We all know you did it out
of spite.” A couple years back, right when she had been getting out
of college, Kevin had assigned her as an intern at the station for
a month. One of the cases that she had witnessed had left her
shaky, and it hadn’t helped in the least that Romero had finally
snapped.

She could remember purposely baiting him,
always teasing and flirting as only a sister of his best friend
could. He had asked for coffee, and she had been less than willing
to get it. Mary had a natural curiosity streak, and it hadn’t gone
well for anyone when she had found her way up to the evidence
room.

Her foot had barely touched the cold sterile
floor of the dark room before Romero had come pounding up the
stairs, and dragging her back, forcing her to make coffee in a sort
of immature punishment.

When she had realized that there wasn’t any
creamer left and Romero was close to barging into the meeting room
furiously, she had grabbed a junk full of the closest things near
her. Unfortunately, in her panic to make the cardboard coffee taste
better, he had chosen the perfect moment to snatch it from her and
stalk out, shoulders tense and eyes full of rage.

Mary had just started going to him to let him
know that it wouldn’t be the brightest thing in the world to let
him drink it when he had stopped suddenly.

In his cup had been fake dirt, leaves, and a
couple other of unmentionable things that interns liked to shove in
the plant.

“That was
one
time
!” she defended herself.

“How many times a day do I hear you say
that?” he asked, rolling his eyes at her.

She stayed silent.

“That’s what I thought.” They took a seat in
his office after getting two cups of coffee. “You’re a bit early,
and the guy isn’t here yet, so you might as well hang out and stay
out of trouble for a bit.”

His eyes were on her suspiciously. “Wow,
okay. You can stop looking at me like that you know,” she said in
annoyance, crossing her legs and leaning back into the chair.

“You test the patience of a saint,” he
growled, dark eyes glaring at her in return.

“Oh, quiet. We all know that you are anything
but a saint. I heard about you and Ulrich, you know. You guys were
hardly what I would call priest hood material with that blonde the
other weekend.”

His dark cheeks flushed and he stood up,
chair pushing back against the desk. “You’re such a brat,” he said,
letting out a hard breath. “I’m going to get the report that I
printed out before I strangle you. Sit.”

Romero pointed his finger at her before
walking out of the room—actually, more like stomping.

Mary held in a snicker. Romero had never been
one for patience when it came to her. Which was a good thing, she
considered. She took a sip of the disgusting coffee, mouth
twisting.

She listened to the busy sound of the
station, a faint smile on her lips. This was what you got with
order, she thought. Responsibility, choices, decisions. One things,
one mile-stone in a person's life could affect everything that
followed.

Mary thought back to when she had
learned that she was a Chosen. Of course, Kevin had come to her in
a dream. Had told her things, gave her things, let her
see
things, that had made her acutely
aware of the world around her. She had only been in high school, a
freshman with a decent life.

But that night, everything had changed. For
the better, she doubted. For the worse. . . She had no clue.

She hadn’t told her parents, or even her
brother. Her closest friend then had been a human and would have
thought of her as crazy if she had said anything about it.

One of the men from the cubicle over popped
his head in, pointing to the hall around the corner where the
interrogation room was. “Mary, he’s here.”

She let out a sigh and stood, fixing
her shirt and running a hand through her hair. “Alrighty,” she
said. He backed out to let her through and as she headed down the
hall, she thought that this was much like when they had
thought
she
was the
murderer.

Chapter 8

As Raffaele sat in the chair of the
interrogation room, he was acutely aware of the eyes that were
staring at him through the one-sided window. Watching, guarding,
protecting.

That’s what he got from them, he realized as
the door opened slowly.

The walls were a stainless steel, floor
tiled, and a security camera was set up in the corner. A table sat
in front of him, along with another chair on the other side.

“Really, Romero? Can you calm down and leave
me alone?” a feminine voice asked from the open door, the figure
hidden behind it.

“Your brother would skin me alive, girl.”

“Like that’s anything new? Gah, just go sit
in your chair and be the creep we all know you are.” The body
behind the musical voice stepped into the room, and Raffaele held
his breath.

The door closed with a slam.

He sat still, praying that his eyes weren’t
lying to him and what he was seeing was true.

The lady must have realized his staring
because she turned around slowly, the look of irritation draining
out her face as his blue eyes met her green ones.

Silence. Deafening, instantly heated
silence.

Raffaele stood up respectfully, clearing his
throat. Not often was he stuck for words, but staring into her
eyes, realizing that this girl had been the one on his mind for
hours, and the sudden hotness of the room was what was probably the
problem.

Her dark hair hung down freely, the waves
catching the dim light of the room. Her over coat was wrapped tight
around her and as she walked into the room farther with a forced
sureness, her slim hands came to the lapels of the coat, wrapping
it tighter about her.

“Hi, my name is Raffaele Jaques.” He
almost winced at how cracked his voice sounded. “Leader of the
South
pacchetto
, and also
nephew to Jared, a suspect of yours.”

He held out his hand for her, and his
heart almost stopped in his chest when the softness of her palm
touched his. “Mary Waters. Pleased to meet you,” she flashed a
charming smile, seeming to overcome her awkwardness from before.
“And I wouldn’t really say that he is a suspect of
mine
.”

Raff nodded, staring at her lips. That smile.
. . It had made him feel as if everything were right in the world.
He sat down, feeling like his feet had been knocked out from under
him.

“That’s good then. I actually wanted to meet
with you to discuss Jared and all of the attacks that have been
happening.”

She gave a forced smile, also sitting down.
How did she not feel so hot? He shrugged out of his jacket, wishing
he could just strip.

He blinked. “What did you say your name was
again?”

“Mary. . . Mary Waters.”

The name brought back images of his
dream, the one with Kevin and Stuart, the fight, the blurred words.
Was this the Mary that they had been talking about? Although there
were probably millions of Mary's in the world, he had asked for
the
pacchetto
of the leader in
the Midwest—and her name just so happened to be the one of his
dream.

Raff didn’t know whether to be on guard or
not, but what he did know was that he had to push his attraction
for her away—at least for the time being.

“Okay, so about your uncle,” she said, her
voice turning professional. He wondered if she would be so proper
and if she knew that he was thinking about kissing the hell out of
her lips.

He focused on her eyes. . .her beautiful,
deep green eyes. . . Someone should castrate him, he thought. Maybe
then he could focus on the problem instead of the woman.

“I believe you might be here to take him with
you?” she asked, hitting right on the dot.

“It would be in everyones’ best
interest.”

She bit her lip, and once again his
eyes strayed to the pearly whites clenching on the succulent flesh.
He groaned mentally.
I’m so
horrible
. . .

“I know for a fact that that man would not
harm a fly. He risked his life for a stranger, Mr. Jaques. Wait
until this is over, let him prove his innocence. If you take him
from here it will only detract from his credibility.” Short,
concise, and. . .true.

He shook his head. “I can’t lose the
rest of my family, Ms. Waters. He is my responsibility, and I can’t
leave my
pacchetto
alone if I
stay here for this case.”

“Of course you can. Surely you have
a
beta
for you?” She raised a
thin eye brow in question.

He didn’t want to admit a weakness by
saying that he didn’t necessarily trust his
beta
anymore, so he shrugged. “I do what I have
to do. Bringing my uncle back is one of those, Miss.”

The lady sighed.

“You would do the same for your family if
they were in danger,” he said quietly.

She pressed her lips. “Not if it were against
their will.”

“Baby, we both know that ain’t true.”

Her cheeks flushed; he could see the
agitation in her eyes.

“I’m not here to talk about my uncle’s
free will right now, I’m here to ask you about the accidents and
the fact that Jared
is
in the
hospital.”

Raff swore he could feel the burning eyes
coming from the window. Maybe they had noticed how much. . .lust he
was starting to feel for her, maybe not. Whatever it was, he could
tell that they didn’t like how the conversation was going—or the
fact that he had called her “baby”.

“Where do you want to start?” she asked, her
voice bored. Mary leaned back into the chair, arms crossed over her
chest in what he assumed was a defensive manner.

“First attack. When was it?” He had a good
memory, but he got out his notepad anyways. It was better to have
exact detail than a blurred image.

“About. . .” Her lips pursed, and he moved in
his seat, uncomfortable. “Four months ago?”