Lure of the Blood (18 page)

“I know it sucks, boss, but it’s for the best
to let her go.”

They were five minutes away from their
destination now and the tension in the cab had reached unbearable levels.
Marnie had resolutely stared out of the window during the long drive back to
town, the occasional swipe of her hand to wipe away a silent tear the only
movement.

His guts felt as though he’d been eaten alive,
seeing her in such turmoil, but every time he reached across she just shook her
head and shrunk away. “Please, Ion, no. Don’t make this more difficult for me.”

So he had forced himself to let her be,
concentrating on driving instead, his mood getting darker with every mile that
passed until he finally stopped the truck outside the police station.

“Marnie, you don’t have to do this, please.” He
couldn’t look at her, as he ground out those words, his voice a strangled
cough, but he sensed her approach. The butterfly kiss against his jaw had him
tightening his strangle hold on the steering wheel to stop himself from
crushing her to him. If he touched her now he wasn’t sure he could resist
claiming her, daylight, witnesses and consequences be damned.

“Just go, little one.”

****

Marnie wrapped her arms around her middle,
fighting back tears, the incessant chatter of the duty solicitor assigned to
her case not registering. All hell had broken loose when she stepped into the
police station. She had been handcuffed and marched to an interrogation room
before she could even blink. The portly, middle-aged detective in charge of the
murder investigation had taken great delight in reading her rights, and
Marnie’s eyes had widened when he’d leaned in close enough for his spittle to
land in her face as he talked.

“Finally, we’re getting somewhere. I have no
idea how you did it, young lady, but your DNA is the first tangible proof I
have in this god forsaken case, and I will get to the bottom of this. Mark my
words: you and your accomplices will not get away with this again. This time I
will find out who is behind these attacks, if it kills me!”

She straightened her shoulders, feigning a
nonchalance she was far from feeling. “I have no idea what you’re talking
about, Detective Spencer, and I know my rights. I will not say anything until
my solicitor is here. Intimidation will get you nowhere.”

“Folks like you always know their rights. I’ve
got your file, missy. What interesting reading that made. Back to your old
tricks, then? Tell me, which gang is behind it this time?”

Marnie’s heart fell to her stomach as the old
guilt assaulted her. Of course he would have looked her up. Her youthful
misdemeanours would have been recorded. All it would have taken would have been
a phone call to her hometown or a scan of the computer files. She’d been
cleared of all suspicion in her mother’s accident, but mud stuck and this
little weasel of a policeman seemed determined to pin this case on her, along
with several others. There had been more mysterious animal attacks in his
precinct and naturally they had to be linked to her. Disgust rose in Marnie’s
throat at the shabby police work, whilst the human side of her felt something
akin to sympathy for the red-faced detective. He had no idea what forces he was
dealing with and she’d be damned if he found anything out through her.

She would take Ion’s secret to the grave with
her, even if it meant they locked her up and threw away the key.

The strip search that followed, done by a
uniformed female police officer, had been humiliating and embarrassing. The
other woman’s wide-eyed perusal of the myriad of fingerprints and scratches on
her body had Marnie suppressing more tears. Soon the physical reminder of Ion’s
possession would fade and she would be left with nothing but memories to keep
her warm at night. He had been so closed off in the cab, when she had tried to
say goodbye. His whole stance had screamed
Get off
at her and she
couldn’t blame him. If her heart was in a million pieces, then how must he
feel? Her proud alpha had all but begged her repeatedly to stay with him last
night and she had to turn him down every time, her heart splintering a little
more with every whispered denial and every passion-filled kiss. She knew how
much it cost him to keep his distance this morning and how much she’d hurt him
by refusing to let him comfort her. But she couldn’t let him touch her again.
She would not have been able to go through with this, if he had. And seeing
detective Spencer’s determination to solve this case, she knew she had been
right. This was the only way. She could only hope and pray that he would
forgive her in time and find happiness with someone else.

“Are you listening to me, Marnie?”

The duty solicitor’s voice shook her out of her
musings.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

The young man, clearly just out of law school,
pushed his glasses up his nose and pinned her with an exasperated look.

“Now look, Miss Benson, you’re a law student
yourself, so you know how this works. So far there is nothing but
circumstantial evidence linking you to this case. It would help of course if
you at least told me the truth. This amnesia claim is all well and good, but
you failed the lie detector test and…”

He stopped at the hysterical laugh she couldn’t
help but utter.

“No offence to you, Mr Shelby, but you couldn’t
handle the truth. Besides I have told you all that I remember. I was walking
home, when I was attacked by the victim. I must have scratched him, whilst I
was defending myself. I hit my head and that is all I remember until I woke up
in my bed the next morning, covered in bruises.”

It was a story she stuck to during the hours of
interviews that followed.

The good cop/bad cop routine Detective Spencer
and his female sidekick adopted had her smiling despite the gravity of the
situation. She had watched enough cop dramas on the telly to know how this
worked and she wasn’t falling for it. Spencer’s agitation grew with every
denial from Marnie’s lips. No, she didn’t have any accomplices and no she was
not prepared to divulge where she had been in the week following the attack.

By the end of that very long day, she had been
formally charged with murder as well as suspected involvement in several other
animal attacks in the neighbourhood. She had collapsed on the sparse cot in her
holding cell, the minute the heavy metal door had clanged shut behind her.

Heavy-eyed after a sleepless night, Marnie was
pushing her breakfast around her plate, when the commotion outside her door had
her look up in confusion.

“Open this door right now. I wish to speak to
my client.”

The deep Eton-polished tones had a steely
authority and most definitely did not belong to the young duty solicitor who
had flustered himself through all the interviews yesterday. A familiar scent
assaulted her, the minute the door swung open, Masked by expensive male cologne
she nonetheless recognised the unmistakable earthy scent of the shifter.

The man ducking to enter her cell, had to be at
least six foot five of honed muscle, clad in Italian designer business suit.
Long black hair framed a proud patrician face and eyes as black as coal raked
her body over once, before he inhaled slightly, his eyes narrowing. He
addressed the flustered-looking guard.

“You may leave us now. I expect to see
Detective Spencer within the hour. Raise him from his bed, for all I care. I
have new evidence, absolving my client from these ridiculous charges and I
expect to see her release papers forthwith. Chop, chop, man time is money.”

Marnie sat back down with a thump, as the full
force of those penetrating eyes connected with hers, the minute the door shut
again.

“I…I don’t understand, who are you? I have a
solicitor.”

The deep growl rumbling from the stranger’s
chest raised the fine hair on Marnie’s neck. Wolf then, had Ion sent him?

“By all means stay with that solicitor if you
want to rot in here for the next twenty years, little human. After the trouble
you caused it would be quite appropriate, but it seems you have friends in high
places. So stop wasting my time any further, keep your mouth shut and I’ll have
you out of here in no time.”

Marnie’s stomach flipped and an icy shiver went
up her spine at the steely disdain in those black eyes. He flicked a mysterious
speck of dust of his suit, waiting for her response, one foot tapping
impatiently on the concrete floor.

“Well? What’s it to be, human?”

Chapter Eighteen

Marnie followed the broad shoulders of her new
solicitor, aware of the whispers and stares as they wound their way to one of
the interrogation rooms. She couldn’t help the feeling that she was about to
jump from the frying pan into the fire. There was something truly menacing
about all the coiled strength in front of her. He was no friend to humans and
he seemed to genuinely dislike her. Her whispered question as to whether Ion
sent him had been met with a humourless laugh.

“He couldn’t afford me and besides he is in
enough trouble of his own to have the time or energy to worry over the likes of
you.”

Her heart had constricted at those words and
that shiver of foreboding had taken on tsunami proportions. The temperature in
the room seemed to drop by ten degrees and she rubbed her arms in a futile
effort to chase away the goose bumps of silent dread.

“What do you mean he’s in trouble? He hasn’t
done anything wrong. This has all been my fault and…”

“Spare me the sentiments, human.” The clipped,
polished tones held an unmistakable air of disdain and boredom.

“You and Channing will answer for what you did
soon enough. Right now, we need to get you out of here, before my suit is
completely ruined. Lord only knows when this place was last cleaned and you,”
he wrinkled his nose in disgust, “You need a bath. I can smell that wolf all
over you. It’s enough to make me want to bring up my breakfast.”

“Then stop sniffing me, shifter!”

His eyes had widened briefly in surprise at her
angry reply, before he smiled, showing his fangs.

“Careful, human, my wolf likes to play with his
food.”

Marnie suppressed a renewed shudder as they
entered the room she’d spent so many hours in the day before.  Detective
Spencer was pacing the floor, muttering to himself and the young duty solicitor
all but jumped in the air when the shifter’s large hand on her shoulder
unceremoniously forced her to sit in the chair next to the wide-eyed young man.

“Move! You’re in my seat. Your services are no
longer required.”

The speed with which her now ex–solicitor
backed away would have done any shifter proud and Marnie smiled at the nervous
young man. He had tried his best, after all. “Thank you for your help, Mr.
Shelby, but I have acquired other representation.”

The sound of disgust coming from the wolf made
annoyance course through her. Did he have to be so rude?

“Yes, well…all the best, Miss Benson. Good
luck. Not that you’ll need it with that shark working for you,” and poor Mr.
Shelby scrambled out of the room as fast as he could.

Oh, if only he knew how right he’d been in his
assessment of the dark figure sitting next to her. Wrong predator––but just as
deadly. Marnie suppressed another shudder.

 The mirthless laugh rumbling from the wolf
stopped Detective Spencer’s pacing and he lowered his heavy gait into one of
the chairs opposite them. The police officer seemed to have aged several years
since she’d seen him yesterday, and Marnie felt another stab of sympathy for
the man.

“Have you got my client’s release papers? I
have already spoken to your superior and the judge, so this meeting ought to be
mere formality.”

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Mr Lovel?” A
shower of spittle rained across the table between them and Marnie’s sympathy
waned a little, whilst the towering man next to her simply leaned back in his
chair, holding a pristine handkerchief to his nose. The smell of body odour and
desperation coming off the detective was enough to make her gag. With Lovel’s
shifter senses it must be akin to torture sitting this close to the sweating
human, who now slammed a fist on the table.

“Damn it, this is still my investigation and I
know she is involved.  I can feel it in my gut, evidence be damned. The DNA
clearly places her at the scene and…”

“Detective, calm yourself, before you leave Mrs.
Spencer a widow. If your blood pressure rises any higher you will give yourself
a heart attack. That would just mean more paperwork for me and I have no wish
to spend more time in this hell hole than is absolutely necessary.”

Lovel waited until the detective sat back down
to reply with a muttered,” But how did…”

“Never mind that. The DNA is purely
circumstantial evidence. The only thing it proves is that my client was in
contact with the deceased at some point over the course of the evening. Bearing
in mind the nature of my client’s employ and the fact the deceased was a
regular at the club, it stands to reason that this could have been exchanged
during the earlier assault on Miss Benson, which resulted in the forceful
removal of the victim from the premises.”