Lycan Packs 1: Lycan Instinct (26 page)

“I’m sorry,” she said, leaning back. “You’ve trusted me.”

Her words shot an arrow of guilt straight to his heart.

“And I’ve done nothing but accuse you of murder at every turn. I can’t seem to find my balance. I need rules, a foundation, and this...” She waved a hand between them. “...broadsided me.”

She had enough to deal with; he wouldn’t burden her with his own battles. Despite feeling guilty for keeping her in the dark about that part of his life, he wouldn’t let Mackenzie push him out of her life. And he wouldn’t allow someone to use him to hurt her.

“Do you still suspect me?”

“You’re still on the list for the first two until I get the DNA results. That should be enough—”

“But do
you
consider me a suspect?”

“No,” she said softly.

“Thank you.” He kissed her, a brief press of the lips. “Now, I can help you.”

“Help me?”

“Yes. The sooner you solve the case, the sooner I can make my presence in your life known publicly.”

“I...”

He reveled in the suspicious look that knitted her brow, as if she doubted whether he’d stay once she closed the case. He had plenty of time to prove her wrong.

And maybe, if she shared more on the case, he could put his other concerns and suspicions to rest. “You said something about a lot of questions on Lycans. Why don’t we begin there?”

Her eyes narrowed a bit. “This isn’t an interrogation.”

He leaned back toward one corner of the couch and tugged her against him. “Of course not, my beautiful Detective. It’s after-dinner conversation.”

“Okay.” She jumped right in, not wasting a second. “Bite marks on the first two victims are consistent with a single animal. If that animal is a Lycan, how can I know for sure? Is there something in the DNA that’s different?”

“Our DNA matches that of humans when in human form and canine when in wolf form. Although there is a distinctive trait found in both forms, it’s highly unlikely your people will recognize it for what it is. The genetic marker’s also found in the healing byproduct.”

“Byproduct?”

“A powdery substance left behind whenever a Lycan changes to heal an injury.”

She turned her face toward him. “Our sweepers collected some powder as trace evidence at the warehouse.”

“There would be small amounts of it from my change. They’ll mistake it for some sort of organic luminescent material. The byproduct, like our change, has phosphorescent properties.”

She jumped up so quickly he grunted. “Sorry. Be right back.”

Straightening, he wondered what had caused the sudden reaction as he watched her disappear down the hall. After a moment, she came back carrying some papers.

“I knew it. I hit him.”

“What are you talking about? Hit who?”

“The gunman. I shot him.” She smiled. “The powder they collected was on the dock, not in the warehouse. If the powder has this phosphorescent property you spoke of, then our gunman is a Lycan. He must’ve come out and changed while I was inside checking on you. I wondered why we hadn’t found a body, but this makes perfect sense.”

She pointed to her notes, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to read the words. She’d confirmed his worst fears. A Lycan had targeted her.

“But that doesn’t prove a Lycan was responsible for the murders.” She continued to voice her thoughts, apparently unaware of how his muscles tensed as his own mind leaped ahead and put the pieces together. The realization at having his suspicions confirmed fueled a raging blaze inside him.

“That only proves a Lycan was at the warehouse. The attempt on my life could be connected to the other homicides or completely unrelated. The shooter knew to use the murders to get me there, but he could’ve known that from watching the news. Why would a Lycan come after me? Unless...”

Rafe held his breath as she turned toward him, struggled to keep his emotions in check, his face blank.

“You...You think he came after me because of you.”

“It’s a possibility,” he allowed, knowing it was more like a certainty.

“You said that before about the other murders. ‘It’s a possibility we’re looking into,’ you said. What did you mean by ‘we’?”

Suddenly on shaky ground, Rafe chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to outright lie to her, but neither did he want to risk her life further by drawing her into L.I. operations. The less she knew the better. “Gabe and Luc are helping me.”

“Other than the mauling, what makes you think a Lycan’s involved in the murders?”

“Isn’t the mauling enough? Come here.” He pulled her onto his lap, needing the physical evidence that she was all right, relying on her touch to calm him.

“Maybe, but only the first two were mauled. Harden’s death doesn’t fit the MO. And his murder coincides with the attack on me. Maybe I was way off on that. I’m not sure. And what’s the motive?” She leaned back against him, opening her file and allowing him to look over her shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around her, amazed that he could feel comforted while discussing such a morbid topic. “Are you certain all three are related?”

“I thought with Shumaker’s connection to Harden that the bookie’s death was because I got too close to his boss. The attack on me made sense then. But I’ve found nothing to tie Harden or his boss to Robertson, and none of it explains why a Lycan would commit all three murders.”

She flipped through her notes. He could almost see her mind working, feel the energy flowing as she went over the cases for what must be the millionth time. He hugged her closer when his gaze locked on a slip of paper in the file.

“Is there a way for me to know whether his boss is Lycan?”

When he didn’t answer immediately, she repeated her question and twisted around to look him in the eye. “Rafe?”

Another second passed before he could answer. “From looking at him? No.”

Obvious disappointment tugged her lips into a frown. “Okay. It was a thought. I’ll make one more trip out to pressure Harden’s boss, see if anything turns up. If not, I’ll have to hand it off to another detective.”

He pressed his lips to the side of her neck, breathed in the clean scent of her hair. How could she evoke such a mix of feelings? Admiration, protectiveness, annoyance, and desire. His hard-edged cop with the soft curves of a vulnerable woman.

“That leaves me with two deaths, and the only connection between them and the warehouse attack is you. So you want to explain why a Lycan is killing off people you know?”

“Robertson and I differed on certain upcoming legislation. We’d only met face-to-face a few times, none of which were amicable. That hardly makes him a lifelong friend.”

She tossed her file on the coffee table and moved to sit beside him, tucking one foot under her. “Don’t sidestep the question. If you aren’t the killer, which I think we can both safely assume you’re not—”

“Thanks.”

“—then someone may want it to look as if you are responsible.”

If she’d drawn that conclusion, she was too close to finding out who’d want to frame him. Too close to danger.

“You’re famous. Eccentric.”

“That’s hardly a crime.”

“And the only man I know with a pack of wolves at his disposal.” She got up and tugged him to his feet. “Come see this.”

She led him to the map hanging in her office. “What do you see?”

Curious, he concentrated on the map. “Pins marking crime scenes, apparently.”

“Yellow marks victims’ homes.”

“Widespread.”

She nodded. “Red is for the bodies. This pin here is where Robertson’s car was found. This one—”

“Is the warehouse where you were shot. Your point, Detective?”

“Where you were shot, too,” she reminded him. “Both locations, the car and the ambush, were within a couple of blocks of the property on the docks where you left your car that night.”

He let out a long breath. “That doesn’t prove anything. I own a lot of property.”

“Yes, but not in that part of town. And still, both sites are within a two-block radius. Added to that, the alley where we found Robertson’s body runs exactly two blocks west of a tenant building you own on the Southside.”

He studied the map. “The one under renovation. Construction company reported a few thefts. I had the area fenced in, and the guards now patrol there at night with a dog.”

“Yeah. It was on your list.” She pointed to the pin in a green area. “Geographically, Harden’s murder doesn’t fit. And Shumaker’s death wasn’t near your property, but then, he was an employee of yours. We don’t know where Robertson was killed, but we do know where the killer left him. That spot was chosen for a reason. Those two men were mauled for a reason. Why else, except to put you in our sights?”

He’d known she would find the right path. Her talent and tenacity made that a certainty. But Rafe hadn’t prepared for the emotions that would stir. He didn’t want her on the trail of a killer if that killer was the Lycan he believed him to be.

She paused, that little wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows. “Who’d you piss off?”

“Who says I did?” He pulled away, frustration building. “I need some coffee. You want some?”

She slapped a hand on his chest before he could turn to leave. “Damn it. Don’t shut me out now.”

God, she was beautiful when she was flustered. He took her hand, kissed it, and watched with amusement as she jerked it free in annoyance.

“You’re leaping to conclusions, Detective.”

She followed him into the kitchen and yanked his arm as he reached for a mug. “Don’t patronize me.”

“Don’t press me on this.” Her ability to process clues amazed him, and yet the very thing he found impressive brought her closer to danger. Her dogged resolve irritated him, even though he admired her for it. How could he keep her safe if she was determined to be involved?

Her gaze searched, probed, then changed to one of realization. “You know who he is, don’t you? You’ve suspected all along. You lying...” He accepted her accusatory scowl but stopped her hand mere inches from his face.

“I didn’t lie to you. I wasn’t sure. I’m still not. Not completely.”

“Yes, you are. All that talk of helping me solve the case is a smokescreen. You already know or suspect who’s doing this. And you want to keep me from finding out who he is. Why? How many does he have to kill before you stop covering for him?”

He jerked away. “You go too far, Mackenzie.”

“Apparently not. He’s out there killing people you know.” She poked him in the chest. “And you know his identity. You could help me put him behind bars.”

“He’s Lycan. If you caught him—and that’s a big ‘if’—what would you do? Handcuff him. Read him his rights. You’d be dead before you drove two blocks down the road, and the wolf would be gone.”

Her back went ramrod straight. “So we just let him go? Who’s next? Your brothers? Your housekeeper? Who does he have to kill before you’ll come forward and help me stop him?”

He grabbed her shoulders. “You can’t stop him, damn it.
You
can’t, but I can. I will.”

“It’s not your job—”

“Fuck the job. He killed my sister.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

Rafe collapsed in a chair and rested both elbows on the table, his head on his hands. Wearily, he warned, “Stay out of it, Mackenzie. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

She laid a hand on his shoulders. Her voice dropped to a soothing whisper. “Too late. I’m already in it. I can’t stay out.”

“Fuck.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her close.

Her fingers were light, comforting. She kneaded his shoulders, rubbed his back, and caressed his head. Her touch ignited a need in his body he was unable or unwilling to deny.

He didn’t want to contemplate the possibilities of losing her, failing her as he’d failed his sister. No, Mackenzie was here in his arms where she belonged—where he wanted her to remain, forever.

Lifting the hem of her shirt, he pressed a kiss above her navel. Her heat warmed him. Her scent, that wonderful mix of coconut milk and cream, made him want to nibble every inch of her.

He burrowed further, leaving a trail of kisses up her body, nudging the shirt higher until impatiently, he pulled it off.

Her hands clasped his head. To hold him away or keep him close, he didn’t know or care. He wanted her, needed her, and he’d have all of her.

Her bra, a flimsy strip of lace, was gone. His lips closed over her nipple as if his next breath, his life, depended on it. He sucked and laved each breast until a moan rumbled from her throat, the sexiest invitation he’d ever heard.

She stood between his legs, her flat stomach pressed to his chest. Not close enough. Never enough.

With a growl, he made short work of her pants and yanked his own open. Backing her against the wall, he nipped her lip and feasted on her mouth in a kiss engulfed with furious desire.

Her fingers bit into his back, one leg hooked around his thigh. Desperate for more, he was rougher than he meant to be. Finesse gave way to the ravenous need to mate.

“Hang on.” Cupping her hips, he lifted her and slid home with one powerful stroke. Her arms clung to him, legs wrapped about him. She was so tight, wet, and his.

His mate
. The word pounded through his brain even as he plunged harder. Unable to stop, his mouth closed on her left breast just above the coral nipple. This time, his teeth broke through. Not much, but enough. His mark left behind.

Feeling her crest, he hissed, “Yes,” and kissed her until breath was no more than a memory. Blood rocketed through him, and every muscle came alive as he pumped deep and deeper into her heat.

“Rafe...oh...” Her nails clawed and encouraged him.

A groan escaped as her body clutched him, tensed in another climactic release. He slammed a hand against the wall for balance he felt certain was forever beyond his grasp.

She’d tilted his world, and with one last wild cry, he gave her everything he had and was and would ever be.

An hour later, Mackenzie lay pleasantly exhausted on the bed’s rumpled covers, her face buried in a pillow.

“I think we could both use that coffee now,” Rafe breathed in her ear.