Sadie Hart (18 page)

A laugh bubbled out of him at the thought,
and he turned his car into an abandoned driveway about a quarter
mile from Holly’s house. He’d passed it the last time he’d come,
and it beat the field he normally used. He waited for a few
minutes, fingers tapping the wheel, but when no Hounds came
swarming out of the woods, he relaxed. So they weren’t watching
this place, at least.

Dean slid out and paused, half tempted to
tell Bosley to wait, before he remembered the pretty little collie
the Hound kept up at her house. He’d take the dog after he killed
her master. After all, every dog needed a home. She was a well
behaved, pretty little thing. Loyal, too. He’d watched her snarling
the night he’d howled for her master, so determined to keep her
territory and people safe.

“Come on, boy. Might as well go meet your new
girlfriend.” The golden clambered out over the seat and bounded
around him in happy circles, tail wagging so hard it slapped one
side of his stomach and the other. “Quiet down,” Dean chided, and
instantly the dog mellowed.

It didn’t take them long to hike the short
distance between his car and Holly’s house, even with him checking
for Hounds every few feet. Nothing. Stupid of her. It made this all
too easy for him. Dean strode across her back yard, a grin
plastered all over his face. In two strides he was up the stairs
and on the back deck, Bosley sniffing the wood as he followed.

A dog barked inside, followed by a woman’s
ordered, “Star, quiet.”

Dean cocked his head and waited. Two sets of
footsteps moved in the house, one canine and one slower, light.
Human. Female. A shadow moved beyond the curtain, slippered feet
pat-patting towards the door, and he stepped aside, moving out of
sight as he signaled for Bosley to heel. The golden jerked to
attention and trotted silently over to snap his body around,
perfectly aligned with Dean’s left leg.

Just proved obedience school really did pay
off. He had to swallow back a chuckle there. The collie inside
barked again, nails clicking over tile, and Dean shook his head.
The dog needed her nails clipped. Nails shouldn’t click. They
should move silently, nothing more than the pads of their feet
touching the ground. He pressed his hand against Bosley’s head in a
silent order to stay. The dog stilled at his side.

“Want out? Is that what it is?” The lock
clicked and the door slid open. A gray haired woman stepped out
onto the deck, a second behind the dog, but Dean was already
moving.

He shoved the woman back inside, slamming the
glass door behind him so that the collie could do nothing more than
scrape at glass while she barked her fool head off. The woman
thrashed, but Dean shoved her back against the wall, easily
catching both of her hands in his. She trembled, and he saw the
delicious spike of fear in her eyes. Like a drug, he craved more,
wanted to hear her whimper, get that first “Please don’t kill me”
out of the way. His hand clamped down tighter over her wrists, hard
enough that pain flickered in her eyes. Blue, with a gray tinge to
them.

With his other hand he dug out the pocket
knife from his jeans and flicked it open. The woman stiffened at
the sight. “You’re him, aren’t you?” Her voice shook, and he heard
her swallow. Oh, how he loved that kind of fear. White hot, it
could burn a woman up until she couldn’t speak at all. But not yet.
“You’re the Hunter.”

He grinned at the moniker. “Didn’t have to
hunt you.”

Raising the blade towards her face, he
watched her flinch, her gaze never leaving the knife as she tried
to move her head away. He touched steel to her skin. “Even if I let
you go, you couldn’t run far.”

“Why don’t we try it?”

The spunk in that question made him laugh.
That was rich. An old woman thinking she could do what girls in
their prime had tried. Dean shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Pulling her away from the wall, he kicked out
one of the chairs by the table and shoved her into it. With the
blade against her neck, he ordered her to put her hands behind her
back. A good hunter was always prepared, and he pulled the strip of
fishing line out of his pocket, wound it around her hands until it
was so snug it bit into her flesh, leaving a line of red.

“That should hold you long enough for me to
find some actual rope.” And deal with the dog.

The collie was still scrabbling frantically
at the glass, nails leaving claw marks. Bosley had flopped down on
the porch behind her, golden eyebrows lifted almost mockingly as
she tried to dig her way in. Dean glanced around the kitchen,
spotted the coat racked nailed to the wall on the other side of the
sliding glass door. Several leashes dangled from it, along with one
of those new-fangled harnesses.

With a shake of his head he snatched a pair
of leashes off the hook, unclipping one from the harness. Using one
to strap the older woman to the chair, tying her wrists and arms
snugly into place, he used the blade to snap the wire cleanly away
from her skin. “Don’t want you cutting open your wrists and dying
before our Hound gets home.”

He touched the knife to her cheek again, just
under her left eye. “You must be her grandmother. Am I right?”

She didn’t answer, but Dean really didn’t
care. Instead he whistled softly and stepped towards the door.

“Don’t,” the woman said, voice soft. “Yes,
I’m her grandmother.”

The words came fast, almost
panicked-sounding, and he stopped to tilt his head. Taking in the
woman, dressed in yoga pants and an old t-shirt. Slippers on her
feet. She fit the cheerful blue kitchen that surrounded her, all
the way down to the bowl of fruit sitting on the counter and the
apple cinnamon fragrance that puffed out of an air freshener.

Dean leaned towards her slightly, letting her
see the cool edge to his smile. How much he was enjoying this.
“Don’t what?”

“What do you want?”

“No.” He shook his head and waited. “I asked
you first.”

“She’s just a dog.” The fear in her voice
didn’t surprise him. If anything it excited him more than her words
did. He laughed at that.

“I like dogs.” He noosed the leash and opened
the door. The collie lunged in, fangs bared, and he slipped it on
her and stepped out of the way, drawing her up short. Moving one
hand fast down the leash, he pinned his fingers against the slip
knot, drawing a sharp, strangled gasp from the dog.

She thrashed, but he held her easily.
Waiting. “This,” he told the grandmother, “is never fun. But
sometimes you just have to show an animal you’re bigger than them.
Tougher.”

Locking his legs on either side of her furry
body he waited while the collie’s breaths came shorter, faster. She
thrashed one last time, nails skidding over the tile, and then the
lack of oxygen made her go limp. He gave her shoulder a gentle pat
and loosened up on the leash. “See? Lesson learned. She’s
submissive now.”

The old woman turned away, a tear streaking
down her cheek, and Dean couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s fine.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Ah-ah.” He waggled his finger at Holly’s
grandmother, a soft smirk on his face. “No more a monster than you.
After all, your granddaughter had to get her animal side from
someone.”

His nostrils widened as he inhaled.

“Smells like she got it from you.”

He stroked a hand through the collie’s hair,
drawing a soft growl from the dog, and he tightened the leash. She
stiffened, then relaxed. “Good girl,” he crooned softly before
leading her over to Holly’s grandmother. “I’m going to snap her
leash onto yours; that way neither of you gets lonely.”

Once the collie was secured he let Bosley
inside and dug his notebook out of his jacket. He knew exactly what
he wanted to tell her, so the words came nice and easy. Ripping it
cleanly off the pad he thumped it down in the center of the table
and turned to stare at the frightened old woman, then the collie
lying at her feet. Star’s ears flicked back against her head, a low
grumble leaking from her, but she kept her head low. Eyes averted.
She didn’t want to risk another tango.

“Good girl,” he reminded her, and the
grandmother shuddered.

Dean leaned over and patted the woman’s
cheek, ignoring the rise in the dog’s growl. “Tell Holly I said hi.
It was fun. We’ll have to do this again. But first,” he withdrew a
long piece of fabric from his jeans pocket and grinned up at her.
Using one hand to force her mouth open, he forced the gag into her
mouth, then tied it neatly behind her head. He winked. “Just to
keep you quiet.”

With a merry laugh, he whistled for Bosley
and let himself out. He paused, wishing he could lock the door for
them. After all, there were a lot of crazy people in this world.
The last thing she needed was a killer walking in on her all
trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

A low laugh simmered in his gut and Dean let
it out, snickering all the way back to his car.

Chapter Fourteen

The
moment Caine turned onto Sanctuary Road the tension slammed back
into his shoulders, leaving him in knots. Guilt, frustration,
anger; they all swarmed in him. He should have been there to save
her. To save Claire. Instead, two of his wolves had died, and he
didn’t think for a second this asshole was through messing with
them.

No. The Hunter had made this personal. He’d
targeted Caine’s pack. He’d be back, and Caine would make sure he
was waiting for him next time. Turning up his sloping drive, he
spotted Trey on the front porch, long arms hung over his knees as
he sat waiting, feet braced on the steps. His wavy hair curled over
his face, hiding his eyes in shadows, but the hunch of his
shoulders signaled defeat. Sorrow.

There’d been news vans buzzing around the
murder site like flies all day, so it made sense his pack would
already know. Including Lydia’s family. His fist hit the steering
wheel. Fuck. They hadn’t deserved to hear it like that. They hadn’t
deserved this at all. Killing the engine, Caine slipped out and met
his second’s eyes. “You saw the news?”

Trey looked away. “Heard it, yeah. He got
another one, Caine. Two this time.”

Caine staggered to a stop, the world around
him tilting, spinning. Trees nothing but hazy blurs around, up,
greens, browns, blacks all blending together. “What?”

“Up the road, the Carson house. Danielle was
out in the yard playing with her four-year-old daughter.”

Elizabeth. Beautiful big blue eyes. A face
like an angel, a voice that reminded him of a winter howl. He’d
been there when that little girl was born.

“By the time we realized they were gone—”
Trey shook his head.

“Both of them?” His second barely tipped his
head in a nod. Caine’s heart couldn’t stop the constant slam in his
chest, the roil of guilt so thick it made him want to vomit. Or
scream. When he caught this son of a bitch that man would beg to
die. “Does Luke know?”

Trey leaned back, bracing his elbows against
the top step as he took a deep, shuddering breath. Eye closed he
nodded. “He was in the house. They’d been outside five minutes.
He’d been on his way out to join them with Janey.”

Their older daughter. “What about the other
two?”

“At a friend’s.” Trey grimaced.
“Thankfully.”

Caine shoved his hands through his hair,
fighting the urge to howl. To shift. Christ, how had he let this
happen? “I thought we had patrols!”

“We did. Raj caught sight of a black car
driving away; he was on the phone with me while running to get the
license plate when Luke howled. I didn’t even need to be there, I
knew that son of a bitch had gotten someone.” He shoved a hand
through his hair, eyes wide as he met his alpha’s. “I’m sorry, man.
The amount of time it took him to do everything was five minutes
tops, and that’s pushing it.”

He’d gotten lucky.

Caine reached over and caught Trey by the
shoulder, giving his second a reassuring squeeze. “You did what you
were supposed to do.”

“Yeah. Watch the damn pack. See how well that
worked out?”

Not that Caine was faring much better, but he
didn’t say it. They didn’t have time to sit around and lick their
wounds, mourn loved ones. According to Ollie, there was a chance
the Hunter was sticking to his timetable. A chance that they still
had a few days to catch this man. “Did Raj get that license
plate?”

“Only a partial.”

“Good enough for me. Call him up here.” Caine
headed down the drive, fast, heels kicking up dirt.

“Where you going?”

“To get a look at the Carson place. I want to
know if this bastard was there waiting, or if he just plain got
lucky.”

Mostly because Caine wasn’t sure he believed
in luck. Like coincidence, it just seemed too good to be true. No.
He was betting the Hunter had been camped somewhere along the road,
hiding like a wolf in the grass. Waiting. Hunting.

After all, it was what he did best.

***

Ollie groaned as she slid out of the car. “I
am starved. I hope Nana has dinner ready, because I’m about to eat
the car.”

Slamming the door shut, she leaned against
it, watching as her brother slid out of the driver’s seat. For a
man on vacation he was doing an awful lot of work. “Please tell me
this isn’t all pro bono.”

Brandt laughed. “Nah. Took some finagling,
but I’m getting paid for the work I’m doing here. Though at this
rate I’m not going to have a job left when I get back home. Rumor
has it my replacement is working out well.”

“They’ll welcome you back.”

“They’d better.” Shutting the door, he headed
up the lawn towards the front door, Ollie on his heels. The sun was
already beginning to set, autumn finally getting its grip on the
days, turning them shorter, the nights longer, colder.