Sadie Hart (26 page)

Ollie knelt and smooched softly, hand
extended. The dog nosed over her knuckles, darting a wet kiss
against her hand, and then he looked back up, cautious as more
people entered the house. She sniffed, the waxy coat familiar. The
same dog the Hunter had brought into her home when he’d trussed up
her grandmother. Probably the same one that she’d smelled on the
bird.

“He’s aptly named,” another of the squad
said, and Ollie jerked her head around, spotting the dead animal
heads that were hung all the way down the hall. “Avid hunter.”

She moved through the house, her stomach
twisting when she found his room. The scent of stale sex still
lingering in the air, blood on his sheets, revolted her. It’d been
a few days since he’d raped Danielle, probably to give her time to
heal.

They’d been here this morning, the scent was
too strong for him to have left earlier. She headed for the
kitchen, her eyes going to the dog. His coat gleamed, obviously
well cared for. The dog was muscular, lean, but definitely well
fed. And as wary as he was about the people storming through his
house in full SWAT gear, he was already beginning to settle.
Confident.

A well socialized, well trained dog.

His water dish was filled, an empty steel
dish sitting on the counter, still smelling of the dog’s recent
breakfast. “He takes good care of you, doesn’t he?”

The golden cocked his head and padded closer,
ducking when she reached to touch him, but this time the canine
didn’t move away. She ran her hand through the silky hair and
caught the tags dangling from the dog’s collar. Bosley. Up to date
on his rabies, a Canine Good Citizen, and registered therapy dog.
Her heart slammed in her chest. God, the thought of this man going
into hospitals, pretending to be an upstanding citizen, and she
felt woozy.

There were guns all over the house, animal
heads littered the walls, and yet, she glanced up at the calendar
on the refrigerator and her insides went cold. A week ago, he’d
spent the day at nursing home. Bell Park, more than four hours
away. Her gaze darted to tonight, the full moon symbol highlighted
in yellow.

They’d had sketches out that far, but who’d
have even considered the possibility that a man walking in with a
therapy dog, dressed in nice clothes, would be the same person?
Especially with his nondescript face. The almost good ole boy
looks. That was, for anyone who hadn’t seen him in that shack, seen
the evil in his smile.

Bosley sat in front of her, the golden’s eyes
solemn as he stared up at her, tail swishing across the hardwood.
She cupped his head in her hands, rubbing the dog’s ears gently.
One thing was very clear about Dean Winters. The Hunter.

She hadn’t known him at all.

***

Dean watched from the shadows of the trees
behind Ollie’s house as the man headed out the front door, pausing
to lock the handle before he pulled it shut. The Sanctuary Falls
alpha still smelled like sex, though his shower had lessened it a
bit. With a wry grin, Dean stepped out from behind the trees and
gave a sharp whistle.

Caine Morgan drew up short, his head jerking
around, and Dean watched as he reached for his phone, his whole
body going stiff. Oh, no. No need to call in the Hounds yet. The
alpha didn’t react fast enough; his knee bent to drop him behind a
bush, but not before Dean had pulled out the gun, his finger
tightening over the trigger. The gun jumped in his hand, the recoil
familiar as the sharp pop filled the air.

The wolf grunted, staggering, and Dean fired
again, watching as another red spot bloomed on the wolf’s shoulder.
Unlike the bullet last night, these two were silver, and rumor had
it they hurt like a sonovabitch. Just to make certain the wolf
couldn’t run, he fired again. The man yelped as the bullet tore a
streak of red through his calf.

“Oh, that one had to hurt,” Dean called out,
watching as Caine’s eyes narrowed. The man started to rise, but his
leg gave out beneath him.

One-handed, he covered the wound on his arm,
head twisting around to look for the cell phone, but Dean didn’t
need that complication. He strode over and plucked it out of the
grass, shoving it into his back pocket. “Don’t worry. I’ll call our
little Hound later.”

The man’s jaw tightened. “They know who you
are.”

A cold jolt of fear stabbed down his spine,
but Dean kept his voice even, face disinterested. “I doubt
that.”

“Got a hit off your plate. They’re at your
house now.”

Bosley. His eyes narrowed to keep the fear
from showing on his face. The dog would let them in, be a bit
jumpy, probably, but there was no reason they’d hurt his dog. He
ground his teeth as he stared down at the alpha. “Well then, guess
you just proved even more valuable.”

He took a step back and waited for the silver
to work.

It didn’t take long, between the blood loss
and the silver rotting in his veins, Caine Morgan passed out. Sweat
beaded on the man’s forehead, and his breathing became ragged,
unsteady. Dean leaned down to check the pulse, still toying with
the unsavory bit of information the wolf had laid on him. If they
really knew who he was, they had a bargaining chip with Bosley. He
hated to leave the dog behind. He was a good dog, a loyal
companion. Liked to work, loved to hunt.

His throat tightened and Dean bared his teeth
into the wind. He should have taken the dog with him today. Bos had
wanted to go, but he hadn’t wanted the dog riding in the car if
things went sour with the alpha. Muttering a curse, he wrapped the
man’s wounds with gauze to stop the bleeding.

“Time to go,” Dean whispered, lugging the man
up in a fireman’s carry. He needed to get this one stabilized, keep
him alive.

Holly would still give him the hunt he
craved, but there was no reason the alpha had to die.

Chapter Twenty

Pain woke
Caine, a vicious throbbing in his shoulder, and he blinked into the
darkness. The familiar scent of wolves drifted through the air, and
Caine frowned. There was a hazy outline of a couch, a coffee table.
Heart pounding, Caine sniffed quietly. They were at his house. In
the middle of Sanctuary Falls. He was propped up against a wall,
and not only were his arms in agony, he could feel poisons quietly,
stealthily eating away inside him.

The back door swung shut, bringing with it
the scent of an autumn forest. Caine gave a sharp bark of laughter.
“I won’t run. You’ll just have to shoot me.”

The Hunter paused in the hall between the
kitchen and living room, a dark silhouette at the edge of the room.
He lounged against the wall, eerily calm. Too calm. The Hunter
leaned over and turned on the small lamp by his recliner.

“They know who you are,” Caine repeated, and
the man just smiled.

“But they don’t know where I am.”

The silver eating through his veins made
Caine dizzy as he swayed there on the floor. His arms were tied
behind his back, tight enough he couldn’t feel his hands anymore.
The Hunter strode across the room, his boots making quiet thuds on
the hardwood before he knelt. “Just going to make sure you don’t
mess anything up before I get a chance to finish what I need to
finish.”

He slipped a gag out of his back pocket and
Caine felt his heart pick up speed. He stiffened, a growl rumbling
out of him, and the Hunter just smiled. Mocking almost. “Don’t hurt
them,” Caine said. “You have me. I’ll run. I’ll give you the best
damn hunt you’ve ever had.”

Interest flared in the other man’s eyes, but
not enough to sway him, Caine realized. The Hunter shook his head.
“I’m sure you’d give a good run, but not the best. I’ve been
working too long to create the best.”

Ollie. Panic roared through him and Caine
jerked his head back to howl, to scream, something, but the gag
slid in his mouth and snuffed out the sound, strangling his urgent,
desperate efforts. Caine twisted to break loose, but the gag
tightened around his head, unyielding.

“Don’t worry,” the Hunter whispered. “I’ll
give her a chance to save you.”

With a quiet whistle the Hunter rose, dusted
off his pants, and headed out the front door. There wouldn’t be
anyone out in the pack tonight, no one to see the monster backing
down the driveway. No one to stop him before he killed again.

***

Ollie had just loaded the golden retriever
into one of the Hound squad cars when her phone rang. With a glance
at the caller ID she saw Caine’s name glaring up at her from the
screen. She waved to Brandt and made a gesture at the phone. “I’m
going to take this.”

Brandt nodded and she slipped behind the
squad car. Caine wouldn’t call unless he had something important.
“Everything okay?”

“Do you want to see your precious wolf
alive?”

It should have sounded cheesy, but dread
filled her when she heard that voice, the cold edge to it. A
killer’s voice, not Caine’s. She started to turn towards Brandt, to
signal for a phone trace when the Hunter tsked softly on the other
end of the line. “Don’t call for help.”

“Are you here?” Her voice trembled a little
over the words, adrenaline and fear kicking into overdrive. Ollie
spun, slowly, trying to see if he was watching them. Had seen
everything.

“Walk slowly to your car, bring my dog, and
go home. Come up with a believable excuse. Anyone follows you, and
the alpha dies. Understood?” His dark voice was nothing more than a
whisper over the phone.

She didn’t dare say anything but what he
wanted to hear. “Yes.”

“Then meet me there. Alone. If you show up
with anyone else, I’ll kill them all.” Ollie felt her heart clench,
fear a heavy, cold knot in her belly. “And don’t think I won’t,
Holly. They’re not the main course tonight.”

The phone clicked off. Dead. Ollie stood
there, listening to the dial tone. With one gesture she could have
the whole pack here, everyone ready to go meet the Hunter, ready to
catch this bastard. But something in his voice told her he wasn’t
bluffing.

“Ol, you okay?” Brandt asked and she
nodded.

“It was just Caine. If we’re all good here, I
want to check something back at Enforcement.” The words felt stiff,
foreign, and she forced herself to breathe. To smile. Even if it
felt fake. “Might as well take the dog in while I’m at it. Save
Havers a trip.”

Her brother stared at her for a moment,
watchful, but he gave a slight nod. “Call me if you come up with
anything.”

“I will.” It took everything in her to keep
from breaking as he turned and walked away, trusting her.

Darkness had just begun to fall. They’d spent
most of the day casing the Hunter’s place, digging through every
nook and cranny in the house. Looking for clues they hadn’t found.
He didn’t keep logs or take souvenirs, and whatever gun he used, he
didn’t keep it here. They had a BOLO out on his truck, but they’d
turned up no hits there either. The man was a freaking ghost.

And she had a lead now.

A chance to save everyone.

Ollie took a deep, steadying breath and
stepped towards the squad car. She called out to the slim man
heading its way. “I got it. Gotta run back to the office
anyway.”

The man nodded and turned back for the house.
There was still plenty left to do. Ollie slid inside, felt the cold
press of a dog’s nose against her neck. His tail thumped the seat
happily behind her, and she turned, running her hand over the
rust-colored muzzle. “You’re a good boy,” she whispered, pain
making her breath faint.

Her chest felt too tight, as if the skin had
constricted. There wasn’t enough air in the car for her to breath.
She turned the engine over and rolled down the front windows,
cracking the back for the dog. He knew. Knew she had his dog, knew
they’d figured him out.

This had to be the endgame.

He couldn’t afford to play anymore. Bosley
tilted his head and one floppy ear fell against her hand. She
rubbed it, gentle. “You’re the only chance we have,” she
whispered.

Because apparently he was going to bargain
for his dog.

Soulful brown eyes met hers in the rearview
mirror, the retriever’s mouth opened in a doggie grin. Not at all
concerned. None of this mattered to him. The repercussions of
failing tonight meant nothing to the dog. He didn’t know how many
people his owner had killed, how many more could die.

The Hunter had been nice to him. Maybe even,
if he was capable of it, had loved the dog. She gave the dog one
last pat and turned her attention to the road, trying to plan, but
she didn’t know the game. This wasn’t like any other night of the
full moon. He’d called her. Had Caine. Dean Winters had something
else planned, something she couldn’t even begin to guess at, and it
left her cold with fear. Raw.

By the time her house appeared in the
headlights, twilight had given way to darkness. Her phone buzzed
and she saw Brandt’s name flash on the caller ID. She left it in
the car. If she took too long, he’d get desperate, trace it. It
might still be too late, but it was better than nothing.

Parking in the drive in front of her house,
Ollie turned off the car and stared out of the windshield. The cool
autumn wind cleared her head a bit as she scanned the area around
her house, the trees dark sentinels against a starlit sky. There
was no one inside; the lights were all off in the house. No one
standing, waiting for her with a gun.

“Stay here,” she murmured to the dog and
slipped out of the car, the blackness of night wrapping around her.
Followed closely by the sickening scent of blood.

“I’m here,” Ollie called out, her voice
shaky. “Alone.”

Silence answered her, and she stepped away
from the car, moving towards her house. The scent of blood touched
her nose, and she froze, panic swelling in her chest as she
recognized the scents. Caine. The Hunter. The smell of gunpowder
still lingered along the scene, and she knew it was Caine who had
been shot. Multiple times, if the amount of blood was anything to
go by.