Sadie Hart (7 page)

Caine pressed harder against the small of her
back, and suddenly Holly closed that little space between them
until her body flatted against his. Molten heat and soft, rounded
skin pressed against him. He tilted his head, nuzzling through her
long hair to breathe in the scent of her. Silver. Wolf. Dog. She’d
shifted? There was another dog there, too, on her skin.

Then as fast as she’d caved, she stiffened
again. “Wow. This is so inappropriate.”

Holly started to pull back, pushing into his
chest to enforce the added distance, but Caine inhaled softly
against her skin, only to scent again, breathing her down until she
filled him. A laugh slid out of her, sharp and startled. “Are you
smelling me?”

“Only a little,” he said against her neck,
voice gruff. “There was a second dog with you recently.”

“Mine.” She swallowed, her pulse bobbing with
the motion. Fear? He turned to skim the scuff of his morning
stubble along her neck, felt her chin tilt back instinctively in
submission. Relaxing.

Caine pulled back. “She okay?”

“What makes you so certain my dog’s a
girl?”

“One,” he lifted a hand to tug a piece of her
hair back behind her ear. “I can smell her on you. And two, you
don’t seem like the kind of woman who likes too many males in your
life.”

“Coming from the man who was just groping
me.”

A wry edge of a smile touched his lips. “If
I’d been groping you I wouldn’t have stopped at your neck.”

Come to think of it, he didn’t want to stop
at her neck now. She was a distraction. A hell of a surprising one
at that. Going home meant he had to round up Claire’s family, tell
them the official news: Their daughter wasn’t coming home. Ever.
That he’d failed them, failed the pack, failed Claire. Letting go
of Holly and going home meant a lot of things he’d rather just
avoid.

And burying himself deep inside a certain
Hound would be a nice way to do it.

Holly scrubbed a hand over her face, a deep
breath shaking through her. “If I weren’t so tired right now, you
wouldn’t even have gotten that far. I am sorry for your loss,
though. I’ll let you know when we can release Claire’s body.”

Caine watched as she mentally gathered
herself up, her spine straightening, breath coming sharper,
steadier. Then she began to take a step back, and he touched her
chin with nothing more than the pads of his fingertips, soft. She
froze. His gaze skimmed over her lips. Thick, full, the kind of
lips a man could devour and come back for seconds.

Yeah. Holly Lawrence would be one hell of a
way to distract himself. Caine stepped closer and she pulled her
head back, her pulse beating like a rabbit’s under his touch.

“I think we both need some sleep.” She
touched his wrist softly, then shoved. “Separately.”

He didn’t try to stifle his smile, and she
nodded, eyes warm. “Yeah. Didn’t think I’d followed your train of
thought there, did ya? Go home, Caine.”

“One thing first.”

“I’m not kissing you.”

“Nah. Hadn’t expected you would.” Yet. They’d
get to that, he decided. Because this wasn’t the last time he’d be
seeing Holly. Something sick and dark lurking in his gut told him
that, a virus that ate at him. He would definitely see her again,
and it probably wouldn’t be for anything good. There’d be time to
steal a kiss to help him forget.

“Did she die alone?”

Like everyone else.

Pain slashed over her face, a hard, brutal
line that made her look away before she had to admit to the tears
building in her eyes. “No.”

Caine reached up to run his knuckles down her
cheek. She turned to him, startled, gray eyes wide. They shimmered
with unspent tears. Tears she’d no doubt spill later. He hoped
someone would be there to wipe them away for her. To hold her. He
stepped away with a nod.

“Then thank you.”

Chapter Six

Exhausted, Ollie
turned up her driveway. For a second her heart leapt at the sight
of a dark form standing on her back porch, panic making her breath
catch. Then the shadowy man stepped forward, the light from the
side of her house catching familiar features topped by curly hair
rumpled like a man dragged fresh out of bed, and she could feel
herself grinning. Her brother Brandt. Sliding the car into park,
she zipped out, slamming the door behind her with her hip. “What
are you doing here?”

“Nana called. Said you weren’t sleeping.” Her
brother’s gruff voice called out, heavy with worry and affection,
and Ollie found herself hurrying up the walk, her strides long,
even as he hopped down off the porch with his arms open wide.

She scrunched up her nose. “You didn’t come
here straight from bed, did you?”

“Yeah. I did. Last night. You’re still worth
it.”

Ollie skidded to a stop. “That’s a nine hour
trip.”

“Which is why I caught a plane. I had the
vacation time anyway.” His hazel eyes darkened, his lips thinning
in a small scowl. “Hell, girl. You’re running yourself thin.”

He leaned forward, reaching to catch her in a
hug and froze, drawing back far enough that she could see his
eyebrows lift with surprise. “Why do you smell like wolf? Very much
like one wolf in particular? New boyfriend?”

A teasing glint flashed in his eyes. Caine.
The blush crept up her cheeks before she could stop it. The joys of
having a dog-shifter for a brother. There were never any secrets.
“It was just a friendly hug.”

“I’m sure.” A corner of Brandt’s lips lifted
in a half-smile, teasing. But he didn’t push it. Obviously she
looked too much like crap for that, and for once she was grateful
for the lack of sleep. She wasn’t in the mood to try to convince
him. Brandt tilted his head back towards the house, his wavy hair
falling across his forehead. It made him look fifteen again. Sly,
full of cocksure charm, and already planning how to get his sister
to succumb to his latest plan. The same mischievous boy she’d grown
up with.

And together they’d landed in their fair
share of trouble.

“Why don’t we get you inside and get some
food in you?”

His hand brushed her arm, but Ollie was
already pulling away. No. She glanced out at the field. The sun had
already erased most of the morning fog, leaving only a light haze
of mist still lingering over the empty meadow. A storm was brewing,
probably a light rain, but it wouldn’t hit until later that
afternoon. Not that it mattered. She’d stand out here all day if
she had to.

She could already have missed him, but for
some reason she doubted that.

This was personal now. The Hunter was making
that damn clear. Killing in the same spots he’d lost her, killing
on her land, in front of her house, fucking with her while she
tried to get there in time. A shudder rattled up her spine and
Ollie sucked in a hard breath. No. He’d wait, wait until he was
sure she was aware of his presence.

“Not yet.” She glanced at Brandt, saw the
instant scowl on her brother’s face, and sighed. Privileged
information be damned. Lennox could bring him in on the case if she
wanted; after all, Brandt Lawrence was the STE alpha out of
Colorado. It’d be a bonus to have another Hound on the case,
especially another alpha. Especially the one who’d helped Lennox
the day she’d been kidnapped by a rogue Hound and mass
murderer.

Running a hand over her eyes to ward off the
exhaustion, Ollie let herself lean into her brother, felt the
moment he stiffened at the show of weakness, followed immediately
by his arms wrapping around her.

“He comes back,” she muttered. “The day
after.”

“What makes you think he hasn’t already come
and gone? You did.” He tilted his head towards her car, but she
shook her head.

“I just know. I know him, okay?”

“And you’re not going to sleep? Get some
rest?”

“Not until he comes. And he’ll come.”

Brandt’s gaze narrowed as he stared out over
the empty field. The Hounds were apparently gone, but a loop of
yellow Enforcement tap still blocked off the scene. They’d have
bloodhounds out this afternoon most likely, again, to see if they
could find anything else.

“If he always comes back, why don’t you have
your pack out here?”

She shook her head. “There’s an unmarked on
the road, and a Hound or two out in the bush, but Lennox can’t have
the whole pack on this today. They have other cases and, well, he’s
consistent. Not stupid.”

And I can handle it. But saying that to her
big brother wouldn’t make any difference. To Brandt, she’d always
be his little sister. Enforcement Hound or not. “So I’m standing
vigil. He’ll want me here.”

“Which you’re going to explain to me very
soon. But first—” Brandt ushered her towards the porch. “You’re
going to sit down while I fetch something cold to drink. Then we’ll
talk.”

“There’s beer in the fridge.”

It was barely noon, but she didn’t care. One
look at Brandt, the flash of relief in his eyes, and she could see
he didn’t really give a damn either. Five o’clock somewhere after
all, eh? She watched him go, taking the steps in one bound. He
looked rumpled. Ratty t-shirt, dirt-worn jeans, sneakers.
Definitely not the cool, composed Hound he always was at work. More
the boy she’d grown up with than the man he’d become.

She smiled. “All right, Nana. You win. I
needed this,” she muttered, but she would never say it to her
grandmother’s face. Her grandmother was right so often that she
didn’t need the ego boost. A laugh slid out of her as she sank down
onto one of the lawn chairs she kept on the wrap-around back
deck.

“Is that a laugh I just heard from you, Ol?”
he called from inside, and she shook her head, leaning back to
stare up at the crisp blue sky stretched out overhead. There was
moisture in the air, the taste of an oncoming storm, but none of
the sulfur flavor that typically meant lightning. Just a nice, cool
fall rain.

A beer appeared in front of her face, already
opened, and Ollie accepted it with a grunt of appreciation, taking
a swallow while Brandt snagged a chair and slid it over next to
hers. They sat there a moment, enjoying the liquid burn down their
throats, the morning chatter of the birds, and the sight of an
empty meadow in front of them.

The woods sat further out, beyond the heather
and patches of shrubbery, and she could now understand why, with
nothing more than a sliver of moon, she’d been unable to see far
enough into the brush to spot where Claire Rawson lay dying.

Brandt gave a soft sigh, his beer resting
against his knee, apparently casual. But she was acutely aware of
the tension that lingered in him.

“Are you okay?” The words came out rough,
harder than normal, and she recognized the worry in his voice.

He didn’t look at her, just stared out at the
field and the yellow crime scene tape. But she knew what he was
asking. Was she okay since the Hunter had caught her, since her
escape, since people had died because of the game he was choosing
to play with her now? Ollie nodded, scrabbling for the strength to
say so, and he snorted.

“Don’t lie to me. If anyone knows when you’re
about to lie, it’s me. You have to take a breath before you can
answer. Gather courage; concentrate on making your voice level.”
The muscle in his jaw flexed, and his hand clenched on his beer as
if he might lift it to take a sip, but he didn’t. “It’s okay to say
no.”

“Then, no. I’m not.” I’ll never be okay
again. Those girls, they’re my fault. But she didn’t say that last
part. She clamped her lips shut and looked away.

Brandt nodded. “I got that. Last bit,
too.”

And she knew that even though she hadn’t said
it, he knew exactly what she was thinking. Years working as a
Hound, a lifetime of being her brother, he knew. Brandt looked at
her, seeing more than anyone else ever would have. Her shoulders
slumped under the weight of his gaze. He also didn’t say it wasn’t
her fault, and, although she’d been refusing to accept it when
others said them, the lack of those words, that comfort, made her
heart squeeze in her chest.

“You said it’s personal now. Why?”

She explained the crime scenes, the note. How
the Hunter had toyed with her. Brandt closed his eyes at the last,
a growl easing slowly out of him, a dangerous rumbling undercurrent
of sound.

She shrugged. “So, when he comes back? I
think he’ll want to make sure I know. Leave me another gift.”

“Like that goddamn note? Yeah. I got it.”
Brandt lifted his beer to drink and froze. “If I hadn’t shown up,
you wouldn’t have called anyone to watch with you, would you?”

“No.” She whispered it, the admission
probably too faint for him to hear.

“Damn. Ollie.” He squeezed his eyes shut and
gulped, his throat making a sharp, hard sound as he swallowed. “I
ought to see about having Lennox remove you from this case. You’re
getting careless.”

“But you won’t.”

“No. We all have to have these cases. The
ones that haunt us. The ones that define us.”

“The Caesar Torres case was yours.”

Brandt shook his head. “No. That was
Lennox’s. Mine is a story for another day.” With a tilt of his chin
towards the field, he looked at her. “So, you know him?
Everything.”

Ollie found herself rolling her eyes, like
she was nothing more than a thirteen year old girl not really
believing her brother would skateboard off the roof. He had. Right
onto a homemade ramp, and then he’d slid to safety. She’d followed
suit, slid off the board, and broken her arm. A smile touched her
lips. Back then, he could have talked the devil out of a soul.

Now, he was proving that he could talk her
right into comforting herself. Ollie forced herself not to smile.
She’d wanted him to tell her everything was going to be okay, that
it wasn’t her fault, but Brandt wouldn’t do that.