Silverbow (11 page)

“No one comes to this town to be friendly,” I nearly whispered and climbed to my feet. A wicked smile tugged at his thin lips as he leaned forward, pushed his sleeves back and rested his arms on his knees. He watched me as my lips pulled on the vodka bottle once more and capped it. Taking it as a sign that I was leaving, he frowned and stood. With an arrogant look as though I cared to meet him, he offered his hand. I arched a brow and met his eyes. I let my gaze fall to his hand for a moment and took sudden notice of a black paw print tattoo on his wrist.

“I’m Markham,” he said and stepped closer to me.

“No one comes here to make friends either,” I said and flashed a sarcastic smile before turning on heel and walking away.  With my back to him, my smile faded and I nearly drew my gun to put a pretty hole in that nice head of hair of his. I managed to control myself and headed for my truck while paying attention to my pace so I didn’t appear to be in a hurry. I didn’t know who else was with him and I knew that I, alone, could not take on more than one at a time. I unlocked my truck and as I climbed in, I pulled my Smith and Wesson to my lap just incase someone had followed me.

The coast was clear and I was back on the road heading home with the fires burning bright behind me. My head was ablaze with a scramble of thoughts. The tattoo on his wrist was the same as the one Mrs. Yates had described only she said the bikers’ tattoos were on their necks. It was a connection but one that didn’t line up. Then the heat; I felt him approach the way I usually felt Murphy. That confused me even more. What would I do now? I knew Charlie would call me if he noticed anyone out of the ordinary or inked with the paw on the neck. I was pretty sure this Markham cat had to be a part of the bikers’ crew. How was I going to take care of this on my own? I reached my house long before I could even fathom a single answer to any of my own questions.

CHAPTER 9

A panicked breath rushed through my lips as I sat straight up in bed. My father’s murder was haunting my dreams more than usual now that that grave had been dug up. I raked my fingers through my hair, still damp from my shower, and turned to wake Greyden. I held my breath for a moment and sat looking at the emptiness beside me. Greyden had not come to bed yet. Glancing at the alarm clock on his side of the bed, I saw that it was almost five in the morning and he should have turned in a couple of hours ago. It was Thursday and he would have to work the fence.

I reached for my phone and dialed the bar. No one answered. It wasn’t like him to spend a night away from me without letting me know beforehand. I jumped out of the bed and grabbed yesterday’s jeans off the floor and pulled them on. Grabbing a shop shirt, I slid into it and yanked my messy hair back in a sloppy ponytail. After a quick brush of my teeth, I tied on my sneakers and quickly headed downstairs. All the lights were off and he was no where to be found. Opening the front door with my keys in hand, I noticed his bike wasn’t there. Something was wrong. Fuck.

I fired up my black beauty and headed towards the bar. The town was still sleeping. All the shop lights were out. The only major light on my path was the “vacancies” light that flickered on the inn’s sign. Murphy’s car was parked outside of his room and a few other car’s littered the parking lot. I wondered if Mr. Yates was still locked up in his room, drying out.

I slammed on my breaks as something darted into the road ahead of me and vanished into the darkness on the other side. Fucking coyotes. After pulling my heart back out of my throat, I pulled away and turned into the parking lot of the bar. Greyden’s bike was still outside, along with several others and there were still lights on inside. Why in the hell were they still open? I headed for the front door and found that it was locked. I could hear worried voices inside and pounded my fist against the door. The voices hushed and someone peered out the window at me. The door unlocked and opened just enough to allow me inside.

My eyes widened and my hands covered my mouth as I saw the body lying over two tables that had been pushed together. A firm hand took my shoulder and pushed me towards the bar and away from the disfigured body and the man working on it. Greyden crossed the room with wet and dry towels in his hands and passed them to the doctor. I turned to see who was touching me and watched tears stream down Mr. Yates’s cheeks. He looked as though he had aged ten years since I had dropped him off. My eyes shot back at the blood soaked body that began to seize on the table. A quiet gasp echoed on the other side of the room and I wondered why anyone had been allowed to stay and watch this.

The man that worked diligently on sewing up the huge rips and punctures that littered the body was Dr. McCree. He had been a prison doctor for years. He was in his early sixties now and still as sharp as he was in his twenties. The short hearty Irishman worked feverishly and called for someone to help hold the body still. Mr. Yates stepped away from me and moved to press his large strong hands against the patient’s shoulders. He leaned down and whispered into a red caked ear and it was then that I realized who the person was. Mrs. Yates had been turned into human hamburger and it was a scary and depressing sight.

I turned my head and looked away when she began to choke and vomit blood. My eyes found Greyden behind the bar and I pushed my way through to join him.

“What happened to her,” I whispered, keeping my eyes on him and away from the gruesome show. He took a moment to reply and then turned to face me.

“We found her in the parking lot like that,” he mumbled and then turned away from me. Not once did he look me in the eye. I wondered if this had put him in shock. I reached for his hand and he pulled away and walked towards the kitchen door. What the fuck? I was more worried about Mrs. Yates at the moment to chase after him.

Suddenly Mr. Yates sobbed loudly and I turned to watch him sink to his knees and press his forehead against the head of his wife. From the body language of the doctor and the shaking shoulders of Mr. Yates, I could tell there was nothing more anyone could do. Mrs. Yates now lay still on the tables. I watched as blood dripped onto the floor as if it were her life seeping from her veins. Whoever did this was a beast. There was a rip in her neck and across her torso. Gaping holes, like bite marks from a tiger, cluttered her arms, legs and face. It looked like something chewed her up and spit her out in a bloody wad.

The doctor wiped his hands clean with the wet towel as he shook his head. He glanced at a clock and then began covering her face with one of the clean towels. Mr. Yates stood and wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket.

“Will someone help me carry her out? I’m going to take her to the base hospital,” he asked and looked around the room like a lost child. He was going to take her body to the same hospital they took my father to. I didn’t want to go back there. Greyden suddenly walked out of the kitchen and headed towards Mr. Yates and his dead wife.

“I’ll help,” he said and glanced at me as I started to walk out from behind the bar. “You stay,” he said stiffly and pointed at me. I was dumbfounded by this and shoved the counter top door open and stepped out. He couldn’t tell me what to do. “You are not coming with us, Dakota,” he snapped and I cut my eyes at him.

“What the fuck is your problem,” I asked through a tight jaw.

“Which one,” he asked, implying there was more than one. Mr. Yates reached out and Greyden assisted as they lifted her limp body from the table. Dr. McCree ran for the door and held it open for them. When the door closed and Greyden was gone, I was happy he took his attitude with him.

“Can anyone tell me what the fuck just happened,” I asked the room and the six people left in it started to talk at once. They settled back down and Jim DeHaven, the owner of the town’s tobacco shop, spoke up.

“We were all heading out at three and she was lying at the bottom of the stairs like that. Greyden left the place open longer for us because its my birthday and luckily Dr. McCree was here for it. Well, maybe not so lucky. She was beyond help. No one heard anything outside prior to finding her,” he filled me in.

“I left early and talked to her in the parking lot. However, when I left she was in one piece,” I added and then sunk into a chair. “Did anything else happen? Greyden seems pretty upset.”

“Someone came in to talk to him a couple of hours ago. He seemed pretty ill tempered after that,” someone offered and I just sighed. There was no telling who or what that was all about. I stood with the rest of the remaining people and headed out.

The sun was rising outside with briskness. As I drove home I tried to keep the image of Mrs. Yates’s mangled body from my mind and thought more about Markham. Before I could get too lost in thought again, I passed the Inn and Murphy’s car was gone. Shit. It was Thursday and maybe he decided to work today since he took yesterday off. I sped up and bolted home.

Pulling into the driveway, I found Murphy sitting in the porch swing with a cigarette hanging between his lips and his feet propped up on the porch railing. I grunted as I shoved my door open and climbed out of my cab.

“Wow, someone showed up today,” I said sarcastically. After everything I had just seen and experienced, I was not in the best of moods. My sneakers scuffed up the front steps and brought me a mere yard away from Murphy. Plucking the cigarette away, smoke coiled from the slit in his degenerate smirk. “Mrs. Yates was killed at the bar. Know anything about that?”

“Can’t say that I do. However, I am sure its not a loss to this town to get rid of the walking STD,” he said crassly. I reached out and snatched his feet down off my porch railing and let them fall ungracefully to the floor.

“You’re an ass, Murphy. A man’s wife was murdered,” I said as my arms crossed.

“I don’t see you crying,” he replied and crossed his arms, mocking me. “I think you are still a little jealous,” he prodded. I couldn’t believe how cocky he was. Okay, I could believe it. I was getting used to it, but at a time like this?

“Greyden won’t talk to me. What happened when I left,” I asked accusingly. He arched a brow and relaxed his arms. He shook his head and then stood from the swing.

Suddenly he was on me. His heat washed over me and his hands pressed into my shoulders and spun me up against the side of the house. My breath was forced from me under his power and I didn’t have much time to inhale before his mouth found mine. He kissed me hard and when I got a hold of his bottom lip with my teeth, I bit down. He yanked his head back and the taste in my mouth was salty, metallic and strangely acidic. It burned my tongue and I winced as I swallowed. One hand released my shoulder as he wiped his bleeding lip with his sleeve and held me down once more. I could feel our electricity eating at my shoulders.

“What do you want me to say,” he asked as he pulled his face close to mine again. His breath rushed my lips. “I told him everything? That I fucked you without putting a single finger on you? That you get off on just being in the same room with me? That you think of me when you’re fucking him? Or that you put on the sexiest little strip tease known to man in the body shop for me? I bet you’d be pretty pissed at me for that, huh?” His words were heated and his own climate was almost unbearable.

“How do you do it,” I asked quietly as my eyes searched his. “How do you touch me like that when you aren’t even here?” A demonic smile paired with sultry eyes stared back at me. He released one of my shoulders long enough to tap his temple suggestively and returned his grip. “Why are you in my head?”

“Why me, why me?” he whined tauntingly and growled through clinched teeth. “Because I want you and at the same time…I can’t have you.” The last part caught me off guard. I was confused. How could he not have me? I was right there in his hold and if he wanted it, I’d give it to him. His heat was seducing me and even though I should have been terrified, I wanted the monster in him. Something came to life within me when he finally admitted to me that he wanted me. Something began to burn and stir.

“Why can’t you have me? Have I not offered myself? Do you not have the strength to just take me?” My words were slightly more than a whisper now. His fingers gripped my shoulders harder and the side paneling of the house bit into my back. My back arched and I drew in a deep breath. My reaction made him press into me with his whole body and bring his face down to my neck. I heard him take a slow deep breath, inhaling me. His lips found my pulse and the slight scrape of teeth sent it fluttering. I wanted him so badly and I wanted to know what had me so addicted.

“I just can’t. It would be a nightmare for both of us,” he growled into my neck and slipped one hand behind my head. His fingers webbed into my hair and pulled gently. I felt my craving pull with it. My hands rose to his sides and around him to his back. My short nails curled into his flesh beneath the long sleeved black shirt he was wearing and I could feel the vibration of his growl between our chests. “Stop,” he whispered against my neck. I let my hands fall away from him and he released my hair. He deserted me all at once, stepping away and leaning back against the porch rail. His arms crossed and his eyes went cold.