The Better to Bite (6 page)

I nodded. I hadn’t expected that question.

“Were you bitten?”

Why, was he going to take me in for a rabies shot?

“
Were you bitten?”
Seated together on the motorcycle, he had to be close to me. Only inches separated our faces. The gold in his eyes looked darker than before.

“No, no, I wasn’t.” My voice sounded a little husky.

“Are you sure?” There was a hard intensity in his voice and eyes. “This is real important, and I have to know the truth.”

Fine,
fine.
I yanked up my sleeve and showed him my bandage. “Just a claw mark, okay? His claws caught me when I fell—”

He grabbed my arm—in a very, very fast move—and pulled the bandage off in an instant.

“Hey!” I snapped. “What are you—”

“Claws.” His breath rasped out in what could have been a relieved sigh.

I peered at my arm. The marks weren’t as red now. The lines actually seemed to have shrunk a bit. Still raised though. Each mark was a couple of inches long.

“I’m not getting rabies or anything, okay? You don’t have to worry about—”

“I wasn’t worrying about rabies.” His fingers smoothed over my arm. His fingertips felt a little rough, like he had calluses on them.

I swallowed. “Then what? What’s the big deal?”

But he only shook his head. The guy had some extremely long lashes. I couldn’t help but notice since we were kissing close.

He pulled away a bit, putting some space between us.

I took a quick breath and could have sworn I tasted him.

“So…” And I climbed off the bike. I could do the space routine, too. I walked a few feet away. “Is that the only question you wanted to ask me?”

“No.”

I waited. Look at me not blurting anything, just waiting. I was making some serious progress.

“Why are you going out with Brent Peters?”

I rocked back a bit on my heels. Was he jealous? Maybe. Maybe not. “Because I want to?”

He kicked down the stand and climbed off the motorcycle. “You need to be careful around him.”

“What is up with people giving me warnings in this town?” Now I was annoyed. “This is gonna come as a shock, but I can actually take care of myself.” I had my black belt in Karate. My dad had made sure I knew how to defend myself at an early age. I might look small, but I could pack a mean punch.

And all that nice, personal space I’d put between us? He eliminated it in like two seconds. He caught my arm, his hold gentle despite the roughness of his fingertips. His hand rested just below my wound. “You sure about that? Maybe you were a bad ass back home,” his tone said he doubted that, “but, Chicago, I think you are way out of your element here.”

My chin—one that was perhaps a little too pointed—lifted. “You don’t know my element.”

All traces of humor left his face. “And you don’t know what you’re dealing with here in Haven. If you’re not careful, you could get hurt.” His thumb smoothed over my arm. “And it will be a whole lot worse than a little scratch.”

“I’m not scared.” Not of this town and not of him. Not really.

Then I realized…those were almost the same words I’d said to Granny Helen.

In the next instant, the guy totally blew my mind because he said, “Brent thinks I’m interested in you, so he’s trying to beat me to the punch.”

Wait, what? I did a quick interpretation and my jaw sagged a bit. “You’re saying he’s asking me out because—”

“Because he thinks he’s taking something I want.”

My breath caught in my throat.

His eyes glittered at me. “He’s using you, Anna,” he said flatly. “Don’t let him do that.”

I wet my lips. “I don’t let anyone use me.” But that was a lie. I had before…the cops in Chicago had used me on their cases, and once, my Dad had used my
difference
. Yet hearing these words from Rafe, well, they pissed me off. No, he pissed me off. “And I’m guessing the fact that maybe he just likes me never once crossed your mind?”

I could actually hear his teeth snap together. “I know him well,” he gritted, “Brent can be a real ass.”

“And so can you.”

He blinked. “I’m trying to help you!”

“Really?” It didn’t so much look that way from where I was standing. “From what I’ve gathered at school, Brent’s the good guy, the class hero.
Everyone
seems to like him.” I stared back at him. “People aren’t quite so complimentary about you.”

“That so?” He took a stalking step toward me.

I didn’t back up. I was too mad then. “Yeah, that’s so.”

“Then why are you here with me?”

Because I’m an idiot
. “Because I needed a ride, and if you don’t mind, I’d really like to finish up that ride and get home.”
And away from you.
I didn’t say that part. I was being a lady, but I figured the words must be pretty clear to read on my face.

“Fine.”

I marched by him. My shoulder brushed his.

“I don’t want to see you hurt.” The words were growled at me.

I frowned at him. “No one’s going to hurt me.” Then, because I had to ask—just couldn’t let it go, I said, “Brent thinks you want me? Do you…um, I mean…” Great, so smooth. “What do you—”

He shook his head and that cut off my stumbling words. His blue gaze seemed to burn me, but then he simply told me, “I can’t.”

What kind of answer was that?

He headed back to the motorcycle and climbed on.

I guess it was the only answer I was getting.

I can’t.
Perhaps it was better than him saying, “You suck,” but I still took it the same way. I climbed on the bike behind him, and I tried to leave some space between us. “Just get me home.”  I pulled on the helmet.

I thought Rafe said something else, but I couldn’t hear him. Maybe I didn’t want to hear him.

He spun the motorcycle around. A shower of dust and dirt rose in our wake. Then the bike pushed forward, and we snaked off that little path. The main road curved and shifted, and with every move, I had to inch a little closer to Rafe, had to hold on a little tighter. He was driving faster than he should, and I wondered if he was doing that so I
had
to hold tight.

We cleared one more curve, and then I saw the flashing police lights. Two deputy cars. My dad stood near his vehicle, and he glanced up at the sound of the motorcycle’s snarling engine.

I knew trouble when I saw it. So did my dad.

Rafe braked, and yanked off his helmet. Much, much slower, I removed mine. “What’s going on?” Rafe demanded and the worry in his voice gave me a moment’s pause.

My dad’s cold gaze raked over him, then came to rest on me. His blond eyebrows rose, and I knew I was toast. “Nice bus, Anna.”

“I, um, missed the bus?” I tried for innocence.

Those eyebrows didn’t lower. 

I tried again. “He’s our neighbor, Dad, he was just giving me a ride—”

“I know exactly who Rafe is.” Sometimes, icicles could drip from my dad’s voice.

Other voices rose and fell, and two deputies emerged from the brush. They were carrying a big bag, sort of like the kind that folks would put their suits in when they went on trips. Long, black, thick.

My stomach clenched.

“What’s in the bag?” Rafe demanded.

I knew what was in the bag, and I suspected Rafe knew, too. I climbed off the motorcycle. Now I could see a few more people at the scene. A forest ranger was on the right, near the edge of the road. He was talking into his phone.

“A ranger found remains in the woods today.”

I wondered who they’d found. Dad wouldn’t be telling me, not in front of Rafe.

Before I could speak, a deputy came up and slapped my dad on the back. The deputy had more than a bit of a bulge near his stomach—too many doughnuts—and small, snapping black eyes.  “Another animal attack, huh, Sheriff? That’s the second kill we found this week! I’m thinking we might need to open us an early huntin’ season on—”

“Deputy!”

I saw Rafe stiffen.

My dad took a deep breath. “Deputy Hollis, go secure the scene.”

The deputy glanced my way, and he finally seemed to realize that, whoops, civilians were there. “Yes, sir.”

The black bag was loaded into the back of a van. Wait, was that an ME’s van? I hadn’t even realized that Haven had its own ME. Almost impressive.

“Go wait in my car, Anna,” My dad told me in his no-arguing, dead-serious voice.

I glanced at him, then at Rafe. I knew when to pick my battles. Besides, I wanted to get as far away from Rafe as I could right then.

I can’t.
How insulting was that?

Between the body and my boiling rage, I needed to get away from everything right then. “Thanks for the ride,” I managed to say to Rafe.

His head inclined. I brushed by him.

I didn’t look back, well, not until I was at my dad’s car. Then I risked a fast glance over my shoulder. My dad had leaned in real close to Rafe, and I could tell by the expressions on their faces that they were both angry. Then Rafe spun away, jumped on his motorcycle, and roared down the road.

Not the smartest move when so many deputies were nearby. Surprisingly, no one gave chase.

When my dad turned back to look at me, I expected to see more anger on his face. Instead, I just saw fear.

Unease rippled beneath my skin as I wondered what could make my dad—a man who’d taken out cold-blooded killers—afraid?

I didn’t think I wanted to know.

Friday night in Haven. Party time.

Or, game time.

The roar of the crowd filled my ears as everyone around me shot to their feet. The football players burst through the giant “
Murder Mayville!”
sign, ripping and shredding the decorated sheet as they launched onto the field.

Jenny jumped up and down beside me, shouting her heart out. Shouting mostly for Troy.

Seriously?

I rubbed my head. Dad almost hadn’t let me come out tonight. The guy had put me on lockdown for the last two days. So I’d slipped away from the bus and driven home with Rafe—did that really require a freak-out?

According to him, yes. Extreme yes.

“They are so
hot!”
Jenny collapsed onto the bleacher. “Look at the way the uniform shows off their butts—isn’t that just awesome?”

It was the first game of the season, and the field behind the school was packed. The cheerleaders clapped their way down the line of bleachers, and the crowd began to chant along with them.

I didn’t know a word of these chants. My claps were off rhythm. I was so out of my element.

I’d been to football games before. I’d lost bets and had to back in Chicago. But football just wasn’t for me.

“Look!” Jenny’s fingers clamped onto my arm. Luckily, she clamped down a few inched below my claw marks. “There’s Brent!”

His head bent as he listened to the coach. He had black paint spread under each eye, and his helmet hung loosely from his right hand. In that green jersey and wearing those tight, white pants, I had to admit that Jenny was right.

He did look pretty awesome. Yes, indeed.

Then the coach left him. Brent looked up at the bleachers. His gaze swept over the crowd, like he was looking for someone. Like—

He waved.

I glanced over my shoulder at the exact moment that Jenny told me, “
OhmyGod!
He’s waving at you.”

I looked back at the field. Brent was smiling now. I couldn’t see his dimples, not from this far away, but it would have been impossible to miss the flash of his white teeth.

Using that death-grip on my arm, Jenny jerked up my hand and waved back at him.

A referee blew his whistle and a drumbeat of music rolled over the loudspeakers.

Brent turned away.

“Oh, she totally hates you,” Jenny said in her cheerful voice.

Because she did sound so cheerful, it took a moment for her words to register. “What?” I dragged my gaze off Brent.
Not really interested in you.
He was sure acting interested.

Rafe could bite me.

“Drift your gaze five feet to the right,” she directed me.

I did. The cheerleaders were making a pyramid. Well, most of them were. Valerie wasn’t climbing up that human wall because she had her hands on her hips, and she was too busy glaring at me.

“Should I wave to her, too?” I wondered.

“Definitely
not,”
Jenny told me, and laughed. The sound was just as light as always. Happy.

I was starting to like Jenny’s laughs.

“Oh, and, look, there’s Rafe.”

My gaze darted around the bleachers. It took me a minute to realize that Jenny meant Rafe was
there
, as in,
on the field.
As in…he was number thirteen. Wait, wasn’t that supposed to be unlucky? “I didn’t know he played.” Didn’t know, didn’t care. And if I didn’t stop having those stupid dreams about him and wolves—I’d had them every night that week—I was gonna freak.

“Sure, he’s great!” Her hands slapped together in an enthusiastic clap. “He can stop anyone.”

Um, okay.

The coin toss was over. I didn’t even know who’d won. Rafe had donned his helmet and taken up his position on the field.

For some reason, I started to feel nervous.

Then the game began. It began with a
roar.
The other team kicked the football and it flew high in the air, soaring, soaring…the green jerseys raced forward and number sixteen caught the ball. Everyone around me screamed.

I knew my ears would be dead by the end of this game.

The minutes ticked by as everyone's attention locked on the field. There were downs, tackles, and the teams tossed control of the ball back and forth.

The ball moved fast, flying around the field, but the players, they moved
faster.

Not all the players…
Rafe.
Maybe I was just focusing on him too much, but the guy seemed to be eating up that field way too quickly. As I watched, he slammed into the guy trying to race away with ball, and the Mayville Marauder with the bright red uniform went down with a thud.

Everyone jumped off the bleachers and screamed—again.

I realized I needed to take a breath.

Rafe rose and offered his hand to the guy on the ground. Very slowly, the downed player took that hand.