Wild Embrace (31 page)

His eyes glittered, and then he actually flushed—with temper. Grinning as the other packmates in the room, including an overjoyed Ruby, whistled and hooted, she left him simmering and began to walk down the corridor.

Her mood grew darker the closer she got to the infirmary. She entered to find Shane sitting up in bed, a lost expression on his face. “Jem!” He clung to her hand when she took a seat on the bed; the bruises on his face had turned black overnight but Lorenzo had managed to keep the swelling to a minimum.

“What's happening?” Shane's voice rose, his breathing ragged. “Why isn't Athena here?”

“She'll be here soon.” Garnet had no intention of keeping Shane isolated now that he was conscious; that wasn't good for any wolf, much less one who'd been hurt. “I need to talk to you first.”

Shane's deep blue eyes locked on her face. “Why?” he pleaded. “Why am I here? I don't—”

Garnet interrupted before the usually steady-tempered man could spiral into panic. “I want you to tell me what you did yesterday morning after you got off your shift,” she said, careful not to suggest anything with her words. “Go through it step-by-step.”

“Yesterday morning?” Frowning, he let go of her hand to rub at his temple. “I was tired,” he said slowly. “I'd started my shift early, pulled extra hours to help out after one of the other maintenance techs got sick. Wanted to go straight home and crash but I promised Russ I'd meet him after work.”

“Why did you agree to meet him?”

A twisted smile. “I really love Athena and, for some reason, she has a soft spot for that cold bastard. Feels sorry for him.”

Garnet noted his natural use of the present tense when speaking about Russ. “Go on.”

“I thought if I could make peace with Russ, it'd make her happy, you know?”

Garnet sensed no deception in him but it was possible that, horrified by what he'd done, Shane had blocked it out. “Did you take anything with you?”

“No, I left my tools at work as usual, but I did pop home to have a quick shower. Didn't want to meet Russ all dusty and sweaty—he always looks down his damn nose at me.” Shane shrugged. “I'm just as qualified as him, just as educated, but he was always insinuating I was stupid. Asshole.”

Garnet focused on the first part of Shane's statement. He said he'd returned to the apartment, but Athena had specifically denied seeing him the morning of the murder. “What did Athena say when you told her you were keeping your appointment with Russ?”

“She was out so I never saw her.” No hesitation, no tension in his response. “I think she might've been teaching a class. But,” he continued, “it wasn't a big deal. I'd already discussed the whole Russ situation with her before I left for work the night before.” A smile that made creases form in his cheeks. “She was proud of me for being willing to let bygones be bygones, especially after Russ was such a prick and hassled me in front of my workmates.”

A more suspicious mind might say that Athena had been setting Shane up to be the perfect fall guy, but Garnet couldn't quite see it. For flighty, artistic Athena to have used affable Shane in that way, she'd have to be cold-blooded and pragmatic to the extreme under her delicate appearance. Then again, Athena had lived with Russ for years. Maybe she'd absorbed some of his skills at making plans.

But what possible motive could the older woman have to kill her ex?

Long-buried anger? Money? Garnet would check Russ's will, find out if he'd changed it after the separation. Though, given the way he'd hauled in that chemical carpet cleaner so quickly, she'd bet on Russ having long ago drafted a new will. That left Athena with only the flimsy motive of revenge for past wrongs.

“Did you take Russ a peacemaking gift?”

Shane shook his head, his dark blond hair soft and tumbled. “I knew he wouldn't take it.”

“So after your shower . . .”

“I went over to Russ's—didn't want to waste too much time on it, to be honest. Needed to catch some shut-eye.” Eyes scrunched up, he rubbed his temple again. “And then . . .”

“Yes?”

“I . . .” His breath was suddenly fast and shallow. “I can't remember.” Sweat broke out over his brow. “I can't remember anything after that. Why can't I remember?”

Garnet gripped his face between her hands. “Slow it down.
Breathe
.” It took three more clipped orders, her wolf rising to roughen her voice, but she stopped Shane from hyperventilating. Then, once he was calm, she took him back through the entire morning of the murder.

He still couldn't recall anything beyond walking out of his apartment to go to Russ's.

Leaving him with an order to do a simple calming exercise that would keep his mind occupied, she stepped out to talk to Lorenzo.

“I've known Shane since I moved into the den,” the healer said after hearing her report. “He's a piss-poor liar. Can't even bluff at poker.”

Garnet tended to agree. “What are the options? That he's too traumatized by his actions to go back to that point in time, or the knock on the head scrambled his wiring?”

“Exactly.” Lorenzo rubbed his jaw, his heavy gaze going to the door of Shane's infirmary room. “Either way, it's not good for Shane, is it? If he can't defend himself?”

Garnet had a bad feeling in her gut, a nauseating sense of being made the fool. “Maybe there's a third possibility,” she murmured. “Maybe he didn't see anything. His morning ended soon after he stepped inside Russ's quarters.” She stared at the images on the backlit screen on one wall of Lorenzo's office. “Were you able to confirm he was hit from behind?”

“Yes, the digital model just came through.” Lorenzo's gaze was suddenly a dark wolf-amber. “You think someone else was in that room.” The healer shook his head. “But that dead bolt . . .”

Yes, that was the problem.

Lorenzo folded his
arms, his shirt straining across heavily muscled shoulders. “I want Shane to be innocent, but I didn't catch any unknown scents in the room, so even the wild card of a rogue teleporter is out of the question. And trust me, I seriously tried to figure out how to make that a viable scenario.” A vein pulsed at his temple. “Once you strike that from the possibilities . . .”

That
damn
door locked from the inside. “I'm going to bring Shane up to speed.” He deserved to know, and—“His reaction might tell us something.”

“I'll get in touch with Athena, tell her she can visit.” Lorenzo's eyes went to the door of Shane's room again. “He shouldn't be alone.”

“No.” Even the toughest wolf had his breaking point.

Leaving Lorenzo, Garnet reentered Shane's room and told him about the murder. His face froze, his eyes staring at her in blank disbelief before his big body began to shake. “Did I do that?” he whispered, begging her for an answer with his gaze. “Is that why I don't remember?”

“I can't answer that question, not yet.” Garnet brushed back his hair, offering the comfort of pack even as she kept her tone hard, unyielding. Shane's wolf needed to know his dominant was in
charge. “
Nothing
is going to happen until I'm satisfied I know everything there is to know about this situation.”

“Athena.” Shane's eyes welled up and it was the first time she'd ever seen the big, friendly male in such a raw emotional state. “That's why she's not here.”

“Athena's been desperate to see you.” Garnet glanced over her shoulder. “In fact, I think I can scent—”

“Shane!” Running into the room on a wave of lush, feminine scent and whirling multihued skirts, Athena fell sobbing into Shane's arms.

Instead of collapsing himself, Shane's shoulders squared, his tears retreating. As if in looking after her, he'd found his strength. “Shh,” he murmured, running a work-roughened hand over the silken mahogany of Athena's curls. “Jem will figure this out. You know she will.”

Dark blue eyes met hers, entreaty and a fragile hope in their depths.

Yes,
Garnet promised without words before leaving the room and closing the door to give the couple privacy. Her next step was to return to Lorenzo. “Autopsy on Russ?” she asked.

“Done.” Getting to his feet, he turned on the backlit medical screen and pulled up a scan of Russ's heart, pointed out a particular area using the index finger of his left hand. “Knife just nicked the aorta.”

Garnet put her hands on her hips, frowned. “Would that have made Russ collapse where he stood?”

A shake of Lorenzo's head. “A total transection of the aorta and it's game over. He would've exsanguinated before help could arrive. This”—he tapped the image—“was a slow bleed.”

Garnet chewed that over. “Could Russ have had a heart attack from the stress?”
Something
had stopped him from seeking help.

But Lorenzo gave another negative shake of his head. “I checked. Injury-wise, he has the stab wound, scraped knuckles, a few light bruises on his face, but no signs of any other medical or physical event.”

Folding her arms, Garnet thought back to when Shane had grabbed her hand. “The skin on Shane's knuckles looked unbroken to me.”

“No damage that I detected,” Lorenzo agreed. “Aside from the bump on the head—there was a hairline fracture there, by the way”—he pointed out the evidence on another scan—“Shane has those bruises on his face and significant bruising to the ribs. I can't prove it but I don't think they were made by fists.”

Lowering her arms, Garnet turned to look at Lorenzo. “Are you saying he was kicked?”

“He's a big man, strong, too, but he's got no defensive injuries on his hands or arms.” Lorenzo brought up photos of Shane's upper limbs as they'd been when he was first brought in. “So whether it was kicks or blows from an unknown weapon, I'd bet my career that he was already down when it was done.”

The hairs rose on the back of Garnet's neck, her skin tingling. “Leaving aside the lack of defensive injuries,” she said, “if he'd hit Russ hard enough to cause Russ's bruises, we'd expect visible damage, right?”

“He could've got lucky.” Lorenzo didn't sound convinced. “As for Russ . . . it's almost as if he lay down and died.” Tiny lines flaring out from the corners of his eyes, the healer ran a hand through his hair. “Only one reason I can think of for Russ to just give up that way and it makes me sick to my stomach to even consider it.”

“That Athena's the one who dealt the killing blow and Shane's covering for her.” Garnet clenched her jaw so hard it hurt. “I can't see it, Lorenzo. Quite aside from the fact that she's about as dangerous as a cream puff, she has an alibi.” Garnet had run into the head
of the nursery at breakfast and confirmed that Athena had come in early to prep for her class, was in the nursery during the window of time when the murder had most likely taken place. “Unless,” she said, facing Lorenzo's profile, “you think time of death was later in the morning?”

“No.” A definitive shake of his head. “I've processed all the data. Time of death was between seven thirty and eight thirty. I lean toward the earlier end of the spectrum.” Switching out the scans, he gave her a quick update on a juvenile with a broken wrist, before adding, “I know it makes your job harder, but thank God Athena has an alibi. It's taken Shane a long time to find someone with whom he's happy.”

“Love can make people do stupid things.” Just because Athena hadn't taken physical part in the murder didn't mean she wasn't involved. “Keep an eye on them. Call me immediately if you figure out anything else.”

“I don't envy you this, Jem.” Lorenzo's eyes were solemn.

Neither did Garnet, but this was her job, why she was a lieutenant.

Leaving his office on that thought, she went to look in on Pia—who was sulking at being growled at by Lorenzo for her terrible patient skills—then made her way to the indoor training arena. She needed to clear her head, figure out what it was she wasn't seeing. Because there was
something
niggling at her beyond the fact they still had to confirm the origin of the blow to Shane's skull.

A couple of pups in wolf form joined her halfway to her destination, and when she hunkered down to pet them, they didn't dart off. Normally, feeling their rapidly beating hearts beneath her palm, their fur soft as their curious noses sniffed at her, would've been enough to negate all the tension within. Not today. She was still wound up tight when she arrived at the training arena—after
leaving the pups in their father's care. It turned out the siblings had run gleefully away while he was putting together their nursery bag for the day.

Leaning against the back wall of the arena, she watched Kenji take her second-year offensive/defensive class through a routine that was different from hers, but just as effective. He'd changed into plain gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt that hugged his pecs, his feet bare. She wanted to pounce on him. So when he asked for a volunteer to help display a set of moves, she raised her hand while jumping up and down.

His lips twitched before he fixed his features into a stern expression. “It seems we have an eager volunteer.”

The students looked on with wide grins as Garnet sauntered over to join him.

“Be gentle,” she said, loud enough to be overheard. “Don't forget I'm not as big as you.”

Kenji snorted. “I haven't been taken in by that since you put me flat on my back when you were fifteen. I'm pretty sure you were wearing dangly earrings and a sparkly headband at the time.”

Garnet's muscles stopped hurting, her stomach stopped churning.

She laughed, knew her eyes were dancing. Because Kenji was the one who'd taught her the move that had eventually put him flat on his back. He'd grinned while lying on the ground that day, after she'd successfully integrated the move into a sparring session; his green eyes had been wild with a pride that had made her feel ten feet tall.

Kenji Tanaka was one boy who'd never been threatened by her strength.

Wolf so happy to be sparring with him again that it was as eager as a pup, she fell into a relaxed stance. “Well, then, baby,” she said to a round of excited gasps, “shall we play?”

Kenji's stern expression slipped into glittering frustration. Stern didn't really suit him anyway. He was meant for smiles and teasing and affection. Meant for stolen kisses and tumbling her to the floor with sneaky tricks.

Now, his slick black hair sliding forward a little, he showed her his teeth. “Let's play.”

That was it. They went at it.

No slow motion to show the students how to do the same. This was about displaying what SnowDancer wolves
could
do if they worked hard and stayed in peak condition. The one thing she and Kenji did do was pull their kicks and punches so that nothing would leave a permanent bruise. At their speed, however, it wouldn't appear that way to their audience.

Garnet tapped Kenji with a roundhouse kick; he hit out with an open-handed jab to the side of her throat that was a featherlight kiss; she blocked a gut punch; he blocked one to the face.

If they hadn't pulled any one of those hits, the two of them would've been black-and-blue, with a few broken ribs into the bargain. As it was, by the end of the bout—ended by mutual agreement after a meeting of the eyes—they were breathing hard and sweating, but in otherwise much the same condition as when they'd started.

Putting her hands on her hips, she raised an eyebrow at Kenji as her pulse continued to race from the exercise—but mostly from tussling with the sexiest man she knew. “Glad to see old age hasn't slowed you down, Tanaka.”

His lips curved without hesitation this time, wolf eyes full of the same joy that lit her blood. “I try, Sheridan.” Turning to their grinning students, he said, “So, what did you learn?”

A hand went up. “That I never,
ever
want to meet either one of you in a dark alley.”

Laughter ran through the ranks.

•   •   •

Smiling
at the smart-aleck remark that could've come from his own mouth when he'd been younger, Kenji caught the bottle of water Garnet threw over from the small cooler to one side of the training area. It felt so normal to do this, to play with her, to teach with her, that he was a little terrified. Not enough to regret a second of his time with her, however.

Never would he regret time spent with Garnet.

“Aside from that?” he prompted the kids after he'd taken a drink.

“That size doesn't matter if you know what you're doing,” a smaller young male said slowly. “Jem was holding her own even though you're bigger and heavier than her.”

Kenji thought of how he'd used to teach Garnet the things he was taught in his more advanced class, how quickly she'd always caught on. It hadn't been long before her trainers had realized that regardless of her age and size, she needed to be in the advanced class alongside him. “How did she hold her own?”

A pause before a girl answered. “She doesn't use quite the same moves—she's adapted them to make her size an advantage.”

“Good. Keep talking.”

The discussion was energetic and involved, and when Kenji separated the students out into unbalanced pairs to do self-run bouts, they went at it with frowns of concentration. He and Garnet watched over the group for ten minutes to make sure there were no major issues, before walking out together.

“Shane?” he asked once they were in the corridor.

Garnet narrowed her eyes. “We need to look at that room again,” she said after filling him in on their main suspect's broken recollection of events as well as what she'd learned from Lorenzo. “My gut isn't settling.”

Kenji felt he had a good handle on the players now and his instincts echoed Garnet's. “Ruby gave me deep background on Shane after you left the dining area today.” Garnet's sister honestly knew everything about everyone. “If it had been him, I would've expected a heat-of-the-moment burst of anger and violence. The knife to the heart seems cold and showy at the same time.”

“Exactly!” Reaching back to fix her ponytail, her white shirt stretching over the taut mounds of her breasts and drawing his eye like a laser, Garnet bit down on her lower lip. “Do you need to shower?” A teasing gleam in the blue of her eyes, her dimple in full taunting mode. “Not that you don't smell delicious.”

Running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, Kenji glared at her. “Stop messing with me.” He had no defenses where Garnet was concerned and she'd figured that out.

A sinful smile as she closed the distance between them until her boots touched his bare feet. “But I like messing with you, Kenji Tanaka.” Gripping the sides of his T-shirt while he stood frozen in place, unable to break contact, she rose on her toes and nuzzled a kiss to his throat. Right where his pulse ricocheted against his skin in a rapid tattoo.

Then she bit. Hard. Leaving a mark. A possessive, unmistakable mark.

Breath harsh and cock primed, he wound her ponytail in his hand.
“Garnet.”
His chest rumbled.

Drawing in his scent on a luxurious breath, as if she couldn't get enough of him, the dangerous wolf who'd marked him rubbed her thumb over his jaw before stepping back. “We have to be lieutenants first.” Her scent wrapped around him, steel and Garnet and slick, wet welcome.

“Five minutes,” he ground out and stalked off to his quarters before he could talk himself out of it and right into Garnet's arms.

He twisted the water to ice-cold.

When he reached the scene after dressing in blue jeans and a thin gray sweater, boots on his feet, it was to see Garnet just coming around the corner. She'd showered, too, was wearing a pair of chocolate-colored pants that skimmed her legs and cupped her butt, teamed with a V-necked blue sweater and what he'd already figured out were her favorite brown boots.