Beneath a Darkening Moon

by Keri Arthur

  Then everything reeled to full speed. The truck was gone, people were screaming, and all she could see was Ronan lying on the pavement.

  Not moving.

  No, no, no. God, no. He can't be dead. He can't—

  Hands were on her, shaking her. She blinked and looked up. Cade, white-faced and fear in his eyes.

  But she couldn't allow herself to think about that yet. Not until she knew.

  "I'm fine. I'm fine." But Ronan wasn't. She knocked away Cade's grip, ducked under his arms and ran to Ronan. Dropping to her knees beside him, she touched his neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there—racing, but strong.

  Relief ran through her, washing the strength from her and leaving her feeling momentarily weak. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. That didn't do much to ease the sick churning in her stomach as she said, “Someone get an ambulance."

  Her voice sounded so calm, so official. Odd when she felt so fragmented.

  A hand touched her shoulder and squeezed gently. She knew who it was without looking. The heat of him, the scent of him, filled her senses, even as strength seemed to flow from his fingertips.

  She looked up and smiled. His expression was as stony as his navy eyes. It only took her a moment to realize why. Her reaction had reinforced his believe that she loved Ronan.

  Which she did, but not in the way he believed.

  Before she could say anything to Cade, Ronan groaned and opened his eyes.

  "Forget the ambulance. I'm fine.” He rolled onto his back, his breath hissing through clenched teeth. “Well, fine except for the fact that it feels like a hundred elephants have been racing up and down my body."

  "You're lucky,” Cade said, moving around to squat on the opposite side of Ronan. “If Savannah hadn't thrown that trash can, you probably wouldn't be alive right now to complain about the elephants."

  Ronan's gaze met hers and he smiled. “That's one I owe you, then."

  "Anytime, my friend.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently, more to reassure herself than him. “But you are, however, going to the hospital to be checked out, and then Steve is going to escort you home and watch over you while you rest."

  "Steve? God, he smells worse than a distillery these days."

  "He doesn't drink on the job,” she said mildly. “And it's either Steve or you get out of town."

  "I'll take Steve."

  She figured as much. Ronan wasn't one to leave a job half done. Or her unprotected.

  "But,” he continued, “you'd better follow up our lead."

  "I will.” She glanced up at Cade. “The blonde who bribed Denny went by the name of Candy Jackson, and she apparently lives over on Summit Street."

  He raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Seems the other blonde goes by the name of Lonny Jackson."

  "Sisters?"

  "Could be.” He glanced past her as the wail of approaching sirens came to a sudden halt and doors slammed. “Except according to records, Lonny doesn't have a sister."

  "Merron doesn't always register half-breeds, or even their get,” Ronan said. “So if she's not full wolf, maybe that explains why there's no record of a sister."

  "What?” Savannah and Cade said together.

  "That's illegal,” she added. “All wolf births have to be registered. The reservation's fined by the government otherwise."

  "Law or not, it happens. Merron's a big reservation and the Government's head counters never see half the people living there.” He paused to cough and winced in pain. When he continued on, his voice was a little hoarser. But he squeezed her hand reassuringly. “The head of the council is crazier than your old man, Sav, and he has a bee in his bonnet about half breeds. If you're not pure, you're not a wolf, so he doesn't believe they should be registered."

  "But even human births have to be registered."

  "He doesn't consider them human, either, but rather an abomination."

  "Oh God, you're not saying he condones infanticide?"

  "Let's just say that those who keep their half-breed are not supported by the council in any way."

  "How do you know this?” Cade asked. “It's certainly not something I've heard, and we've handled several investigations at Merron."

  Ronan's gaze went to Cade. “Friend of mine grew up there.” He looked back at Savannah. “Mikel. Might be worth talking to him."

  "I will.” She looked around as the EMTs approached, then squeezed Ronan's hand and released him.

  "Meeting like this is getting to be a habit,” the first of the two men said cheerfully as he bent to tend to Ronan.

  "One I hope to break.” Her voice was dry as she stepped back to give him more room.

  Cade rose and stood beside her. His arm brushed hers, only lightly, yet little shocks of electricity seemed to run up her arm and tingle down to her fingertips.

  "Steve needs his ass kicked for letting you out,” she said, without looking at him.

  His grin was something she felt deep inside. A warmth that spread like wildfire through every nerve ending and made her hunger. “I threatened to haul his ass to court and charge him with obstruction of justice if he didn't move."

  "Not even the IIS can make a charge like that stick."

  "So he said. I asked him if he wanted to risk it. He apparently didn't."

  She looked at him. “You don't play nice."

  His expression was hard. “I'm not paid to play nice."

  "And do you not play nice on all your missions? Or are there some that tempt you to do more than you should? Want more than you should?” She raised her eyebrows, silently challenging him to answer honestly.

  He studied her long enough to make her think he wasn't going to answer. Then he smiled with regret, and said, “There was one that became more than a job."

  "How much more?"

  He shrugged and looked away. “It doesn't really matter."

  "It does to me."

  "Ronan's loaded into the ambulance. We'd better get moving.” He walked away from her, heading away from the truck. She grabbed his arm and tugged him in the right direction. “I'm driving. Why won't you answer the question?"

  "Why did you run from Rosehall?"

  "I've already told you. I was afraid.” She unlocked the truck and opened the door for him. He climbed in awkwardly, wincing a little and grabbing at his injured leg.

  "If that starts bleeding,” she added, “you're going straight back to hospital."

  "Not before we catch this killer.” As she climbed into the driver's side and started the engine, he added, “If you did really love me, you would have stayed."

  She swung into the traffic and headed towards Summit Street. “Let's try a little reverse psychology. Let's say you were eighteen and just beginning to explore the boundaries of your sexuality. You fall for a much older woman—"

  "Six years is not that much older."

  "When you're eighteen, twenty-four is almost a quarter of a century and that's old.” She grinned, but it faded quickly. “You thought you loved that woman, but then she turned around and did something your upbringing tells you is abhorrent. You're left thinking there's no way she could have done that if she'd felt even the tiniest bit of caring.” She glanced at him. “Would you have stayed, or would you have run?"

  His gaze raked her, but his expression gave little away. She was tempted, so very tempted, to just ease into his mind and uncover his thoughts, but that was something she'd sworn never to do, not without good cause, anyway. And no matter how badly she might want to know what he was thinking, he had the right to his privacy.

  Something those at that academy of his never thought to mention.

  "If I have to answer honestly, then I don't know. I'm not you, Vannah. I will never react to a situation the same way you would."

  "So you've never been in love?"

  "No. And I don't believe you were, either. I read your thoughts, remember. Or raided them, as you keep insisting."

  "You read some of my thoughts,” she refuted softly.
“The shields of a wolf from the golden pack work in interwoven layers rather than the straight levels of power that you have. It works better, simply because it is harder to break through.” She glanced at him. “You have only three levels. I have nearly eight."

  Incredulity briefly touched his eyes. “Why would any telepath need so many?"

  "You try living in a pack that's totally telepathic. It's a requirement, believe me."

  "I thought your pack didn't believe in raiding another's mind."

  "We don't. But that doesn't mean it doesn't happen.” She hesitated, and then said, “Was Rosehall the job that became more?"

  "You know it is."

  "If I knew, I wouldn't be asking. You gave me nothing, Cade. Well, nothing except great sex."

  "I gave you three days."

  She frowned. “What do you mean?"

  He blew out a breath. “I had a job to do and a time in which to do it. I missed that deadline by three days, simply because I was afraid of the consequences. And because of that, another person died."

  As the lights ahead changed from green to red, she slowed and shot him a glance. “You can't be held responsible for that."

  "If I'd done what I was there to do, when I was supposed to do it, that person might not have died."

  "And you might not have caught Jontee if you'd gone after him earlier."

  He shrugged. She frowned at him and asked, “What other consequences were you talking about?"

  "Jeopardizing the first piece of happiness I'd found in a long, long time.” His gaze held hers, seeming to burn right through her, until it felt as if he were reaching into her very soul. “You were more than a job to me, Savannah."

  She licked her lips, her throat dry and her heart pounding unsteadily. Not from fear, not from excitement, but rather, an uneven mix of the two. Because what he was admitting wasn't a guarantee of a future, nor was it an admission that he cared now. But he had cared, even if only a little, and for now, that was a very good place for hope to start.

  "And yet you still invaded my mind."

  He nodded, his gaze still intent, still burning deep, as if he were trying to make her see past his words, and make her believe. Believe what was the question. And one she wasn't sure she should ask. Not yet. Not until they'd cleared the air.

  "Thirteen people had already died. In the end, duty had to take precedence over my own desires.” He hesitated. “I never meant to hurt you—not emotionally, and not psychically—and I'm sorry if I did."

  Something inside her melted. “So why didn't you just ask?"

  A car beeped behind them, and she glanced ahead to see the red light had changed to green. She drove on.

  "Because of Nelle,” he said. “And your relationship with her."

  "Nelle was my friend."

  "Your friend probably gave you away last night at the club."

  She shook her head. “It doesn't make any sense. If Nelle was in town, she'd contact me."

  "Not if she thinks you were partially responsible for Rosehall's downfall."

  She shot another glance his way. “Nelle is not behind the murders."

  "Which murders are we talking about? Rosehall's or these?"

  "Both. Besides, she hated the taste of blood."

  "And you know this because she told you?"

  She hesitated. “No. I witnessed it. She cut herself once and wouldn't suck the wound to clean it. Said it was unclean."

  "Unclean?"

  She shrugged. “That's what she said. Of course, there was a fair bit of dirt in the wound."

  He was silent for a moment. “So why did you warn her about the task force raid later that night?"

  "Why do you think I warned her?"

  He snorted softly. “You were the only other person besides me who knew about that raid. Why else would she have run?"

  "If you were so afraid of my relationship with Nelle, why tell me in the first place?"

  He hesitated. “Because I didn't want you caught in the net. I owed you that, if nothing else."

  Something inside her did a little happy dance. He'd gone against all the rules to let her walk away. That one action spoke far louder than words. If only she'd had the sense to realize it at the time, her life might have turned out a whole lot differently.

  "Why did you warn Nelle?” he repeated softly

  She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Nelle came into my room not long after you'd left.” She hesitated, her thoughts drifting back. “I was packing to leave, and I was so hurt, so angry. She asked me what was wrong and I told her. It just all came pouring out."

  "So you both decided to leave?"

  "I left. I wasn't really sure at the time what Nelle planned to do. She did say she had things to finish."

  He flashed her a frown. “What things? She was just another of Jontee's women, wasn't she?"

  She shook her head. “She never slept with him. She was more a mother figure, and she handled the day-to-day running of the place. Jontee was never in the real world long enough to manage that."

  "And yet you were quite happy sharing a dance with this fruit loop?” he asked, voice edgy.

  She looked at him. Though his expression was flat, his navy eyes seemed to burn with a deep down fire.

  "He was an amazing man,” she said, “a gentle man, a man who wasn't always there mentally, but still a very good lover."

  "He was a murderer."

  "Yes, but I didn't know that at the time. Only later.” And those murders were the only reason Cade was at Rosehall, the reason they'd met. Whatever else happened between them, she couldn't be sorry about that, even if it had taken her entirely too long to remember it.

  "But you loved him."

  "I've already said I didn't."

  "Yet, you did love me?"

  His disbelieving tone made her look at him again. “Look, I'm not denying my actions at the time gave lie to my words. Or that they were right. But at least try to understand where I was coming from at the time—I was eighteen, and I had left a very strict upbringing to find myself and explore my sexuality. I didn't want, or expect, to find love, and it scared the hell out of me."

  He scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “If you love someone, you're faithful to them. It's as simple as that."

  "Love is never simple. It's different for every single person who lives on this planet. And you've no right to judge my actions until you've actually felt love yourself."

  He didn't answer, and that made her even angrier. She turned onto Summit Street and slowed. In the driveway of the house four doors down from the burned wreck of Lana Lee's old house, was a blue truck.

  "Well, well,” she said softly. “Look what we've found."

  "No proof it's the same truck. Pull over."

  She pulled in behind an old ford wagon and stopped. The curtains covering the windows in the house moved slightly. “We've been made."

  "She'll run."

  "Maybe not. After all, she must have been pretty sure that she wouldn't get recognized if she tried to run Ronan over in broad daylight.” She glanced at him. “Did you get the plate number?"

  "Same false plate as last night."

  "Which she'll have no doubt removed by now."

  "Undoubtedly."

  She leaned her forearms on the steering wheel as she studied the house. “How do you want to play this?"

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic covered photo. “Go to a few houses and ask if they know this woman. Then go ask her. But before you show it to her, take it out of the plastic."

  "I doubt whether she'd be dumb enough to touch it.” She glanced at the picture. It could have been Candy's sister—the only difference was smaller, meaner eyes. “And in the meantime, you'll be doing what, precisely?"

  "Coming in from behind."

  "On one leg? I don't think that's wise."

  "A wolf has four legs, which gives me three to walk on.” He raised a hand, and gently cupped her cheek. “That woman just tried to kil
l Ronan. You're not going to go anywhere near her alone."

  "You sound as if you care."

  "Maybe I do."

  She raised an eyebrow and said teasingly, “You sure it's not the moon promise?"

  His dark gaze rested on hers, and something inside her simply wanted to sigh. But all he said was, “It might be."

  It wasn't the declaration she'd been half hoping for—though why she hoped, she had no idea. He obviously wasn't a man who verbalized emotion, except when it came to anger. But it wasn't an outright denial, either, and right now, she was happy with that. She kissed his palm, then opened the door and got out. A cool wind stirred her hair and sent a chill racing down her spine. She glanced at the sky. Dark clouds were racing towards them, and part of her hoped it wasn't an omen of things to come. Thrusting the thought away, she zipped up her jacket and walked over to the nearest house. It just happened to be Rex's house.

  "Morning, Ranger,” he said, his eagle-like gaze flicking past her briefly. “Looks like there's a hell of a storm coming. What can I do for you?"

  She held out the photo. “Have you seen this woman?"

  "Candy Jackson? Sure, she lives down the street, in seven—” He paused. “That's not Candy."

  "No, it's not. So, you haven't seen this woman around?"

  "Well, hard to say, because this woman and Candy sure look alike. Be hard to pick them from a distance."

  Or if you'd had bad sight, like Lana did. Goose bumps ran over her skin, and in that moment she knew who had set the fires that had killed Lana. But knowing it was one thing. Proving it another.

  "Did Candy ever visit Lana?"

  "Yeah, twice a week. She used to clean up for the old girl—do her housework and the like. Lana said it was easier to pay someone than to do it herself."

  "I'd heard the old girl was a bit tightfisted."

  "Oh, she was, but over odd things. She liked a clean house, so when she couldn't do it herself, she paid someone.” He handed her back the photo. “Candy was there the day of the fire, cleaning up."

  Savannah raised her eyebrows. “What time?"

  He shrugged. “Wasn't really looking at the clock. But it was after lunch."

  Interesting. She wondered what Manny and the fire marshal had made of this information—and if they'd interviewed Candy. “How long has she been living here?"