Edge of Night

by Ramona Gray

  Wes stared out the window as Eleanor drove toward Rose Valley. Like usual, he was sitting in the back seat. Eleanor had mentioned more than once that he was welcome to sit in the front with her, but he’d never taken her up on the offer.

  It was safer to sit in the back seat. From the back seat, he couldn’t do something stupid like rest his hand on Eleanor’s smooth thigh. Couldn’t lean over and nuzzle her silky hair, maybe lick a line from the bottom of her slender throat up to her earlobe.

  His nostrils flared and he stared grimly at his lap, willing his goddamn erection to go away. Why the fuck did he torture himself like this? There were a dozen reasons why he couldn’t sleep with Eleanor, least of all the fact that he was probably old enough to be her goddamn father. His lust for her was inappropriate and if Eleanor could read his thoughts about her, she’d be disgusted.

  Bullshit, his inner voice said. She wants you. Don’t try and pretend she doesn’t. You can smell her lust for you.

  The pressure of his erect dick turned painful. Eleanor lusting after him was both exhilarating and terrifying. It was also dangerous. It eroded his already badly weakened resolve not to seduce her.

  Fuck. He needed to find a new driver. One who didn’t smell like strawberries or have high firm tits that would fit perfectly in his hands.

  His lion purred loudly at the thought of touching Eleanor’s tits but didn’t say anything. Not unusual. His lion rarely spoke to him before the accident and it had practically turned into a damn mute since the accident. The landscape outside the window flew by in a blur – Eleanor was a fast driver – but he didn’t really see it.

  Four years. That’s how long it’d been since he’d lost focus for a crucial ten seconds and a man died as the result. That old and familiar guilt rolled through him. His erection was gone, and nausea churned through his stomach.

  His lion had retreated so far inward that Wes could barely feel their connection.

  It’s all right, Wes said. It wasn’t your fault.

  His lion didn’t respond. Wes could feel him curling up into a tight ball, barricading himself against Wes’s comfort. The beast shouldered the same feelings of guilt that Wes did and refused to accept any type of solace over it.

  “You okay?”

  Eleanor was staring at him in the rear-view mirror. Part of him wanted to tell her to keep her eyes on the road, but the thought that it would make him sound even more like a father made him cringe.

  “You look like you’re going to throw up,” Eleanor said.

  “Maybe it’s the way you take corners,” he said.

  She wrinkled her nose at him but didn’t laugh like he hoped she would. He fucking loved her laugh.

  “Seriously, though, are you feeling okay?”

  “Are you okay?” he said. Partly to avoid the question, but also because she hadn’t been filling the interior of the car with her usual chatter.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  “You’re not.”

  She slowed to a stop at a light and twisted in the seat to stare at him. “Shit, can you smell that I’m lying? Is that a thing that shifters can do? Oh my God, that’s so cool. If I could smell a liar than maybe that asshole last night wouldn’t have -”

  She stopped abruptly, her face turning pink. A tidal wave of jealousy crashed over him and his lion uncurled and sat up. It made a low growl as Eleanor turned away and gripped the steering wheel.

  He couldn’t smell that she was lying, but he’d spent enough time with her, had obsessed enough over her, that he could read all of her moods as easily as he could read his own. “What did he do?”

  He could smell her surprise. Hell, he was surprised too. He’d been using Eleanor as a driver for over a year and never once made any attempt at personal talk. It was too… dangerous.

  The light turned green and Eleanor stepped on the gas. The car zoomed forward, his stomach lurching a little at the speed, and she darted in and out of lanes until she found one that was relatively clear.

  He wouldn’t ask her again, he told himself. It wasn’t any of his business, and besides, he didn’t care if Eleanor was dating someone. She should be dating. She was young and gorgeous and –

  “He ditched me at the restaurant,” Eleanor said suddenly. “He said he needed to use the restroom and then he never came back. Who even does that nowadays? Like, holy shit, guy, if you aren’t having a good time, either man up and tell me, or do what normal people do and have a friend send you a fake ‘I need you’ text.”

  She turned left and then glanced at him. “Have you ever ditched a woman at a restaurant?”

  “No,” he said.

  “Of course you haven’t,” she said. “I don’t even know why I asked. You’re a gentleman and you have some damn manners. Why are guys my age such,” she waved her hand in a vague circle, “immature idiots?”

  He didn’t reply. She didn’t look surprised by his lack of response. He supposed after over a year of driving him, she was used to his silence.

  “Anyway, I’m feeling sorry for myself because I thought the date was going well. But,” she took the exit for Rose Valley, “I’m pretty sure I talked too much because I always talk too much. My friend, Janelle, says I need to talk less when I first meet a guy. She says I’d have better luck if I kept my mouth shut for more than thirty seconds. But I figure they might as well see the real me right away. You know? If they don’t like how much I talk when they first meet me, then we know the relationship is never gonna work out, right?”

  “Right,” he said.

  The robotic voice of her GPS told her to take her next right and Eleanor switched lanes, flicking on her turn signal. “Janelle says it makes me look selfish. Like all I want to do is talk about myself. She makes a good point. People who talk a lot do come across as self-involved. I went on the date last night determined to talk less and I tried, but the guy was so freaking dull. He wasn’t saying much, and it started to feel awkward as shit, so I did what I do best. I talked.”

  The GPS announced the destination was ahead on the left. Eleanor pulled into an empty spot on the quiet street between a red SUV and a silver Corolla and put the car into park. She killed the engine as Wes studied the street.

  It was lined with apartment buildings, with a small park with playground equipment at the end of the street. The setting sun and the chill in the air meant the park was empty. Two men were walking down the street and Wes eyed them carefully. Neither was Xander, and he relaxed against the seat as Eleanor squinted out the window.

  “I don’t see any bars or pubs,” she said. “Are you visiting a friend who lives here?”

  “I’m on the job,” Wes said.

  “Oh.” Eleanor waited a few minutes before saying, “So… you said you would need me until midnight.”

  “Yes.”

  She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. “And the job requires you to sit in my car?”

  He nodded and stared at the apartment building across the street. A couple was stepping out of the building into the growing darkness. He took a closer look at the man before leaning back again.

  “Oh my God.” He could smell Eleanor’s excitement as she turned to face him. “You’re on a stakeout!”

  “I’m a security consultant, not a police officer,” he said.

  “Yeah, but you’re on a stakeout. Admit it.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  She clapped her hands and unclicked her seatbelt. “Holy shit, this is so friggin’ cool.”

  He didn’t say anything, and she scanned the street. “Who are we looking for? Give me a description.”

  “We’re not looking for anyone,” he said.

  “Oh, c’mon,” she said. “You can’t expect me to just sit here and not help. I’ll be bored silly.”

  “I told you to bring a book,” he said.

  “I did.” She picked up a book from the front seat and showed it to him before letting it drop onto the seat again. “But this is way cooler. C’mon, Wes, let me he
lp.”

  He couldn’t resist her enthusiasm and it would be helpful to have another set of eyes looking for Xander. He unlocked his phone and found the picture of Xander before handing his phone to her. Their fingers brushed and his lion purred. Wes couldn’t blame him. His heart was thumping, and heat was building in his groin from just that brief touch.

  She studied the picture carefully. He ignored the urge to reach out and sweep back the lock of dark hair that had escaped the clip and was brushing against her cheek.

  “He’s thinner now. Also, he’s grown a beard and dyed his hair dark brown,” Wes said.

  “Okay.” She took another look at the picture before handing his phone back to him. “Is he dangerous?”

  “He could be.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He’s stalking a young girl. Believes she is his mate even though she’s only sixteen and he’s twenty-two.”

  “Gross,” Eleanor said. “So, he’s a shifter?”

  “Yes. A cheetah shifter.” He hesitated. “Most male shifters do not prey on young girls. We understand what is appropriate and don’t want a child for a mate.”

  “Oh, I know,” she said. “He’s a sicko but that doesn’t mean all shifters are. I mean, I don’t know a lot of shifters, but the ones I’ve met all have age appropriate partners. Like, I know you probably wouldn’t even consider dating someone in their twenties. Would you?”

  Her cheeks were pink, and he could smell the nervous energy drifting from her soft skin.

  “I wouldn’t,” he said.

  Now he could smell her disappointment, but she nodded and smiled at him. “Right. Okay, well, I’ll take the left side of the street if you want to take the right. Sound good?”

  “Sure,” he said.

  She turned and settled in her seat, her gaze on the street, as silence descended. He’d upset her, he didn’t need to have a shifter’s sense of smell to know that, but it was better for both of them if she thought he would never be interested in her.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “In television, they make stakeouts seem much more exciting than they actually are,” Eleanor said. She stretched before moving her neck from side to side. She’d put her hair up in a messy bun about half an hour ago and Wes studied the nape of her neck. She had a vertical line of small daisy tattoos starting at her hairline that disappeared beneath the collar of her shirt. He wondered, not for the first time, how far down that line of daisies went. What he wouldn’t fucking give to find out.

  He looked away before he got another erection. For the last couple of hours he’d managed to do his fucking job and concentrate on looking for Xander rather than picturing Eleanor naked and in his bed. But his blood sugar level was getting low and his lion was restless, and Eleanor was a distraction he was finding more and more difficult to ignore.

  “I’ve been trying really hard not to talk your ear off,” Eleanor said, “but it’s a herculean effort for me. How do private detectives and cops not die of sheer boredom?”

  She glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. He shrugged and looked out the window. The street was empty, and he tried to concentrate on studying the doors of each apartment building rather than wondering if Eleanor’s nipples were the same shade of pink as her lips.

  “I’m starving. I should have eaten dinner. Did you eat dinner?” Eleanor turned in her seat to face him.

  “No,” he said. He’d had Eleanor pick him up at work and he’d meant to grab something from the café down the street beforehand but ran out of time. Something his growling stomach was complaining about now.

  “I’d give my left boob for a piece of beef jerky right about now,” Eleanor said. Her face brightened. “Hold on.”

  She leaned across the seat and popped the glovebox open, rummaging around until she squealed in happiness. She sat up, a look of glee on her face and a granola bar in her hand. “Well, it’s not beef jerky, but it’ll stop us from passing out, right?”

  She ripped open the packaging and carefully broke the bar in two before holding out one half to him.

  “I’m good,” he said.

  She cocked her head at him. “I heard your stomach growling, Wes. Take it.”

  He took it. She smiled happily and bit into her own half as he bit off a piece of his.

  “Oh Jesus,” she said, “this is terrible.”

  He swallowed the bite he’d taken with difficulty as Eleanor chewed ferociously before swallowing. “My God, I’ve never had anything this hard in my mouth before.”

  “That’s what she said,” Wes said.

  Eleanor stared at him before laughing. “Did you just make a joke?”

  His lion purred to her and Wes swallowed down the sound. Which wasn’t so easy when there was a chunk of stale granola bar stuck in his throat.

  As if she’d read his mind, Eleanor produced a water bottle from the knapsack that was her purse and held it out. “I’ve only got one water left, but we can share, right?”

  He opened the bottle and took a drink. He handed it back to her and she drank before wiping her mouth. “Daisy told me you were a lion shifter.”

  He looked out the window again. “I am.”

  “That’s cool. I figured you were a lion or tiger because you’re so big. It’s kind of weird that you have dark hair though, right?”

  “Why is it weird?” He scanned a man who stepped out of an apartment building in front of the car, but he was a redhead and too short to be Xander.

  “Well, because lions have gold fur and green eyes, so you’d think you would have blond hair and green eyes. Like your boss. He has blond hair. Although his eyes are blue… hey, when he’s in his lion form, do they stay blue?”

  “Lions don’t have green eyes. When did you see Cooper?” The only green on his lion was its sudden jealousy.

  “A couple weeks back. I was having dinner with Daisy and he was at the pub too. So, why aren’t you blond?”

  He took a quick look at her, but she’d turned back around and was studying her side of the street diligently. “Our shifter side is not responsible for our hair and eye colour. They’re determined by our human genes.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. “I prefer dark hair anyway.”

  He didn’t say anything, but his lion purred happily, and he couldn’t help but feel a little pleased himself. Which was stupid because nothing could happen between him and Eleanor.

  “What, uh, do you prefer for hair colour?” Eleanor said.

  He could smell her arousal for him again and hating himself, he said, “Blonde. I like tall blondes with blue eyes.”

  Her lust dropped away like it’d taken a swan dive off a cliff. He had the immediate urge to take back what he said, to confess his lie just so he could smell her need for him again. Instead, he clenched his jaw and stared out the window.

  “Yeah,” Eleanor said. “Most guys prefer the blondes over us brunettes. I dated a guy who asked me to wear a blonde wig when we were…”

  She cleared her throat. “Anyway, it was kind of fun the first couple of times but by the sixth time, I was starting to get suspicious that he was pretending I was someone else.”

  She laughed but it had a ragged hurt note to it that made his lion purr to her again. “Of course, he was banging a blonde woman on the side, so… you know, suspicion confirmed.”

  He wanted to kill the guy. He wanted to hunt him down and tear his throat out for making Eleanor feel less than the perfect dark haired, dark eyed beauty she was.

  “Did you love him?” He really needed to knock it off with the personal questions.

  She shook her head. “No. I cared for him a lot, but it wasn’t love. Which made it easier to burn all the shit he left at my place. Pro tip – don’t try and burn a cheap synthetic wig. Your apartment will stink like burnt plastic for days and your landlord will be suuuper pissed at you.”

  He laughed, and her arousal for him filled the interior of the car a
gain.

  “Oh my God, you laughed. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before. You have a great laugh.” The look on her face was one of pure delight.

  “Thanks.” He stared out the window, reminding himself that he was here to do a job, not make small talk with Eleanor. It was better if he didn’t know anything about her. Better if he –

  “Wes? I think I see him.”

  He was immediately on high alert. He stared in the direction that Eleanor was pointing. There was a man walking toward a large brick apartment building on the other side of the street. Wes opened his door a crack and sniffed the air. The faint scent of cheetah drifted to him and his lion snarled with satisfaction. It was Xander. He’d shaved his beard into a goatee, but it was him.

  “Stay here,” he said to Eleanor. “I’ll be right back.”

  He stepped out of the car and closed the door. He waited until Xander was walking on the sidewalk leading up to the building before he crossed the street. When Xander stepped inside the building, Wes jogged toward it.

  Xander knew what he looked like which meant Wes needed to be careful that he didn’t see him and take off. But he wanted an apartment number so they could tell the cops exactly where the asshole was.

  He looked through the glass door of the building. Xander opened the door marked ‘stairs’ and started up the stairs. Wes tried the front door, not surprised that it was locked.

  He smelled Eleanor’s scent a couple of seconds before she said, “What’s the plan here?”

  “The plan was for you to stay in the car,” he said.

  “You might need my help.”

  “I don’t need… is that a knife?” He stared at the small pocketknife she was holding in her right hand. The blade was only a few inches long and looked about as dangerous as a plastic spoon.

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you have a knife?”

  “For protection,” she said. “I’m a woman who drives strangers around for a living. I’m gonna carry a knife.”

  “That’s not going to do shit,” he said. “You should carry mace or bear spray.”