by Kathy Lyon
“And that doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice tight with anger. “Do you want to stop the Detroit Flu or not?”
That was an easy answer. “I do.”
“So, arrest Raoul.”
“On what grounds?”
“I don’t care. Make something up. Whatever it takes, just get him off the streets for a few days.”
He arched his brow. “And then what?”
“And then I’ll get the proof you need to lock him up forever. He’s the cause of the Detroit Flu. I swear it.” Then when he didn’t say anything, she pushed it further. “That’s why I was in the sewer. I was getting proof, but then you got shot and I had to save your ass.”
He stared at her, fury boiling up. Detroit was in crisis. There had been at least a dozen deaths, a ton more injuries, and the National Guard surrounded the city to keep it in quarantine. The entire city had been brought to its knees by this poison. And why? For a fucking wolf power play.
He didn’t know if Raoul had indeed poisoned the city or if it had been werewolves working in concert. Didn’t matter. As far as he was concerned, the whole pack was responsible. That’s how shifters worked. The pack took responsibility for every member’s actions. And that Frankie here would use a citywide crisis to make a play for power within the werewolf ranks made him sick to his stomach.
But that was wolves for you. The Borgias had nothing on the machinations inside a werewolf pack. He straightened to his full height. At least the dizziness was over. He felt stronger now.
“Sure, I’ll help you. Tell me where Raoul is.” It wasn’t a lie. He absolutely intended to arrest Raoul, her, and any other werewolf he could charge.
She grimaced. “I don’t know.”
Of course not. “Get me a phone. I’ll call it in anyway.”
She blew out her breath. “You need to do it. He’s a werewolf. He’s too dangerous for normal people.”
Plus, over half the force was out puking up their guts from the Detroit Flu. “I’m hardly in a fit state here.” He sagged against the wall for effect, then realized that he really did appreciate the extra support.
She winced. “That’s why I brought you here. So you can rest in privacy. I need to explain things to you. And you need to tell the Griz not to go to war yet.” She sighed. “And not get caught alone. The wolves are going to attack you.”
That was a lot of information coming at him fast, but he got the gist of it, especially since he remembered hearing some of it when they were in the sewer. “We already know you’re responsible,” he said. “And we figured any pack insane enough to poison a city was going to be crazy enough to attack the Griz for exposing you.” He paused. “So get me a damned phone and I’ll take care of Raoul for you.” What he was going to do was get the Griz to come take this woman and this house by force. And then, when he wasn’t dead on his feet, he could arrest the whole pack for their idiocy and watch them get prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
“Ah hell,” the older woman interrupted. She’d been hanging back, letting him and Frankie have their say, but now she was looking through a crack in the heavy curtains beside the front door. “It’s too late. We got wolves already here.”
Frankie jolted. “What? Who?”
“Like I know one dog from the other? I just know that walk and that car.”
Frankie quickly peered through another break in the curtains. “That’s Delphine, Raoul’s woman, and she’s come to bring you in.” Her expression turned anguished. “Hazel, you have to get out of here. They know you’re my friend. They know—”
“They know jack shit. Now get him upstairs. I’ll deal with Miss Fancy Pants.”
Chapter 6
Frankie grabbed Detective Huge Disappointment and started dragging him upstairs whether he wanted to go or not. The last thing she needed was for Hazel to be caught harboring a naked grizzly bear. And damn it, Delphine was likely to kill the guy on sight—or at least try to—and then Frankie would be forced to defend him, and the shit would really hit the fan.
She drew on her hybrid strength to haul him upstairs. She didn’t go ugly-faced to do it, but it took all her focus to keep her abilities under control. Didn’t the man have an ounce of fat? No, the guy was all muscle, which was lovely to look at but he weighed a ton. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, they were both panting. But then she looked at his face.
Oh hell. He wasn’t being stubborn. The guy really was holding on by a thread. His face was pale, and his breath came in sketchy pants. But the real tip off was that he felt unnaturally cold. That was a telltale sign of a shifter who’d burned through way too much of his energy. He didn’t have the strength to heat his own body. “Just how often have you been shifting lately?” Not to mention that brutal fight with Jayce and getting shot a couple times. It was a wonder the guy was standing at all.
He didn’t answer, not that she expected him to. There was no way they could get to the attic now. She’d just have to pray that the second floor was hidden enough. So she maneuvered him into the nearest bedroom, recently vacated by an abused mother and her three kids. She and Hazel had managed to get the family out before the quarantine, thank God, so that left the large bed and two cots conveniently empty.
She helped him sit on the nearest cot, then took a moment to check his pulse and study his gorgeous blue eyes. Well, those were still pretty, and at the moment they were focused on her face. How could a guy on the verge of passing out have eyes that seemed crystal bright?
“I’m trying to help,” she said as the doorbell rang.
“Then get me a phone.”
Her cell was downstairs. She’d taken it off to spar with Hazel, and now she was up here without any way to call for help. “It’s a delicate situation. I want us to work together.”
He arched a brow. He looked like Spock in a very sexy Vulcan moment. Which was when she was forced to see the logic of the situation.
She’d wanted to manage this carefully so as to get the fewest number of people killed. But maybe that was walking too fine a line. And bears were not known for their finesse, though she’d hoped Detective Kennedy was different.
“Fine,” she finally said. “Right after Delphine leaves, okay? But you have to listen to the full story.”
He nodded, though it might have been because he was too weak to keep his head upright. The doorbell rang again, and she heard Hazel respond like the old woman she definitely was not.
“I’m coming! Geez, my knees don’t work so well anymore, you know?”
That was total bullshit. Hazel’s knees worked fine, even though she’d just celebrated her sixtieth birthday. She was giving Frankie time to hide the detective. Plus, she probably enjoyed making Delphine wait. Frankie liked it, too, since she knew Delphine was a two-faced, backstabbing bitch.
The doorbell rang a third time and Hazel started undoing the locks. Every click sounded loud to Frankie’s enhanced hearing while she maneuvered herself to see everything that went on downstairs. Hazel had set up a large mirror in the hallway, angled just right so someone in the bedroom could watch while still hidden behind carefully placed furniture. She saw clearly when Hazel opened the door to confront Delphine. The woman’s expression was vaguely bored as she stood there dripping with costume jewelry and wearing skintight leggings and a loose blouse that accentuated her curves. It had one more advantage, too. Clothing that stretched or ripped told everyone she could go wolf anytime. Sure, the witch had shifted only once during her teens, but that put her well ahead of Frankie who—until recently—hadn’t done anything more than stand there and look stupid.
“Yes?” Hazel asked, her voice weaker than usual.
“You’re Hazel Smith, right?” Delphine asked. Then she continued without waiting for an answer. “You’re supposed to come to the community center. And where’s Frankie? She needs to hightail it there, too.”
Frankie’s body tensed. Her compulsion to be seen was pushing her to boldly confront Delphine and tell the bitc
h what she thought. But that was stupid, especially if Hazel could handle things herself. Still, the need was like a physical itch under her skin.
“We’re supposed to stay inside,” Hazel said. “There’s a quarantine on. Don’t you listen to the news?”
Delphine pursed her perfect lips. “Of course, I listen to the news.”
Frankie rolled her eyes. “Not unless The Real Housewives counts.”
“That’s why you’re supposed to come to the center. So we can protect you.”
“I can protect myself,” Hazel said, as she tried to close the door.
Delphine was faster than that. She caught the closing door with the flat of her hand and held it open. The woman may have shifted only once, but she had a shifter’s strength. Hazel wasn’t going to win that fight.
“You’re a valued part of our community,” Delphine said, her voice so bored, she sounded like she was reading off a cue card.
“I’m sure I am,” Hazel snorted. “Thanks, but—”
“You’re coming, Hazel. No argument.” Her expression didn’t change, but her tone was chilling. “Now go get Frankie. I’ve wasted enough time on that girl’s silliness.” She made it sound like she was waiting on a petulant child.
Frankie muttered under her breath, “We’re the same fucking age, bitch.”
The detective chuckled, his voice equally low. “You kiss your mama with that mouth?”
She shot him a glare, but he just raised that sexy eyebrow. Damn Hazel for making her watch Star Trek reruns. That expression totally worked for her. Meanwhile, Hazel was standing her ground.
“Frankie left to make the rounds of the Galster apartment building. Most folks there are pretty sick. She’s helping out.”
“Bullshit. She’s here. I can smell her.”
Hazel nodded. “She was here, then she left. Check with Noelle, apartment 6E. Those twins are tag-teaming the vomit.”
Delphine’s response was to sniff in disdain as she stomped inside the house. Hazel could have stopped her, but she was playing weakling right now. She always said to pick your fights carefully. Apparently, she wasn’t ready for a showdown with Delphine.
“Why does it smell like a sewer in here?” Delphine asked.
“Probably because Frankie’s been helping out with the sick kids.”
Detective Kennedy’s voice rumbled in her ear. “Or crawling through the sewer.”
His voice sent shivers down her spine. Something about the note of humor in his gravelly voice was really sexy. In an annoying kind of way. “And helping out with the kids,” she said in a low whisper. Last thing she wanted was for Delphine’s shifter ears to hear her. But it was hard enough to stay hidden upstairs, she couldn’t keep silent when Kennedy pushed her. “Do you know how many times I’ve been thrown up on lately?”
He wavered where he sat on the cot. Damn, he was really in a bad way. There was perspiration on his upper lip, and she reached out to steady him. Meanwhile, Delphine was sniffing her way deeper into the house.
“Who else is here with you?”
“No one now,” Hazel said. “I’m still cleaning upstairs. Norma puked up an entire pizza. I sent her home yesterday, but it’s hard on my knees to climb up there.” She grabbed hold of Delphine’s arm. “You’d do me a kindness if you’d help me clean it up. I got a bucket and mop in the closet. I just got too tired, you know?”
The detective shifted uncomfortably on the cot. Probably preparing to fight if Delphine came upstairs.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “Delphine’s got an uber-sensitive nose. She won’t come within a hundred miles of vomit if she can help it.” It probably helped that neither of them smelled fresh. She’d cleaned up after putting Kennedy in the closet, but Delphine’s nose was really sharp.
Sure enough, the woman turned her perfectly sloped nose toward the stairs and immediately looked away. “No thanks,” she huffed. “Look, just call her, will you? Her brother’s worried about her.”
Not true. The only brother who ever worried about her was dead under suspicious circumstances. That was two years ago, and soon afterward, Frankie had learned to make herself scarce.
“You want Frankie, you go get her.” Hazel gestured down the street. “It’s just a couple blocks away.”
“Call her.”
Hazel folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not the one who needs to talk to her.” That, plus, Frankie’s phone was downstairs. Leaving it there had been a major mistake.
Delphine sniffed again. “Why does everyone have to be so difficult?” She pulled out her cell phone and stabbed at it with a blood red nail. Eventually, she put it to her ear. “She’s at the Galster Street property. Apartment 6E. Go get her.”
Frankie winced. Noelle would not thank her if Delphine’s goons woke the twins. Meanwhile, Delphine gestured to the front door. “Come on, Hazel. Get in the car. I’ll drive you.”
“I’m staying right here.”
Frankie felt her hackles rise at Hazel’s tone of voice. She’d lost the quavering old lady act and had shifted into bring-it mode. She was obviously tired of the supercilious bitch and was ready to kick ass. And not being stupid, Delphine recognized the change in attitude.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Delphine said. “Raoul wants to talk to you.” She made an attempt at charming with a pretty smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Look, this really is for your own safety. We consider you one of us, so we protect you. But we can’t patrol blocks and blocks of territory. It’s too dangerous for both you and our men. Much better for everyone if you come with me, okay?”
“I don’t know…” Hazel blew out a breath as if she were considering it.
Frankie wasn’t fooled, but Delphine was. She was just rolling her eyes when Hazel shoved her hard. The door was open, so Delphine went stumbling backward in her designer sandals. Not bad enough to fall, but enough to get her past the threshold and onto the concrete steps. Then Hazel grabbed hold of the door and slammed it shut.
Or she tried to. Hazel was fast, but apparently, Delphine was faster. She blocked the door with one hand. She didn’t have the strength to send Hazel flying, but the door sure as hell didn’t slam shut. Frankie tensed, raising up onto her feet. She could be down there in a shot, but Hazel bellowed straight into Delphine’s face.
“Stay back!”
The message appeared to be for Delphine, but Frankie knew it was meant for her. Hazel didn’t want her running to the rescue. And given that the older woman was a master in Aikido, not to mention a few other martial arts, Hazel probably had it under control. Still, her muscles twitched with the need to confront Delphine. Detective Kennedy, too, apparently, because he was already on his feet.
“Stop,” she hissed right in his face, the words as much for herself as him. “She can handle herself.”
His eyes blazed into hers, but she completely blocked his path. If he wanted to go downstairs, it would have to be through her. And then they heard a thump on the stairs, hard enough to rattle the floor where they stood.
As one, they turned to see what was going on, and Frankie couldn’t resist an inner grin. Delphine lay sprawled on her side on the stairs. Her blouse was untucked, and her eyes were wide with surprise. Hell, even her makeup was visibly smudged.
Frankie could guess what had happened. Hazel had abruptly released the door. Given the pressure Delphine was putting on it, she must have flown forward, tripped over Hazel’s perfectly placed foot, and landed on the stairs.
“I said, no,” Hazel said calmly. Then she adjusted her position so she was framed in the open doorway. Frankie knew what was going to happen next. In a fit of pique, Delphine was going to surge forward to grab Hazel by the throat. Hazel would duck at the last second, and Delphine would be out on her ass. Door slam, bolts thrown, then Hazel would threaten to call the cops. It wasn’t much of a threat since the cops were overloaded, but no way would Delphine go to more drastic methods to take Hazel. She’d stomp away to fix her makeup in the car.
&
nbsp; No problem.
Frankie even relaxed, anticipating the show.
She saw Delphine’s body tense while Hazel’s grew calm and centered. And then—
Oh shit.
Delphine shifted. Where one second there had been a prissy bitch sprawled on the stairs, now there was a golden-brown wolf in a loose blouse and leggings flying at Hazel’s throat.
Hazel dodged, mostly because she’d been prepared, but she hadn’t expected Delphine’s speed or that she’d use claws, not hands. Hazel’s jump landed her hard against the door, but there was no time to react. Delphine had already pivoted. Wolves were a hundred times faster on their feet than humans. She sprang at Hazel before anyone else could move.
If Delphine had wanted to go for Hazel’s throat, Frankie’s best friend would now be dead. Apparently, she wanted Hazel alive, so she clamped down hard on Hazel’s upper arm. Hazel howled and beat down on Delphine’s head with her fist, but it had no effect. And all the while, Hazel kept screaming.
“Stay back! Stay back!”
It was the only thing keeping Frankie upstairs. Logic. Strategy. The words had been burned into her since birth. It didn’t help anyone if she ran to the rescue and exposed herself and Kennedy before she had the proof she needed to take her brother down. Besides Hazel could handle this, right? She was a martial arts master.
Except the more Frankie watched, the more terrified she felt for the older woman. No matter how much Hazel struggled, Delphine just kept her jaws clamped tight. Blood and saliva flew as Hazel tried one attack after another. Not just her free hand, she kicked as well, but the wolf hung on. Who knew the bitch could take a beating like that?
Hazel had to stop. Delphine was ripping the shit out of her arm. It was only a matter of time before she tore something vital.
“Stay back! Stay ba—” The last word ended on a scream as Delphine must have bit down hard. Had she broken bone?
Frankie lunged forward, but was stopped by Kennedy. He gripped her arm and spoke in a low tone. “Can you take out both of them? Are they going to kill her? Or just talk to her?”