Head Hunter

by Layla Nash

  “I have enough for both of us,” he said. Dodge couldn’t help it; he bent his head to kiss hers, and held her close against him. The awful tension of being away from her melted away. He could finally breathe.

  He was in so much goddamned trouble.

  Chapter 21

  Percy

  I was doing my best to disappear into the couch cushions as O’Brien went to the kitchen to get coffee. Eventually the rise and fall of voices clued me in to someone else being in there with her, maybe arguing with the detective. I tried to psych myself up for what would come next: reliving the awful moments of sneaking into the kitchen and seeing the blood, hearing the bone saws...

  I shuddered and hunkered down, trying to push those thoughts aside. I couldn’t let them haunt me or take over my mind. Surely there had to be a flow-chart or wiring diagram to explain how to work through traumatic memories. Someone must have come up with a process or checklist. Maybe there was a laptop somewhere in the house I could use for research. Almost anything could be solved with a bit of studying and concentration.

  Then a quiet voice interrupted my spiral into disorientation, and a weight immediately lifted off my shoulders: Dodge. He moved slowly and carefully to sit next to me, telegraphing every move, and treated me like I was fine china teetering on the edge of a shelf. He brought so much relief that I almost couldn’t contain my emotions. It would have been embarrassing as hell to start sobbing into his shoulder just because I was happy he came back and I could lean on him for the awful parts.

  Almost as embarrassing was being practically in his lap when O’Brien returned.

  Dodge tensed briefly as she seated herself in the armchair once more, but he took a deep breath and relaxed. He held me closer and let me lean against him. The detective hardly looked at him, and certainly didn’t raise an eyebrow about me being plastered to his side.

  Instead, she sipped her coffee and flipped through her notebook. “I know this is the tough part, Persephone. It’s important to get the details right, as you remember them. It’s often easier to talk about this sort of thing if you imagine it was a movie you watched.”

  Until movies made you smell blood and raw meat, that wasn’t a great analogy.

  O’Brien must have seen something in my expression that communicated my disbelief, because she smiled and tried to hide it with the coffee cup. “Or not. So. We stopped when you were leaving the habitat where you moved around all the plants and dirt, and you heard something outside. What happened next?”

  I rubbed my hands on my thighs, wishing there wasn’t a window behind me. Bridger’s guys had parked on the street outside Deirdre’s house, so maybe they’d try to sneak up on us. “Well, I thought maybe Geordie wanted to check on my work. He’s been really... intent on figuring out everything that I do at the sanctuary. I felt like confronting him over his bullshit. It wasn’t smart, obviously, since it was dark and there wasn’t anyone else – there wasn’t supposed to be anyone else around.”

  “Had Geordie ever threatened you? Made you feel like you were in danger?”

  I picked at my jeans over and over, staring at a faded patch on the knee. “He yelled a lot. Blamed me for everything going wrong. He’s a bully. I didn’t think he meant to hurt me at the time, but looking back...” I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. If I challenged him in front of people, he would get very angry. Angry enough to be violent, though? I don’t know.”

  Dodge caught my hand in his and I flushed. He must have found my picking and fiddling annoying. But Dodge turned his head and pressed his lips to my temple. He murmured, “Trust your instincts, Persephone. Close your eyes and go with your gut.”

  I swallowed the knot in my throat and struggled with the surge of emotions. I’d always felt uneasy around Geordie but brushed it aside because I wanted the job. I was so desperate for a good job that I’d been willing to overlook an asshole who made me deeply uncomfortable. The feeling of Dodge’s fingers curled through mine settled some of that uneasiness. He’d been right; borrowing his confidence was almost as good as having my own. “Yes, I was – I am afraid of Geordie. I don’t know what he’s capable of. He doesn’t like the animals and doesn’t have a charitable bone in his body, so I don’t know what he’s doing working there.”

  The detective made a thoughtful noise. “What is his relationship to Ms. Bridger?”

  “She hired him and gave him directions daily,” I said. That much I’d known for sure; I’d overheard snippets of their conversations, though they’d been too cryptic for me to understand. “He had his own office while the rest of us shared a few spots.”

  “So you thought he was there that night and you went to confront him.”

  My chest tightened as I felt the same sinking sensation in my guts. “I went to – to the vet building, the main building where the animals get check-ups and the dietician prepares all the meals before the keepers feed the animals. That’s when I heard the voices.”

  “Mhmm.” O’Brien watched me with a neutral expression, waiting for me to go on.

  But my throat seized up and I couldn’t force the words out.

  Dodge shifted a little, then abruptly dragged me all the way into his lap. His arms wrapped around me and held me back against his chest as he turned to kick his legs up to the loveseat. He adjusted the blanket over us and kissed the side of my neck. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

  My cheeks burned but it was easier to talk without having the detective staring at me. I could pretend I was back in my apartment, in my bed, with Dodge next to me. Even if he’d hardcore rejected me when I wanted to get frisky, his steady presence and the even rise-and-fall of his breathing lulled me into a more serene state of mind. I took a deep breath and started narrating what happened after I saw the men dragging the tarp-wrapped body into the building.

  Dodge grumbled and occasionally smoothed his hand down my arm to calm me when the tremors grew too strong. It made it easier, though. He definitely made things easier. I felt a little bad that he had to sit there with me sprawled all over him as I mumbled and fought back tears. No doubt Dodge had been told to sit there with me.

  But I couldn’t force myself to pull away, regardless of my brain telling me I needed to stand on my own.

  The detective murmured the occasional question as I stumbled through the story. Every time she spoke, Dodge tensed or a hint of a growl bubbled up in his breathing. It made me feel better that he, at least, felt the same way I did about her dragging things out. My head finally dropped back to rest against Dodge’s shoulder. I breathed in the scent of his skin and his clean shirt, and the warm whiskey cologne that clung to him.

  A few shots of whiskey would have been nice preparation for reliving the events of the night before. If I had to talk to Dodge about anything even slightly sensitive, I’d definitely need a drink or three first. I wanted to know why he’d insisted on sleeping next to me but ran away with his ass on fire when I wanted more. Maybe getting drunk was the best way to end the night. Alcohol could definitely give me courage, if not confidence.

  When I finally ran out of words and O’Brien ran out of questions, the detective turned her attention to Dodge. “Very well. Shall we run through your experience during the altercation?”

  “That’s fine,” Dodge said. His hands caught my waist, as if he meant to lift me off him, then hesitated. He rested his chin on my shoulder and murmured, “Do you want to stay to hear what I have to say, or do you want to go take your nap?”

  Him saying it that way made me sound like a cranky toddler, given the choice between time out and bedtime. I kind of wanted a nap but I didn’t want to do it alone. My cheeks ached with embarrassment to know that I wanted him to nap with me, to put his arms around me. It was the only way I felt safe. He was the only shelter that worked.

  His arms tightened around me briefly, trying to get my attention. “I don’t want this to upset you, babe. I’ve got to talk about the ugly stuff that happened.”

  The endearment sent chills r
acing through me, as did the gruff affection in his voice. I almost didn’t mind the thought of hearing about our shared and horrible experience, so long as he was the one talking about it. I could listen to that soft, rusty voice all day. All night. I could imagine him saying my name in that gentle tone, murmuring how much he loved me, asking me to stay with him.

  My heart tripped and stumbled over the thought. What the hell was wrong with me?

  My head still rested against his shoulder, my forehead against his neck, and I sighed. “I’ll stay here.”

  “Good,” Dodge said, and kissed my temple before he turned his attention to the detective. “I tracked Persephone to the sanctuary so I could retrieve her for Evershaw. They needed to explain several things to her. I approached the sanctuary in wolf form and arrived at approximately...”

  He went on, his voice quiet and calm. His matter-of-fact recitation of events achieved what O’Brien had suggested: it sounded like a movie he’d seen or maybe a book he’d read. It didn’t sound real, just a random collection of facts. Occasionally my interest was piqued by some detail about his wolf senses and the thought process behind how he searched for me and for the bad guys.

  Still, though, the smooth cadence of his voice began to lull me to sleep. Everything that day caught up with me and should have sent me running for the hills, but instead I couldn’t imagine myself anywhere but in his arms. My eyes drifted shut and I breathed him in. I didn’t mind at all the thought of drifting off to sleep.

  Chapter 22

  Dodge

  Dodge knew it the moment Persephone fell asleep; she totally relaxed and sighed against his throat and nuzzled closer. Whatever he’d been telling the detective trailed off as all of his attention went to the human in his arms. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. He needed to fight against the sense of completeness that came with having her close, otherwise there wouldn’t be any coming back from it. He couldn’t be alone again, not after feeling her fall asleep in his arms.

  “I hate to interrupt,” the detective said, her voice uncharacteristically quiet. “But you were about to tell me when you noticed the men following you.”

  He would have growled at O’Brien to keep her trap shut, lest she wake Persephone, but the growl might have woken the human and he wasn’t about to risk that. So he forced his eyes open and tilted his head just a bit until he could meet the detective’s gaze. “I’ll keep talking but if anything wakes her up, we’re done.”

  The detective held up her hands. Her mouth twisted in some kind of smile – maybe it was a smirk, maybe it was just the way Irish banshees smiled. “I won’t wake her up but I can’t guarantee one of your asshole packmates won’t come stampeding through here.”

  Which was a good point. The faster Dodge told the detective what she wanted to know, the sooner he could get Persephone upstairs to his den. There she would be safe and no one would bother her. He adjusted his arms around Persephone, rewarded with her sighing and wiggling to try and get even closer, and took a deep breath. “Fine. I saw them after we left her apartment. I thought they might have been there when we first departed, but I wasn’t sure until we stopped at a coffee shop. One of them came into the place with us. I didn’t tell Persephone because I didn’t want her to freak out.”

  “Describe him,” O’Brien said, and flipped to a new page in her notebook.

  He did, then described the five other goons he’d spotted following them, and gave the detective a description of the cars as well. O’Brien tensed when he mentioned the car following them to Deirdre’s house and parking on the street. Dodge rubbed Persephone’s back in slow circles, trying to soothe her as a few tremors ran through her. “You’ll need to sneak out of here, however your kind do it, so they don’t spot a homicide detective visiting the same house where Persephone is holed up.”

  “You’re holed up here as well, wolf.” O’Brien checked her watch, then glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen and a ruckus from where Deirdre’s workroom was. “Don’t think they’ll leave you alive. You’re more a danger to Bridger than a human. If Lawson went to the news about this and mentioned seeing a wolfman and someone working magic, no one would take her seriously. And a human – even one far stronger than this one – isn’t really a threat to Bridger or her people. You, however, are. You’re strong and well-trained, and know how to fight them. You could very easily get to Bridger any time you want. She knows that. You are who scares her. She doesn’t fear Lawson.”

  She had a point. Dodge scowled at the realization. He hadn’t even considered whether he was in danger. He had no concern about his own safety, just Persephone’s. She was vulnerable. He’d lived a dangerous life and used up more than ten miraculous second-chances. He’d survived enough that he’d survive Bridger and her people, no matter how determined they were to get rid of him. “It doesn’t matter. Just that she’s safe.”

  “And have you stopped to think who’ll protect her if you’re chopped up for tiger chow?”

  His eyes narrowed and a low growl rumbled in his chest. Persephone’s face scrunched up in her sleep, and he immediately silenced and started rubbing her back again. He didn’t go on until he was certain she wasn’t going to wake. Then he turned a warning look on the detective. “The pack will take care of her. They’ll protect her.”

  O’Brien’s eyebrows arched, and she gestured at Persephone with her pen. “What makes you think she’d tolerate anyone else from your pack following her around?”

  Dodge tensed. He hadn’t really considered that.

  When he didn’t speak, the detective sat forward and put away her notepad. “Look, man. You two are connected. She might not understand it now, but you damn well better explain it, and soon. She obviously trusts you. You don’t want to risk that trust by keeping this from her.”

  “She’s not ready,” he said quietly. “She doesn’t want anything to do with the supernatural or the pack.”

  “All the more reason to be very clear on what ties her to you and the pack.” O’Brien stood, glancing around the living room. “She can’t walk away, not now. She’s in it, especially if Bridger has her sights set on Persephone. She’ll believe it if you tell her, Dodge. She’s not going to trust anyone else when they say the same thing.”

  Dodge frowned but didn’t want to argue. Instead, he rubbed his chin against Persephone’s head, soothed by the sensation of her hair against his skin and beard. The detective snorted and held up her notepad. “I’ll be in touch if I need more information. Don’t worry about me being seen here; I have a few tricks up my sleeve. I’ll check in with Evershaw and be on my way.”

  He didn’t take his attention off Persephone, but managed to call after the detective, “Notify me immediately if you see anything that poses a danger to Persephone.”

  “And if there’s someone after you, too,” O’Brien said, then she disappeared into the back of the house.

  Dodge exhaled his irritation and closed his eyes, concentrating only on Persephone. She was finally snuggled in his arms and pressed against his chest. Safe. Close. But not safe enough. Not comfortable enough, either. Not that he knew how to get up and carry her upstairs without waking her. She hadn’t rested enough yet, he knew that.

  But someone had started rattling around in the kitchen. It was only a matter of time until Todd barged into the living room, or Mercy tossed around dishes in the dining room, or Evershaw started bellowing orders. Dodge smoothed his hand over Persephone’s head, playing with her hair, and whispered to her, “I’m going to take you upstairs where it’s quiet.”

  She murmured something sleepily and sighed. He took that as approval of the plan, and carefully eased off the couch. He maneuvered her into his arms and easily lifted her up. Persephone wrapped her hand in his shirt as he started up the stairs, and she yawned before nuzzling closer under his chin. “And you’ll be there?”

  His heart cracked. He should just put her in his room and maybe sleep on the floor across the doorway so no one would bother her. Or he shou
ld flee downstairs the moment she was tucked in. Dodge knew it was better to create some distance. Everything about her entranced him. He was lost already, and it would only be harder to walk away if their physical contact increased.

  But he kissed her forehead and said, “Of course.”

  “Good.”

  Dodge nudged his door open and maneuvered Persephone through without whacking her head or legs into the wall, which took more skill than he’d thought. He frowned at his unmade bed, then bent to slide Persephone across the sheets. He removed her shoes and absently squeezed her ankle, then started to pull the sheets up over her.

  Persephone, only half awake, lifted her head and started to unbutton her jeans. “Gotta take these off.”

  He swallowed a groan. “Maybe it’s better if you –“

  “Uncomfortable,” she muttered. She kicked off the jeans and tossed them to the floor, then pressed her face into the pillow.

  Her ass looked amazing in jeans and suit pants, but it was fucking fantastic when presented almost bare. Transcendent. A miracle in cute pink panties with hearts all over them. Dodge knew he shouldn’t have stared but he couldn’t take his eyes off the tempting softness of her ass, the swell of her hips, the smooth delicate skin of her thighs. God help him. There was no way he could walk away, not from that.

  But he was definitely keeping his pants on. He had to adjust himself as his thoughts ran wild with how it would feel to touch her, to pull her close, to press into her and make her his. Dodge groaned and ran his hands through his hair. Maybe taking a cold shower would get his mind right. He needed to walk away.

  Persephone’s arm slid across the sheets, patting and searching, and she cracked an eye open to check the room. Relief filtered across her expression when she saw him standing next to the bed. “Aren’t you going to stay?”