“I need to talk to you,” Jenner said. “I know you and Jerry were good friends, so you can probably clear up a few issues I’m having.”
“What kind of issues?”
“Suspicion was thrown on Jerry in a murder case I’m still trying to clear. Jerry told me he’d been with you that night, and didn’t talk to my vic.”
“Okay. Where do you want to meet?” he asked. That would give him something to do, but he wouldn’t be distracted long, and Bradley knew it.
“We don’t need to meet tonight. I just need a confirmation or denial.”
“Jerry was with me that night,” he said. They had been together briefly. However, Jerry hadn’t killed the girl who’d died in Coyote Closet, but he’d ordered it. They’d both been in agreement that the girl had to die for what she’d seen.
It wasn’t personal, just a matter of protection.
“Thanks. Say, did you ever meet that FBI agent, Kamari?” Jenner asked.
“No. Why? Is she accusing me of something?”
“No. She hasn’t. I was just curious if you’d ever been to Hartland.”
“A time or two, but not in the last few years,” he said. “Why?”
“That’s where some clues lead me,” he answered.
“Jenner, you’re a smart man,” Bradley said. “These women will do anything to twist you around and turn attention from them. They’re the ones who did those killings. They will do anything to make Jerry the scapegoat.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Yeah. Call me anytime,” he said and ended the call. Bradley put the phone in his pocket and headed for the door.
His ringing phone drew a growl from him, but he pulled it from his pocket. A glance at the display gave him a little hope of a reprieve.
“What is it?”
“We need to meet. I think we need to talk about our mutual problem.”
****
Mallory toyed with her cell phone as she thought about Cordelia. The woman was a mystery, but her background check had come back clean. She knew more about her than she’d known about Sam’s mate, yet something about it all felt off.
“What, though?” she murmured.
Mallory wouldn’t be surprised if the woman was a plant by Jerry and Bradley. They couldn’t have just come up with this idea for their resort. They had to have known it wouldn’t be easy—what she needed was a look at the plans.
That wasn’t likely to happen unless she sent one of her trusted people to snoop around. She brought up the number pad and tapped in a number.
“What’s up?”
“Mica,” Mallory said without preamble. “Do you trust Delaney?” Delaney was one of Mallory’s pack mates, but she wasn’t about to send someone who could be a problem to do a sensitive job.
“Yeah. Why?”
“What about Sam?” Mallory pressed. “Does she trust her?”
“It was my call, but she didn’t have a problem with her. What do you need?”
“I need someone to do a little snooping,” she said. “I want to find out exactly what Bradley is up to, and who all’s involved in his push to build that resort now that Jerry is out of the picture.”
“I know someone who can do the job along with her who’s not pack, but is trustworthy,” Mica said.
“Get it done and tell Delaney to report directly to me,” she said. “I don’t want to risk any of the wrong people getting wind of this.”
“Will do,” she said. “You good? You seemed a little cranky earlier.”
“I’m not,” she muttered.
“Go get laid. Sam’s in the club all night and so am I.”
“Shut up,” she muttered. “I’m fine.”
“Right. Take a girl up to your playroom and blow off some steam then.”
“Just do your job, and keep me in the loop,” Mallory grumbled.
Mica snorted in her ear. “Am I keeping Sam out of the loop?”
“Your call, but it’s not necessary. I’m just going to tell her what you find out.” She didn’t see a reason to have any secrets on this from her old friend.
“I’ll let you do the telling then,” Mica said. “See you later, and at least—”
“Quit harping on it,” she snapped. “I’ve already heard enough from Brynn.” Mallory ended the call and got to her feet, and the knock on her door made her groan. “What?”
The door opened, and a petite younger woman stood there in a cute pantsuit. Her black hair was put up in a neat puff.
“What do you want?” she demanded of Jenner’s sister.
“Hi, Mallory.” She pushed the door closed. “Do you have a minute or two? I’m doing a story for the paper.”
Mallory studied her, considering why she might really be there. “What kind of story?”
“As you know, Jericho’s disappearance is the talk of the town, along with Isa’s murder, as well as that serial killer scare. Isa was rumored to have been seeing you. Is that true?”
Mallory rubbed her hands on her pants legs. “No.” She’d had a few nights with the girl, but the rest was just training. Isa had wanted to learn BDSM.
“There are a few pictures that place you with her, and my brother has evidence enough to investigate you, so there has to be something there.”
“Then go talk to him,” Mallory ordered.
“Was Kamari working undercover here for the FBI?” Carleigh asked. “Was she tracking a serial killer?”
“Ask her. Now, get out.” Mallory motioned to the door. “I’m not going to help your brother railroad me. If he wants something to take to the D.A, he’s going to have to find it.”
“So, there is something to find. Something to the rumor that you killed Isa because she wanted more and that she was threatening to tell that you and Sam were trying to set Jericho up.”
“I’ll throw you out if I have to ask you to leave again,” Mallory said as she grabbed her phone from her desk and yanked open a drawer.
“What’s the harm in answering a few questions, Mallory, especially if you have nothing to hide?” Carleigh persisted.
Mallory grabbed her car keys. “Do you need an invitation to the exit?”
“You do realize if you lay a hand on me, Jenner will bury you?” she asked with a raised brow.
“Girl, I could bury you under my desk, and my security team, who saw you come in here, won’t say a thing because your brother has turned into an ass-wipe.” Mallory closed the drawer and rounded her desk. “Which means no prosecution.”
Carleigh took several steps back, concern in her brown eyes. “I’m just trying to do my job.”
“Do it elsewhere.” She breezed past the girl and pulled open the door. “Out.”
Carleigh gave Mallory a tight-lipped stare but marched out the door. “I’m not going to go away,” she warned. “I’ll be back.”
“I doubt that.” Mallory locked her office door. “After you.”
Carleigh huffed. “Is Sam in?”
“Yep. You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t throw you out on your head.” She trailed behind the other woman. Mallory led her back downstairs and motioned to a bouncer. “Get rid of her. Make sure she doesn’t get back in.”
The woman nodded and took Carleigh’s arm. “This way.”
Mallory went out the employee’s entrance and headed to her car. She climbed inside deciding what she needed was a run. But she couldn’t risk running outside of her lands.
If the wolves caught her, they’d kill her even though they rarely ran in wolf form outside of their own den. Or at least, they never used to, but with Jericho dead and the Snow Dogs set on vengeance against members of Sam’s pack, the damned wolves always seemed to be on the prowl.
And her death would only incite a bigger problem because Mallory was certain Sam wouldn’t just say good riddance. She’d go hunting.
Chapter Six
Cordelia stood in her bedroom naked, having just climbed out of a bath. She smoothed on
moisturizer, her thoughts on Mallory and the way she’d stared at her when she’d dropped her off today. It had been clear she was interested, but even more so that she was hesitant.
With all that was going on in her life, Cordelia could understand why. She wasn’t in any hurry to let anyone get close to her either.
A rap on her door tore her from her reverie, so Cordelia grabbed her robe and pulled it on. Once she reached the door, she looked out the peephole. Seeing no one, she carefully pulled open the door and looked out. Her breath came out a white puff in the cold.
As she started to close the door, a figure stepped out of the shadows at the side of the building, and she let out a startled sound.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Larue drawled.
“What are you doing here?”
“Is that any way to talk to your woman?” she asked.
“You’re insane,” Cordelia cried.
“I don’t appreciate you getting my boss involved,” Larue said as she drew closer. “He didn’t say much. He got a bit of a kick out the whole thing.”
Shaking, she started to close the door, but Larue was faster. The woman wedged her boot in the door and shoved hard, throwing Cordelia back. Then, she stepped inside.
“You really need to learn some manners,” Larue said and reached down to jerk her to her feet before jerking Cordelia against her. Her hands slid down her back to squeeze her ass.
“Get off me.” Cordelia pushed at her, and Larue shoved her against the door and struck her before closing a hand around her throat and applying pressure.
“I want you, Cordelia, and I’m going to have you. You can either give yourself to me or I’ll take you the hard way. Do you understand?”
Cordelia swallowed tightly and fought the urge to attack. “I’m not yours, Larue,” she said softly.
The woman tightened her grip and banged Cordelia’s head against the wall. Then, she leaned in close to lick the side of her face.
“Never tell a jackal who wants you, no,” she whispered. “Once we get the scent of prey, we keep going until we catch it.”
Cordelia smashed the heel of her foot into the other woman’s shin and shoved hard. Larue released her, and Cordelia reached for the door handle. However, Larue was on her again, but this time she had her weapon in hand.
She pressed the barrel to Cordelia’s temple hard enough to make her wince.
“Do you want to die tonight, beautiful?”
She closed her eyes, fighting the hot tears that threatened to escape. She could cry. The damned dog would just push harder.
“Look at me, sweet thing,” she murmured.
Cordelia opened her eyes and looked right into those pools of gray. They were stone hard.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I just want you in my bed where you belong, okay?”
She nodded.
“I’m glad we understand each other. Now, stay away from my boss, and keep this to yourself. I just wanted to bring you a present to show you that I was serious, and you had to turn this into a fight.” She withdrew her gun and slid it back into its holster before reaching into her pants pocket.
Larue held out a small box.
“I want you to wear this for me,” she said. “I’ll be at the club to watch you dance tomorrow, and I want to see my bracelet on your wrist.”
A cell phone rang, and Larue reached into her pants pocket for hers. “Yeah? I’m on my way.” She ended the call. “I have to get back to work.” She kissed Cordelia hard on the lips and pressed the box into her hand before dashing out the door.
Cordelia let out a scream and threw the box across the room. “Bastard!” She locked her door as tears burned their way down her cheeks.
Chapter Seven
Mallory found herself parked in Cordelia’s driveway ten minutes later where she sat staring up at the complex. She didn’t know why she’d come here when she had more important things to do in the den.
So why was she wasting her time here? The dancer could be nothing but a distraction, a bad waste of time.
She just wanted to check on her, Mallory told herself. As she walked up, Mallory got the feeling she was being watched. She glanced around, eyes going nightglow as she surveyed the shadows.
A couple sat on the stairs talking quietly, ignoring the world around them. A male stood on the porch of a second-floor apartment staring down at his phone.
But someone was watching. The coyote sensed it.
If any wolves attacked her, she’d kill them unless they killed her first. Mallory wasn’t going to allow them to bully her, no matter what.
When she reached Cordelia’s first floor apartment, Mallory rapped on the door and her coyote lifted her lip in a silent snarl. The scent drifting to her wasn’t wolf, and it rubbed her coyote the wrong way.
The door opened, and warmth rushed out into the cold night to greet her.
“I’m surprised to see you,” Cordelia said breathlessly.
Mallory met her gaze, finding a tentative smile on her pretty face. Mallory moved forward, and Cordelia stepped back to let her in. That’s when she saw the faint lines of a redness on her pale skin.
“I just wanted to check on you,” Mallory said, and it looked like she should have been here a little sooner instead of trying to talk herself into going home. “I hope you weren’t sleeping.”
“No.” She shook her head, and Mallory’s gaze was riveted on the slight peachy undertones of Cordelia’s creamy skin.
With her red hair up, it was easy for Mallory to see the hint of a black and blue mark. It drew a frown to her face and Cordelia backed up.
Mallory pushed the door closed at her back, and her gaze roved over Cordelia in a short gown that barely covered her thighs.
“Thanks, but you could have called, you know,” Cordelia said. “Slow night?”
“No. Actually, it’s pretty busy.” Mallory cast a look around the room, her coyote picking up a hint of jackal. “You’re missing a big pay day.”
Cordelia smiled. She reached up and pulled the sticks from her hair causing the auburn mass to flow around her face and shoulders, covering the bruise at the side of her throat.
“I’ll live with it. So, do you want a drink? Water, tea? Something harder?”
“What have you got?”
“Beer, whiskey, wine, and scotch.”
“Whiskey’s good.”
“Make yourself at home,” she said, motioning to the sofa. Cordelia headed to the kitchen which overlooked the living area, separated only by the breakfast bar.
“So, how’d you meet the cop?” Mallory asked curiously, as she swept her gaze around the room. She found a box on the floor and went to pick it up. “I mean, I’ve seen her in the club, but I’ve never noticed you with her.”
“I gave her a few lap dances,” Cordelia said. “She seemed nice enough, so when she asked me out, I figured it would be okay. Just a date.”
“Did you report the attempted rape in Mystic?” Mallory opened the box to see a silver ID bracelet with Larue’s name inscribed on it.
“No. I just wanted to forget about it.” Cordelia poured amber liquid into a shot glass and set the bottle on the counter. “I didn’t think she’d make it into a federal case.”
Mallory grunted. “You should have reported it.” She closed the box and set it on the coffee table.
“I’m akin to a sex worker, Mallory,” she said as she rounded the bar. “No one gives a damn about us. They think because we take our clothes off for a living that means we’re whores who are asking for whatever we get.”
Mallory shrugged. “People do think like that, but you seem like a fighter to me.”
“I fight to survive, not make change,” she replied softly. “And I get the feeling I’m going to have to do that here or leave.”
“People like that tend to follow,” Mallory said as her coyote growled at the thought of Cordelia leaving.
“I know, but even that can be gotten around if you know how to do it.”
&
nbsp; The flash of pain in her eyes told Mallory Cordelia had been down this road before and that’s what had brought her here.
She took the glass Cordelia held out to her and their fingers touched. Her blood heated, and hunger sparked low in her belly.
The coyote growled, a rumble in her chest.
Shit.
She didn’t need that.
Damn.
Mallory withdrew, sloshing a little of the drink over the rim of the glass and Cordelia’s steady gaze flashed vivid green. Mallory blinked.
Son of a gun. Was she a shifter?
“The bracelet, was she here tonight?”
Cordelia nodded. “I called to report it, but I was brushed off by the guy who took my call. He said she couldn’t have been here because she’s on duty and would never walk off her post.”
“Take the bracelet in and file a formal complaint for harassment,” Mallory told her. “You need that on record as well as the bruise on your neck. Did she do that?”
“Yeah, she did that and put her gun to my head.” Her voice wavered slightly, and a hint of rage flashed in those eyes that went green momentarily again.
“Get dressed,” she ordered. “I’ll take you down there.”
“I—”
“Now,” Mallory commanded.
“Okay. You’re right.”
****
Cordelia headed into her bedroom and changed. She had decided not to bother going down since she didn’t think it would do any good. She’d already made up her mind that if she couldn’t shake the woman, she’d leave town.
Killing her was an option, but Cordelia had taken it off the table deciding she couldn’t solve every problem by using her abilities.
Her cat disagreed vehemently. The animal side of her had come from both of her parents. Her mother had been a lynx, an Irish witch, a druid who’d walked the ways of the wise and gained power and knowledge through her study of her family tradition.
Her father had been a half-black man whose Indian heritage had led him to study the craft of the wise as well. He’d been a coyote shifter.
They’d taught her to honor her heritage, but she’d hidden all connections to that in order to prevent any leakage that she was still alive. The glamour magicks were what kept her hidden so well now by giving her face a slightly altered appearance.
Catching a Coyote Page 4