Royal Mate

by Juniper Hart

  He was.

  Gabriella stood, annoyed as the lawyer ogled the corrections officer.

  “I do miss the feel of small towns,” he sighed, wrenching his sparkling gray eyes from the retreating woman’s figure. Gabby shuddered slightly, trying to strike the image of the lawyer bedding the guard. “Cory Seaver,” the attorney announced, sticking forth a beautifully manicured hand. “I am glad to see you intact.”

  Gabriella blinked.

  “Intact?” she echoed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Cory laughed and gestured for the exit.

  “I have been in the bullpen. It is not a nice place for a gorgeous woman,” he replied. “Are you hungry? I know this town doesn’t have much, but Chappy’s Grill is pretty good, and I could definitely use a beer.”

  Gabriella found herself nodding. She had been living off fast food for the past few days, and she could use a beer herself.

  “I thought so,” Cory chuckled, leading her to a black BMW and opening the passenger side for her to step in.

  “Who… How did you get hired?” she asked when he settled into the driver’s seat.

  He cast her a sidelong look. “I think you know how that happened,” he replied. “But we’re not going to talk about that, all right? Our mutual friend is in enough trouble as it is.”

  Gabriella nodded quickly, a stab of shame coursing through her. I was right; I put the sheriff in an impossible position.

  “We can talk business over lunch, but I want you to forget anything you have told anyone up to this point,” Seaver told her. “We are starting fresh. Strike all that you have said to anyone. We are going with a completely new theory of the crime.”

  Again, she bobbed her head and stared at her hands.

  Whatever strategy he has planned doesn’t matter. I am leaving for Mexico tonight. Just nod and smile, she told herself. Agree with everything he says.

  They drove in silence, but it was comfortable—each one seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. As they pulled up to Chappy’s Grill, Cory turned off the car and abruptly turned to look at her, his grey eyes unblinking.

  “I want you to know that I believe you,” he told her earnestly, and Gabriella gasped aloud. The words almost seemed to be in a foreign language.

  “You believe me?” she whispered.

  He nodded, and Gabby could read no mockery in his eyes. “This is not the first time a bizarre death like this has happened in Great Falls; albeit, this is the first time it has happened during an attempted murder.”

  “What?” Gabby gasped. “Wolves have killed others in these parts? Inside someone’s house?”

  Cory nodded, pulling his keys from his ignition.

  “It’s been happening for a couple centuries, at least. The natives who lived around had their own stories about a mythical beast, and most people dismissed the tales as folklore, designed to scare little ones from venturing out at night.”

  “But you’ve seen this before?” Gabby asked excitedly, her hand against the dashboard. “Hasn’t anyone tried to find these animals? Maybe they’re rabid! They obviously don’t act like regular wolves. They should be found and euthanized!”

  Cory chortled.

  “Euthanized? You are from the city, aren’t you?” he chuckled. His face turned serious. “There have been many searches for the creatures, but they have never been found, nor has a wolf habitat been located. Whatever it is, it’s not a wolf, despite its likeness to one.”

  “No wolf habitats anywhere in these parts? Isn’t that odd?”

  “Very,” Cory confirmed. “But we haven’t seen wolves around here, and the stories surrounding these creatures always happen under very unusual circumstances.”

  “Then what is it?” Gabby demanded, uncomprehendingly. “What could it be?”

  Cory pursed his lips, his coal-like eyes darkening. “Some believe that they are werewolves.”

  Gabriella’s mouth fell open, realizing that he was jesting her after all, but before she could grow angry, she remembered the beast in her living room.

  It looked at me. It understood me. It was in there to protect me.

  A wave of dizziness overcame her as she envisioned the bullet falling from the wolf’s chest as it healed before her eyes.

  No, it can’t be. Werewolves aren’t real. And yet…

  “It’s, of course, speculation,” Cory continued, offering her a weak smile. “No one has ever lived to confirm such a tale. Whatever the creature is kills everything in sight, as if eliminating all witnesses. Well, they always have until now, that is.” He stared pointedly at her, and Gabriella felt her heart began to hammer. “But as I said, we can discuss this after we eat.”

  He turned and slid from the smooth, black seat, rushing over to open her door. Gabby stared at him, dazed.

  Honestly, I don’t have time to even entertain this right now. I have a very real, very pressing matter to deal with. Werewolves be damned.

  But as they sat themselves in the modest restaurant, Gabby could not help but look over her shoulder as if expecting a half-man to be looming behind her on his back legs.

  If there was a werewolf at my house that night, why did he stop at killing that man? Why didn’t he kill me, too?

  She voiced her question aloud after the harried owner took their food order and disappeared to the kitchen.

  “If it was such a beast,” Gabriella asked slowly, “why didn’t it kill me too?”

  Cory nodded agreeably, staring deep into her eyes as if searching for a pure truth within her irises.

  “That is a very good question,” he replied. “As I said, they have not been known to leave witnesses in their wake. That can only mean one of two things.” He took a sip of his beer and Gabriella waited, perched on the edge of her seat in anticipation.

  “Well?” she demanded when he took longer than she wanted to wait.

  Cory clucked his tongue. “Our mutual friend warned me that you were quick-tempered,” he laughed. “We’ll have to do something about that before trial.”

  Gabriella ignored the jab.

  “What two things could it mean?” she asked again.

  “First, it could mean that you had something that repelled him. Were you wearing any jewellery, particularly silver?”

  Gabby thought back to the night of the attack and shook her head.

  “No,” she answered. “Nothing at all. Is that really a thing? Silver keeping werewolves at bay?”

  Cory shrugged his shoulders indifferently and took another swig of his beer. “I don’t know. I’ve only heard the stories.”

  Gabriella stared at him expectantly as he continued to sip on his beer. He seemed to sense her impatience.

  “Well then, there’s no other explanation for it except…”

  “Except what?” Gabby cried, exasperated. “Tell me!”

  “Then the only other explanation is that the creature has feelings for you. There’s no other reason he should have kept you alive.”

  9

  Something was brewing, an undercurrent which Cameron found very difficult to pinpoint. He knew that both the police department and the pack were fraught with suspicions about him and his connection to Gabriella Medina, or Grace Kelly. He could sense a discourse occurring under his well-honed nose, but he could not say if it was as bad as it seemed, or if his guilty conscious was eating away at him.

  He had gone too far to go back, that he knew.

  After breaking back into the crime scene on 56th Street South, he had located Gabriella’s safe easily, hidden precisely where she had told him it would be. From there, he had gotten in his car and driven southwest nine hours to Boise, Idaho, where he had withdrawn money from several different banks. He had reasoned that if anyone had been keeping tabs on Gabriella’s spending, they would be a state away searching for her. Who would have access to such information? Police? Private investigators? Mayors?

  Without stopping to rest, he had turned around and returned home by daylight, where he had called on Cory
Seaver.

  “I need a favor,” he’d told the man. “And don’t ask any questions.”

  It was one of the main reasons why Cameron had thought to call the expensive lawyer from Spokane. He could be trusted not to open his mouth unnecessarily.

  Cory had grown up in Great Falls and knew the town well. He also owed Cameron a lot, something the sheriff did not need to mention when he commissioned Cory to make the trip from Washington.

  “Take care of her. She knows things that she isn’t aware can put her in danger,” Cameron told him on the phone.

  “Is there something I should know?” the suave attorney replied in his cocksure way.

  “Just do it and leave me out of it,” Cameron said. “I have work to do.”

  “What do you want me to do with her after I bail her out?”

  “For someone who isn’t supposed to be asking questions, you sure ask a lot of them,” Cameron snapped. “Figure it out.”

  The conversation had ended there and Cameron had exhaled, knowing that the girl who had begun haunting his every thought was safe.

  He was blurry-eyed as he stared at his office computer.

  I should go home and sleep, he thought, trying to recall the last time he had rested. His instincts were weakening, and he knew he was losing power from all angles. He rose to grab his jacket, but before he could move, Jeannie came floating through the workspace, smiling happily as she placed a file on his desk.

  “Forensics just faxed over the results of John Doe’s autopsy results,” she chirped. “Death by exsanguination by weapon or weapons unknown. But you’ll note that the coroner has seen the markings before.”

  She glanced at him meaningfully, but Cameron ignored the implication.

  Of course they have seen it before; bodies with these markings were found in spades before I reined in the pack. They haven’t seen a killing like this in a decade.

  “Why are you grinning?” he demanded, snatching the paper from the folder and peering at the pathologist’s report. The words were difficult to read in his exhausted state.

  “Because we know who he is now,” Jeannie replied, leaning up against the desk and folding her arms beneath her huge breasts.

  Cameron peered up at her. “We got an ID?”

  “Yep, I ran his DNA through CODIS. He’s in the system—a few times.”

  With wide eyes, the sheriff fumbled through the papers in his hand to learn the identity of the dead man. In seconds, he was holding the pages-long arrest record in his hand.

  “Andrew Bell. Did twelve years for attempted murder, five years for torture, two years for assault…” Cameron’s intense blue eyes flittered down the sheet to find his known associates and he nodded knowingly. “He’s a mob guy from New York. Jesus Christ.”

  Jeannie peered pensively at her boss, a small smile toying on her lips.

  “That’s an interesting spin on things,” she said lightly. “Maybe that accounts for the man winding up dead and the girl not talking. Someone from the mob threatened her, so she made up a batshit crazy story about wolves in her panic.”

  Cameron swallowed.

  I will mention this to Seaver. Maybe he can put that spin on it if this ever makes it to trial.

  “Could be,” he said. He glanced up at Jeannie gratefully. “Thanks for bringing this to me,” he told her.

  At least he now had somewhere to start looking for whoever was targeting Gabriella, but it was becoming fairly clear who it was: the mayor of New York City, David Charlotte.

  He pushed open the door to his apartment, his eyes still glued to the files.

  It only makes sense that the mayor would have connections to the mob, but why would he want Gabriella dead, especially if he was the one who owned up to the affair and she left town? She is not a danger to him. She has been denying it from the start, and with her out of town, he has nothing to worry about from her anymore. But who else could it be?

  Cameron assumed something more was going on than he could see, but he intended to learn everything he could and confront the man with an arrest warrant for conspiracy to commit murder.

  Hell, I may even charge the bastard with murder for the death of his hitman for good measure, and ensure he never sees the light of day.

  A familiar rage was beginning to grow in Cameron as he thought of how close Gabriella had come to being killed.

  He almost ruined everything by sending that demon out here. I was almost exposed—

  Cameron froze, his eyes adjusting to the blackness of his apartment.

  Someone was in his place.

  Quietly, he placed the file on the kitchen table and prowled toward the living room without making a noise. His nose sniffed the air for a clue as to who the intruder was, but Cameron’s senses were substantially lower than usual. He had not fed nor slept in too long.

  He could hear a faint noise coming from the bedroom as he drew closer, but he realized it was the television. Did I leave that thing on in the bedroom? It was possible, but he could not recall doing it. It did not change the fact that someone was in the apartment. Slowly, he pushed open the door to the bedroom and sighed, lowering his hand from his hip where it hovered over his sidearm.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he grunted, thrusting open the door with a thud as it crashed into the wall. Gabriella jumped at the noise, her face growing pale.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, sneaking up on me?” she yelled back, her hand over her heart.

  Cameron was immediately contrite, and he hurried inside the room.

  “Sorry,” he told her begrudgingly. “I wasn’t expecting you here. Why are you here?”

  She looked at him as if stunned by his apology. She lowered her shoulders as she realized she was not in danger.

  “Cory said I was staying here until trial,” she replied dryly.

  It was Cameron’s turn to grow pale. “Staying here?” he echoed. “You can’t stay here.”

  Gabriella immediately jumped to her feet.

  “I thought he was full of shit,” she grunted. “But he opened the door and told me to wait for you. He told me to tell you that he ‘figured it out as you requested.’ I can leave if you want me to.”

  Cameron stifled a groan, remembering what he had told the attorney earlier. Just one more person I am going to have to deal with later, he thought grimly.

  “No, it’s fine,” he told her. “You can stay tonight. We’ll make different arrangements in the morning.”

  She peered at him uncertainly.

  “I can’t understand why Cory would have brought me here if it wasn’t what you wanted.”

  Cameron knew exactly why, but he did not explain it to Gabriella; she had enough to worry about.

  “Have you eaten?” he said instead. “I don’t have much here, but I can order a pizza or something.” He winced at the sound of the words, but to his surprise, she nodded in agreement.

  “I’m actually famished,” she said. “I ate with Cory after court, but I could use more nourishment.”

  Cameron chuckled lightly and shrugged. “I can’t guarantee that Great Falls Pizza is nourishing, but it’s food.”

  Gabriella sat back down on the edge of the bed, where she had been watching television, and nodded.

  “Sounds good,” she agreed, and Cameron picked up the home phone on the bedside table, pressing a speed dial number. If Gabriella noticed, she did not comment as the sheriff placed the order. When he replaced the cordless phone on its charger, he turned to the lovely brunette, unsure of what to say.

  She was so beautiful, yet vulnerable, sitting tersely on his king-size bed. Cameron suddenly found himself inexplicably embarrassed by his mediocre accommodations. It was not that he could not afford better—he just did not see the point when he was alone.

  She’s used to living in luxury and she’s hiding out in a one-bedroom apartment in Great Falls.

  “I guess you didn’t have any problems getting access to the money,” Gabriella said, watching him ou
t of the corner of her coffee-colored eyes. He shook his head.

  “No. I went out of state to retrieve it, just in case someone was tracking your spending.”

  She looked at him appreciatively and nodded.

  “That was smart. Thank you for everything you’ve done,” she murmured.

  Cameron drew closer to her and sat gingerly beside her. “We identified the man who was in your house.” Gabriella’s head whipped upward and she stared at him with hope.

  “You did?” she gasped. “Who is he?”

  “His name is Andrew Bell. He is a mob affiliate from New York.”

  Gabriella’s face underwent a variety of changes, settling on confusion. “A mob hit? That makes no sense. I have never had any dealings with anyone like that. Why would the mafia want me dead?”

  “You tell me,” Cameron replied. “I am thinking it has something to do with your relationship with David Charlotte.”

  “There was no relationship with David Charlotte!” Gabriella shouted, her face growing red with anger. “It never happened!”

  Cameron was taken aback by the passion in her tone. He supposed it was only natural that she would deny it—she had done so in the past, if the articles he had read were any indication—but she seemed genuinely upset by the mention of the mayor.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” he asked, resisting his usual urge to respond with cynicism. He was learning that she did not respond well to his intimidation tactics. She’s got her own mind and she will stand her ground. If I don’t tread softly, we will just end up yelling at one another.

  Gabriella seemed uncomfortable at first, but she seemed to read something in his face; whatever it was, it encouraged her to speak.

  “I don’t really even know what happened,” she confessed. “I was away in Milan for a photo-shoot, and when I returned to New York, my voicemail was full and there were reporters camped outside my house. Apparently, the mayor had confessed to having some torrid affair with me when pictures surfaced of him with some brunette.”