by Deja Black
His existence settled Peter, allowed him a place in the world, a way to be a part of it. Often, Peter watched from the sidelines, the quiet observer but never the participant. He wasn’t shy. He just didn’t have an interest in the lives of others. Photograph them? Yes. Keep their images alive for a lifetime? Yes. Grant them a key to his soul? Never.
He also loved the idea of family. He worked to provide homes for those who lost their own, like he and Caleb. They shared loss, one Caleb never spoke of that fueled the anger the wolf had against humans today.
“I don’t want to fail you in this, Peter, the next step on your path. It is regrettable that I can never be the one who will give you what you need,” Caleb said. “But, I will be there to serve you and your Supruga both when your mate arrives.”
“And what if it is the human?” What if it were Remi?
Caleb was quiet, thinking. “It would be a mistake.”
Peter rose swiftly, the speed at which he stood suddenly before Caleb, astonishing even to himself. Reaching out he grasped Caleb’s neck tightly. “And if my mate were human, Caleb, my Second?” The title was there, the reminder of his place, the warning unmistakable. Peter’s grip tightened further as he held Caleb prisoner.
Caleb shook, the force from his leader liquidizing his desire to revolt. “I will serve you and your chosen without fail, as I was meant to do. Honor both given and received.”
An awareness slid along Peter’s consciousness, climbed from the depths of his soul. He felt the pulses moving through him, a cognizance that rose in waves over his frame.
Peter slid his thumb along the column of Caleb’s throat, pressed inward softly. A raging inferno coursed through his touch, a charge that branched out from his fingertip and blazed over Caleb’s form. He was able to feel Caleb’s heartbeat, to connect with the energy he held within. In his mind, he visualized drawing it from Caleb, holding it in his hands.
“Peter.” The name was uttered through clenched teeth. Peter removed his finger, felt the vibrancy return to him, and heard Caleb’s breath slowing to normal. “It’s changing.”
“Yes.”
“What else did you notice?”
“Subtle changes. I can recognize energy, capture it.” He’d tried it a few times with random people in the street, with animals. Just enough to not be noticed after the first person collapsed in pain, writhing as onlookers ran to help. Peter remained still unable to stop himself from taking more. Finally, when Caleb grabbed his heart, Peter reigned in his control, the rush he felt overwhelming.
“It’s growing, though. I can feel it.” Feel. What had Marisol felt when she died? “Caleb, I have to know who did this. Remi’s right. Somehow, I’m involved. I want to know how.”
“We are not the only monsters, Peter. Charles Manson, the Son of Sam, among others. These creatures murder and destroy without reason.”
Yet, Peter knew it was more than that.
“Caleb. I need to know why.”
“Yes, Korol,” Caleb said in deference. “We will look into it. Is that what you want?”
“It is. She was kind, and my friend. I loved her.” He didn’t count himself as having many friends. To lose one wounded him.
“It will be handled.” And, it would. The Iroquois Pack had contacts and some pack members in every authoritative facet of the human world.
Men and women of human law were within Caleb’s reach as well. Peter would wait, and then justice would be secured for Marisol and the family unfortunate to lose her.
“First thing, we’ll get our own eyes and ears there.”
* * * *
Saturday arrived too damned early for Remi’s phone to be going off like it was angry at him for not answering soon enough. Seemed it hadn’t gotten the fucking memo regarding a beer or two too many and the need for some serious shut-eye, so when it went off a third time, annihilating his auditory senses, he rolled over and answered.
“Devereaux,” he groaned into the phone, trying to chase the sleep from his voice.
“I need you in the office now. So, shake whatever it is that has you sounding like you’ve been dragging the bottom of the Ohio River out of your system and get your ass in here,” the Lieutenant’s voice was a chainsaw as he growled into the phone, blasting the cotton out of Remi’s ears.
“Yes, sir.”
Kaden was just as groggy as Remi when he entered the station. All was right with the world because Remi would seriously consider shooting him if he was any more alive. They’d met for drinks last night to talk about the case. Kaden left along with a woman in a slinky blue dress while Remi returned to an empty home with crisp sheets. From the blistering red marks Kaden wore around his neck like a Hawaiian lei, he’d had an excellent night.
Right now, a sandy-haired giant with a cigar poking out between his lips stood in the doorway, his squint enough to hurry the two of them.
“Devereaux! Lowery! Get in here!”
“Nice try there, Lieutenant. Baby steps.” Remi said when he noticed the cigar wasn’t lit. The grunted acknowledgment was all he was going to get for now in the lieutenant’s latest attempt at ending his smoking habit.
Standing near the wall at the edge of his desk was a silent, imposing figure. Bald, tall, and broad. His skin was a light gold, the color of shiny buffed walnuts. He wore a pair of shades in an office with the blinds closed. Instantly suspicious, Remi didn’t like the feeling he was getting, and from the way Kaden tensed, they were on the same wavelength.
“Allow me to introduce the liaison for the De La Cruz family,” the lieutenant said.
Death, that’s what Remi felt crawling over his bones as the Goliath in the gray suit turned to them. “Gentlemen.” It was like walking out into the cold, a negative ten degrees, a biting frostiness that took his breath away.
“Mr. Jawahir is here to help and assist in any way. The De La Cruz family is understandably concerned about the loss of Marisol De La Cruz and would like every available resource employed in finding her killer. Mr. Jawahir has the experience and the backing of the De La Cruz family to make that happen. You are to keep him in the loop on your progress and findings. He will share with us what he discovers as well.” McIntyre looked toward Kaden.
“Lowery, show him what you found so far. Bring him up to speed. Devereaux, I know you have questions. Stay a moment.” To the tall Arab, he said, “Mr. Jawahir, thank you. You’re in good hands. These men are two of my best detectives.”
Remi watched as the two men left—Jawahir with the ease of a jungle cat, all sinewy muscle, and Kaden filling him in as the two walked away.
“Not sure what’s going on here, Remi. The directive came down from Valhalla. Wouldn’t be surprised if Thor himself called after all the powers that be on the end of my phone today. Ended the call one moment, and the giant was here standing in my office the next.” The lieutenant sighed. “Whatever your thoughts, work with him. In the meantime, keep me abreast of the situation. You have a keen eye and a sharp nose. Something’s off here, you find out what.” Moving to his desk, he looked up briefly when Remi still hadn’t moved. Taking the cigar from his lips, he said, “Yes, Devereaux.”
Remi stood silently, his lips bending in a grin. “So, I have a keen eye and a sharp nose? Two compliments in one day?” Remi pressed his hand to his chest, eyes skyward. “Be still my beating heart.”
It was a laugh he hadn’t heard often from the lieutenant as he huffed. “Get the fuck out of here, Deveraux.” Remi grinned as he turned away.
When Remi returned to the desk space he shared with his partner, he saw Kaden pointing out the data they’d collected so far, complete with the photos from the home, and notes.
“I will leave you my card should anything arise further. The family is most grateful for your tenacity in resolving their loved one’s death.” Respectful, kind... but the hint of danger beneath the words was no less detectable. He passed them each a card with his contact information. “The family
expects to be apprised of anything you come across, as do I.”
“Funny you say that. I questioned a Peter Romanoff yesterday about his involvement with Dr. De La Cruz.”
“Peter Romanoff is a friend of the family. No need to concern yourselves with their relationship.” The tone was imperious, inviting no other conversation on the matter. “If that is all for now, I’ll be in touch.” Then, he was gone.
Well, that confirmed it for Remi. The instant brush off when asked about Peter along with his sudden appearance? This had Caleb Waneek all over it, which, of course, meant there was a connection to Peter. This was well worth a second visit. But first, he would call him.
The phone rang briefly before Peter answered it. The sound of his voice awakening Remi’s dick. There was no getting away from the fact that just hearing Peter say his name started a flame in his chest that could grow into a forest fire if left unchecked.
“Detective Devereaux,” Peter said without hesitation.
“How are you, Cher?”
“Better. Thank you.”
“I’m sorry about yesterday. Had I known—”
“You would still have to do your job, Remi. I understand and appreciate how diligently your department is seeking Marisol’s killer. It means more to me than you could possibly know.”
Cleansing breaths were needed as Remi heard Peter move around. It sounded like he was still in bed, a place Remi would very much like to be with him—his nose pushed into all of that hair, his arm wrapped around his waist, Peter’s slim legs trapped by his muscular ones.
“About that,” Remi described Jawahir, the new watchdog. “So, you have anything to do with our new team member?”
Peter was quiet.
“Look, there’s too much of a coincidence here.”
“Why would you make assumptions, Detective?” There was the rustle of bed sheets, the shift in Peter’s voice. Was he naked? His imagination was going to kill him as he tried to visualize Peter, reliving the kiss they shared, hungering for a taste of him again.
He sighed, focused on his reason for calling.
“Because, the very next day after I speak to you, the De La Cruz family has a very professional, very mercenary looking liaison representing them. It’s questionable, you see.”
“I can understand your concerns, Detective Devereaux, but life is filled with its coincidences, isn’t it? I can promise you I don’t know him.”
But, you do know something don’t you, Peter? For now, Remi would let it go. Having more eyes couldn’t hurt. In the meantime, he could pursue other interests.
“I’d like to see you again,” Remi said.
There was silence on Peter’s end.
“Let me make yesterday up to you. Take you to breakfast, Peter.” Remi wanted to see for himself he was fine, see him with his own eyes, and yes, walk his own eager fingers across his flesh like he was a blind man trying to read braille.
But, for now, Remi would take what he could get. This thing he had for Romanoff was driving him crazy, but he was defenseless to stop himself. “I’d pick you up or—”
“Hmm. I’ll be at Wild Eggs, downtown at eleven tomorrow.” Peter said.
“That’s it?”
“Should there be more, Remi?”
“No. No, not at all.” Peter agreed to go out with him. He’d take it, no questions asked. Well, not until he saw him in front of him again, at least.
“See you soon, Detective.”
Remi waited until he heard the phone click and then he smiled.
“Hey, what are you smiling about?” Kaden asked as he sat down in the seat across from him.
“Possibilities.”
Kaden nodded then glanced up, focus completely on his partner. “Hm, you’re taking this newfound gay curiosity to a different level.”
Remi laughed aloud. “Not a curiosity, not gay. Not giving this a label. I just want him. That’s all.”
“Labels, huh?” This was the moment—the one Remi anticipated. He never saw this for himself, wanting another guy. And, from his protests, Kaden hadn’t either.
The flack the lanky redhead received for adopting the lieutenant’s outsider as his partner was terrible enough. Could he handle being partnered with him now? Remi waited.
He would hate to lose his partner over a guy he just met, but the need to have Peter was strong. It hurt that he might lose his best friend until Kaden understood this was real. A moment, a few years. He wouldn’t blame him if—
“Okay.”
Okay?
“If we’re through talking about you, I’d like to compare facts now.” And that was it. Done. There was no awkwardness to Kaden’s movements, no furtive glances.
Instead, the only thing Remi read in Kaden’s eyes was acceptance. Clearing his throat, he and Kaden moved on to updates.
The professor had gone home late after class. Did she know her attacker? The door hadn’t displayed forced entry. So, there wasn’t a break-in unless the assailant was superior at what he did.
A professional, maybe? And if that was the case, why would a professional be hired? What had she, with an otherwise unblemished past, done that resulted in her dying this way? And from the damage, was there a chance there were two or more involved in her attack?
They’d been working a few other cases along with this one. And while the others saw progress, this one pummeled them with unforeseen roadblocks that popped up each time they went out.
“I’ve interviewed family members, friends. No one knew why someone would kill her or the meaning behind the message that was left.” Kaden drummed his fingers across his knee while he sat, his habit when he needed to put his thoughts together. “Monsters.”
“People are often afraid of the monsters in horror movies and scary stories,” Remi scoffed, “like those are the creatures to fear.”
“Right, television shows like The Walking Dead and Supernatural have people afraid to close their eyes at night. Mr. Rogers waving down the street is the real crazy who can’t wait to get you.”
Like the bastard that torched a teenaged girl alive from the inside out in Mississippi, there were too many atrocities to name and too many evil fuckers to catch.
“Truth. Méfiez-vous des deux monstres pattes.”
“Truth, and ditto on whatever you just said.”
Remi smiled. “Watch out for two-legged monsters.” Kaden nodded in agreement, his fingers drumming swiftly.
It was a terrible world sometimes, but each day was worth living. It was their job to make sure those who chose to live were safe. “All right, what’s next?”
Kaden looked toward the lieutenant’s office. “Well, we’re required to fill in our new friend.” Kaden tossed a pencil in the air. Kaden was always moving.
“Lieutenant says that it’s above his head. That we’re to keep the guy in the loop, and I think I have an idea why we’ve gained a shadow in this,” Remi responded, snatching the pencil out of the air before Kaden could catch it.
Laughing, he settled back in his seat, rotating the pencil in his hand.
“You do?”
“Yeah. I’ll discuss that with Peter Romanoff.”
“Really?” Kaden grabbed what looked like a ball from his desk but was a lump of flexible rubber. Squeezing it like he was kneading dough, he asked, “And when is that going to happen?”
“Sunday, around eleven, he and I will meet for lunch. Talk.”
“Fine.” The orange of the ball was a blur while Kaden tossed it back and forth. “You let me know how that goes.”
“That gives me time to take a trip to Bowling Green, question one of her colleagues employed at WKU.”
The ball went high and was caught easily. “Right, her husband mentioned her feeling as if she was being followed when she came in from Bowling Green after a fellowship meeting between the two universities. He’d blown off her worries.”
“Looks like the professor was on to something,”
Remi pondered.
“Yeah, in the beginning, the husband didn’t give it much thought and figured she was just paranoid. Right now, with losing his wife and thinking if they had taken it seriously...”
Kaden didn’t finish. The what ifs. Put all of the what ifs in a bag, shake ’em, and you would still come up empty.
What ifs amounted to nothing in their line of work, but everyone had them. Nothing to be done. Had to take life or death where it was right then.
“Yeah, so may be nothing. May be something.”
“Okay, you do that, and I’ll follow up with forensics. See if anything new has popped up.”
“But before any of that, I think going back to the house is worth a shot.”
“Got a feeling?”
“Yeah.” Remi had feelings, and there were many times when that intuition panned out.
Right now, they were screaming that he needed to take one more look.
Chapter Eleven
Remi looked at the wall in front of him, the blood’s scent ripe in the room, the message drowning out any sounds around him. He looked back toward the entrances, the archway that led to a sunken den, the other to an opulent kitchen. Someone loved cooking here, enjoyed preparing meals for the family—if the refrigerator big enough to walk in and the high-tech oven and stove at the center of the kitchen were anything to go by.
He glanced at the olive colored sofa decorated in blood spray, stains saturating the floor from Dr. De La Cruz’s body. The crime scene clean-up crew would have an intense job to do. He’d give the okay to start once he left.
Remi shivered.
“Let’s get out of here, Devereaux.” There was nothing else here that Kaden’s photographs missed. No clue that was going to just jump out at him, but he’d felt he needed another look. See for himself without a herd of people stomping through the room.
Get his bearings, he checked for any items possibly out of place, but he’d found nothing. He was finished here.
As Remi shut the door, locking it carefully, he felt a tingle between his shoulder blades. He was being watched.