Hunter nodded, and Vassi gasped, trying to pull her hand back as he turned it over gently. “I just need to see,” he told her in a voice that surprised Ryder with its warm compassion. Vassi stared at him warily.
Ryder looked at his brother, then at the woman who held his heart. “Trust him,” he said softly. Hunter glanced at him, blinked and looked back down at her injuries. He closed his eyes, and Ryder watched as tendrils of light stretched from his brother’s hand, spreading out to gently caress Vassi’s charred skin. He appreciated the care his brother took, sensing the tenderness he wielded as the lightforce slid under her skin. Vassi’s eyes widened as the burns slowly disappeared from her hand, her skin returning to a healthy pink. She winced, just a little, as the stubs of the talons slowly edged out from underneath her nails. It took several minutes, but then Hunter covered her hand with his, his eyes opening. He winked at Vassi’s expression of surprise.
“I know you can self-heal, but I’m faster. I’ve taken away the pain,” he told Ryder. “The talons are gone on this hand. She’ll need an operation to replace them, but she’s fine until then.”
Vassi sat up, and Ryder leaned down to kiss her hungrily, his relief at her recovery quickly turning to something hotter as she returned his kiss.
Then Hunter cleared his throat. “Ah, don’t mind me. I just live here.”
Ryder pulled back, regretfully, but smiled at Vassi. Her cheeks were pink, and her teeth flashed in a smile, but he could still see some shadows in her eyes.
She’d heard, he realised. She knew about Debbie.
And yet she’d still flown through that window like an avenging angel. God he loved this woman.
“Thank you,” he murmured. She wasn’t supposed to get hurt. He’d tried to leave her, tried to protect her, but she’d followed him. “I thought I fired you.”
“You did, but seeing as I didn’t take any notice of you the first couple of times you did it, I thought why bother now?” She arched an eyebrow.
Hunter chuckled. “Oh, the vamp has sass.”
Arthur Armstrong stirred, and Vassi reached out with her other hand, a talon sliding out as she scratched the man along the neck. A scarlet trail of blood seeped over the collar of his snow white tux. He moaned.
Hunter frowned. “Whoa. And claws.”
“Blood loss will weaken him. Don’t worry, it’s not fatal, but I don’t want anymore lightning shows until we can properly restrain him.”
“Good point. I’ll go get the irons.” Hunter rose from the floor and walked from the room.
“Irons?” Vassi looked up at him in enquiry.
Ryder nodded. She was being professional, and despite their kiss, just a little distant. She was hurt.
“Yeah. Silver binds vampires and werewolves. Iron binds a light warrior.”
Hunter returned. He was wearing gloves, and he worked quickly to attach the manacles to his father’s wrists and ankles. Even from here, Ryder could hear the sting as the metal touched the man’s skin, and felt no regret.
Vassi rose to her feet, her legs long and sexy in those tight jeans he liked to see her in. Then again, he liked to see her out of them, too. She folded her arms, and he frowned, again sensing the distance between them.
“So, who killed Jared Gray?”
Chapter Nineteen
“He did.”
Vassi arched an eyebrow as each brother pointed to the other. The men looked at each other in surprise. Great. She inhaled, then exhaled slowly, expanding her awareness and letting her gift rise.
Hunter put his hands on his hips. “You think I killed an alpha prime?”
Ryder frowned. “It reeks of you. Unlike me, you use wolfsbane in your surgery. You blew up the apothecary, and your morals are questionable.”
Hunter grimaced. “I may have killed a witch, too.” He sighed. “I feel bad about that, actually. You know me, though. It’s such a struggle being good when being bad feels so good.”
Vassi blinked. Hunter’s feedback was warm. He actually regretted what he’d done at the apothecary, despite his effort at levity. She looked toward the doorway. Dave and Melissa were still MIA, although she knew they were responsible for the flame vacuum. She could scarcely believe it had taken two light warriors and two witches to knock out a warrior prime. For some reason, though, the witches had decided to remain hidden. After what Hunter had done to Ryder, she wasn’t going to alleviate his conscience.
“But I didn’t kill the wolf.” He shrugged. “Why would I?”
Vassi’s eyes narrowed. Again, she sensed warmth. She didn’t understand. She was so sure Hunter was responsible for this whole mess.
“Woodland Pack was fed instructions to deliver the tainted supplies to my clinic. I know they come to your clinic for treatment. I know you can compel, and I saw Rafe Woodland’s teeth. The work he’s had done would cost far more than they can afford, with all the territorial squabbles they have going on.” Ryder glared at his brother.
Vassi turned her attention to Hunter, who held up a finger. “I don’t compel,” he said. “I dreamwalk. There is a difference.”
“And you put people to sleep in your clinic,” Ryder pointed out. “Plenty of opportunity to tip-toe through those dreams and plant suggestions.” He waved his fingers.
Hunter arched an eyebrow. “I don’t tip-toe through dreams,” he said. “I drift. But I didn’t drift through Rafe Woodland’s dreams.” He shuddered. “Rafe Woodland is not my patient.”
There. A tendril of cool deceit.
“What do you know, Hunter?” she asked coolly. Perhaps it was time to try different questions. She stretched her gift out, teasing at his mind. Damn it, she wished she had her lipstick.
Hunter eyed her suspiciously. “I know you’re a strange one.”
She smiled. “If Rafe Woodland wasn’t your patient, whose was he?”
Hunter nodded. “My father’s.”
Vassi nodded at the warm sensation that went with that answer. “So while Rafe Woodland was a patient at the clinic, he came and saw your father, not you?”
Hunter dipped his head. “Correct.”
Ryder frowned. “Then why attack the witch? Why destroy her apothecary?”
Hunter gave a mock cringe. “This is embarrassing,” he said, then sighed. “I did it for you, bro.”
Vassi’s eyebrows rose. Wow. Ryder’s brother was … wow. She eyed the man she couldn’t stop thinking about, couldn’t stop this huge tide of emotion that welled up inside her at the mere sight of him. Apparently she’d fallen in love with the only sane member of the family. Thank God.
Ryder’s face showed perfect confusion. “I don’t follow.”
Hunter leaned against the desk. “You said it yourself. I already have my supply of wolfsbane, and I know you don’t normally use the stuff. When Gray’s autopsy reports came out—”
“How did you get the autopsy reports?” Vassi asked. “They haven’t been released to the public yet.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “Like I’m actually going to wait for that to happen.” He shrugged. “I know people who know people. Let’s just leave it at that.”
Vassi pursed her lips as she motioned for him to continue.
“So, I figured you had to order the wolfsbane from somewhere, and it wasn’t hard to find the one supplier in town who could give you that highly concentrated form of the poison. So I paid her a visit.”
“You destroyed her business,” Ryder exclaimed. “Why?”
Hunter scowled. “She was peddling poisons to anyone who would pay for them. At least when I administer it, I monitor it. She hands it over willy-nilly. Do you have any idea how many patients come into my clinic from accidental or intended poisoning? She sells it to a housewife one day, whose werewolf husband winds up in my surgery the next. She might think she’s doing a service, but she’s basically putting a loaded gun into the hands of her customers.”
Ryder folded his arms, his look expectant.
“Fine, and maybe I thought if I destro
yed any record of you purchasing the poison, then perhaps your fancy-pants lawyer here could get you acquitted.”
Vassi’s jaw dropped at the warmth that washed over her. “Good grief, you’re telling the truth.”
Hunter’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at her with a new wariness. “Of course I’m telling the truth.”
She glanced at Ryder. His expression was just as shocked. Then he held up a hand as he tried to take a calming breath. “You do realise that you destroyed any evidence that could prove my innocence?”
Hunter grimaced. “Oops. My bad.”
Vassi watched Ryder as he stalked away a short distance, shaking his head and muttering. She put her hands on her hips and looked down at her toes, her thoughts racing. “Okay,” she said quietly. She looked at Ryder, his expression stony. “I know you’re not guilty of killing Jared Gray,” she said, then turned to Hunter, “And you’re guilty of stupidity and protecting your younger brother—” she hesitated. An over-inflated sense of protection seemed to run in the family. “So if neither of you actually killed Jared Gray, who did? Who stands to gain if Ryder goes to prison?”
Ryder frowned. “If convicted of murder, I’d be stripped of my assets,” he said. “So Hunter would get my share of this house as part of an inheritance from my mother, along with the rest of my trust fund …”
“Trust fund?” Vassi frowned. “Why am I only just hearing about this now?”
Ryder gestured to Hunter. “Our mother was wealthy in her own right. We each have a trust fund that matures when we both reach thirty.”
“Well, you’re nearly twenty-eight,” Vassi said. She remembered reading it in her file. She turned to Hunter. “When do you turn thirty?”
“Next month.”
“Who is the executor?”
Both men looked down at the man at their feet. Arthur opened his eyes to slits.
“This is so painful, listening to you all muddle your way through this,” he muttered. “Kill me now.”
Vassi crossed over to him and hunkered down on her heels. “Did you kill Jared Gray?”
His eyes widened for a moment. “No.”
Cold, bone-chilling, mind-numbing cold.
She looked up at Ryder. “He’s lying.”
Ryder chewed his cheek, slowly nodding. “I see.”
“I don’t,” Hunter said. “I really don’t.”
“Well, if I had my lipstick …” she said meaningfully.
Ryder shook his head. “No. Not with my dad. No way in hell.” He shuddered, then shook his hands and arms as though someone had walked over his grave. “Ugh.”
“Explain this to me. Dad killed Gray. Why?” Hunter folded his arms across his chest.
“How did you finance your clinic?” she asked Ryder, and he closed his eyes as realisation hit.
“I borrowed against my trust fund, with a caveat. The loan has an automatic overriding draw once the fund matures. Any outstanding debts are paid before the rest of the fund is awarded to me.”
“So you were already chipping away at the money.”
“But I’m older. Why didn’t he try to kill me?” Hunter asked, half-curious, half-petulant.
“Are you seriously upset that he didn’t try to destroy your life first?” Ryder asked in exasperation.
“You’re right. There are times when being the favoured son sucks. I should enjoy this moment.”
“Have you touched your trust fund?” she asked Hunter, and he shook his head.
“See, he had another month to worry about you. Your brother, on the other hand, was already spending his inheritance. If Ryder died, all the money would go to you, and he had another month to organise your death, thus receiving both funds. Do you have your own will?”
Hunter closed his eyes briefly as he shook his head, then opened them to stare at his father. “You’d be my only living relative. Did you plan to kill me, too, old man?”
“No,” Arthur grunted from the floor. “It’s not true, boys, don’t listen to her.” He opened his eyes and tried to sit up, hissing as the iron cuffs singed his skin.
Vassi shivered at the arctic blast when she met the man’s narrowed gaze. “He’s lying.”
“So he manipulated his patient to murder an enemy pack leader and make it look like I did it. If I went to jail, he’d get my inheritance. If the lycans managed to kill me before my trial, he’d get my inheritance.”
Hunter gazed down at his father. “That is seriously fucked up.”
“And thinking each of you was guilty of murder not once, but twice, isn’t?” Vassi asked pointedly. Both brothers looked at each other sheepishly. She shook her head and stalked over to what looked like a phone cord. She lifted it, following the trail around splintered furniture until she found the phone.
“I’m calling the police. They can take him in.”
Hunter hunkered down to meet his father’s eyes. “You are no longer my father. I am no longer your son. Like Ryder, I’m taking Mother’s name.” He smiled, baring his teeth. “So your family, the one you wanted to be strong and rule your precious empire? It no longer exists. The Armstrong name dies with you.”
Arthur squeezed his eyes closed as Hunter stood up. “Seriously fucked up,” Hunter muttered. He turned to Vassi. “You’re going to trust the Reform Court with him?” He shook his head. “He’ll lie, he’ll compel, he’ll weasel his sorry arse out of jail.”
Vassi smiled as she dialled the local police number. “They’ll take the appropriate measures, and I’m sure a truthseeker can sort out fact from fiction. I happen to know a good one.”
“Ehhh,” Hunter said, sounding like a game show buzzer. “Conflict of interest. Bond mates can’t represent each other in court,” he said gesturing between her and Ryder.
She frowned, as did Ryder.
“You know she’s a truthseeker?”
“What do you mean, bond mate?”
Hunter smiled as he pointed to Ryder. “Uh, it was fairly obvious, the way her eyes go all black when she says liar,” he replied, deepening his voice for dramatic effect on the last word. He then turned to Vassi, his eyes widening as his gaze darted back and forth between the two. “You didn’t tell her? Hell, the link is so fresh and sparkly, it’s damn near blinding,” he said, then gave a throaty chuckle. “Oh. Wow. You two have a lot to talk about.” He clasped his hands together. “Well, this is awkward.” He grimaced, then gestured over his shoulder. “I’ll uh—um,” he tapped his watch. “I need to be … somewhere else,” he whispered, then backed towards the door.
Ryder glared at his retreating brother. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
“Give me the good news, brother. I think I need it, right about now.”
“The good news is that the witch survived. The bad news is—the witch survived.” Ryder shook his head. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Vassi watched as Dave and Melissa stepped into the room, each placing a hand on Hunter’s shoulders. Hunter’s eyes rolled back and he sagged, unconscious. Dave caught him, then hoisted him over his shoulder.
“Damn witches,” Arthur spat out.
“Don’t hurt him,” Ryder called out, stepping toward them.
Melissa turned and eyed him for a moment, her expression solemn. “He almost killed me. Tribal law says almost killing him is a fair response.”
“He’s a douche, but he’s not evil. I can’t let you hurt him.”
Melissa’s eyes darkened with anger. “And I can’t let him get away with what he did to me. He needs to be punished. Consider this me calling in that I.O.U.”
Ryder ran his hand through his hair in frustration, and Vassi could sense his dilemma. A man of integrity, he had to honour his debt, but this request would rub against his protective instincts. His honour finally won out, and he reluctantly nodded.
The witches left as Vassi quietly murmured instructions over the phone. She kept her eye on Ryder, who now looked around the room, resigned to the decimation of his home, of his family.
He walked over to her, his hips swaying in that sexy way of his, his blue stare intense. He detoured via his belligerent father, and his fist shot out so fast it was almost a blur as it connected with the older man’s chin. Arthur’s head snapped around, and he slumped to the floor, unconscious. Again.
“Yeah, that feels better,” he muttered, shaking out his hand.
He cocked his head, then stepped closer to her. He rubbed her arms. “We need to talk.”
* * *
Hours later, they sat in the reception parlour. Ryder sat on the sofa opposite Vassi. She’d insisted on sitting across from him, the fire roaring in the great hearth. The police had left, dragging a still-unconscious Arthur Armstrong out to a prison van. Ryder made sure to brief them on the proper handling of his father, without having to tell them exactly what he was. He may have cut ties with his father, but he was still a light warrior. Secrecy on that subject was drilled into him from birth, and not quite so easy to shed. One slip, though, and Hunter was right, his father would weasel his sorry arse out of prison.
He leaned back in the sofa, a glass tumbler of scotch in his hand. Vassi had accepted his offer of one, but had yet to take a sip. He sighed. Her legs were crossed, her arms folded, her expression remote.
“I’m sorry,” he began.
She arched an eyebrow. “For what? For firing me in some transparent move to keep me out of trouble because you don’t trust me? For not mentioning that you happened to love some paragon of virtue who is so high on a pedestal she may as well be a saint? Or for this bond mate thing? What is that, by the way?”
He slid off the lounge and knelt at her feet. “I’m so sorry, for all of that.”
“Fine. Consider all forgiven. I’m going home, because once the news report breaks, lycans won’t be stalking my home.” She made to get up, but he put his hand on her knee, forestalling her.
Tribal Law Page 17