by Vella Day
“You shot something.”
That was preposterous. “I don’t even own a gun.”
“I know, but gunshot residue doesn’t just appear on your hands unless you fire a weapon.”
The words swam around in her head, but she was having a hard time putting the pieces together. “Where would I have gotten a gun? Search my car and my house. You won’t find one.” Hysteria had taken root.
Kalan stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Come with me.”
“Where?” she snapped as her heart screamed for release.
“You need to call a lawyer.”
“Are you arresting me?” This was a nightmare.
Kalan’s lips thinned in a grimace. “I don’t have a choice. You have the victim’s blood on your shirt and GSR on your hands.”
“I’m not guilty, or at least I don’t think I am,” Blair said. She had been so sure that all of this had been a mistake. Now she was beginning to doubt everything.
“We’ll figure it out. Come on.” Kalan escorted her down the hallway. When they arrived at Interrogation Room number 3, he pushed open the door.
“Why are we here?” Blair couldn’t help but question everything.
“I’m hoping you’ll remember something that will prove you were an innocent bystander.” He didn’t sound as if he believed her, and that shook her confidence to the core.
As if on autopilot, Blair stepped inside the dark, cold room. The small windowless area contained one plain brown table like the ones she’d eaten at in elementary school. Two chairs were pressed up against one side of the table while a lone chair sat across from them. Kalan motioned she take the single chair.
“I don’t have a phone to call a lawyer,” she said. “Can you call Jillian for me?” The lawyer’s brother, Dalton, was Kalan’s partner. Jillian was a white tiger shifter who also was a friend.
“Sure. I’m also going to call Judge Hollars to see if he can set bail. I don’t want you to spend any time in jail.”
Her hope soared. “Do you think he will do that?”
“The Murdoch name carries a lot of weight in this town.”
To the shifter community maybe, but the humans had no idea they helped guide their Clan. “Thank you.”
“Sit tight. It may be a while before I get ahold of him.”
“I love you!”
“Love you back, and I promise I will do everything to find out what happened. Try not to worry.” Kalan shot her a brief smile, but it didn’t erase the worry on his face. As soon as he left, the monster of doubt poked out its ugly head, making her want to vomit and hide away forever—but she wouldn’t. Blair Murdoch was a fighter.
*
Ronan Laramie stood in front of his boss’ desk, disturbed by the unexpected and delightful news. “Are you sure Timothy Delahart is dead?”
Connor McKinnon leaned back in his chair. “Yes. I just spoke with Dalton Garner, Kalan’s partner at the sheriff’s department.”
“How could a bullet kill a werewolf though?” Ronan had been shot a few times, but thankfully he’d never been hit in a vital spot. It was why his wolf had no trouble healing him.
“It must have been a clean shot to the throat.”
“There goes that bounty.” While the reward money would have come in handy, he was glad the drug dealing, human trafficker was off the streets. “Do we have any idea who killed him?”
“Nope, but Kalan and Dalton are on the case. They’ll find him.”
“I’m thinking it was a shifter. A human would have aimed for the heart.”
“Makes sense. So far no witnesses have come forward, and until we get a copy of the autopsy, we won’t know if there was any evidence of a mauling.”
Ronan didn’t know why he should care who killed the scum, but he didn’t like loose ends.
Connor’s cell rang, sending Ronan’s contemplative mood running for cover.
His boss glanced at the phone. “It’s Kalan. Maybe he’s learned something,” he said as he swiped a finger across the phone. “Yeah?” He listened for a good fifteen seconds. “No way! Why didn’t you call me sooner?” Connor dragged a hand down his jaw looking as if he’d been told someone had died—someone important. “And Blair remembers nothing?”
Blair? Ronan’s wolf awoke with a start. As much as he’d tried these past two weeks to deny that Blair Murdoch was his mate, as sure as he was sitting there in Connor’s office, he knew that she was. He hadn’t spoken to her since the party when Connor and his mate had announced their good news, but Ronan had thought of nothing else but her since then.
Connor asked Kalan a few more questions and then disconnected. His boss stabbed a hand through his hair, looking off to the side and saying nothing.
Ronan pulled out the chair in front of his desk and sat. “What happened?”
Connor blew out a breath. “Blair has been arrested for Delahart’s murder.”
He almost laughed, but his boss’ serious nature stopped him. “That’s ridiculous. Not only is Blair not a killer, she never would have had any dealings with Delahart. The man was a drug dealer and a human trafficker, to name a few of his less than pleasant occupations.”
Connor held up a hand. “You don’t have to convince me, but she had his blood on her shirt and GSR on her hand.”
Ronan’s pulse shot off at a gallop. There had to be an explanation. “What does Blair say happened?”
“She remembers nothing about the event.”
“What do you mean?”
Connor shrugged. “She has a memory lapse during the time of his death.”
“Did someone put a spell on her?”
“I was wondering the same thing. It was either that, or the trauma of seeing someone die caused the memory loss. I hope it’s just a spell. At least that will wear off at some point.”
“Maybe she was drugged.”
“Preliminary tests showed she wasn’t. If she experienced something traumatic, she might never recover. Blair is the sensitive type,” Connor said.
Ronan’s mind jumped to a dark place. “You don’t think someone attacked or possibly raped her and she fought back, do you?” He could barely say that word. His nails sharpened, and hair sprouted on his face.
“Calm down.”
Ronan’s immediate and visceral reaction would be hard to explain if Connor questioned him. “I can’t calm down.”
“No, she wasn’t raped. She was checked for that as well.”
The air shot out of his lungs, and his nails and hair retracted. He then asked, “So now what?”
Connor studied him. “You seem unusually interested. I didn’t realize you knew Blair that well.”
“I don’t, but I know what it’s like to be accused of a crime you didn’t commit.”
“I get it.”
“Do you think I should speak with her? I knew Timothy Delahart better than anyone. If Blair had any interaction with the man, I’d like to know what he said. It might help figure out who really did kill him.” Ronan was grasping at straws.
“Let’s wait and see what the judge says. Kalan is trying to set bail now.”
Ronan didn’t want to wait, but he would—for Blair’s sake.
*
“What do you think happened?” Blair’s lawyer, Jillian Garner asked.
Blair was tired of the same old questions. “I don’t know how many times I have to say it; I don’t remember anything! Nada.” She hadn’t meant to raise her voice. Her lawyer was only trying to help. “I’m sorry. Since the tests indicate I wasn’t drugged, all I can come up with is that someone must have cursed me or something that suppressed my memory.”
“It’s a good theory. Do you remember any incantations, arm waving, burning candles?”
Now she wished she had paid better attention to what her Wendayan friends had told her about spells. Her former roommate, Ainsley, had been no help since she hadn’t embraced her shifter or Wendayan side during their school years. “No. No candles, no funky scen
ts, nothing. I’d remember if I was put into a trance, right?”
“Spells don’t always mean a trance. A capable black witch can do things to you that you aren’t even aware are happening,” Jillian said and then pressed her lips together in a sympathetic pose. “When you get out of here, maybe you should contact Ophelia. I’ve heard she can work wonders in reversing spells—or at least identifying who put the spell on you.”
Blair had heard that too, but with her luck, the spell would be one that couldn’t be broken. “I’ll do that.”
Jillian pushed back her chair. “I’ll check with Kalan on the status of your release. Don’t worry, we’ll get it all straightened out.”
The question Blair hadn’t wanted to ask finally broke free like water pushing against a weak dam, and her body shook at the implication. “What if I did kill him?” she asked, her words gushing out.
Jillian’s eyes widened. “Don’t even think like that. Your brother will investigate whether you’ve had any contact with the deceased. If you haven’t, we’ll go with the argument that you were framed. The real killer will have left a clue somewhere, and our brothers will find out who he is.”
Another glimmer of hope surfaced, and Blair stood and hugged her friend. “Thank you.”
Jillian nodded and then left. Once alone, the black veil of uncertainty descended. Perhaps the real question she needed to ask herself was whether she was capable of such a crime. Someone had grabbed her—that much was clear—but had there been a struggle? Would she have been strong enough to wrestle the gun from his hand and shoot him?
She dropped back down onto the chair and buried her head in her arms. If anyone up there is listening, please help me.
Chapter Three
‡
Worrying about Blair had kept Ronan from sleeping last night. As much as he wanted to see her, to tell her he would do everything in his power to find the killer, for her sake, he’d sit tight.
Ronan downed the rest of his strong morning coffee, locked up the guesthouse that belonged to Connor’s parents, and headed out. As soon as he had a moment, he’d look for a place of his own. As much as he appreciated the free accommodations, he was here to stay now that he’d found his mate. He didn’t want to take advantage of their hospitality.
As he drove into work, Ronan avoided taking the road by the sheriff’s department since he’d be too tempted to stop and see Blair. If he did talk to her, he’d want to let her know she wasn’t alone and then blurt out they were mates by mistake. Given her state of mind, most likely it wouldn’t go over well.
Ronan could still recall that first moment when they’d locked eyes. It was as if a thirty-five year old engine that had been sitting idle its whole life had finally been plugged in. Sparks flew and the much-needed oil had breathed life into the machine. His body’s reaction was similar. Blair’s had not been. His bones had cracked, and his teeth had sharpened, but he didn’t get the sense that Blair had a clue they were fated to be together. He found it incredibly strange and quite unnerving that she didn’t. Wasn’t every shifter supposed to know who they were destined to be with?
His father had told him several stories about shifters, but too many of the tales contradicted each other, so maybe he’d been misinformed. Discussing sex with his fellow shifters wasn’t something he even considered since his Clan in Vermont hadn’t been the sharing type.
Ronan was, and probably always would be, a loner. It was safer that way. His sister claimed the fact he’d accepted the job at McKinnon and Associates meant he was changing, but he wasn’t so sure. He took the job partly because Lexi was the only family he had left, and he wanted to take advantage of the fact she now lived in Silver Lake.
Before he could solve that age-old problem of mating and each party’s differing reactions, he arrived at the office. Now that Timothy Delahart was no longer alive, Ronan’s reason for coming to Silver Lake no longer existed.
As he walked past Connor’s open office door, his boss motioned him in. Kalan was inside, and a sledgehammer went to town inside his chest. His visit most likely had to do with Blair.
“Kalan,” Ronan said, trying to keep the panic from his voice. They shook hands.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Kalan said. “Have a seat. Connor and I have something to discuss with you.”
“What is it?”
“Judge Hollars is out of town, so I couldn’t see him in person to ask about bail. I did however contact the district attorney who is a—”
“Kalan,” Connor demanded. “Get to the point.”
“Sure. The district attorney contacted the judge for me. Hollars is letting Blair out on bail under one circumstance. She must be supervised. For some reason, the judge seems to think she’s a flight risk. The man’s a dick, but at least he agreed to bail.”
“We’d like you and Jackson to watch over her,” Connor added.
Ronan’s heart sprinted. As much as he wanted to be near her, it would be pure torture to be so close and not touch her. “Why me?”
“You don’t have any cases right now,” Connor shot back.
That was true. He mentally clicked through the schedules of the other team members, and they each had one or two cases they were investigating. “When is she being released?”
“The order came in an hour ago. She needs someone to pick her up,” Connor said. “How about bringing her here?”
“Why here?” His mind wasn’t operating on all cylinders. His wolf was too busy rejoicing.
“Since I’m convinced Blair is innocent, I’m going to assume the worst happened to her—that she witnessed something she shouldn’t have, and the real killer wants to make sure she doesn’t say anything.”
His protective instincts shot into high gear. “Got it. I’ll make sure she remains safe. I’ll pick up a few things from the guesthouse so I can stay here at night. I’ll sleep on the sofa in my office.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Connor said. “No one can breach our security. Even if they did, he’d never find the switch that opens the panel to the safe room.”
“I’d feel better if Blair had someone to talk to if she has a nightmare.” Ronan probably should have come up with a different reason, but that was the truth.
“Suit yourself. Jackson will be keeping an eye on her too, but with you around, he can spend more time with his mate. If you need to do something, Jackson can take over the protection detail.”
Ronan pushed back his chair. “I’ll head out now.”
Kalan stood. “I’ll follow you. I need to make sure there isn’t a glitch with the paperwork.”
They both left by the front door. All during the drive, Ronan battled with his inner animal. Because Blair didn’t know him very well, and might not be comfortable around him, he’d have to act totally professional. One hint that he wanted her and she might complain to her brother—an event he wanted to avoid at all costs. The poor woman had enough to deal with besides a horny mate.
That’s not true, his wolf shot back. She’ll need to be comforted after her ordeal. She’ll need a shoulder to cry on.
She’s strong. Blair won’t appreciate anyone feeling sorry for.
You’re just saying that so you can keep your distance. You’re a chicken shit.
Ronan highly disliked it when his wolf argued with him—especially when he was right. Ronan couldn’t blame his wolf for his antsy attitude. Ronan had denied his baser needs for far too long.
Kalan waited for him while he parked. Ronan rushed up the department steps where Kalan led him inside. “Stay here while I check to see if all the paperwork is in order. Then I’ll escort Blair out.”
“Sure.” Ronan paced the large entranceway, trying to calm his libido. Twice, he’d had to hide his arms behind his back because fur had sprouted on his hands. Only a few of the employees were shifters, and exhibiting any signs of being a werewolf would be disastrous.
Ronan needed to get a grip. Ever since he’d found Blair, he’d had no more control than a r
andy teenager. Hell, he stalked killers and thugs for a living. One woman shouldn’t throw him for a loop—but she did.
A few minutes later, voices sounded. It was her voice—sweet yet strong. Even before Blair came into view, his body turned traitor.
Down boy, he told his randy wolf. Remember, no woman has ever wanted our lifestyle.
It was why he’d kept to himself all these years. Lexi said his unkempt beard was his way of pushing women away. He wanted to believe it was his way of waiting for his mate to walk into his life.
“Ronan is going to make sure you stay safe,” Kalan told his sister as he escorted her near—close enough for her delicate scent to seep into his pores—a scent that translated to beautiful colors of pinks and purples. He closed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to block out her scent, but he failed the moment he opened them again.
Blair looked over at him and pressed her lips together. That wasn’t the reaction he was looking for. Damn. There hadn’t even been a flicker of joy or lust or recognition that they belonged together. No doubt these next few weeks were going to be worse than swimming unarmed in a sea full of sharks.
*
While Blair was relieved the judge had granted her bail, the idea of being kept in a room in the basement of her brother’s workplace didn’t sit well with her at all. The one consolation was that she’d been given permission to go to work. She would cherish the hours of being surrounded by her friends and patients.
Ronan was staring at her, looking fierce though a bit uncomfortable. Say something. “I’m sorry you got the short straw and have to play bodyguard.”
His eyes lit up for a moment before the flame extinguished. “I’m happy to do it.”
He looked about as happy as a wolf caught in a steel trap. He shouldn’t complain though. Life imprisonment wasn’t looming over his head.
Kalan placed a hand on her shoulder. “Do whatever Ronan says. Remember, it’s possible you might be the next target.”