by Keri Arthur
René opened his eyes, a smile twitching his lips. “What
do you think I was doing?”
“And your mate?”
“Frightened, but okay.” He grimaced. “I doubt she’ll
ever dance with me again, though. Reckons I’m dangerous
to be around.”
“You’re dangerous to be around even when you’re not
getting shot.”
“True.” Amusement touched his mouth but quickly
fled. “I never heard them approach. Never smelled them.”
“Which means they probably had a long range rifle.
Where were you when it happened?”
“In the summer house.”
“Where, exactly?”
“Sitting on the seat, back to the outside fence, with a
wet and willing wolf sitting snugly on my lap.”
The shooter had to have been in the trees beyond the
wall. If he’d been in one of the trees close to the summer
house, René would surely have heard him. Or, at the very
least, smelled him. “Martin told me they found tracks.”
“Apparently. I was pretty out of it for a while there, so
I can’t really tell you much of what went on after I was
shot.”
“Then tell me what was going on between you and
Betise.”
Contempt was evident in René’s dark gaze. “That bitch
is nothing but trouble.”
“She claims you made promises you’ve failed to live
up to.”
His brother snorted. “The only promise I’ve failed to
keep was the threat to knock her out if she didn’t stop
harassing me.”
“So you’ve done nothing more than dance with her?”
“Three times. Which was two times too many, I’ve since
discovered.”
Duncan frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The woman’s certifiable. After the second dance she
was talking like we had a future together. By the third,
she was acting territorial and talking about having kids.”
“You never gave her reason to believe you might have
cared for her?”
René snorted. “Care for her? Good grief, have you
smelled the woman?”
“So why go back a second and third time?”
“Because my brains lie in my little head, not my big
one.” He shrugged. “She was there, she was willing, and
I’ve never been particular.”
None of them were, and one way or another, it had
gotten them all into trouble. “Was last night the last time
you danced with her?”
“Yes. And that’s when I told her she was delusional.”
He hesitated and frowned. “You know, she said something
weird.”
That didn’t surprise him. Betise had been saying a lot
of weird things lately. “What did she say?”
“She said the Sinclairs owed her mother, and by the
end of this moon phase, she intended to take what was
promised.”
Duncan frowned. What did they owe Iyona? As far as
he knew, she’d never been to any of the dances here. “Is
that all?”
“All I heard. I must admit, I tuned out before I walked
away.”
Someone rapped against the outside door. “Coming,
coming,” Martin called, then stuck his head through the
doorway. “If you don’t want to be seen, you’d better leave.”
Duncan nodded and glanced at his brother. “I’ll make
sure Zeke provides protection while you’re in the hospital.”
René raised his eyebrows. “You really think that’s
necessary?”
“Until we know what’s really going on, yes.” He spun
on his heel and headed back for the tunnel. After he’d
ensured the door was closed, he made his way towards
his father’s rooms. Zeke wasn’t there, but that wasn’t
surprising. As head of the pack, he’d have to be present
while the rangers were interviewing and taking samples.
Duncan picked up the phone and quickly dialed Lance.
“Wilton residence.” His friend’s cheery tones came
through loud and clear.
“Lance, Duncan.”
“Hey! I was just about to call you.”
“You found something?”
“Oh yeah. Discovered who else was in that little raiding
party over in the Bitterroot reservation. Would you be
surprised if I said one of the others had moved into Ripple
Creek just over a month ago?”
“With what has been going on, no.”
“Well, if everything I’ve dug up is true, this woman
has a pretty big axe to grind. Apparently, when she was
barely a cub she was promised to Tray Sinclair in a deal
that was supposed to strengthen business and blood ties
between the silver and golden packs over there.”
Duncan raised his eyebrows. Arranged marriages had
gone out with the Dark Ages, mainly because very few
worked. It was extremely rare for such a couple to be soul
mates, and for most wolves, commitment to anyone other
than their true mate was almost impossible.
“When Tray turned eighteen,” Lance continued, “he
decides he can’t stand the woman and reneges. To say
she didn’t take his rejection kindly is an understatement.”
In many respects, she had every reason to be angry.
But burning down the mansion and killing innocents went
beyond anyone’s idea of fair retribution. “So she led the
raiding party to the mansion?”
“Along with half a dozen drunken buddies, yes.”
“Did she get jail time?”
“Oh yeah. They threw the book at her. Got out after
ten years on good behavior, and apparently she is a very
nasty piece of work.”
“She got a name?” Not that he really needed to ask, as
he had a damn good idea who the woman was.
“She’s now known as Iyona Myna. Got married some
ten years ago, divorced two years later. I believe she has a
daughter from a previous relationship who’s also living in
Ripple Creek at the moment.”
“Betise.”
“That’s the one.”
Duncan rubbed his hand across his jaw. He now had
a possible suspect—two actually. Except for one thing.
The wolf attacking the women was silver.
“Don’t suppose you know what coat color she was?”
“No. But she’s from the golden pack, so you’d presume
gold.”
Logic would predict so, but nothing in this case was
going the way logic said it should. “Any idea who Betise’s
father is?”
“A couple of the gossip magazines suggested Iyona
was pregnant when Tray rejected her. They also suggested
Tray wasn’t the father. I haven’t found anything to confirm
or deny this yet.”
The timing was about right for Betise to be that child.
“Don’t suppose you found any interviews with Tray?”
“He died the night of the fire.”
So Iyona had gotten her revenge, even if she had killed
many innocents in the process. “Let me know if you find
anything else.”
“I will.”
Duncan hung up and leaned back in the chair. If Betise
> was indeed Tray Sinclair’s daughter, then her comments
about the Sinclairs owing both her and her mother made
a little more sense. But if she was after some form of blood
recognition or compensation, why not go through a DNA
test to prove paternity? What she was doing now—trying
to hook a Sinclair through marriage—was surely going
the long way around things. And while none of Zeke’s get
were related to the Bitterroot Sinclairs, there were others
in the pack who were. Moons, if she wasn’t careful, she
could very well end up mating with a half brother, though
he suspected it wouldn’t really bother her.
He glanced at the time and wondered how Neva was
doing. Was she keeping her distance like she’d promised?
He frowned and rose, walking to the window. The snow
was still falling, the night’s chill evident through the glass.
He hoped she wasn’t still out in it. Hoped she was warm
and snug in bed.
He closed his eyes and reached for her, but there was
nothing in the mental lines beyond a buzzing warmth.
Wherever she was, she was too far away to hear him. Worry
snaked through him, and he half wished he’d followed
the desire to demand she stay put in the house and not
run after Betise.
The door behind him opened, and Zeke stepped in.
“Thought you might be here,” his father said. “Martin
handed those samples he took from Betise over to my friend
in forensics. I suggest you mention them to our head ranger
when you talk to her.”
“I will.” Even though the mere fact they’d taken
samples wasn’t likely to impress Savannah.
“You talked to René yet?” Zeke asked.
“Yes. And I’ve talked to Lance.”
“Then you know about Iyona?”
“Yes.” Duncan closed the curtains then turned around
and leaned back. The chill of the glass was still evident
through the thick material. “Did you get anything of
interest out of Detrek?”
“Not much more than what Lance probably told you.
Apparently, Betise and Tray had a huge argument several
days before the night of promising. Detrek had no idea
what the argument was about, and from what I gather,
really didn’t care. He didn’t like Iyona and said he was
sorry he ever promised his son to her.”
“Did he say anything about Iyona being pregnant?”
Zeke nodded. “He said the bitch had been trying to
pass off a pup as Tray’s, but he’d sent her packing.”
“Surely Iyona could have proven it with DNA tests.”
“She could have, and the fact she didn’t even try speaks
volumes, in my book. Fact is, Tray was sterile. It was
apparently something they’d discovered only a few weeks
beforehand.”
“You’d have to hazard a guess that’s probably what
they argued about.”
“Probably.”
Zeke moved across to the bar and poured himself a
drink, then raised the bottle in query. Duncan shook his
head.
“I suspect Iyona or her bastard are probably
responsible for the attack on René, but what about the
murders? Do you think they’re related?”
Though he’d never seen Betise’s alternate shape, she
certainly had both the height and the wide shoulders to
suggest she’d be big in wolf form. But having the right
body type didn’t make her a murderer. “The biggest
problem is the fact that the murderer is a male—”
“That’s only being presumed,” Zeke cut in. “No one
knows for sure.”
“Savannah might.” After all, she’d survived an attack
by the killer, and she’d obviously seen something, or the
killer would not have gone after her in the hospital.
“Our head ranger isn’t likely to tell us anything,
especially when she considers our pack the main
suspects.” Zeke paused, black eyes glimmering with
sudden amusement. “Of course, she has a twin, and the
golden tribe share an extremely powerful psychic
connection. It’s very possible your Neva experienced her
sister’s attack and saw what her sister saw.”
Your Neva. The words seemed to echo through Duncan,
and he had to curb a smile, because in reality, there was
no reason to smile. She was his nothing until she looked
deep into her heart and acknowledged what lay between
them. And right now, she was too scared of his reputation
to even dare try.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted. “I’ll talk to her
when I see her again.”
Zeke took a drink, then said, “If your connection with
her is strong enough, you might be able to touch her mind
and share her memories.”
“That takes trust.”
Zeke’s half-smile was sympathetic. “Many bridges to
mend, huh?”
“Maybe a lifetime’s worth.” There was no bitterness in
his voice. With the benefit of hindsight, he did regret his
actions. And yet he knew, given the same circumstances,
the same information, and the chance to do it all again,
he’d probably make the same choices.
“What do you intend to do?”
He knew his father was talking about Neva rather than
the murders. He shrugged and moved away from the chill
of the windows. “I really don’t know. I’m committed for at
least another two months in Eagle. I can’t walk out on
Dave without giving him time to find and train a
replacement, and I need to find myself another job.”
“You have the ski lodge your mother left you. You could
always return and manage that. And I’ve heard that they’re
thinking about setting up a search and rescue team here
in Ripple Creek.”
He nodded. He’d heard the same from Dave. “I’ll worry
about it when I have our current problem solved. I’m
heading over to the hospital to talk to our head ranger,
then I’ll see if Neva remembers anything. I’ll let you know
if I get anywhere.”
“I gather Neva didn’t warn you about the rangers’ raid
tonight?”
“No.” Nor was he surprised. Her allegiance lay with
her sister, not with him. Maybe one day that would change,
but not today, or tomorrow or even next week.
Zeke took a long drink, then said, “I don’t know why
Savannah’s so damn convinced it’s one of us.”
“Because they found black hairs on several victims. It
wasn’t a human who killed those women. It was a wolf,
and we’re the only pack with black hair.”
“And silver coats. If the murderer was in wolf form
when he attacked, how could the rangers find black hair?”
“Why didn’t they find prints? Why were there no scents
to track?” Duncan shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe they
changed shape to gloat.”
“The bastard behind this is certainly sick enough to
do that.”
“That they are.” He frowned. Why had he said they
rather than he or she? “Are you arranging a guard f
or
René at the hospital?”
“Tye, Kane and I will be taking it in shifts. Right now,
we don’t dare trust anyone else. Just in case.”
Duncan nodded. “I don’t think you’ll have to do it for
long. I have a feeling this thing will be over with in the
next day or so.”
“I hope you’re right. And I hope we can avoid any more
damn killings.”
“Amen to that,” Duncan said and headed back to the
tunnels.
***
Neva lost the truck halfway down Main Street. By that
stage, her legs were aching, her lungs felt as if they were
on fire, and the snow she’d gulped down hadn’t done a
thing to ease the dryness in her throat.
She padded along the street, following the truck’s tire
tracks and hoping the snow didn’t decide to fall any
heavier, because then she’d certainly lose them.
The Blue Moon came into view, an oasis of warmth
and energy in the cold night. Music pumped, beating
through her blood like fire, and she momentarily wished
she was inside, dancing and laughing with everyone else.
But not alone.
She sighed. Admit it, she thought. The damn man has
gotten under your skin. And had she felt this deep an
attraction to anyone else but Duncan Sinclair, she would
not be dithering about her feelings for him. But she
couldn’t change years of conditioning, and he was
everything she’d been taught to avoid.
And while she should undoubtedly be doing as Ari
had advised—screwing that beautiful man’s brains out
and letting the future take care of itself—she just wasn’t
built that way.
Yes, her wolf might be free—but her wolf loved Ripple
Creek, loved working at the diner, and as much as she’d
toyed with the idea, really had no hankering to explore
the world. Her sister was the wild child in the family, not
her. And Savannah was probably a more suitable match
for Duncan than she’d ever be.
So why did the thought of him leaving tear at her so?
She didn’t know.
Didn’t want to know.
Coward, an inner voice whispered.
But better a coward than holding out her heart to a
man who’d long ago vowed to remain a lone wolf.
The tire tracks led her to the far edge of town then
veered left onto Heather Creek Road. Neva paused, trying
to catch her breath as she listened to the sounds of the