The Werewolf Meets His Match (Nocturne Falls Book 2)

by Kristen Painter

  She climbed the steps to investigate. One was a vase holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers, all wrapped up in a cloud of tissue paper. A business card-size envelope was taped to the front. And her name was written on it.

  She pulled the note off and opened it.

  You’re prettier than the GTO. –Hank.

  She laughed, not only because he’d sent her more flowers but the message was so…him. That man.

  The second package was a basket covered in a gingham dish towel. She lifted the towel. Inside was a plate of cling-wrap-covered cookies. A note dangled from red ribbon tied to the basket’s handle. Had Hank sent her cookies, too? Maybe it was a thing the florist did.

  Hank had just mentioned that new shop. Delaney’s Delectables. Maybe these had come from there? She took a long look at the cookies. They seemed pretty normal. Could they have actually been made by a vampire baker? Talk about a first.

  She glanced at the note. The writing was a strange combination of flowery and shaky, like an old woman’s penmanship, which could totally belong to a vampire. Weren’t they all like a thousand years old? Ivy just barely made out what it said.

  Welcome to the neighborhood, Ivy.

  Hmm. If they weren’t from the florist, they might be from one of Hank’s neighbors. Wasn’t that nice? She glanced around at the other houses. To think someone had made cookies for her. She’d never in her life lived in a place where the neighbors did things like that. Maybe it was because Hank was the sheriff? Whatever the reason, it was sweet. She couldn’t wait to show Hank when he got home.

  She fixed the dish towel over the cookies, then snagged the basket by the handle and grabbed the vase of flowers in her other hand. She went into the house through the garage, putting the cookies and the flowers on the kitchen counter, then went back to wheel her bike inside and shut the garage door.

  She went to work making an orange pound cake. The recipe was her mother’s, except for the orange bit, which Ivy had added on her own. The simple ingredients—butter, flour, sugar, eggs and the orange zest—were about all Ivy had on hand unless she made another trip to the Shop & Save.

  When the batter was mixed and poured into a Bundt pan, something Bridget had no doubt added to Hank’s kitchen, Ivy slid the cake into the oven, then cleaned up. Job done, she went to her bedroom to study her slim clothing options and figure out what she had to wear that was presentable for a family dinner.

  As the aroma of the cake wafted upstairs, her stomach started to rumble.

  She glanced down at her torso. “Seriously? Lunch was enormous.”

  But that was the blessing and the curse of a shifter’s metabolism. After settling on the jeans she was currently wearing with the nicest top she’d brought, a simple silky tee in deep cobalt blue, she grabbed her phone off the bed and ran back downstairs to check on the cake.

  She set her phone on the counter and peeked into the oven. The cake was coming along nicely and making the whole house smell incredible.

  She turned around to grab her phone and found herself face to face with the basket of cookies as her stomach rumbled again.

  Hard to deny cookies. She pulled the dishcloth off. The note said welcome to the neighborhood, Ivy. Not Hank. He already lived here, he didn’t need to be welcomed. That meant technically the cookies were hers.

  They looked like chocolate chip. She took the plate out of the basket, lifted the cling wrap and sniffed. Definitely chocolate chip. Hard to go wrong with a classic.

  Her stomach growled in agreement.

  She checked the time. The pound cake had another forty-five minutes in the oven. Hank would be home in an hour and a half. Dinner wasn’t for another hour or so after that.

  Plenty of time to eat some cookies and not ruin her appetite.

  She put the plate down, then poured herself a big glass of milk and took a seat at the counter.

  She slipped one of the cookies from underneath the cling wrap and took a big bite. Crispy, chocolatey and…she stopped chewing. There was an odd aftertaste. Nothing she recognized.

  Numbness spread over her tongue and mouth.

  She ran to the sink and spit out the remnants of the cookie, but she’d already swallowed some.

  The numbness sank into her muscles. Her knees buckled. She reached into her back pocket for her phone, realizing she’d left it on the counter by the basket.

  The kitchen phone was closer. She just made it, collapsing onto the floor as her hand closed over the receiver and yanked it from the cradle. Her muscles were seizing, turning her fingers into stiff, useless digits, but she managed 911.

  “Hello, this is 911. What’s your emergency?”

  She opened her mouth and nothing came out, her vocal cords frozen as the poison anesthetized her. She banged the phone on the floor, hoping that would be enough. A second later, the phone dropped out of her useless hands.

  Darkness swept in around the edges of her consciousness, clawing at her. She clung to the will to live, focusing on the faces of the only two people who’d ever brought her happiness, Charlie and Hank.

  Then the poison took them, too.

  Hank!” Birdie’s shrill cry filled the reception area.

  He leaned around the side of his desk so he could make eye contact with Birdie through his open office door. “That phone has an intercom feature.”

  She pointed at him with the phone. “But you’re right there.”

  “Do I have a call?”

  “Yes.” She leaned the phone against your shoulder. “The com center just called with a possible prank 911 dialed from your address.”

  Hank jumped up. “Like hell it’s a prank.” Ivy wouldn’t do that. “I’m on my way, but radio Deputy Cruz and send him, too.” He grabbed his hat and raced to his duty car. Nothing in his gut said this was a prank call. Whatever was going on was intentional, he could feel it. The hang up call at his house, then the pictures of Charlie, now this? It wasn’t a coincidence.

  He made the drive to his house in record time. Nothing looked amiss. He opened the garage and went in just as Cruz pulled into the driveway behind him.

  Cruz jumped out of the car. “What’s going on?”

  Hank shook his head. “Do a perimeter check. I’ll secure the inside.”

  Cruz nodded and started around the house.

  Hank went through the laundry room and checked both directions before proceeding toward the kitchen. The house smelled good. She must have been baking. Had there been a kitchen fire? He didn’t smell smoke. “Ivy?”

  No response. Where was she? He put his hand on his duty weapon as he rounded the corner.

  And saw a body.

  Ivy was sprawled on the floor, the phone near her right hand.

  He yelled for Cruz as he went to his knees and scooped her into his arms. She was breathing. Barely. “Ivy, can you hear me?”

  Nothing.

  He squeezed the radio on his shoulder. “Get an ambulance here now.”

  The radio crackled with the dispatch’s affirmation.

  Foamy spittle dotted the corner of Ivy’s mouth. He leaned in and sniffed, then recoiled in recognition. Sweet and bitter.

  The bitter he recognized. Wolfsbane, an herb fatal to werewolves.

  Cruz came charging in. “What did you—I’m calling an ambulance right now.”

  “Already called in.”

  “I’ll get the first aid kit,” Cruz said.

  “No point,” Hank told him. “It’s wolfsbane.” He held her close, rage spiraling through him like a storm.

  Cruz sucked in a breath. “That’s fatal for your kind, isn’t it?”

  “Can be.” But not this time. Please not this time.

  Cruz knelt beside Hank. “There’s got to be something we can do.”

  “Get her to the hospital so they can pump her stomach, but that’s about it. Pray she didn’t ingest too much and wait it out.” Then he would find out who did this and kill them.

  “Any idea how this happened?”

  “So
meone did this to her, that’s how.” Hank forced himself to look at Cruz. “Find anything suspicious around the house?”

  “I was only halfway through when you called. I’ll go finish.” He stood and took a few steps but didn’t go very far. Hank couldn’t see enough of him to know what he was doing. Didn’t matter. Only Ivy’s survival mattered.

  “Boss, you might want to look at this.”

  Still holding Ivy, Hank got to his feet.

  Cruz pointed at the counter. “Was that stuff here already?”

  “I sent her the flowers, but I don’t recognize the rest of it.” Beside the bouquet from the florist was a red dishcloth-draped basket with a handle. Beside it sat a glass of milk and plate of cookies. The cling wrap was disturbed, and one partially eaten cookie lay next to the plate amidst a scattering of crumbs.

  Ivy’s phone was there, too. He grabbed that and stuck it in his pocket. “Get the crime scene kit. Bag the basket, the towel and the cookies.”

  Sirens wailed in the distance. Help was on the way.

  “You got it, boss.” Cruz ran out to the car to get his things.

  Hank bent his head to whisper in Ivy’s ear. “Stay with me, sweetheart. Fight it. Be strong.”

  Wolfsbane was deadly. Whoever had done this knew exactly what Ivy was. They had to also know that killing her would mean no marriage, and no marriage would mean no truce.

  But if Ivy didn’t make it, no truce was going to be a minor concern for whoever was responsible.

  Being number one on Hank’s hit list? Now that was something to worry about.

  Despite being joined by Bridget and Titus, Hank couldn’t sit. He paced the hospital waiting room, his body present, his mind elsewhere. Cruz had found a note attached to the basket when he’d bagged the evidence. The lab was running tests on the cookies and the note, but Hank had a feeling that, other than the presence of the wolfsbane they already knew about, nothing else would be found.

  It made him want to punch something. Repeatedly.

  “Sheriff Merrow?”

  Hank stopped pacing and turned. Ivy’s doctor stood before him. The man’s face was unreadable, sounding new alarms in Hank’s head. “How is she?”

  “Resting comfortably. We’ve pumped her stomach and given her a mild sedative, so she’ll most likely sleep until morning.”

  “I want to see her. And I’m putting a deputy on the door to make sure there’s not another attempt on her life.”

  “That’s fine, but as for seeing her…” The doctor shook his head. “She’s in no state to answer questions—”

  “I don’t want to question her, you idiot, I want to see her.”

  Bridget jumped up and grabbed Hank’s arm. “Maybe we could have this conversation outside of the waiting room?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she hustled them both out the door. “Doctor, what my brother is trying to say is he’s madly in love with that woman so if you could just give him a few minutes with his fiancée, he’d feel much better.”

  The doctor nodded slowly, like he was dealing with the slightly insane. “Five minutes. That’s it.”

  Bridget smiled broadly. “Five minutes. Awesome. Thank you.”

  The doctor left. She punched Hank in the arm and hissed, “Dude, you cannot get all wolfy like that in front of the humans in the waiting room. The doc might know we’re weres, but those people in there don’t. It’s one thing on the street, but no one thinks you’re pretending to be a character in here.”

  Hank glared after the doctor as Bridget dragged him back into the waiting room. “Like he can keep me away from her.”

  Bridget punched him again. “Are you even listening to me? Breathe, Hank.”

  Titus snorted and dropped the magazine he’d been looking at. “Does he ever?”

  “I’m listening.” Hank took a deep inhale and shot Bridget a pointed look. But breathing didn’t help. Nothing would help but seeing Ivy. “Stay here.”

  He went down the hall to the nurse’s station. “Ivy Kincaid’s room?”

  “Three twenty, down and to the left.”

  “Thanks.” He found her room and slipped in. The lights were dim, some monitor was beeping softly and the whole place smelled of disinfectant.

  Ivy lay in the bed closest to the window. The other bed was empty. For the first time since he’d met her, she looked fragile.

  It was a harsh reminder that for all their shifter strength and abilities, they were still vulnerable.

  He went to her bedside and took her hand, careful of the protruding IV. Her skin was hot and dry. Her fingers twitched, but her eyes stayed closed. “Can you hear me?”

  She nodded, a slow almost imperceptible movement, but a nod all the same. She followed it up with a soft murmur that might have been his name.

  He tightened his grip on her hand. “I’m here.”

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. You didn’t know.”

  A weak smile curved her mouth. Then the smile disappeared and her lids flickered halfway open. “Wolfsbane,” she muttered.

  He nodded. “I know. I’m going to figure out who did this to you.”

  Her eyes closed. “M’kay.” Then her breathing evened out and she was asleep.

  He bent and kissed her forehead, pressing his lips to her feverish skin. The need for justice pierced him like an iron rod, stiffening his resolve to find whoever had done this to her and make them pay.

  He left her to sleep and headed back to the waiting room, pinching his radio and calling Cruz. “I’m setting up a rotation in front of Ivy’s room. I’ll take the first shift. You and Blythe decide who’s next.”

  “You got it, boss,” Cruz answered.

  As Hank walked in, Bridget and Titus stood. Bridget spoke first. “How is she?”

  “Groggy and feverish. Asleep now. She knew it was wolfsbane. Obviously too late to do anything about it.”

  Titus growled softly. “Who the hell does that to someone?”

  “I plan on finding out.” Hank’s pocket buzzed. Ivy’s phone was going off. “Hang on.”

  The name Sam came up on the screen. He answered it. “Hello?”

  Silence for a second, then, “Sorry, I must have the wrong number.”

  “Were you trying to reach Ivy?”

  “Yes. Ivy Kincaid.”

  “Then you have the right number.”

  More silence. “Are you the Merrow she was sent to marry?”

  “I am. Who are you?”

  “I’m her brother. Where is she?”

  “Unable to come to the phone right now.” Her brother had interesting timing. “Is there a message?”

  “I’m in town. I need to talk to her.”

  In town. How convenient. “In that case, we’d better meet.”

  Hank gave Sam the address of the station, then hung up. He looked at Titus. “Can you stand guard on Ivy’s door until I get back? That was her brother. He’s in town. I need to go meet him and explain what’s going on. And find out why the hell he just showed up.”

  Titus nodded. “You got it.”

  Bridget wrapped her arms around herself. “I feel like I should be doing something, too.”

  Hank tipped his head. “Just keep your wits about you and your phone on in case I need you.”

  “You know it.”

  “I’ll walk you to your car.” He nodded at his brother. “Be back as soon as I can.”

  Hank saw Bridget safely to her vehicle, then took off for the station. Birdie was gone for the day and Cruz was at the front desk.

  He frowned as Hank came in. “Something change?”

  “Titus is standing guard. Ivy’s brother is in town. I told him to meet me here.”

  Cruz stood. “I can take over for Titus if you want. Give you some privacy.”

  Hank thought about it. “Okay.”

  Cruz grabbed his things and left. Sam showed up ten minutes later. He had Ivy’s coloring but not her delicate features
. He was almost Hank’s size. Apparently, the Kincaids were getting bigger.

  Sam looked Hank up and down as he came in. “You’re Hank Merrow.”

  Hank nodded, but didn’t move from where he stood in front of the reception desk, one hand on the desk, the other casually on his duty belt near the handle of his service weapon. “What brings you to town all of a sudden, Kincaid?”

  Apprehension tightened the muscles in Sam’s jaw. “What makes you think it’s all of a sudden? What’s going on? Why couldn’t Ivy come to the phone?”

  “Because someone tried to kill her with wolfsbane.”

  Sam’s mouth opened, and genuine shock registered in his eyes, giving Hank the sense that Sam might not be as bad as his father. Sam swore and glanced away. “I’m too late. Those mutt bastards. Is she going to be okay?”

  “Should be. What are you too late for?”

  Sam sighed. “Is there somewhere more private we can talk?”

  “My office.” Hank pushed off the desk and led the way.

  Sam closed the door behind him and sat as Hank settled into his chair. The other shifter eyed him warily. “When was she poisoned?”

  “Late this afternoon.”

  Sam nodded. “Anything else happen?”

  “Yes. Earlier. Some pictures were dropped off in an envelope with my name on them.” Hank watched Sam’s face. “Pictures of her and Charlie.”

  Sam’s brows lifted. “I guess you know now that’s her son.”

  “I already knew. She told me about him yesterday.”

  Sam frowned. “She told you about him?”

  “Did you think she wouldn’t?”

  Sam hesitated. “Our father made her swear she wouldn’t.”

  “Why?”

  Sam snorted. “Isn’t it obvious? He thought it would sour the deal.”

  Hank stared at the man as his opinion of the Kincaids and their tactics worsened. “It didn’t.”

  Sam sat back. “You like her.”

  “You sound shocked. You shouldn’t be. Your sister is a good person. But maybe that’s a rare breed of Kincaid.”