by T. F. Walsh
He cleared his throat. “Whenever you catch your breath, West Sixteenth Street.”
• • •
The shop Ryan suggested was located in a shack of a building on the highway just outside the city. It specialized in military weaponry, but they had a variety of novelty items as well.
“Bullets,” Adams muttered hotly, glaring through the glass display case at the selection of knives.
Lydia exchanged a glance with Ryan, clapped the agitated sergeant on the back and smiled at the clerk. The lanky man would look more at home in a pair of overalls than the camouflage vest that seemed to be the store’s uniform. Strawberry–blonde curls topped his head, with the same colored scruff lining his square jaw. His skin was reddened and flakey, as if he’d spent too much time in the sun recently. He only needed a straw hat and a sprig of hay in his teeth. To top it all off, the nametag on his vest read ‘Billy Bob.’
“Hi. Uh … ” She paused, simply unable to call him Billy Bob. “I would like some silver bullets for a display case. We’re setting up a retirement gift for one of the officers down at the precinct.”
“Got a silver–plated Glock twenty-two to go with them,” Adams added, looking up from the case of knives.
“That’s a new one,” Billy Bob said. “Most of the time, folks ask for silver bullets to go werewolf huntin’.”
“Werewolves?” Lydia forced an easy grin. “Can’t get too many of them around here.”
“No, can’t say as we do.” He stared at her for a bit. Then, as though satisfied by what he read in her eyes, he nodded once and went into the back.
“What?” Adams turned to Ryan. “He has them in stock?”
“I got a smelter back here,” came a voice from the other room. “Just like doin’ it. Got silver, gold, brass, aluminum — crap.” They heard boxes fall.
Lydia called. “You okay?”
He came around the corner. “Yeah, got too much piled back there. Get an avalanche every now and then.” He set a plastic tub filled with silver bullets on the counter in front of them. “There, how’s that?”
They each chose a bullet and examined it. The craftsmanship was superb. “You put a lot of time into these,” Lydia observed.
“It’s a hobby.” The clerk glowed at the compliment.
“How much to part with thirty?” Lydia asked.
The thin man scratched at his stubble. “Being as they are silver, and the work involved, how about two hundred?”
Before Lydia could accept, Ryan said, “One-twenty-five.”
A light seemed to come on in the clerk’s eyes. “Ah, but she already remarked on the quality. Smooth. They’ll fire clean. One-seventy-five.”
“But she won’t be firing them. They’ll sit in a display case.” Ryan moved to the counter.
Lydia’s breath came faster and her mouth went dry. She could see how much Ryan enjoyed himself. How crazy was it for her to get turned on by it?
No sooner had she finished the thought than he glanced over his shoulder and winked. She almost laughed as she fingered the pendant around her neck. Got him riled too? Hmm … file that away for later.
Billy Bob countered with, “One-fifty.”
Ryan stretched out a hand. “Done.”
Lydia bumped her hip against Ryan’s as she scooted him aside to choose the bullets and hand the clerk her card. She glanced at Adams to tell him to get in there and pick some out too, but his expression stalled her.
He’d gone pale, his wide eyes staring at his cell phone. She took the phone from his hand and read the text message aloud. “Found him.” Her pulse quickened, and she scrolled for the address. Signing the receipt, she pocketed the bag of bullets and led Adams out of the shop by the arm.
She spun him around and stared into his terrified features. “I won’t blame you if you wanted to sit this one out. This is more than we signed on for when we joined the force.” In a way, she hoped he would bow out. He didn’t have the speed or agility to face this type of criminal.
He gulped, struggling with his fear. Suddenly, Ryan stood beside her and grabbed Adams by his shirtfront, growling inches from his face.
“Shit!” Adams punched Ryan in the face and scrambled over the car hood, drawing his weapon.
Ryan turned and kissed her cheek. “Okay, your friend can come.”
Unable to stop a grin, she climbed into the car. Ryan took his place in the back and they both waited until Adams straightened, brushed himself off and got in.
“So,” Lydia said once they were on the road. “Ready to go or do we need to stop off for a change of clothes?”
“Yeah, yeah. You immortals are real funny,” Adams said and reached into his pocket and withdrew a small medallion and fastened the chain around his neck. “Can’t hurt,” he said when she gave him a look. Then he released the clip from his weapon, emptying the bullets into his lap. He held out a hand and she passed him the bag and her weapon.
She drove in silence, the only noise inside the car the ticks as Adams filled their magazines. Excitement bubbled in her chest.
She’d watched for months as this murderer killed without discrimination. Getting close only to have him escape. Even if he hadn’t changed her, it would have become personal. The hunt had gone on too long, the deaths too numerous and mutilations too complete for any detective to stay detached.
Her first impulse was to reach for the radio and call it in. Get backup out to the building, just in case. But she dismissed the thought before her hand left the steering wheel. Extra forces would have regular bullets not able to kill him, resulting in more police deaths and Miller escaping again.
He couldn’t get past her this time. The three of them were the only ones who knew Miller’s true nature. They would not bother trying to bring him in. Nobody would try to capture a rabid animal. They’d kill it.
Adams handed over her gun, and she holstered it. They turned into the commerce park, an area of town filled with warehouses. Aside from signage, buildings were almost indistinguishable from one another.
Tan brick raised two stories, topped with flat roofs. Loading docks opened like gaping mouths out of the sides of the buildings. She could see workers inside some of the buildings moving cargo.
They sought a warehouse abandoned by the newspaper. It didn’t take long. The windows of the office sported boards, and the doors to the docks stood closed.
Lydia drove past and pulled into the lot of a beer distributor next door. They exited and gathered by the trunk.
She turned to Adams. “I’ll be honest, I don’t want you here.” When he started to say something, she raised a hand. “But if you stay hidden, Ryan and I can distract him until you can get off a shot.”
Ryan nodded in agreement. “We’ll go first and you follow after five minutes.”
“But you don’t have a weapon,” Adams observed.
Without a word, and seemingly from nowhere, two sliver knives appeared in Ryan’s grip. Then with a flick, they disappeared just as quickly.
“Cool.” The sergeant nodded approval and clapped them both on the back before turning to sit in the car to wait.
Ryan took her hand as they started toward bushes that separated the lots. Amazed by Ryan’s show of knives, she struggled not to gasp like a schoolgirl.
He aroused desire in her with the minutest actions. At the moment, she wanted to take him into the bushes and make wild passionate love. Later.
“I’ll hold you to that.” Ryan didn’t look in her direction, but the feeling that radiated from him was almost too much to bear. She stopped and gripped his face in both hands, kissing him hard.
When she broke the kiss, she clamped down on emotions skipping around in her heart and said, “We have a job to do.”
All the passion emanating from him ceased. Even so, the sense of completion
still comforted her as they crossed through a gap in the bushes. With her own thoughts and emotions under control, she could sense something else. A primal hunger. Unsatisfied desire. Ryan’s nod in her peripheral vision let her know he sensed it too.
Together they walked to a concrete staircase at the rear of the building. The doorway gaped at the top; a chunk of door ripped from the hinges and lay in splinters to the side of the stairs.
Lydia drew her weapon. She climbed first, sliding in sideways. She dropped into the dark then leaped to the side in one fluid motion. Ryan joined her. They stood still, breathing only slightly and allowing their eyes to adjust to the dark.
Before her stood a large pallet of newspapers. Not neatly folded, they seemed gathered for recycling. She figured they’d sat there since the company abandoned the warehouse.
She and Ryan moved slowly across the concrete floor, stepping with care to make only the faintest noise. Around the first pallet, more lined the space. It seemed the warehouse overflowed with them. When she finished here, she’d have to find whom to cite with the fire hazard.
A scream pierced the silence. A wave of joy followed. From the depths of darkness, whimpering echoed. Lydia increased the pace. The Butcher didn’t torture his victims. The fact that he did it now made stealth irrelevant.
She smelled the sweet metallic scent of fresh blood as they drew closer to the noises.
“God!” a man’s voice cried out in agony.
A deep chuckle filled with menace rumbled toward them.
When they rounded another pallet, they moved into a pool of light made by one of the few skylights in the aluminum roof.
On his back in the center of the light lay Adams, a gash across his chest, his limbs broken and splayed at odd angles. His gun remained holstered at his side.
Over him crouched Virgil Miller, his ragged clothes coated with dirt and sprayed with blood. Without hesitation, she fired a shot. Though the first bullet hit him in the shoulder, the grotesque man barely moved from the impact. He dashed behind a pallet on the other side of the clearing. Two bullets lodged in the papers before she stopped firing.
She ran to Adams, gun still in hand. He struggled to speak, spitting blood and gasping for air. “Cornered me. Bushes.” He coughed then grinned, his teeth colored with blood. “Get him. I’ll hold here.”
“Shit.” She stood to tell Ryan to take Adams to the car and found him gone. She stepped around her old friend and started down the passage where Miller disappeared.
As she neared the edge of the second pallet, a roar split the quiet in front of her. A body flew past. Ryan landed, tossed like a rag doll, knives clattering from his hands.
She rounded the corner and got off another two shots. She could only make out shadow, but a whine told her she hit her mark before he ducked around another corner.
She ran to Ryan. He stood, albeit wobbly, knives once again in his hands. “I got him in the arm and chest,” he panted. “But not deep enough.”
Another cry from Adams had them racing his way. This time, his face was slashed and an eye hung from its socket. Mercifully, he’d fallen into unconsciousness.
“Why?” Lydia roared to the rafters.
The reply came from a gruff voice directly in front of her. “You know the terror is almost as satisfying as the flesh.” He stepped into the light. His large nose barely shadowed the white teeth grinning at her.
“I wanted you, you know.” As he paced to the right, she matched his movement with her weapon. “That’s why I made you.”
She suppressed a shudder of disgust and fired again, just as Ryan leapt onto Miller from above. She screamed in horror as the bullet entered her love, and he crumpled in a heap. Miller stood and brushed himself off. “Thank you.”
“No!” she screamed and closed the distance. The world shattered. Like breaking through thin ice of a pond, her flesh burned, submerged in freezing fear.
Ignoring the vile killer, she cradled Ryan’s face in her hands. It couldn’t be. She bowed her head and rocked over him. The silver pendant swung between them as she swayed, seeming to glow.
“That’s enough of that.” A clawed hand gripping her shoulder, he wrenched her from Ryan’s body.
She grasped the silver leaf in her fist. He spun her to face him and pressed his revolting body against hers. One of his hands clenched her throat while the other ripped at her jeans.
“You’re mine now.” He leaned in, his dripping tongue reached for her face.
“I want you,” she said hotly, running her left hand up his arm to grip his shoulder. “To die.” She dug her nails into the back of his neck and pierced his juggler with her pendant.
He staggered, clutching his gurgling throat. Her blood ran cold. No malice, no rage, just the detachment of justice well done. She wouldn’t have to worry about this monster infecting anyone else.
Although her infection became a blessing, she would never wish it on anyone. Too much could have gone wrong. How many others did he infect before her, hopeless souls with no one to help them through their first full moon? She could tell by the gurgle coming from the beast, she didn’t want to know.
She stalked to Adams and took his gun. Miller tried to escape between the stacks, and she merely followed less than three steps behind.
Tiring of the slow chase, she kicked him in the back and sprawled the weakening werewolf on the ground.
“Please,” he implored with a whimper, reaching for her.
She snorted. “Give me a break.” She unloaded the clip into Virgil Miller at point blank range. Drained and detached, she stared at the remnants of the Bestial Butcher’s head. “Well, at least I destroyed his brain,” she said to the empty warehouse.
When she returned to the clearing, she found Ryan struggling to sit. Her heart swelled and she gasped. Tears fell unbidden down her cheeks. From this angle, she could see where the bullet had exited his shoulder, a through–and–through just below his collarbone.
She ripped off her sleeve and pressed hard to quench the bleeding. Flipping open her cell phone, she called for an ambulance.
Adams moaned, his limbs twitching uselessly. Ryan placed his hand on hers and kept pressure on his shoulder while she went to kneel beside Adams.
“Just a moment, they’ll be here soon,” she said gently, stroking his hair, reassuring him until the paramedics could be heard at the entrance. She ran to the doors and kicked through the lock to give them entrance.
Once they loaded Adams onto a stretcher, she crossed to where Ryan sat bare-chested while another paramedic placed a bandage on his shoulder.
“You may still need stitches,” said the technician. He slipped the arm in a sling. “Don’t move it.” The paramedic turned as Lydia approached. “You’re with him?” At her nod, he said, “Make sure he sees a doctor tomorrow.”
“I will,” she managed past a throat gone tight with emotion. The paramedic helped Ryan to his feet then went to assist with Adams’ gurney.
Her lip quivered as she stared into the eyes of the only man she’d ever loved. “I thought I’d lost you,” she whispered.
“Never,” he said. “We’re immortal, darling, and wolves mate for life.”
About the Author
Born in Tennessee, Kristine Overbrook is a daughter of New England. She spent the first part of her life traveling the east coast as a navy brat. When her father left the navy, her family stayed in the Virginia Beach area. That’s where she grew up, met her husband and started her family.
Kristine dabbled in writing for years until she began working with a woman who insisted she develop her inner writer. After much pestering, Kristine surrendered and enjoyed it so much she has indulged the writer within her ever since.
She currently lives in Pennsylvania with her family and two dogs.
A Crimson Romance Sneak Peek
Swamp Magic by Bobbi Romans
Arsonists Anonymous
Nora Snowdon
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
www.crimsonromance.com
Copyright © 2012 by Nora Mader
ISBN 10: 1-4405-5220-7
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5220-5
eISBN 10: 1-4405-5219-3
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-5219-9
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art 123rf.com
Special thanks to Captain Ron for all his fire fighting information, Charlie for explaining hydroponics, and my critique group and editor Jennifer Lawler for helping shape this book. It takes a village …
Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
More from This Author
CHAPTER 1
The monster SUV behind her was riding her butt. Lu’s tattered nerves frayed even more as she concentrated on the curving highway ahead. The VW Beetle beside her sped up and her tailgater zipped behind it and cruised on by. The red-faced, balding driver shot her a disgusted look and swerved in front of her only to stomp on his brakes. She jammed on her own, barely controlling her sliding tires. His chubby hand shot out the driver’s side window with his middle finger prominently displayed before he gunned his gas and sped away in a gray cloud.