She could see the two of them in the mirror from the corner of her eye, and they seemed to be a two-faced creature joined at the lips and at the genitals, rocking in their spooning position and moaning with pleasure.
He withdrew once again and she pushed into him, wanting him back, but he backed up and lowered his hands from her nipples and spread her legs farther apart so he could have better access.
Heather knew where he was headed, and she changed the angle of her body so that he could maneuver more easily. She felt the thick head of his erection tickling her puckered hole and forcing its way in. She spread her legs even farther and hissed at the intensity of his inexorable thrust. Her lips mashed on his, tongues wrestling, their eyes locked on each other’s. He slowly invaded her with his fullness and took her breath away. He was breaking her in half, and she rammed herself backward onto him, crazed with the sensations.
She closed her eyes and let him ride her and taste her and gobble her up.
She felt the wolf inside howling to break free and pushed her down, trying to keep her from erupting out of control. Then she opened her eyes and—
Jesus, he’d started to change, and the eyes that stared into hers were the cold, gray-green eyes of a monstrous wolf.
The hands on her nipples were paws, and she knew that he had gone over.
Simonson was a werewolf?
His thrusting and panting intensified, and she felt herself coming and…
Jesus Christ, I’m going over!
She knew the gray fur was shooting up along her torso and back, and she was not really quite human anymore as his massive orgasm rocked her altering body and triggered her own orgasm and she turned her fangs and nipped his face and he yelped and bit her shoulder and then they were riding out the waves and there was pounding at the door and a voice asking if she was all right.
And then he was Simonson again, still thrusting into her but becoming flaccid now and the sweat was pouring off him and onto her clammy skin—and she was no longer certain he’d gone over at all. No, she’d come close, but she had imagined it. She hadn’t gone over, but she’d felt as if she were about to. And he hadn’t, but part of her fantasy had included his Change—except he wasn’t a wolf.
He was panting with exertion, however.
The pounding at the door finally broke her reverie, and they pulled apart and covered up, replacing peeled clothing as well as possible. Heather opened the door while he hid behind it and assured the woman, a waitress, that she was fine, just overcome with a quick illness.
He grinned at her as she pushed the door shut in the woman’s face.
“You’re, uh, quite something,” he said. “I could have dreamed wild dreams of you in the middle of every fucking Iraqi night I ever had to live through.”
“That was good, Simonson. Now let’s get out of here before they call the EMTs and a Jaws of Life to break me free.” She did a quick repair job on her smeared face.
Then they sidled out one at a time, and he pretended to emerge from the men’s. They met at their table, disheveled and hungry.
“Did you feel anything…strange…going on during that?” she asked him after they’d ordered new drinks and started cooling off.
“Like what?” His eyes, now gone back to military-cold, gave nothing away.
“Nothing. I just had a really intense experience, that’s all.”
“Me too, Wilson, me too.”
“So are you helping Nick Lupo with his takedown of Wolfpaw?” She was all business now. Pleasure was over. Great, but done. Now it was back to what she’d wanted to talk about.
“I plan to. I know where the company’s inner council is meeting, and I can get us in there.”
“And then what?”
He grimaced. “Depends on how dirty your friend Lupo is willing to get. If he’s on the level, then we can end it.”
Suddenly his eyes widened as if lightning had just struck him.
He rubbed his head so hard the veins in his forearms threatened to pop.
“What’s wrong?” she said, concerned despite herself.
“Nothing, just a headache.” He groaned.
She reached out a hand to touch him, but he pulled away. Not before she felt the intense heat of his skin.
“I’m all right,” he insisted, but his eyes evaded hers. He gathered up his jacket and stood, a bit unsteadily, and tossed money on the table. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Sure,” she said, but he was already walking away. She wondered what had just happened. She’d call Lupo and warn him about Simonson’s flakiness. Then again, Lupo was a big boy.
Heather stood, feeling the violence of their union from her pelvis all the way down to her toes. She was still tingling.
The wolf inside was restless, aroused and feeling thwarted by her reversal.
Chapter Twenty
DiSanto
He showed off his torn coat and related the story of the van’s near miss.
“He almost pancaked me against the wall, Nick. But then it’s like he regained control and steered off the curb and zoomed off. Like the movies.”
“No tag number?” Lupo said, shaking his head.
“Oh, I fucking well looked, but it was obscured. Mud, maybe.”
“It could be our guy, but why would he be gunning for you? And then why not finish the job?” He grinned. “Not that I’m saying he should’ve…”
“He had a window half down. I saw a flash, could have been a muzzle. Maybe he was gonna do me. But he spooked. There were people on the sidewalk, coming out of the coffee shop.”
“Hm. Go back to the first question. Why?”
DiSanto smiled a secretive little smile. He sure liked having something to share that Lupo didn’t have.
“I did get some info from up north that might link to your old friends, and maybe if you’re right about this guy with the wolf obsession being connected too, then it’s a linear connection, right?”
He explained about the Minocqua killings and the fire, plus the strange findings in the burned-out house. He said, “Maybe we need to make a quick trip up there, check this Wolfpaw lab for ourselves. Whattya think, will Bakke spring for the chopper?”
“Unlikely, plus we’d better not imply we’re checking into something too far afield. We know the possible connections, but Bakke’s a hard sell.”
“Okay, it’s a long drive. When?”
Lupo considered. “Tomorrow. Get all our ducks in a row.”
DiSanto looked around the squad room. All detectives under them had been assigned to canvass the three crime scenes. The others were handling the squad’s regular caseload. The place was deserted. Even Killian’s office was dark, and DiSanto didn’t think even he was creepy enough to hang out secretly. He frowned.
“Nick, I think it’s time you told me what the fuck’s going on with you and this Wolfpaw outfit. I ain’t stupid. Mrs. DiSanto didn’t raise no hayseed. I get all the wolf shit connecting these things, and I get the whole evil contractor thing. But then there’s all those fucked up animal attacks. Eagle River, Wausau, here…”
Lupo said nothing.
“Also, tell me why Killian has it in for you—or I’m asking for a new partner.”
Lupo still said nothing.
DiSanto snapped his fingers in front of Lupo’s face.
“Earth to Mr. Lupo.” He pointed at his own chest. “Me, partner. Me, not stranger.”
Lupo grimaced. “I’m not keeping you out for any reason other than to protect you—”
“That’s not working,” DiSanto pointed out. “Look at what happened to my coat.”
“I’ll get back to you.”
DiSanto grinned. He knew when Lupo was backing down.
Lupo
They argued about it half the night, but in the end Jessie had to agree that Nick’s back was against the wall on this one.
“He laid it on the line with me, Jess. He said: ‘Tell me why Killian has it in for you—or I’m asking for a new partner.’”
>
She looked pained. The younger cop was a good guy, and she clearly hated to hear he was feeling trapped by secrets.
But he was, of course. They all were.
“You know what happened after we told Tom,” she reminded him.
“But knowing about me and the condition isn’t what got him killed,” he retorted.
At least, not as far as you know.
No, she didn’t know that Tom had asked Heather to make him a werewolf so he could seek revenge for the slaughter of his family. She didn’t know that it was Ghost Sam who had whispered in Lupo’s ear all about it, giving Lupo no choice but to murder his friend—how many revenge-seeking werewolves could he allow to exist? He had just recently learned that lycanthropy wasn’t isolated to just him, or even just a few individuals, but that there were many more like him. Allowing Tom Arnow to be one of them would have made life more difficult, though now his conscience wouldn’t be bothering him so much.
And he’d second-guessed himself ever since.
Why kill Tom Arnow but allow Heather Wilson to live?
Only Ghost Sam suggested he’d done the right thing, and who thought it was a good idea, listening to ghosts?
“It may not have gotten him killed directly,” Jessie agreed, “but it sure led to it in the end.”
“Jess, I can’t keep lying to DiSanto. He’s my partner.”
“You could lie to him if it’s for his own good. We lie to each other all the time. For good reasons, I mean.”
Wow, touché—I didn’t see that one coming.
He let it go. “Issues are separate. How can he really have my back—and me his—if he’s unaware of everything that complicates my life? Maybe this would all be useful in the long run. Maybe keeping less secrets is the key.”
“And maybe he’ll consider you a monster and put a bullet in your back the first chance he gets.”
“You still have a stash of silver ammo, Jess,” he said, very quietly.
She flared up. “I thought we’d agreed it was important to have some handy—not so I could put you down, but because of those others. You’re trying to blend the two, but they’re separate issues too.”
“Okay, stalemate,” he said. He was tired of fighting.
“But?”
“But it doesn’t help me deal with DiSanto, who’s hot to know why Killian wants to get me. If I show him the truth, I can also be more truthful about the complications that caused me—us—to do some things we’re not always proud of.”
“Yeah, and maybe he’d still see you as a monster and bide his time.”
He raised his voice. “Welcome to it, then. Some days I wouldn’t mind being put down. What’s the point of trying to do good things if you keep getting shoved against the wall?”
Jessie looked at him as if she could read his mind. He had to be careful. He’d done things he wasn’t proud of, sure, but did he want to come clean on any of it?
“Nick,” she said softly, “I don’t want us to fight anymore. If you think your partner needs to know, then I’ll back you up.” She tried to smile, but her lips quivered. “I don’t want us to lose what we have, not over silly arguments.”
But it wasn’t silly, was it? Bringing DiSanto into the fold meant Lupo’s cover would be blown and, on a daily basis, Lupo would be exposed to his partner’s whims, biases, and fears. Nothing would ever be the same.
He told her that.
She nodded gravely. “Nothing will ever be the same.”
DiSanto
The drive to Kettle Moraine State Park, a ways west, wasn’t particularly long, but he couldn’t help wondering what all the secrecy was about.
If this had been an episode of The Sopranos he’d have to worry they were gonna whack him when they finally reached the woods. They were following Dr. Hawkins’s banged-up Pathfinder in Lupo’s Maxima. They’d set the whole thing up and sprung it on him over coffee. He liked coffee enough to go along, but they’d talked to him about how serious this thing they were going to share with him was, and he wondered jokingly if they wanted him to help them with a threesome.
Ha!
He knew it wasn’t that. Those two were so pissed at each other half the time they had to be crazy about each other, too, because that was how it worked, wasn’t it? It was when you really cared that you took the time and energy to fight. His wife and he had lost that spark a long time ago. She only nagged at him when he was pulled away from a family function she thought he should attend. But otherwise she didn’t much care what he did about anything. So if these two fought like cats and dogs, then it meant they were still in the heat of the moment. Or something like that.
Which brought him back to the whole secret trip.
They had a serial killer at large, a strange connection up north to something Nick had already finished with, and then he had that asshole Killian on his ass, but here they were, heading for the woods. Maybe a campfire and a weenie roast would solve all their ills.
“Anything you want to tell me now that we’re almost there?”
Lupo drove with exaggerated concentration. Traffic was light—duck and goose season was over for both hunters and huggers, and it was now officially too cold to hang out in the woods without a reason.
“DiSanto, I told you before, this is something you have to see to appreciate. It’s not easy for me to share this with you, but I want you to know it’s for our own good—all of us—because if we don’t go ahead there’s a good possibility the lack of knowledge will get you killed. Wolfpaw doesn’t fuck around.”
“Oh, I know that. There’s some pretty bad dudes. You see any clips of the hearings?” He pulled down the shade mirror and finger-combed his hair. He wore it long in the rear, so his natural curls made a little duck tail behind his skull.
“Not much. Believe me, I know more than I need to know about them.”
“Yeah, that CEO is a real motherfucker, you can just see it. They’re starting to back off on him. Almost like suddenly they’re afraid of him, you know?”
Lupo snapped his head around and stared at him a long second before focusing on the dull road again.
“What did you say?”
“Uh, let’s— Like some of the congressmen are afraid of ’im now. They’re kinda backing off, you know, after reading him the riot act over and over.
“Shit, he’s getting to them.”
“You think so? I mean, they’re congressmen. And a woman.”
“Believe me, this guy is the face of the board of directors of that company—and their inner council. They’re more connected to the government than an octopus. I think they may have pulled some kind of strings to cow the panel.”
Up ahead, Jessie was signaling for a turn off the main road. Looked like a DNR access road and maybe a hidden parking area for rangers and other park workers.
Lupo followed her in and pulled up nearby, not right next to her.
This was a strange place for a meeting. Thoughts of movie rub-outs ran through DiSanto’s mind. Would they Luca Brasi him, or would Silvio step out from behind a tree with a rod in his hand? Was Lupo his Michael, regretfully but with steely nerves betraying his partner?
DiSanto was surprised to feel his hands shaking.
“So, we’re here, eh?” He felt sticky in the seat. He’d sweated a lot more than he had expected.
Lupo held the wheel a minute longer and bowed his head, sighing.
DiSanto was startled when he saw Jessie Hawkins step out of her SUV with a shotgun in hand.
“What the fuck, Nick?”
This was going too far.
Lupo turned in his seat and looked at him, weary.
DiSanto hadn’t noticed before how tired and worn-out Lupo looked suddenly. He powered down the windows a couple inches on each side.
“Listen, nothing’s happening to you. The shotgun’s for me. In case something goes wrong. You don’t even have to get out of the car until Jessie calls you. Then you’re driving back to town with her. Leave my car here, okay?”
“Shit, man! What the hell are you babbling about?”
“I’ve done this once before, with Tom Arnow. He knew, and he dealt with it. Now I’m asking you to keep an open mind. I’m not faking anything, and I don’t plan to cause you any harm, but what you’re about to see will probably change a lot of things you think you know.”
Before DiSanto could reply, Lupo climbed out of the car and stepped closer to Jessie’s Pathfinder. Jessie kept the shotgun at the ready, not quite aimed. She nodded at DiSanto through the windshield, and he thought he recognized fear and some anger, maybe disagreement with how things were going.
He turned back to where Lupo had disappeared behind the SUV just in time to see him step back out.
Except now he was naked.
“The fuck—”
Then DiSanto shut his mouth with an audible clack as his teeth came together hard.
“Jesus H. Christ on a stick,” he whispered and almost made a sign of the cross from habit, but his hand lost its way over his chest.
Through the windshield he saw his partner, Nick Lupo, standing naked in the cold country air. He might have checked out Lupo’s equipment, nervously, or wonder about the chill, but he was just too flustered. It was cold, but Lupo didn’t shiver, no, he suddenly seemed to shimmer, and then he blurred as if he were in a photograph and the background stayed in focus but the figure in the foreground didn’t… And then Nick Lupo was no longer standing there, but an oversize black wolf turned his head and stared at DiSanto through the auto glass—
And it was Nick Lupo’s eyes staring at him!
He swore it was Lupo’s eyes, but they were changing color, in fact spinning through a weird range of colors, and his fangs were visible when the beast opened its snout and let out a howl that chilled DiSanto’s spine like nothing had in decades, since he’d been a kid.
But something tickled him, too, because this was, after all, something so incredible, so bizarre, that it made him tremble with discovery and wonder.
And he believed.
No smoke, no mirrors.
No, Nick Lupo had become a goddamned wolf, like on TV and in the movies.
Wolf's Edge (The Nick Lupo Series Book 4) Page 24