The Call of Her Heart (Whiskey Springs Pack Book 2)

by Stella Night

  “Can I help?” Celia asked.

  Logan paused long enough to give her a smile. “No, I got it. You can go back to the day care house or go check on Mrs. G. Just don’t touch anything near the vehicle.” He turned his attention back to the seat.

  Celia pouted as she walked around the truck. She understood that he had automatically jumped into what he was trained to do, but still …

  She heard a whine and turned to see who had shifted in the middle of town. Her brow furrowed in confusion. She put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and turned back toward the truck.

  As she rounded what was left of the front grill, she saw something laying near the curb. Remembering what Logan had said, she bent down to inspect it, taking care to leave it undisturbed.

  “Logan.” She walked around the objects, inspecting them from all sides. “Logan,” she called a little louder.

  “Yeah, what?” There was an edge of frustration to his voice.

  “I found something.” Celia stood and watched as he walked over to her.

  “Celia, I’m really busy — “

  “Hey! I’m just trying to help, asshole” she snapped, cutting him off. She was confused by the tension she felt crawling up her arms. She had a sudden urge to run and see if he chased or just stood there with his mouth hanging open. Not only that, she wanted him to chase her.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Josh slowly stand. She felt her brother’s eyes on her but she refused to look at him. She dropped her eyes down to the objects at her feet.

  “I found something here. I just thought you might be interested in it.”

  She didn’t wait for Logan to respond. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Celia realized she didn’t know if she was thinking of Logan or herself now.

  She whirled and started walking toward the bookstore as both men called after her. She thought she heard another whine, but there were no shifters near her. Turning, she saw Gemma Gilbert standing in her yard, watching her with a smile. She waved and called for Celia to join her.

  ***

  Logan watched Celia walk away from him, fists clenched at her side. Her shoulders were rigid and set. He realized it was the same way she looked the first time he saw her. Except now, rather than going off on him, she was walking away. He scratched his head, trying to figure out what he had done wrong.

  “Don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine.”

  Logan turned toward Josh who was standing beside him. Josh only shrugged. Then Logan bent down to get a closer look at the matchbook and broken glass Celia had found.

  “Not sure what I did to piss her off.” Logan said to himself as much as to Josh. He pulled off his shirt and used it as a glove to pick up the matchbook. “It’s soggy, like the last one. Won’t know until I can send it to the lab in San Antonio.” He gave it a shake. “Looks kind of familiar. Might be from the same club as the one we found in the campground.” He used the other side of his shirt to pick up the glass fragments. “And I’m sure there was no glass here when I pulled in. Look. See all the soot on it?” He held it close to his nose and took a sniff. His nostrils flared with the odor. “Gasoline.”

  “Molotov cocktail?” Josh asked.

  Logan shrugged. “It’s possible. Let’s just say I’m not discounting it.”

  “Go grab your kit and we’ll get what you need from here. Then we can check the videos and photos on the computer. I’ll meet you at the store.”

  Logan watched the Alpha walk across the street. The crowd had thinned considerably, but Josh spoke to each person he passed.

  Logan took another quick scan of the faces around him. He suddenly realized he was standing, shirtless, in the middle of Main Street. His face growing warm, he grinned and nodded at a few people as he walked quickly up the walk. He couldn’t get into the little blue house quickly enough.

  ***

  Celia stood in the window of Mrs. Gilbert’s sitting room. Her breath caught when Logan whipped his shirt off so he could pick up the discarded matchbook.

  The corded muscles of his back rippled. When he turned around, his abs were gilded by the sunlight, each one clearly defined. Her fingers itched to touch him. She wanted to run her hands over the ridges and dips of the muscles on his belly. She wanted to trace the hills and valleys with her tongue. Her hands ached to grip his tight rear. Her cheeks grew warm, then she realized other things had begun to warm as well.

  “So, dear, what’s on your mind?” Mrs. Gilbert stood next to her at the window. When she followed Celia’s gaze, she whistled. “Oh my, would you look at that?” She smiled as she fanned herself, a dreamy look in her eyes.

  “Mrs. G!” Celia turned from the window and flopped down into the armchair.

  Gemma Gilbert chuckled as she turned from the window. “You girls forget. I was young like you and, like you, I certainly appreciated a good-looking man. Still do, as a matter of fact.” She grabbed a bottle of single malt Irish whiskey off her bar and poured some into two glasses. She handed one to Celia, then sipped from the other before she sat down on the sofa.

  “Tell me, Celia, what’s wrong?” Mrs. Gilbert turned her emerald eyes on her guest.

  Celia felt like a bug being examined under a magnifying glass. She fidgeted then took a deep breath. “I heard something.”

  Mrs. Gilbert nodded. “What did you hear?”

  Celia took a big gulp of the amber liquid, then choked as it burned its way down to her belly. She coughed a bit, then took a deep breath. “A whine.”

  The white-haired woman smiled. “I see. Anything else?”

  Celia couldn’t meet Mrs. Gilbert’s gaze. She stared down at the table and toyed with her glass. Her answer was the barest of whispers. “Whines, whimpers.” She paused. “A word.” She lifted her eyes to her hostess. “I thought I heard ‘mate’. Maybe I was wrong.”

  Mrs. Gilbert nodded. “Celia, I do believe you heard your wolf.”

  Celia shook her head. “No,” she whispered. Her heart thumped against her ribcage. It was hard to breathe.

  Mrs. Gilbert nodded. “Were you two—?”

  “Who? Me and—?” Celia jumped up. “No! It was just a kiss… and… a touch. Just a touch on my hand, my arm, my face.” She paced the room, then whirled on her hostess. “I’ve had sex before. I even had sex with Rick.” Her cheeks warmed again with her confession. “I never heard anything before. You’re wrong. I have super good hearing. It had to be someone in the crowd. Someone said something else, like ‘wait’, or ‘late’. It was not my wolf and it was not ‘mate’. My wolf does not talk to me.”

  Gemma Gilbert leaned back and looked at her. “What else did you hear, dear?”

  Celia’s chest heaved as she tried to breathe. “A whine. Yips.” She fell into the chair again, her legs splayed before her. “And there were no shifters anywhere near me.”

  Mrs. Gilbert’s white hair fell in waves around her face as she nodded. “Congratulations, Celia. Your wolf is communicating with you.” She sipped from her glass, her eyes sparkling over the rim. “How do you feel about Logan?”

  Celia grabbed her glass and drained it. She closed her eyes against the fire that blazed all the way down to her belly. When she could speak, she answered “What? Logan. Why do you ask about him? I mean, I guess he’s okay.”

  “You weren’t too pleased with him a few days ago.”

  “I know.” Celia paused in thought. “But then he had to go and be nice — to everyone.” She stood and paced again, touching knick-knacks here and there. “He’s very nice. Kind. Smart. And he’s so good with Eli, and so sweet to Ella.” She stopped at the window. “And he and Josh get along really well.”

  Celia played with the hem of her shirt and pouted. “I don’t want to love anyone.” She continued. “What if he loves me but I don’t love him? Like with Rick.” She put her head in her hands. “I don’t want to be responsible for hurting someone again. Or what if I do love him and he doesn’t love me? How do you go on after something like that? Especially when wolves
mate for life.”

  “We always move forward. There is no sense in standing still or moving backward.” Mrs. Gilbert smiled. “Sweet girl, the heart wants what the heart wants. And our wolves often know what that is, so we try to listen to them.” She waited until Celia met her eyes again. “And if you go against your wolf, you may never find true happiness. She has already chosen. Listen to her. Let her guide you.”

  Celia closed her eyes. For the first time, she could see her wolf now, happily wagging its tail. And for the first time in her life she had to consider a life shared with someone.

  Crap on a cracker.

  Chapter 10

  Logan sat on the sofa in his apartment, going through photos on his laptop. He made a few notes, then looked at the report sent by the county fire marshal and compared it to his notes. He had sent all the evidence he and Celia had found, including the matchbook covers and a few of cigarette butts. One butt was found just inside the back door of the Hungry Boar. The glass fragment he had sent to San Antonio, hoping for a partial print or DNA that could be matched somewhere.

  Gathering everything up, he started to head out the door to meet with Josh Masters. Then he remembered something he had neglected to do.

  Grabbing his cell phone, he dialed the number and waited.

  ***

  “Okay, this is why the fire marshal initially stopped looking past the deep fryer. See that mark?” Logan used his pen to point to a spot on the photo. At Josh’s nod, he continued. “That was indeed the point of origin for the fire near the grease trap. The problem is, there were four more. One just inside the dining area, two upstairs, and one just inside the back door.”

  He stopped and chewed his lip as he considered the news he was about to deliver. “The worse news is that all three of the Geralds had been shot before the fire was set.”

  Josh placed both hands on the table and pushed himself up. He leaned in close to Logan. “Are you telling me they were murdered?” The words came out in a growl. At Logan’s nod, Josh slowly shook his head back and forth. “You’re wrong. There hasn’t been a killing in Whiskey Springs in over a hundred years.”

  Josh stood and put his hands on his hips. “The Geralds’ were fine people. They helped found this town with Gemma Gilbert and her husband. Why would someone kill them? Who would kill them?” His eyes began to glow with that golden fire. “Son of a bitch! No shifter would break pack rule.”

  “I know pack law, Josh, but maybe the sheriff should be called in.”

  “No!” Josh shouted. His shoulders grew wider, his hair shaggier. His voice was rough, snarling. “Whoever did this will answer to me. Not to mundane law.” He thumped a fist on his chest.

  Logan sat still, careful to avert his eyes from the Alpha. “I’m sorry, Josh,” he said quietly.

  Josh took a deep breath and shook himself, then sat down. “No, I’m the one who should apologize to you.” He cleared his throat. “It’s pack business. I’m the Alpha, I’ll handle it. But I need your help. I need for you to tell me everything.”

  Logan took a deep breath. “The fire started near the back door, not the grease trap, which is what the fire marshal thought.” He pointed to the photo again. “We know that the stairway was not compromised, which meant someone may have needed a way out.” Josh nodded. “But there were two sources of ignition upstairs in each bedroom.” He pulled out two more photos. “In each room, accelerant used in the corner closest to the bed.”

  Josh tapped his finger on one of the photos. “The Geralds were full blood shifters. You know how good Celia’s hearing is?” At Logan’s nod he said, “Multiply that by about twenty. How would someone get up the stairs and shoot, say Rick, then be able to get into the parents’ room without being caught? Hell, how would they even be able to get into the house?”

  “Multiple shooters?”

  Josh snarled. “Only shifters could move quietly enough to get up there without waking them first.” His eyes were still glowing.

  Logan nodded. “The main ignition source was just inside the back door with a char line leading to the deep fryer. The San Antonio fire marshal believes it was probably gasoline. I’m figuring the fumes would have been harsh for humans, even more so for shifters. Another thing that points to the family being killed before the fire started.”

  He stacked the photos up and pulled out his laptop. “My theory? At least two people, possibly shifters, go upstairs, shoot the family, start the fires up there. They come back down the stairs and pour the gas from the dining room back into the kitchen with a pool in front of the fryer. They lay a pile of rags on that and dump some of the grease from the fryer on top. Then another small trail to the back door. I think they used a matchbook and cigarette as the ignition source.”

  Josh ran his fingers through his hair. He turned his gaze to Logan. “What? Whiskey Springs is a smoke-free community.” He looked at the photos. “How would they have done that?”

  “Take a matchbook and a rubber band. Light a cigarette and seat it behind the matches with the rubber band. It’s slow, somewhat effective, but sometimes less than reliable. And it is almost impossible to prove since everything usually burns - no evidence.”

  “But you found a partial matchbook.”

  Logan nodded. “Yep. Like I said not always reliable. But every fire bug has his preferred method.”

  Josh’s mouth dropped open. “We’ve found three matchbooks so far.”

  “Yeah. And apparently, they all came from the same club in San Antonio. ‘Something’ Rose.” He opened the laptop. “But no DNA, no prints yet. The fire and the water may have destroyed those.”

  “What about your truck?”

  “Well, we found one of the matchbooks there but it was in front of the truck, near broken glass that smelled of gasoline — faintly. As far as I could tell, that fire started on the hood. At least, that’s what I think because no one saw anything.” Logan scowled. “Thanks to Joe Easton and the volunteers, there was no way to tell for sure.”

  “So, you’ve got all the photos from the campground fire and your truck?”

  “Yeah. And I want you to go through them and put names to faces.”

  ***

  Half an hour later, Josh slapped the table top. “This guy.” He pointed at the photo on the screen.

  “Who?” Logan pulled the screen around where he could see it.

  “There.” Josh was pointing to where Joe Easton stood near the brothers from Oklahoma.

  Chapter 11

  Celia had been a nervous wreck for the past two days. She hadn’t seen much of Logan since the truck fire. She had just about written him and her wolf off since there hadn’t been so much as a peep from either one.

  And then he called and asked if he could fix her dinner. So, now she stood at the bottom of the stairs that led to his apartment in Mrs. Gilbert’s house.

  Her feet wobbled in the unfamiliar heels she wore. She smoothed her skirt and pulled at the blouse Ella had insisted she wear. Celia would have just opted for jeans and a t-shirt but her sister-in-law insisted that she dress more like a lady for a date, especially a first date. Earrings brushed her shoulders when she moved her head. She had even let Ella do her make up. The dark mascara made her eyes look almost copper and a hint of blush highlighted her cheekbones.

  She had drawn the line at lip gloss, telling Ella her lips were just fine.

  She chewed her bottom lip now as she made her way up the stairs and stood before Logan’s door. For some reason, she was as nervous as a cat in a room full rocking chairs and she was unable to lift her hand to knock. At least, until she caught the aroma of something so tantalizing that her mouth watered.

  When Logan opened the door, Celia thrust the bottle of wine she had been carrying at him. “Here.”

  He looked at the bottle and smiled, then he looked up at her. Celia watched as his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. She stomped her foot and put her hand on her hip, glaring at him.

  “Oh, damn. I’m sorry, I mean �
�� God, you look amazing.” A dull blush crept up Logan’s face but his eyes kept raking her.

  Celia felt her own cheeks warm. “Thank you.” She waited for Logan to do something or say something else. “Can I come in?”

  Logan shook his head as if coming out of a daze. “I’m sorry. Yes, come in. Please.” He held the door open so she could enter the apartment.

  “What do I smell?” Celia leaned around Logan and looked toward the small kitchen.

  Logan turned toward the kitchen then back to her. “Paella. I hope you like seafood.” He gestured toward the sofa.

  “I do. In fact, I love seafood. It’s kind of hard to come by around here. At least, unless you want frozen.” Celia sat and watched as he grabbed two wine glasses and a corkscrew from the kitchen counter.

  Logan opened and poured the wine. “Well, I have a source on the coast and he was nice enough to fly some up to Kerrville for me. Kind of a special delivery for tonight.” He handed her a glass then sat in the chair next to the sofa.

  “Here’s to sources.” She touched her glass to his before she sipped. “Dinner smells really good. Do you cook often?”

  “Every chance I get. It’s kind of a passion of mine. Someday I’d like to have my own restaurant.”

  “Really? I guess all we’ve talked about is fire investigations and day care centers.” Celia sipped her wine, watching him over the edge of her glass. Had his eyes always been the exact shade of the sky in autumn?

  Logan grinned. “Well, the fire really has been taking all my attention. And I want to apologize. Speaking of that, I know you’re just about ready to open the daycare center. Can I help you finish up and be on hand when things are ready to go?”

  Celia paused mid sip. “You still want to help?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

  “What about the investigation?” She set her glass down on the table in front of her.