High Moon (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 4)

by Jennifer Harlow

  “I wanted to tell you, I did, but I couldn’t find the words, okay?”

  I touch his arm, but he yanks it away. “You could have said, ‘I am fucking the man who made our lives hell for months. Who beat one of my best friends to a pulp. Who toyed with my emotions, made me sob so many times even I lost count. Who broke my bloody heart.’ You could have said that,” he spits out with the venom of a viper.

  “You’ve known about my feelings for him since the very beginning. This shouldn’t be a surprise, Oliver. And as my friend, you should be happy for me.” I pause. “I love him. And he loves me.”

  “He may love you, but he hates himself far more.”

  “We’re working on that.” I fold my arms across my chest. “Anything else friend? Because I have to get back to my boyfriend who you just upset.”

  I turn to go but Oliver grabs my arm and spins me back around. “We have not finished our conversation, Beatrice.”

  “You want to finish this conversation? Change your tone and stop acting like a jerk. I’m too tired to fight, okay? And let go of my arm.” Still sneering, he releases me. I pull down my hoodie to regain some dignity. “Now, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I don’t want to cause you a millisecond of pain, I truly don’t. But I’m with Will. I am in love with Will. That isn’t changing, and at least from my standpoint our friendship isn’t changing either. Unless you do something to change it.”

  “If you truly believe that, my dear, then you are a bigger fool than I thought. Do you truly believe your lover will tolerate my presence in your life when he barely tolerates my presence on this planet?”

  “We already discussed it. He’s not making me chose. Are you?”

  “How long do you think that will last? I cannot envision myself being invited to Sunday supper or playing Uncle Oliver to your offspring, can you?”

  I groan in frustration. “What do you want from me, Oliver? What do you want me to say? You’re being unfair. If you fell in love, I’d be happy for you. Why can’t you return the favor?”

  When he doesn’t respond except for that icy glare, I throw my hands up and start down the hallway. I don’t want to—

  I feel Oliver’s hands on my upper arms before I see him. I blink and he’s pulling me against his body. I’m so surprised, I gasp. Those gray eyes burrow into mine, ice melting to reveal misery. For a moment I think he’s going to shake me, strike me, knock some sense into me, but as I stare into his eyes, it’s not violence I fear. We’ve only kissed once, but it was…delicious. And there is a part of me, even now, that wants him to press his lips to mine. For a moment, as I gaze into those glorious orbs, lust strikes like lightening. But only for a moment.

  The rattling of the cage and howling on the other side of the door keeps me grounded. “Let me go, Ol—”

  A brutal kiss meant to hurt, meant to claim, cuts my protest short. I don’t kiss back, instead moving my arms to my sides in surrender. He may as well be kissing a mannequin. I don’t give an inch. After a few seconds, he releases me. “You done?” I ask deadpan. His glare answers for him. “Then get the hell out of my sight.”

  Glaring at him with the same ferocity as he is me, I wipe off my lips and step away. He doesn’t say anything as I turn my back on him and punch in the code. Smartest move he’s made all night.

  I step into the room, replacing one uncomfortable situation for another. In the minute since Oliver arrived, Will’s gone from Zen to rabid. His fur is covered with slobber and foam. He bites at the bars, yanking on them to no avail. There are fresh, bloody claw marks on the concrete at the edge of the bars. One of his claws has broken off. Jesus. The bloody paw swipes at me as I enter, its owner snarling and growling like a bear on steroids. I’m gonna have to tranq him. I sigh. I hope he—

  “This is what you chose?”

  Oliver scoffs behind me as he steps in once again. I spin around, eyes wide in surprise and fury. “Get out of here! Now!”

  I shove him as hard as I can but I’m no match. Oliver stumbles but grabs my arm once again. This time instead of pulling me toward him, he twirls me around and forces me toward the cell. The only thing stopping me from falling into those claws mere inches from me is his grip. Will’s maddened fervor increases two fold. His snout works in tandem with the claws, snapping like a foaming bear trap. He’ll break every bone in his head if he keeps hitting it on the bars like that. My body jerks with each banging. “This is your future, Beatrice,” Oliver says. “This is who your lover really is. A drooling, disgusting, monster hell bent on killing you.”

  My breath catches from the fear. Not of Will, though. For the first time, I am scared of my friend. I’ve heard stories about his ruthlessness, his selfishness, his lack of a soul, but I always defended him. That wasn’t my Oliver. Not the Oliver who held me as I cried, who endured untold torture to save my life, who makes me laugh, who understands me like no one else. But now… “He’s a literal animal,” I spit through gritted teeth, “what’s your excuse, you bastard?” Oliver doesn’t answer, but his grip tightens. With my mind, I push him back. He takes me with him, releasing me. I spin around, slapping his face as hard as I can. “You son of a bitch!”

  That exquisite face contorts. He’s stunned, either by my slap or his own behavior. I guess the latter because his face falls into confusion and melancholy. “Oh, Trixie, I—”

  “Get out!” I scream right in his face.

  Flinching, he does as I ask, fleeing like the coward I never believed he could be. When the door shuts, I let out the air I was holding. Though I’m not moving I can’t seem to catch my breath. It comes out as ragged as Will’s. I have to sit down before my knees give out. He…everyone was right. I just stare at the wolf. Will is still going nuts in an attempt to go after him. To protect me from my friend. His wound has reopened, streaking blood on the floor. I can’t take anymore. I pick up the tranq gun and fire. On impact the wolf calms and a few seconds later he slumps to the ground, finally at peace. That makes one of us. I lean back in the couch and let out a fractured sigh. And here I was afraid Will would be the one to scare my feelings for him away. That I couldn’t handle his true nature. I’m such a fool. A damned fool. I just won one war with someone I care about only to start another.

  God, with friends like mine, who needs enemies?

  Chapter Five

  Coitus Interuptus

  Around six AM the wolf howls his last for the month and transforms back into my boyfriend. It’s as painful and sickening as the first time, but when it’s over he lies in the fetal position pink as a newborn covered in the mucousy ectoplasm and fur that shed in sheets all over the floor. I open the cage and step in with his sweats as he shivers from either the cold or the adrenaline. I don’t know if I should touch him with his skin so raw. He doesn’t seem to even register my presence. Regardless I brush the matted hair off his forehead, and he glazes up at me, eyes half closed. The change takes it out of him. He’d probably sleep down here for hours. Without a word I help him up, towel the sticky goo and fur off, dress him, and guide him out of the cell.

  We shuffle to the elevator, up the two flights of stairs, and into his bathroom where I sit him on the toilet and start the shower. He smiles as I pull off his sticky sweatshirt.

  “You’re still here,” he says quietly.

  “Of course, silly.”

  The clothes end up in the hamper, and Will in the shower. I’m exhausted after only three hours of sleep. I tried to fall back into slumberland after the Oliver incident but of course couldn’t. Every time I shut my eyes, I kept seeing Will’s snout and those talons swiping inches from my face. Not even Jane Austen could cheer me up after that.

  After I’m sure he won’t topple over, I return to my own bathroom, showering as well. I’ve felt disgusting ever since I set foot in that cell. I let the hot water wash away the grime of the whole experience. I did it. I passed with flying colors. And my reward lies in my bed when I finish my shower.

  Will’s fast asleep under my pink cove
rs, face so peaceful and handsome he belongs in a painting. There’s no trace of the wolf, just the man I love. Quietly I change into my pajamas and climb in beside him, pulling his arm around me. Any thought of Oliver vanishes, and I’m asleep within minutes.

  Butterfly kisses on the back of my neck and the throb of his erection against my back draw me from dreamland. A hand reaches under my top and rolls my nipple between its fingers, sending a jolt of liquid electricity through my nerves. I moan softly in pleasure. “Good. You’re up,” he whispers.

  “It appears a part of you is too,” I chuckle before flipping over to face him. My mouth tastes of dirty kitty litter and his is probably worse, so I trail his neck then down his chest with kisses.

  “What are you doing?” he asks as my mouth continues down. Instead of answering, I kiss around his pajama bottoms while untying them. He gets the clue, turning on his back with a chuckle. “Oh.”

  I yank down his pants, exposing him. My mouth and hands work in tandem, quickly bringing him blissful relief. Thank you Cosmo. As he lies breathless after, I pop out of bed and return from the bathroom seconds later with toothpaste. I climb back into bed, straddling him. He looks on curiously as I line my finger with paste. “Open.” He obeys, eyes smiling as I put my finger on his tongue. Playfully he closes his teeth on me. I gingerly smack his shoulder. “Hey! No biting!” He releases me and I eat some toothpaste too. “There.” I lean down and kiss him with all my worth. “Good morning,” I say after I break away.

  “Best damn morning I’ve had in years,” he says.

  “Liked that, did you? I figure I owed you.”

  “Actually, I think you owe me about four more to break even.”

  I trail my hand down his bare chest. “An Alexander always pays her debts.”

  He pulls my hand away before I reach my destination. “I’m still exhausted. Give me a few minutes, okay? I’m an old man.”

  I fake pout before climbing off him. “Good thing I’m so patient and understanding.” I settle into bed, lying on my side while staring at him with my head resting on my fist.

  He mimics me. “Good thing.” He leans forward and pecks my nose, which I crinkle. “You know, you’re the best wolf-sitter I ever had.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “It actually wasn’t as bad as I thought. You were quite well behaved.” Well, except for that one time. “How much do you remember?”

  “Parts. I remember you reading to me. Feeding me. Watching you sleep and wanting to crawl up next to you.” Will begins playing with a lock of my messy hair. “I also remember what that bastard did to you.”

  Ugh. Mood killer. “He was upset,” I say lamely.

  Will releases my hair, face tensing. “That psychopath put your life in danger to prove a point. I know you think he’s your friend, but baby I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer than you. Last night was just the tip of the iceberg of what he’s capable and willing to do. I’m scared for you. He thinks you betrayed him. He’s hurt, and he will take it out on us both. Probably the whole team. But you especially.”

  “Oliver—”

  “No. Don’t you dare defend him, Bea,” he snaps. “He’s not worth the energy. I don’t want you near him, especially alone.”

  “You never did,” I say to lighten the mood.

  “I’m serious. You just got a glimpse of the real him. He’s been on his best behavior around you, but I think that’s ended.”

  “Will, I just need to talk to him.”

  Will lies on his back. “No way. He comes within three feet of you—”

  “Hey. You’re doing that caveman thing that I hate. I’m the one he wronged. I’ll deal with it.”

  “But I’m your boyfriend. We’re partners now. Someone hurts you, they hurt me and vice versa. And there is nothing you can say or do to make me not want to protect you. It’s how I’m hardwired and most women would appreciate that.”

  “I do!” Okay, this conversation is morphing into a fight. That is not happening. No way in heck. My face softens into a sweet smile. “I love the fact you care so much about me.” I trail my finger down his thick bicep. “I’ve never had someone so big,” I move my finger down his chest, “and strong,” to his shaft, “and virile,” I take him in my hand, toying with him, “willing to do anything to keep me safe. It is such a turn on.”

  He revs from zero to sixty in a second flat, hard and hot in my hand. He grabs my wrist and rolls over onto me, all but ripping my pajama top off before roughly kneading my breasts. Pinching, pulling in time to his erection grinding against my thigh. This is more like it. The only thing stopping him entering me is the cotton of my pajama bottoms. No problem there. He yanks them down. Common sense, who I so hate at moments like this, sends up a flare the moment his manhood brushes my now bare thigh.

  “Wait,” I say.

  “What?” he asks, physically pained.

  “Condom.”

  But just as I reach for the nightstand, the alarm goes off. No, no, no, no, NO!

  Right above my bathroom door is a tiny white square no larger than an Altoids tin that now emits a huge Claxton sound. I hate it not just for the ear splintering noise but what it means. Duty calls. Monsters to catch. No sex for us.

  “Shit,” Will says, climbing off me.

  Dear God in heaven am I never having sex with this man? We could ignore it, but someone would come looking for us. Having no choice, Will and I get out on opposite sides of the bed, collecting our discarded clothes. He rushes toward his room, and I toward my dresser. Five minutes. It couldn’t have gone off five minutes later.

  I beat Will to the conference room. All the other F.R.E.A.K.S minus the real agents who are on their way and will be debriefed later wait, and I take my usual seat between Carl and Oliver’s empty chair. George stands at the head of the table typing on his computer which is attached to the projector. He never puts nice pictures up like puppies or a shirtless Colin Farrell. No, it’s always dismembered corpses or scary monsters. Nancy takes out her earphones with a sigh. Nobody likes the slideshow of death.

  Will rushes in a minute after me, dressed in dark blue slacks and white dress shirt. He doesn’t even glance at me as he sits. When we’re at work, we are not a couple. We will not be lovey dovey in public, I will not receive preferential treatment. All business from here on. Professional. God, he looks hot. I just want to run my tongue—

  “Okay everyone,” George says. He uses the clicker to dim the lights and turn on the projector. “You’re going to Appalachia Summit State Park in North Carolina. Nearest population center is Crawford.”

  “I like North Carolina,” Nancy says. “It’s pretty.”

  “What happened?” Will asks.

  “The body of an unidentified male was discovered in the park.” George clicks to the first photo. Gross. I just love pictures of severed legs. This one also has a raw claw mark on the calf and pitted bite marks along the thigh. At least there’s no blood. “This flagged the system. An expert ID’d the wounds and surrounding paw tracks as made by a wolf.”

  “So?” I ask.

  “There are no wolves in North Carolina,” George explains. “Not for hundreds of miles. The expert also puts the wolf at six feet long and close to two hundred pounds.”

  “Werewolf,” Andrew says.

  We can’t help it. All our eyes momentarily dart to Will, whose gaze remains on the screen. “Any idea who the leg belongs to?” Will asks.

  “No body. Only the leg so far.” George presses the button and a picture of the leg from farther away fills the screen. From this angle I can see the leg was severed at the hip, ripped off at the socket. The bulb of the femur even pokes out of the fleshy mass. “It was discovered by a hiker on one of the paths this morning.”

  “No ID?” Carl asks.

  “No. All we know is he’s a white male, late teens, early twenties. Nothing more. You’re going in fairly blind.”

  “Any missing persons in the area?” Andrew asks.

  “About a dozen in th
e past year, but it’s a college area. Transient. There may be more not reported. But to answer the next question, this is the first reported non-dog mauling in the area.”

  “Um, does anyone else think it’s odd he doesn’t have clothes on?” I ask.

  “I’m sorry?” George asks.

  “She’s right,” Will pipes in. “Even with the limbs ripped off he should still have on a pant leg or shoes and socks.”

  “Maybe he was a nudist,” Nancy suggests.

  “Or taking a bath in a stream when they found him,” Carl says.

  “Or they made him strip for some weird sex thing,” Nancy adds.

  “Werewolf sex perverts. You’re the expert there, Bea,” Carl chuckles. I just roll my eyes, but Will glares at Carl until his smile drops. “Sorry.”

  Will’s eyes move back toward George. “What’s our cover?”

  “Haven’t gotten that far yet. You’ll have one when you’re wheels down.”

  “I say we use the same tact as in Cleveland,” I say. “Tell them we believe he’s one of our open missing person’s cases. Worked there.”

  “I’ll have the Charlotte field office begin the paperwork,” George says. “As usual cars will be waiting at the airport. The plane leaves in thirty. The others will meet you at the airfield. Good hunting, everyone.”

  We all rise to leave, but Will’s voice stops us. “Pack for outdoors and pack warm. I’ll take care of weapons and supplies.”

  “I’ll go load Oliver,” I offer.

  “Carl, help her. Nancy, when you’re done, come find me. Hurry people.”

  “Don’t forget my Bette!” I call after Will.

  “Perish the thought.”

  I don’t really need help with Oliver. I usually do this alone but don’t protest. Oliver’s door is locked and my key is upstairs, so I use my power to turn the lock on the other side. Not the first time I’ve broken into his room. Even at his most vulnerable he trusts me. That used to extend both ways.

  The rat bastard lies on his stomach on the bed, skin whiter than usual against the dark blue sheets. He’s dead to the world. Close to literally. I could blast Guns & Roses and he wouldn’t even stir. Normally I’d brush that stray strand off his forehead. Now I can’t stand to look at him, let alone touch him. We get to work. I pull out his suitcase from the closet, replacing designer chic with designer rustic attire while Carl readies his travel coffin from under the bed.