In the Midnight Howl (Peculiar Mysteries Book 5)

by Renee George

  “Good enough to eat?”

  He chuckled. “And then some.” He gestured toward the door. “You ready?”

  “Yes. Let me grab my purse, and we can go.” Wee haw! I was going on a picnic. I ran upstairs. The backpack was next to a pile of my dirty clothes. I should probably drop it off at the police station, but I figured it would keep until morning.

  I forced myself not to race downstairs singing Rod Stewart’s Tonight’s the Night. It was a picnic. At night. Under the stars. I swooned at the thought. Most of my dates considered dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings a romantic night out.

  When I got back downstairs, Brady held out his hand. Giddy as a school girl, I took it. He held the door open for me and gave me a boost up into his truck. After, he closed the door and went around the front to the driver’s side.

  Before he started the truck, he said, “Oh, hey, before I got distracted by your...uhm, beautiful eyes, he gave me a courtesy once over, and I grinned. “That guy who I saw leaving Ruth’s. Do you know who he is?”

  “That was the illustrious Richard Stenson. He took over for Lowry as the Tri-State Council president. Why?”

  “About two weeks ago, I showed up at Evelyn’s about an hour early. I’d wanted to get an early start on the day because of the heat. I saw that fella leaving Evelyn’s driveway as I pulled into Stony Park.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive. That mustache is hard to mistake.”

  “Well, shit.” It seemed like while I was holding things back from Stenson, he was holding things back from me. “That’s not good.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “So, where we going?” I asked Brady after we’d been driving for about twenty minutes deeper and deeper into the backcountry.

  “I have a cabin out here by a lake. I bought it as a place to shift and run.” He shook his head. “And drink when I needed a different kind of running.” He cast a sideways glance at me. “I’ve cleaned it up, too. Just so you don’t think I’m trying to hide any bodies.”

  He was so cute with his teasing that I had to laugh. “Don’t you know? Good friends don’t rat you out, they help you hide the bodies.”

  “Is that what we are?” He reached over and slid his fingers between mine. “Good friends?”

  My mouth went dry as worked on getting my breathing under control. Christ, having this man touch me, even something so simple as holding my hand, was like taking a seltzer bath. Everything tingled. “Yes,” I managed to say. “The best.”

  “Excellent.” Brady squeezed my hand, and it made my little Willy, aka my va-jay-jay clench. And, damn it, I could smell the musk of my arousal. A low growl rumbled in Brady’s chest. Apparently, he could smell me too.

  I blushed. Lord have mercy, you’d think I was a virgin the way I was acting. But for whatever reason, Brady made me feel like one. He made me feel like whatever happened between us, it would be my first time.

  When I tried to pull my hand from his, he squeezed tighter. The weight of his possession revved my engines. “How long is it going to take to get to this cabin?”

  “About thirty seconds.” He did a one-armed turn down a small gravel road. His feral grin set my nerves ablaze.

  The sun hung low in the sky casting orange and gold hues over a large pond. A thicket of trees surrounded the banks, with an opening on our side where a small log cabin served as the only audience to its beauty. Some might say the place was isolated, but I called it Nirvana.

  Brady brought my fingers to his lips and kissed the tips. “Do you like it?”

  “Oh, yes,” I said with too much breath. “It’s stunning.”

  “I hoped you would.” He got out of the truck, and before I could get my hands on the door handle, he was already there, offering his hand to help me out. I must have given him a queer look because he said, “I hope you don’t mind. I haven’t been on a date in over twenty years so you can tell me if I’m getting it wrong.”

  I went up on my tip-toes and placed on soft kiss on his lips. “You’re getting everything just right.”

  He gazed down at me. The reflection of the setting sun filled his irises with fire. “I’m glad you approve.” He turned to the truck bed. “I’ll get the food and blanket. Go find us a flat spot to set up.”

  “Oh, we really are having a picnic.” I rubbed my hands together. “Yay. I’m starving.”

  “Woman, I have a feeling you’d be starving after a ten-course meal.”

  The way he said woman made me glad to be a woman. Oh, baby. Yes. “See, you know me so well already.”

  I found an area under a shade tree near the bank of the pond. Far enough back that the mosquitos would be less interested. Brady followed me down with a big woven basket and a thick blanket.

  “Is here all right?” I asked.

  “Perfect.”

  His approval thrilled me, which made my inner-feminist moan. Shut up, I told it. I can get excited by this excellent specimen of a man if I want to, so there.

  He put down the basket and splayed out the blanket. “You have a seat.”

  I found a spot near the middle and got comfortable. I smiled when he popped the top on a bottle of cold root beer and handed it to me.

  “How did you know I liked root beer?”

  “You ordered it with your jackfruit burger the other day.”

  Oh, yeah. Aww. He’d paid attention. “Thanks.”

  “You enjoy the scene while I make us a fire.” He walked back up to the truck and came down with a bundle of split wood and a smaller bundle of kindling.

  He crouched several feet away—close enough for ambiance, but far enough away it wouldn’t add to the sweltering heat--and built the kindling teepee. It gave me the ultimate view of his backside in those jeans. Rawr.

  Brady, sweet, Brady, your perfectly muscled ass is all the fire I need. “You need any help over there?” I took a long sip of the root beer. “It sure looks like thirsty work.” And, mamma, he was making me thirsty.

  “I’ve got it.” A serpentine flame crawled up the sticks.

  “You sure do,” I agreed.

  He turned his hot gaze on me. “Are you ogling my ass?”

  “As often as you let me.” I grinned and took another swig of my drink. Then belched. Loudly. Longly. All kinds of wrongly. Suave, I wasn’t. “Oops. Sorry.”

  “You are unexpected.” With the kindling blazing, he started building another pyramid with the split logs.

  “I could say the same about you.” I leaned back on an elbow. “I was raised by a single father.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yep.” I chanced another drink. “My mom left us shortly after Hans was born. She told my dad she needed to be free.”

  “That sucks.”

  “It really did. I had no one to teach me how to act like a girl, let alone a woman. My dad treated me like a son because he knew about boys. Girls were a mystery.” I snorted a laugh. “That’s probably why my mom left. And that’s definitely why I got called Willy and not Wilhelmina, but really, what a mouthful that would have been to grow up with.”

  “Do you see her?”

  “My mom?”

  He nodded.

  “No. But that don’t bother me.” I waved away a mosquito. “I’m not telling you this, so you’ll feel sorry for me.”

  He’d finished the fire building and sat down on the blanket next to me. “Then why are you telling me?”

  “Because I want you to know that I don’t know how to be delicate, feminine. I don’t cook, I certainly don’t clean, I leave my laundry on the floor, I sometimes forget to shower unless I smell bad enough that I can’t stand myself. I’m good at my job, but I’m not good at much else.”

  “Basically, you’re a teenage boy.”

  “Without the penis and testosterone.”

  He chuckled. “That’s something to be thankful for.” He wiped my cheek with his thumb. “’Squito,” he said. “I should have brought some bug spray.”

  “You can’t think of e
verything.” Had I blown it? I’d laid all the worse things about me out there for the man, why? Was I trying to drive him away? Maybe. He scared the ever-loving piss out of me. “Speaking of cooking, what did you bring us?”

  He named the food as he took it out of the basket. “Smoked turkey, gouda cheese, potato salad, deviled eggs, watermelon slices, and for dessert, I made us some chocolate parfait.”

  “You managed all that today?”

  “I made the potato salad and deviled eggs last night.”

  “If you thought my belching was bad, you might not like what the deviled eggs do to me.”

  He handed me the plate of deviled eggs and grinned. “The potato salad has hard boiled eggs too.”

  “You’ve been warned.” The deviled eggs were decorated with paprika. I picked one up and ate it in a single bite. The taste of mayo, pickles, a hint of mustard, and some onion mixed with creamy hard-boiled yoke did a dance on my taste buds. I raised my brow at Brady. “You are playing with fire.”

  “I like fire.” He leaned over and kissed me. His tongue swiped the corner of my mouth. “Yep,” he said. “Them’s good eggs.”

  “They certainly are.” Every bit of the meal was delicious.

  When we finished our plates and started in on the chocolate parfait, Brady said, “As you can see, I don’t need someone who cooks. I’m not trying to make you into a happy homemaker if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I’m not worried,” I lied.

  “Sure,” he said. “I know what it looks like when a wild animal wants to bolt. I’ve seen it enough in the mirror. I’m not looking to domesticate you, either. I like you, Willy.”

  “I like you, too.”

  “Then it doesn’t have to be more complicated than that.”

  I took a bite of the parfait. It was what I imagined Heaven might taste like if you could cut a slice and put it in a spoon. “Keep feeding me like this, and I might have to marry you,” I said dreamily. I heard Brady’s spoon clink then realized what I’d said. “I didn’t mean that like it sounded.”

  Brady, who’d been putting empty plates and containers in the basket as we finished each part or the meal, took my parfait.

  “Hey,” I pouted. I guess dinner had concluded. “Can I have that wrapped up to go?”

  The sun dipped just below the horizon, and the fire cast a warm glow on Brady’s gorgeous and serious face. I was usually good at reading people. Liar, not a liar. Innocent, guilty. That kind of thing. But I could not read what was going on in Brady’s head right then. All I could think about was all those women who had relentlessly pursued my dad, and how he’d persistently ran away. I didn’t want Brady to run.

  “I’m sorry,” I sputtered. “I didn’t mean it, okay. We’re good. No worries. I’m not trying to trap you or anything like that.”

  “I don’t think that, Willy.” He frowned. “You make some giant leaps sometimes.”

  “It’s my job. I’m supposed to gather all information and guess what it all means. Usually, I’m right.”

  “Not this time.”

  “Then why so serious all of a sudden?”

  “Because I feel serious about you.” He leaned over and kissed me again. He tasted of spiced chocolate and buttery whipped cream. “If you haven’t noticed.”

  “I want to hop on you like a frog wants a lily pad, but I think there is still something holding you back.” I remembered Ruth’s earlier epiphany. “But if I’m being honest, I’m afraid you’re going to hurt me.”

  “If I’ve seemed hesitant, it’s only because,” he rubbed his face, “I haven’t talked to Jo Jo. The boy took care of me when I should have been taking care of him. Now that we both know the truth about his mother, things have changed between us for the better. I’m worried our new found peace might end when I tell him I want to be with you.”

  “When? Not if?”

  “When, Willy.” He caressed my face, and like the cat I am, I nuzzled in. “I’m going to tell him. Since this Evelyn thing, he hasn’t been around much to talk.”

  “You’re not still afraid he’s involved, are you?”

  “No, not with the murder. But he’s hiding something.”

  I pressed my lips to his palm. “Like son, like father.”

  “Christ, I love those freckles across your nose.” He kissed the bridge of my nose. “Your apple cheeks.” He kissed them next. “Your downturned lips.” I moved to meet his mouth. He reached back behind my head as he deepened the kiss and tugged the pins from my loose bun. My damp hair fell about my shoulders. He brought a handful to his nose. “And these curls. Damn, woman, I could lose myself in these curls.”

  I rose to my knees and crawled across Brady’s lap to straddle his legs. “I love this tussle of cocoa brown hair that always looks like it’s three weeks past a trim.” I ran my fingers through his hair and scooted forward in his lap. He ran his hands up my bare thighs. I bit my lower lip then said, “I really like that, too.”

  He grinned.

  I ran my fingers over his chest and across his broad shoulders. I remembered how he watched me tackle Roger Parks, and he didn’t try to interfere or jump in. “I love the way you make me feel like a woman while treating me like an equal.” I reached down and pulled up my camisole top and tugged it over my head. Surprise, well, probably not. No bra. Brady’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “I love that look on your face right now while you see my body for the first time.”

  His hands went to my hips, my bare waist, and slid up to cup my breasts. He graze my nipple with his thumb. “Yeah, that too,” I said breathlessly.

  Brady pulled his T-shirt off, which would have been my next move. Thank God, he beat me to it. He had a fine dusting of dark hair across the top of his chest and a heartbreak trail down the center of his stomach that kept going past the button on his jeans.

  His hands slid to my back, his fingers kneading my muscles I raised up and kissed him, loving the feel of our bare chests touching. Brady held me close with one arm as he turned me over so that my back was on the blanket and he was on top of me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pressing against the hard erection in his jeans.

  Warmth gathered at my groin, and it wasn’t just the hot July heat. Holy smokes, Brady made me vibrate. Sex, in the past, had always been about the destination, but this man was taking me on a slow journey, and I didn’t want it to end. He cupped my breast again, his mouth moving to my neck, my collar, my chest, until his mouth covered my nipple. I arched my back and groaned. When Brady looked up at me, his eyes had turned a brighter shade of amber, almost gold. He licked his lips, and I saw his canines had become longer, more pointed, more coyote.

  “It’s been a long time,” he said, his voice low and hoarse with lust.

  I reached for his hair and ran my claws along his scalp. He wasn’t the only one losing control. I moaned again as he sucked my nipple between his lips, his teeth grazing my skin, but not breaking it. He moved against me, his groin rubbing against mine, pushing the seam of my jean shorts against my sweet spot. The familiar tingle and pressure of a building orgasm had me hooking my calf behind his legs, urging him to quicken his pace. My hands in his hair, I begged him to suck me harder. His growls of pure animal lust drove me home as I climaxed, my moans of pleasure quieting the crickets and tree frogs.

  I shuddered to a finish and threw my hands to the blanket. I laughed. The pure joy of the moment burbled up out me in an uncontrollable way. Brady dropped to his elbow and joined me. We both laughed like it was something we hadn’t done in a very long time.

  When we finally got control, Brady gazed down at me, suddenly serious again. His teeth were still out. The better to eat me, I thought. He rubbed himself between my legs again the feel of his erection sharpened the edge the first climax had dulled. “I want you, Willy. Goddamn, I want you so bad, I ache.”

  “Then have me,” I said, my eyes watering with my need. “Have me. I’m yours.”

  “Yes,” he said kissing my tears. “And I�
�m yours.”

  I hadn’t realized that my sharp kitty fangs had come out until I cut my tongue on them. When Brady’s tongue darted in my mouth, his chest rumbled at the taste of my blood. He held himself up as he undid the button and zipper on my shorts and between his hands and my feet we got both the shorts and my underwear off. I wanted him inside me as bad as he wanted to be there, and when his jeans were around his thighs, I reached between his legs and put him inside me.

  He slid the rest of the way in, his thickness filling me with so much love and passion that I cried out with joy, with pleasure. He stroked into me over and over until the friction between us ripened the fruit of our lovemaking.

  I ran my claws across his back. Brady reached under my arms and gripped my shoulders, holding me in place as his thrusts became more urgent. His opened his eyes, his golden gaze wild with abandon. He howled. The warmth of ecstasy eroded my senses. I screamed, “Yes!” bucking against him as my second orgasm stripped away my inhibitions leaving nothing between us but raw emotion and unrestrained bliss. Brady cried out, a moan poured from his lips, and he finally let go, thrusting once, then again, and holding us joined until he was completely spent.

  This time when we collapsed, neither of us laughed. Brady held me while I cried. At one point, I stroked his cheeks, and I swear he’d shed his own tears. I felt safe. Cared for. Content.

  After a few minutes, he murmured in my ear, “Are you purring?”

  My eyes widened. Yep. Sure enough. “That’s new.”

  “I like it,” he said, stroking my damp curls from my sweaty face. He kissed me. “I don’t want to lose you, Willy.”

  “I don’t want to be lost.”

  A sudden shout of surprise brought us both up quick. I gather the blanket to my chest wishing I had my gun. Getting attacked with your pants down seemed wholly unfair. Brady struggled to get his jeans up over his thighs.

  “Who’s there?” I called out. The light of the fire made it difficult for my bobcat eyes to see our intruder.

  “It’s me,” the voice said. “Jo Jo.”

  “Oh, dear God,” I croaked. “Shit, fuck.”

  “I don’t need a play by play,” Jo Jo said.