Curragh’s languid steps quickened, now wide awake. “Are you fucking kidding me? He shot himself? Where’d they find the body?”
“Same place we left it. Only he was alive then. Interesting, huh?”
Curragh paced. “No. Not interesting. Fucked up. When I found out he wasn’t lying about the rooftop, I thought we could get more out of him with a lot more pressure. Now we’ve got nothing. You made bacon? How did I not smell that?”
“Don’t ask me,” Xavier shot back with an amused smirk. “I kept expecting you to roll over when I was making it. But you were like a corpse.”
“Speaking of corpses,” Curragh mumbled, chomping on a thick slice of bacon meat. “Let’s go to the morgue and see what’s up.”
Xavier nodded. “That kid surprised me. He keeps coming through for us.”
“No. Get rid of that look on your face.” He threw the bacon at Xavier’s head. “We’re not letting that shrimp into our pack.” Grabbing a fresh slice, he munched on it, glaring at his friend. “And what kind of a name is Howard? Who names their pup fucking Howard?”
Xavier poured coffee into one of the three cups they owned, and handed it over. “Doesn’t mean we won’t be nice to him. Keep him on our good side.”
Curragh shrugged and drank a large gulp. “You’re too nice.”
“Most people would disagree.”
“Do I look like a person to you?” He drank the coffee down, picked up more bacon and headed away. “Let’s get going.”
Xavier cocked a dark eyebrow. “You going to wear that?”
Curragh laughed, cock swinging as he went to one of the three armoires that stood against the East wall. Matching, they were in the style created before the middle ages. Crude lines, unfinished wood, as though constructed before modern tools were invented, even though these were handmade just five years ago by a local woodworker. The wolves had snatched them up on sight.
Ripped up jeans, Harley Davidson boots and a black t-shirt later, Curragh went in to brush his teeth while Xavier jingled the keys. “Despite acting like such a primate, you sure do love your pearly whites.”
Curragh came out wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “The ladies like minty fresh.” Off the keys, he said, “I guess fuckhead didn’t take the car.”
Xavier’s black beard spread wide on a grin. “Who are you talking to here? After the lake? You think I’m a moron?”
Chapter Eleven
“I know it’s self-inflicted,” Kara told the coroner, or medical examiner, as Dr. Strathers preferred to be called. “I was there. I just told you that. What about the bruises. The cut on his nose. Did you find any other DNA besides his own? From his attackers?”
The skinny, scruffy-haired, be-speckled twenty-five year old coroner stared at her blankly. As usual, he stood behind Dr. Strathers. Kara glanced to the kid and frowned as he shook his head.
“Dr. Peters did the tests himself and the evidence came back clean. They must have had on gloves. In my day people weren’t as wise to how we work here. I blame the media and shows like C.S.I.” He gave her a look like the world had gone to hell in a hand basket. The man was very near retirement and from the times Kara had come into contact with him, clearly longed for that day to come soon. She didn’t blame him, rough job, but it sure was annoying for her to have to deal with.
She sucked on her tongue, thinking. She turned to Dr. Howard Peters. He was always here, but never talked directly to her. Addressing him now, she forced his hand. “You found nothing.”
He shook his head, lips tight.
“Open your mouth!”
“Uh…no. He was clean.”
They stared at each other. She had the distinct impression it was a standoff. “Take me to the body.”
He hesitated. “Uh…sure.” He walked past her out into the hallway with an awkwardness unparalleled.
Poor kid. She turned to the coroner. “You wanna come?”
He blinked and shoved his hands into his lab coat pockets. “Dr. Peters can handle it. May as well…” He trailed off.
With warmth in her eyes, Kara offered, “Why don’t you go do what you wanna do?”
Dr. Strathers’ white eyebrows shot up. “What’s that?”
“Go to a nice beach somewhere and enjoy the sun.”
A wishful glow lit behind his old eyes. He walked over to a folder and aimlessly picked it up, his mind on the Riviera.
Alone in the hallway, Kara’s thoughts drifted to fantasy, too. To hands sliding down her sides. Hot kisses waking her up in a way she hadn’t been in years. Maybe ever. She was so taken with the memory, it took her a second to register that the man from her daydream was walking straight toward her, his back lit up by the sun from the rear exit. And he wasn’t alone.
Stunned, she grazed a quick glance down his body, at first not registering he was real. Man did he wear those jeans well. She glanced to his friend, a male equal in size—almost black eyes, dark hair, dark beard and very hard features. The two of them walking side by side was like something out of the Wild West films. His friend leaned in toward her, nostrils flared as he neared.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Both men’s footsteps slowed, and Curragh’s eyes were narrowed in disbelief. Then his friend punched him in the arm and they had a silent communication that ended with Curragh looking like he wanted to kill the guy.
“Answer me. What could you possibly be doing here?”
“We lost a dear friend,” his buddy offered, but she didn’t believe him for a second. Not with that tone.
“Oh really? What’s your dear friend’s name?” Kara’s face was like stone. “I’d love to pay my respects.”
Curragh’s jaw ticked and he cocked his head a little. “Don’t let the suit fool you. She’s a cop.”
Her stomach twisted in anger. “Cops wear suits, asshole. I’m an investigator.”
“Ooooo…” his friend smiled, enjoying this. How much does he know? “She’s calling you names. You gonna take that, Cur?”
Curragh made Kara seem relaxed compared to him. “The lady is pissed that I saved her reputation.”
Kara exploded, “I am not pissed you saved my…I’m pissed you—” she bit off the rest and looked to the wall at her right, struggling for control. She hadn’t meant to lose her temper like that. With a quick look behind her, she was grateful to find they were alone. Just the three of them. Her and these two giants. She wished she had heels on again so that she wouldn’t have to leap up to punch Curragh in the face.
“Let’s go,” he snarled, turning on his heel and heading for the exit.
His friend stood where he was, dark eyes glinting in the florescent light. “You’re very interesting to me.”
“Xavier! NOW!”
The dark-eyed one turned his head. Even through his beard she could see how strong his jaw was. And his cheekbones were very high. Looking back to her, he smiled disarmingly. “He never talks to me like that. So, I think he means it.”
“XAVIER.”
“Yes. He means it. It was a pleasure, Ms…”
“DON’T MAKE ME COME BACK THERE.”
Kara glared at both of them. Curragh was waiting by the open exit door, ready to leap back and grab his friend. Soon she was alone in the hallway, torn to pieces on the inside.
It was infuriating that she wanted him to come back, and also to never see him again. At war with herself, she began to shake. Taking several deep breaths, the normally very controlled detective leaned her back against the wall and waited for her blood to slow.
“You coming?”
She looked over and saw the be-speckled coroner sticking his head into the hallway from the door to her right. He glanced toward the exit and back to her, expecting an answer. She nodded, pushed off the wall, and configured her expression with as much detachment and disinterest as she could muster.
“Yeah. Sorry.” Inside she listened to his description of the injuries the Russian had incurred before the gunsh
ot wound to the head.
The young doctor was only about five years younger than her, but she felt like he was a child. He stammered too much and could barely meet her eyes. Finally, she interrupted his ramblings of scientific mumbo jumbo and asked, “You’re telling me there’s NO evidence of who did this to him?”
Dr. Peters blinked and withdrew his hand from pointing to a bruise on the Russian’s neck. “Nothing. They must have known what they were going to do…and you know…wore gloves. Prepared for it.”
Kara sucked on her lips, staring at the corpse. “Cover him up,” she grated, pacing the room twice before, “What about under the fingernails. Any skin tissue there?”
“Only his own,” the kid shrugged. “That’s the first place we look.”
“Of course it is. Alright, great. Thank you.” She flipped around and headed for her car.
Chapter Twelve
Sitting in their Camaro in the back parking lot of Northwestern Memorial, Curragh stared at the building while Xavier tapped on the steering wheel. He was drumming the beat of Van Morrison’s famous song. Then he sang, changing the lyrics to suit the moment. “My brown-eyed cop. Da na na na—”
“—Shut up!” Curragh growled, eyes locked on the door. “Howard is probably in there telling her all about what we really are.”
Xavier’s hands dropped to his lap. “He wouldn’t.”
“He’s a pup. With tits like hers, he won’t be able to keep his trap shut.”
Xavier chuckled. “They are nice. How do they feel?”
Curragh cut a warning glance to his friend. “Like trouble. Lay off it.”
“I can’t believe you fucked a cop. YOU! Man, this is too good.”
“I didn’t know” grumbled Curragh, looking back to the door. “From the tight dress, cleavage and her hair all long and shiny, who would’ve guessed they let someone like that on the…” He trailed off, focused. She was inside. They had to wait until she left so they could talk to that puny wolf and see what he knew and what he’d hidden…or not. And Curragh lied to himself that it was the only reason he was watching. “I wouldn’t have touched her with YOUR dick if I knew.”
“Mind if I have a crack at her?”
Without knowing he was even going to, Curragh punched Xavier hard in the face, throwing the other wolf back against the driver’s side door. Xavier’s eyes glowed dark amber as he held up his hands. “I was joking!”
Curragh blinked, his wolf thrashing inside his soul. His eyes were the color of sea foam and he leaned back, panting. “Fuck. Sorry.”
“Right,” Xavier said under his breath. Then he glanced to the hospital. “There she is.”
Curragh’s head turned so fast it nearly gave him whiplash. He searched, but couldn’t see Kara. When chuckling drew his attention left, he snarled. “Not funny.”
“I think it’s fucking hilarious. She really got to you, didn’t she?” Xavier’s beard spread wide on a grin. “Because she fooled you? Is that it? Where’d you meet her?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m never fucking her again, so drop it.” He looked away. “There she is.” Annoyed, he added, “For real this time.”
Kara had just stepped into the sunlight, a strong frown creasing her striking features, the shine of her hair glinting even with the tight bun. She pulled her phone out of her jacket and kept walking. Probably to her car, was Curragh’s best guess.
As soon as she had her back to them, he said, “Let’s go.”
The wolves got out of the car and watched her talking on her phone, the distance growing between them as they made their way to the hospital. Xavier texted they were on their way, his head down.
Tuning in his supernatural hearing, Curragh heard, “Whoever it was that attacked him, they didn’t leave evidence. Have you had someone comb the place?” After a pause, “Okay. I’m coming in.”
By the time she hung up and pulled out her keys, the wolves were inside and heading for Howard,
Curragh stopped just as they were about to walk inside the room. “I left my phone in the car.”
“Okay,” Xavier slid his into his jeans pocket and, looking around to make sure no one saw him, reached for the door.
Outside Curragh made a beeline for Kara. She was backing up her Cadillac, so he walked faster. Too fast for being out in public like this. Struggling to force his wolf to calm the fuck down, he slowed and threw a glowering frown behind him to see if Xavier was onto him. He wasn’t.
With a quick glance around the lot, he took off running, keeping his pace relatively human. Just as Kara was about to drive off, he hit the trunk. She slammed the brakes and screeched to a halt. He went to her window and knocked on it as she stared out at him, brown eyes rounder than usual. As it rolled down, she demanded, “Where did you come from? I thought you—”
“Let me in.”
She blinked at him. With a short nod, she jogged her chin for the passenger side. He strode over, looking back toward the hospital’s back entrance, his heart beating too fast. Inside the car, he pulled his phone from his pocket and said, “Go.” Then he typed a text: “Saw two of Viktor’s men hovering outside. They took off when they saw me. I’m following them.” He waited a few seconds before hitting send.
“What do you mean, GO? Where am I going? I can’t believe I even let you in my car. What the hell am I doing?” She turned left out of the lot adding with biting sarcasm, “Besides dying of curiosity.”
With his gaze locked ahead, Curragh told her, “Find a quiet place and park.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Where am I going?” Kara looked over to the man whose head grazed the roof of her not-small car. He was staring forward with an angry expression.
“West Polk and South Jefferson.”
She glanced to the road, then back at him. “I’ve got a gun by the way.”
He snorted.
“I’m trained to use it.”
“You won’t have to,” he grumbled, looking out the side window. She couldn’t help but check him out because those jeans framed his thigh muscles like it was their mission in life. That’s when she spotted the growing bulge in his crotch. Her eyes widened and she hurriedly looked back at the road. She knew she was wet, and she hated herself for it. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered.
“You’re not wrong.”
“I have a feeling all of this is wrong.”
He grunted. For the remaining ten minutes they drove in silence. When Kara pulled into the mostly deserted grouping of industrial buildings, she asked herself for the millionth time what the hell they were doing.
But something told her she knew.
She knew what he wanted.
She reached to the console between them and put the CTS in park. He was on her so fast she gasped. Pulling her jacket off her shoulders as his hot tongue took possession of her. He groped her breasts through her long-sleeve button-up shirt, and ripped off two of the buttons. She yelped, “Dammit!” He stared down at the ruined shirt and then met her eyes. In the overcast light of day, the green in his was truly gorgeous.
“Fuck it,” she moaned, grabbing the back of his head and kissing him with everything she had.
They fumbled with the seat for more room and he pulled her slacks down as she kicked off her shoes, mouths coming back to each other again and again. Heat pooled out between her thighs as they groped each other like they couldn’t stop. He lifted her onto his lap and grinded against her for a second. They both looked around to make sure they were still alone, and satisfied, kissed again as he unzipped his jeans and unleashed that enormous fucking cock.
“I can’t do this,” he groaned into her lips as she pushed her panties out of the way.
“I know,” she breathed as he entered her. “We’ve got to stop.” His head fell back a little as he filled her all the way, undulating his hips deliciously. “Oh my God,” she murmured into the rough muscles on his neck. He moaned as she bit him, and grabbed her by the hair to move her lips with the best kiss she’d ever ha
d. It stayed in rhythm with smooth thrusts, never speeding up or slowing down. She was drenched, her nipples tight. He pulled out her breasts and tried in the small space to suck on them, gasping against her naked flesh before he gave up and focused on fucking her senseless.
Over and over they stole quick glances around to make sure they were safe, and then let their bodies enjoy something illicit they’d both regret. As the heat became fire, he cried out with an animalistic roar, pounding into her with so much power Kara felt she might break. She held onto him and felt her own climax rise and meet his. She whimpered into his ear as he gasped for air, “Dammit. Why did we do this?”
“Fuck,” he murmured into her cheek as he kissed it.
She climbed off and collapsed onto the driver’s seat, weak in body and conviction. Getting dressed, she ruefully shook her head at the missing buttons. Her career was too important to her to be fucking a man like him. He was a criminal on several counts she knew about. How many others she didn’t?
“I’m taking you back.” She looked over to see his reaction.
He stared into his own thoughts, zipping up his pants. His jaw tightened suddenly, and he nodded. “Yeah.”
“Great,” she muttered, turning the car on. Her heart, off. They didn’t talk the entire way back.
Chapter Fourteen
To Curragh, the ride back to the hospital was taking forever. He was furious at himself. Not only had he been weak, now her smell was all over him. He couldn’t get caught like this. And he wanted to take her again. Every side-road they passed, he had to force himself not to tell her to pull over. They were still a few miles from the hospital when he couldn’t take it anymore. “Drop me off here.”
She shot a surprised frown his way and stopped the car without argument. He kept expecting her to ask questions. Where he lived. What he did. His last name. It was like she didn’t care if she ever saw him again. With all the women he’d been with, that never happened.
Werewolves of Chicago: Curragh (Werewolves of... Book 6) Page 4