Werewolves of Chicago: Curragh (Werewolves of... Book 6)

by Faleena Hopkins

  “No, you never do. And where did you move from?”

  Kara paused. She hadn’t thought about that, and was kicking herself as she threw out the first thing that came to her mind. “North Dakota.”

  Ever watchful, he nodded and smiled. “No accent.”

  “I’m from Mi…Montana originally.” Curragh had poked his head out and distracted her. He vanished again. “The lower part. Never really got an accent. So how long have you two been married?” She’d addressed the question to the young beauty, and smiled at her, waiting for only her to answer.

  Bill Tutors cut in, instead. “One month ago. I’m a lucky man.” He kissed the girl’s hand and patted it, laying it on his thigh. He met the fake Ms. Phillips’ eyes with a challenge.

  And that’s when Kara realized it. He knew. He knew everything! That the girl was too young. That Kara wasn’t really Mrs. Phillips. He was probably trying to figure out who she worked for. The cops or Kruglov. “You are!” Goosebumps slid down her spine and she stiffened. “Very lucky.”

  In the window behind Bill Tutors’ shoulder Curragh appeared. Kara caught him in her periphery and used the action of moving her hair out of her face to glance over and see what he was doing. His eyes locked with hers. There was a warning in them. He wanted her to know she was in trouble. Not from him. He’s not working for Kruglov? Or is he? She had no idea. But now she had nothing left to lose, and all the reason to believe him that she was in danger.

  With everyone in the van listening, Kara asked point blank, “So, why would a man who has done so much for the city, marry a child sold on the black market?” His cunning smile vanished. Kara leaned forward. “Paying for the privilege? Or was this Kruglov’s gift for something you did for him?”

  “Who are you?” Tutors demanded with a voice like ice. He dropped the girl’s hand.

  “Chicago P.D. you piece of shit.”

  The back window exploded as Curragh and Xavier crashed through. From the other direction behind her, came three bodyguards brandishing rifles. Kara threw the pie at one of them, splattering him in the face and blinding him, momentarily. Weaponless, she leapt over the coffee table onto the girl and screamed into her wire, “Backup! Backup!” Bill leapt up and ran from the room as Curragh and his friend knocked the guns out of the other two bodyguard’s hands, then turned the weapons on the new arrivals who ran, also armed, into the room. Curragh and Xavier shot them dead. Kara gaped at them.

  “Get the girl outta here!” Curragh shouted at her, throwing one of the guns over. She caught it and pulled the teenage girl off the couch, running for the broken window. Around a corner came another bodyguard. The Russian girl screamed. Kara aimed and fired with quick precision. She didn’t stick around to watch him fall to the floor.

  “Come on! What am I saying, you can’t understand me!” She yanked the girl over the broken glass, their shoes crunching loudly. Muffled banging and shouting came from the front door. Her fellow officers were trying to get in. Kara could only imagine what they’d think when they found two giant men throwing Tutors’ bodyguards around like rag dolls.

  But Kara couldn’t let that distract her. Her responsibility was to get this girl to safety. The two females dashed down the side yard for the street while Kara shouted into her wire, “We need more backup. I don’t know how many men he has in here. And you guys in the van, get over here and grab this girl!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Immediately over the fence ahead, she heard screeching tires as the van sped to the house. Kara’s adrenaline was on fire. The gate was locked. She shot it open, and came out slowly with her gun aimed and ready for anything. The van waited ahead, backed up to the curb. It opened and they looked around, then waved to her that it was safe to come over. Kara looked to the front door as they made their way across the grass. It was wide open, that lock shot to pieces, too. She rushed the girl to safety, told her team, “I’m going in to help,” and slammed the door shut to the van.

  She approached the front door, weapon up, finger on the trigger.

  There were bodies everywhere, most of them dead. She heard a man screaming from upstairs and knew it was Bill Tutors. She ascended the stairs, keeping watch behind and ahead of her at all times. When she got to the second level, she found both detectives on the ground. Her breath caught in her throat as she leaned down and checked their pulses, first Lewis, then Connors. With her fingers pressed against warm skin, she closed her eyes for a brief moment of relief.

  “Dear God, WHAT ARE YOU?!!!!” Bill Tutors screamed.

  Kara’s head shot up and she headed for the bedroom. It was at the far end of the landing. As she neared the open door, her lips parted. The millionaire was tied to a chair with his own belts, knotted together so well that Houdini would have loved the challenge. The room smelled of human feces and urine. Bill Tutors had lost control of his bladder and bowels. He stared up at the men who stood before him, their backs to Kara. On her entrance, Xavier turned first. “He’ll give you what you want to know now.” He leaned in close to the millionaires’ ear. “Tell the lady everything.”

  “She was mine! She was mine!” the man whined.

  Curragh punched him. Hard but not so hard the man lost consciousness. “Tell her!”

  “She was a gift from Viktor! He’s been using my companies to launder money!”

  Kara talked to her wire. “You hear that?”

  Curragh followed his friend out, and as he passed, he closed his eyes. She stared from him to the tied up Tutors, not knowing what to think. The man was still blabbering, tears staining his bumpy cheeks. “Monsters! They’re monsters! Fangs! Their eyes glowed!” Then he crumbled completely. “Viktor…Oh no. I’m dead. I’m a dead man.”

  “Shut up!” Curragh ran in and punched the guy in the head so hard he lost consciousness.

  Kara reached over the top of her dress, screamed like she was being attacked, and ripped the wire apart. She didn’t need any witnesses for this. These men had just gotten a confession out of a man so intelligent he’d probably never have confessed otherwise. He would’ve found a way out, especially with all the money he had at his disposal. She even felt a little jealous.

  “Wait!” she cried out, grabbing his arm. Xavier appeared in the doorway, drawing her focus. From one to the other, her eyes darted as she formulated a plan. “Punch me!”

  “What?” Xavier’s dark eyebrows were drawn tightly together. Curragh just stared at her. He did that a lot.

  “It’s the only way I can cover for you and explain why I’m not taking you in.”

  His friend came over, but Curragh stopped him. “Don’t touch her!” With haunted eyes he stepped closer and lifted her face up by the chin. “I’ll do it.” It happened so fast she didn’t see it coming. But she sure as hell felt it. He looked grim as she held onto her bloodied nose. “You’re going to have to lie down to make this believable.” There was a kindness in his tone that was new. She nodded and slipped down to the floor as sirens sounded in the distance. He told her, “Close your eyes.”

  She hesitated, then did as he asked. Lying there in the horrible smell, she listened to them leave. The millionaire’s insane ramblings echoed in her mind. They’re monsters. Fangs! Their eyes glowed! She remembered Curragh passing her and closing his eyes as he did. Was he hiding a glow? It was impossible, but why couldn’t she let it go? Then she remembered all the easy cases in New York, where bad people confessed to crimes and said the exact same thing. Monsters. Glowing eyes.

  She shook it off and waited for the police to come. She didn’t believe in fairy tales. Life had taught her there were no happy endings, and no monsters either, save for men like Kruglov and Tutors.

  Minutes later, two detectives from the task force, Rodriguez and Slater, were leaning down to wake her and see if she was okay. Others filed into the room, some in uniform. They’d been in the area when they got the call. She pretended to come to, faking confusion.

  “What happened?” Rodriguez asked.

  “
I…uh…” Kara grabbed her cheek, then her nose, and stood up. Her adrenaline was through the roof, lying to him. She didn’t lie to her own. But on the outside she appeared drowsy, regaining her composure as quick as she could to tell them, “Uh, two of his bodyguards. They went rogue. I guess they didn’t like what he’d done. Maybe one of them has a sister. Who knows. But after they got a confession, they made sure I couldn’t arrest them. Ouch. How bad is it?”

  Slater made a face and swatted her shoulder, an unusual show of camaraderie. “Spreading by the second.”

  “Great,” she muttered. “Oh, well. It’s not like I have much of a dating life with this job.”

  The two detectives chuckled. Rodriguez said, “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “Okay, everyone,” Monaghan called out. “Secure the crime scene. That means this entire mansion. We need a coroner for the dead bodies. You know the drill. Don’t touch them! Only the coroner has the jurisdiction. This case is too important to have some technicality get this man off. And photos of everything. before the EMTs get here and muck this whole thing up. I mean everything.” She looked over to where a couple officers were beside Bill. “Cut those belts. But don’t untie them. That’s all evidence.”

  Rodriguez called out, “Don’t search anything until we get that warrant! Hold off.” Nods all around.

  Another officer of lower rank walked up and handed her a phone. “It’s the Captain.”

  “Thanks.” She nodded to the three men and stepped away to talk in private while camera flashes lit the room with the speed of strobe lights in a nightclub.

  “Monaghan. What happened.”

  “Sorry Captain. Tutors wasn’t the saint we hoped he’d be.”

  “I heard. Well, the bad news is good news. We just got our first big break. Nice work. I’ve already put a call in to Superior Court Judge Wasserstein. He gave me a telephone warrant. You’re good to go. I want everything searched. It’s going to be a long day.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s heading back to the precinct now. We’ll reunite her with her sister, then have the interpreter find out what he can.”

  “You want to know if she learned anything while she was here” Kara watched as officers from the crime lab shot pictures of the knots Curragh and Xavier had made. When they were done, they carefully cut the belts off the unconscious millionaire and lowered him to the floor.

  Slater shouted, “Did you take photos of the blood spattering around him, the footprints?!” They nodded. “Carry on then.”

  Kara focused back on her phone call. “Find out if anyone paid Tutors a visit.”

  “You think Kruglov has been there?”

  “I doubt it. But who knows.”

  “Good thinking. He’s unpredictable. He may have.” Irritation grated through Mazzagatti’s voice. “Who knows how close they were.”

  She watched Bill Tutors’ open swollen eyes, and thought of her unlikely allies. “I’m going to find him. I don’t know how yet, but I will.”

  Then she realized she didn’t know how to find Curragh. Not his last name. Address. Where he worked, hung out. He didn’t know her last name either, but he knew what she did and that her precinct was in this district.

  But will he find me?

  Turning around, she called out, “Okay, gentlemen. Go through all the rooms. Pay special attention to his office. Check the desk for hidden compartments. Check cupboards for the same. Hutches, dressers. Anything that could hold a secret hidey-hole. The floors. Behind paintings for safes. The Captain wants a complete sweep.” Nods all around as the search began.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You think she saw?” They climbed in their car. “She looked at you like she saw.”

  Curragh grumbled, “Saw what?” with a slam of the door.

  Xavier cut a sharp glance and shoved the key in the ignition. “Your eyes! They were—”

  “—I know what my eyes were doing. No. I got a hold of myself before I turned around. Just worry about the road.”

  “What was going on back there? You barely controlled—”

  “—I’ve got a handle on it!” Curragh couldn’t see the mansions flying by the window. What he’d just told Xavier was a lie. He didn’t have a handle on his wolf. More like the other way around. It was a first. Ever since he was a pup, he’d had control of his emotions. When the wolf was given leave to take over, it still had a leash on it. And when he was angry, in fights, or attacking for any reason, even during those times, he called the shots.

  Just now, in there, it hadn’t been a struggle. It was pure war. When they’d left her on the floor, he’d wanted nothing more than to grab her up and take her with him and it took everything he had not to do just that. “We didn’t get Tutors. We were going to bring him with us.”

  “And how were we supposed to do that with that detective watching us?”

  “You could have tried,” grumbled Curragh.

  “Are you really that unaware of yourself?” Xavier demanded. Dropping it, he said, “Well, hopefully the cops will be able to get something out of him. We’ll be listening. And when you want to ‘fess up about that female cop, I’m all ears. You must think I’m pretty fucking stupid.”

  Curragh stared out the window. “I need a steak.”

  “I bet you do.”

  When they got back to the loft, they got another rude surprise. Draik was in a heap on the doormat, bloody and unconscious. His packmates rushed forward and tried to wake him. It was no use. He was cold, too, and wolves run hot.

  “He’s on the edge,” Curragh whispered, stunned.

  Xavier leapt up and unlocked the door. “Carry him inside.”

  Very gently Curragh picked up Draik’s limp body. He’d been beaten badly. Cut, too. He was missing patches of dirty-blonde hair like someone had shaved him for the fun of it. From the cuts, they’d used an old razor. Rushing him to the coffee table, Curragh demanded a pillow and laid him down.

  Xavier said, “I’m going to call Howard,” handing it to him.

  “Why? Oh. He can sew him up.”

  “He’s the only doctor we know, and who knows what we are.”

  “Right.” Curragh stared down at the victim, inspecting from a distance the cuts in his friend’s dark jeans and shirt. His belt was gone. He had no shoes. There were burns under his feet. “I’m going to kill whoever did this.”

  Xavier said into the phone, “Howard?” raking strained fingers through his hair. “You need to come over here. Bring anything you have to save someone’s life. Now. I’ll text you the address.”

  “On my way!” the young wolf exclaimed and hung up.

  “He’s too excited,” Curragh grumbled.

  Xavier sent the text, and tossed the phone on the couch. He approached Draik, kneeling down. “What can we do?”

  “Wait.” Twice today he’d felt helpless. First against Kara’s pull on him, now this.

  “Hey.” Xavier pointed to a white corner sticking out from the pocket of Draik’s jeans. “What’s this?” He pulled it out and unfolded blood soaked paper, standing up as Curragh leaned in. In a handwritten black scrawl read: Stop trying to find me.

  A primal growl ripped from Curragh’s lungs and he shifted, clothes shredding from his body, his fangs biting for the paper. Xavier jumped back and kept it out of reach as best he could. “STOP! This might lead us to him!” His eyes glowed dark amber.

  The black wolf snarled low, pacing back and forth, palest of pale green eyes on the prize. What Xavier said made sense, but he needed somewhere to put all this pain. He leapt up, fangs lashing out. Xavier jumped back in time, throwing the paper like a ball to a dog to save himself. Curragh’s wolf devoured the thing and let out a long, forlorn howl. Shifting back, he knelt naked on the ground, panting, eyes still glowing.

  “Curragh,” whispered Draik. The familiar howl had roused him.

  Both packmates spun around and went to him. Their friend’s eyes were slits, his mouth dry and open.

 
“I’m here. I’m right here.”

  “I’m here, too, buddy,” Xavier said, kneeling down again. “You’re going to be okay.”

  Draik was breathing strangely, in soft short bursts separated by long pauses. He rasped, “Kill him.”

  “I’m going to,” Curragh promised his packmate. “I will fucking murder the man. You have my word.” He cocked a sideways look to Xavier, both of them feeling that he was nearing death. Curragh went to the other side of the table, and he and Xavier both took hold of their friend’s hands, clasping them tightly. The Nordic wolf began panting and then he lost consciousness again. They listened for his heart, theirs suspended. Xavier exhaled loudly. There was a faint heartbeat.

  “It’s probably the pain. He passed out from the agony.” They waited a good twelve minutes before a knock came on the door. “I’ll get it.” He threw a warning look over his shoulder that said, behave yourself.

  Curragh hadn’t let go, and he stayed there like that with Draik while Howard rushed in with a leather satchel of supplies. So used to seeing gruesome corpses, Howard Peters did not even pause at the sight awaiting him. Simultaneously falling to his knees as he started unpacking the bag, he asked, “Who did this?”

  Xavier paced as he whispered in anger, “A dead man.”

  “You’re gonna be okay, buddy,” Curragh told Draik’s sleeping form, gripping his friend’s cold hand. “You’re gonna be okay.” He looked at all the bottles and tools being strewn on the floor around Howard, all within reaching distance. “You can save him…right?”

  Howard’s lips were tight. His shaggy light brown hair hung over his glasses as he looked up. “I don’t know. But I’m going to do my best.”

  He instructed them to help him disrobe Draik. As they peeled off his clothes, they discovered slashes from where he’d been whipped, slices where he’d been cut, and dark, charcoal like patches where they’d burned him. It wasn’t just his feet. They’d burned him in random places that would hurt when he bent them, like his elbows and knees. On one wrist, too.