Kneeling by Draik’s sleeping body, he answered in a low rumble, “Ran into some of Kruglov’s men.” He met his packmates dark eyes. “When is Howard getting here? I want Draik looked at. His lips are pale again.”
“He said around six. What happened?”
With his succinct style he left out none of the important details. His disgust showed in his tone and on his face. Xavier sat back on the floor, listening. When Curragh finished, Xavier shot up and walked away, calling with a violent motion of his arm for Curragh to follow.
“Why didn’t you just call 911 yourself?” Xavier snarled under his breath when they were far enough away not to rouse Draik easily.
Tensing up, Curragh demanded in matching volume, “What’s the problem?”
“The problem? There are going to be cops all over that building now. Which means we can’t go and search it!”
Curragh shoved his friend in the chest. “You think I’m stupid?”
“Sometimes!” Xavier spat.
“I was there. It wasn’t a normal hideout. It was abandoned. Nothing was there except dust, rats, and the female.”
Xavier shook his head. “You forget I was a cop. All the time you forget.” He raked both hands through thick hair, his expression hard. “There are other rooms in the building. There are fingerprints. I could have dusted for fucking fingerprints and found a way to…something!”
Curragh stared at him, speechless. “You’ve never dusted for that shit before. How was I supposed to know you could do that when—”
“—I’ve never done it before,” Xavier admitted on a growl. “But you know me! When I need to figure something out, I figure the shit out! I’ve seen the crime lab techs at enough crime scenes. I would have found a way.” He stared at the dark wood floor.
Curragh exhaled. “Think about it. If I’d called 911, they would have called the cops. We’d be in the same place we are now. At least this way, we might—” He was going to say, have an ally on the force, but then he remembered that Kara didn’t want to help them.
Xavier’s black eyelashes rose to the window. He stared out at the dawn light drifting through the break in the curtains. “Well, at least my wanting pancakes may have saved a woman’s life.” He swatted Curragh’s shoulder and headed for his mattress. “I need to shut my eyes. Wake me when Howard gets here.”
“I’ll stay watch,” Curragh mumbled, trudging over to plant himself on the hardwood floor by Draik’s mattress. His buddy hadn’t moved, lips still parted on raspy breaths. The blond and light brown beard made his skin appear incredibly sallow, the yellows matching. Patches of visible, cut up scalp made him even more sad and broken. The finger on his left hand, the one nearest Curragh, twitched. Picking up the hand, the green-eyed wolf turned it over and inspected the burn marks covered in glossy healing salves. He stayed like that for a half hour with his chest twisted in vengeful anger. After a long while, he leaned over and blew on the wrist.
“Cur?”
Curragh’s spine shot up. Draik was staring at him through tiny, tired slits. “I’m here, buddy.”
“Alexander,” he whispered, hoarsely. “They called him by name.”
So Alexander was alive! “Do you know where they took you? Do you remember any details? We’ll find it and kill those motherfuckers for you.”
A haunted look overcame Draik, tinged with fear.
Curragh hated to see it. “Where?” he demanded.
Draik stared at him, then rasped, “Here. It was here.”
“That’s impossible!” Ice poured into Curragh’s blood. “We found you on the doormat! There was no sign of anything!” He scanned the loft. It looked exactly as it always had. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
Weak fingers pressed his. “They cleaned it. This was done to me…in the middle of our home.” Pale eyelashes closed and he moaned, “Everything hurts.”
“Hang on.” Curragh leapt up for the whiskey bottle and found it nearly empty. “Shit!” Rushing it back, he lifted Draik’s head so he could drink the rest down. Wiping stray drops from the pale beard, Curragh stared at his friend in horror, imagining the Russians coming in and taking Draik hostage. There must have been many of them. And if Alexander was as ruthless and swift as the rumors said he was, it made sense that Draik didn’t stand a chance. Not on his own.
Curragh set the empty bottle down and stared at his friend’s docile face. He’d passed out again, the pain too much for him. With fury tangling around the puzzle in his mind, Curragh touched his shoulder and snarled, “That’s right. You sleep. Let us take care of this now.”
A knock sounded on the door and the wolf froze. He listened for heartbeats and found one.
From outside Howard hissed, “It’s me!”
“Get up.” He passed Xavier’s mattress and kicked it. “We’ve gotta get outta here.”
“Huh?” Xavier mumbled, rubbing red eyes and sitting up in the clothes he wore yesterday.
Howard Peters was ready for his workday, wearing a lab coat over his slacks and polo shirt. His glasses had spots on them and his shaggy hair hung over like he’d never combed it once in his life. “How is he?”
Curragh grabbed the young wolf’s arm and dragged him inside, slamming the door. “Follow me.”
“Is he worse?”
“What do you mean we have to get outta here?” Xavier was sitting in his bed looking like less than an hour hadn’t been nearly enough sleep. “What happened?”
Curragh stopped in front of him. His eyes glowed. He knew it. His wolf wanted to protect them all. “Draik woke up. No, don’t look over. He’s out again. Listen to what he just told me. He was tortured here.” They stared at him like they couldn’t understand, so Curragh nearly shouted, “HERE! They were in our home!”
Xavier’s face twisted in extreme disbelief. “They made it seem like it took place someplace else?”
“Yeah. They cleaned up. That’s what they do. The sick fucks even went so far as to deposit him outside.”
Howard was shocked. “How is that possible?” He searched the room for verification.
Xavier jumped up and faced his packmate. He called over to Howard what Curragh was already thinking. “If we didn’t see it before, we won’t now. They did too good a job.”
“We need to get out of here.” Curragh said. “You think they’re watching us?”
Xavier strode angrily to the curtains and closed them. “I would, if I were them.” His eyes glowed amber. Howard crawled around the hardwood floor looking for evidence of torture—human hair, wolf blood, anything.
“Hey!” Curragh called over. “If Draik said it happened here, then it did. Get up and go check on him!”
Howard shot upright and went to Draik, snatching his leather satchel up with a long, skinny arm on the way. “Sorry.”
Curragh turned back to Xavier. “We need to relocate, and we need to do it today.”
Both wolves were thinking about how without being seen. Or followed.
Xavier said, with finality, “Call your cop,” like it was the only solution.
Curragh frowned. “Why?”
“The best place to hide is where Viktor’s men have been and since abandoned. They won’t go back. We need someplace the cops searched and by now have forgotten, too. Someplace from a long time ago.”
It could work. Then he remembered what she’d told him in the bathroom at Dusek’s. “She’s new here. She won’t know any of the old places.”
Losing his temper, Xavier shoved Curragh in the chest. “Well, maybe she can find out!”
Glowing ice green eyes flashed as Curragh growled, “Kara doesn’t want to help us. And I don’t have her fucking number. We don’t have time to wait for her to get back home, whenever the fuck that will be. So think of something else!”
The two wolves were on the verge of shifting, needing to release the tension boiling in their blood. Curragh wanted nothing more than to tear something apart, even if it was…
“Kara as in Detective Kara
Monaghan?” Howard asked from where he kneeled by Draik.
Curragh and Xavier’s heads swiveled over. The scrawny doctor blinked at them. “I can get her phone number.” In suspended silence, he shrugged. “We talk to cops all the time. Did you know the coroner is the only person allowed to arrest the Sheriff?”
Curragh and Xavier looked at each other. “I didn’t know that.” “I knew that.”
Backing away, Curragh grumbled, “Of course you did.” He walked to the couch, flopping down on it and kicking his boots up. “Shit. I’m gonna miss this table. Well…call her. But she doesn’t want to help. She told me.”
“How is he?” Xavier asked Howard.
“Well, you know we heal faster than humans, but it’s been less than twelve hours so he’s pretty much still in hell. Sorry.” The young wolf got up and pushed some of his bushy brown hair back as he looked around. “I still can’t believe what a great job they—”
“Shut UP!” Curragh snarled. Howard’s jaw clamped shut. “That’s more like it.”
Xavier exhaled. “Okay. Let’s do what needs to be done.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hospital rooms have a loneliness to them Kara hated. Since the woman had been a victim of mob crime, a policeman was stationed outside the room to keep watch, and no roommates. The psychiatrist was ahead of the three detectives. As before, the victim stared at nothing, only now she was in a hospital gown and tucked under a thin white blanket, arms lifeless outside of it and by her sides. Kara felt the two men exchange a look behind her, and she turned her head to tell them, “Maybe you guys should wait outside. Or at least by the door.”
They nodded and stepped back. She didn’t want them there, but she knew because of how she’d handled this the Captain had tightened the leash. I’ll have to earn his trust back. This is why Curragh is bad for me. But even as she thought his name, she knew she hoped to see him again soon.
Using her gentle voice to introduce herself, the psychiatrist said, “Hi. I’m Leanne Matthews. I specialize in helping women who’ve been through what you have.” The woman’s eyes didn’t flicker in the slightest, so the doctor tried again. “You’re not alone. We’re here to help you and there’s a police officer outside your room to keep you safe. No one is going to hurt you again. I know it was probably scary having the doctors examine you, but they were just making sure you’re going to be okay, too.” Still no response. “Can you tell us your name?”
Kara was watching from a few steps back and she moved to stand in front of where the woman’s eyes were locked but unfocused. She leaned down to try to engage them. “I know who did this to you. I know it was Viktor Kruglov’s men.”
Dr. Matthews glanced over, alarmed at the tactic, but Kara stayed on the victim, because when she’d said that name, the woman’s dark eyes shifted. Kara softened her voice. “I’m going to put that man behind bars for you.”
The woman’s eyes went sharp with fear. She looked directly at Kara. Her voice was damaged, probably from screaming, most certainly from stress. What was left of it was an awful rasp. “You can’t. Nussink vill brink heem down.”
Kara’s heart picked up speed at the accent. Her own people had done this to her? Just then her phone vibrated in her pocket, but it would have to wait. “I promise you, I will bring him to his knees for you and for everyone else who he’s hurt. She walked closer and reached out. “Can I touch your hand?” The woman blinked a slow yes. Kara tenderly lifted and clasped it in both of hers. “Bring me that chair,” she told Dr. Matthews. The psychiatrist brought it over and Kara sat down, still holding onto the terrorized woman. “What I don’t understand is why someone would do this to you? You’re Russian, yes?” The woman gave the smallest of nods. “Why would they hurt you?”
She closed her eyes against the memories. “Dey took frrrom me vat I vould not geev.” Small tears slid down her cheeks. “Dey do not liyke the vorrd no.”
She was normally able to keep a detached emotional distance, except in times like these. A knot had formed in her throat and Kara tried to clear it away, hoping the male detectives didn’t see her weakness. Her voice sounded stronger than she felt. “I have been through a version of this hell you’ve just endured. It’s terrible, and it will haunt you.”
“Detective Monaghan!” Dr. Matthews cried out. A rustling by the door grabbed Kara’s attention and she looked up to see Slater stepping out with an incoming call, his cell phone floating up to his ear as he motioned to Rodriguez he’d be right back.
Kara met the Russian woman’s eyes again and continued, “But this doctor next to me? See how protective she is of you already?” With tired eyes, the woman glanced over to the psychiatrist for the first time, then slowly back to Kara. “She can help you get through this. She can lesson the nightmares and help you put this horrible night where it belongs. In the past.” Tears hovered in the woman’s eyes. “This isn’t your fault. These are bad people, and if anyone should feel shame—it’s them. Understand? Now, what’s your name?”
“Katarina,” the woman choked.
“Katarina, I’m Kara. We’ve both got ‘K’ names,” she smiled. “I’m going to make sure you get a new home and even a new identity if you want it. Does that sound good?” The woman nodded. “Can you tell me the names of the men who did this? No, don’t be scared. I just want to bring you some justice. Okay?” But the woman was shaking her head.
“No. No!” Though the voice was frail, her conviction was strong.
Kara, not the gentlest person, was about to try harder to convince her when Slater called over with a respectfully quiet volume, “Monaghan. It’s the Captain.”
Kara nodded to him, and told Katarina in a voice much softer than she was about to use, “Please think about it. We’re going to let you rest, but I know Dr. Matthews here would like to talk with you. Not about the men. Don’t be scared. She’s here to help.” She patted and laid the woman’s hand down, got up and went to take the phone.
Stepping outside, she walked out of hearing range as she answered, “Yes, Captain?”
“I got a call from the coroner. They found something on that body.”
“The one who shot himself?”
“That’s the one. He said you acted like he didn’t know his job, so he dug further.”
Kara thought about it and huffed, “That’s fucking hilarious. What’d he find out?”
The Captain sounded mildly amused. “He asked if he could call and tell you himself. Something about women emasculating him all the time. I thought you could use a laugh.”
Kara stopped in the cold, white hallway. All the rooms between her victim’s and where she now stood, were occupied. She hated hospitals. “Captain, I like your sense of humor,” she dryly told him.
“Don’t get used to it.” There was some rustling of papers. “I didn’t give him your number. Here’s his. Have a pen?”
She felt around her blazer pocket. “I don’t. Text my cell. This is—”
“I know whose phone I dialed!” He hung up.
She pulled out her phone, waving she’d be right back to Rodriguez and Slater as they glanced over. It vibrated with the number. Dialing it, she waited for Dr. Peters to answer, and tucked Slater’s phone in her pocket. The young coroner picked up before the first ring finished.
“Hello?”
“Dr. Peters?”
“Detective Monaghan?”
“The very one. What’d you find?” She kicked at a scuffmark on the ground.
“Nothing. I lied. A friend of yours needs your help.”
She cocked her head a little. She didn’t really have any friends. “Who?”
“Curragh.”
Her heart jumped into her eyeballs and she coughed. “Who? I don’t know any…”
“He’s my friend, too. And he needs you. Meet me at the morgue.” He hung up.
Squeezing her phone in a death grip, she flipped around, walking fast. After a quick exchanged nod with the uniformed deputy guarding the room, Kara told her
fellow detectives in a quiet voice, “I have to take a trip to the morgue. Fun times. Can you get a female detective here to see if you can get those names? Who do we have that might work?”
Rodriguez glanced to the ceiling and Slater bit his cheek. Then they looked at each other, the same name simultaneously coming to mind.
“Fisher.”
“She might be able to do it.”
Kara knew Deb Fisher. She was bright. And she was a mom with a lot more nurturing vibe than Kara would ever have.
“Get her down here.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
An hour and a half later, Curragh and Xavier struggled with patience. They took turns pacing, and each of them must have checked on Draik’s condition about a hundred times. They hadn’t heard from Howard. They didn’t even know if Kara had agreed to help or had turned them down cold.
“What if something happened to him?” Curragh muttered from the couch. He was so sick of staring at these walls.
“I was thinking the same thing. We’ll give him a little more time—”
“—Then what? Carry Draik over our shoulders? Now that won’t attract attention.” He leaned back and closed his eyes in irritation, throwing his hands behind his head, resting on the back cushion. “We need to go to a liquor store and get something for him when he wakes up. We’re all out.”
Xavier’s boots clunked around some more.
An approaching siren drew their attention to the closed curtains. Curragh sat up as the volume increased. From the sound of it, the vehicle was now parked downstairs. They looked at each other, then shot over to check it out. “If she ratted us out…” Curragh swore under his breath. Xavier pulled back the dark fabric an inch.
“It’s an ambulance.”
“I see that.”
The back door opened and Howard jumped out. He ran inside with a gurney. Both wolves strode quickly to open the door.
“I’m so sorry,” Howard said, then he added pretty loudly like he wanted the whole building to hear, “Help me with the body.”
Werewolves of Chicago: Curragh (Werewolves of... Book 6) Page 9