Cole’s mouth on her ear, lips against her skin. “Deep inside you. Deeper inside than any man’s ever been.”
She made a strangled half-sob. God. When she’d wanted it over before, she hadn’t meant it. Not really. She didn’t want to die.
His claws barely brushed her neck. “One more,” said Cole. “I’ll tear out your throat, and it will be done. I can do it.”
He didn’t.
She was still bleeding. The deep wound on her stomach screamed at her, the pain coming in pulsing waves, each seeming to bring more sticky, red blood.
“I can do it,” Cole said again.
“Don’t,” she said. She didn’t want to die. She knew it now. She wasn’t above begging for her life. “Don’t kill me, Cole. Please, don’t.”
He moved, looked into her eyes, his expression anguished. “Fuck.”
“Please Cole,” she said.
“Fuck,” he said again. Then he picked up the blanket from the floor and pressed it against the wound on her stomach.
* * *
Dana banged on Avery’s hotel room door. “Brooks! It’s after nine.”
“Go away Gray,” called a voice from within.
She pounded on the door again. “Wake up. It’s morning.”
She heard the sound of shuffling from inside, and then Avery pulled the door open a crack, squinting at the brightness. Inside his room, it was a dark cave. He’d obviously just gotten out of bed. He wasn’t wearing anything except boxers and his hair was sticking up in the back. “You’re a bitch from hell,” he muttered.
“We agreed to be up by nine,” she said.
He shook his head. “You mean you told me to get up by nine and didn’t listen when I said it was too early.”
She sighed.
“What’s the rush?” he asked. “We aren’t going to talk to the twins until noon.”
“I thought you wanted to get breakfast,” she said. “You wouldn’t shut up about that diner we passed.”
He rubbed his eyes. “Right. Well, give me a half hour.”
“A half hour? Brooks, I’m starving.”
“Go without me then.” He shut the door.
She knocked again. “Does that mean you’re getting in the shower?”
“Go away!”
She glared at the door.
Another door opened, further down. “Excuse me, you think you can keep it down?”
She turned to apologize but recognized the man who was speaking. “Hollis?”
Hollis Moore laughed. “Hey, Dana. I’d recognize your shrill morning yell anywhere. What the hell are you doing here?”
She walked over to him. “My job. Are you stalking me or something? Chomping at the bit for that interview?”
He was still grinning. She’d forgotten how infectious his dimples were, or how charming his curly mop of hair was. “I’m covering the Beverly Martin incident. And if you’re still here, that means there’s more to it than the SF’s letting on.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, God, don’t start.”
“I do want to interview you, though,” he said. “I just got my clearance to see Cole Randall. Thank you very much.”
“It’s for my boss,” she said. “I’m not actually excited to be sharing information about the worst thing that ever happened to me with the entire world.”
“Not even if you’re going to be a hero?”
“You didn’t promise that.”
“You’re right, I didn’t.” He closed his hotel room door. “So, from what I hear you want to go to breakfast. Coincidentally, I was heading out to that diner I think you were talking about. We should share a table, don’t you think?”
She wasn’t sure. She’d just woken up, and Hollis was sometimes a lot to take. He was very good at lulling her into a sense of complacency—making her feel very comfortable. That was one of the reasons he was a good reporter. But because of that, she always had to be on her guard around him. Anything that slipped ended up in print. Well, actually not print, because Hollis worked for an online newspaper, but it was the same thing in the end. “I don’t know. It’s a little early to be grilled by a journalist.”
He held up his hands. “No questions. No grilling. Unless they have a grill at the diner.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Oh, come on, Dana. We’ll just eat. Get caught up. I missed you.”
She sighed. “All right. Fine. But no questions.”
He spread his hands. “Would I lie to you?”
Yes. He definitely would.
* * *
Hollis winked at the hostess at the diner. “What about that booth over there? The one in the corner?”
“You want to sit there? We usually keep it for large parties. It seats six.” The girl looked barely twenty. She cast a nervous glance at the manager, who was only a few feet away, talking with one of the servers.
Hollis flashed her one of his dazzling grins. “If he gives you any trouble, tell him I was an ass about it. What do you say? Can we sit there?”
The hostess shrugged, blushing a little under his gaze, and tucked two menus under her arm. “This way.”
Dana followed them to the corner booth, shaking her head. That was Hollis for you. He always got what he wanted, and he somehow managed to make you feel like you were in on a scheme with him. He was infectious but irritating.
Once they were seated, he began paging through the menu. “So, I’m guessing that my chances are slim to none that you’ll talk about Cole Randall in this diner.”
“You’re guessing right.” She opened the menu herself. This was one of those Greek diners, the kind with a ten-page menu. Too many options. She found the breakfast section, which loudly proclaimed, “We serve breakfast all day!” She flipped through it. Only two pages. That wasn’t that bad.
“Yeah, I figured. But I’m dying of curiosity here. What about this moratorium on dating? Think you can explain to me why you can’t be with anyone at all? Like a bullet point version?”
“I’m trying to look at the menu.” She glared at it.
“You should have that,” he said, pointing to a mushroom and swiss omelet, number thirty-four on the menu. “And then I’ll get pancakes, and we can split them both, so we each get half.”
See? He was doing it again. Even ordering food was a tag-team event for Hollis. Anything to make her feel like they were working together. “I want meat.”
He grinned at her. “Right. To feed your wolf, yeah?” Hollis was a vegetarian, but he found her meat-eating tendencies intriguing, since he attributed them to the fact she was a werewolf.
She sighed. “Can you shut up for three seconds?”
“Sorry,” he said. “Did being tortured by a madman put you in a perpetually bad mood?”
“Hollis!”
He chuckled to himself, clearly enjoying the fact he’d gotten her riled up. “Fine. I’ll be quiet.”
For about thirty blissful seconds, she was able to peruse the menu without interruption. She narrowed it down to corned beef hash or steak and eggs.
“I’m going to have French toast,” he said.
She glared at him. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“What? That was way longer than three seconds.” He reached across the table and brushed her hand with his. “I can’t help it. I’m excited to see you.”
She pulled her hand away. “This isn’t a date, you know.”
“Right,” he said. “Because you can’t be with anyone at all.” He closed his menu. “Is that actually just your way of saying, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’? Like, were you planning on breaking up with me anyway? You’ve barely spoken to me in six months, but last I checked, you never officially ended things either.”
“Well, consider them officially ended, then.”
He toyed with his silverware. “You’re, um, really not good with letting people down easy are you?”
And because she’d dated him, shared his bed, and eaten breakfast with him before lots of times, she
could tell there was actual hurt in his voice. “Sorry.”
The waitress came over to their table and took their order. Hollis didn’t even bother to flirt with her. Dana really had upset him.
Once the waitress was gone, Dana said, “Look, it’s not like we were really a serious couple, anyway. I mean, there were all kinds of issues.”
“There was one issue,” he said. “And it was your issue, not mine. I wasn’t worried about catching the lupine virus. It was only you. As for being serious...” He shrugged. “Seriousness is not my strong suit.”
Dana wished she still had the menu to fiddle with, but the waitress had taken them. “I guess I should have called you or something. Explained things.”
“I wanted to be there for you,” said Hollis. “I don’t know why you shut me out.”
“You wanted to write about me,” she said. “You wanted an inside scoop.”
“Well, maybe,” he said. “But I wanted to be there for you more.”
She wanted to strangle him.
He grinned at her, dimples popping out again. “Hey, it’s the past. You’re single, right? I’d say I still have a chance.”
She focused on the table. “No.”
“Which brings me back to my first question. Why can’t you be with anyone?”
She cocked her head. “You asking that question as my ex-boyfriend or as the reporter who’s writing about my being captured by Cole Randall?”
“I can’t be both?” He laughed. “You’re asking if it’s on the record, right? And the answer is no. We’re not having an interview. We’re having breakfast. I won’t print what you say.”
She leaned back in the booth. “I’m fucked in the head. He really screwed me up.”
The smile faded from his face. “Like how?”
She shook her head. How was she going to give Hollis this interview? She knew he claimed he wasn’t interviewing her now, and maybe her exact words would never get printed, but Hollis never forgot anything he heard. And there were some things she simply couldn’t make public. How did she make sure he got the message to back off without giving too much away? “It’s PTSD, Hollis. Google it.”
“Post traumatic stress disorder does not keep people from being in relationships,” said Hollis.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said.
“Fine,” he said. “Then how about going on the record and giving me a quote on Beverly Martin. Why are you here?”
Jesus Christ, he was giving her a headache. “I can’t talk about that.”
“Why not? Maybe I could help. I got some theories. Show me yours, I’ll show you mine.” His boyish grin was back on his face.
Despite herself, she smiled back. It was really hard to be mad at Hollis. He was too adorable, like some giant puppy that kept making messes on the carpet but you could never quite get angry with. “I’m not telling you anything.”
“You think she did it on purpose?” he asked.
She raised her eyebrows. “Do you?”
He shrugged. “It would make sense. She knows how to stop it, so she must have done it on purpose. On the other hand, it wouldn’t make any sense at all. She knows all about the SF. She knows what will happen to her if she does it. And she’s got quite a bit to lose. A family. A house. Seems weird to me.”
She made a noncommittal noise.
“Come on,” he said. “You’re not going to give me anything?”
“Nope.”
“I heard your partner say you were going to interview her twins. Her husband won’t even let me in the front door. How ‘bout you let me tag along?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay,” he said. “Then let me interview you about Cole Randall tonight. You still going to be in town?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “We might go back to Pennsylvania today. I guess it depends on what we find out.”
“Call me?”
“Okay.”
“I knew I’d eventually get you to agree to something if I asked enough questions.” Dimples again.
Dana sighed.
* * *
“Are you guys werewolves?” asked Maggie, one of Beverly Martin’s twins.
“Our dad said that everyone in the Sullivan Foundation is one,” said Madeleine. She looked exactly like her sister. Dana was only keeping them straight because they hadn’t moved from the couch where she’d been introduced to them. Both girls sat up straight, enthusiasm all over their faces.
“Yes,” said Avery. “That is true. Everyone who works for the SF is a werewolf, so we are.”
“Cool!” said Maggie. “Our mom is a werewolf. She says she hopes that we will be too.”
“She does?” said Dana. That was a little odd. She didn’t really know anyone who actually liked being a werewolf. Well, except Cole, that is.
Maggie nodded. “Yup.”
“I don’t know, though,” said Madeleine. “I think it could be a little bit scary.”
“No, it won’t,” said Maggie, turning to her twin, “because I’ll be with you, and we’ll be doing it together. That will make it cool.”
“Maybe,” said Madeleine.
“We’re actually here to talk to you about your mom, if that’s okay,” said Avery.
The girls shrugged.
“Is she a good mom?” asked Dana.
“I guess so,” said Madeleine.
“She used to be,” said Maggie. “Then she was gone all the time. Our dad says she was running from her responsibilities.”
“When did she start doing that?” asked Avery.
The girls looked at each other, and then shrugged again.
“I didn’t care,” said Madeleine, “because before, when she was around a lot, she just yelled at us and made us clean our rooms and stuff. When she was gone, we could make as many messes as we wanted.”
Maggie nodded. “That’s true. All dad would do was get mad at mom, because it’s her job to make us clean up.”
Dana struggled not to smile at that. It was interesting to hear the world of adults filtered through children’s perspective.
“If we become werewolves,” said Madeleine. “Will we have to go to the Sullivan Foundation?”
“Yes,” said Dana. “You’ll need to be trained so that you can control yourself, so you don’t have to shift.”
“Our mom didn’t want us to go there,” said Maggie.
“She didn’t?” said Avery. “Why not?”
“She just said it was a bad place, and that it would teach us bad stuff,” said Madeleine. “But our dad says that’s not true. He says you’re the good guys.” She shrugged. “I think he’s probably right. I don’t believe anything Mom said anymore. I saw on TV that she went crazy and killed people.”
Maggie glared at her sister. “That’s not nice. Mom probably had a good reason.”
“Did your mother ever tell you what she was going to do?” Dana asked. “Did she give you a reason for doing what she did?”
Both of the twins shook their heads.
“Dad says she wanted away from us,” said Madeleine. “He says she was trying to escape.”
“That’s not true!” Maggie’s voice had risen several decibels.
Dana wanted to calm them down. “It’s okay, girls. You don’t have to—”
“What’s going on in here?” A woman appeared in the doorway to the living room. She’d introduced herself as Yvonne earlier. She was Beverly’s best friend, and she was watching the girls while Karl went to work. He had thought that they might not quite be ready to go back to school.
Avery stood up. “I think we might actually be done in here, ma’am.” He looked at Dana for confirmation.
Dana wasn’t sure. But it didn’t seem like they were getting anything definite from either of the twins. They only knew what their parents had told them, the way kids often did. “Yeah, I don’t think we have any other questions for them.”
Yvonne came into the room. She looked at both of the girls. “Th
ey didn’t upset you too much?”
Maggie had her arms crossed over her chest, but Madeleine seemed fine. She jumped up off the couch, picking up a remote control. “Can we watch TV now?”
Yvonne sighed. “Okay.” She turned to Avery and Dana. “I’ll walk the two of you out.”
“Actually,” said Dana, “would you mind if we asked you a few questions?”
Yvonne froze. “All right, I guess so.” She gestured. “We can go in the kitchen if the girls are watching TV in here.”
Yvonne was apparently in the middle of cleaning up the kitchen. The dishwasher sat open, half-loaded. The sink had dirty dishes stacked inside. But the kitchen island was spotless, as if it had just been wiped down. She sat down on a stool on one side and motioned for them to sit opposite her. “I don’t understand. There isn’t any question that Beverly did this, is there? I thought you folks could smell it or something.”
“We can,” said Dana. “But this case is different than usual. We don’t often have wolves that return to killing after they’ve learned how to keep from shifting.”
“Return to killing?” said Yvonne. “But Beverly never killed before.”
“I think we knew that,” said Avery. “She was bitten but sequestered before her first full moon, right? Dana’s the same way.”
“I should have put it differently,” said Dana.
“Well, all right,” said Yvonne. “But that still doesn’t make any sense. She did it, didn’t she? What does it matter if she knew how to control herself?”
“Well, it implies that she did it on purpose,” said Avery. “At the Sullivan Foundation, we help werewolves. We don’t generally punish them. In the rare cases they need to be punished, we have to be absolutely sure that they deserve it.”
“It’s only that it doesn’t quite make sense,” said Dana. “Why would she do it? She didn’t seem to have a vendetta against anyone she killed, did she? They were random victims in a grocery store.”
Yvonne nodded. “It’s suspicious because she had no motive?”
“Not only that, she would have known that she’d be taken away from her family. She seems to have a lot to lose and not much to gain by doing it. We want to make sense of it, that’s all.”
Otherworldly Bad Boys: Three Complete Novels Page 9