“I’ll talk to the sheriff,” Conor offered.
She stared at Conor as though he had just been born yesterday. “I don’t think Rick is going to be especially concerned to get me out of here.”
Dean assured her, “He listens to Shane and he definitely listens to his daughter.”
“Just sit tight, okay?” Conor suggested. “We’ll do everything we can.”
After giving them an appeasing nod, she slumped onto the bench inside the jail cell and hung her head.
***
Sheriff Rick Abernathy hadn’t felt like a sheriff in days. He didn’t feel like himself. It seemed like with each passing day since Dante had turned him into a dark soldier, he had been losing more and more of himself. It was like being slowly crushed by an evil weight. His chest felt heavy, his mind blank, and only sometimes when he fought like hell, he briefly reconnected with his personality. The man he used to be was dying inside of him, but his consciousness wasn’t going with it. It was worse than death.
He had been avoiding the station since his release from the hospital in Jackson Hole. He’d only gone in to tend to a few matters here and there. For the most part, Eddie Friendly was taking things over, not that the cops necessarily noticed. It made Rick’s blood boil, but he knew that going in was risky. He didn’t want anyone to catch his cold sweats or snappish responses. He still didn’t trust himself not to shift into his wolf form without warning. To think that if he did, he’d be gunned down by the very officers who had looked up to him for years, was too much to bear, so he kept himself hidden away in his cabin.
He had locked the doors and drawn all of the curtains closed. The cold sweats came and went, but he hadn’t swelled into another delirious fever. It seemed, slowly but surely, his body was adjusting to the transformation. His highest hope was that he’d feel like himself again, be able to fully control his shifts, and establish a new rhythm of life. He didn’t have to do what Dante ordered.
Angel Mercer and Jack Quagmire came to mind.
Rick had been thinking about them more and more and had figured out their story. Dante had turned Angel just like he’d turned Rick. And she’d also escaped him. That was what that ceremony had been all about at Damned Repair. Yes, Angel and Jack tying the knot had conjured Dante, but though Rick didn’t realize it at the time, the ceremony had also freed Angel from Dante’s chains.
Troy had done that. Freed her.
It gave Rick great hope.
There was just one tremendous obstacle standing in his way.
His precious Whitney.
The last thing Rick wanted was for his daughter to find out that he’d been turned werewolf. He didn’t want his precious Whitney to know that her daddy was one of Dante’s damned. He feared there would be no way to get Troy’s help without Shane finding out. And whatever Shane knew, Whitney eventually found out.
God, this was a royal mess if he’d ever seen one.
Rick was also aware, through instinct rather than direct knowledge, that Dante had been assigning tasks to his damned. By a matter of logic, there was no reasonable way that Dante himself had turned so many of the town’s innocent residents into werewolves. There had been way too many of them at that meeting. Hundreds. It pained him to think about, but he was fairly certain that there were only a handful of mortal residents left. At least half of his precinct had been turned. Most of the shop owners had been present at the meeting on the old Halsey land. If there were as many as one hundred untouched residents, he’d be surprised.
How had this nightmare torpedoed into existence right under his nose without him ever seeing it?
He needed a distraction. He needed to get through the rest of the night and hope like hell that when he woke up he felt in full control of himself. Then, when he was sure he could go out without the risk of shifting, he would find Troy, beg him to swear to secrecy, and hopefully get this curse he’d been living with fully reversed.
Rick opened his refrigerator and stared unseeingly at its contents. He’d made a trip to the local grocery store out on the plains recently to stock up on red meat. Grilling was one of his favorite things to do, and he loved himself a juicy steak, but ever since he’d been turned it all tasted dead to him. The urge to hunt was strong. He craved fresh meat. He thirsted for warm blood and wanted to taste it flowing into his mouth.
But worst of all, he knew that he was hungry for human flesh. Taking down a deer out in the woods just wasn’t going to cut it.
He startled at the sounds of someone pounding on his door.
For a flickering second, he nearly had a heart attack that Dante was here to make his dark demands, but knocking wasn’t exactly the rogue werewolf’s style.
Whitney surged to mind so he rushed to the front door, unlocked it, and threw it open to find Shane standing on the other side with two of his brothers, Conor and Dean.
“It’s late, what can I do for you?” he asked Shane, who looked serious and slightly out of breath.
“It’s Rachel,” Shane told him. “She’s been arrested and you have to release her.”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Rick ordered when both Conor and Dean launched into chaotic explanations that he couldn’t make heads or tails out of. They were talking over one another and all he’d caught were the names Adelaide and Friendly. “What was Rachel arrested for?”
Conor caught his breath and said, “For defending herself against Adelaide Marple for breaking into her apartment.”
Rick frowned. He didn’t like it when people sugarcoated their answers.
Dean clarified, “She shot and killed Adelaide Marple in her apartment.”
Before Rick could respond or even process the news, Conor insisted, “Adelaide was one of Dante’s damned.” It gave Rick serious pause and he felt his blood turn cold in his veins. “She shifted into her wolf for to attack and the second Rachel pulled the trigger, Adelaide turned human again. You have to believe it was in self-defense.”
“Where’s Friendly in all of this?” he asked.
Conor and Dean exchanged a worried look as Shane told him, “Detective Friendly arrested her. Apparently, he heard the shot, entered the apartment, and found Rachel kneeling over the body. It doesn’t look good for Rachel.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Rick agreed. “Let me grab my coat.”
Having collected his coat and sheriff’s hat, he left with the Quinn men and climbed into Shane’s pickup truck without thinking.
As they tore out of his driveway, Conor and Dean following in their own trucks, Rick realized he was trapped in an enclosed space with Shane. What if Rick turned? What if he broke out into a cold sweat and Shane guessed the reason why?
“What are you going to do?” Shane asked as they flew up Bison Road.
“The best I can, Shane,” he said. “I can’t promise I’ll get her out tonight, though. Courts won’t be open until tomorrow morning.”
“What about the big picture? It was self-defense.”
“I’ll do what I can for Rachel.”
“You’re losing control of the station,” Shane warned him.
But the sheriff already knew that.
When they reached Main Street, the line of trucks pulled up to the curb and everyone climbed out. Conor was the first in the door and rushed all the way through to the jail cells where Rachel was balled up and looking forlorn on the bench, her knees tucked to her chin and head hanging.
She lifted her head as they neared and her big, brown eyes sprang wide and white all around, locking onto Rick.
In an instant, she was on her feet in front of him. “Sir, I never meant to kill—”
“Don’t say anything,” Rick interrupted her. “You know better than to talk. Did you make your phone call?”
“No, Eddie has me rotting in here.”
“You’re going to want to call your union rep. I don’t care if this wasn’t an on-the-job shooting. It’s part of an ongoing investigation that you were a part of and working after hours.”
�
��Yes, Sir.”
“Friendly!” he barked and as Eddie rounded through to discover Rick standing within a pack of Quinns, he looked far from pleased. “Keys!”
“I can hold her for—”
“You can listen to me,” he cut in, “and do as I say. Give me the key to her cell. Now.”
Rather than produce the key or unlock Rachel’s cell himself, Eddie planted his fists on his hips and stalked straight up to Rick. He didn’t stop until he was chest-to-chest and staring down his nose at the sheriff.
“She isn’t going anywhere, is she, Rick?” he challenged as the Quinn men looked on.
“She is, boy,” he said, standing up to the dark werewolf who had gotten completely out of hand. “I am the sheriff around here and you will do as I say.”
Eddie sneered at him and glared for a long moment.
“You sure you want to do this, Sheriff?” he warned as he jingled the key in front of Rick’s face.
“Watch me.” Rick snatched the key and opened Rachel’s cell.
She darted out and Conor captured her in his arms. He held her for a long moment, Shane and Dean looking on, and then they walked to her desk where she began making phone calls as Rick had advised.
Eddie leaned in and hissed through clenched teeth, “You just made a huge mistake, Sheriff. We need her, and if she isn’t locked in here at night, I’m not sure when I’ll get a chance to turn her.”
“You leave her alone,” he ordered.
But Eddie was already laughing and walking away.
Rick found Conor standing beside Rachel’s desk as she made a hushed phone call. He waved Conor over and ordered him, “You stay with her and on her once she leaves the station, you hear? Don’t let her out of your sight whether she likes it or not. I mean it, Conor. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
***
“Your apartment is a crime scene,” Conor reminded her. “Your last apartment was practically burned to the ground.”
Rachel stood on the sidewalk outside of the police station. She looked lost. Indecisive. In disbelief of what had become of her life, but Rick had released her. Somewhere inside the station, Detective Eddie Friendly was fuming. Conor didn’t know what the sheriff and the detective had discussed in front of the open jail cell; he only knew what the result had been. Rick had ordered Conor to stay with Rachel no matter what. It gave Conor the distinct impression that Rachel’s life was in danger. And Conor took the order seriously.
“You’re coming with me to my cabin,” he informed her. “My truck is across the street.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t hem or haw or argue. Without comment she climbed into the passenger’s seat, fastened her seatbelt, and stared straight ahead as he pulled a U-turn and headed down Main until Bison where they connected to the Highland Highway. He didn’t speed. He checked his mirrors, keeping an eye out for any vehicles that might be making the same turns and following them.
Dante wanted Rachel for his army, and Conor was not going to let that happen.
“Can’t catch a break in terms of living alone,” he commented.
“I didn’t have a single problem until I moved out of Jack’s apartment,” she said regretfully. “I shouldn’t have tried to fix something that wasn’t broken in the first place.”
Conor pulled in when they reached his cabin that was the last on the right. The air felt warm yet crisp as they climbed out and made their way inside.
“I can’t believe Adelaide was a werewolf,” she remarked as she collapsed onto the couch and rested her head back. “How did you brother miss that?”
“Dean?” he asked. “I don’t know, but it depends on when she was turned.”
Rachel lifted her head and looked at him. “You think she was turned after Dean was with her all those days?”
“I think Dante has a vested interest in turning people who seem to be close to us Quinns,” he allowed.
She thought about that for a long moment then asked, “It sounds like I might have to become a werewolf either way.”
Conor sat beside her, concerned, and said, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Rachel.”
“Don’t I, though?” she challenged. “The only way to guarantee that Dante or one of his damned don’t turn me is to become one of your werewolves.”
Technically, she was right. It would be a guarantee. The only guarantee. But if only Dante could be stopped, caught, and killed once and for all, that would certainly be a guarantee as well. He didn’t want Rachel to destroy her life just to escape the rogue werewolf’s long reach.
“Let’s not do anything crazy, alright?” he said as he placed his hand over hers.
It had been an instinct to touch her, to comfort her. He hadn’t thought about it. He’d only reacted to her down mood. But now that his hand was over hers, he realized how bold he’d been.
Rachel didn’t pull her hand away, though. Instead, she turned her palm up and laced her fingers with his.
It was such a small, simple gesture, but to Conor it felt huge. As he stared at their clasped hands, he felt her eyes on him and met her gaze. Her eyes were big and brown as always, but he could also see something that looked like need behind them. She needed him. He couldn’t tell how much or how deeply or for how long that need would last, but it was clear to him that in this moment Rachel needed to be with him.
He leaned in, moving slowly and cautiously, and she didn’t pull back or look away. She searched his eyes as he neared her and when he pressed his lips to hers, she met him with soft passion.
He helped her head to tilt, having stroked his fingers through her wavy, brown hair, and deepened the kiss. She still smelled like coconuts, but her scent mixed with sweat, that sweet natural smell he’d come to love.
Rachel wrapped her arms around his muscular shoulders and held him close, her movements and the way she clutched him full of need. It made Conor’s heart soar to sense her intensity. He’d never felt it before. The electric strength of her need for him. It felt like she was desperate to consume him, like she didn’t want to be only herself anymore, like she wanted to pull him inside of her and never let him go.
She shifted on the couch, throwing her leg over him and coming to straddle his lap. She held his face in both of her warm hands as they kissed. She was hungry, soft murmuring moans escaped her lips, as she began to graze her fingertips along the chiseled line of his strong jaw if she wasn’t raking her fingers through his shaggy hair.
“Rachel,” he groaned.
“Don’t talk,” she breathed in-between kisses.
She discarded her shirt next and he drank in the sight of her beautiful chest as she traced the shape of his lips with her finger, her head cocked to the side, studying him. Her nude chest was soft and supple, the length of her abdomen taut and toned. Even her collarbone and neck seemed to boast the kind of delicate strength that he’d come to associate with her personality.
As he gently caressed his hands up her torso, the dire straits that Rachel found herself in suddenly struck him. Was she actually considering becoming a werewolf, one of the Quinn pack, just to save herself from Dante? It both pained and confused him. Yes, he would’ve liked to have learned that she was meant to be his one true mate. In that scenario, yes, she would become a werewolf, but it would have been motivated by love not fear. He would never want Rachel to choose to become like him out of fear.
And yet, he was reminded of himself. Hadn’t he considered hustling to find his own one true mate just to avoid Dante’s damage? Hadn’t he discussed that very fear with Dean at Angel’s Food that day? How could he judge Rachel for succumbing to the same logic, motivated by the same kind of fear?
She’d asked him not to talk so he kept his thoughts to himself as he cupped and massaged her supple chest, feeling the smooth surface of Rachel’s lips brushing against his.
If she asked him to turn her, then he would. If she never brought it up again and never again asked him, he would leave it alone.
For t
he first time in his life he felt completely committed to honoring the wants and wishes of another person, regardless of his own needs. It occurred to him that for this reason Rachel was making him a better man.
She kissed him deeply and he wrapped his arms around her slender waist, as her wavy brown hair spilled down over his cheeks, swallowing him in silk and the scent of coconuts.
She leaned over, urging him down onto the couch with her as she settled onto her back. Conor eased in-between her spreading legs. The length of his hard body came to rest over hers. He gently cupped her cheek with one large hand and searched her eyes. The smile that came over her in response looked heavy, but the sparkle behind her big brown eyes was bright.
“Kiss me,” she breathed, “and don’t stop.”
He did. As their lips pressed together, every cell in Conor’s body woke up with an electric crackle. She ignited him. He’d never felt so alive as he did when he was with her. He would give her whatever she wanted and do whatever she asked.
As she began to wriggle under him, pushing her shorts down her hips, he lifted up onto his knees and carried out the effort until she was lying stretched out before him in her panties. She motioned to get those off as well and he took over. He studied the beautiful line of her exposed sex as he tossed her panties to the floor, the light dusting of soft hair, the shape of her. He was certain he’d never seen such a beautiful creature.
He pulled his tee-shirt off and discarded it to the floor as well. He liked how she was looking at him. The weight of her smile had lifted and she seemed light and relaxed.
Before lowering over her, he unbuttoned his jeans and she rose up and shoved them down his narrow hips. She grinned at the sight of his boxer-briefs or possibly at what was underneath them. His body had hardened for her. The shape of his arousal beneath his underwear left little to the imagination.
Rachel wrapped her hand around his hard shape, nothing but cotton between them, and explored his size as she squeezed and stroked his body.
He let out a relaxed groan and his eyes drifted shut for a moment, as he savored the feel of the sensual massage she was delivering.
Then he had to free himself of his jeans. He stepped off the couch and made quick work of kicking his boots off and stepping out of his jeans. When he kneeled back onto the couch, she slipped her fingers under the elastic band of his boxer-briefs and smiled up at him, indicating she’d like those to come off as well.
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