by Gwen Knight
Knox’s laughter tightened my shoulders. “Oh, this is priceless. Wait till I tell everyone I caught the great Rumor Hayes nose deep in some dead wolf’s junk.”
“God. Could you be any more unsympathetic? These photos are to compare to the other crime scenes. The police are no closer to tracking this scumbag down.”
“And they won’t.”
The determination in his voice brought me up short. I lifted my head and watched him over the swell of Ditton’s torn up stomach. “What do you mean?”
“Have you seriously not figured it out yet?”
“Figured what out?” I growled.
Knox spread his hands. “Sorry. Far be it for me to share my information with you.”
Bastard. Jackass. Asshole! I wanted to fling every name I knew at him. He’d strung me up and waited for the perfect moment. Course he had. Not sure why that surprised me. The guy had been a douche his whole life.
“What do you know?” I snarled.
“Oh, is it share time?”
Holy hell. Every last button pushed. I scrambled to my feet and slid my phone into my pocket. “What do you think your brother will say when I tell him I castrated his little brother?” My fingernails lengthened into vicious claws.
Knox grinned at me. “He’d thank you, I’m sure.”
Thank me? I shook my head. “Tell me what you know.”
“Only if you tell me what you know.”
“Fine,” I ground out.
“Promise?”
“Yes!”
“Pinky swear?”
“Knox!”
“I love it when you scream my name like that.”
Oh, my God. I really was going to castrate him. Anger rushed through my veins, my vision going black as I struggled to control myself. No one had ever been able to incite a rage in me quite like him.
“All right, Princess. Don’t get your panties in a knot. The reason you haven’t been able to track down their killer yet is because they killed each other.”
My brow twisted. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s no scent of anyone else in the room, other than the police and us. The room is utterly thrashed, but there’s no evidence of forced entry. I’d wager any money that the claw marks on Brittany are a match to Ditton’s, and vice versa. Their throats were ripped out, which seems to be the cause of death, which means they’d have to have been bitten by a werewolf since they didn’t heal. Except, they’re the only two werewolves in this room.”
My mouth fell slack. What the hell? When had Knox grown a brain? I was so accustomed to dealing with his half-wit brother, I hadn’t expected this. Who knew he could string together a cohesive thought?
“Uh…” I shook my head. “Right.”
“That’s it? Right? I just handed you the entire case on a platter, and you can’t even give me a sarcastic response?”
“Ass,” I grumbled.
“That’s better. Now, what do you know?”
Sadly, less than him it seemed. And didn’t that bust my chops. I’d been working this case since it’s infancy, and I hadn’t put together near as much. “What I’m trying to figure out is how these two know each other. Brittany was set to mate with one of our own. She and David have been paired up for a while now. And, last I saw, they were blissfully happy. So, Ditton’s presence is here is disconcerting. When you walked in, I was checking her scent. She reeks of him. And not in the I hate you, let’s kill each other way.”
“You mean in the bumping uglies sort of way?”
I grimaced. “For lack of a better term. Every scene so far matches this situation. But Brittany was the first one to have a mate out there.”
“Or soon-to-be, anyway.”
“Right.” I strode over to Ditton and stared down at him. “So, why is he here?”
“Guess she was having a little fun on the side.”
I shook my head. “Not Brittany.”
“Clearly, yes, Brittany.”
“No,” I snapped. “You didn’t know her. She was dedicated to David. They were sickeningly sweet together.”
Knox shot me a droll look. “What does that have to do with anything? You can be dedicated to someone and still get your rocks off with a stranger.”
I didn’t even want to know. Ignoring that statement, I walked toward her front door and studied it. Just like Knox had said. No forced entry. “So, she lets him in. They become intimate with one another, and then what? Rip each others’ throats out?”
“Would appear to be the situation.”
I turned back to Knox. “But why?”
“That’s what we’re here to figure out, isn’t it?”
Nodding, I strolled around the room and eyed the debris. The cops had done exactly the same thing when I’d first arrived, but who knew, maybe they’d missed something. They didn’t know Brittany like I did. Except, everything seemed normal—other than the complete demolition of the room.
I rounded the corner of her footboard and stopped. “What’s that?”
“What?” Knox asked.
“There. Under the duvet. There’s something green. You see it?” I waved over to the nearest cop. “Hand me some gloves.”
“Uh, ma’am, you can’t touch anything.”
I turned and unleashed the full brunt of my stare on the young cop. “Gloves. Now.”
The man practically squeaked under his breath as he handed over a pair. And this was why I was here. The police hadn’t a clue how to handle werewolves or the supernaturally-inclined society.
Footsteps approached from behind before Knox’s overwhelming presence shadowed over me.
Ignoring his hovering, I crouched and peeled back the blanket, my head cocking as I studied what appeared to be—“Is that…mistletoe?”
Knox lowered beside me, his thigh brushing against mine. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel an urge to push him away.
Instead, I leaned forward and plucked the wreath of mistletoe up from the ground, the thistles sharp against my skin. “Odd.”
“What do you mean? It’s just mistletoe,” Knox murmured.
“Sure, but did you see any other Christmas decorations?”
He stole a glance around the room. “Not a single piece.”
“Exactly. So why would she have mistletoe?”
He turned, and our gazes met. This close, I could count his eyelashes. And his scent…I leaned into him and inhaled, reveling in his woodsy aroma. Part of me was tempted to brush my nose against the thick column of his throat, see if every inch of him was equally delicious.
“Rumor?”
The sound of his voice dragged me back to the task at hand. Clearing my throat, I lowered the mistletoe back to the ground and rose.
Knox took my cue and followed. “What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know.” I blinked and shook out my head, my thoughts a bit fuzzy. All this death was finally getting to me—that had to be it. No way in hell I was attracted to Knox. “But I think it’s time to report to my father. And you with your brother.”
A crooked smile tugged on Knox’s lips. “Please, Eli doesn’t have a clue I’m here, and doesn’t care about all this.”
“Wait, what? Then why are you here?”
Knox turned and pinned me with a stern stare. “Because someone needs to give a shit.”
“And that someone is you?”
“Maybe.”
I shook my head. “I don’t buy it. Why are you really here?”
He leaned forward, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he held my gaze. “Maybe I’m here for you.”
“Doubtful.” I laughed. “Fine, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s your prerogative. But I, on the other hand, do have an alpha I need to report to. So, if you don’t mind…”
Knox stepped back. “By all means.”
I reached for the mistletoe, this time conscious enough to use gloves. It was evidence, after all. “I’ll show this to my father.”
“The mistletoe?”
“There’s something off about it. You don’t feel it?”
“It stinks of magic, but that’s about it.”
I froze. “It what?”
“It stinks. You can’t smell it?”
I lifted it to my nose and inhaled. But the only scent I could pick up was Knox’s. “I can’t smell anything but you,” I growled.
“Kinky,” Knox teased. “Let me know if you or your father turn anything else up.” With a small salute, he turned and strode out of the room.
Finally, I could breathe again. And sure enough, the mistletoe stunk of magic.
Curious.
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About the Author
Gwen Knight is a Canadian girl currently living in Jasper, AB. She graduated from the University of Lethbridge with a degree in Archaeology and Geography. Her interests consist of playing in the dirt, designing elaborate snow forts, boating, and archery. She enjoys meeting new people and can be followed on Facebook and on Twitter. You can also subscribe to her newsletter here.
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For more information:
www.gwenknight.ca
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