First Bite is the Deepest: Dances With Werewolves Book Two Page 11

  “I thought you said you were relieved when the show finished?”

  “I lied.” He rubbed his jaw line. Already the stubble was growing in? “The show gave me a sense of being special.” He glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear their conversation. “I’d been the alpha male, ready to lead the pack, then I ran into Dr. Galloway and suddenly I was just another lowly follower. I hate following. And I guess I still needed to prove myself from a rotten childhood.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re mega-rich and famous. How much more do you need to prove?”

  “Don’t know.” He let out a loud exhale. “Maybe it’s sublimation for other desires?” He caught her eye and then watched her face redden as she caught his drift.

  “Well, I guess you’ll enjoy the new fans from this article then.” She took a large gulp of her coffee, coughing slightly at the heat. Obviously she was trying to hurry so she could get away from him.

  “Guess I will.” He stared into the creamy foam on his latte now wanting to flee as well. She couldn’t be more direct in her rejection than that. They both sipped in silence as he scrambled to think of something—anything—to make her care about him.

  She finished her drink and stood, her chair scraping loudly on the stone tiles. “Thanks for the coffee and…” She held up the photo.

  He stood. “Sure.” He leaned over and kissed her on her lips before she could stop him. It was just a brief peck, but better than nothing. “Goodbye, Ella. And be careful. I hear those parks guys are here specifically to catch you and your mate.” He turned swiftly and walked away. Damn, it had all gone wrong and he was screwed.

  ****

  I was still reeling from his kiss—jeez, wasn’t the hyper-sexual response supposed to be only before the full moon? Every time he’d casually touched me I’d had to physically refrain from launching myself into his arms—when it hit me. What did he mean by “my mate”? Had he imagined I’d somehow suddenly found another werecougar? Jeez without the dating sites and overanxious mothers, there was really no way to meet my kind on the west coast. He was probably just emphasizing how I was not his mate. Frig. As if I needed more reminders.

  Maybe he was just saying he wouldn’t save me again. I knew his touchy feely-ness wasn’t personal; he was like that before we’d even slept together. Probably a bloody wolf thing. And how did those rangers find out about me? Had his pack outed me out of spite?

  Reeling in my spiraling worries, I put on my business face and briskly strode back into the office.

  I plunked Robert’s photo on Dani’s desk. “Here’s the pic and I’ll send you the article.” I’d interrupted her on the phone and she glanced up with an annoyed expression. Well why should anyone like me today? I didn’t even like myself. I waved and exited her office.

  Robert had bitched about how he’d come across in my article, but at least he hadn’t insisted I change anything. Probably he was looking forward to potential groupies. I’d never personally gotten any fan mail on my celebrity pieces, but with LoveLifeStyle’s circulation, he would get some new female attention. My heart sank at the mental image of him making love to other women. His bite would certainly work on some other, more appropriate, mate.

  ****

  CHAPTER 8

  I woke to the dulcet tones of the dog next door barking up a blue storm. Frig. Leaping out of bed, I scrambled to the bedroom window. No one was out there, but the moonlight highlighted tell-tale paw prints in the wet grass leading to my back porch. God damn it, another bloody gift bag! They seemed to be turning up every day now. And how come the dog senses whoever’s leaving that crap and I don’t? I guess if I slept outside, I’d have heard or smelt the bastard, too.

  After slipping on the leopard-patterned housecoat and matching slippers that Leanne gave me for my last birthday—we’d done a LoveLifeStyle “What Animal Are You?” quiz and, what a surprise, I was a cat—and trudged down the steps and into my kitchen. I grabbed a couple of plastic grocery bags in preparation. The paw prints indicated my benefactor was a large animal so it probably was one of Robert’s pack. But why would they still be pissed at me? By now he must’ve told anyone who knew about me that I wasn’t a werewolf and he’d dumped me. Unless they hated me because I was a cat?

  I steeled myself and then opened the back door. Hell. As I scooped the grizzly mess into the plastic bag, a small white piece of paper inside the gift wrap caught my eye. A note? Had the other bags also held notes that I’d missed in my haste to dispose of the vile offerings? I hadn’t had the nerve to check if the mangled prey looked like wildlife or pets. Using the plastic to cover my hand, I pulled the paper out of the bag and dropped it on the stoop. Even through my makeshift glove the feel of the damp blood saturating the paper turned my stomach. I flipped the note and read the messy scrawl.

  I warn you. Stay away from man. Or I kill big prey.

  What the hell did that mean? Which man? Did they mean Robert? It probably wasn’t his pack or they’d be more specific. And why would anyone else care unless—holy crap! The stilted English sounded familiar. Could it be the guy Mom brought from Europe all those years ago? What was his name? Something with a J. But why would he care and why now? And what does he mean by “big prey”? Is he threatening to kill Robert or will I start to get gift bags with dead cows?

  Damn, what to do. If I called Robert, he might think I was making up stuff to get to see him again. But if it was that jerk I’d rejected, could he either kill Robert or expose his secret? Robert would hate me even more if I endangered his pack.

  No, the note said “man” and besides, Robert had only transitioned the once at my place and that was before all the dead animals started appearing. I left the note lying on my porch and finished bagging the rest of the gift to toss in the garbage. Regardless, whoever was doing this was a sick person. Or wereanimal, I guess, considering both the footprints and the note.

  ****

  “You said you’d take care of the cougar problem.” Lucas looked up from the newspaper opened on Robert’s breakfast table and glared at him as he entered the kitchen.

  “Good morning to you, too.” Robert walked behind his brother to set up the coffee. Shit, what now?

  “Darryl says that damn cat is getting braver and meaner. It threatened some woman with her baby in her own back yard near Mount Pleasant.” Lucas stood and watched him count the scoops of coffee into the filter. “Well?”

  “I warned Ella yesterday about the wildlife officers.”

  Lucas shook his head in disbelief. “You warned her? Hell Robert, we need more concrete action than that.”

  Robert added one more scoop of coffee before answering. “Last night I finally got info on her mate from both the FBI and Immigration. It’s worse than I expected. Seems Ella’s hooked up with a fucking psychopath.”

  Lucas’s eyes widened with alarm. “What?”

  “Just a sec.” Robert abandoned the coffee pot and went into his office to grab the faxes. He started reading one aloud as he re-entered the kitchen. “His name is Jerzie Kamil. He’s either 36 or 38 years old, depending on the source, and from the Ukraine. There’s no info on him from prior to immigrating which is odd—no employers, family, nothing. And then there were various attempts to wipe out anything new. Chris, in DC, said he kept getting a message that he needed special clearance to access the files so Ella’s friend is obviously well connected.”

  Lucas whistled quietly as he finished making the coffee.

  “But Chris did recover some of the deleted files. Jerzie got married in Pennsylvania and then right after he received his immigration papers, his wife died in a freak accident. Later he was charged with domestic abuse against various girlfriends, but again most of these were dropped and someone buried the records. He has no legitimate source of income but appears to have unlimited funds. Here.” Robert handed his brother the bottom two pages. “They’re a little grainy, but here are a few pictures of him with high level government officials.”


  “That him?” Lucas pointed to the clearest of the photos. At Robert’s nod, he continued, “Handsome S.O.B. isn’t he?”

  “Yeah.” Robert growled. Ella had seemed attracted to him but if she preferred steroid-inflated thugs, well no bloody wonder she’d moved on. And Jerzie had all his parts in both his forms. Robert turned to the next fax before his brain started picturing Ella with the jerk. He’d already wasted too much time on that tortuous pastime. “He did something even worse that caused Immigration and Citizenship to try to deport him last year but again, someone erased most of the evidence from the records.”

  “Has he got diplomatic ties, enough money to bribe, or could he be a spy?”

  “Our friends in DC aren’t even guessing. Chris said after his initial search, he got hacked and cyber-spied on. He wasn’t too happy about that.”

  “Sweet mother of mercy. And Ella’s in love with this guy? She seemed normal. Do you think maybe she doesn’t know his past?”

  “Haven’t actually seen them together. I just saw him leave the mangled prey on her back porch.” Robert’s nose curled in disgust.

  “Did she like the dead animals?” Lucas furrowed his brows.

  Robert shrugged. “Must. Otherwise why would he give them to her?”

  “Maybe as a warning?” Lucas grabbed two cups and poured the coffee while Robert fetched the milk from the fridge. “I don’t know cats any better than you do, but I did like Ella. I can’t see her torturing pets any more than I’d think any of our pack would be hunting for food on our runs. We’ve evolved past that to require steak sauce, for chrissake.”

  Robert scratched his scalp considering. “No. She wouldn’t torture pets, but sometimes when women are in love they can turn a blind eye. And the guy is handsome and loaded.”

  “You’re not exactly destitute and ugly, bro. And Ella didn’t come across as a gold digger. If she was, she would’ve tried harder to keep you.”

  “You could be right. Maybe she’s not in love with him.” Robert smiled at the new sliver of hope. “And if he’s not her mate, I can be a little rougher in getting rid of him.”

  “You’re not back to murder?”

  “God no, Lucas. It’ll be perfectly legal and he’ll survive. He just may not want to.” Robert took a sip of coffee, then put down his cup. “I’ve got to change and go. Lock up on your way out.”

  ****

  Driving into work he felt lighter than he had in weeks. Hell, he almost felt as good as when Ella and he had been falling all over each other in that sex-crazed week. Almost. Which was sick, if he thought about it. Here he was preparing to tell his ex-lover that her new man was a psychopath. If she was in love with the guy, it’d devastate her. And if she wasn’t, it might scare the shit out of her. So why was he happy?

  Because I’m going to win her back. He hit the gas a little harder and passed the old lady dawdling in the left lane. He’d make Ella see that they were meant for each other and if anyone in the pack had a problem with her, he’d deal with them.

  The traffic light ahead flipped from green to yellow. It’d be red before he reached the intersection. Bah. He stepped on the brake. Then he stomped on it harder. What the hell? Traffic started crossing in front of him. He yanked on the hand brake then slammed his hand onto his horn as his car fishtailed into the busy intersection. The screeching brakes, crunching of metal as the side of his door crashed inward, and horns blaring were all instantly muted as his air bags poofed loudly around him, jamming him back into his seat. A searing pain shot down his left side. A second car smashed into him and his car spun in the opposite direction. Jesus! Fucking hot pokers jabbed throughout his body as all his nerve endings screamed at his brain for relief.

  Robert fought the urge to pass out. He needed to tell the ambulance guys to take him to Memorial Hospital. There were enough of the pack’s doctors there to cover up when his wounds started miraculously healing. Then again he wished his body would start fixing itself to take away the bloody agony. His car finally stopped moving and there were a few seconds of total quiet.

  Blaring car alarms, people yelling, emergency vehicle sirens all rushed in to fill the silence. God he hoped no one else was injured badly. What had happened? His car had been in for a complete service check about a month ago—the day of the auction, come to think of it.

  His brain kept trying to shut down in shock but he managed to hold on until the paramedics arrived. Only when he saw that his first responder was his distant cousin Paula, did he let himself slide into sweet oblivion.

  ****

  “Ah, damn!” Robert threw the LoveLIfeStyle magazine onto the bed in disgust. Now adding to his quest for love, the tabloid had tagged on an addendum implying he’d attempted suicide by smashing his car into a crowded intersection. How could Ella have done that to him? Letting him read the piece and then sliding in the lies afterward. She knew it couldn’t be true. If he wanted to die, he’d have to do it in wolf form.

  Then again, it wasn’t as though she could explain that to anyone. His family had whisked him, supposedly in critical condition, to a private clinic out of town. They would’ve said he hadn’t sustained any real injuries except the head of the ER had stepped in for the assessment when he’d heard the Colbert name. Then the pack doctor had to keep reopening the healing wounds while pretending to sew them up until the doctor had been paged to another floor. Now Robert was captive in Lucas’s house unable to go anywhere for fear of discovery.

  At least the people in the other cars hadn’t been too hurt. There were going to be a few lawsuits given his wealth, though. And with the magazine article, probably they’d go after him even more. Hopefully his mechanic could quickly prove his brakes had gone before the accident.

  Jesus. He was tempted to sue the magazine but that’d only give that stinking tabloid crap more publicity. And Ella. He kept coming back to her betrayal. There he’d been hoping to win her back and she did that? He’d scoured the extra paragraphs several times to find evidence that someone else had written them but it was her writing style. Maybe she’d been pressured into making her story more sensational. But still…

  What would she say if he asked her about the piece? Would she lie and say someone else wrote the ending? Could she lie about it? He’d always assumed with her uncontrollable blushing that she’d be a lousy liar. As far as he knew, she’d only omitted telling him things. Like that she was a cat. He growled in frustration.

  Then again she had hinted she was half cat when he’d told her he was a werewolf. He just hadn’t believed her. God that seemed so long ago, standing in her living room annoyed when she wouldn’t listen or believe him. She’d said she wouldn’t be a werewolf and he’d thought she was being stubborn and stupid. What if she’d told him she was a werecougar back then? Would he still have fallen in love with her?

  He picked up the magazine and flipped to the small picture over her by-line. She was pretty, not stunning. Her expressive blue eyes dominated the photo but her mischievous smile made her look like an intelligent and fun person you’d want to know. The picture didn’t show her tenacious side or the gutsy but wary aspect of her personality. She certainly wasn’t predictable. Was that because she was half feline? Maybe he loved her because of her cougar temperament and not in spite of it.

  But she’d betrayed him. That could not be forgiven. God, being trapped in this house gave him way too much time alone with his thoughts. He paced around the confines of the large guest room. Why the hell couldn’t they have taken him to his own house? If anyone questioned the lights and actions in the house his family could’ve said a distant relative was looking after the place while Robert recovered. But no, Lucas had to be so cautious. He took pack secrecy to an even higher level of paranoia than their dad.

  A faint knock on the door halted him mid stride. Must be Rosie, Lucas would’ve just entered. He forced himself to smile—it wasn’t her fault she was stuck with him as a house guest—before opening the door.

  “Hey Rosie. What’
s up?”

  “I just wanted to see how you’re doing—” Her brow creased with anxiety. Had she heard him pacing from downstairs?

  “I’m fine, just a little restless.”

  “Good. Um…” She glanced down the hallway. “Look, Lucas was worried about telling you, but…your girlfri—I mean, Ella has been calling the house quite a bit trying to find out how you are. I know you guys broke up, and well, she writes for a gossip magazine, but she really does sound concerned.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “The same thing we say to everyone, ‘Robert is recuperating well and we hope to have him home soon.’ But, I mean, she knows about the quick healing, right?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.” He patted her shoulder. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell Lucas you told me.”

  She chuckled. “It’s okay, I’ll probably end up confessing before nightfall. Neither of us are much good at hiding things from each other.”

  Yeah, unlike him and Ellie, both masters at revealing only as much as necessary.

  ****

  “How could you have just added that lie on to the end of my story about Robert Colbert?” I’d barreled into Dani’s office, not even pausing to knock.

  She ignored me at first, typing rapidly on her keyboard, then slowly raised a derisive gaze. “I am the editor. It’s my job to make this magazine dynamic. Your piece said nothing.” She shook her head as if annoyed she even had to justify her actions. “If Robert Colbert had gotten a new show, then someone might’ve cared about the ‘poor little rich boy looking for love’ angle. But as it was, I had two choices, can the piece or add something pertinent. I needed filler and his suicide attempt saved your article.”