Bite Deep (21 page)

He heaved a heavy sigh and headed for the small bedroom to pack. The Association had been most interested when Coulter had mentioned the files Lydia's mother had left behind and he'd been given firm instructions to retrieve them.

Packing what little he'd taken out of his black duffel bag, he decided a shower was in order and began to strip, feeling old. When he'd spied the telltale bite mark on her hand, the tragedy of it had stolen his breath. Despite not knowing his niece personally, she was blood, family. But even if somehow she survived the change, thanks to the altered genetics from her father, there was no way the Association would consider her a candidate. She was tainted. Lost to him.

Stepping into the shower, he prayed Lydia wasn't home when he attempted to retrieve the files. He didn't want to see her, couldn't stand to be reminded of how he'd failed. And mostly, he didn't want to be the one to explain the fate that waited for her.

Chapter 20

Lydia tried not to stare in Jericho's direction and when her steak came she focused on her food, eating slowly and trying to concentrate on what Jamie was saying. But her attention kept being drawn towards Jericho's location, his presence a magnet. She knew he had seen her when he had entered the restaurant; she had felt his eyes on her like a physical touch.

‘Lydia?'

She gave a start and realised Jamie had asked her a question. She finished chewing her mouthful, running through her mind what he'd said last. Something about new recruits and training at the fire station. ‘And you're one of the trainers?' She took a stab in the dark about where the conversation had been heading.

He nodded, biting into a chip with a thoughtful expression. ‘Since last year. I really enjoy it.'

With effort, she focused on his broad and handsome face and wondered what a normal relationship would be like, with a normal man. Even as she thought it, her gaze kept darting behind Jamie towards Jericho, a dangerous man no doubt capable of great violence. She was losing her mind, finding herself attracted to him. Losing. Her. Mind.

As soon as she was able, she excused herself to visit the bathroom. Once inside, she waited in a cubicle until a mother had finished cleaning up her protesting child and she was alone. Stepping out, she splashed some cold water over her face, then sucked in a few deep breaths and tried to sort out what was going on. She tucked her hair behind her ears and gave her reflection a hard stare. It was obvious she was attracted to Jericho. Try as she might, she couldn't get him out of her mind. Which meant trouble, since she had a defect when it came to choosing men.

Knowing she'd probably been in the toilet so long that Jamie might think she'd done a runner, she exited the ladies and headed down the narrow corridor, back towards the restaurant. She was almost at the end when a large figure appeared, blocking her way. Her feet stumbled to a halt when she saw it was Jericho and her heart began to thump wildly.

‘Officer Gault.' Her name was a purr on his lips. He stepped towards her and out of instinct, she shuffled back. A slow smile spread across his face. She commanded her feet to stay still and straightened her spine, wanting to show she wasn't bothered being caught in close quarters with him.

‘Mr Jericho.' She tried to move around him, but he shifted to stop her.

‘Are you on a date tonight?' His eyes flashed and Lydia swore he almost sounded annoyed.

‘That would be none of your business.' She made a sweeping gesture with her hands. ‘Please get out of my way.'

He said nothing, eyes trailing down her body, then his lips parted in a smile as he leaned closer. She smelled meat on his breath. He suddenly reminded her of a predator with a full belly, lazily playing with his next meal.

‘If I'd known you were looking for some company tonight,' he said. ‘I would have been glad to oblige.'

‘You've got the wrong idea,' she bit out. He'd seen her weak and pathetic back at the party, jumping at shadows and that show of helplessness made her angry. ‘If I needed company, you'd be the last person I'd call.'

A surge of satisfaction shot through her when his smile dropped, all playfulness draining from his eyes. One of his hands shot out and grabbed her own, examining it. Distracted by the contact, it took Lydia a moment to realise he was examining the fading mark he'd given her. She snatched her hand back.

‘Keep your hands off me,' she snapped.

‘Why?' Jericho leaned closer. ‘I know you like it.'

‘Being an asshole is exactly the reason you got cuffed the last time.' She went to shove past him, but he shifted forward and pushed her back, coming in close. Her back knocked the wall behind her and to her absolute horror, warmth spread through her lower belly.

Jericho leaned closer. ‘You've got the tough act down and you think you see me? But I see you too, Constable Gault. I see the wish in your eyes, for some dark pain to be erased.'

Breath squeezed from her lungs and she blinked, seeing spots. She needed to get away from him.
Now
. But her feet betrayed her and refused to move.

‘After all, what kind of cop storms a biker bar, alone?' His eyes took on a knowing glint. ‘Maybe a cop with something to prove, or a death wish.'

Her chest squeezed tighter. Did he know about her attack? In a small town, gossip was a currency—how hard would it have been to unearth details of her past? A tremour shook her body as ghostly memories rose up, clogging her thoughts with unwanted memories. He knew, everyone knew, and it felt like no matter how far she ran, Peter Randall would always haunt her.

* * *

When Lydia's body began to tremble, Jericho stepped back, worried. His ears tuned out the chatter of patrons over their meals, zeroing in on her breath as it turned erratic. For an agonising moment, he wondered if somehow the infection was taking hold, even at this late date. She didn't look to have a fever, but how could he be sure? Her pulse strummed in her neck, a soft flutter of flesh that moved too fast. She was afraid of him and the thought shamed him.

‘Breathe deep, Lydia,' he commanded, taking her hands gently. She obeyed, sucking in shaky breaths, eyes pinned on his chest. After a few moments, her breath slowed and she pulled away.

He eyed her warily. ‘Do I frighten you?'

She tilted her chin to glare at him. ‘I find you annoying.'

He ignored the insult, along with the sound of approaching footsteps behind him. ‘But something frightens you. And you carry it close.'

The footsteps stopped behind him and he heard a male voice ask, ‘Lydia? Is this guy bothering you?'

He didn't turn, eyes still on Lydia, wanting to know she was okay. That it wasn't him that caused the stink of panic to wash from her.

‘Get away from her.' A hand grabbed his arm and he allowed himself to be pulled around. Her date was a fraction shorter than him, with crystal clear blue eyes and tousled blond hair. Jericho's eyes dropped to the man's hand on his arm.

‘Best get that off me,' he warned.

The man frowned, but dropped his hand. He looked over at Lydia. ‘Are you okay?'

Jericho moved back now, arms rigid by his side. ‘She should go home.'

‘Don't tell me what to do.' Lydia's voice sounded stronger and he almost smiled. Good. Anything was better than her fear. He shifted toward her without thinking, lifting a hand, wanting to comfort.

‘Don't touch her.' The man grabbed him now and took a swing. Jericho avoided it easily, then sank his right fist into his belly. Working on instinct to defend. To protect. The man staggered back, but didn't fall.

‘What the hell are you doing?' Lydia threw herself at him, trying to shove him back.

‘I'm okay,' the man gasped. Jericho was impressed the guy was still standing. He'd pulled his punch somewhat, but it should have been enough to drop a man. But he just glared at him, rubbing his stomach.

Jericho watched as Lydia turned to help the man, shooting death glares over her shoulder at him as they returned to their table. He waited a moment, then strode across the room to where Vaughn waited with an amused look as he pushed a chip around a puddle of gravy. Jericho knew the Enforcer had probably heard the whole conversation.

‘Issue with the cop?' Vaughn popped the chip into his mouth and chewed slowly. ‘Sad when a man can't keep control of his woman.'

‘I told you, she's not mine,' Jericho said shortly.

‘I heard the tone of her voice when she was talking to you. You've got one very hot and bothered woman there.'

‘What would you know about it?' Jericho shot back.

‘I know women.'

‘And just how is Karla now?'

Vaughn chewed his chip slowly. ‘Be careful, my friend.'

‘I'm not your friend.' Jericho smelled victory and went for the kill. ‘Have you seen Karla's daughter, Alice? Sweet kid. Bit wild. Could have used a daddy looking after her, growing up.'

Vaughn stopped chewing. ‘You got something you want to say?'

‘Nope.' Jericho started sawing into his steak, popping a forkful into his mouth and chewing. ‘I think I've said all I need to.'

Chapter 21

Lydia was grateful when the dinner with Jamie ended. He was clearly disappointed that nothing more was going to happen, but took it in his stride, walking her back to her car and not trying any moves. For which she was thankful.

She drove up to the house and braked near the porch, deciding to sit for a minute and enjoy the night music of the surrounding forest. Tomorrow was Monday, but the thought of pulling on her uniform left her feeling cold. She debated calling in sick, and gave an amused snort. Bowden would probably be relieved. She got the feeling she was proving to be a real thorn in his side. Not that it was her fault Bowden was a lazy bastard who didn't want to rock the boat.

She'd spent some time that weekend checking the internet for information about the Diablo Dogs, but couldn't even find a website. Elaine had even told her a rumour they ran a survivalist compound behind the bar, but Google Earth only showed dense forest. She wondered what their deal was and how many men were really in their little club. Motorcycle gang her ass. She knew they were hiding something. Maybe a few acres of cannabis plants, with enough income to keep the local law silent.

Heaving herself out of the Solbergs' old ute, she walked slowly to the dark house. Around her, the forest was blanketed in a deep purple dusk, a cold wind rustling branches and ruffling her hair. She was glad she was no longer so afraid of the dark, though as she felt her heart race, she knew she was kidding herself. She wondered dryly if there was ever a time in her life she hadn't feared something. As she'd grown into an adult, she'd convinced herself that monsters didn't exist and had become strong, capable. But after the attack, all her old fears had flooded to the surface. Sometimes she felt like she was rotting from within from a silent terror of the world around her.

The door swung open at her touch and she froze. In the darkness, she couldn't see if the lock had been busted, but if Greta had entered the house while Lydia wasn't there, she wouldn't have used the front door, let alone left it unlocked.

Easing inside the inky darkness of the house, her ears strained in the quiet, trying to pick up a noise that was alien, trying pinpoint what didn't belong. She hurried to the kitchen, bumping her hip painfully against the counter as she went. Deciding to risk a little light, she clicked on a small side lamp near the television. Warm light flooded the room and she blinked, eyes quickly sweeping the room for something out of place. At first nothing jumped out at her and she stepped into the kitchen, senses on high alert. Eyes dropping, she finally saw it. A smear of blood on the bench. Boiling anger veiled her thoughts. If this was a matter of Novak and his drunken mates returning again, she was going to press charges. Or rather, she'd just shoot them,
then
press charges. If blood had been spilt, then it meant things had gone too far and someone was hurt.

She raced to her bedroom, grabbing her work gun from her closet, then returned to the kitchen. Her eyes dropped to the blood on the counter again, and she hoped desperately it didn't belong to one of the Solbergs. Taking a deep breath, she ran outside and into the night.

* * *

Jericho was having trouble concentrating. His bike rumbled reassuringly underneath him and the wind in his face reminded him what freedom felt like, but all he could think about was Lydia. She'd left with her date before Vaughn had finished trying to browbeat him with more 'civilised' talk and hints about Jericho leaving Camden peacefully. Typical Enforcer shit. He knew, because he'd done the same thing himself when he was trying to maintain the peace as an Enforcer. Take a red-flagged Breed to a public place for a sit-down. Have a conversation, laced with double meanings and veiled threats. But if Vaughn thought he could toss Jericho and the MC aside like garbage, he had an education coming. No one, not even the Breed Council or the King, could separate the crew from their duty. He'd struggled too long and hard to keep the peace for it all to fall apart now.

He tried to clear his head and concentrate on the winding road before him. He'd only start to worry if Vaughn came after him with claws. Administration issues could get fucked. His main concern right now was finding a killer in his town, and discovering why Thomas Coulter was here. The idea that he'd come to potentially recruit Lydia sent a chill through his bones. His men hadn't been able to tie Coulter to any town locals and Jericho knew it was time to take him out, before any real damage was done.

He realised his bike was heading to Lydia's place. Just to check on her, he rationalised, just to make sure she was okay. And maybe to check she wasn't still with the fireman. Why she was on a date with that jerk, he couldn't figure. He wasn't the kind of guy Jericho pictured her with. He'd seen the darkness inside of her, saw the shadow of it flicker in her eye. He recognised it, because it was the same kind of darkness that was caged within himself.