Catching the Cat Burglar (12 page)

"Enough. Things - things got complicated between Chase and me."

"Complicated?" He quirks his head to one side in confusion. "But I thought it was really simple. He puts his cock -"

"Groofy!" He can't control himself, and he rolls onto his back and wiggles from side to side, laughing in little puppy-like yelps. I roll my eyes. "I don't have time for this. Good night."

"Wait!" He leaps to his feet. "It's not safe. That's why I was looking for you."

I hesitate, about to turn and stride away. "What's not safe?"

"Honeycomb Falls. The killer is around here. I smelled him."

I shiver. The killer werewolf. Stalking the streets of Honeycomb Falls? I hug myself tightly and glance up and down the street. Everything is silent. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," says Groofy scornfully. "I have a marvelous nose. It can tell me almost anything. Like how creative Chase was when he stuck his -"

My blush turns burgundy, and I cut him off with a strangled, "Shhh! Enough! No more talking about that, ever!"

Groofy just gives me a dirty grin. "Hey, I ain't judging. This one time, I shacked up with this uptown girl, I think she was a Saluki, and she was the first that was willing to -"

"I am going to strangle you." I say this calmly and with complete and utter menace. "If you don't stop."

He reaches up with his hind leg to scratch behind his ear. "Well, you can buy my silence with -"

"Steak," I say, cutting in. "I know. Trust me. And I will. But for now, get somewhere safe. I'm going to be joining the other officers. I'll be safe with them."

Groofy gives me a dubious look. "You think?"

"I'm sure the killer won't bother the entire HFPD. I'm sure. And if he does, we'll take care of him." I say this with more bravado than I feel. "But thank you. For the warning." It hits me then that he's been risking his own life looking for me. "Thank you, Groofy."

"Hey, don't get all mushy on me." His voice gets gruff. "I'm just looking after my source of steaks."

I crouch down in front of him and scritch him behind the ears. "Sure. I believe you." He scowls and looks away. "Seriously. Thank you, Groofy. Now get somewhere safe."

"OK. You should too. Don't be out on the streets." But he stands and after a hesitant look into the shadows, trots away.

I sigh, square my shoulders, and lift my walkie-talkie. "Chief, this is Kilmarten. I'm almost there. Where do you want me?"

"Meet Bardwell a block down from the suspect's house. He's in his private car so as to not give our presence away. You'll be with him for this operation."

"Copy." I clip the walkie-talkie to my belt and jog over one block onto Oak Street, and then glance around till I see Bardwell's brown Chevy. I open the passenger door and slide inside.

Bardwell is staring with fierce focus at the door to Chase's apartment building. "Kilmarten."

"Evening, Bardwell. Things didn't go so well at the mayor's?"

He scowls, but then his walkie-talkie crackles to life. "All units. We're in position. Bardwell, you're taking the front door. Grange and I will come through the back. Blake, you've got the rooftop. Kilmarten, hang back and watch to make sure he doesn't escape."

"Copy," says Bardwell, and then he turns to look back at me and raise an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You're not going to argue? Complain? Ask for a gun, ask to join us in going inside?"

"Nope." I shake my head slowly. "I'll do whatever the chief asks."

"Huh," says Bardwell. "Maybe you
are
learning. Well, get behind the wheel. Keys are in the ignition. If you see anything, jump on the walkie-talkie, but otherwise keep it quiet. Clear?"

"Sure thing." I feel tired. Normally I'd be begging to go inside, but obviously I know this is an elaborate waste of time. Nobody's upstairs. I'm happy to wait behind the wheel. Bardwell gets out and then runs all hunched over along the pavement to the front door. I slide in behind the wheel and wait, watching. Silence. Bardwell stands motionless, and then on some invisible signal he pushes open the building's front door and enters.

Everything grows still. The few streetlamps emit an orange radiance that makes the street look lonely and surreal. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, not bothering to watch like I'm supposed to. Every time I think of Chase, I feel butterflies flutter through my stomach. Will his plan work? With no hard evidence to find, it very well might. And strangely, I have no doubt about his ability to return the stolen goods. Is he serious about turning over a new leaf? About dedicating his life to an honest career as a librarian? About spending it with me?

My natural insecurities rear their ugly heads. I want to doubt him. To not trust. To convince myself that this is a bad move. Would my father approve of his daughter marrying a thief? Even an ex-thief? I try to imagine showing up in Palm Beach with Chase in tow, and introducing him to my parents. The sun, the sand, the pastel colors, the little umbrellas in fruity drinks. My dad seeing Chase for the first time and sizing him up with that experienced cop-stare of his. Would he know? What would happen next?

I have no idea. I just can't imagine how it will go. But I realize that I desperately want to find out. I want to take Chase to meet my parents. I want to learn about his family. I want to learn all about him, about his mysterious past. I want his plan to succeed like nothing else in the world.

"Kilmarten," says the chief's voice from the walkie-talkie. "His apartment is empty. Did you see anything?"

"Nothing, Chief."

"Blake?"

Rachel's handsome werewolf husband has a deliciously low and growly voice. "Nothing, Chief. All's quiet up here. I'll prowl around a little and see if I can find anything else."

"Dammit. All right, we're coming down."

"Chief?" I feel nervous for the first time. "Did you find anything incriminating in the apartment?"

"No. Not at first glance. We'll come back with a warrant, though, and tear the place apart. Not that there's much to the place."

"Oh." I almost say
good
, but bite down on that word before I can. "Over."

I see the front door open and the officers emerge. I get out of the car and head over just as Blake drops down from the rooftops. He's not nearly as agile as Chase, but he has an angular grace all of his own. Bardwell and Grange are frowning, and the chief is scowling and shaking his head. It's Blake, however, who captures my attention. He's staring at me, eyes narrowed, a look of surprise and consternation on his face. For a moment I don't know why that could be, but then it hits me.

He can smell Chase all over me.

"I found something up top," he says, turning to the chief. "A fresh trail. It looks like our prey escaped a good half hour ago."

I feel ice water run through my veins. If he's picked up Chase's scent, then he's also picked up mine. I stand as still as a statue. What will I say if he confronts me? Why hasn't he said anything yet?

"Half an hour ago? Damn!" The chief is starting to sound furious. "I'm going to catch this thief and make sure he never sees the light of day again. Can you follow his trail?"

Blake hesitates again, glancing at me, and then nods. "Maybe. He's pretty acrobatic. Might take me a little while. Be easier if I brought my pack in to help."

"Well, do so. Grange, follow Blake and his pack in a patrol car. Bardwell, stay here and stake out the place. Our thief might return. Kilmarten, thanks for the help. You're free to go."

Everybody nods, and I realize that Blake's not going to say anything. Why? Why is he holding back? My pulse is racing and my throat is dry. He could blow my cover and ruin everything with just a word. He looks at me with narrowed eyes again, but still doesn't speak. Then his eyes flare wide. Wide with surprise. Wide with concern. Looking past me, over my shoulder.

I turn to see what's scared him so, but I already know what I'm going to see.

Chapter 13

A monster is stalking up the center of the street toward us. It's huge, as large as the cars parked on either side, looking to be all muscle and wiry black fur. Its eyes are a caustic yellow that seem to scald the night air, and its mouth is parted, revealing fangs like shark teeth.

"What the - damn." The chief's voice is a controlled hiss. "Form up, boys. Let's do this by the numbers."

Bardwell shoves me behind him as he steps up so that he stands shoulder to shoulder with the chief and Grange. The three of them draw their sidearms and relax into shooting stances, feet set a little wider than shoulder width, guns held directly out in front of them with straight arms.

The wolf pauses, gazing at us with unnerving intelligence, and tenses, waiting. It's a shifter. It can turn into a human if it wants. But something about the alien, feral gleam in its eyes tell me it never does. That it wants nothing to do with higher thought. With rational thinking. It's a hunter. A monster. It just wants to kill.

"Ready." The chief's voice is surprisingly calm. "Aim. Fire."

The guns fire all at once, a cacophony of noise, but the wolf leaps, springs right up into the air with terrible swiftness. The impossible speed that only shifters can manifest. I stare, wide-eyed, as it seems to melt into the dark sky, and then goes to fall upon us. Only Bardwell has enough presence of mind to lift his gun and fire again, but in that fraction of a moment I know one or two bullets won't stop it.

It's going to fall right on the three cops, and tear them apart.

Or it would have, if a second dire wolf hadn't leaped up to crash into it in midair. Blake's form is rangier than the monster, not quite as bulky, but the alpha manages to stop its attack and the two of them collapse to the street in a writhing, snarling mass of flashing teeth, raking claws, and furious snarls.

The cops stare, helpless, unable to fire into the fight for fear of hitting Blake. I clutch at Bardwell's arm, horrified, watching as Blake fights for his life and ours against a foe that's nearly legendary for its savage ability to kill other shifters.

It hits me: this is what the monster wanted. It doesn't care about us. Us humans. It was after Blake. And now it has him.

They fight, and it's horrendous. They open terrible wounds in each other, but even I can tell Blake's outmatched. He may have heart and courage and the vigor of youth, but he's up against an experienced, grizzled opponent that's been killing for longer than Blake's been alive. The monster is massive, much larger than Blake, and I feel my panic rise as I see it overwhelm the alpha and finally pin him to the ground, jaws wrapped around his throat.

"No!" Grange draws a bead and fires his gun, and I see where the bullet hits the monster in its huge shoulder. It snarls, drops Blake, and barrels into the cops. I barely have enough presence of mind to throw myself aside as it sends the three men flying and tumbling like bowling pins. I land on my forearms, the pain sharp, but quickly raise my head and see the monster returning to where Blake, again in his human form, is forcing himself back to his feet.

The chief groans by my side, dazed. Bardwell lies still. I can't see Grange. I have to do something. Blake is clearly in pain, and can barely stand. The monster seems indifferent to his wounds. But what can I do?

Blake draws himself up and stares disdainfully at the monster. "Scum."

The monster pauses and then speaks, its voice like rocks shifting deep in the earth. "You killed her."

Blake shakes his head. "No. Nobody killed her but you." His voice actually has an edge of pity to it. "You know that. And still you seek your twisted revenge."

"You killed her!" roars the monstrous werewolf, and it crouches to spring. Blake stares at it with disdain, not bothering to run or protect himself.

It's going to kill him. Right here before me. I tear my eyes away and search the ground, spotting the chief's gun. I snatch it up just as the monster roars and leaps. I'm too late - I'm too late!

I turn, expecting to see the worst, but a golden shape drops from the skies like a comet from the heavens, and collides with the monster, knocking it to the ground. Chase! He's in his dire jaguar form, a massive, sinuous beast, great tail whipping the air as it latches onto the monster's back, jaws locked around its neck, all four claws sunk deep into its flesh.

"Chase!" My voice tears through the night, but he pays me no mind. The monster rises to its feet and tries to shake him off, growling horribly, but Chase only clamps on tighter.

I drop the chief's gun. It won't help. Instead I run down to Bardwell's car and pop the trunk, reach in and grab the shotgun I know is kept there. I spring back, pumping a shell into the chamber. I slow as I draw close - the monster gives a terrific shake, and Chase is thrown free, contorting in mid-air to land on his feet. The monster doesn't wait, but throws himself at the massive jaguar, who darts aside with Chase's impossible agility and rakes his claws down the monster's flank.

I can't breathe, I can't think, but I also can't stand idly by. I get closer, the shotgun at my shoulder, waiting for my chance. I'm going to have to get close if I'm not going to hit Chase as well.

The pair of them dance, the wolf always lunging, Chase always barely avoiding each blow and opening new lacerations in the monster's hide. But it seems impervious to pain, and each attack seems to bring it ever closer to catching Chase.

I inch closer, and closer, sweating in fear, hair stuck to my forehead, and then, to my horror, Chase trips. He ducks a claw swipe, leaps aside, but stumbles and falls. The wolf is about to fall on him and tear him apart when a little form comes yipping out of the shadows underneath a car to latch its teeth on the wolf's hind leg.

My eyes go wide. Groofy.

The wolf stops, looks down in disbelief and gives a careless flick of its leg, sending Groofy tumbling away.

It's all the opportunity I need.

I step in close, right up to it, and aim the shotgun at the wolf's head.

It turns to stare at me just as I pull the trigger.

There's an awful explosion of noise and a flare of fire from the muzzle, and then the wolf's head snaps back, and it collapses to the ground.