Illicit (16 page)

Wrinkles lined his gray sweat pants and black tee. His thick brown coat wasn’t buttoned and his hair stuck out in several different directions. He’d just rolled from bed.

“Would you believe me if I told you Peter wanted me to have sex on your desk to prove my loyalty to him?” she asked.

Grady hiked an eyebrow, looked back and forth between them. Instead of panicking like her, Peter had lounged back in the chair and kicked his dirty boots up on the desk.

“If I’d caught you two naked, maybe.” Grady pointed at Peter. “He seems like enough of asshole to do something like that. And, get your fucking boots off my desk.” Grady reached behind him, drawing a gun from the back waistband of his pants. Two handed, he held the butt and leveled the barrel. “You might also want to set the file down and put your hands in the air.”

Her arms rose automatically, while beside her, Peter looked at the weapon with bored disinterest. He could cross the room in a second if he’d wanted; she didn’t have that luxury.

“Put your hands down, Eva. He isn’t going to shoot us.”

Peter had a point. Grady wasn’t a killer. Slowly, her hands fell to her sides in the same moment the cop dropped his gun on a sigh.

“What the hell, Eva?” Grady asked. “You better start explaining before I throw your ass in jail.”

“I didn’t think you’d given me the complete file on Greg’s case. I wanted to see the original for myself.”

Emotion filled his eyes, and the depth of it looked almost as painful as his swollen nose and black eye. “You thought I killed him, didn’t you?” He looked to Peter. “That’s what earlier was about, you wanting to rip off my head.”

“You punched Eva in the face,” Peter growled. “That was enough; the fact I thought you murdered my father, and then Becca, was a bonus.”

Grady drew a hand down his face. “I was out of town when Greg was murdered. My dad alerted me when I was on my way from the airport. You think he’d let me investigate the case unless I had an alibi? I would have been the prime suspect in Greg’s case.”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “We, ah, found your boarding pass. So yes, we know you didn’t do it.”

“I can’t believe you’d think I was capable of murder. In all the years we dated, did I ever display any violent tendencies? I didn’t mean to hit you the other night, Eva, you know that.” Grady stepped close.

Peter rose to his feet in one fluid movement. His bulk filled the tiny room as if the space around them had shrunk. He made a noise in the back of his throat, a warning that stopped the detective mid step.

“I know, Grady, I’m sorry. But,” she hesitated, tried to figure out a way to tell him about his scent at the hunting cabin without giving away the Pard’s secret. Looking at Peter, she touched her nose, hoped he’d get the hint.

He took over the conversation, the hostility in his voice matching the venom lingering in his eyes. “Have you ever been out to Greg’s hunting cabin in the south bend of the forest, near the lake?”

Grady’s gaze cut to her. “Not any time recently.”

She and Peter exchanged a glance. Someone had purposefully made it seem like Grady had been there. Someone who knew Peter would be looking for a scent. Someone in the Pard.

“Why?” Grady asked, not missing their exchange. “What do you two know?”

“We’re leaving,” Peter said, grabbing her arm and pulling her forward.

Grady frowned, stepped in front of the door. “I can have you both arrested for breaking and entering, and if you’re withholding evidence—”

“You won’t do shit,” Peter said confidently.

Arms crossed over his chest, Grady narrowed his eyes. “And what makes you so sure?”

“Because you’re in love with Eva.”

“So are you,” Grady shot right back.

Her heart raced, the sudden acceleration heating her from the inside out. The thud, thud, thud stopped and the sweat on her skin chilled. She looked at Peter, but he didn’t meet her gaze, didn’t move a single muscle. Silent, he stared at Grady until the other man shifted, blinked, and then looked away.

“Get out of here, the both of you, before I come to my senses.”

She went straight for the door, didn’t need to be told twice, didn’t need Peter’s hand on her arm to pull her out of the testosterone-filled room. Outside of the police station in the cold wintery night, she turned to Grady one last time. “How’d you know we were inside?”

“Anonymous tip. Someone called my house, told me I needed to get to the station.”

A frown shaped Peter’s brows. “Did you recognize the voice?”

“Nah, but I requested a trace on the line. Sometimes I get results back in a few hours, sometimes a few days. Depends on how lazy the phone company is.”

She waved good-bye, and her and Peter walked back to the bar toward his truck.

“You think someone saw us breaking in?” she asked, shoving her hands into her pockets.

Peter stopped at the driver side door, looked at her over the top of the cab. “Whoever killed Greg and Becca is watching you, saw us go into the building and called Grady.”

“It’s someone in the Pard, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Peter looked up one side of the deserted street, then the other. “Get in.”

“About what Grady said…”

The muscles in his cheeks flexed. “Drop it, Eva.”

She shook her head, hated the kernel of hope simmering inside of her. Peter felt something for her. She wasn’t wrong, hadn’t misread him when he’d made love to her, when he’d laced their fingers together and looked at her as if she was his one and only.

The hesitation lasted only seconds. “So we’re just going to ignore what’s between us?”

“There is no us,” he said, his voice harsh and unyielding. “Now get in the fucking truck.”

The drive back home was no more pleasant then the ride to the police station had been. She wasn’t surprised when they pulled in front of her house and Peter slammed the truck into park, then shoved open his door.

“You aren’t coming inside, if that’s what you’re planning,” she said.

Already angry, she got more upset when he ignored her, got out of the truck and walked the perimeter as if he lived there. He tilted his head back, sniffing the air, a gesture that would have looked arrogant to anyone else. She knew better. Her heart warmed at the realization he was protecting her. When he changed courses, heading for the front door, she scrambled out of the cab after him.

“You can go now,” she said, brushing past him, keys already in her hand.

He leaned into her, his height an imposing force that would have made most people shrink in on themselves. “Not until I’ve checked the inside as well, or have you forgotten almost every member of the Pard has a key?”

She pressed a hand against his chest, tried to shove him back. He barely budged. “I can take care of myself. There is no us, as you put it, so stop trying to protect me. Either you care or you don’t. You don’t get it both ways.”

“Wrong. I can have it any way I want it.” He ripped the keys from her hand, and pushed open the front door.

Storming inside, he didn’t bother to kick the snow off his boots. He made quick work of scanning the house for any apparent danger, disappearing upstairs, returning before she could blink. She didn’t dare close the door behind, didn’t follow after him.

He stopped in front of her, looked down. She didn’t miss the restless hunger in his eyes, or the way his gaze dipped to her mouth. Her insides heated.

“You should come with a warning,” he growled, his words vague and unfocused. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped away. “Lock up when I leave. I’ll be in the woods out back, don’t go anywhere without me.”

Not bothering to wait for her confirmation, he left the house the same way he’d come inside. She shoved the front door closed behind him, engaged the lock. Ripping off the beanie and her coat, she let out a soft breath. Alone. She toed off her boots, bent to remove her wool socks and made her way toward the kitchen. She needed to eat, to sleep.

She needed to stop thinking about Peter.

She opened the fridge. Cool air bathed her flushed cheeks. She reached inside, hand closing around the milk when the gust of frigid air ruffled the hair at her neck. The sensation came from behind her, as if someone had just opened the back door. Peter. He’d changed his mind. Her heart sped stupidly. She spun to face him, her smirk fading at the approaching figure.

Not Peter. The unexpectedness of the man in her kitchen had her jumping back, slamming the refrigerator door shut with her ass.

“God, James!” She pressed a hand over her racing heart, laughed. “You scared the crap out of me.”

The stoic expression on his face didn’t waver. She glanced from the tight line of his lips to the hand he used to shut the back door. The lock snicked into place, the sound very loud in the nearly empty house.

“I’m sorry, Eva,” he said, took a menacing step forward.

Swallowing, thinking she was being ridiculous, she fought her mounting panic. This was James, her uncle, a man who’d cared for her for as long as she could remember. She forced her shoulders to relax. “Is everything okay?”

“No, Eva, nothing is okay.” There was something in his voice, low and dangerous.

Her tongue swiped over her lower lip, her only solution to appease the tight, chapped sensation. “How’d you get in here?” she asked.

“Never you mind that.” He crossed the room, forcing her to press back against the steel fridge.

She was being ridiculous. Frazzled nerves were her only explanation for the vehemence radiating off the man in front of her. In the blink of an eye, James was no longer the good old uncle she’d grown up with. He stopped a few inches before her, his bulk a large shadow looming over her, bathing her in darkness. Instincts screamed at her to run.

“James?” she croaked, barely able to speak past the dry knot lodged in her throat. Subtly, she scooted to the left, her goal the open archway of the living room behind her.

He sidestepped with her, a shadow she couldn’t outmaneuver.

“Things would have gone to plan if he hadn’t showed up. He’s ruined everything and he’ll pay for it.”

“He?” She glanced at the closed door leading out to the forest, leading to where Peter stalked through the darkness. Peter.

“He stole you from me, just like my brother stole Jenny all those years ago.” Every word he spoke was a hot wash of breath against her face. Whiskey soured the air, clenched her gut. His face twisted with rage, the bracketing lines around his eyes and mouth now monstrous. “I’m not some weak submissive to bend at the Alpha’s will. I’ll be damned if Peter waltzes into town and takes everything I’ve earned. This Pard is mine. You’re mine.”

Before she could process what his words meant, he flew at her. Instinct shoved her leg out. A poorly aimed boot glanced off his upper thigh, inches from where she’d meant to kick him. On a harsh growl, he speared his fingers through her hair and wrenched her against his hard body. Pain pricked her scalp, a sensation spurring her to fight even harder.

He tumbled her toward the ground. The heavy weight of his body pinned her in place and made it impossible to punch him.

“Stop struggling.” His words were a low, fierce whisper.

Lifting a knee between them, she found his groin and shoved. His howl pierced the air. The second noise was her head thudding against the floor. Once, twice, he repeated the motion until her struggles weakened. Stars danced in front of her eyes. When she would have screamed, he pressed his forearm against her throat, cut off her air.

Energy surged through her, giving her strength to score her nails across his face. Blood welled, dripped in hot splatters against her cheeks. Nothing deterred her attacker, her betrayer.

James had killed her father. Killed Becca for some reason she still hadn’t been able to figure out. As her vision faded to black and her limbs fell useless to her sides, her uncle leaned down and pressed his mouth softly against hers.

“There, there now. Such a good girl. You’ll be mine, sweet Angel. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

Peter stalked through the darkness, his thoughts a collision of anger, lust and possession. The man wanted to leave. The leopard demanded to stay.

Mate
, the feline insisted, tried to force him in the direction of the house.

He shook his head and struggled forward. “We aren’t staying.”

Rumbling agitation tickled the back of his throat, manifested into a vibrating noise that had the wildlife around him freezing in its place. He looked back through the gaps in the trees, at Eva’s house, now only a shadow in the distance.

A shiver rippled through him, the result of fur pressing against skin from the inside. Whether he wanted to or not, he was moments from shifting. He would fight it as long as he could.

Go back
, the feline snarled.

No.

Didn’t the stupid cat know the longer he stayed around Eva, the more infectious she became? Desires he’d never dreamed of crept into his forethought. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sudden longings. He’d never warmed to the idea of love or children. Until Eva he’d never even fucked without a condom. Then again, until Eva, he’d never come close to an emotional attachment.

He needed to be far away from her. As Alpha, he’d see that she was protected, but he wouldn’t get near her again. Not after making love to her. Not after he’d so thoroughly ripped out her heart. The pain in her eyes twisted like a knife in his gut. He had no idea what he regretted more—fucking her or leaving her.

He needed to focus, to narrow down his list of suspects so he could get the hell out of this shit hole town. Grady, however much a douche he might be, wasn’t a murderer. The killer had to be close. Peter took in his surroundings, let the rich scents of the forest soothed his agitation. He’d been stalking through the woods for over twenty minutes, warring with himself over his decisions.

Everything circled back to one single thought. He shouldn’t have left her. The fact he’d checked every room, and analyzed the stray smells in and around the house, was only a small comfort. Despite her claim she could defend herself, she was still fragile. Unease rippled through him.

The same instincts that had driven him to leave Montana and return home now urged him to turn around and find Eva. He forced himself forward, stepping over fallen branches. Searching for anything out of the ordinary, he made another sweep of the perimeter.

He tested the air. The hair at his nape prickled with the scent of leopard. David and James. He’d ordered David to watch her, his presence made sense. But why James? Had the older man been checking on Eva since Greg’s death, trying to keep her safe? The scent was strong, fresh. His feline took notice, eased its relentless insistence on returning to the house.

Kicking off boots and jeans, he pulled his sweater over his head. The shift was seamless. On all fours, he shook his head and huffed, twin streams of air passing from his nostrils. Smells came at him, stronger in this form. He followed the older feline’s scent, nose pressed to the cold, snowy ground. Stopping, he looked up at the familiar 4x4 parked at the access road. His tail twitched.

Closer. He crossed an icy creek, easily navigating a path up a steep embankment. Paws sank into snow as he circled the vehicle, sniffing for any signs James remained close by. A stack of neatly folded clothes lay on the seat, a man preparing for something. It was obvious he’d undressed slowly and carefully before his shift. Peter narrowed his eyes and looked back on the path he’d taken to get to this point, pictured the scent trail.

A straight shot to Eva’s house.

If the old man’s destination was Eva’s, then why park so far away? Why... His body stiffened. Thought trailed off and everything clicked into place. The son of a bitch had parked in the woods so he wouldn’t be seen, knowing Peter would check the perimeter before leaving. Knowing sooner or later Peter would leave. James, sturdy and caring, a figure in the background, had been present through it all. He’d been at the crime scene when Eva found Greg’s body, before the cops had shown up. Wouldn’t have been hard to cover up any tracks.

James had also been in Eva’s house, alone. Surely, the old man knew about Greg’s habit of writing in his journal. Had James written SF in the book and hoped he and Eva would check it out? Perhaps if they hadn’t come up with it themselves, his uncle would have suggested it to them? Fuck. He had led them right where he wanted them, to the hunting cabin, to Grady’s planted scent.

How many times had Eva mentioned that James needed to see her? For days he’d tried to get her alone.

Fury uncurled inside him, hazed his surroundings in shades of red. Massive paws ate the distance through the forest as he ducked and dodged low-lying branches. Still, it wasn’t quick enough. Every minute that passed could be Eva’s last. Twenty minutes already wasted because he’d been pussy-footing in the woods. James had called Grady, had known exactly where he and Eva would be. Had his uncle banked on Grady arresting him and letting Eva go, unprotected?

Fuck.

The house came into view. The sprawling structure was quiet and dark. Ominous. He threw his massive body against the back door, wood splintering upon impact. Paws skidded on wooden floors. The heady odor of Eva’s fear hit him, closely followed by the stench of blood and then of James.

He shifted mid sprint, human feet flying up the stairs three at a time. He burst through her closed bedroom door, tried to prepare himself for what he might find. His heart stopped. In the center of the neatly made bed was a piece of white folded paper. Pain ripped through his chest, forced a ferocious scream from his throat. Rage exploded with every step closer to the bed.

He snatched the note from on top of the coverlet, James’ scent rich on the fibers. “If you want her, come and get her. SF.”

In his balled fist, paper crinkled. Instinct took hold, the feral part of him unleashing with a force he’d seen only once before. Thirty years ago when his father had ripped into the hunter who’d killed his mother. Claws tore from Peter’s fingers, fur ripped through skin. Bones popped. Unlike any shift before, the man didn’t go into the background of his subconscious. Leopard and human merged into a lethal combination of raw power. Darkness invaded, tarnishing his soul with stains that wouldn’t come clean.

Needing an outlet, he raked claws through silk sheets, shredding deep grooves into the thick mattress beneath. Still it wasn’t enough. He picked up the ruined bed, hurled it across the room. Books spilled from shelves, trinkets fell to the ground, shattered. Panting, hot air streamed from his nose. One thought circled. When he was through with James, the man wouldn’t have an inch of flesh left on his body.

Nothing would ever be the same after tonight. Eva was his mate.
His
. If he lost her, he’d lose a part of himself. Until now, he hadn’t understood the depth of his father’s hatred and anger. The well ran deep with boiling fury. Fists clenching, he snarled, the sound not doing justice to the mindless need for vengeance ripping at him. As Greg had torn into the hunter’s flesh, Peter would do the same to James. Turning from the bedroom, he raced down the stairs and barreled out the front door. James had no concept of the beast he’d just unleashed. He threw himself forward, paws barely touching the ground as he disappeared into the forest.

He wouldn’t lose Eva the same way his father had lost his mother.

* * * * *

Eva came awake slowly, the radiating pain at the back of her skull second to the churning in her stomach. Her world teetered down, up, down, up, as if she were drifting over something bumpy. She moaned, wished the jostling would stop, wished she could curl into a ball to help ease the sickness. Saliva pooled in her mouth, forcing her to either swallow or heave.

“We’re almost there, Eva girl, don’t you worry.”

The blood in her veins froze, chilling her to the core. James. The spinning of her head came to an abrupt stop at her last memory. Her uncle knocking her to the floor, slamming her skull against the hard ground, pressing his arm against her throat until spots danced across the harsh lines of his face.

He’d killed Greg and Becca.

She opened her eyes, found herself cradled against the hard wall of his chest. He stroked a rough hand through her hair, his callused palm snagging in her curls. It was the same way he’d comforted her after she’d discovered Greg’s dead body. The body he’d left for her. Vomit curdled in her stomach.

The stinging cold ripped through her thin cotton shirt, and her surroundings came into focus. She was outside. Trees. Snow. A clearing. A familiar single-story log and stone structure.

The hunting cabin.

How long had she been passed out? Heavy boot steps clomped up bowed wooden steps, echoing over the creaking porch. Panic cleared the lingering fog in her brain. She struggled. Tried to but she couldn’t move. What had he done to her?

“Wha...” she croaked, found the act of speech required something she no longer possessed.

“Don’t try and talk,” James cooed, holding her tighter. “I gave you a sedative I got from the clinic to help you relax. I’ll take care of you Eva, I promise, but don’t make me hurt you again. I don’t like to see you in pain.”

“Why are you doing this?” she managed.

Hot tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, the only warmth against her numbed skin.

One handed, James pulled open the heavy door to the cabin she’d spent her summers in. Hinges creaked, a sound that would never again bring comfort. Dark and cold, the air inside tasted musky. The living room came and went, the forest-green couch she passed conjuring mocking memories. She recalled when she’d been twelve and had sprained her ankle. Much like he carried her now, James had set her down on the sofa, carefully removed her shoes and socks.

All hope his intentions were innocent vanished when James brought her into the bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind him, a heavy sound that pounded her ears.

Something thudded to the bedroom floor, a duffel bag, she saw when James set her in the middle of the bed. Paralyzed, she could do nothing but watch him step back and look down at her as if she were his entire world. Under his affection, a perverse desire lurked.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked again, her words clearer this time.

His hands rose to the first button on his thick flannel shirt. Cotton parted. Another button. A glimpse of white hair and a pale chest. He was wearing Greg’s clothes, the ones stashed behind the house. Had he been lying in wait for Peter to leave her alone? Her stomach clenched.

“Peter ruined everything.” His jaw clenched, sending a ripple of energy through the room. Another button. “I was forced into action.”

“How?” If only she could keep him talking.

“Greg stole Jenny from me, did you know that? She was mine. Was going to marry me. When our father died and Greg took control of the Pard... Well, I found out Jenny wasn’t as pure as she claimed. She was pregnant.”

“With Peter,” she guessed.

Her finger twitched. The first spasms of life gave her a surge of hope. She concentrated on her hand, forced it to move again.

James pulled the two halves of his open shirt apart, unthreading his arms through the sleeves, slowly undressing.

The flannel dropped to the floor, a loud sound in the silence.

“They were together behind my back for months,” James said. “In this cabin, actually. This very bed. They betrayed me.”

A wave of dizziness rolled over her. She gulped, nearly choking on her next words. “Is that why you shot Greg, here, in the woods? Because he betrayed you?”

James shook his head, unfolded a leather belt from its metal buckle. Ice filled his eyes, turned the man she thought she knew so well into a stranger. “No.”

“Why then?” She swallowed again, tiny stabs of tingling pain racing up her legs. The pain had never felt so good. A few more minutes was all she needed.

“He wouldn’t let me have you. So I killed him,” he said simply. His zipper rasped, denim parted.

“Have me...?”

“I petitioned to have you as my mate.” Stepping close to the bed, he kneeled on the mattress. He cupped her cheek and she forced herself not to move. “I can provide for you, Eva. Take care of you the way a man is supposed to take care of a woman.” The tender grip changed, tightened. “But Greg wouldn’t even consider it. He didn’t even want to give you to Mark. He wanted to keep you to himself. Last week he’d changed his mind. He decided Mark wasn’t strong enough to protect you. He planned to call Peter home,” his lips curled into a sneer, “for ‘his son to take his rightful place among the leopards.’”

Her mouth would have dropped open if James hadn’t pressed his palm against her lips. She struggled for breath, to fight the rising panic. He reached beside him, lifted a thickly braided strand of rope.

Oh god.

“I couldn’t let some stranger have you. You see, I was a broken man after Jenny. I hated him with my entire heart, couldn’t stand to look at my brother, or to take orders from him, but I had no choice. You obeyed or you got your throat ripped out. And then, you came into our lives and changed everything. You gave me strength, Eva. I waited for the right moment, waited until I could have everything I’d ever wanted. The Pard. A family. A child of my own.”