Otherworldly Bad Boys: Three Complete Novels (16 page)

Hollis sighed. “Fine, Dana. I keep this under wraps. And I think we should do future interviews at the Sullivan Foundation. It just seems safer to me.”

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. He’d gone for it.

“I’m only doing this because I like you,” said Hollis. “Even after you dug your werewolf claws into me.”

“Fine,” said Avery. “So, are you going to go now?”

Hollis looked back and forth between the two of them. “I guess I should find some bandages.” He left the hotel room.

As soon as the door closed, Avery turned on Dana, his eyes flashing. “What the fuck, Gray? What the flying fuck?”

“Brooks, don’t.”

He pointed at the closed door. “Is what you told him the truth? Is this affecting your work or not?”

“It’s not,” she said. “Hollis and I were... getting closer—”

“No, I figured that out,” said Avery. “So, you’re saying that’s all part of this weird thing you’ve got going on with Randall and everything else?”

“I guess so,” she said in a tiny voice. Honestly, she didn’t know what had happened. Not really. Only that whatever Cole had done to her had made it next to impossible to control her wolf. She was going to have to do something about it, but she didn’t know what.

“I suppose you don’t want me to tell King.”

“Not really.”

Avery shook his head. “It better not happen again, Gray. If it does, we both look like idiots.”

She bit her lip. It wouldn’t. She’d find some way to make sure of that.

* * *

Arnold Phelps’ sister was named Jenny. She had white-blonde hair and dark roots. She chain smoked in her kitchen while she talked to them. “My parents moved Arnie and I down here after he got that werewolf bite in high school. He went through the training just fine, and he never seemed to have any issues.”

“So you didn’t have any indication that he’d do what he did?” Avery asked.

Jenny puffed on her cigarette. “Well, hell, who could have expected that? About seven months ago or so, he did start talking more about it, I guess.”

“About what?” said Dana.

“About being a werewolf,” said Jenny. “Before that, we all just pretended like it never happened, Arnie too.”

Seven months ago. That was the same time that Beverly had started to withdraw from her family. Dana looked at Avery to see if he’d caught it.

He had. “What did he say?”

Jenny shrugged. “Nothing much, really. Just stuff about how it made him different that everybody else, I guess.”

That
was
similar. Holy hell, Cole was right. There was a connection here. “So what happened seven months ago?” asked Dana.

“Nothing that I know of,” said Jenny.

“He didn’t do anything out of the ordinary?”

“No,” she said. “One day, he had his old high school yearbook out, and he was talking about how it happened. Kind of funny, I guess, how the night after Arnold turned into a wolf in that bar, something happened in a grocery store up there.”

“What?” said Avery, his eyes narrowing.

“Where did Arnold go to high school?” said Dana.

“Webster High School,” said Jenny. “We knew that other woman who did it too. Beverly Martin? She was Beverly Glass back then, of course. She and Arnold both caught the virus at the same party.”

Dana closed her eyes. What had she been thinking before? That Beverly Martin fit Cole’s profile except for the fact she wasn’t part of a pair? She leaned forward. “Were they the only two survivors of an attack, Beverly and Arnold?”

Jenny nodded, sucking on her cigarette with wide eyes. “That mean something?”

* * *

Dana slammed her hands down on the table in front of Cole. “They fit your profile.”

Cole chuckled. “I love the fact that you call it a ‘profile,’ like I really am a serial killer.” He was in a conference room, manacled and seated. He looked clean and calm, like he’d been expecting her.

She was livid. “You
are
a serial killer. You’re a crazy psycho, and you do it because you like it, no matter what you tell yourself.”

“I do like it,” he said. “You like it too. You can’t help it. It’s your nature.”

Dana glared at him. She didn’t need him saying crap like that to her, especially not after what had happened with Hollis. But he was doing what he did best. Distracting her. She’d come down here to talk to him about one thing, and one thing only. “What do those killings have to do with you?”

“Have I got your attention? Are you sufficiently intrigued? Will you come back to see me again?”

“Answer the question, Cole. What do the killings have to do with you?”

He leaned his head back, clearly enjoying himself. “What could they possibly have to do with me? I’m locked up in here.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “They fit your profile. They’re people you would have killed when you were free. And you knew about the connection. So, it’s got something to do with you.”

“Maybe,” said Cole. “Maybe not. Maybe I’ll tell you more if you promise to visit me more regularly. I get lonely, Dana.”

“I’m not promising you anything,” she said. She shrugged. “Maybe you don’t have anything to do with it at all. Maybe it’s all a coincidence. You saw it before me, and you’re trying to manipulate me with it. Well, I’m done with that. You don’t have any power over me anymore.” She stalked to the door of the conference room and raised her hand to knock.

“Dana?”

She paused, but she didn’t turn around. There was something in his voice, some little change in pitch or tone that woke something in her. The wolf. It stretched, pricking up its ears. It liked Cole. A lot.

“Don’t leave yet.”

And that seemed to undo her completely, because all his smugness was stripped away. His voice was raw, even vulnerable. She turned around. “Tell me what I want to know.”

He was standing behind the table, his hands shackled in front of him, his feet shackled to the table. He lifted both his hands to her. “Come back here.”

She was moving before she knew it, crossing the room to him. And she didn’t stop on the other side of the table. She went around it, so that she was standing next to him, so that there were mere inches between their bodies. “Fuck you,” she muttered. She wasn’t sure why she was doing this. Why he could do this to her.

He cupped her face with his palms. “I’d do anything I could to see you. Do you understand that?”

She shut her eyes.

“Don’t you want to see me?”

“I...” She put one her hands over his, gripping it. “Cole, you’re a killer, and you hurt me, and I don’t feel anything towards you.”

“Yes, you do,” he said, bringing his face closer to hers. “And I do too. I don’t want it either. What I feel about you has destroyed all my plans. You ruined everything, Dana.”

She was gazing into his eyes now. They were so dark. They seemed to call to her, some kind of strange primal urge passing between the two of them. She could feel it. They were tied together with something stronger than the metal that had made up her chains or the shackles he wore now. She sighed, her eyes fluttering closed.

And then his lips were on hers, warm and insistent.

She kissed him back, pressing her body tight against his.

He groaned. “Dana,” he whispered into her mouth.

She gasped. And, with effort, she pulled away. “How are you involved in the killings, Cole?”

“Come see me again,” he said. “I’ll tell you more if you come back.”

* * *

Dana’s feet pounded against the ground. She was making her fourth circuit inside the fences of headquarters—not just jogging, really running. She urged herself to go faster, to push herself harder. Maybe if she got running fast enough, she’d be able to chase the thoughts from her brain.

It wasn’t working. Earlier that day, she’d been to see her psychiatrist, Chantal. She’d recounted the whole sordid story of the last few days. Nearly biting Hollis, kissing Cole, all of it. It had never occurred to her to keep things from Chantal, because she thought she needed to be honest with the woman who was trying to help her.

But she’d seen something in Chantal’s eyes that had made her feel like she should have kept some of it to herself. Chantal was good at her job, and the look she’d given Dana had only flitted across her expression for half a second before the woman had herself together again. But that brief time was long enough for Dana to have seen it. And long enough for her to have regretted saying anything.

Chantal had been vague, saying that she might want to do some subtle adjusting to Dana’s treatment. Nothing to worry about, of course. She’d have it ready in time for their next session. In the meantime, Chantal didn’t think it was a good idea after all for Dana to see Cole.

No Cole.

Well, that was fine. Dana didn’t want to see him anyway. She wanted him out of her life. She’d be happy enough if she never thought of him again.

But she did think of him. She thought of him almost constantly.

She saw the sense in Chantal’s recommendation. If she was kissing Cole, then she wasn’t learning to assert her power over him. She wasn’t getting better. She was simply allowing him to continue to tell her what to do.

Dana could see that wasn’t progress.

But he knew something about the case, dammit. He knew something. And certainly that had to be important, even if it wasn’t exactly healthy for Dana to see him.

She lifted her knees, stretched her legs farther. She’d keep running until she was too exhausted to see Cole, because that was all she wanted right now. She told herself it was because of the case, but she knew it was more complicated than that. His lips...

“Gray!”

The voice was behind her.

Dana slowed her pace, turning. It was Ursula. Dana slowed to a walk and let Ursula catch up.

“Sorry to interrupt your workout,” said Ursula.

“Not a problem,” Dana wheezed, her breath uneven.

“Your shrink sent me a message, said it was urgent. I looked at it, and I got confused.”

Dana breathed and walked. She couldn’t quite manage a response.

“She says that I’m not to let you see Randall after all. You have any idea why that might be?”

“She didn’t tell you why?”

“No.”

Dana made a show of trying to catch her breath, really trying to buy time while she considered her response. She knew she couldn’t tell Ursula the truth. It was too embarrassing. That meant she had to make up a lie, or she had to play dumb. “I’m as clueless as you are, King. She told me the same thing yesterday, but she didn’t tell me why. She said she’s adjusting my treatment.”

Ursula sighed. “How do you feel about it?”

“Well, Randall knows something. I think he’ll tell me about it eventually.”

Ursula nodded. “That’s true. But, you know, maybe we shouldn’t play games with him. If he knows something, fine. That doesn’t mean we cater to his every whim. He obviously wants to see you. Maybe cutting you off from him is exactly what we need to do. Show him he’s not in charge.”

Dana’s heart sank. She’d been hoping that Ursula would veto the Chantal’s advice. She did want to see Cole again. But she nodded. “That’s a good idea, King. I think you’re right.”

“I do too,” said Ursula. “As a matter of fact, I think I’m going to go see him right now and tell him the bad news. You’re off limits. We’ll see how he handles that.”

Dana watched Ursula tramp back up to headquarters. When she was far in the distance, Dana started running again.

No Cole. No Cole.

It was official now. It wasn’t just a suggestion from Chantal for her health, it was part of Ursula’s strategy to try to get Cole to cooperate. So there was no way Dana could see him now. No way at all. Cole Randall was completely off-limits.

She shouldn’t have told Chantal, should she? If she’d only kept it a secret, she’d be able to see him right now.

But that was disgusting, wasn’t it? She shouldn’t
want
to see Cole, even if he could help the case. She should want to be rid of him. She
did
want to be rid of him.

Sort of.

At least part of her did.

Part of her wanted to be with him right now. Part of her wished she was close to him, that his soft voice was whispering to her, that his hands were on her, that his lips... Oh God. His lips...

She ran until her muscles screamed at her. But she never outran her desire to see him, no matter how hard she tried.

* * *

“Basically, he didn’t tell you anything,” said Avery. He was sitting on the couch in his apartment. Despite the fact his living room faced the opposite direction of Dana’s, everything was practically identical to her apartment. Neither of them had spent much time on decoration. They both had standard-issue SF apartments.

Dana doodled on the notebook she was holding against her knees. She sat opposite Avery, in one of his chairs. The idea had been to brainstorm together, but they weren’t getting very far. “He really didn’t. He only wanted me to come back to see him.”