Pack Justice (Nature of the Beast Book 1) (33 page)

My wolf wanted to bite the man in the face in retaliation. At my side, Andrea stiffened, and not even the rain and other scents could mask her dismay at the reporter’s question.

I showed off my best courtroom smile and turned to the reporter. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

Something about asking a reporter their name on television disconcerted them; his eyes widened before he caught himself and smoothed his expression. “I’m Lane Gardia of—”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Gardia,” I interrupted, keeping my smile in place while holding out my hand to shake with him. His grip was firm, and I was aware of the way he trembled, although I couldn’t tell if I made him nervous or if he was cold from the rain.

I hoped it was a bit of both.

The years of forcing myself to smile at the right moments during a trial served me well; I wanted to lash into the reporter for bothering Andrea. “It seems you have been rather alarmingly misinformed about my professional relationship with Miss Morgan. She’s an attorney of rare intellect, which makes her a challenge to face in court. Were you unaware of professional rivalries? I would think you, as a reporter, would be familiar with the concept. Unless, of course, you consider contemplating the murder of your fellow journalists acceptable professional behavior?”

Any other day, I would have settled with a ‘no comment’ and left the reporter to stew, but there was something satisfying about initiating a verbal challenge with the man. Lane Gardia’s eyes bulged, and he spluttered.

Andrea’s eyes likewise widened, and she clapped her hands over her mouth.

“If you have a more professional question for me, Mr. Gardia, by all means, do ask. If you don’t, I need to have a discussion with the police about the matter of my property.”

The cameraman made frantic gestures at the reporter, who mumbled a few words I couldn’t understand before making a hasty retreat. I glanced in the direction of the camera; it was still recording.

It took every bit of my restraint to keep my hands to myself instead of grabbing Andrea, yanking her to me, and making it perfectly clear for those watching what I thought of her. Quivering from the effort, I closed the distance to Captain Ramirez, and I was aware of her nose flaring so she could breathe in my scent.

I wondered if she could detect my mood in the rain with the haze of smoke hanging in the air. Was my fury as potent to her as it was to me? Did stress have a scent?

I wanted to erupt, turn on the reporter, and rip him to shreds.

“This way, Mr. Scott,” Captain Ramirez ordered, taking hold of my elbow in a firm grip. “Miss Morgan, if you would please come as well? I have some questions for you.”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Andrea stammered, and after a final glance at the reporter, she followed us.

Whatever had destroyed my house had flung debris halfway down the block, and the men and women gathering evidence from the scene stopped and stared at me while I gaped at the smoking debris that had once been my life.

Ramirez hadn’t been kidding. I had no doubt what would have happened to me if I hadn’t made the impulsive decision to sell my home and buy a new one. Some of the foundation remained intact, as did larger chunks of wall and roof. The few things that hadn’t been blasted to bits had been charred black.

My legs shook, and my breaths came in rapid, shallow bursts. My intention to sell my home had been a deliberate decision to cut away that part of my life.

Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to destroy everything and leave the ruins scattered around my yard and a sizable chunk of the neighborhood. The risk of someone coming after me and my family because of my work had always been in the back of my mind, but seeing the evidence of it strewn across the grass and street stole my breath.

I didn’t care if they targeted Idette; I’d likely thank them if they got to her. The thought of someone discovering Andrea, however, frightened me even more than the realization I had dodged death thanks to an impulse.

“Jesus Christ.” I had doubts even my safes had survived the destruction. “What the hell happened?”

“We’ll talk about it at the station, Mr. Scott,” Ramirez replied, gesturing to one of the nearby cruisers. “Officer Albano, please escort Mr. Weston to his vehicle and make certain he reaches the station for questioning.”

Dan and Marcello came at Ramirez’s call. Both of them stared at me for a long moment before turning their attention to Kevin, who snapped a salute in my direction and said, “I’ll see you at the station, Sean.”

I should have said something—anything—but my tongue froze in my mouth and my mind went blank. It wasn’t until Captain Ramirez gave my elbow a gentle but firm tug I realized I was supposed to be heading for the cruiser waiting on the street.

I made it to the car, but by the time I slid onto the back seat, I was shaking so much I fumbled with the seatbelt. Andrea twisted around to glance in the direction of the barricade, growled softly, and reached over me to take the buckle out of my hand.

Ramirez turned in the driver’s seat, and her eyes were bright gold. “Did you forget you were supposed to tell us if you were going out, Sean?”

I was aware I needed to say something, but my voice failed me. Andrea pressed the tips of her fingers to my cheek, and I closed my eyes at the warmth of her touch. A shudder ran through me. Her touch remained light and gentle as she worked her way to my throat. I heard the passenger front door open and close, and moments later, the cruiser rumbled to life.

“Do I need to call for an EMT to meet us at the station, Andrea?”

“Give me a minute.” Andrea pressed harder against my neck, and I relaxed into her touch. The feel of her skin on mine was all it took to soothe my wolf and make my cheetah purr, and I was as much willing prey to her as they. “Thank god, Sean. I was terrified you were in there.”

Until I knew who else was in the car, I didn’t dare purr, but I gathered my wits enough to mumble, “Sorry. Got caught up in things. What happened?”

“Our best guess is they accessed your property when the patrols shifted,” Ramirez reported, and I heard her sigh. “If they knew what they were doing, it probably didn’t take them more than twenty minutes to set up the explosives. Forensics will be a while figuring out what happened and setting up a timetable. The rain isn’t helping.”

Andrea echoed Ramirez’s sigh. “You all right, Sean?”

“I got attacked by a house.”

“You
what
?” Andrea blurted, and her hand tensed on my throat. “A house did not attack you.”

“It did. Hit me on the head and everything.” I lifted my hand to my hair and ran my fingers through it, grimacing as I found a mat. “Ah, shit. It bled.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Andrea’s hand lifted away from my throat, and several moments later, she pressed close to me while she poked and prodded at the top of my head.

I enjoyed every moment her warm body pressed close to mine. “Went to look at a property for sale with Kevin, and the roof collapsed from the rain. I was standing beneath it when it happened. A chunk of rotten wood, plaster, and who knows what else clocked me right on the top of the head.”

A weak laugh worked its way out of Andrea’s throat, and I cracked open an eye to glance at her. Her eyes were watery, and when she caught me watching her, she pressed her nose against my neck. A shiver went through me, and I braced myself for what my next words would inevitably trigger. “I’ve earned the bad bite. Be gentle.”

She clamped her teeth onto my throat and growled at me. Pain stabbed down my spine and I yowled but forced myself to sit still.

“That… wasn’t gentle.”

“You earned it,” Ramirez hissed.

The pressure of Andrea’s teeth eased, and the tip of her tongue teased my skin, soothing the sting of her bite. “You did.”

“I’m sorry. Oh. Kevin thinks I should be begging you to marry me, Andrea. I hear you flayed a reporter on my behalf on live television. I want to see the recording. Since it would be a little awkward if I opened with an engagement ring and a proposal, I thought I’d thank you and invite you for coffee first. What do you think?”

I recognized Alice’s snorted laughter from the front passenger seat. “I think he’s fine, Captain.”

Andrea laughed, and her breath tickled my neck. “I’ve seen pictures of you buying the shit you believe is coffee, Mr. Scott. You’ll have to do better than shit coffee. Maybe I like this Kevin’s idea. A ring would mean everyone knows you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“You’d have to buy me a ring, too, for that to work, Miss Morgan.”

“Your house blew up. Move in with me?”

I gasped, my eyes widening as I thought about her question. Both of my spirit beasts had opinions on the matter, and my wolf really liked the thought of denning with Andrea. My cheetah merely purred.

“And you broke him. Good job, Andrea.”

Ramirez cleared her throat. “Okay, peanut gallery. Behave yourselves. Get back to your side of the cruiser, Miss Morgan. Until we find out what is going on, I think it would be wise to encourage the belief you two are professional rivals and nothing more. Mr. Scott, I trust you’re aware of the formalities.”

“I have a signed contract stating I was intending to sell my house, dated yesterday—and there were witnesses at the restaurant who can vouch I was with Mr. Weston. Unfortunately, my copy was in my house. I spent all morning house hunting. Why, exactly, would I want to blow up my house? Hey, do you think a fireproof safe or three could have survived the explosion?”

“I’ll tell the forensics people to look out for them.” Alice pulled out her phone and dialed a number. On the second ring, I heard Marcello answer. “Ask the crew going through the debris to look for three fireproof safes. They may have evidence inside.”

Ramirez sighed. “Andrea, if you break down, you will do so in my office where no one can see you. Sean, you can break down wherever the fuck you want, just don’t do it on Andrea’s shoulder. You two might be a mated pair, but we don’t want people knowing that. Get your game faces on. If you want to flirt, do so via scowling and posturing. You’ve only had a decade of practice at it. Don’t screw this up. Let’s not make Andrea a target, too.”

I clenched my teeth at the thought of Andrea becoming a victim because of me. “Over my dead body.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of, Sean,” Captain Ramirez replied.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Sometime after the explosion but before we arrived at the station, whoever had targeted me and my home had sent a video to the cops, along with a bunch of pictures of the night before. One showed me arriving at my house after dinner with Kevin.

The final picture showed my house moments before the detonation, including my car still in the driveway and the house lights on as I had left them. To all appearances, it looked like I had been home.

I hadn’t lingered when Kevin had picked me up in the early morning; it would have been easy for someone to miss the short time he was in my driveway.

The station’s conference room wasn’t large enough for the massive task ahead of me. Evidence littered the table, and I wasn’t the only one wearing gloves to keep my fingerprints off things as we searched through old papers, mail Marcello and Dan had gathered from my box while I had been missing, and an assortment of packages and items sent to my office address.

Hundreds upon hundreds of items waited, and the police needed me to confirm what I knew about each and every one of them. I slipped into a numb daze at the pieces of my life flowing by me. The bills, I learned, had been covered by the pack anonymously, which in turn had been funded by the Inquisition.

I still had questions about who—or what—the Inquisition actually was, but I’d have to wait until I escaped the police station and cornered Andrea or Ramirez. I took off my glasses, set them aside, and massaged my temples to drive away my growing headache.

“If it makes you feel better, the package arrived before you showed up at your place,” Marcello said, handing me another envelope. “Oh, look. Another bill.”

“Story of my life,” I replied, taking the envelope and pulling out the folded sheet of paper. Like every other bill received during my disappearance, a notecard with the date of the bill’s payment was clipped to it. “The insurance company is going to love the call I’ll have to make to them soon.”