Sadie Hart (11 page)

“No? Then what did you think you were going
to do? Why’d you take the job if not to catch the bad guy?”

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Lot of
reasons. Never wanted to be the victim again.”

That, Ollie could understand. Even before the
Hunter, she’d known what being a victim was like. As far back as
her memories went, she knew what it felt like to be powerless,
scared, unable to help herself or anyone else—her father’s fists
had taught her that lesson.

“And, well, I thought it was about time
Shifter Town Enforcement opened its doors to other shifters. Not
just dogs.”

Especially since the killer who had kidnapped
Sawyer had been a rogue Hound on a mission to rid the world of all
lion-shifters. He’d killed seven people and kidnapped five,
including Sawyer and her young niece. Thankfully, one of the other
people he’d kidnapped had been Lennox, and she’d turned the tables
on him and helped Sawyer escape. Still, for the most part, Ollie
was still aware that there was a divide between STE and the
shifters they were supposed to protect.

Enforcement considered their primary mission
to be the protection of humans from shifters. Shifters had, for the
most part, gotten the shitty end of the deal—most wound up dead
long before they ever saw a jail cell. That was actually what the
rogue Hound had been counting on. Mass extermination, while using
his Hound magick to cover his tracks, so that in the end, he could
get off scot free.

They walked in silence for a while, Ollie
trying desperately to forget the man who’d killed so many people,
who’d kill again soon if she couldn’t stop him. He was a demon she
couldn’t escape, one who had claws hooked so deeply into her soul
that he followed her constantly, a second shadow. In a fury, she
lashed out, her boot sending a rock skidding up the sidewalk before
it disappeared into a clump of grass.

“Lennox re-ordered flyers of the sketch you
had done after—”

Sawyer didn’t have to finish. The moment
Ollie had gotten back to Enforcement after being held captive by
the Hunter, she’d worked with a pair of sketch artists to whip up a
composite. They’d flashed it around the news for weeks. Nothing. He
was ordinary. The kind of face most people would see on the street
and forget.

To Ollie, he was burned into her memory like
he’d been branded into her brain. She’d never forget the wayward,
almost boyish smile, or the way it twisted when she said something
he didn’t like, the dimple on his right cheek suddenly cavernous.
Dark. He’d dressed in plaid and jeans, his body lean and muscular,
more than fit enough to do the job.

More than anything it was the wolf she hadn’t
forgotten. The brilliant gold eyes that seemed to light up when
they caught the moon’s silver light, lantern-bright in the dark.
He’d been blacker than any shadow, a sleek eidolon that could
vanish into the night as if he’d never been there at all.

In the end, the sketch had simply taunted her
more. The Hunter had stared at her from paper, his brutal eyes flat
under the hard, graphite etchings of a pencil. The cruel line to
his mouth looked ordinary. The dark, dangerous dimple was simply a
line on the page. Even on paper he mocked her.

Ollie wrapped her arms around herself,
refusing to acknowledge the nagging sense of powerlessness, and
turned back towards Enforcement.

It only took one other person to see him, to
recognize him, and that could be all they needed. Just one. It was
a shred of hope Ollie clung to, a prayer she dared whisper again
and again. The devil couldn’t be invisible. Sooner or later,
someone had to see him for what he really was. Not an ordinary
man.

A monster.

Chapter Nine

Caine caught
Miranda Rawson’s trembling hands in his, squeezing gently to give
Claire’s mother a chance to catch her breath. More people than just
the pack had shown up for Claire’s funeral, people none of them had
even recognized, all coming to pay their respects. “You okay?”

“Feel like I’m about to shatter.” She
squeezed her quivering lips into a thin line, and Caine stepped
forward, his gaze automatically stalking the crowd for Mrs.
Rawson’s husband. There he was with their other daughter, the
sixteen-year-old Rawson girl sobbing against her father’s shoulder.
The old man looked about ready to break himself.

With a soft sigh, Caine wrapped an arm around
the woman and tugged her close, pinning her hands to his chest.
“It’s okay to break,” he whispered and felt her shoulders stiffen,
still trying to fight. He leaned his chin against the top of her
head. “No one will judge you for it.”

“I still can’t...” Her breath hitched in her
chest, locked on a sob, but she didn’t have to finish. She’d been
repeating it for the past two days, over and over again. I still
can’t believe she’s dead.

He wondered when she’d get around to saying:
I still can’t believe you failed. Pain pounded in his head, a
throbbing between his eyes that Caine had yet to shake. Most of the
pack was here, shaken, their nerves on edge with grief and the
sheer number of people present. Trey was making the rounds, doing
his best to keep fur under skin, hoping they’d all make it through
the day without a shift.

They were close, too. All they had to do was
make it through the speeches and the final farewells. He blew out a
long, steady sigh, trying to calm the woman in his arms. “I’m
sorry,” meaning it with all his heart, even if the words were
beginning to sound more habitual to him than mournful.

Caine started to move towards the crowd,
ushering Mrs. Rawson with him, when he saw a familiar black-haired
beauty, her black dress hanging nearly to her knees, nowhere near
long enough to keep his eyes from tracking up those long legs.
Holly Lawrence didn’t come alone, either.

He recognized her brother at her side, the
lioness-turned-Hound flanking them. The assortment of people behind
them were probably the rest of the Hound pack. He’d wondered if
Enforcement would make an appearance today, heard the mutterings
from his own pack about how they didn’t even care that shifters
were dying. Once, he’d have probably agreed with them, but nothing
about Holly could make him believe that she didn’t care.

Approaching the procession now, everything on
her face seemed to scream it. “Miranda,” he said softly and she
looked up, handkerchief in hand, then spotted the incoming Hounds.
She didn’t recognize them.

“More people I don’t know? Why can’t they
just leave us be today?”

“They’re the Hounds who worked your
daughter’s case.”

As if she could hear him, Holly’s head jerked
his way, those gunmetal gray eyes bonding instantly with his. With
one glance, Holly could deliver a physical blow to his gut. This
time out of sorrow. Pain. Her gaze flicked to the woman in his
arms, and he saw her face soften. She turned, said something to her
brother and the red-haired woman beside him, and then headed their
way.

Miranda gave a small gasp. “I don’t know if I
want to speak to them.”

“Her name is Holly Lawrence.” Miranda looked
at him, realization glittering in her eyes along with the tears,
and he nodded. “The one who got away.”

He squeezed her hands gently in his. “She
tried.”

Just like that, Claire’s mother sagged
against him, exhaustion and grief winning out. She broke into a
soft sob, a tear trailing down over her cheek, leaving a streak in
the makeup. Holly paused still a few feet away, pain contorting her
face. Her red lips parted, and Caine found himself fighting the
urge to go to her, to wrap her in a hug.

The need to keep them all safe and happy
roared through him. But he forced himself to simply clear his
throat. “Mrs. Rawson, this is Holly Lawrence, the Hound in charge
of your daughter’s case.”

Holly flinched at that, and he recognized the
guilt in her eyes. It was the same feeling that chopped away at
him. Should have been there. Should have done better. From the
looks of it, it didn’t go away. At least not with Holly.

“Holly, this is Claire’s mother.”

The wolfhound looked ready to run, but the
red-haired woman who had come in behind her was suddenly there, a
hand on Holly’s shoulder. She held out a hand to Miranda. “Lennox
Donnelly, STE alpha. We’re so sorry for your loss.”

The words wrenched another sob from Miranda,
but she took Lennox’s hand, then Holly’s. “Thank you.”

With a broken cry, Miranda turned back to
him, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you. I’m
going to go find Ron.”

Caine let her go, watching as she picked her
way tentatively over the grass on shaky heels, waves of grief
pouring off of her. The crowd parted around her, people stepping
forward to lend their condolences, and then Trey was there, helping
her through them. Caine watched until she was safely in the arms of
her husband, their remaining daughter wrapped between them, before
he turned to face the Hounds in front of him.

“We hope it’s okay that we’re here,” Lennox
said. “We wanted to come and pay our respects.”

Caine nodded, gesturing with one hand towards
the crowd still settling in their seats. “By all means.”

He took a step towards the gathering and
paused, his gaze automatically seeking Holly’s. Her brother’s arm
was wrapped over one shoulder, holding her tight. She seemed every
bit as ready to break as Mrs. Rawson had.

“We also think,” Brandt said, glancing over
her head towards Caine, “That he might show here. No guarantee, but
we wanted to be ready just in case.”

Caine stiffened. Here? The bastard would dare
to show himself here? One glance around the cemetery, the woods off
to one side, from one of the open rows of headstone after headstone
to the other, and he could feel the sickening twist in his gut. It
would be just like that monster to show up here, now.

“We have Hounds around the perimeter of the
cemetery. Just in case.” Holly’s voice sounded hollow to him, but
he couldn’t afford to look at her right now. Instead he turned and
caught Trey’s eye, tilting his head slightly to call the other wolf
over. Within a few moments his second had freed himself from the
group and headed his way.

“What’s up?” Trey asked, even as his gaze
slid to the pair of Hounds beside him. Caine watched as Trey’s
nostrils flared, no doubt taking in the pumpkin spice scent Holly
wore today, and the musky flare of wolfhounds. Caine knew the
moment Trey recognized Holly as the one his alpha had been
cuddling.

“They think the killer might show up here.
Keep an eye out, fetch Raj and Lee, and get them on
perimeters.”

“We don’t think he’ll take anyone,” Brandt
said. “But we damn well want to catch him.”

Trey’s chin jerked in a nod, not to Brandt,
but to Caine. “Got it, boss.”

Then without so much as a second glance at
the pair of Hounds, his wolf bounded back towards the crowd,
gathered two men, and got straight down to business. Brandt gave a
low, appreciative sound at the back of his throat. “Smooth.”

They were efficient, every bit like a wolf
pack cutting elk from a herd. Caine twisted to see the STE alpha,
but the wolfhound was already stepping away. He headed towards the
rest of the pack, leaving her alone with Caine. She wrapped her
arms around herself and offered him a bitter smile.

“He’s here,” she said, the muscle in her jaw
flexing as she glanced around. “We won’t see him, but he’s
here.”

Steel gray eyes flicked up to meet his, and
he felt the answering certainty in his gut. Just like the day at
the bar, when the killer had played hide and seek with them around
the parking lot. His jaw tightened, teeth grinding. “Doesn’t mean I
won’t try like hell to catch him.”

A smile touched her lips then, an answering
predatory light sparking in that gaze of hers, turning her eyes to
quicksilver, molten. “Oh, you and me both.”

She tilted her head towards the cemetery
entrance. “We have half the precinct here. None of us wants to let
him go.”

But she was a realist, just like Caine. She
didn’t believe in fairy tales.

This guy was good. He wouldn’t be here if he
thought even for a second that he’d get caught. That knowledge
didn’t keep Holly from handing him a piece of paper, a sketch of
the killer’s face. She had a stack in her hand that she passed to
him as well. “For your pack.”

He nodded, then stared down at the bastard’s
face, memorizing every detail. Short hair, loose around his face.
Average, good ole boy look. Ordinary. He glanced up, watched the
way Holly stared at the paper, hate and frustration plain across
her features. Her lip curled back and she looked away, like a dog
hiding a snarl. Probably not too far from the truth.

Caine took a step towards her, and Holly
jerked, so startled she took a step back. She blew out a breath,
the apology plain on her face, and he shook his head. It didn’t
matter. How the woman could be a Hound was beyond him; she hid
nothing, at least not to a wolf’s eyes. “Let’s find him.”

The tension eased out of her shoulders and
the stiff way she held herself relaxed a notch, suddenly welcoming.
He wanted to reach out and touch her, see if it brought all her
walls back up around her, but he didn’t. With a tilt of his head in
her direction, Caine headed off toward where he’d last seen Trey. A
slight purse of his lips and a whistle later, and his second was
trotting up to his side. He passed him the stack of sketches. “Show
the other two. At least now we know who we’re looking for.”

Though in a way Caine already knew. His nose
wouldn’t lie, and unlike appearances, scent wasn’t easily
disguised. Not from a wolf’s nose. He tilted his head back into the
wind and inhaled, first catching the sharp, earthy scent of autumn
on the breeze. The crowd would make it difficult, but Caine was
nothing if not patient. He stalked around the edge of the
perimeter, fully intent on catching his prey.