Sadie Hart (23 page)

“I’d barely managed to shut my door when I
heard a woman screaming for help. I drew my weapon and took off
running. We knew he raped them, and while there’d never been any
evidence of that on scene, killers and rapists, they all
adapt.”

That night flashed through her memory. She’d
run through the woods, weapon drawn, moving as quietly and quickly
as she could. Rosalie Myers’s panicked screamed tore through the
night air. “Help! Somebody help me!”

Ollie had known exactly who was out there. Of
course it could have been someone else, but deep in her gut she’d
known the truth that night. Ran straight for it. Her breathing
picked up as she remembered. The wind whipping past her face, the
rumble of an approaching truck, another scream shattering the night
air.

Ollie froze, her lips parted, brows furrowed
as she replayed the memory. Searching for the sound she didn’t
remember hearing. “Do you hear that?”

She felt Caine move slightly, silent as he
listened. “Nothing but birds and a deer a hundred yards out. We’ve
been quiet enough we haven’t disturbed her.”

“The car...”

“Ollie, there’s no car.”

“I...” She didn’t remember hearing it that
night, but she had heard it this time. Dragging her bottom lip in
between her teeth, she tried to get the mad dash of memories back,
but brains were fickle, tricky things. Filling in or erasing
details they either thought you needed or didn’t. With a frustrated
sound growl, she focused back on her memory, fast-forwarding
through the rest of that night.

“I made it to the shack. I could hear her in
there, thrashing to get free. Chains rattling. I could smell blood,
sweat. She was so scared.” Ollie’s voice hitched at the memory.

“Where was the Hunter?”

Heart pounding, Ollie remembered sidling up
to the side of the shack, listening. She’d been reaching for the
door to yank it open when he’d caught her from behind. After that,
everything had gone black. The next thing she knew, she woke in the
shack. He’d set Rosalie on the ground, she’d passed out, and was
reaching over to lift Ollie when he saw she was awake.

With one hand, he’d reached out to stroke her
cheek, the dimple in his shadowing with a smile. “I didn’t expect a
bonus kill.”

“Ollie. Where was the Hunter when you got to
the shack? What was he doing?” Caine’s voice pulled her back, gave
her the objectivity to disconnect from her memories and just browse
through them, much like she’d been flipping through the files at
the office.

She cringed. The car she’d heard. It had come
from the same direction she’d parked hers. Oh God. Ollie leaned her
head forward, and Caine wrapped his hand around her neck, guiding
her head to his shoulder. He slipped his arms around her.

“He wasn’t there. Not when I got there. She
was screaming and I just ran for her. I mean, I checked everything,
but I was so focused on what was happening in the shack.” She took
a deep, shuddering gasp. “That car I heard? I heard it while I was
running to her. It was the Hunter coming back, it had to be.”

Ollie grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “He
wasn’t there when I got to the shack. I had time to slow down, take
in the area around it. I could hear her thrashing inside, fighting
to get loose, but I didn’t hear anyone else in there with her. But
that didn’t mean he wasn’t with her. I had to get inside.”

Caine drew soothing circles down her back,
massaging the muscles, holding her. “So what’d you do?”

“I checked the outside of the shack, slipped
to the side of the door, and was reaching to open it when he
knocked me out from behind.”

“So you think he got there while you were
running to the shack, heard his catch screaming—”

She pulled back, wishing she could look into
his eyes. “And knew he was about to lose his prey.”

Ollie reached up and slid her fingers under
the blindfold, slipping it off her head. Caine didn’t stop her. She
glanced around the forest and felt the nauseous twist in her
stomach. He’d taken her back to that night, in every sense of the
word. “How’d you know?”

“I got the coordinates from Lennox. She
figured if there was a chance you could remember more, a clue,
something, it was worth letting me take you out here today. Just to
try it.”

Ollie stared at the rundown shack. Could
remember Rosalie Myers running out the door, the Hunter’s
triumphant grin before he followed her. “So he took her out here a
day before the full moon, and left her. Why?”

Caine shrugged. “Lennox said you missed two
check-ins. He kept you overnight.”

“It wasn’t the full moon yet.”

“So why kill Lydia Marks? He could have just
taken her back.”

But the Hunter didn’t handle change well.
He’d been angry with her. He’d tried to tease, tried that too-dark
smile on her, but the way he’d hit her after he’d strung her from
the rafters... And then the more she’d fought him, the more she’d
told Rosalie what to do, the angrier he’d become. “He doesn’t like
interference. He likes things to go his way.”

“So now we just have to figure out how to
mess up his plans?”

Ollie shook her head and stepped past him
toward the shack looming in front of her. She touched the wood, the
rough, splintered door a physical reminder of that night. Curling
her fingers around the handle, she pulled it open. It was empty. As
if nothing had ever happened here. Ollie turned, picturing Rosalie
running into the woods, the wolf bounding out a few seconds
later.

“Let’s go,” she whispered, and followed them.
This time as a woman, not a dog. She let the memories pour over her
as she ran through the woods, dodging low branches and shoving
through rough brush.

She could feel the strained desperation that
had burned through her that night. Heard the roar in her head and
felt it jerk her to a stop. She paused. There. Ollie gestured to
the empty patch of dirt between a pair of pine trees.

“He shot me there. I stumbled and fell,
landing on my knees in front of him. Here.” She moved to stand on
that very spot. Her gaze lifting to meet Caine’s, and her heart
filled at the quiet awe she could see on his face. Respect and
sympathy, not pity, shone out of his eyes.

“He told me to run. Screamed it at me. But I
wouldn’t. He needed that, no, he needs that. That’s why he killed
Lydia. It wasn’t just because she got away, but because she was
running from him. He couldn’t help himself.”

“Why his teeth? I’ve seen the files now, and
he always shoots his victims.”

Her shoulders started to lift in a shrug when
she paused, heart pounding in her chest. “Because he’s a hunter.
Not just a wolf, but an honest-to-god, hunt-deer-in-the-fall
hunter. We’ve suspected that all along, from the way he knows these
woods, uses the tree stands.”

“But why his teeth?”

“Because she got the best of him. She ran
when he didn’t have a gun.” The triumphant gleam in the Hunter’s
eyes flashed back through her mind and she tried to put herself in
his wolf’s place. The animal giddy with the chase. “He lost
control. He chased her down, angry she’d messed everything up, and
he lost control.”

Ollie scrubbed a hand down her face as she
moved to the spot where Rosalie’s great cat form had lain dead.
“And none of this tells us anything we didn’t already know. At
least, anything helpful.”

“You messed up his plans. You pissed him off.
This is more about you than this is about the Carsons.”

“That won’t save them.” No matter how much
she wished it would. Come get me you bastard. But even if she
screamed it, he wouldn’t come. He had to hunt her on his own
terms.

Caine caught her shoulder and squeezed.
“Don’t.”

“I know. Some days, though, it’s just hard
not to let the guilt eat at you.”

Pulling her close, Caine turned them both
back in the direction of the car. There was nothing left to find
here. Caine ran his hand through her hair, tilting her face up to
steal a kiss.

“Sooner or later, we’re going to get
him.”

Ollie nodded, but she didn’t saying
anything.

She’d been telling herself that for a long
time. And it was getting pretty frayed around the edges.

Chapter Eighteen

Her
house was dark, the familiar porch light off, as Caine turned up
her drive. Even the lights inside were out and he frowned. “Where’s
Nana?”

“Brandt had her moved to a hotel, along with
Star. He didn’t think he’d be home tonight.” The look she sent him
told Caine exactly how she felt about being home tonight. Caine
parked the car up alongside her house and said nothing as he killed
the engine and slipped out, making his way around to her door.

She had it half open and was climbing out
when he caught her, pinning her against the car. Caine crowded in
closer until his hips bumped her and he could feel the shaky rattle
of her knees. More exhaustion than desire, and that bugged him.
Hell. She needed a break. Not that people like her got vacations
with mad killers on the loose.

Caine reached out and swept away a stray,
curly strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “Let’s rehash,
shall we?”

Ollie’s lips quirked up and she shook her
head. “Let’s not. It’s just your way of trying to prove you’re
right.”

“You have two packs poring through countless
files, past cases, anything and everything, looking for this man.
It’s pretty obvious by now that he has no priors.”

How, Caine didn’t even begin to understand.
This guy was practiced, thorough. He had to have a record, had to
have slipped up at least once. But without a fingerprint they were
all working overtime with nothing more than a sketch.

Ollie jerked her chin up a notch, defiant.
Caine wanted desperately to kiss the look of desperation off her
face. “I could still help.”

No, she couldn’t. His thumb swept over her
lips, an order for silence. “You have that tech whiz genius and her
crew slaving over the partial license plate, although at the moment
no one is quite sure if Raj remembered the plate right. But still,
if anyone could get a hit, it’ll be your girl. Right?”

And since he’d tossed her earlier words back
at her, the only thing she could say was, “Right.”

“So. You’ve got your bases all covered. I
vote we take a walk, get a look at the full moon, and then see
about toting your pretty little ass off to bed. Because you do need
sleep, Ol.”

He watched the anger flare in her eyes, the
stubborn refusal. Christ, but arguing with a mule would have been
easier than trying to get through her thick skull sometimes. She
knew he was right, but it didn’t change the fact that she had to be
feeling helpless. Cornered. And he knew she’d be damned if she
wouldn’t dig her heels in and try to get back to work.

Slipping out from under his arms, Ollie
headed for the woods. He let her go, softly shutting the car door
before he headed after her, steps slow. Patient. He’d catch her
because she wouldn’t go far. She owned eight acres around this
house, but there was only one place she’d go the night before a
full moon.

The place where Claire Rawson had died.

She just couldn’t stop working. And while he
loved her determination, loyalty, every damned thing about her,
watching her run herself into the ground was torture. This was how
the Hunter was going to win. He’d run her so ragged she didn’t
stand a chance, and Ollie couldn’t see past her work and the desire
to nail the bad guy to recognize that.

“What about your pack? Shouldn’t you be
babysitting them?”

“My pack is in the safe and capable hands of
my second, in lockdown. They’re divided among three houses and
bunked down for the night. You’re the only one I don’t have locked
down tight.”

Ollie shot him a look over her shoulder. “I’m
also not a member of your pack.”

Like hell she wasn’t. Caine moved, closing
the distance between the two of them in a lunge. He caught her arm
just above the elbow, his grip gentle but firm. Ollie drew up
short, and Caine moved to step in front of her. The steel of her
eyes was lost in the shadows, but the upward tilt of her jaw had
enough steel to slice right through him. She’d argue until she was
blue in the face.

“Caine—”

“Yeah, you are.” He cut her off, refusing to
let her try and wheedle her way out of this. In every way that
mattered, she was as much his pack as anyone else. More. Caine
stepped closer, erasing the distance between them until he could
taste the apple of her shampoo on his breath. “Maybe not up here,”
he poked the side of her head. “You think too damn much for
that.”

“Yeah, because I’m a Hound. I already have a
pack, and then, when it all comes down to it in the end, I’m also
not a wolf.”

His finger trailed from her forehead, down
the edge of her jaw, skimming over her neck until he traced a line
down her left breast and held it right above her heart. “But right
here,” he leaned in, his breath mixing with hers. The two of them,
one. “You’re mine.”

His lips found hers then, in a kiss that left
no room for argument or negotiation. He stormed in, tongue mating
with hers, and set siege to her heart. There was no holding back.
Fuck, but he wanted her. He dropped her arm, only to find the curve
of her hip and hold her close, molding her against his body.

Ollie didn’t fight. Her hands slid up his
chest, found the curl of hair at the back of his neck and stroked
softly along the sensitive skin. Her mouth yielded under his,
welcoming him inside, and Caine knew it was more than just one
damned kiss.

When he pulled away a small, shuddering gasp
slid from her and she closed her eyes. Caine nipped the corner of
her lips. “Don’t you dare say I’m wrong. You don’t get to choose
how I feel about you.”

The barest hint of a smile flashed over her
lips and he relaxed. Acceptance. It was such a hard thing to get
from her, but the moment her mind wrapped around something it
stuck. “All right. Whatever you say Mr. Wolf.”