Wolf at the Door (14 page)

They’d put the phone tap in. Brandt knew what
Wolfe had said, he’d heard it from Timber, but as he stared at the
phone he nodded. He wanted to hear Wolfe for himself. Wanted to
hear the man who had killed fifteen women. The same bastard who had
tortured Timber for a
year
. He wanted to know the voice
behind the stench.

“Play it.”

Tate glanced at the Hounds around them, but
his thumb brushed over the touch screen to begin the call. Martin’s
whimpers filled the night air and everyone stilled. Brandt watched
while Ace’s faced hardened.

“Charles,” Timber’s voice came over the line.
Hard, angry. Nothing at all like the soft, teasing woman who had
been in his arms less than an hour ago.

Martin screamed then, and Brandt heard
Timber’s breath catch, the soft sob she stopped before it could
make much of a sound. But if he’d heard it, he had no doubt Wolfe
had heard it too. Brandt also knew it was exactly the reaction
Wolfe had wanted.

Wolfe’s voice came over the line again, and
hot fury curled through Brandt, burning on white-hot embers that
raced through his veins. His fists clenched as the words rang out
in the night, everyone around him tense and listening. “You know
the rules, love.”

Brandt barely refrained from snarling. As if
Wolfe had any idea what that meant. Wolfe rattled on, but Brandt
looked from one member of his pack to the next. The knife slashed
out and Brandt winced when he heard Martin’s whimper, the slice of
the blade sinking into her again.

He barely heard the rest of what Wolfe said
before the phone went dead.

“He’s jealous,” Brandt said and not just to
Tate, but to everyone in his pack there. “He can’t get to Timber
because we’re watching her. He wants to force us into giving him
what he wants.”

Tate snorted. “Because that’ll solve
everything. Kearney was his ‘mate’ the last time he kidnapped her
and held her. He killed his first twelve victims while she was with
him. He’s just getting warmed up with this little show.”

“This isn’t a show,” Ace snapped, and the
growl rose out of Brandt before he could stop it.

Ace was a good Hound, but he still had the
old mentality that shifters and Hounds weren’t the same. It wasn’t
a mentality they could afford right now.

“No,” Tate said quietly. “It’s not a show to
us
, but it is to him. He killed Martin brutally to make us
sit up and take notice. He killed her on the fucking
phone
to torture the woman in that house.” Tate pointed at Timber’s.
“Because holding her and raping her while he killed twelve other
women over the course of a year wasn’t torture enough.”

Brandt hadn’t realized until now how much
Tate had figured out. Tate hadn’t questioned the amount of
information Brandt withheld, but he’d sure as hell put together the
pieces and come up with a pretty accurate picture.

“Makes you wonder how many times he’s made
her listen to him or watch while he killed someone else,” another
Hound said softly. Brandt looked around at them. Of his entire
pack, the only one there who was angry at Timber was Ace. He’d
expected as much, but it made him damned proud to know how far
they’d all come during their past few years together. A few had
even requested a transfer to his pack to have a shot at making a
difference in the lives of shifters.

“Finish the scene,” Brandt said, exhaustion
suddenly weighing him down. Then he turned to Ace. “Come with
me.”

The Hound snarled but got to his feet. They
both knew what Brandt was going to say. Everyone in the pack
probably knew, but he’d given Ace time to adjust, and right now
they didn’t have the luxury of giving him more. Not after his stunt
with Timber. Her trust in Shifter Town Enforcement was shaky
enough, he couldn’t afford to have Ace shatter what little she
had.

“You firing me?”

“No. I’m putting you on leave, and tomorrow
I’ll see if we can find an appropriate transfer for you. You’ve
lost two partners, and you need the time off. And we both know this
pack isn’t the right fit for you.” Ace sneered but didn’t say a
word. If he had an argument, it obviously wasn’t something he felt
he could bring to Brandt. “Go on. You’re off for the night.”

Ace turned and marched away. Brandt could
feel the man’s anger, his frustration. He knew on some level Ace
still wanted Brandt to ‘do something’ about Timber, exact some
retribution for what had been done to Martin. And Brandt would, but
it wouldn’t be what Ace wanted. Laci Martin’s death hadn’t been
because of Timber. He also knew Ace was mad at him because he’d as
good as made love with Timber tonight. Her scent was all over his
skin.

Shit. He’d known it wasn’t a good idea. But
knowing it hadn’t been enough to make him want to stop.

“Boss,” Tate said as he approached, and
Brandt wrestled his attention back to his second in command.

“Yeah?” But even as he spoke, Brandt knew
what Tate was going to say. Knew it because it was the same damn
conversation that was clamoring around in his head.

“Wolfe’s not just trying to force our hand;
he’s trying to force yours. Think you might be getting too close to
the job?”

Brandt wanted to deny it. Hell, getting
involved with someone on the job, especially a crucial witness,
wasn’t smart. But what happened tonight hadn’t changed anything.
He’d still done his job. It had hurt like hell, physically and
emotionally, to walk out that door and go after Charles when all he
wanted to do was finish what they’d begun on that couch.

“Boss, if it were anyone else you’d be having
this conversation yourself. Are you going to be able to make the
right calls if you get too close?”

An argument was on his lips, but Brandt bit
it back. There was something about Timber that drew him. He wanted
her. But it was more than just a physical attraction. He wanted to
see her smile, make her laugh, and he loved holding her. He still
wanted her. After everything that had happened tonight, knowing he
needed to rebuild the space between them, Brandt wanted nothing
more than to kiss her again. Make her his.

If it had been one of his Hounds, he’d have
reassigned them. So yeah, he knew what Tate was saying.

But he wasn’t about to walk away from Timber
either.

Tate rocked back on his heels, uneasy. “Look,
I’m not saying it to piss on your turf or some shit like that. It’s
dangerous to get too close to a job. I would know.”

“I’m aware.” Brandt forced himself to meet
the other Hound’s gaze. “I’m keeping an eye on the situation.”

Tate looked away first, submissive. They both
knew there wasn’t a submissive bone in Tate’s body, any more than
there was in Brandt’s, but it was a matter of respect. Tate showed
a sensitivity which Brandt valued. Which was saying a lot, because
Brandt didn’t smell like someone who had it under control. He
smelled like a horny teenager who’d gotten too close to losing
control.

“You should probably see if you can get her
to move tonight. At least temporarily.” Brandt recognized the
suggestion for what it was. If he moved Timber out of her house and
into protective custody, then there was no reason for Brandt to be
her only guard. It’d give him space.

It galled him, but there was more to Tate’s
suggestion than just separating them, and Brandt knew it.

“Agreed,” Brandt murmured, his attention
drifting back to the bush Wolfe had used before. “He knows her
situation here too well, and that gives him the upper hand.”

“I’d also say you need to go home, get some
sleep, but I don’t see that happening.”

Home, no. But Timber would be safe there, and
the thought of her in his house stirred something inside him, a
want, a longing—but it wasn’t professional. And fuck if he hadn’t
already come close to breaking every rule in his book tonight.

Brandt turned to look at the house. It loomed
in the shadows, a dark silhouette stretching up into the sky. It no
longer looked like a safe place. Wolfe had come too close too many
times. Tate was right, they needed to move her...the question was,
would Timber go?

***

Timber bit her lip as she sat on the couch,
watching the shadows move through the artificial lights in the
distance. She’d watched the Hounds tape off the crime scene, the
pack converging on her front lawn. She’d turned away before her
attention could drift to the end of her driveway and the scene she
knew was there. She didn’t need another dead face staring back up
at her every time she closed her eyes.

She picked at the sweatpants she was
wearing...Brandt’s clothes, so they were baggy and kind of
comforting...they certainly were better than wandering the house in
nothing more than a night shirt. Even with Brandt sleeping on her
couch she hadn’t been able to break the habit.

Voices trickled in from outside, and she
recognized Brandt’s weary tone. There’d been a woman outside her
front door since he’d left, and Timber could hear the Hound talking
to Brandt now. “Been quiet. She watched from the windows for a few,
turned on the television about a half hour ago. I’ve checked on her
a few times but she seems to want to be alone.”

Seems to? Timber leaned her head against the
back of the couch. She didn’t want to look into any of their faces.
She’d seen that Hound earlier, Ace. If Brandt had let him, he’d
have packed her off to Charles without even the slightest twinge of
remorse. A wolf-shifter in exchange for a Hound? No contest.

“Thanks.” The front door creaked open and
Timber watched Brandt step inside. Somehow, despite everything, he
still looked incredible. His face was worn, tired, dark stubble
sandpapering his jaw, but just his presence as he walked into her
house made her heart pick up speed. He was tall and lean, built
more like a runner than a weight lifter. The wild curl to his hair
gave him a kind of rugged appeal, especially in his rumpled jeans
and T-shirt. Brandt’s eyes lifted to meet hers.

His gaze held hers, imploring. “How you
holding up?”

She had no idea how she was supposed to feel.
Was it wrong to simply be numb? Timber tried to offer him a smile,
but she couldn’t do it. She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. It was
all the answer she could give him.

His attention drifted to the clock, but she
didn’t have to look to know it was almost two in the morning. She’d
been staring back and forth between the window and the clock since
this whole fiasco began.

“You tried to get any sleep?”

“No.”

Brandt crossed the room, his long strides
eating up the distance between them until he was kneeling in front
of her, one hand on hers. She could see the small hole in his
sweatpants over her knee, where she’d been picking at the stray
threads. His fingertips brushed the bare skin there when he rested
his hand on hers. “It wasn’t your fault,” he whispered.

“I know. I just...don’t even know what to
feel anymore. I just want this to be over.” She gritted her teeth
hard enough that her jaw ached. No. She knew exactly how she felt.
Angry. Scared. And she was sick and tired of being scared. “She
didn’t deserve to die. None of them has deserved to die.”

“You don’t deserve this, either. The guilt,
the regret, the pain.”

“Charles deserves to die,” she whispered.
Brandt didn’t argue, and Timber found herself clinging to that.
Somehow, he didn’t seem to want to blame her. “Your pack—”

“Does not blame you.”

That was probably the hardest part to
believe. She was an easy scapegoat, and she understood that kind of
thinking. “Then who do they blame?”

Brandt rubbed his thumb over her knuckles,
the soft stroking reassuring, grounding her. “The same person I do.
Wolfe.”

A knock at the door sounded and a blonde head
peeked in. The freckle-faced woman’s attention landed on Brandt.
“Tate’s got a room. You good to go?”

Timber felt her heart twist, the slamming
pulse picking up tempo, as Brandt shook his head and the Hound
disappeared back outside. “Go where?”

“You can’t stay here.”

Timber backed away, shaking her head. No. She
wasn’t going anywhere, not after one of their own had been
murdered. No.

“Wolfe has the upper hand here. He knows how
to contact you, how to get to you. He knows the layout of the place
and has the luxury of watching us, figuring out our weaknesses. You
are not safe here.”

A laugh caught in her throat, ripe with
hysteria; it ached, burning to be let out. She wasn’t safe
anywhere. And she sure as hell wasn’t getting in a Shifter Town
Enforcement car. “No.”

“I’m asking you to trust me. Have I let you
down yet?”

Timber made a strangled sound. No, he hadn’t.
Somehow, he seemed to keep to everything he said, every time.
Still, the idea of walking out of her house and getting in a
Shifter Town Enforcement vehicle, letting them tote her off to
wherever, set her teeth on edge. “There’s no guarantee anywhere
else will be safer.”

She knew she was being stupid. Looking at
Brandt in front of her, she didn’t believe he’d give her to
Charles, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave, either. She
wanted to trust him, implicitly, blindly, but the rest of his pack?
She blew out a long, slow breath. Here, although he’d surrounded
her with his pack, she still had the illusion of control.

Leaving stripped her of that. She could walk
right into a trap without either one of them knowing what hit
them.

“I want somewhere I know. I don’t want to be
in some motel room surrounded by people I don’t know.”

“Do you have friends, family you could go
to?”

“No.” How pathetic did it sound that the man
in front of her, the one she barely knew, was the closest thing she
had to a friend? She swallowed.

Brandt speared his fingers through his hair
as he looked up at her. That one motion highlighted his exhaustion.
It showed the weary creases at the corner of his eyes, the dark
shadows on his face. “Is it the thought of Shifter Town Enforcement
that makes you the most nervous about leaving? That even with me,
someone else in my pack could pull a stunt that leaves you open in
vulnerable?”