Bite Deep (20 page)

‘Don't worry about it,' Jericho said, shortly. He'd already called ahead to discuss with the store owner the possibility of extending their credit. A compromise had been reached, but Jericho knew they needed an influx of cash, and soon. He calculated how long it was before Reaper was scheduled for his next fight night. A good night could pull in nearly ten grand. Close enough, he figured. They could make it work.

‘I'll just head back then.' Corbin went to move around him, and Jericho grabbed his arm. He'd wanted this chance to talk to the boy, to see where his mind was at. The defiance he'd shown earlier concerned him, but today it was like it had never happened and the kid chatted easily.

‘You did well this morning,' Jericho said. ‘You held your ground against an Enforcer and that took guts.'

‘I'd do anything you say, Bulldog.' Corbin ducked his head. ‘And I'm sorry I shouted at you the other night. I just felt … confused.'

‘How're you feeling?' Jericho asked him, ‘You getting any night sweats? Maybe finding it hard to breathe sometimes?'

Corbin looked up, eyes brimming with sincerity. ‘I'm fine. Really.'

Jericho let him go. ‘I get that. You just remember the techniques I taught you and try to keep yourself on an even level. Understand?'

‘Sure, Bulldog. I understand.'

‘I'll meet you back at the Dog House,' he said, heading for his bike. The van rumbled by him a moment later. Jericho watched it go, then gave a start when he spied Lydia across the road. She disappeared inside the Camden Grill and curiosity struck him. The Grill was a comfy affair in the centre of town that advertised local beer, cheap steaks and bingo every Friday night. He wondered who was she catching up with and found the thought wouldn't leave him.

He waited a moment, then jogged across the road, telling himself he was just keeping an eye on her. She was well past infection, but then there was issue of what Coulter wanted from her.

He walked into the restaurant, nose wrinkling at the stench of overcooked meat, and the chatter of diners clogged his ears like water. Ignoring the speculative looks from the locals, he searched for Lydia, nostrils flaring as he scented the room. His paused, lips curled up in surprise when he easily separated her feminine scent from the other smells that swirled around him.

He located her easily enough, sitting opposite a man with a dark blue shirt and baseball cap over blond hair. The man was leaning forward, talking to Lydia, and Jericho knew instantly he was interested in her. Alarm streaked through him, the emotion taking him by surprise. What did he care if she was on a date?

As if feeling his gaze, she looked up and saw him, her eyes widening. Satisfaction flared in him. He wanted her to notice him, especially if she was with another man. The thought of the blond man near Lydia set his teeth on edge. He wondered if he should go and interrupt their dinner. Claim he had information for her. He could tell her what Reaper had discovered the night he'd tracked the drunk hunters. How he'd seen them stumble back to their ute, yelling at each other. How one of them had been that idiot, Novak. Seems like he had it in for Lydia. But as for being Anna's killer? No chance. Novak was an idiot.

Jericho almost smiled as he thought of the different ways he could discourage Novak from giving Lydia any more trouble. The air shifted behind him and he tensed, knowing who was there.

‘Jericho,' Vaughn said. ‘What a surprise, meeting you here.'

Jericho turned. ‘You following me?'

‘I might have some spotters on you.' Vaughn gestured to a table at one corner. ‘I thought perhaps you might sit with me? There is something I would like to discuss with you over a civilised meal. I had thought to do so this morning, but you were …' he paused, a small smile playing on his lips, ‘…uncooperative.'

Jericho paused, trying to gauge what would happen if he said no. The last thing he wanted was to be in close quarters with the Enforcer. But he also had a responsibility to know what Vaughn wanted and what was expected of the Dog House in light of the King's impending visit.

Vaughn saw his hesitation and his smile widened. ‘I promise to pay the bill.'

Jericho almost sneered. ‘I can pay my own way, Enforcer.'

‘You sure about that?' Vaughn's eyebrows crept up. Then he pushed past Jericho, heading to a table at the far corner. Jericho joined the Enforcer, trying not to notice how he watched Lydia with open interest.

‘Is she yours?' Vaughn asked.

‘No.' Jericho forced himself to stay still, not to turn to check on her.

‘That's good, seeing how she's laying a big fat sloppy kiss on her date.'

Jericho twisted in his chair. Lydia was laughing at something the man had said, but they weren't even touching. He looked back at Vaughn with a sour look. The Enforcer chuckled.

‘Funny,' Jericho said.

‘I thought so,' Vaughn said.

A waitress appeared and they gave their orders, both ordering their steaks bloody. When she left, Jericho leaned back in his chair.

‘What do you want?' he asked.

Vaughn picked up his napkin, taking his time in unfolding it and laying it across his lap. ‘Tell me, Jericho, what would you do if you were removed from Camden?'

‘I don't know,' Jericho said, shortly. After all, his whole world was here. There was nothing for him outside of Camden, no place in Breed society he wouldn't be shunned, as an alpha bearing the signs he'd lost a fight with another.

‘I think you do.' Vaughn settled his hands on the table. ‘Prior to you, this was where the irredeemable were sent to die. But you've saved many men, and now you're regarded as a great healer. If you left here, you would have options.'

‘I won't leave here without a fight.' Jericho ignored the flattery, not believing a word of it. He wondered what the Enforcer's motivations were for wanting him gone from Camden. Vaughn hated him and the feeling was mutual. The Enforcer saw him as nothing but a mutt and unworthy of positions of any power. The Rehabilitators before Jericho had been pure bloods, and Jericho had been grateful the last one hadn't cared about Jericho's genetic makeup. All he saw when he looked at Jericho was a leader.

‘You try to kick me out, I'll petition the Breed Council myself,' he said.

‘As is your right, of course,' Vaughn replied. ‘But I would advise you to start to accept the inevitable. Your time here is coming to a close.'

‘Why are you talking about this?' Jericho demanded. ‘Someone got a hard-on for my position?'

A flicker shot through Vaughn's eye, but he said nothing. Jericho sat back, feeling the air leave his lungs. ‘You've got someone lined up for the role already, haven't you.'

Vaughn's face gave nothing away. ‘I'm fairly certain a monkey could do a better job than you right now. Your facilities are woeful, it's little wonder you've had some deaths recently. As far as I'm concerned, any change would be an improvement. You haven't even been able to find out who was responsible for the death of one of Karla's girls.' He shook his head. ‘One of our own, murdered. It's an absolute disgrace. And what have you accomplished? Nothing.'

Jericho felt his hackles rise. More than anything, he wanted to launch himself at Vaughn and shred that smug look from his face. ‘Has this all got something to do with the King's mysterious illness?' he asked through clenched teeth. ‘You want to tell me why he's coming here?'

‘You don't need to know anything about that,' Vaughn replied. ‘You just need to do what you're told. But I will warn you, he has listened to my recommendation that you be removed as soon as possible. As well as your whole crew. The place is being run into the ground. Fresh blood is needed, someone who has connections and can locate more funding for the centre. After all, look at what Karla achieved.'

‘Did you really come to talk about my career options?' Jericho asked. ‘Because this is getting boring, real fast.'

Vaughn picked up the steak knife in front of him, running a thumb along the serrated blade. ‘I want to know what's going on between you and Karla.'

‘Why would you care?' Jericho grinned.

Vaughn levelled the blade towards him. ‘Because she's full-blooded and you need to keep your distance.'

‘My relationship with Karla is none of your business,' Jericho said recklessly, patience fraying.

Vaughn's face tightened and he put his knife down, as if he didn't trust himself with it. ‘You know why Enforcers of fallen Kings are usually to be killed? It's because they can't adjust to a new owner. This makes them dangerous, difficult to control. For some reason, you got to live, but as far as I'm concerned, it's on borrowed time.' His lips curled back. ‘And if you ever even think of touching Karla, I'll finish what I started eight years ago.'

Chapter 19

Lydia read the menu, trying to control her nervousness. It was still early, and the restaurant contained just a scattering of families with shrieking children.

This wasn't a date, it was just dinner, she told herself when she spotted Jamie enter the restaurant. He wore jeans, dark navy t-shirt and a baseball cap with the local fire station's insignia. When he saw her, he grinned and waved as he wove between the tables towards her.

She still wasn't sure if Jamie understood this dinner wasn't a date, but hadn't wanted to cancel, enjoying the diversion of a Sunday steak from her worries. The memory of it caused her smile of greeting to falter and she firmly pushed it from her mind. She'd deal with the issue of Novak's drunken, aggressive hazing tactic later.

‘You look lovely.' Jamie sat down and placed a hand briefly over hers. The unexpected contact brought a flush to her face and her hands retreated to her lap. Jamie just smiled, took his hat off and raked one hand through his short dishevelled blond hair and picked up the menu with the other.

‘Have you decided what you want?' His blue eyes scanned the menu, then rose to meet hers. ‘I always get a medium steak with mushroom sauce, myself.'

Lydia closed her menu. ‘Sounds good to me.'

He caught the waitress's eye and she approached to take their order. When she left, Jamie turned back to Lydia, expression turning serious. ‘How is the investigation going for the woman from Crystal Waters?'

Lydia fiddled with the straw in her glass, uncomfortable that he was asking. Did he really think she could discuss it with him? She gave him a smile. ‘Sorry, but can we change the subject? I don't want to talk about work.'

‘Sure. No big deal.' He leaned back in his chair with an easy smile. ‘Must be nice, living with the old Solberg couple just in your backyard. I heard Mrs Solberg is an amazing cook.'

‘Do you know Greta and Dominic?' Lydia sipped her drink.

‘Only in passing. I see Mrs Solberg in church once in a while. I think her husband is a painter or something?'

‘He told me he used to be a priest,' Lydia replied. ‘And I think Greta was a nurse before coming here.'

‘She does have that no-nonsense look about her,' he said.

‘I'm going to miss her cooking when she leaves,' Lydia admitted. ‘I'm not the worst cook, but I'd never come close to what she can do in the kitchen.'

Jamie laughed, the sound easy and carefree. ‘Maybe you could get some pointers from her? The church has a bake sale every month and I've tasted Mrs Solberg's gingerbread cakes.' He rolled his eyes. ‘I don't think I've ever had anything so amazing. All that spice, ginger and sugar, it just melted in my mouth. I'll bet her home-cooked meals are incredible.'

‘They're pretty incredible,' Lydia admitted.

‘No doubt.' He gave a dramatic sigh. ‘The most creative I get in the kitchen is sprinkling paprika on my two-minute noodles. I think I'd almost kill for one good, home-cooked meal.'

Lydia laughed, then listened as he started chatting easily about his day job at the local hardware store and his volunteer work at the fire station. As he talked, she found herself relaxing, nerves slowly unknotting. The third time she chuckled at one of his amusing anecdotes, she caught herself. It had been a long time since someone had made her laugh and the sensation sent a light fluttering through her, like a sweet scented breeze. Maybe, she thought, just maybe she could stay in Camden. If she could make amends for what she'd done to Jericho and figure out how to handle Novak, maybe she could make it work, after all.

* * *

Coulter sat at the small table in his hotel room, staring at the photos strewn across the tabletop. A television played in the corner of the hotel room, showing an old war movie he wasn't watching. He lifted one of the photos of a female Breed, seeing the eyes had been scratched out.

If he was to be honest with himself, he was deeply worried. He'd submitted his report on the situation in Camden to the Association and a question had bounced back, asking if he required assistance. Coulter had replied quickly that it wasn't necessary. After all, he was the one who had chosen this Hunter. His mess to clean up. He crumpled the photo with a fist. After receiving no confirmation from his pilot, he'd travelled out to the airstrip. The plane had been parked inside the rented hangar, fully fuelled and ready to go, the pilot in the cockpit with his throat slit.

Days had passed, and Coulter still hadn't managed to track down his elusive Hunter, despite scouring the town. No easy task while trying to avoid the Breed who kept tailing him.

After disposing of the pilot's body and cleaning the scene, he'd tried to understand what the Hunter had been thinking. It made no sense. He'd crossed a line by disobeying a direct order and taking a human life, and now Coulter had no choice but to find and eliminate him.

His eyes dropped to the note the Hunter had left, the only hint of what he was thinking. It was a short letter, full of talk about cleansing and duty. Perhaps he was going to do Coulter a favour and try to take out as many Breed as he could before he was caught. Because Coulter would catch him in the end and bring him to justice. Open defiance of this nature was never tolerated. The Association did not allow its Hunters many mistakes and there were heavy penalties for those who stepped too far out of their rules, something his brother had learned the hard way. After all, it wasn't Damian's affair with a local witch that had seen him condemned, but rather his growing insistence that common goals could be found. Utter nonsense, of course. The witch had infected his brother somehow, he was sure of it. And now the Breed had infected Lydia.