Caressed By Ice (19 page)

“Oh.” But she shouldn't, not that deep. A scent layer only grew ingrained—unable to be washed off—between lovers. Something she'd never become with Judd if he got himself executed for killi—
Stop!
“Lucy, I need a favor. Can you get access to a vehicle?”

“Sure. So can you.”

“Not without Riley finding out. Um, I'm kind of under den arrest.” She was going to break the rules, but she wasn't going to be stupid about it.

“Riley's got some burr under his bonnet,” Lucy muttered. “He chewed me out yesterday for nothing. I'll sneak you out and it'll be my pleasure. Where are we going?”

“Miss Leozandra's Beauty Parlor.” Smack bang in the middle of Chinatown.

 

He was going
to take care of unfinished business this morning. The den grapevine had confirmed that the bitch was finally alone and unprotected. All he had to do was lure her to one of the dim corners of the garage.

She'd come. If she had remembered his face, she would have squealed by now. It didn't matter. She had to die—he couldn't take the chance of her memory returning. They'd rip open his stomach and pull out his guts while he was still alive if they learned what he'd done. The drugs and Timothy's murder were nothing compared to his first crime.

He bit down the fear. She'd come. She trusted him. He was one of the good guys.

Once in the garage, he'd overdose her with the Rush already loaded into the pressure injector, shove her into the trunk of one of the Pack cars, and drive out. No one would ever figure out where she'd gone. Or they'd blame Judd Lauren. Yes, that would work. He'd make it look like Judd had killed her, maybe leave a knife coated with her blood in the Psy's room.

He smirked, fear buried under sick excitement.

His first surprise came when he got to her apartment. The door was covered with the cool, dangerous scent of the Psy she was undoubtedly fucking. He backed off without touching anything. The scent could be there because Judd had spent time inside, but he was certain the Psy had done something, set up some kind of weird psychic trap.

“Hey, you looking for Bren?” A smiling face, a packmate. “She's gone off with Lucy. Saw them leave.”

“No.” He couldn't have her finding out he'd been looking for her. It might serve to trigger her memory. “Drew actually.”

“I heard something about war games.”

“Thanks.” His gut churned as he walked away. He could do nothing now, would have to wait until the grinning fool who'd interrupted him forgot he'd ever seen him outside that door. But he couldn't wait forever. Brenna might remember.

To Brenna's surprise
, they made it out of den territory without a problem. She crawled out of the backseat and asked Lucy to stop once they were no longer in any danger of being spotted by scouts. “I can take it from here.”

“Sure?” A friendly question, nothing more.

“I need to
drive
.”

“Have at it. I'll run back and pretend ignorance if Riley grills me.”

Brenna returned her mischievous smile. “Thanks, Lucy.”

“Anytime.” She got out and Brenna moved into the driver's seat. Waving, she watched her friend disappear into the woods. Then she took a deep breath and the wheel. Her lips stretched into a huge smile. This felt like freedom.

The drive from the snow of the Sierra to the cold but dry bustle of San Francisco was spookily smooth. No traffic jams, no wolf sentries racing to stop her, no red lights. Perfection. She should've known it was too easy. After finding a vertical street park—her car being slotted up into the third level—she began the trek to the beauty parlor. Trouble struck less than a minute later.

A tall male with amber-gold hair materialized out of nowhere to lean on the wall in front of her. “I thought you were supposed to remain at the den.”

“I don't believe this!” Folding her arms, she stared at the DarkRiver sentinel. “They snitched me out to the cats?” Who might be their allies, but were not yet friends. However, she trusted Vaughn. He'd come for her—she might've been unconscious at the time, but her wolf remembered. Vaughn was safe.

Of course, at this moment he didn't look particularly happy to see her. “The situation's volatile. Some of our people aren't feeling friendly.”

“Oh.” She'd failed to take that into account, an inexcusable mistake with what was going on. All she had wanted was to get out and fix this one thing she
could
fix, even if her mind was splintering into a thousand pieces. “I should go back, huh?” She couldn't hide her disappointment.

“What the hell—I'm around to provide personal bodyguard service.” He gave her a look that could've come from either one of her brothers. “Where to?”

Wanting to hug him, she grinned. “Miss Leozandra's.”

 

Brenna left
close to sunset, after having been fed both a late lunch and an afternoon snack by Miss Leozandra's personal chef. She couldn't remember what she'd eaten, she was so excited with her shoulder-length look. The gen-synth extensions were flawless—even she couldn't tell where her hair ended and they began. And she had bangs!

Nothing could put a damper on her happiness, not even the knowledge that she'd been spotted returning by several sentries. Riley would know in minutes. She didn't care. Her joy increased with each exclamation that met her on the way to her quarters—the reaction was unanimously positive.

She didn't know who was more surprised when she turned the corner and found Judd leaning outside the door to her rooms. His face, of course, didn't betray anything, but she saw a flicker in his eyes, somehow knew she'd caught him unawares. As had he.

“You look fine.” Disbelieving, she gave him the once-over. It was plain he'd showered and put on a fresh pair of black jeans and a black T-shirt. But the skin she could see was clear of bruises.

“Why shouldn't I be?”

“Because you were out in the forest with my brother.” She unlocked the door and let him prowl in behind her, very aware that for all his determination to restrain his emotions, he'd come searching for her. He kicked the door shut as she fought to contain her joy.

“Hmm.” Walking forward, he fingered a strand of her hair. “So soft.”

She didn't say anything as he stroked the strands through his fingers over and over, as if attempting to figure out where the high-tech fibers joined her natural hair…or maybe he was simply indulging himself.

“Perfect.” He let the strands slide away.

“Do you like it?” she found herself asking despite her better judgment.

“I already told you.”

Perfect.

What she'd taken as a comment on the quality of the extensions had been about her. “Oh.” Feeling a little shy, she nonetheless reached out and hugged him. He went stiff and she suddenly knew it wasn't a reaction to her touch. Pulling back, she began to push up his T-shirt. “Let me guess, broken ribs?”

“Brenna.” He tried to stop her, but she swatted away his hand.

“Oh. My. God.” The entire left side of his chest was black and blue. “Why aren't you taped up?”

“I don't need it.”

She shoved down the T-shirt. “Fine. Be all macho about it.” Then something else occurred to her. Her blood chilled. “Judd, what does Drew look like?”

“Worse.”

“Is he dead?” she forced herself to ask.

“No.”

Relief made her a little light-headed. “I thought you guys played with lasers.”

“We made some new rules.” It was obvious he wasn't going to tell her any more.

She threw up her hands. “You're not dead. Drew isn't dead. That's good enough for me.” She turned to grab a couple of ice packs from the built-in cooler. “Sit.”

“I said—”

“Sit.”

He sprawled into a chair. When she wrapped the ice packs in a small towel and placed them against his ribs, he didn't protest. “What is it with men and testosterone?” she muttered, standing in the vee formed by his outstretched legs.

“I don't think you'd like us without it.” He held the ice packs to his side by pinning them with his arm. “There was no need for this.”

She was about to snap a comeback when she realized he'd come to her precisely because she'd fuss over him, no matter what he must've told himself to the contrary. Her throat tightened. “Humor me,” she said, stroking his hair off his forehead. “You need a haircut.” He'd always worn it very short, a sharp military cut.

“I'll razor it off tonight.”

“Don't. I kind of like it this longer length.” It brushed his nape, not too long but long enough to run her fingers through.

He looked up to meet her gaze. The moment stretched as she stroked the long front strands to the side. “I could just trim these bits that are getting in your eyes.”

“All right.”

The simple acceptance made her stomach drop, her protective walls collapse. “Are you up for a walk?” She didn't want to fight with Riley and it was certain that he was going to turn up soon to dress her down for her escape. She couldn't believe Judd hadn't said something already. But then again, he hadn't exactly behaved himself today, either.

He gave her the ice packs. “Wear a coat. It's already dark.”

“What about you?” The defined strength of his forearms drew her eye. Her hunger to stroke him was almost painful. Why didn't he feel that same need?

“I'll get my jacket and meet you at the garden door.”

Ten minutes later, they walked openly past the White Zone and into the inner perimeter—she hoped her brothers would get the hint.

Judd led her to a private spot before stopping. “Talk to me.”

It didn't surprise her that he knew the real reason she'd asked him to come out here. She took a seat on a fallen log while Judd leaned his muscular form against a tree across from her, seeming to blend into the deep ebony of early evening in the Sierra.

“I'm messing up my family,” she said, admitting the truth. “Drew and Riley—did you see their faces yesterday? They think they're losing me.” To insanity.

“They're adults, they'll deal with it.”

“Will they? Look at how they react every time I try to reclaim my independence.” It was the flip side of their intensely loyal natures, a protectiveness that could destroy.

“They want to keep you safe.”

She stared, incredulous. “You're taking their side?”

“In this one case, they're correct. You need to be protected from your own will.” His voice was pure steel. “You could hurt yourself in your rush to fix things.”

“Men!” It was a snarl as she got up and began to pace up and down beside the log. “You're supposed to support me, remember?”

“Only in public,” he said with cool Psy logic. “If you want total obedience, get a dog.”

She kicked snow in his direction. Caught by surprise, Judd deflected it with Tk. It just made her madder. “That's cheating.”

“I wasn't aware this was a test.” He remained unmoving as she strode over to stand in front of him, cheeks flushed red. Things went tight in his body, his skin stretching taut. Such passion in her, such anger. “You're beautiful,” he said, disregarding the sudden spike of dissonance, the violent warning that he was too close to losing control of the horror that was his “gift.”

She snorted. “I'm not that easily led.”

Scowling, she turned to stride back to the log. His eyes found themselves drawn to the sway of her hips, to the lush bottom encased in tight jeans that showed off every defiant feminine curve. More sparks of pain, further warning signals. But that wasn't what made him raise his eyes to her face. It was her abrupt stillness.

He straightened, his senses flaring out. “The leopards.” He knew their psychic signature now, could distinguish it from wolf.

“They're here.” Her voice was a whisper. “And I don't think they're happy.”

“Go back and get Hawke. I'll hold them.”

Not arguing, she turned and took off at high speed. Judd moved in the direction where he'd sensed the DarkRiver leopards. They were waiting on the other side of a small clearing. Lucas, Sascha, Dorian, and Mercy. Mercy, Judd didn't know well, but he considered Dorian one of the most dangerous changelings in either pack—the DarkRiver male lacked the ability to change into leopard form, but that meant nothing. On the night of Brenna's rescue, Judd had seen the sentinel tear Enrique to pieces with his bare hands.

“You shouldn't be here.” They'd broken the rules. The two packs had an alliance and had given each other the right to move freely in their territorial lands, but to come this close to the den with no prior notice was a sign of aggression.

Lucas waved Dorian and Mercy off when they made a move to cover him. But
he
went in front of his mate. Sascha scowled but didn't say anything.

“If we'd wanted war, we would've been in the den by now.” The markings on Lucas's face—as if he'd been slashed by the claws of some great beast—were dark with blood. “We're here to talk.”

“Then we wait.” Judd took a position on the other side of the snowy clearing, marking an invisible line in the snow.

One that wasn't broken when Hawke and his lieutenants arrived. Brenna, too, had returned. She took a position to his left while the others went to his right, flanking Hawke. The SnowDancer alpha took a step forward. “Lucas, this sure as hell better be something good.”

Lucas mirrored Hawke's move, his face a mask of fury. “There was an attack on the DawnSky deer clan. They were butchered.”

Hawke growled low in his throat. “How many dead?”

“Nine adults, three children.” Lucas's markings became even more delineated. “Would've been more, but Faith had a partial vision and managed to get out a warning. Mercy and Dorian were close enough to intervene. Tamsyn and Nate are out there picking up the pieces.”

Judd watched as Sascha slid her hand into her mate's, leaning against him but staying partly behind his back—giving comfort while not distracting him by becoming an open target. Lucas's fingers closed around Sascha's. “It was a planned slaughter. Six armed Psy against a herd of deer out for a graze.”

Judd knew from living with the wolves that deer were one of the most peaceful of all changelings. They were also very weak in terms of physical strength. “Why?” he asked, though experience told him the presence of a Psy assassin probably infuriated the leopard alpha. “The Council always has a reason—they think five steps ahead.”

Lucas's voice was close to a growl when he answered. “I went out to the site. There was a pretty slick attempt to mark the bodies as wolf kills—looks like they had weapons shaped to mimic claws. The bodies were shredded, but a very fine scent was somehow layered into two of the deer. Mercy and Dorian must've interrupted the murdering bastards before they could do the other bodies.”

“If the deer had all died,” Hawke said, a low growl in his tone, “no one would've been left to point fingers at the Psy. It would've been on us.”

“Changing your reputation from powerful but fair, to that of indiscriminate killers.” Judd glanced at the sentinels who stood behind Lucas. “Did you tag any of the Psy?”

Mercy looked at her alpha and answered only after his nod. “We saw them leaving but made the choice to help the injured rather than give chase. They hid their trail like experts and the deer are too traumatized to be of much help in terms of descriptions—they're schoolteachers and accountants, not soldiers.”