LustUndone (12 page)

What do I do when he doesn’t need me anymore? When I
don’t have any excuse for hanging around? Where will I go then?

He brushed the thoughts out of his mind and dragged out a
smile. “That filthy poison ready yet?”

Frenchy smiled. “Say all you want but it keeps the blood
flowing.”

“I forgot to tell you, but Sophia Black’s in town. She said
hello.”

“I always liked that girl.” Frenchy filled both mugs and
carried one to the table, lowering himself into a chair. “Terrible thing about
her nephews that time.” He sipped the coffee. “About all of them.”

“They never found whoever did it?”

Frenchy shook his head. “Sophia had a theory that whatever
it was, it wasn’t quite human, but you know the no-nonsense Yankee mentality.
They blew her out of the water.”

“That why she left?” Clint lifted his own mug, took a
swallow of the dark brew.

“Maybe part of it. But I heard she got a job offer with some
private outfit for a lot of money. Someplace in Texas.”

“Well, she’s definitely back. And I don’t think Bobby
Lacroix and the rest of the detectives are any too happy about it.”

Frenchy cut him a quick glance. “People saying stuff? You
hear it at The Crown?”

Clint shrugged. “This and that. Just some low-level
grumbling.”

The two men looked at each other. “They might do well to
listen to her,” Frenchy said at last.

“So what’s her theory, anyway?”

Frenchy leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs.
“Ever heard of the Chupacabra?”

Clint grunted. “Yeah. Plenty of stories running around the
swamps and bayous when I was a kid. Some thought it was a genetic hybrid. Maybe
some kind of shifter.”

“You might try getting a little friendly with Sophia. Enough
so she’ll tell you the how and why of it. She did a lot of research when those
boys were killed.”

“We’ll see.” Oh, he was getting real friendly with Sophia
Black, all right, but conversation wasn’t at the top of his activity list with
her. “I think I’ll cut some more wood. We’re running pretty low and there’s a
chance another storm might blow in.”

“Good, good.” He shifted in his chair. “You know I’ve been
real glad to have you here these past months, don’t you?”

Clint nodded. “And I’m happy to be here.”

“You can’t hide out here forever, boy. You need to find a
way to make a life for yourself.”

Clint’s laugh had little humor to it. “Easier said than
done.” He drained the coffee and rinsed the mug. “I’ll cut the wood, then
shower and get into town.”

“I think tomorrow I might like to come in for a little
while. Believe it or not I’ve really missed that place.”

“We’ll work it out.”

There was another reason Clint wanted the physical exertion
of splitting logs. He’d awakened with thoughts of Sophia on his brain and an
incredible hard-on tenting his sweats. He’d been forced to throw on a heavy
flannel shirt before he left the bedroom, one that hid the thrust of his cock
against fabric. He hoped the physical exercise would be enough to diminish it
but when his whole body was still ramped up he decided to go for a short run.

Checking first on Frenchy, he folded his clothes on the
kitchen chair, walked back onto the porch and allowed his body to stretch and
elongate, let the fur sprout to cover his skin. Then he was off, racing through
the sunshine, darting through trees. He had to be careful. No telling who would
be out during the daylight, even though he ran through a deserted area.

He was startled when he heard the heavy whine of a
snowmobile, moving to the shelter of some thick trees as it went past about a
hundred yards away. Clint held himself perfectly still when it stopped
unexpectedly and the driver looked around.

Sophia!

Shit. Just what he didn’t need.

He lowered himself to the ground, using the snow for as much
cover as he could, hardly daring to breathe until she kicked the engine to life
and roared off again. When he was sure she was out of the area he headed for
home, fast. That had been far too close for comfort.

Back in the house he stepped into the shower, realizing as
he soaped his body that he was still as rigid as when he woke up. The log
splitting and the run had done nothing to diminish the swelling of his cock. In
fact, seeing Sophia had just the opposite effect.

Standing under the hot stream, he closed his eyes and called
up the image of her naked in her bed, legs spread wide, pussy lips swollen and
glistening. Eyes glowing with the heat of her desire. Felt again her burning
flesh hugging him. God, he wanted to fuck her right now more than he wanted his
next breath.

He groaned and wrapped his fingers around his aching cock.
He really wanted it buried to the hilt inside Sophia’s wet, hot sheath, not in
his hand which had served him far too many times. But as he remembered the feel
of her tightly clasped around him, the taste of her, the pressure of her
diamond-hard pebbles against his chest, his hand automatically fell into the
familiar rhythm.

He slid his other hand between his thighs to cup his balls,
squeezing them as he stroked himself, imagining instead Sophia’s touch. Up and
down, from the root to the tip, calling up the feel of her slim fingers as she
grasped him. Of her hot, wet mouth as she’d sucked him in. Felt himself swell
even more in his grasp.

His breathing quickened and his heart rate increased as the
pressure built inside his body, uncoiling from low in his belly to spring
through him. More quickly than he expected the orgasm broke over him and he
erupted, the semen spilling over his fingers, his cock jumping in his hand.

He gritted his teeth as the spasms rocked him, leaning
against the wall of the shower for support, his body limp and drained. When it
was over he drew in a deep, shuddering breath and used the techniques he’d
learned in the military to pull himself together. Quickly soaping himself
again, he rinsed off, turned off the water and stepped out to dry himself off.

He’d had erotic fantasies before. Who hadn’t? But usually
the woman was either faceless or someone from an X-rated movie. Never before
about a person he’d actually met in real life. Someone he actually knew. In
forty-eight hours Sophia Black was entrenched in his blood and he didn’t see
any way to get her out. There was, however, the little matter of his dual
nature. How did you say to a woman, “Hold tight here while I change into a
wolf?”

Of course if she was predisposed to believe in creatures
other than fully human it might not be so bad. The question was, would she
still want him? Want to be with him?

Forget it, asshole. When she’s done here she’ll go back
to Texas or wherever she’d moved to and he’d be little more than a blip on her
radar screen.

But Clint had a lot of reasons to believe life could change
in the blink of an eye. Maybe it would this time, too.

* * * * *

They decided to begin just outside Presque Isle, not far
from Darrell Franklin’s fish camp. So much of northern Aroostook County was
raw, undeveloped land, dotted with tiny hamlets of very few people and precise
squares of uninhabited tax parcels.

One of the snowmobile trails began about a half mile from
Franklin’s place, at an open parking area that thankfully had been recently
plowed. They unloaded the snowmobiles then looked at the map Sophia opened and
spread out on the hood of one of the machines.

“We’ll have to crisscross,” she said, tracing red lines with
her fingers. “And there’s only so much area we can cover today.” She slid a
glance at Logan. “Unless we split up.”

“Not even an option.” His tone of voice was firm. “Let’s
cross off the most unlikely places first and then start with the others.
Remember, we’re looking for two things—evidence that the beast is in the area
and likely targets for the next attack. Based on previous experience I’d say
we’ve probably got another forty-eight hours at most.”

Rebecca pulled on her gloves. “Then we’d best get busy.”

It didn’t take long to get the snowmobiles unloaded and
ready to roll. Rebecca handed out radios to each of them.

“Long range,” she explained. “Top of the line. Good for more
than sixty miles.”

“We definitely don’t need that distance,” Logan reminded
her.

“I know, but we need to split up a little bit or we won’t
get any territory covered. Let’s take a look at the population map and each of
us can take a sector. And check in with each other every ten minutes.” She
looked up at him. “Will that work?”

Sophia could tell Logan didn’t like it but he couldn’t argue
with Rebecca’s logic.

“Fine. But we keep to the designated areas. Let’s set these
all to the same channel.”

Ten minutes later their radios were synced, rifles were
strapped to the snowmobiles and everyone had taken extra ammo for their
handguns.

“We’ll meet back here in two hours,” Logan said. “Get some
lunch, regroup and head for the next area.”

The two women nodded, they all mounted up and soon the air
was filled with the whine and growl of the big Sno-Cats as they headed across
the landscape, snow flying behind them like rooster tails.

* * * * *

Bobby had given them each maps of the area with the potato
farms and other isolated residences marked. Although Aroostook County was only
two percent of the total area of the State of Maine, it was still comprised of
two thousand square miles. A lot of area to cover. Of course, there was a
significant amount they’d discounted. Areas where no one lived at all, not even
reclusive hermits. That at least narrowed down the field to an almost
manageable size.

Logan was not happy about the three of them splitting up,
something he’d specifically said he wanted to avoid. But the women had
overruled him, reminding him they were both police officers, expert with
firearms and far more alert for the Chupacabra than anyone else around here. He
couldn’t argue with Rebecca’s logic.

“We know what we’re looking for,” Sophia reminded him.
“We’re not going to take any chances. And we’ve got these.” She held up the long-range
radios Rebecca had signed out for them.

“We won’t take any chances,” Rebecca repeated.

So he’d allowed himself to be persuaded and now was riding
the big machine through the pristine cover of snow broken only by animal
tracks. He tensed every time he caught the flash of a deer or raccoon among the
trees. The beast was out here somewhere, he knew it, and every sense in his
body was on high alert. At least a dozen times he slowed and reached for the
rifle, only to discover it was native wildlife spooking him.

But he sensed it, out there somewhere. It could be yards
away or miles, but he felt its evil presence. And he wasn’t about to let
himself suffer the same fate as his brother and sister-in-law.

He rode for more than fifteen minutes before he saw the
first house, a white frame building with a peaked roof sitting next to a huge
matching barn. The surrounding land according to Logan’s map was potato farm,
now hibernating beneath the heavy weight of the snow. He knew potatoes were
planted two to three weeks before the last anticipated freeze of the season and
harvested from August through October. Then the land was plowed under and
allowed to sleep during the winter.

He wondered what the potato farmers did to pass the time in
the winter. For himself he knew he’d go absolutely nuts with nothing to do.

There appeared to be a path shoveled from the house to the
barn, and inside the barn itself he spotted a man in protective winter gear
working on some kind of heavy machinery. He turned as Logan pulled up to the
open door, casually reaching for the shotgun he had propped against the
machine.

“No need for that,” Logan called, holding his hands out. “My
name’s Logan Tanner and I’m working with the Maine State Police. If you’ll
allow me, I’ll show you my identification.”

“Just move real slow,” the man said, holding the shotgun at
the ready. “My finger might get nervous on the trigger here.”

Logan made a show of unbuttoning his shearling-lined jacket,
reaching into the inside pocket and pulling out his ID folder. He climbed
slowly off the snowmobile and walked toward the man, holding it open.”

“That’s far enough,” the man said when Logan was about three
feet from him. “Toss it over here.”

Logan had to hand it to the man. He never took his eyes off
Logan or his finger off the trigger as he stooped to retrieve the wallet then
scan it briefly.

“Sorry about that.” He walked up and handed it back. “Since
Darrell Franklin got killed you can’t be too careful.”

“I’m glad to see that. As a matter of fact, that’s one of
the reasons I’m out today. Warning people off the beaten path to take extra
precautions.”

The man held out his hand. “George Duffield. Thanks for
coming by.” He hefted the rifle. “As you can see, I’m prepared.”

Logan tried to figure out how to frame his next words.
“We’re really not sure at this point if the killer is human or wild animal.
Don’t open your doors to anyone and don’t take anything for granted, even if it
seems familiar.”

Duffield frowned. “I thought the word out had it was some
kind of crazed killer with a weird tool of some kind.”

“We don’t know exactly yet. That’s why we’re all out trying
to make sure everyone has their guard up.”

“I’ll pass it along to the folks I talk to, also. Thanks for
coming all this way.” He chuckled. “Pretty isolated out here.”

Logan grinned back at him. “I’m from Montana originally.
We’ve got a lot of open spaces out there, too!”

Logan headed out again, sparing a moment to hope the women
were okay. He was struck by the vivid image of Rebecca as she’d mounted the
Sno-Cat, eyes sparkling, energy radiating from her body. Every time he looked
at her his cock stood up at attention and want coursed through his body. He had
to keep reminding himself that she was off-limits. Besides being Sophia’s
sister she had a job and a life here. And he was a shifter. Just because Sophia
accepted all of them didn’t mean Rebecca felt the same way. Or would accept one
as a lover.