Never Cry Wolf (6 page)

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Authors: Cynthia Eden

BOOK: Never Cry Wolf
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Interesting. Not quite the delicate little flower she appeared to be. Good.
“She also killed a coyote.” Jess pointed to the window. This time, Lucas glanced up, too. He saw Sarah, her palm pressed against the glass. “She and that charmer lover of hers—they set him up and they
fucking killed him.
”
Sarah’s stare met Lucas’s.
After a moment, he turned back to Jess. But Jess was still looking up at her, and pointing with his claws out. “I owe her payback. That bitch is
mine.
”
“No,” he said softly, “she’s mine.”
“The fuck you say! You can’t—”
“You took care of the men who attacked me.” He smiled and let his fangs flash. “I’ll take care of the one who murdered your man.”
Jess’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll kill her?”
“Sometimes death is the easy part,” he murmured.
Jess laughed at that, a low, rumbling laugh that groaned in his throat. “Damn straight. Make her suffer.”
So it really wasn’t about money for the coyote. It was about pain. Interesting.
“Now, Jess, I hope you don’t mind . . .”
Actually, I don’t give a shit if you do.
“But get the fuck off my land.”
Jess jerked his head, but didn’t move. “I’ll want proof.”
The guy just kept pushing. “You’ll have it.”
“By tomorrow?”
“That’s hardly enough time to play.”
Jess locked his teeth and gritted, “Tomorrow night.” Lucas inclined his head. “Deal.” So this was what it felt like when you bargained with the devil.
Jess spun away and headed for the first truck. Giving his back as a target really wasn’t his brightest move. But then, Jess had never claimed to be a genius, just a tough coyote who’d once sold out his own brother so he could take the position of pack alpha.
Loyalty. Didn’t it matter anymore?
Jess climbed into the passenger side of the truck. Raised his hand. The trucks roared to life and the tires spun on the gravel drive. Lucas was aware of Dane moving toward the trees. Moving fast.
Good. Dane would follow the coyotes. He’d watch them, and he’d see just who the bastards were aligning with in this town.
When the dust cleared, he turned back to face the house. Piers stood a few feet behind him.
“You believe anything he said was true?” He jerked his thumb back toward the house. “Did she really kill a coyote?”
“Maybe.” Not like he could judge. He’d killed a coyote, too. And so had Jess . . . funny that the bastard was demanding vengeance when he’d just killed two of his own men.
Of course, Sarah was human. Pack took care of pack, but when humans tried to hunt . . .
“And what about Rafe?” Piers whistled. “You buy that she went after him with a silver knife?”
Now that gave him pause. “We didn’t search her when she came in.” The woman had looked so defenseless. Fucking mistake on his part.
“Shit.” Piers’s eyes widened. “You think she’s still got the knife.”
“I think I’m not going to be taking any more chances with our charmer.” He glanced back up at that window and found her gaze on him. “No chances at all.”
 
“The coyotes left.” And there hadn’t been a giant, all-out brawl below her. She exhaled on a hard breath that fogged the glass. “That’s great, right?”
Michael didn’t answer.
She turned and elbowed him. “Right?”
“Dane’s following them.”
She glanced back through the window, squinting. Night was falling so fast now, she could barely see anything. “Why?”
“Because I want to see if the coyotes really are teaming up with Rafe.” Lucas’s deep voice filled the room.
Sarah whirled around. “You shook his hand.” She’d seen that part clearly, and she’d taken the punch right in her gut. “I
told
you that the coyotes wanted to take you out and you stood there and shook a coyote alpha’s hand?” She marched toward him, anger humming through her. “I didn’t think you’d be such an easy mark.”
“I’m not.” Deadly quiet.
Wait—was that some kind of warning about the coyotes or was he saying—
“Get out, Michael. Get to work with Piers.”
Michael nearly ran out of the room.
When the alpha says jump . . . You say how fucking high.
Rafe’s words drifted through her mind as goosebumps rose on her arms. “What happened to the bodies?”
His eyes widened, just the tiniest bit. “You shouldn’t have seen—”
“I didn’t.” Michael had made sure of that. Did they really think she was that fragile? If they only knew. “Did you kill them?”
He leaned in close and his breath feathered over her cheek as he said, “You tell me. Am I a killer?”
Yes.
That’s why she wanted him. No, why she needed him.
He laughed, and the husky rumble just made the goosebumps worse. “This time, I didn’t have to lift a hand. The coyote alpha—”
Jess Ortez. Yeah, she knew the lying asshole.
“—he wanted to make up for . . . offending me. To show that our deal was still in place, he killed the two coyotes who came after me.”
“Your deal?” And the two coyotes from the park were dead? She swallowed.
Don’t think about it, don’t! They would have killed you in a heartbeat.
Hell, they
would
have, if Lucas hadn’t been there.
“I stay in California. He stays in Mexico.” A pause. “For the most part. We stay behind our boundary lines and no one gets ripped apart.” His fingers lifted and brushed down her cheek. “When shifters tangle, the blood flows fast.”
Every part of him seemed to surround her then. His body was too big. His eyes too intense. The wild, woodsy scent that clung to his skin filled her nostrils.
Lucas.
“Jess had a few stories to tell about you.” His finger slid under the curve of her chin, forcing her to keep looking into those bright eyes. “And now I’ve got some more questions for you, Sarah.”
Oh, she just bet he did. But he wouldn’t be able to spot a lie now. Her heartbeat was already racing hard enough to shake her chest.
“Did you kill one of Jess’s men?”
“What?” Not the first question she’d anticipated.
His fingers trailed down her neck. He leaned in close and his lips pressed lightly against the base of her throat. “Did you kill a coyote on your way to find me?”
The tip of his tongue lapped her skin. Her hands flew up and caught his shoulders. Held tight. “No.”
His fingers eased down her shirt, pausing in the hollow between her breasts. “You sure about that? Jess seemed pretty certain you and your charmer lover murdered his coyote.”
Her charmer lover? “John wasn’t . . .”
The back of his hand brushed her breast. She sucked in a sharp breath and realized she had a death grip on his shoulders. Sarah forced her hands to ease their tight hold. “He wasn’t my lover.” Her voice came out too husky and soft.
“But Rafe was?”
“Yes.” So she had a weakness for bad boys. A weakness that was lifting its head again.
Didn’t you learn anything before?
Bad boys were fun for a while, until they turned on you.
His hands were on her body, steady, strong. He eased her back, walking slowly, until her legs bumped against the bed.
“Your lover put a bounty on your head.”
“He didn’t take rejection well.” True, but he also hadn’t wanted her to get away from him, not when she knew so much.
“Um . . .” That growling rumble vibrated from deep in his chest. “How much are you worth to him?”
His fingers skated down her bare arms. The flesh seemed hypersensitive to his touch. “Two hundred grand.”
One brow rose.
“Th-that’s what the coyotes said, you heard them in the park—”
“Coyotes lie.” His lips brushed the hollow of her throat. “And I think you do, too, babe.”
True.
But was lying to protect yourself so wrong? “Three hundred grand.” That really was the truth.
“Dead?” He asked quietly, the whisper at her throat. “Or alive?”
She flinched. “Does it matter?”
“To me, it matters one hell of a lot.” Then he moved, fast, pushing her down and Sarah’s back hit the soft mattress. She didn’t have time to twist or jump out of the way because he was on her instantly, covering her with his body and trapping her on the bed.
“Playtime’s over,” he told her, no sensual heat in his eyes. Just hard, cold wolf.
His voice might have been arctic, but the body pressing against hers seemed to burn with fever, and there was no mistaking the fierce bulge of his cock as it pressed against her.
Sarah’s hands shoved at his shoulders. “I don’t know what you—”
He caught her wrists, held them tight in one hand, then he twisted and his right hand shot down to the bottom of her jeans. Oh, shit, no, he
knew.
It only took about two seconds for his fingers to find the ankle sheath. His eyes glittered down at her.
Fear dried her mouth. “L-Lucas . . .”
I can explain
stuck in her throat.
He pulled out her knife. The light glinted off its sharpened edge. “I’m guessing the blade is made out of silver.” He turned the knife a bit, inspecting it. Then he stretched over her again. The strong hand that held her wrists jerked high, forcing her hands over her head.
And he brought the knife in close. “It
is
silver, right?” Not the handle, or his flesh would be burning, but . . . “Yes, the blade is silver.” The knife was way too close to her throat for comfort.
What do you know about him?
The voice of doubt she’d heard all during that long drive to LA.
What did she know?
That he was a killer.
That he led the most vicious wolf pack on the West Coast. That he’d fought a band of vampires to free his brother.
Loyal.
He might be a walking nightmare to some, but Lucas had protected Jordan. She’d heard that story about him, managed to steal that tale from the minds of the wolves. Lucas had attacked a Born Master Vampire—and Born Masters were the strongest of those blood-sucking vamps—for his brother. He’d risked his life to save Jordan’s.
A guy who did that couldn’t be all bad. Right?
But that blade was
so
close to her throat.
“Have you ever used this knife on anyone?”
He already knew the answer. He’d known that she had the knife, so that meant the coyotes had told him about her and Rafe. “Yes.”
“On your lover?” He shook his head. “Tell me, did Rafe put the bounty on your head before or
after
you tried to take his heart?”
This wasn’t looking good. She sucked in a breath, tried to exhale, and realized her breasts were crushed against his chest.
“Before . . . or after, Sarah?” Harder now, angrier.
“After.” Dammit.
His gaze seemed to bore into hers. “So you come here, you tell me that a rival wolf is out to kill me, that he’s put a bounty on
your
head, but you neglect to mention that you drove a silver knife into the guy’s chest?” He rose above her and his fingers tightened around the knife. “Is this some damn setup? Do you get off on pitting two wolves against each other?”
Oh, hell. “Lucas!”
He threw the knife. It flew, end-over-end, and embedded hilt-deep in the far wall.
“Why did you attack him, Sarah?”
“Because he was trying to kill me,” she snarled because she was afraid and she was tired and she was angry.
Why?
Why’d this hell happen to her? “When a six-foot-four asshole comes at me with claws and fangs, I’m going to fight back.”
“And you just happened to have a silver knife? Handy, having that.”
“John gave me the knife.”
“He told you to use it on Rafe?”
And on you, if it comes to that.
She nodded.
“The coyotes just swore they had my back,” he told her. “The alpha killed the two men who attacked you—he wanted to make amends for their actions.”
Death was the way to make amends? A shiver worked over her flesh.
“Rafe has never come at me,” Lucas said, “Never attacked. I haven’t even heard a whisper that he’s eyeing my territory.”
She couldn’t see anything but him. He was all around her. Hard muscles. Angry eyes. Dark, rumbling voice.
The faint lines around his eyes deepened. “But you come here, and you sneak in a
silver
knife. What were you planning to do? Wait for a moment when I’m weak? Maybe try to stab me when I sleep so you can take me out?”

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