Tempting Danger (14 page)

“Your father.”

“Yes. Can you give your word to hold confidential everything you observe that isn’t directly applicable to your case?”

“I’ve never heard of an outsider being allowed, much less invited, to attend a lupi ceremony. Why me?”

Rule gave her the truth—or part of it. “I want you to trust me.”

Her index finger tapped the table as she thought it over. Not much given to impulse, his
nadia.
Finally she gave a brisk nod. “All right. You have my word. What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at eleven.”

“No, I’ll pick you up. Where will I find you?”

“I prefer to drive myself.”

“So do I.”

Why did that not surprise him? “We don’t always get what we want, do we? You won’t—ah, thank you.” The waitress was back with their coffee and water. She’d spritzed herself with a musky scent. Long practice kept him from wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Sharon, I think you forgot my companion’s cream.”

She blinked. “Oh. Oh, right.” She dug into a pocket on her thigh and pulled out two containers of a substance that had never been within shouting distance of a cow. “Here. Be right back with your burgers,” she told Rule with a smile and started to move away.

A man in the table nearest their booth grabbed her arm. He was young, with buzz-cut brown hair. The two other men at the table were slightly older. “Sharon, if that guy gives you any trouble,” he said loudly, “you let me know.”

She blinked, confused. “Uh, sure. But he isn’t—”

“I know what he is.” The young cop gave Rule a hard look, then turned it on Lily, though he still pretended to be talking to the waitress. “I also know you’ve got too much self-respect to hang out with his kind.”

Rule tensed. Lily wouldn’t thank him for smashing the pup’s face in, but—

“Hey, Crowder,” Lily said loudly. “Got a tissue?”

One of the older men at the table looked taken aback but recovered quickly. “Nah. Didn’t bring my purse.” The other man snickered.

Lily shook her head sadly. “You ought to be better prepared.” She pulled her purse onto the table and ostentatiously dug inside it. “Here,” she said—and tossed him a packet of tissues. “Wipe behind your trainee’s ears, Crowder. He’s dripping.”

That brought a round of laughter—and not just from the three men at the table. The young cop flushed and released Sharon’s elbow.

“You handled that well,” Rule said.

She grimaced, broke open the coffee creamer packet, and emptied it into her coffee. “I didn’t realize it would be this bad. I wonder if this is how a white woman felt in Alabama thirty years ago if she ate with a black man.”

“Not quite that bad, I hope. Our fellow customers aren’t likely to drag me into the alley and beat me up.”

“I don’t suppose they could, unless they drew on you. There are parallels, though, aren’t there?” She sipped her coffee, eyeing him over the rim of the mug. “The civil rights movement opened doors for lupi that would have remained closed otherwise.”

“True. If people hadn’t started refusing to sit in the back of the bus, measures like the Species Citizenship Bill wouldn’t be possible now. I need to talk to you about that. First, though, have you given any thought to going out with me?”

She sputtered into laughter. “Does the head-on approach usually work for you?” She shook her head, amusement fading. “It’s not going to happen, Turner. You’re lovely to look at. Charming, too, if a bit cocky.”

“Cocky is for puppies.”

“Did I mention arrogant? Never mind. It doesn’t matter how pretty or charming you are—you’re not worth tossing my career out the window.”

“Is that what would happen?” He paused, then nodded. “I see. That makes things difficult for both of us.”

“There is no ‘us.’ I’d like to ask you some questions.”

“I hope they’re personal.”

“About lupi. Does the full moon force a lupus to Change?”

The temptation to keep pushing her was almost irresistible, but he wasn’t here to indulge himself. He sighed. “To business, then. The full moon affects all of us, but only forces Change on young lupi. Like most adolescents, they have to learn control.”

“So the Change is volitional?”

“Generally.”

The pucker between her brows suggested she’d marked his evasion, but she didn’t pursue it. “What about very young lupi? Children lack control.”

“The Change arrives with puberty, not before.”
That startled her. Good.
“I hope you won’t put that in your report. It’s not exactly general knowledge.”

“I’m aware of that,” she said slowly. “Why did you tell me?”

“I’m cooperating. Would it be possible for me to see Fuentes’s body?”

“Good grief. Why?”

“There’s an outside chance I might be able to scent his killer. If not, I could still pick up information that wouldn’t be obvious to others.”

Her finger began tapping the table again. “What sort of information?”

“The wounds might give me some idea of the nature of the killer—first, whether he really was a lupus, as you are assuming. Also whether he was an adolescent or a berserker.”

“Berserker. That sounds ominous. Is that a certain type of lupus?”

“More like a condition. Rare, fortunately.”

“Speaking of rare, here comes your burger. Hope she remembered mine.”

Sharon wafted up on a cloud of musk, smiling shyly, and delivered two enormous hamburgers on plates piled high with french fries. She lingered a moment, fussing with the condiments, asking if Rule wanted anything else. More coffee, maybe? Another customer called to her to bring the coffeepot his way. Sharon sighed and departed.

Rule waited until she was out of earshot to say, “I’ve often wondered why human men like women to smell like the musk gland of a male deer.”

“I take it you’re not fond of perfume.” Lily spread mayonnaise on the bun. “Hey. I’ve misjudged Sharon. She remembered my pickles.”

“She’s just a little starstruck. I’m probably the only lupus she’ll ever meet. Knowingly, at least.”

“Hmm.” The pickles were thick wedges, not slices. There were six of them. She cut them neatly to fit, then began layering them on top of the meat. “In every picture of you I’ve seen, you’re wearing black. You wore black last night. You’re wearing it today. That’s on purpose, isn’t it? You want people to recognize you. You want them to know they’re meeting a lupus.”

“Black is good theater,” he admitted. “Are you really going to eat that?”

“You like raw meat. I like pickles.” She set the top of the bun on her pickle mountain. “You do the mystery bit well—sex, sophistication, the allure of the forbidden or the dangerous. It’s on purpose, isn’t it? That’s the image you want people to associate with lupi. Glamour, not bestiality. You’ve made yourself into a poster boy for your people.”

His lip curled. “Why, thank you.”

She grinned. “Starting to believe your image?”

“Maybe I really am sexy, sophisticated and—how did you put it? Full of the allure of the forbidden.”

“Full of something, anyway.”

He grinned back, enjoying her, and reached for the ketchup. “What about you, Lily? Do you believe your image?”

“I don’t have an image.”

“Sure you do. The tough, cynical cop.”

“No, that’s the real me. No secrets . . . well, maybe one or two.” Suddenly all the fun leaked out of her expression. “But not on your scale. I don’t keep any kids tucked out of sight so they won’t spoil the image.”

LILY
thought he was going to jump her. The fury that leaped into his eyes looked like violence about to happen.

For a long moment he didn’t move, didn’t speak. At last he asked, low and silky, “How do you know about my son?”

Her mouth was dry. It infuriated her. “You don’t want the police to be aware of him?”

“I forgot I was talking to the police. Foolish of me. No, I don’t want the police to know about him. I don’t want anyone outside the clan to know about him—though not for the reason you suggested.” His lip curled. “What an interesting opinion you have of me.”

She’d hurt him. The notion shocked her, and immediately she tried to reason it away.

He wasn’t a serious suspect now. Too many witnesses placed him at Club Hell at 9:30, and Therese and her cell phone proved Fuentes was still alive at 9:50. So maybe she’d relaxed too much. She’d let things get too casual, too friendly. Maybe, for some ungodly reason, she actually liked this man. She’d felt bad for him, talking about how he missed the Change. What had happened to wrest his magic from him? Could he get it back? She couldn’t ask.

But she didn’t know him, not really, nor did he know her. Her opinion couldn’t matter. And yet . . . “I crossed a line,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“My son isn’t part of your investigation.” He tossed his napkin on the table, slid out of the booth, and pulled out his wallet.

She slid out and stood, too. “You don’t have to—”

“I invited you. I’ll pay.” He threw a couple bills on the table. “
Bon appétit,
Detective. If you wish to see Clanhome, be at your headquarters building at ten-thirty tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you up.”

He left to the same silent chorus of stares that had greeted his arrival.

Okay,
Lily thought, picking up her hamburger and trying to take some interest in eating it.
Looks like I blew that one.
She was chewing a tasteless bite when Crowder came up.

“Lost your date?” He slid in across from her without asking.

“I’m trying to have supper here.”

“You go right ahead,” he said, and dragged one of the fries on Rule’s plate through the ketchup. “Got any mustard?”

“No.” She deliberately took another bite.

“Oh, there it is.” He pulled the squeeze bottle over and squirted a thick yellow stream on the bun. “Be better with some onion,” he said, fitting the bun on top, “but I’m not picky.”

“The meat’s rare.”

“Like I said, I’m not picky.” He took a huge bite.

She sighed and put her hamburger down. “You aren’t going away, are you?”

“Nope.” He chewed, then wiped his mouth. “Wanted to apologize for Tucker. Kid’s wet behind the ears, just like you said. Thing is . . . well, I thought you ought to know. Someone’s been shooting his mouth off. Tucker’s too green to take what he hears with a grain of salt.”

“Talking?” Her stomach felt tight. “About me?”

He nodded and disposed of another fourth of the burger in one bite, chewed, and swallowed. “Nothing that bad, just . . . you know. Talk. About you and Turner, the effect his kind have on women. That sort of thing.”

“Who?” she demanded. Dammit, she’d only been on the case since last night. “Who’s talking me down?”

Crowder shook his head. “I don’t like to say. You know how it is.”

Yeah, she knew. You were one of the guys—right up until you weren’t. Locker room talk was still governed by the high school code: don’t repeat it to the girls. Probably just as well, a lot of the time, or none of the women on the force would be able to stand working with a lot of the men.

Crowder had bent those unspoken rules by coming over here. “Thanks for the warning.”

“No problem.” He polished off the burger. “Would’ve been better with onions,” he said, and pushed to his feet. “You take care, now.”

“Yeah. Stay safe.”

Crowder ambled back to his table, leaving Lily thinking furiously. Crowder worked the same shift she did. Who knew about her case that might have been in the locker room at the end of shift, shooting his mouth off?

She grimaced. Too many possibilities. But she couldn’t help remembering the way Mech had tried to protect her from being alone with Turner.
Don’t jump to conclusions,
she warned herself.

But the ugly thought had destroyed any hope of forcing more of her meal down. She grabbed her purse and scooted out of the booth.

“The food wasn’t good?” The starstruck waitress stood in front of Lily, her eyes dark with anger and disappointment.

It wasn’t the food she was worried about. Lily sighed. “The food was fine, but he had to leave. And so do I.”

Sharon shook her head. “Take my advice, and don’t go running after him. Make him come to you. Not that I blame you.” She sighed. “That man just radiates sex. Like a stove. I’ll bet he—okay, okay!” she called to someone else wanting her attention. “Be right there.” She smiled kindly at Lily. “My momma always said, if you can’t play hard to get, then just play. Have fun.” She patted Lily on the arm and hurried off.

Lily stared after her. She had definitely misjudged Sharon.

She forced her mind back to business.

 

 

PAIN
was a dull, sullen presence, hardly compelling. But something else pushed at Cullen, telling him it was time. Time to wake up.

He stirred. Something hard beneath him . . . hard, it was so hard, to wake up. Shouldn’t be. He’d been . . . he was . . .