Authors: D. B. Reynolds
Heart of the Wolf (6 page)
“What makes you think someone wants her dead?”
Ren found himself momentarily speechless, which was not a common occurrence for him. “Someone shot at her. I’d say that means they want her dead.”
“But they missed.”
He shrugged. “It was a long shot on a cold, windy day.”
“Or maybe it was never intended to hit her.”
Ren frowned. “What are you suggesting?”
“Did you know Kathryn and her bodyguard are lovers? Tommy Nordan—the big gorilla who never leaves her side. He lives in that penthouse with her, never even takes a day off.”
Ren surprised himself by feeling absolutely nothing. Maybe because he was certain it wasn’t true. “Let’s say that’s true,” he said out loud. “I still don’t see how it explains the shooter.”
“It’s all for the press, of course. Brave bodyguard saves lonely widow. Who would question it if she falls in love with him after that? He’s an ex-con. Did time upstate for aggravated assault. Not exactly the kind of husband someone with the Avinger money brings around to charity balls. But if he saves her life, suddenly he’s a hero and his unsavory past is wiped away.”
Ren had never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. “Seems like a lot of trouble,” he commented. “I’d think that much money would buy acceptance without all the dramatics.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Westgate said thoughtfully. “Especially these days. Class isn’t what it used to be, is it?” He stood up suddenly. Ren tensed, but the lawyer only walked around his desk to the opposite wall where a small safe was recessed into a built-in shelving unit. “There is another possibility,” he said. “One that might have earned Kathryn some enemies neither you nor I would understand.”
The safe door stood open, and Westgate pulled out a thin plastic case that he opened to extract a
“I think you’ll find this interesting, Roesner.”
Curious, Ren joined the other man in front of the screen as a video began to play. It was a bedroom with expensive furniture and satin sheets, or maybe silk. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting. A woman was there, pacing back and forth in obvious agitation, hands fisted at her sides, her slender figure obvious, despite the pair of loose sweats she was wearing. The woman stopped abruptly, her hands coming up as her body curled into itself, shoulders rounding, head bowed as if in pain. A low, keening sound filled the room, and she fell to her knees, her back arching so sharply Ren could hear vertebrae popping. He froze in disbelief as he registered what he was seeing. The woman was Wolf, and she was about to shift on camera.
Clearly aware she was being filmed, the woman kept her back turned, concealing her identity as the shift took control of her body. She screamed, her voice filled with anger as well as pain, her body contorting as it took on its new shape, the loose clothing shredding and falling away.
A full moon, Ren thought.
It had to have been the night of a full moon. She’d never have done it otherwise. Not if she had a choice.
“Don’t you recognize her?” Westgate said softly, his eyes glued to the video.
Ren gave the other man a sharp look before studying the video more closely. On-screen, the female wolf spun around and snarled at the camera. Ren’s breath caught in his throat. Kathryn. It was Kathryn. He fought back the howl of rage that threatened to choke him.
“Interesting, don’t you think?” The video froze on Kathryn’s face. “How much do you think the lovely Mrs. Avinger would pay to keep something like this private?”
“She was trapped in that room,” Ren growled, fighting for control.
Westgate gave him a chiding look. “Of course. Look at her, Roesner. She’s an animal.
Preston
had to deal with this monstrosity every full moon,” he said, lifting his chin to indicate Kathryn’s snarling visage. “Clichéd, I know, but quite true. He was terrified when he discovered what he’d married. But even then, he didn’t divorce her.”
“Why not?” Ren demanded.
Westgate shrugged. “A cynic would say it was the money. And there
was
a generous prenup, of course, but no court would have held him to it, given the circumstances. But
Preston
was a very vain man, and Kathryn is quite beautiful. Most of the time, anyway. He loved walking into a room with her at his side and knowing every other man there was watching with envy, wondering what it was like to tap that lovely ass anytime he wanted.”
Ren fisted his hands to avoid strangling the man to death. “Have you shared this”—he gestured at the video—“with anyone else?”
“Oh, no, of course not. It’s not only her reputation at stake, it’s
Preston
’s, too, and he was a friend. But I thought as long as you’re
investigating,
your client might find this interesting. I know who you are, Mr. Roesner.” Ren doubted that was true, but Westgate was still talking. “I know you’ve been brought in from out of state to pry into this whole matter, although I don’t know who’s paying you—not yet anyway. I don’t suppose you’d like to share?”
Ren gave him a cold stare.
“No, I didn’t think so. Goes with the job, I suppose. In any event, I’m sure whoever’s paying you is interested in dirt, and this is certainly dirty, wouldn’t you say?”
“Are you saying this is for sale?”
“Everything’s for sale, Roesner. Even you, or you wouldn’t be here.”
Ren held perfectly still, afraid if he moved even the tiniest bit, he’d kill the asshole for sure. “I’ll need proof for my client,” he said, complimenting himself on his calm. “This will do nicely.” He ejected the
“That’s a copy, of course,” Westgate said gently.
“Of course. So how much for the original?”
“Well, no need to be greedy, I suppose. On the other hand, Kathryn is now a
very
wealthy woman, and I’m sure—”
“How much?”
“Ten million cash.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Westgate, no one has that much cash. Ten million electronic.”
“Well. It is quite the video, isn’t it? Ten million electronic, then, to a bank of my choice.” Westgate couldn’t quite conceal his glee that Ren wasn’t dickering over price. The truth was he could have demanded ten times that amount and Ren would have agreed. The little weasel was never going to enjoy a dime of it, anyway.
Ren kept his face carefully blank. Leave the man his delusions. For now. “I’ll have to verify with my client, of course.”
“Naturally,” Westgate murmured.
“You understand we’re purchasing the original and all copies. I trust you’ve been discreet, that there are no copies out of your possession.”
“I’m still being discreet, Roesner,” the lawyer said in a cold voice. “I didn’t need to go to Kathryn first. The press would have paid millions for this video.” He sniffed prissily. “But as I said, there is a matter of loyalty to
Preston
.”
“Right,” Ren said shortly, feeling unclean just standing next to the scummy bastard. “I’ll be in touch.”
* * * *
On his way through the outer office, the secretary caught his eye. He nodded brusquely and then waited outside, forcing himself to calm down before she appeared a few minutes later.
“Dom brought you in,” she said. It wasn’t a question, which confirmed his earlier assessment. “Listen, Avinger met with someone here right after he got really sick. Not his usual class of person—much rougher around the edges and carrying a gun. I didn’t get a name, but they signed some sort of agreement. Westgate did it up on the computer himself, which is what really made me suspicious. That asshole doesn’t hold his own dick when he pisses. Anyway, the thing is, I never saw the guy again until two days after Avinger died. And now suddenly someone’s shooting at Kathryn.”
Ren eyed her carefully. “Do you have access to the safe in there?” He jerked his head at the office.
“No. There’s a larger safe in a second office where he keeps most of the client documents. That’s the only one I can get into and there’s nothing there. I checked.”
“What about a home safe?”
She frowned. “Maybe.”
“All right, give me his home address, and I’ll pay him a little visit.”
She gave him a vicious grin and said, “I’ll write it down for you. Let’s hope you have to beat the truth out of him.”
Apparently, Westgate hadn’t endeared himself to his secretary either.
Chapter Nine
Ren entered Kathryn’s building from the garage, giving the uniform in the lobby a nod in greeting before stepping into the elevator. He’d driven himself over after a brief stop at his apartment to change into clothes more suitable for the evening he had planned—a turtleneck sweater and black denims, leather jacket and heavy boots. Westgate’s house was across the bay in one of the pricier suburbs of the city and, bad weather or not, Ren wanted to get there tonight. But he had to see Kathryn first.
Marla opened the penthouse door before he could knock, alerted by the doorman downstairs. The housekeeper was still a little twitchy but less nervous of him than she’d been the other night. Maybe because she understood he meant to keep Kathryn alive.
“I’ll tell Mrs. Avinger—” Marla started, but Ren interrupted her.
“Don’t bother. I’ll walk myself back.”
Marla’s protest went unheeded. Tommy was waiting around the corner.
Ren approached the big man carefully, not wanting to make a scene. So far, Tommy and Marla were the only people he’d met in this fucking city who evidenced any loyalty to anyone.
“Tommy,” he said, with a quick nod. “She around?”
“She’s sleeping.”
Ren inhaled, drawing in the essence of Kathryn. She was there, and she was awake. “Not anymore.”
The bodyguard’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but he still didn’t move.
“I can’t help her if she won’t talk to me, Tommy.”
Tommy gave a resigned sigh. “She’s in the bedroom suite. Her
personal
suite,” he clarified. “It’s—”
“I know.” Ren circled past the bodyguard and followed the clear scent down the hall and around the corner to a set of dark red lacquered doors.
Why red? He wondered. Was it something she’d chosen for herself? Was any of this really hers?
He could hear her inside, could smell her awareness of him. He suppressed a groan of mingled desire and frustration, feeling himself harden almost instantly. She was young and female and it was nearly the full moon, a time of hunting and of mating. Ren could feel his wolf revving itself up for battle, heart thumping, blood rushing to muscles and nerves, adrenaline pouring into his system to make him ready to fight, to kill if necessary to claim his mate.
Except she isn’t yours, pal, he reminded himself silently.
The hell she isn’t!
He smiled grimly. Arguing with himself was never a good sign.
He rested his forehead against the door and closed his eyes, fighting for control before knocking softly.
Chapter Ten
Kathryn stared at him over the back of a low sofa on the far side of the room, her eyes wide and pale. She was wrapped in a fringed shawl, and her fingers clutched it in front of her like some sort of shield against him. Her nerves did nothing to calm
his,
and he realized his situation was doing nothing to ease her stress.
He stepped inside and closed the door, raising his hand, palm forward. “Give me a minute,” he said in a rough voice.
“I can shower,” she said quickly and scrambled to get up. “It might—”
The image of her naked body with warm water streaming all over it kicked the testosterone into an even higher gear, and he groaned out loud. “Gods, no,” he pleaded. “Just give me a minute,” he repeated.
Get it together, Roesner. You’re better than this.
He was usually. But this was Kathryn.
“You should be at Clanhome,” he said in a low voice.
She stiffened, her eyes sparking silver with defiance. “So my father could dangle me as a prize for his wolves? No, thank you. I’ll take my chances.”
Ren stared at her through half-lidded eyes and felt his lips draw back. “I’m a wolf, too,” he reminded her.
“Well, but you’re…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked away.
“I’m what, Kathryn?” he growled. It came out as a low rumble of sound, and he heard her heart begin to race, saw a sheen of sweat pop out over her succulent upper lip, her mouth open as her breath shallowed out and she began to pant.
Ren felt his own gut tighten, his cock pressing hard and heavy against the stiff fabric of his jeans. He started toward her, a slow predatory glide, dropping his leather jacket behind him with a shrug.
Kathryn stood there watching him come, seeming frozen beneath his heated gaze. She licked her lips nervously, and he followed the path of her tongue, seeing it in slow motion as it painted first her full upper lip and then the lower, leaving a wet gleam behind.