Sadie Hart (4 page)

They slipped past the spidery shadows of the
trees, shrubs scraping at her jeans as she moved into the woods and
towards the scent of sweat, wolf, and blood. Caine caught the scent
too, his growl becoming a deep, vibrating sound that rolled over
her skin like oncoming thunder. A branch snapped ahead and they
both jerked, Caine’s body going stiff, hers spinning as she turned,
gun upraised.

A squirrel darted up a tree.

A shaky breath slid from her. Damn. Heart
pounding, she turned back in the direction they’d been heading and
a flash of white caught her eye. She jerked the gun back up to aim
before her brain registered the paper impaled on a small branch.
The wind blew and it jerked, then started flapping. The sound
hadn’t been there a second ago.

“Shit.” Caine snarled and stalked past her,
his shoulders drawn tight as he circled the tree, nostrils flared
as he dragged in deep breaths that were more wolf-like than human.
A car engine turned over in the parking lot and they sprinted back
towards the Balljoint.

“Dammit!” Caine lashed out as he reached the
edge of the forest, his fist catching the side of a tree. The scent
of burnt rubber filled the evening air.

Ollie tracked the Hunter to a now-empty spot
at the far end of the parking lot, the complete opposite end from
where he’d parked the night he’d abducted Claire Rawson, and the
morning he’d come back. Damn. Spinning on her heel, she stalked
back to the woods, Caine Morgan pacing at her heels.

“He was right here.”

She didn’t even allow herself to think about
that. To think that she’d let him get away again. No. Those were
thoughts that came in the shower, where she could pretend that the
moisture on her face was just water. Not tears. She took a deep
breath, and without touching the paper, let her Hound magick out.
She scanned the sheet for fingerprints, for clues other than the
obvious. The big, bloody handprint in one corner. The scent of
rubber gloves burned her nose, and Ollie knew the handprint would
belong to Claire. She’d be alive, though it wasn’t a full moon
yet.

Stomach clenching, Ollie forced herself to
read the note. In a neat hand the Hunter had left her one line:

The games we play.

Bile rose in her throat, bitter, burning.
That was exactly what he’d been doing. Playing with her. With all
of them. She turned to see Caine leaning against a tree, his gaze
locked on the paper, anger simmering in the near-black of his eyes.
His breathing came slow, tempered, as if it took every ounce of his
control to hold himself there, to keep himself from letting the
boiling rage inside overflow.

“I saw.” A deep shuddering breath rocked
through him as he tilted his head up to stare at the spidery canopy
above, the black crisscross of branches against the dusky sky. He’d
looked away, but he wasn’t fast enough.

She caught a glimpse of pain in his dark
eyes, saw the full, hard brunt of reality hitting him for what was
probably the first time. Ollie took a step towards him, and Caine
flinched, his lips curling back to reveal blunt, white teeth in the
darkness. Still human, but the growl that came out of him
wasn’t.

“That’s what it is. What he does. Everything
is a game. It’s part of the hunt.”

“But he already has her.”

“It’s not—” But she broke the words off. It’s
not about her, she wanted to say but she couldn’t, and the moment
she stopped explaining his body jerked, the realization a physical
hit. Then he fixed that bleak, black gaze back on her.

“Another thing you’re not supposed to tell
me?”

Shifter Town Enforcement couldn’t release all
the details on the deaths. It was evidence they could use later,
hopefully to catch this man, but right now it seemed like a pretty
paltry excuse. She pressed her lips together and looked away,
flinching at his snort.

“When she’s fucking dead, call me.”

He jerked away from the tree, heading back
towards the parking lot, and Ollie buried her face in her hands to
keep from calling out.

Keeping the details from Caine wouldn’t help
STE catch the Hunter this time. Claire Rawson would be dead when
they found her. Her only consolation was that telling Caine
wouldn’t save Claire either. But something they kept quiet might
eventually clue them in to the killer. Ollie closed her eyes, but
the image of a girl with a fast smile and too much makeup haunted
her.

In the back of her mind, the girl wasn’t
smiling, and dead, dead eyes stared up at her.

You lose, the wind seemed to taunt, the
Hunter’s scent a fading fragrance on the breeze. Again.

Chapter Four

Under a fat and
heavy full moon, Ollie watched as her collie danced across the
yard. Silver strokes of moonlight cast the dog’s long fur in a soft
glow that faded and reappeared as she moved in and out between the
trees. Ollie leaned back against the rail as Star darted around the
yard, barking happily at one squirrel and then the next, oblivious.
As happy as a dog could be.

It should have been a perfect night.
Beautiful, the crisp cooling air of autumn, a clear sky—it was the
kind of evening to be cherished. Ollie leaned her head back, eyes
closed against the soft breeze. It should have been perfect, but
somewhere out there Claire Rawson was running for her life. Or
already dead.

“You can’t stand out here blaming yourself.
You did everything you could.”

Ollie turned to see Nana standing in the open
sliding glass door, a cup of tea in each hand, steam rising from
them in soft gray curls. She offered one to Ollie with a
sympathetic smile on her face.

“I know. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s
still going to die. Just like everyone else.”

But me.

Nana snorted, a daggered look in her eye as
she glanced at Ollie under silvered eyebrows. “When are you going
to stop blame yourself for living? You knew that bastard, right?
Knew what he wanted, what he needed to make that kill. You didn’t
give it to him, they did.”

Rosalie Myers flashed across her mind, a
nightmare as much as a memory. The woman bleeding on the concrete
floor of the shack, beaten, exhausted, raped... By the time the
Hunter had dragged Ollie into the shack, the woman had already been
through so much. Ollie would never forget the look in Rosalie’s
eyes when she’d turned around in those last few seconds in the
shack. The glance that had told Ollie she was going to run.

Her grandmother caught her wrist. “You knew,
Ollie. Don’t blame yourself for following your head. You tried to
tell her. I don’t have to have been there to know that.”

Star yipped from the field and Ollie turned
to watch the collie go, diving gracefully over the heather and
ferns, a blur of silver and shadow. It was the run the Hunter
needed to trigger the kill switch. A fight or struggle would do it,
too, but the Hunter craved a chase.

“I still wish I could have saved her.”

“I know, child. I wish it too.” Nana took a
sip of her tea, her blue-gray eyes staring out at the field and the
dog running wild in the night. Ollie’s heart tightened with
longing. She wished she could save Claire Rawson. Hated herself for
following orders, for going home. Standing here wouldn’t help
anyone.

Nana stepped forward and touched her elbow, a
faint ghost of a touch, but it brought tears to Ollie’s eyes.

“But blaming yourself won’t bring any of
those women back.” She turned to fix Ollie a firm look. “Nor will
it save anyone else. You survived that night. That’s a good thing.
It puts you a step ahead, gives you an advantage. You’ve seen him,
you have sketches circulating now. It’s only a matter of time.”

Did it really put them ahead, though? How? He
ran circles around Shifter Town Enforcement. Yeah, they’d finally
gotten a concrete sketch done thanks to her, but beyond that, they
had nothing. They still couldn’t catch him. No one recognized
him—he looked too average, too normal.

And now he was making it personal.

“The two victims he took when coming back
from his break were rogues.”

Her grandmother nodded. “And?”

She thought of telling her. Telling Nana that
the first one had been killed in the exact spot she’d fought him
and won. The second, in the spot Rosalie Myers had died. Both had
had notes for Ollie. The games we play. The words ate at her.
Haunted her. Watching you. Coming for you. She wouldn’t forget a
single one of those notes.

But telling Nana that would only make her
worry, stress. Ollie stressed enough for both of them. She shook
her head and lifted her cup. “Just trying to think.”

Ollie took a sip before she was tempted to
say more.

Nana seemed to sense the reason for silence
and looked away, sadness leaving her face soft, worried as
grandmothers often were when family was hurting. “You should come
inside. Get some sleep. Lord knows you won’t get any for a while
after tomorrow. They haunt you.” She touched Ollie’s arm gently. “I
love you.”

She leaned over to kiss her grandmother’s
dry, wrinkled cheek, and all Ollie wanted to do was hold her tight.
Instead, she pulled away. “I’ll be in soon.”

But they both knew that was a lie. She
wouldn’t sleep tonight any more than she’d sleep tomorrow night, or
the night after that. Holly didn’t sleep much at all anymore.

Star darted towards a fast moving blur on the
ground, running full out when a howl shattered the night’s silence.
Nana paused, one hand on the door as she turned to look out over
the yard. Star skidded to a stop, head craned around, but Ollie was
already running.

Woof! The dog took a step forward, a warning
growl rumbling through her sleek body. Every protective instinct
the canine had was in overdrive, the fur down her spine was lifted,
as she stalked towards the howl.

“No! Star, come.” Her hands clenched air,
wishing she had her gun on her, as Ollie ran for the big dog now
standing quivering at the edge of the yard. Star let out another
snarl as a second howl sounded in the distance. Triumphant,
taunting.

He was here.

Star took another step, muscles bunching to
run when Ollie skidded to a halt next to her, grabbing Star’s thick
ruff. The collie whined, twisting her head around as Ollie fumbled
for the dog’s collar, wrapping her hand around the thick nylon. The
dog strained against her, eyes focused on the line of trees and the
wolf hiding amongst them. Another growl rumbled through her as Star
shivered, ears pricked forward. “No. Leave it.” Her voice came out
sharper than she’d meant it to be, harsh. Star barely flicked an
ear in her direction. “Let’s go, Star. Now.”

Finally, the dog’s brain switched on, and she
turned to move with Ollie, trotting easily at her side as they
loped back to the house, only pausing occasionally to glance back
and snarl. Ollie ushered her up onto the porch, wrenched open the
sliding screen glass door and shoved the dog inside. She glanced at
her grandmother.

“Get inside,” Ollie said over her shoulder as
she snatched her gun and cell phone off the kitchen table. Her
hands trembled, the sick knot of fear making her want to vomit.
That had been too close, way too close. One shot and Star could
have been dead. Nana could have been dead. Fresh chills left her
cold as she moved for the back door, a new thought burrowing into
her brain.

The full moon. There was a chance he’d
brought Claire here, killed her here. Under her freaking nose. A
chance the woman might still be alive.

The memory of Star spinning towards the
sound, strung tight with the sudden urge to keep her yard safe, and
Ollie felt her heart clamp down tight. “Please, please stay inside.
No matter what you hear. And don’t let her out.” Ollie slid the
door shut between them, her eyes meeting her grandmother’s through
the glass. “Lock the door.”

Nana nodded. “I will.”

Ollie dialed Lennox’s number as she headed
off the deck, the dim light of the touch screen bobbing as she
moved. Her boss picked up on the first ring as Ollie sprinted
across the yard, making her way towards the trees.

“Ollie? What happened?”

“He’s at my house. I think he has Claire
Rawson here. Probably killed her or is going to, I don’t know. I
haven’t found the body yet. But he’s close. I heard him howl.”

She slowed to a walk as the trees closed in
around her and she had to strain to see.

“Are you sure it was him?” A branch snapped
and Ollie jerked to a stop, spinning. The phone dropped to the
ground as she lifted her gun. Her breathing came heavy, in short,
sharp blasts of air. She could barely hear Lennox on the other end
of the phone, the grumpy growls of her lion lovers in the
background. “And please don’t tell me you were stupid enough to go
running after him. Wait for backup.”

Ollie waited a second, listening.
Nothing.

She knelt, and picked up the phone, cradling
it against her shoulder as she stood. “What if she’s not dead,
Lennox?”

Her boss growled. She knew Lennox wanted to
order her to stand down, to wait, but there was no way Ollie would
listen. They both knew that. Not if there was a chance she could
save this woman. “You at least have your gun?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m on my way and I’m calling the pack.
Don’t let him get you again. Be safe.” The phone went dead, and
Ollie stuffed it in her back pocket, still moving across the back
yard. The full moon made it brighter than normal, but the dense
shadows made it difficult to see. Ollie’s gaze swept over the trees
and down into the meadow, looking for anything that might tell her
where he was.

One shot from him and she could be dead. Just
like the rest. The only difference was...she wasn’t running from
him, but towards him. That knowledge calmed her, eased the shake in
her hands. Ollie dredged up her inner dog, using the canine’s added
night vision to scan the forest to her left. Blowing out a
steadying breath, she called up her Hound magick.