Sliver of Silver (Blushing Death) (10 page)

A light, almost uncertain, knock at the door brought us both back to task as a soft, warm shadow of werewolf power trickled through the room.

Derek ordered, “Come in.”

Tag entered the scene, steering a gurney and a folded body bag underneath his arm, followed by a smaller, much older man I assumed was the coroner.

Derek slid out of the coroner’s way and came back around the bed to me, leaning down to whisper in my ear, not knowing that Tag would hear everything.
Ha, Ha.
The joke was definitely on him.

“You know Taggar didn’t want to show up until I told him
you
wanted him here. Why is that?” he asked with a scandalous grin. Always thinking something dirty.

“Maybe he just likes a pretty face,” I said with sarcasm.

He watched me for a long moment as if his detective badge gave him special powers. An idea lit up his face like watching a light go off behind those hazel green eyes.

“Maybe he’s afraid of you,” he said as if he’d discovered a deep dark secret.

“Not everything and everyone is driven by fear,” I snipped at him. The coroner stared at me like I was just another hormonal woman. He was too old, too human, and too far away to smack around and teach a lesson so I let it slide. “Some are driven by loyalty and respect,” I finished in a more controlled tone.

“So which one is it? Fear? Or loyalty and respect?”

Tag stepped gingerly around the bed and over to me, standing close enough that I could feel the heat from his body.

“Who says it can’t be all three?” Tag added, voice assured and firm.

I flashed him a quick, thankful smile as he came to my rescue again and turned back to Derek. Tag stepped up to the bed and helped the coroner lift the body and guts onto the gurney.

“What’s going on?” Derek whispered as Tag zipped up the body bag. “He looks at you like rookies look at their partners, like you have all the answers.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, skirting the issue as the Coroner removed the gurney from the room. Tag came over to me, his back straight, his head held high, and his eyes soft as he surveyed me.

I slid my arm around Tag, nudging him to the side and away from Derek. I needed to speak to him and not be overheard. I motioned for Tag to head outside. When I stepped to follow Tag out, Derek grabbed my bicep.

Did I have a big sign on my forehead that said, ‘Hey, grab me! I like it.’

When I turned my glare up to meet Derek’s confused expression with violence shining in my eyes, his fingers relaxed against my bicep. His grip changed from an angry snatch to a trembling grasp as a low, warning growl vibrated through Tag’s chest.

Derek released my arm and raised both hands out in front of him, palms out. I could smell the fear wafting from him like a soft, sweet musk.

Derek had shoved his authority around and hadn’t intended to run into a werewolf in his mists. That’s the problem with playing badass; unless you know you can back up the threat, you’d be better off to just stay home.

I patted Tag on the forearm, calming him, petting him in reassurance. Tag’s growl dissipated softly in the back of his throat.

“Derek didn’t mean anything by it,” I whispered.

“What’s going on?” Derek asked, visibly shaken.

I took a deep breath and instead of being a bitch and telling Derek that he didn’t have a right to know, I put it in a way that would protect him instead. I must have been feeling maternal or something. I wanted to protect everyone lately. I wish I could protect myself.

“Derek, you don’t want to know,” I said sympathetically.

“I think I need to know,” he forced. He’d been threatened and kept in the dark. Like any other Alpha male, werewolf or not, Derek acted out in the only way he knew how, aggression. “People are dying in this city and you know why. Maybe even from whom! I should drag your ass in and see how you do in an interrogation room,” he huffed.

“Do what you have to do,” I said. “Taking me downtown isn’t going to get these two assholes off the streets.” I gave him a half-hearted smile, a quick shrug of my shoulders, and followed Tag out.

Tag and I stood in the yard underneath one of the only mature trees on the block. Tag was reluctant to talk, seeming restless as he glanced over his shoulder more times than I could count. He probably hadn’t intended to give himself away in front of one of his coworkers.

“Thank you.” I was touched by what he’d done. I couldn’t explain why it meant so much to me. I barely knew the guy but I felt an inexplicable need to protect him too. I needed him to know his risking himself for me didn’t go unnoticed.

“He shouldn’t touch you,” Tag growled but there was possessiveness to his tone I didn’t understand. I wasn’t even sure how to ask the question forming in my mind so that it made sense. I ignored it and moved on to business I did understand.

“Is it the same two?” I asked. People were coming and going and every one of them seemed to be eyeing the “psychic” with a lot of interest. The coroner, in particular, watched us with a lot of interest and annoyance. He pursed his thin lips like he couldn’t wait the two minutes for Tag to be done with me.

“Yes,” he answered, scrunching his nose in protest. “He fouled that woman,” he said. His eyes stopped darting around the scene and he stared down at me with cold fury in his eyes. He seemed more relaxed, rested, at peace as he stared into my eyes. Tag was several inches taller than me as I stood next to him, gazing up into his flashing silver eyes. Derek had shaken him more than I’d thought. His wolf peeked out at me from underneath barely visible orange eyelashes. Considering what he was, I should have felt small or fragile next to him. I didn’t. I felt enormous, like I towered over him. It was an odd sensation. I didn’t hate it.

“It isn’t right,” Tag whimpered, visibly shaken as he spoke about the ejaculate on the woman’s face. He had to have seen this type of thing all the time but it’s different when the perpetrator is one of your own.

“They played with her,” I said as I glanced over my shoulder at the house still ablaze with light. “It seemed to me like it wasn’t more than that though.”

“What do you mean?”

“This one isn’t like the other one. This woman ran, she lifted weights, she was fit and active. The victim was more physically in shape than the last one. They humiliated her in a way that we’d see right away.” I was still staring at the house as I verbalized my thoughts, still focused on the scene and the locked expression of horror in the dead woman’s eyes as they’d stared lifeless at nothing.

“You think it’s a message?”

“Maybe. Or maybe they’re working up to something else,” I rambled, trying to make sense of it all.

Tag turned and met my eyes. I saw a perfect understanding in the glimmering silver eyes staring back at me.

I’d felt magic in that room. It was minimal, but it was still magic. They were practicing, working their way up to me. Upon that lovely realization, nausea swept over me and made my eyes water. I refused to vomit at a crime scene. I couldn’t show weakness, not to the cops and not to Tag. I swallowed the bile back down and focused on Tag. I’d throw up later.

“I should call Dean. The Gaoh needs to know,” Tag declared. I wished I felt as certain as he sounded. I had a really bad idea about how to force those two assholes’ hand and no one was going to like it.

“Tell him to keep it quiet and for everyone to lay low. Maybe I can draw them out,” I ordered.

“He won’t like that, especially not using you as bait,” Tag warned.

“Not my problem,” I said. I watched his startled face and his silver eyes flash as his lips curled up in a snarl of disagreement. I took a deep breath. “As long as they smell pack surrounding me, I don’t think they’ll make a move,” I explained, exasperated.

“Gaoh won’t like you being bait,” he reiterated as if I hadn’t hear him the first time.

“He doesn’t have a choice.”

“I should at least follow you home,” he begged.

“No,” I dictated. “I need you to stay with the body. Maybe there’s something we missed. Something I missed. We need to know.”

“Is that an order?” he asked with a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His silver eyes faded back to a warm hazel green and my skin crawled with the implications. I didn’t like that look or the way this conversation had turned. I needed it done, though, so I answered him.

“Yes.”

He picked up the phone and dialed. Dean’s deep baritone rumbled over the line on the other end and my heart leapt in my chest. My body tingled at the sound of his voice.

Ummm
, she purred through my mind.

Not the time. Definitely not the place
.

“Follow her home. I’ll check in later,” Dean ordered with a growl vibrating his deep, husky voice.

“I’m sorry, Gaoh, I can’t.” Tag almost chortled.

“Why not?” Dean growled over the phone.

“She ordered me to stay with the body,” he whispered.

The line got very quiet on the other end but I heard the soft rumble of words being spoken. I just couldn’t make them out.

“Yes, Gaoh, it was an order,” Tag affirmed.

In the back of my mind I knew what that shit-eating grin on Tag’s face meant. If he couldn’t disobey my order, I was Alpha to his Omega. I was part of the Pack social structure and quite possibly this Eithina that Jackson kept insisting I wasn’t.
Shit!

Tag hung up the phone. If I was Pack, that meant I was open to challenge for position, for dominance. Not a position I wanted to be in.
Damn it. This just got better and better all the damned time.

“He agrees, I should follow the body.” He beamed, triumphant as he hung up the phone.

“Tag, you couldn’t defy me? Could you?” Even to me, my voice sounded slight and shaky.

“No, I couldn’t,” he confirmed with a smile on his lips and contentedness making his voice softer.

“What is Eithina?” A frightened quiver rocked my voice.
Coward!

“I think that is a question for the Gaoh. I have to go. Be safe,” he chirped, waving to me from over his shoulder.

GOD DAMN IT!!!!

I glanced at my watch. Five-thirty in the morning. Too late to go back to bed and too early to go to work. I got into my car and drove home. Maybe these bastards would make a move and I could get a real night’s sleep. I could only hope.

Chapter 9

I forced myself up off the seat of my bike to see beyond the mustard yellow tape of the crime scene blocking my street. At 2 a.m., my street should’ve been quiet as a church mouse. I’d needed air, space to think and now I came back to three police cars blocking off traffic on this end and another two more on the other end. Their flashing lights ricocheted off the houses, causing a red and blue strobe effect that settled over the street like a heavy fog. It wasn’t the first time police cars had had to block off my street but it was the first time the cause had been at my house.

A growing crowd gawked at my front porch and the ten crime scene techs working on the 12 x 7 space. Anxiety rippled up my spine, my back went painfully rigid as I clutched the handle bars.

“Shit,” I whispered to myself. My stomach roiled as dread filled my belly. I parked the bike along the street and approached the police barrier on tiptoe to see over the heads of the growing crowd. I slipped through the outer perimeter of police barriers and inched closer to the tape blocking off my front porch. A uniformed police officer stepped in front of me with a scowl on his face, stopping me in my tracks.

“You can’t cross the barrier, ma’am,” he snarled.

“That’s my house,” I snapped, spinning around him, sifting through the people, police officers, forensics personnel, and reporters that had slipped behind the lines as well. It seemed the entire neighborhood had managed to get behind the barriers but this guy was giving me shit.

What the hell happened?
The scent of sweet copper filled my nose and the faint smell of blood lingered like a ribbon in the wind. The smell wasn’t but a hint so there wasn’t enough to make my internal alarms go off. Thank goodness for small favors, I guess.

Patrick’s cool breath of power washed over me a second before I felt his gentle touch on my shoulder. He stepped up behind me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, and gave me a quick hug. Clutching me in against the hard line of his body, he secured me snuggly to his chest. I clutched his arm wrapped around me as he held me tight, feeling his power soak into me and his worry twinge in my gut.

His cool breath wafted through my hair and tingled against my neck as he whispered into my ear, “I knew you were unharmed. The smell was wrong but you didn’t answer your phone. I was worried.” Pressing his full, cool lips against my hair, he kissed my head and then stepped away putting distance between us before anyone saw his show of affection. 

Dean stalked up beside Patrick, imposing and determined as his dark brow narrowed and his shoulders became a wall of intimidation.

Together they looked oddly similar. Their authoritative presence and their expectation of submission felt similar in my bones as their power picked and prodded at me, one hot and one cold. Physically, they couldn’t have been more different. Where Patrick was fit and trim with dark hair and pale skin, Dean was bulky with skin that was darkened by the sun with no hair on his head, by choice. Each of them just seemed bigger than anyone else around them, taking up much more space than any man could.

Dean was quiet as always but there was an edge to the heat of his power I didn’t understand. His lips were a tight grim line as his brow scrunched into a furrowed mess. His clear crystal blue eyes were bright orbs surrounded by the thin laugh lines at the corner of his eyes. He seemed almost relieved to see me . . . until he laid eyes on Brennan.

A menacing growl emanated low in his throat. The rumble grew unavoidably loud until Brennan had to turn his eyes away and take a step backward, and away from me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as Brennan stepped up beside me, giving me a once over with relief slumping his shoulders.

“Your house was on the news. I’ve been waiting here for word for a couple of hours.”

I glanced back at Dean whose shoulders had hunched forward as if ready to pounce and shivered. He seemed on edge, his scorching hot power putting up a wall between Brennan and myself that forced beads of sweat to appear on my upper lip. He wouldn’t dare attack Brennan in the middle of a populated area . . . would he? I couldn’t let that happen. 

Taking a surefooted step forward, I tapped my index finger sharply into Dean’s forearm. He had them crossed tight over his chest, making his muscles bulge and ripple. Tension had turned his forearm into a solid flesh covered rock and his veins protruded under his smooth, sun-kissed skin.

I shook my head at him with a warning in my glare.

He stared down at me with ice-cold Caribbean blue eyes full of anger burning behind his bright irises.

“That’s unnecessary,” I chastised. I’d meant my voice to be firm but what came out was soft and pleading. His expression tempered as he searched my face for something I couldn’t place.

I don’t know if he found what he was searching for or not. His face seemed to harden, if that was possible, into a blank façade. Returning to the stern, unemotional Dean I knew and counted on, burying whatever was eating at him away. I appreciated that.

“We came to discuss a rather precarious topic with you. That’s when we found the hand,” Patrick said, pointing to the porch.

“What hand?” I asked, my voice shaky and sounding small, even to my ears. I was sure even Brennan heard the tremble resonate through my words.

“The one nailed to your front door,” Dean growled.

“I called Derek,” Patrick said, cutting off Dean with a soothing, diplomatic tone. Right on cue, Derek approached us through the crowd on the other side of the police tape. He opened his notepad and clicked the pen he plucked from the inside pocket of his suit jacket before he started his interrogation.

“Where were you between the hours of 10 p.m. and 1 a.m.?” His eyes were cold but his hand trembled as he gripped the pen too tightly in his hand. I was pretty sure Derek had thought it was my hand on that door.

“Why?” I asked.

“There
is
a woman’s hand nailed to your front door, after all.” Agitation made Derek’s words clipped like I had something to do with it.

Unfuckingbelievable!

“My front door?” I asked again. In my mind, I couldn’t seem to make the idea of a human hand nailed to my front door make sense. 

Patrick pressed his body into my back, resting his hands on my waist to steady me, maybe to ease the tension I felt boiling in him. Either way, I couldn’t be sure. It was a welcome comfort and a gentle reminder that I wasn’t alone, and to keep my cool. I couldn’t shake the creepy feeling making my stomach churn, though, my heart beat erratically in my chest, and gooseflesh spread across my skin even in the middle of the summer heat. I’ll admit it, I was scared.

“I want Tag here,” Dean growled, jerking his cell phone from his back jeans pocket.

“It’s not possible something else is wreaking havoc around this city and none of us has discovered it,” Patrick added with an edge of sarcasm. “Get him here.”

“Tag?” Dean growled without a hello or any greeting. “Get over to Dahlia’s.” He gave me an evaluating glance from head to toe. His eyes flashed the blue of his wolf as they raked over me before returning to the warm olive-green of everyday. “No, Tag. She’s not hurt,” he said with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The relief in his statement shined in his eyes and stilled something deep in my being.

“Dahlia will not be staying here,” Patrick commanded. “They’ve discovered where she lives. I will not give them the opportunity to get the upper hand.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I huffed. I wasn’t sure who Patrick thought he was but I wasn’t about to let him tell me what I was or wasn’t going to do. No one was going to do that as long as I still had a breath in my body.

“Be reasonable,” Dean started with exasperation as he shoved it into his back pocket.

“I’m not running.”

The quick upturn of approval at the corner of Dean’s mouth brightened his Caribbean blue eyes and tightened my gut.

Patrick’s pride overflowed into me so hard I had to take a step away or I felt like I’d drown in it. The emotion was always stronger through contact and I needed a little distance to get my head straight.

“I think your
friends
are right,” Brennan added, heavy on the disdain though. For a moment I’d forgotten he was there. He’d been so quiet I’d completely disregarded him in the presence of the other two overwhelming men.

Patrick and Dean’s gazes fell on him like an anvil from the sky, with contempt and warning. Brennan seemed to shrink even more from them and I hadn’t thought that was possible.

“Your opinion is unwelcome,” Patrick snarled.

“Stop!” I stepped into the center of the circle of the three men. No one told me what to do, no matter who they were. “I’m not a child,” I growled through clenched teeth. “I can make my own decisions. I can take care of myself.”

“I think all that they’re saying, Dahlia—” Brennan backpedaled but there was no way I was going to let him finish that sentence.

“I know exactly what they’re saying. Better than you know,” I snipped, letting the bitch inside take over and roar like she hadn’t roared in months. I wasn’t in the habit of sparing feelings even if he was a priest and one of my oldest friends. I turned to glare at the two men looming over me, trying their best to intimidate me.

Patrick seemed pissed. His annoyance at my continued disregard of his
safety
measures percolated along my spine. I shook the queasiness away. I didn’t need to be babysat, and he knew that.

Dean, however, grinned like he’d just caught his dinner. Narrowing my gaze on him, I saw the shiver run up his spine as, even for an instant, he felt like prey. “Stuff it, Dean, or do you want some of this too because there’s plenty to go around?”

Tag strolled up behind Dean and his rich head of carrot-colored hair peeked out from over Dean’s shoulder. “I’ll stay with the Eithina,” he offered as if he were a knight defending the realm, his shoulders back and his chin high. The tone in his voice had the faint ring of selflessness that I wasn’t too keen on, making me more uncomfortable than I wanted to admit.

Patrick bristled at Tag’s statement and his dark eyes shot from me to Dean. The two exchanged expressions I couldn’t begin to guess at. It seemed volumes were exchanged in those glances and I was too angry to care.

“She is not Eithina,” Dean huffed dubiously but even I could smell the lie in his words. The man’s adrenaline spiked, pushing the musky scent of his lie through my senses.

“As my Gaoh declares,” Tag said, but his voice was deep with protest.

“What the hell is this Eithina?” I snapped.

Dean sighed.

Patrick pursed his lips and the muscles along his jaw tightened and jumped as he clenched his teeth. Both men were uncomfortable and a little part of me enjoyed that. Dean folded his arms over his chest, silent. Patrick actually started to whistle. He never fucking whistled.

“It’s our Queen and mate to Gaoh,” Tag answered with a scathing glance to both men. He stepped forward and placed a protective hand on my shoulder.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!! So much for Dean needing to tell me.

Maybe Tag was tired of the secrets, too. Or maybe he
had
to answer. I’d asked a direct question. I didn’t like that option either.

“You’re joking,” I choked. I glanced over to Patrick for answers, hoping I’d see something in his face that would tell me Tag was wrong. I couldn’t go through that again. Patrick’s hurt burned like acid bubbling under my skin and I fought the rise of bile in my throat, but I didn’t feel the surprise I expected.

MOTHER FUCKING BASTARD! SONOVABITCH already knew!

As he met my gaze, Patrick yanked his anger back, slamming his shields down and cloistering his emotions away.

Jade screamed my name above the dull roar of the crowd, breaking the heavy silence and my simmering rage.

“Hey,” she called with Kurt following close on her heels. “Are you all right?”

“Kurt!” I demanded in my strongest, rage-filled voice. Like a good little soldier serving his queen, he presented himself for duty.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn IT!

“Find Derek and ask when I can have my house back,” I ordered. Without a word or a confirmation from Dean, he was gone. I turned to the two men trying my patience. “And as for the two of you,” I started but stopped. What threat could I make that would stick? I couldn’t kill them. I wouldn’t hurt them. And they both knew it. There was nothing I could say to make my threat good. I couldn’t back it up.

A defeated and resigned weight settled over me. I was tired. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten a good night’s sleep.

Jade moved closer, sliding her hand in mine, and I was thankful for the comfort she offered.

“Just go,” I whispered. I glanced at Brennan who had remained silent beside me. “All of you . . . just go.”