The Wolf Witch (The Keys Trilogy Book 1) (13 page)

She jolted awake as if she’d been dreaming of falling. Someone was moving around in the kitchen.

Her neck cricked painfully as she straightened up; Gloria’s lumpy couch was not the most comfortable place to doze off.

Gabe stuck his head around the doorway. “Hey.”

“Oh shit,” said Blue, as she remembered just how thoroughly she’d screwed this up. “I am
so
sorry. I don’t know what happened...”

“It’s okay. She’s here.”

“Gloria?”

He nodded.

“Oh, thank God,” she said. As she set her feet on the floor she was aware of how much thigh she was showing; even the sudden weight of worry and wakefulness couldn’t completely still the muted thrumming between her legs. “I swear, she just gave me the slip...”

“I know,” he said. “She told me.”

“She did?”

Gloria came in, wearing a pair of fuzzy blue house slippers that were a little worse for wear. There were still splatters of dried mud on her thin, paper-skinned legs, but she was wearing her dentures and her hair had been scraped tidily back from her face. “You’ll forgive me running out on you,” she said. “I’m a sneaky old buzzard when I need to be.”

“Sure,” said Blue, but she was only making noises for the sake of it, because she had no idea what to say. Gloria’s entire demeanor was...different. Better. Fixed. Blue knew from the look on Gabe’s face that not only was he just as confused as she was, but he was relieved to discover that someone else thought this whole situation was just as nuts as he did.

“You’ll excuse me, babies,” said Gloria, setting down her purse on the coffee table and shuffling off towards the stairs. “It’s been a long night and I’m pooped.”

They watched her go.

“What just happened?” asked Blue, after they heard Gloria’s bedroom door close.

“I have no idea.”

“Where did you find her?”

Gabe shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe it either. “She...drove to Miami. In her slippers. And walked into the police precinct where me and Joe were waiting.”

“I’m so sorry,” Blue said, again. “She was out of the door before I knew...Stacy’s kid was out on the lawn and she thinks he’s on drugs and - ”

He held up a hand. “- it’s cool. I got the jist of it from Gloria. Is there any coffee?”

“No, but I could make some.”

“Let me,” he said, and wandered into the kitchen. She followed, still not totally convinced he wasn’t mad at her for letting Gloria wander off like that.

Blue sat down on a rickety kitchen chair, her eyes still on him as he reached up to a cupboard and took out a French press. For some dumb reason her mind had snagged on that fragment of her dream and all she could think of - idiotically - was just how nicely made he was. Not bulky, but with a kind of compact grace all of his own - slim hips, solid back, strong brown wrists and forearms. He leaned heavily on the counter for a moment, peering out of the window, the weight on his arms bracing his shoulders under his thin, sweat-stained shirt.

“Has this happened before?” she asked, because she didn’t want to apologize again. It hadn’t helped the first four or five times she’d done it.

Gabe set the kettle to boil and turned around. “Has what happened before?”

“This. She seems...better.”

“She has lucid moments sometimes,” he said, and she could see the need in his eyes, the depth of his desire to believe that a miracle had taken place. And how much he knew he couldn’t let himself get his hopes up. “Although not for this long. It’s usually just five minutes here and there.”

“Do you know why she went to Miami?”

He licked his lips. “Well, yeah. She came to try and post bail, actually.”

“You’re kidding me?”

“Nope. Eli’s like, her nephew. Or step-nephew. Something, anyway.”

“Oh. I didn’t realize.”

Gabe raked his hair back from his face with his fingers. He looked terribly tired. “Small town,” he said. “Everyone is everyone’s cousin in some capacity. It’s like some serious
Duelling Banjos
shit down here.”

“Is he okay?” said Blue. “I mean, did they...charge him, or whatever?”

“He’s a person of interest,” said Gabe. “Whatever that means. They hauled him in for questioning, but I don’t know. They may haul him back. Obviously someone up in Miami PD has half a brain, because there’s no way Eli could have done what they said he did. No way. He would never hurt a woman. Not intentionally. He’s a huge slut, but you know - hump and dump is about as bad as he gets.”

“What is that he’s supposed to have done?”

He gave her a long, thoughtful look. “You probably don’t want to know.”

Right. The old Southern gentleman bullshit; treat the ladies like fine bone china. Even if said lady had spent three days in the Superdome after Katrina. “Do I look like that much of a delicate flower?” she said.

“I guess not,” he said, looking slightly taken aback at her prickly tone.

“So?”

He leaned back against the counter and sighed. “This woman,” he said. “The victim. She was one of Eli’s...girls, I guess. Like I say - huge slut.” Gabe swallowed. “They found her in the hallway of her home. Messy. Real messy. So bad they thought it was some kind of...animal attack, at first.”

“What kind of animal?”

“A dog,” he said. “They think someone set a dog on her and then...then finished her off with a knife.”

“Jesus,” said Blue. “And they think your friend did this?”

He looked as sick and sad and confused as any normal person should in the light of such awful things. “They were looking for motive. And it turns out she was...” He swallowed again and sighed. “Blue, this is horrible.”

“I told you. I know horrible. Go on.”

Gabe glanced up at the ceiling if he were trying to imagine himself elsewhere. “She was pregnant.”

The implication settled. He was right; it was horrible. “They don’t think - ”

“ - no. I think that’s why they let him go. She hadn’t told him. When they told him, it was the first he’d heard of it, so I figure someone must have believed his reaction. I doubt she was going to tell him. Like I say - he’s kind of a deadbeat when it comes to women.” He covered his mouth with his hand and she got up, afraid he was going to cry.

She touched his wrist and it was worryingly easy, the way they came together. He squeezed her firmly, like he was trying to keep it businesslike, brotherly, but then his hand got caught in her hair and she heard his breath hitch as their embrace subtly – but definitely – shifted gear. The dream resurfaced in her mind and her body cried out with the promise of the simple comfort she could offer him.

His other hand came up and brushed her cheek, the corner of her mouth. His tired eyes were wet and dark, his thick black lashes drooping as he leaned towards her.

“Don’t,” she said, suddenly self-conscious.

For a split second he stiffened and she quickly leapt to smooth it over. “I fell asleep on the couch,” she said. “My breath is horrendous right now.”

He laughed softly. “Oh God, like I give a shit,” he said, and cupped her chin as he leaned in and kissed her. His lips were dry from the sun but pillowy soft on hers, and when his tongue curled against hers she felt like her head was empty but for the small liquid noises of their mouths and a single, breathless whispered word –
yes
.

Knowing how much she wanted this turned out to be the thing that stopped her; there simply wasn’t time. In less than four hours she would have to be ready for work, and while she had no idea exactly how long she had slept, it hadn’t been nearly enough.

She leaned her forehead against his, his hand caught in the curls of her hair and their panting breaths mingling between them, humid and expectant.

“I should get back,” she said.

“Huh. That bad?”

She felt her facial muscles stretch into a smile that seemed to have nothing to do with her, like happiness – no, joy – was something you could catch with a sneeze. Or a kiss. “No. The opposite, actually. It’s just...” His thumb brushed over her lower lip and his eyes were dark and bright with wanting her. “Work. I can’t...”

Gabe untangled his hand from her hair and planted a soft, close-lipped kiss on her mouth as he stepped away. “Sure,” he said, and she was glad they were speaking the same language. He knew what it meant to have to work for a living.

“So I should...”

“...no.”

“No?”

“I’m not leaving Gloria,” he said. “And I’m sure as hell not letting you walk home alone. Oh, and my offer with the boatshed? Sorry, but I’m gonna have to withdraw that. Not with some maniac running around out there.”

Blue raised an eyebrow, amused. “Just so you know, you’re walking a very fine line between chivalrous and condescending right now.”

He sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just scared. And I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

His hair was flopping into his eyes and she wanted to brush it back, but she knew if she started touching him again she wouldn’t be able to stop. “It’s one murder, Gabe,” she said, sounding like a hardened city dweller even to her own ears. “Awful things happen all the time.”

Gabe didn’t budge. “There’s a spare bed upstairs. Get some sleep, and I’ll drive you to work in the morning.”

A bed. That was both the first and last thing she needed right now. And with him under the same roof. “Are you putting the moves on me, Gabriel?”

He smiled, baring his chipped tooth. “No. Maybe.” He giggled, a sound that was oddly touching. “A little. I don’t know.” They were standing too close together again and he drew himself back. “I will... take the couch,” he said, with a kind of joshing formality.

“It’s lumpy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not helping here. You do know that, don’t you?”

“Yep.”

Gabe shook his head. “Go to bed, Blue. Second door on your left.”

“Okay. Goodnight. Or morning. Or whatever.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

9

Gabe was staring into his second cup of coffee when Joe came in, slinking through the back door on big, silent feet.

“Hey,” Joe said, but his eyes were uneasy. He’d always had the keenest nose of any of them, especially where trouble was concerned.

“There’s coffee if you want it. You might need to refresh it a little.”

Joe shook his head, took a mug from the drainer and sloshed out the tarry dregs from the French press. “We got a problem,” he said.

“Just the one?”

Joe pulled up a chair, so close that his hip almost brushed Gabe’s. Gabe’s palms itched and he was still half hard in his pants, having been trying and failing to stave off thoughts of Blue. She was right upstairs and no matter how he rooted his ass to the chair, his mind kept flying up to join her, teasing him with thoughts of how her skin would feel when he skimmed his fingers up her thigh, how she’d breathe faster when he crumpled up her skirt and dropped to his knees. How she’d taste.

He could feel the warmth of Joe’s body from inches away and in different circumstances he might have done something about it. Funny how the desire to touch came bubbling to the surface like this in times of stress. That hunger for comfort and closeness so often blurred when the need to feel skin came into play. Joe leaned in, and Gabe could feel his breath tickling his ear, stirring lust anew. The thought of Blue was enough to make him nearly explode.

Joe breathed in. “Oh,” he said, his Minnesota accent turning the single syllable into something at once comical and tender. “Yeah - that’s a problem all right.”

“Tell me this is a bad idea.”

“It’s a bad idea.”

“I really like her,” said Gabe, moving his knee away from Joe’s.

“I know. I can tell.”

“Well, that’s mine. What’s
your
problem?”

Joe exhaled long and slow and took a mouthful of coffee. “The kid,” he said. “Stacy’s boy. I don’t think it’s drugs.”

Gabe sat back and stared at him for a second. Jesus, this night just kept on getting crazier. “Are you shitting me? I thought everyone had pretty much figured out he was Eli’s.”

“He is, I think.”

“I thought it was usually a thing you got from your grandfather, not your dad.”

Joe shrugged. “It doesn’t always skip a generation. Or Stacy’s old man must have been one of the gang.”

Gabe tried to take it all in. “Great. That’s all we fucking need. Like Eli was any help before all this happened...”

“There’s something else, too.”

“What?”

Joe shook his head and leaned back in the chair, stretching his long legs under the table. “That’s just it,” he said. “I don’t know. Something else. Something big.”

That ill wind in Miami. Oh yeah. There was something there. “You feel it in your bones?”

“No. More like in the spaces between them. Like that feeling you get inbetween your back bones when - ”

“ – no. That’s like two weeks away.”

“I know.” Joe frowned and chewed his lower lip for a moment. “And don’t pretend like I’m being weird and wiggy, because I know you feel it too.”

Gabe drained his coffee cup. “I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t mention it.”

“Nope,” said Joe, tapping his nose. “You know me.”

They fell silent for a moment. Bugs chirped and the clock ticked in the brief, pre-dawn cool. “So what do you think?” asked Gabe, reluctantly. “Something big? Change of management?”

“Could be. I heard rumors that Lyle Raines was sick. Maybe I should go north. Take a look around.”

“Are you crazy? After last time?”

“I’ll sneak. Stay under the radar.”

“No way,” said Gabe. “Not alone. I’m coming with you.”

“That’ll be worse,” said Joe. “Come on – be sensible. We can’t afford for both of us to be out of work.” Trust him to frame it in common sense terms, even though he knew all the other reasons why Gabe needed to stay in the Keys.

Gabe sighed. “I guess,” he said. “And someone needs to be here for Gloria.”

“What happened to that RN Eli promised?”

“Oh yeah. Like that’s going to happen. Once the word gets out about the arrest.”

“They didn’t charge him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Gabe. “That’s the kind of shit that sticks around here. You just wait - give it twenty-four hours and Eli’s reputation as the Keys Casanova will be gone like a werewolf’s daddy. Shit, give it forty-eight and they’ll be making out like he’s Jack the Ripper and Charlie Manson all rolled into one.”