Her Lone Wolf (10 page)

Clayne swore. If he listened to any more of this, he was going to jump to Danica’s defense and punch Carhart in his smug face. Turning his back on them, he took out his cell phone and called John so he could get him up to speed. He didn’t have a lot of info to pass along, but he wanted the DCO to have everything there was. You could never tell what might be important.

“The witness said he was a white guy,” he told John. “And based on what I saw, he’s about six three or so, at least two hundred and twenty pounds. Probably somewhere between twenty and forty years old.”

That wasn’t much to go on, but the DCO had spent more than a decade finding shifters within the general population, so Clayne hoped they might already have someone matching that description in the database.

“We’ll add what you’ve given us to the search criteria and keep looking,” John said. “But right now, we don’t have very much. Zarina was able to look at the wound patterns and confirm you’re looking for some kind of cat shifter, though.”

That was a big help. “Yeah, I’ve already figured that part out,” Clayne said dryly. “Any chance you can get Ivy and Landon out here to help? It might be good to have another cat on this. Maybe she can figure out what this psycho is going to do next.”

John sighed. “I’d like to. But I’ve still got Ivy and Landon trying to find something on Klaus and Renard. If I send them out to help, I’m only going to have to yank them again the second something pops.”

Clayne understood. He knew how important it was for Ivy to find those doctors—and the DNA samples they’d taken from her.

“Regardless,” John added, “we’ll search our database for a cat shifter that meets your description, one with serial-killer tendencies. Since we don’t already have something on this guy, we’ll extend the parameters outside the U.S. border. We might be dealing with a foreign national who slipped into the States recently. I’ll be in touch as soon as we find anything.”

“One more thing,” Clayne growled. “You could have told me I’d be working with Danica.”

There was a slight hesitation on the other end of the phone. “I thought I did.”

Clayne just grunted and hung up. He turned back around to see if Danica was still getting chewed out by her boss only to find Carhart giving a quick field briefing.

“Based on the information our profilers have gotten from the witness—most especially the abnormal strength and animal-like growling—we’re most likely dealing with a drug user, probably someone who abuses steroids. Which makes perfect sense since the previous victims spent a lot of time in the gym.”

Tony leaned over to Danica. “Now we’re not only looking for a survivalist who’s a hunter and a gangbanger, but one who works out at the gym and takes steroids?”

“And who growls,” she whispered back.

Their words were too low for Carhart or anyone else to pick up, but Clayne chuckled. What wasn’t so funny, however, was that Carhart hated the idea of giving the “guy from DHS” any credit. He’d completely dismissed the fact that Clayne had been right with the prey angle and that they’d almost caught the killer. Or saved the next victim. How the hell Carhart had ever been put in charge was beyond Clayne. Then again, Dick got ahead in the DCO by being so stupid that people thought he was brilliant. Maybe that was this guy’s MO, too. Hell, maybe they taught the technique in the academy or something.

“So, do we go back to the list of possible victims?” Tony asked when they got in the car.

Clayne leaned against the backseat as Tony pulled out of the parking lot. “That’s all we have to go on right now.”

“Let’s hope the killer doesn’t change his tactics now that we know his preferred target demographic,” Danica said from the passenger seat.

She reached up with one hand to rub the back of her neck. Some of her hair had come loose from her bun to hang down her back, and Clayne had to resist the urge to lean forward to gently sweep it aside so he could massage the tension from her shoulders. Damn, she looked beat. None of them had slept in thirty-six hours, so they probably all looked like crap.

But she was right about the killer possibly changing up his script. If he did, it wouldn’t be because he knew the feds were onto his favorite target group. It’d be because the killer knew there was another shifter after him. If the guy was smart, he’d blow town. That’d solve the city of Sacramento’s problem, but it’d make life hard on Clayne, because he’d have to figure out where the asshole had disappeared to. That’d be a pain in the ass.

On the upside, he wouldn’t have to work with Danica anymore.

That should have had him doing freaking cartwheels, but for some stupid reason, it didn’t. And that irritated him just about as much as not catching the serial killer did.

Thanks to the media buzzing with news about “The Sacramento Hunter,” it was damn near impossible to get anything useful out of anyone. Everyone freaked the moment someone with a badge showed up at their door. For all Clayne knew, they’d spooked the killer off last night and he was now prowling another part of the state—or continent—looking for some poor, unsuspecting husband-slash-boyfriend-slash-father to sink his claws into. On the other hand, the cat shifter might already have grabbed someone who wasn’t on the list and was hunting him while Clayne wasted his time driving around town with Danica and Tony.

Clayne ground his jaw. If it were up to him, he’d have surveillance on the most likely targets, but unfortunately it was up to that asswipe Carhart. Instead, he had every member of the task force out on the street, rounding up every drugged-out, steroid-using gym rat and hunting freak who had a police record. And while they did that, the rest of the FBI field office was spending their time trying to determine if there was some new drug that could account for the animal-like behavior and exceptional strength. The media had put that in their story, too, saying the FBI was searching for a serial killer who was high on bath salts or some other hallucinogenic drug. Like they needed to freak people out even more than they already were.

Danica and Tony had attempted to convince Carhart the FBI should put agents on the other possible victims on their list of AB blood types—the fact that they’d almost caught the Hunter proved they were on the right track. But Carhart didn’t want to waste agents on what he thought had been dumb luck. He’d rather drag in every juicer and drug addict in the city than do anything useful. Maybe the idea that they were facing a drugged-out wacko was less terrifying than the truth—that they were after a seriously deranged, but smart, serial killer.

“How the hell are we supposed to find the killer if we’re doing this stupid shit all day?” Clayne growled to Danica as they dropped off another suspect for interrogation. This guy was the owner of a local gym who was known for selling steroids to the local high school football players. He was scum, but being scum was a long way from being a serial killer.

Clayne clenched his hands into fists to keep his claws from coming out. God, he felt like punching someone—preferably Carhart. But truthfully, right then, anyone would work. Which was unfortunate for the uniformed officer who appeared with another rap sheet of yet another suspect to bring in for questioning. Clayne’s claws pushed out from beneath his nails.
Screw this
. He was done playing these silly-ass games. He ignored the folder the young cop held out to him and instead reached for the front of the man’s uniform. He wasn’t that idiot Carhart, but he’d do.

But Danica’s hand intercepted his, her fingers closing over the folder just in time. “Thanks, Officer,” she said smoothly as she stepped between Clayne and the cop. “I’ll take that.”

The man blinked like he’d just been pushed out of the way of a moving truck and nodded his head nervously as he stepped back and darted for an opening in the crowd filling the room.

Danica turned and gave Clayne a pointed look. “O-kay. Time to get you something to eat.”

Huh? She wasn’t going to lecture him about keeping his cool and playing nice with others, or some other stupid crap that wasn’t any of her damn business?

“Eat?” he repeated stupidly.

Way to go, genius
. But she was standing so close to him that he couldn’t think, much less speak.

“Yes, eat. Before we pick up this next suspect,” she said. “It’s a little early for dinner, but you tend to get hangry when you don’t eat.”

He glanced at his watch. Three o’clock. It was early to eat, but he was hungry. He fell into step beside her as she walked toward the exit. “Hangry? What the hell is that?”

She led the way to the four-door sedan that he was starting to think of as his home away from home. He spent more time in it than he did in the bed at the hotel. “You know, when you get angry because you’re hungry. Hangry.”

He couldn’t help chuckling. “Cute. Did you come up with that?”

Danica laughed. “No, but I wish I had. I saw it on some website.” She jerked her head toward the backseat. “Get in. We’ll grab something to eat, then pick up this next guy.”

Tony was leaning against the side of the car waiting for them, and he got in the driver’s side as Danica went around to ride shotgun.

“Where to?” Tony asked as he put the car in gear.

When Danica named a fast-food place known for their monster burgers, Clayne almost laughed. Danica knew him pretty damn well—maybe better than he knew himself. She knew when he was frustrated, when he was pissed off, when he was hungry, and apparently what he liked to eat. And as the past few days had reminded him, she knew how to keep him calm and focused on the task ahead of them, and she knew what to say to keep him from losing it. She brought out the best in him—like any good partner would.

Only Danica wasn’t his partner anymore. And working with her again reminded him of how good they’d been together.

She’d been the first woman—the first person—to really get him. It made no sense, especially since she was a norm, but she understood him like no one he’d ever met before. Within weeks of teaming up with her, he’d felt this connection between them, almost a bond. It should have scared the hell out of him, but it hadn’t. Instead of pushing her away with baleful glares and subtle growls like he had everyone else, he’d allowed her to get inside his defenses and get close to him. It had been so easy to trust her, and even easier to fall in love with her.

Clayne looked out the window, not seeing half of what went by as he replayed the memory of that first time they’d both decided to let their partnership slip beyond the bounds of a professional relationship into something more. And though the memory was rather bittersweet now, it still made him smile.

* * *

Upstate New York, July 2010

They’d been watching the Chinese diplomat’s house for a week. According to their intel, the guy was supposed to be buying information from a high-tech computer company in the United States and sending it back to China. He and Danica weren’t sure what technology was trading hands, but their orders had been simple. Don’t touch the Chinese diplomat. Wait until he made the transfer, then apprehend the person who picked up the package. Problem was, no one had shown up for the drop, which was supposed to have happened a week ago. Clayne’s gut told him they’d missed it, but John insisted they sit tight, that their source might have been wrong about the date.

Hanging out with his partner certainly wasn’t a problem. They’d been working like a well-oiled machine ever since that hostage rescue in Mexico City a few weeks earlier. Any time he spent alone with Danica was in the category of quality time as far as he was concerned. The problem was that it was the middle of winter in upstate New York, and only place the DCO could find that had a view of the Chinese diplomat’s house was a fancy home in foreclosure across the street. They had no lights, no power, and no heat.

If they’d been stuck there only a day or two, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but a whole week? It was shitty, even for Clayne, and the cold weather didn’t bother him. They had food and water, as well as plenty of blankets and cold-weather gear. But you could only pile on so much clothing. Danica looked like she was about to turn blue. And it was supposed to get colder tonight than it had since they’d holed up there.

Clayne peered through the nightscope at the house across the street again. The place was completely dark inside. “This is stupid,” he muttered. “No one’s coming tonight. And even if someone does, I can handle it. Go back to the hotel where it’s warm. You’re going to freeze to death if you spend another night out here.”

He looked at Danica—or what he could see of her. She was sitting on their sleeping bags buried under a pile of blankets, shivering.

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Right. Her teeth were freaking chattering.

He swore under his breath. Danica was just being stubborn now. But there wasn’t much he could do about it. He wasn’t going to drag her out of the house against her will, and he couldn’t find another blanket or scrap of clothing to pile on her. Hell, he’d already given her his coat.

With a growl, he got to his feet and went over to her. Dropping to one knee, he yanked off the blankets, leaving her exposed to the subfreezing temperature in the room.

Danica clutched at it like her life depended on it. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to keep you from freezing to death.”

“By taking all the stuff that’s keeping me warm?”

Clayne sat down behind her and rearranged the blankets around both of them. “By doing this.”

Danica hugged herself. “I think this kind of thing only works in the movies.”

He pulled her back against his chest and wrapped his arms around her. “Stop talking and keep your eyes on the house next door. You’re the one who wanted to stay here, so you watch for a while.”

Danica might be slender, but she wasn’t petite compared to most women. She fit nicely between his legs all the same, and he pulled his knees up so she was completely enveloped in his body heat. She muttered something under her breath again about this never going to work, but he noticed she stopped shivering. He opened his mouth to point it out to her, but had to clamp it shut to avoid letting out a groan as she wiggled against him. His cock took notice despite the room’s arctic chill.

“Why didn’t you volunteer to do this four days ago?” she asked as she grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders like a shawl. “You’re like a freaking muscle-bound electric blanket.”

Why the hell hadn’t he thought of it four days ago? “I didn’t think you’d appreciate it as much then as you do now.”

That was probably true. Just because they’d gotten a little hot and heavy in Mexico didn’t mean she wanted him putting his paws on her. He might not be the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to understanding women, but he knew that.

“Shows what you know,” she muttered.

He chuckled. Okay, so maybe he didn’t know anything about women.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I was just imagining you trying to shoot me if I had tried this on Tuesday.”

She considered that, but then she nodded. The movement made her hair brush against his jaw. It felt nice. And smelled seriously delicious. “Maybe you’re right about that.”

Clayne shifted slightly, easing his increasingly hardening cock away from her perfect ass. He’d finally found a partner he clicked with. He wasn’t going to mess it up by letting his mind—and other parts of his anatomy—wander where it shouldn’t.

But it was tough. Sitting with her like this, he couldn’t help but notice Danica had all kinds of curves in all kinds of places he hadn’t really noticed before. Okay, that wasn’t true. He had noticed. But a man noticed curves in a whole new light when they were pressed up against him. Especially when Danica wiggled around and pushed those curves back even more in search of the warmest spot to snuggle into.

He closed his eyes and bit back another groan. When she did that, it was hard not to think about what had happened between them in Mexico City. Sure, the kiss had only been a ploy to keep their cover intact, but it had also been hot, especially when she’d started kissing him back. It’d damn near been enough to make him forget about the two innocent maids or that the next people who came out very well could have been the drug lord’s goons. It hadn’t been his fault. He was a man, after all. And Danica was the type of woman who could bring him to his knees if she wanted to.

His dick stiffened to new and painful proportions at that. He quickly turned his attention to the house across the street. Maybe keeping his mind occupied would make him stop thinking about the very warm, very soft body he was cuddling up with. This close together, Danica was going to notice that he had a hard-on.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

Clayne tipped his head to one side to look at her face. Her cheek was resting against his forearm. It was the first time he realized her complexion was so much lighter than his, almost creamy in comparison to his naturally tanned skin.

“About what?”

“I should have told you earlier that I was having an issue with the cold,” she said. “I was being stupid and stubborn. If the contact had shown up, I probably would have been too cold to be of much use to you.”

Clayne doubted it. “I don’t know about that. You feeling better now?”

He felt pretty damn good, that was for sure. He especially liked the part where his arm draped across her soft breasts. Which, now that he thought about it, was a dangerous place for his arm to be. He tried to relocate it to a safer spot, but she wasn’t having any of it. If anything, she pulled him even tighter.

“Much better,” she said in answer to his question. “I wish I knew your body was this warm before. I would have cuddled up with you every night.” She stiffened suddenly, as if realizing what she’d just said. “Um, that didn’t quite come out the way I intended it. I just meant…”

“Forget about it,” he said softly. “I know what you meant. It’s completely understandable that you’d want to cuddle up with me. I’m pretty irresistible.”

Danica laughed, relaxing against him again. “Yeah, right. You’re just a big, strong guy with a soft, gooey center.”

His mouth twitched. “Exactly.”

“Then tell me something. If you’re so soft and gooey, why is there something hard poking me in the butt?”

It would have been Clayne’s turn to stiffen, but he wasn’t sure he could get any harder without exploding. But hell, it’d been a long time since he’d been this close to a woman this beautiful and sexy. Check that. He’d never been this close to a woman this beautiful and sexy—ever.

“Um…sorry.”

He was so embarrassed he could barely get the word out. He would have backed away some, but Danica still had a firm grip on his arm and didn’t seem inclined to let him go.

“Forget about it.” She tilted her head to look at him, her dark eyes half hidden beneath her lashes. “It’s completely understandable that cuddling up with me would do that to you. I’m pretty irresistible.”