“I’ll try to stay in human form—I’d like to just shoot them and end this quickly.” Jordan gave her one last hard look. “Be careful.” Then he turned, charging for the front door. If the werewolves were awake, they’d smell the shifters, so stealth was unnecessary.
Katie settled her back against a tree, taking aim at the entrance. Lance stood in front of her, teeth bared, concentration absolute on the shack.
Jordan hit the entrance, splintering the rotten wood in two, crashing inside. A furious roar bellowed forth. Snarls, growls, and loud thunks echoed back. Something impacted the nearest wall. Boards on the front of the house broke outward. Splinters of wood flew across the sad porch.
Fear slammed into Katie. What if more than three werewolves lived in the shack? She maneuvered closer and to the side for a better angle.
Jordan flew out, spinning head over heels, followed by an enraged beast. A seven-foot, huge-assed, hairy werewolf the color of a gray sheepdog. Deadly fangs flashed low, dripping with saliva. The monster advanced on Jordan, eyes a swirling yellow, three-inch claws swiping furiously. The fur stood up along its back.
Hitting the ground, Jordan rolled, landing on his feet with his gun firing.
Katie joined in, aiming for the beast’s chest. She used both hands to aim the gun. The recoil jerked her arms each time. An ache set up in her shoulder blades, yet she shoved the pain away and kept firing.
The animal fell to one knee, roaring in fury.
Lance circled to the side, teeth bared, claws out.
Jordan settled his stance, shooting the monster between the eyes. The werewolf fell back, an odd moaning escaping. No expression covered Jordan’s face, but his eyes flared with emotion. He yanked a knife from his boot. Stalking forward, he straddled the werewolf, plunging the blade into its neck.
Blood sprayed across Jordan’s throat and chest. Grunting, fighting, and using both hands, he slashed hard to the right. Then the left. Finally, the monster’s head rolled away from the body.
“I’m sorry,” Jordan whispered.
Lance eyed Jordan, nodded at Katie, and ran full bore into the house to help Baye, clearing the porch in a graceful leap.
Standing up, Jordan turned toward her. Savagery slashed into very lines of his chiseled face. Sorrow cut deeper in his eyes. “I should never have allowed you to be part of this.”
Understanding and sympathy slid through her. It wasn’t the killing. The pain lay in the fact that the shifter had probably once been a good man. “This is on the Kurjans, Jordan. Not us.”
“Is it?” He glanced at Baye, who carried out the head of another werewolf—this one a dark brown.
Baye threw the head toward the trees. “Only two werewolves. Neither were Brent.” A long scratch marred his left cheek, and blood covered his torso. “You’re gonna want to see this.” He disappeared back inside.
Katie hurried forward, clutching Jordan’s arm. “You are not responsible for the evil brought by the Kurjans.”
His bicep flexed. “How can I not be?” He stared at the blood now covering his cowboy boots. “I thought I’d be the best choice to lead. I made sure I was the only choice.” He shook his head, fury vibrating from his strong body. “Maybe I was wrong.”
She dug her nails in. “Stop it.” What the heck was going on? “I have a sense of Brent. The guy is pure evil—he would’ve destroyed the feline nation. You did the right thing. And now, you’re doing your job by chasing monsters.”
“When you chase monsters, you’re really chasing yourself.” Jordan grabbed her hand, striding toward the building. “Watch your step on the stairs.”
Wow. They were definitely going to discuss his family tree later. Katie gingerly stepped over a damaged board, crossing the destroyed porch and entering the dark dwelling. The stench of wet dog hit her immediately. Her stomach rolled. She took an involuntary step away. A warm hand settled on her back, providing comfort. Somehow Jordan had always known how to calm her.
She gathered courage and looked around. Dead and half-eaten animals covered the kitchen counters to the left, a ripped sofa perched against the wall to the right. Different colors of fur were embedded in the old cushions. No bathroom appeared visible, but Baye stood next to the one interior doorway, anger on his face.
He kept her gaze.
Icy fingers danced down her spine. “What?”
“Look inside the bedroom.” He tilted his head inside the doorway.
The air thickened. A familiar oiliness covered her skin. Evil. “Brent’s bedroom?” She walked inside and stopped short. The room was devoid of furniture except for a filthy mattress on the floor. The window had been boarded up, but enough light shone through the gaps to highlight the walls. Lance sat on his back haunches, ears twitching.
Jordan swore from behind her, brushing past to go closer to the photographs lining the wall. Pictures of her. In front of her building, at a movie theater with Maggie, at the grocery store. He whirled on her, fury lifting his lip. “Explain this.”
She stepped back. “I ... I ... can’t.” A picture from last week when she’d met a friend in a bar caught her eye. Maggie had arranged her first date with Mitch. The guy had been a football player more interested in talking about shoes than football. She hadn’t noticed anybody taking pictures, or even taking an interest in them. How was this possible?
“Werewolves don’t fucking take pictures.” Jordan swept an arm out. “Somebody got close enough to you, several times, to take your picture.” He pivoted and peered at the neatly arranged collage, walking along the wall. Finally, he turned toward Baye. “You and Lance aren’t in any—these were taken when you two weren’t around.”
“Which means the photographer was probably shifter, demon, or vampire,” Baye growled. “We would’ve sensed them.”
Katie shoved hair out of her eyes. “My senses aren’t as good as they used to be, but still ...” Why hadn’t she noticed someone taking so many pictures? Maggie hadn’t noticed, either.
Jordan glanced at Baye over her head. “You know what this means, right?”
“Yes. Brent has a friend.” Baye stared at the photographs. “Unbelievable.”
Lance padded all four legs forward, tiger gaze on one photograph. The one taken during her date. He snarled.
Jordan frowned, ripping the picture off the wall. “What?”
Katie peered over his shoulder. “That’s Mitch Meyers. He’s a football player I went on a date with last week.” She ignored the sudden stiffening of Jordan’s entire body.
Baye exhaled. “Shit. That’s the name of the human-turned-werewolf Lance went to the hospital to research last night.”
Dread had Katie freezing in place. “Mitch was turned into a werewolf?”
“Yes.” Fury spun red through Baye’s feline features. “Lance kidnapped him from the hospital last night and, well, took him down.”
Lance butted her thigh in support and apology. Absently, she reached down and scratched his ears. A human couldn’t survive a werewolf bite ... Lance had to kill Mitch.
Her gaze remained on the picture of the tall football player, a smile on his face, a beer in his hand. She bit her lip, fear slamming through her. Mitch was dead. All because he’d bought her a drink.
Somebody was working
with
a werewolf.
Somebody who had been watching her.
Chapter 6
K
atie paced back and forth by the kitchen table, her mind whirling. She and the men had all showered and cleaned up quickly. For once the calm tones of her apartment failed to provide comfort. Even the handmade tablecloth lovingly stitched by her mother appeared odd with the pictures spread all over the lace. Thank God her mother was safely away on a cruise right then. Millie would be furious somebody was stalking her daughter—and would turn all feline and protective—probably insisting Katie hide while she hunted the threat. For now, Katie would protect her mother and keep her away from danger.
Katie turned toward her friend. “Frank is dead, too?”
Lance nodded, hanging up the phone. He frowned, his tone gentling. “Car accident two months ago. The police report said there was alcohol involved.”
She bit back a sob, dropping into the chair next to Baye. “Frank didn’t drink. Said he had an allergy to alcohol.” The accountant was a nice guy she went on two dates with. Once to a movie and the other time to a festival in the French Quarter. Unfortunately, they’d spent most of the time talking about his ex-girlfriend until they both realized he should go win the woman back. Now, because he’d hung out with Katie, he was dead.
Jordan leaned against the refrigerator, a scowl on his face. “That makes three.”
The third man, a police detective from up north, had died on the job two weeks previous. They’d only gone on one date. Lance had promised to investigate further to see if that was what really happened. Katie knew deep down the cop died because of her, too.
Lance rubbed his chin, blue eyes flashing. Most tigers had green eyes, but not Lance. Bluer than blue, the color had made many a woman sigh when the squad had been out enjoying a drink after work. Or rather, before work while they waited for the moon to rise. He shook his head. “I’m not doubting your abilities or trying to diminish your strength. But I think we should get you out of town until we figure this out. Just like we would if someone stalked Baye.”
“Baloney.” Katie ran her finger along a picture taken of her shopping for apples. First Brent, and now Lance. Somehow she had to conceal her panic and fear from her friends. If they had any clue how badly she wanted to go and hide under the bed, all three men would try to shield her. While she might be ill, for now, she was still a warrior. She
needed
to be a warrior. “Baye wouldn’t hide from a stalker. Neither will I.”
“I didn’t mean hide. Just move to an undisclosed location.” Frustration lined Lance’s face. “We’ll come up with a plan, find this guy, and destroy him. Together.”
Jordan smoothed the photographs into a pile. “No. Call it hiding, call it moving ... either way, you’re flying to headquarters in an hour.”
Anger heated Katie’s ears. Her squad understood her ... they trusted her. Jordan wanted her to run without even discussing the matter. “I’m not afraid of this guy.” She kept her tone level as she told the lie.
“Don’t care. Until the next full moon, I’m your Alpha, and I’m ordering you to Realm Headquarters.” Jordan tossed her a notepad and pen. “Write down anyone you’ve spent time with the last few years. Mainly men, but we don’t want to rule out women. This stalker might not be selective.”
His absolute refusal to listen wiped away the anger, leaving hurt. Yet she still owed him, and would go to Realm Headquarters in an effort to help him find a way to beat the moon. Then she’d return to hunting down werewolves until not one remained. “A werewolf stalker.” She shook her head. “How is it possible Brent killed these people? I mean, how could he have gotten to the cop?”
Lance flipped open his phone to read. “Police report. Says there was a firefight in a northern bayou, bodies fell into the marsh. Animals tore up the detective pretty good by the time the authorities found him and fished him out.”
Bile rose in Katie’s throat. She gagged and swallowed repeatedly. Torn up by animals? Damn Brent. “I don’t believe this.”
Fury lifted Jordan’s lip. “Either Brent or his picture-taking buddy has to be responsible.” The lion gestured to the neatly stacked pile of photographs. “All three men who died are in those pictures.”
As were several other people. Katie sucked in a deep breath to keep from puking.
Lance eyed the photographs. “Realm Headquarters is too obvious. We need to get you somewhere off the grid while we figure this out.”
Jordan kept his gaze on the photos as if by staring the answers would come clear. “No. Headquarters is secure ... and we need more blood tests. Katie goes with me.”
“You mean the headquarters
in Oregon
? Not exactly a big secret.” Lance reached to pat her hand, his palm warm and comforting. “Besides, the virus in your blood makes you unstable, Jordan.”
Jordan pushed off the fridge, his lids lowering.
Panic swept down Katie’s throat. “Jordan’s fine. Emma will cure him and that’ll be the end of the virus.”
“Right.” Lance tightened his hold. “We’ve fought together, Katie. We’re a team. Baye and I can keep you safe.”
Jordan snarled. “You and Baye didn’t even know she was being followed, much less stalked and photographed. How the hell can you keep her safe?” His hand swept the photographs, sending several flying.
Katie swallowed. Lance had saved her butt, more than once. They were a good team. For the first time, indecision regarding her path had her faltering. She was a good hunter. But she’d wanted Jordan her entire life. If nothing else, she owed him and would try to help him survive the virus.
Baye watched the interplay, no expression on his face.
Lance released her, standing to glare at Jordan. “How safe is she with you?”
Jordan’s nostrils flared. “I won’t hurt her.”
Disbelief had the tiger’s brows lifting. “Really? Why do I find that hard to believe?”
Jordan charged, hands fisting in Lance’s shirt and shoving the man against the wall.
Face-to-face, furious, both males snarled low. Raw energy and power vibrated around the apartment. Panic rushed to Katie’s legs.
She jumped toward them, slapping a hand on the biceps of the deadly cats. “You knock it off, right now.” That was all she needed. The men in her life coming to blows. There were too many Alpha males in her business. Damn heroes thought they could control the world and keep her safe. She cast a frustrated glare at the one not involved. “Do something.”
Baye shrugged. “Let them fight it out.” He yanked a beer off the counter and took a deep swallow. “They both want to protect you, and neither has figured out they have the same goal.”
Sometimes he was such an asshole.
She tightened her hold on the vibrating muscles beneath her palms. “Please stop. Lance, I appreciate you’re trying to protect me, but I need to go to headquarters. Jordan, release my friend.”
For two beats, nobody moved. Then Jordan unclenched his hands, backing away.
Lance straightened his shirt, his gaze on the lion. But he directed his words to her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ll call when we get there.” She’d miss her friends. But she had a plan.
Lance nodded, finally turning to face her. “We’ll trace the rest of these people, Kate. And we’ll go after Brent at the same time. The bastard only has four nights until the full moon, and we’ll be ready. Trust me.”
“I do.” Fear welled up in her along with the bile. If anything happened to Baye or Lance, she didn’t know what she’d do. They’d bonded in fear, fight, and survival. “I’ll miss you.”
Jordan cleared his throat. “Time to go.”
Katie clutched the armrests of the small private plane, her heart beating so fast her breath caught. After a tearful good-bye with both Lance and Baye, she’d silently headed to the airport with Jordan. Guilt from the deaths kept her quiet. Logically, she knew her dates’ deaths weren’t her fault.
Guilt defied logic.
Jordan lifted an eyebrow across from her. He had no problem facing backward as they rose into the air. “You still hate flying?”
“Cats shouldn’t fly.” No way would she land on her feet if they dropped from the sky. Not this far. Attempting to force a smile, she tried to relax her shoulders from solid rock to liquid cement ... without success. “I’m surprised you’re okay with flying considering what a control freak you are.”
“How many men have you dated the last ten years, anyway?” He grimaced after saying the words, as if he hadn’t meant to let them out.
“Enough,” she said softly. She’d compared every single man to Jordan, and not one had come close to being what she wanted. “Of course, I hadn’t thought dating me would be a death sentence.”
“Not your fault.” He’d tied his thick hair back at the neck after his shower, and her fingers had the oddest urge to yank the strands free. “Date any shifters? Or just humans?”
The conversation made her twitchy. “Both.”
“Get serious with anybody?”
“Does it matter?”
He sighed. “Yes. I don’t want your dating life to matter to me, but it does.”
She blew out a breath. “Is it just me, or was that a, ‘Gee, your ass doesn’t look as big as usual in those jeans,’ kind of compliment?”
He grinned. “Sorry. You know what I mean.”
Actually, she didn’t. Not really. But she nodded anyway. “I dated my History of Warfare professor for quite a while last year.” She’d graduated from the university with a knowledge necessary for her squad. Even if she couldn’t fight like a healthy shifter, the battle plans she created bordered on brilliant, according to Baye.
Jordan quirked a lip. “I hope you got an A.”
“Of course.” They hadn’t started dating until after the class had concluded, but Jordan didn’t need to know the details. “I also took a cooking class.”
Humor flirted with Jordan’s full lips. “Did you ace the cooking class?”
“No.” In fact, she’d been asked to leave after she’d set the kitchen on fire for the third time. She and the professor agreed she’d take a C and never return.
“I’m not, er, surprised.” Jordan glanced at the clouds whirling by outside the small windows.
“Maggie took classes at the same time and majored in philosophy.”
“Does she help fight?” Jordan cracked his neck.
“Not usually.” Someday maybe Maggie would be well enough to fight, but that day hadn’t arrived.
Katie’s head settled against the back of her chair, and she studied Jordan from half-closed lids. Concentrating on his symmetrical face was a lot better than imagining herself dropping a zillion feet to hit concrete. A slight purple bruise from the fight with Brent covered the right side of Jordan’s jaw, emphasizing strength and muscle. The cords of his neck were all male, so masculine she’d imagined running her mouth along the firmness many times. In fact, she’d like to take a bite right where his prominent jaw met the sweet spot under his ear.
As if he could read her mind, his eyes flared with heat. “What are you thinking about?”
“The kiss in my apartment.” The moment hadn’t left her thoughts much. And now she wanted to think about anything but the trail of death she’d left in New Orleans.
He licked his lips in thought. She fought a groan in response. Desire began to shove fear of flying out of her consciousness.
The plane leveled off.
“Yeah. The kiss was probably a mistake.” He met her gaze squarely, his stunning eyes devoid of expression.
She’d known Jordan most of her life. When he lacked expression, it wasn’t lack of interest. He often made a calculated effort to hide his current thoughts or feelings. Interesting. Her fingers found the clasp of the seat belt, and she freed herself.
He lifted his chin. “What are you doing?”
“Relaxing.”
He settled into his chair. “Kate?” His voice held bite this time. “Have you been sleeping with Lance?”
The question jerked her head back. How could he think she’d sleep with someone in her squad? She and Lance were friends—the best of friends. The cat had saved her life numerous times, and she kept him safe, too. Jordan had no right to question her about the tiger. “None of your business.”
“Oh, I think it is,” he said softly. Too softly.
Temper stretched awake inside her. “Well, I wouldn’t call what we do
sleeping
. Especially when Baye joins in.”
Jordan blinked. Then a slow grin spread across his face. “Into ménage now, are you?”
“Yep.” She lifted her chin. “Especially since Baye always brings bullwhips. I do love a good bullwhip.”
Jordan threw back his head and laughed. “That’s a good one. Okay. You’ve made your point. I’m sorry for questioning you. I shouldn’t have.”
She wished he had the right to question her—that he wanted the right. “What about you? Have you been dating anyone?” Her shoulders stiffened for the blow.