In the Crossfire (Bloodhaven) (17 page)

“I just did. C’mon, time for sushi.” Naley turned away.

She stopped the girl mid-stride with a firm hand around her elbow. The two men stood on the sidewalk, several feet from them. Isobel bristled at the fixated gleam in their eyes as they focused on Naley.

“Cub,” she said softly, “go say hello to Mrs. Hooper. Now.”

Naley looked at Isobel, then at the two men. Without a word, she disappeared into the store. One of the wolf-shifters started after Naley, but Isobel’s growl stopped him in his tracks.

The man on her right was older, harder, his skin tanned a craggy brown from too much time in the sun. The one on her left was taller, in his early twenties, arrogant chin jutting out. Their shared blond looks indicated they were most likely brothers.

There was something else about them that seemed insidiously familiar, but Isobel couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” she inquired mildly.

The older one, Righty, took his eyes away from the store entrance. “That your cub?” He spoke with a slight brogue.

“Who’s asking?”

“You know ’bout the company she keeps?”

Isobel smiled. It was a cold, inscrutable smile, her favorite to bring out when interrogating a suspect. She could see that neither brother liked her lack of reply, because their expressions turned black.

It was too bad she was off-duty, otherwise she could’ve run their prints. Few shifters carried physical documentation around with them these days. It brought back too many dark memories of being ID’ed and outed to their human counterparts.

Righty tested the air, then flung a sharp look at Isobel. “She bears his scent.”

Well, damn.

After last night, Isobel knew very well whose scent she bore—and would continue to bear for a couple more days, despite any number of showers. No wonder she’d sensed something familiar about these two. She studied the straight line of their noses. She could see the resemblance.

Lefty stared at Isobel in disbelief. “You sure?” he hissed. His tone was flatter, less rhythmic than his brother’s.

“It’s been years, but I’d know the lad’s scent anywhere.”

“Liam would never hang out with a
cat.
”

Isobel’s smile turned as sharp as her blade. “It’s a step up in taste, for a wolf.”

Lefty stiffened, but Righty raised a hand to hold him back. “Where’s Liam?” Righty demanded. “When did you last see him?”

“So many questions,” Isobel murmured. “Yet we haven’t even been formally introduced. Your name, please.”

“
Where is he?
” Lefty roared.

She folded her arms. “I’d say if this Liam you speak of doesn’t want to be found, you should adhere to his wishes.”

“He’s our cousin,” said Righty. “Love the lad, but he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s . . . not well.” He tapped his temple.

Isobel bristled, and that was her mistake. The wolves immediately perked up at that subtle sign of tension.

“We only have his best interests at heart,” Righty coaxed smoothly, even as Lefty’s eyes gleamed gold with triumph. “We just want our cousin to come home.”

“I think your cousin is exactly where he wants to be.”
Until the next time he runs.

“We’re wasting time.” Lefty advanced, nostrils flaring. “Talk, cat.”

Isobel saw the move long before he made it, but she waited anyway. She needed an excuse, after all.

Lefty seized her arm and lunged for her throat. She twisted in his hold and slammed her foot into his knee. The loud snap was followed by his scream of pain. He crumpled onto the sidewalk.

Righty instantly tackled her, attempting to hurl her against the store’s brick facade, but she grabbed him by the wrists and swung around, using the momentum to slam him against the wall instead. The impact did nothing more than knock the breath out of him, but Isobel followed it up with two fingers jabbed in the base of his throat. He crashed to the ground.

He lay flat on his stomach, gasping. She grabbed his arm at the same time that she smashed her heel into his shoulder, right where ball met socket, dislocating it.

Righty writhed on the ground, shuddering wordlessly with pain. Lefty was still curled on his side, clutching his knee and swearing profusely.

Isobel approached the older of the two. She knelt down, one knee pressed meaningfully on his lower back. Gathering a fistful of hair, she pulled his head back, her lips by his ear.

“I could charge you with assault of a Council agent,” she murmured. It was a lie; technically she was on leave and had no authority, but they didn’t have to know. “That’ll put you in our cells for at least a couple of months. You could do with a cooling-off period.”

Righty’s breath came in short, sibilant wheezes. He wouldn’t be able to speak for a while.

She tugged harder on his hair. “You’re not from around here, so I’ll clarify matters for you: we do things differently in Bloodhaven. Your pack doesn’t run this city.” Her tone turned low, deadly, not the least bit teasing: “Go home, wolf.”

She released him and stood up. She watched, unmoving, as Righty eventually stumbled to his feet. He shot her a dirty look before dragging his brother with him. Both of them hobbled away, the younger man still spitting out profanities in a fervent flow.

Isobel waited until they turned the corner. The sidewalk was clear of pedestrians, everyone having decided to give the two wolves—and Isobel—a wide berth. The mother with the stroller had even crossed the street, trotting hastily as she cast Isobel a frightened glance.

“Aunt Iz?”

Isobel turned around. A wide-eyed Naley stood by the store entrance. The owner herself was there as well, resting her hands protectively on top of the girl’s shoulders.

“Mrs. Hooper said they were here before,” Naley whispered.

“Yesterday,” confirmed the older woman. “After Liam and this li’l one here dropped off my cabinet. Those two came by not long afterward, saying they’d tracked Liam here.”

Not good.
Isobel frowned.

“They asked a lot of questions. I told them dozens of people visit my store every day, but they took one look at some of the things on display and recognized his work.”

Isobel checked Mrs. Hooper for signs of injury, but she looked impeccably coiffed. “Did they threaten you?” Aggressive shifter behavior was valid grounds for lodging a nuisance complaint with the Council.

“They tried, but I don’t put up with that sort of nonsense around here.”

Isobel quashed a smile.

“At any rate,” sniffed Mrs. Hooper, “I’m a businesswoman. I’m not about to give up my best vendor to a pair of ill-mannered thugs.”

“Thank you,” Isobel said sincerely. “You have ours and Liam’s gratitude.”

Mrs. Hooper paused. “I am, as I mentioned, a
businesswoman.
” The arch look she gave Isobel was very significant.

Isobel was no fool. She got the message.

She stepped past the threshold, putting an arm around Naley as she led them all into the store. “Come, Mrs. Hooper. I believe you have a rocking chair you’d like to sell me.”

* * *

The sun was beginning its descent over the sky, painting the treetops a brilliant white-gold and the patches of grass a dark crimson. In twenty minutes, the mountains would cast their shadows over the ground, a massive dark cloak that would obscure the earth and send critters scurrying for their dens. The shadows would glide along the landscape as sinuously as a serpent, slide as delicately as a silk robe over a naked woman’s skin.

A beautiful, elegant, naked woman’s skin.

From his vantage point, Liam saw Isobel leave her fortress and head toward his cabin. She was fully clothed, but no matter. He’d take whatever he could get, and maybe even a little more. After last night, he definitely wanted more.

He followed her every move. He couldn’t help it; he was unable to tear his eyes away from her. Isobel was all lithe, luscious curves, a petite body built for combat. Her hair was loose, free from its typical gladiator-like confinement. A thick cacophony of curls tumbled over bronze shoulders. Muscles flexed under soft skin as she strode across the field.

He could still taste her in his mouth.

He saw her stop mid-stride. Her head whipped to the side, then lifted up in his direction. It was as if she, too, shared the same sharp prickle on the back of her neck, this intense sense of mutual awareness. She changed direction and crossed the property toward him.

God, he wanted her.

Liam climbed down the cliff face to meet her.

She waited at the base for him. Liam could feel his heart thumping its way out of his chest as he reached the bottom and stalked toward her. Her lips, the same lips he’d tasted last night—dreamed about after she’d left him flat on his back, still panting—parted slightly at his approach.

Soft, full, and lush. He wanted that mouth. He’d spent the entire night—hell, the entire year—imagining all the ways he could use that mouth. He stopped in front of her, a mere two inches separating him from this sensual, intoxicating woman.

And then he stiffened.

He scented them on her.

It’d been years but he still recognized the smell of his cousins. He couldn’t help instinctively baring teeth. “They found you.”

A few months ago, the very thought of his packmates being so close would’ve sent him heading for the mountains. Now, however, the last thing he wanted to do was leave.

The first thing he wanted to do was rip their throats out.

“What happened?” he demanded. “Did they hurt you?”

His fists clenched, veins standing out prominently along his forearms. The instinctive surge of protectiveness stunned him, but felt natural all the same. He welcomed it. He didn’t stop to examine the reaction, nor to choose his words, even as he saw Isobel’s gaze narrow.

“You insult me, Liam. Do you honestly think me so easily intimidated or overpowered by a couple of snappish, backwoods idiots?”

Liam’s jaw tightened. It didn’t matter that, rationally, he knew Isobel could protect herself. She dealt with rogues and factions on a regular basis, and unpleasant as his former packmates were, Liam knew they weren’t criminals. All that didn’t matter a whit. He didn’t want the pack anywhere near this woman.
His
woman.

His mate.

The realization made him swallow. Roughened his growl. “My cousins, my pack. . . . They don’t always follow the rules. They don’t follow the same code, especially when it . . . when it comes to women.”

Isobel snorted. “Yeah, I figured that out when they got aggressively interested in Naley. Only unsocialized jackasses with a death wish would threaten a female shifter with a cub.”

Liam’s blood ran cold. “They threatened Naley?”

“They saw her with you yesterday. Traced your scent to Hooper’s. Naley and I ran into them on the way to lunch.”

Fuck.
“Is she all right?”

Isobel nodded, and he breathed a small sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. He didn’t know what she was thinking. Was she angry at him? Did she blame him for his cousins’ actions?

Isobel would do anything to ensure Naley’s safety. She’d eliminate every threat, which likely included a tenant whose relations had attempted to intimidate her niece. She could evict him and tell him to stay the hell away from her and Naley.

His heart plummeted to his stomach. He couldn’t let that happen.
Couldn’t.
He had to do everything possible to convince Isobel that he’d never let anything happen to either of them.

He was already forming rapid counterarguments in his head, anything to convince her, when she continued conversationally, “I politely encouraged your dear cousins to redirect their attention to me instead. They weren’t all that receptive to the idea, so we got into a little scuffle.”

Liam tensed as he imagined what this “scuffle” might’ve looked like. Isobel looked unharmed, unmarred, but he couldn’t help stepping closer. He wanted to shove back at all the dangers ever-present in her world. He wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go. He wanted to wrap himself around her—wrap
her
around him, soft, wet, and welcoming—so that she’d know her place was always with him, and his with her.

“Don’t try any of that overprotective wolf shit,” Isobel warned softly.

His lip lifted in a snarl. “Don’t try and stop me.”

“I’ve been at this a long time, Liam.”

“Is that how they got their smell on you? From the ‘scuffle’?” He wanted to rip his cousins to shreds. He didn’t want them tainting the one good thing he’d found in his life.

She surprised him with a grimace. “Damn, I miss that compound. Now I’ll be an open book for the next two weeks.” She hesitated at his perplexed look, then explained, “On-duty agents mask their scent with a specially formulated compound. Helps not to give away their location when hunting down suspects.”

Liam blinked, startled out of his possessive anger.

So that was how he’d missed signs of her arousal. He’d been blind to her attraction to him all these months, and it had never even occurred to him to question it.