Blind Wolf Bluff: Shifter Romance (Vanguard Elite Book 3) Page 8

  He relaxed into his chair and watched as she ate with gusto. The television had changed shows and now the news played. This was more to his preference.

  “We don’t need to be married. We could just be lov—what the fuck?” He jumped to his feet, chair hitting the table behind him.

  On the television, a camera zoomed in on Blain standing at a crime scene with the FBI—his blind wolf who was supposed to be keeping a low profile. Not be on national TV.

  “Sources are speculating that the killer might not be human. Homeland Security teams have been cited in Chicago, but suspects have not been named.”

  Sheriff Lee pushed her plate away and twisted around. “Isn’t that one of your shifters?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed. “I lent him to the FBI. What a fucking mistake.”

  “You what?” She turned her back on the news report. “They asked you for help.”

  “Not directly.” FBI with a direct link to him? Wouldn’t that be a nightmare? “Blain.” His wolf finally answered the cell phone. “You’re on the evening news. Report.” He listened to Blain’s abbreviated account of the last few days. “Homeland is in Chicago. I don’t want you near them. Come home. Now.”

  Sheriff Lee appeared too interested in his conversation.

  “I can’t leave now. I’m so close,” was his wolf’s response.

  “It’s a girl, isn’t it?” Next time he agreed to train a group of shifters, there would be castration involved. Or maybe in couples.

  He rubbed his chin and filed the idea for future thought. Ever since two of his males had found their mates, they’d grown more reliable, if not a bit too protective. He could work with this.

  “Pallas, I’m making a real difference for once. Don’t make me leave.” Cute how Blain thought he had the power to force him home.

  “The option to return remains open. Don’t die. That’s an order.” He hung up.

  Something in the sheriff’s face changed. It was so fast he’d almost missed it. For a moment, he thought he glimpsed admiration. Must have been the caffeine.

  She tossed some bills on the table. Enough to easily cover her meal and his coffee.

  “The waitress said it was free.” He raised his hairless eyebrow.

  “Nothing is free when you’re Sheriff. Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “For the pleasure of my company?” One could only hope.

  “To make sure you don’t snack on anyone.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Hot shower, room service, and heating—how would Blain ever return to the rugged conditions of the bootcamp? No electricity, no heat, no Sonya. Pallas had cut them off from modern luxury, and for once, Blain understood why. It was a distraction.

  He kept the television off—never mind the lights—and sipped his coffee while listening to the sounds outside his room. His breakfast sat heavy in his stomach, but there was no promise for a meal later, and he didn’t work well while hungry.

  Sonya never returned to his room last night. She had run at William’s call, shame sharp in her scent. What had the other agent said to her? After their brief conversation inside William’s room, she had bypassed Blain’s and gone to her own. Blain wished he could have heard, but even his hearing had limitations. Full stomach or not, he wanted a piece of William, but biting the lead investigator would be a PR disaster—as bad as this killer.

  Blain set his cup down with clash of ceramic and jumped to his feet. Familiar footsteps moved in the hall away from his room. The ones he’d been patiently waiting for. He grabbed his winter jacket and exited. If Sonya thought she’d escape the hunt that easily, she was more naïve than he’d figured.

  Her steps hesitated as she spotted him.

  “Morning, Agent Camp.” He joined her at the elevator, sliding his jacket on. “Have you had breakfast?”

  “I don’t eat breakfast. Just coffee.”

  “Black, from the smell.” Inside his head, it felt like his wolf paced, claws out, ears back. She should eat. She didn’t take care of herself very well. Those old injuries he’d found last night worried him. She took unnecessary risks. He’d have to cure her of this habit fast.

  “William is setting up a base at the local police station across the street. We’re meeting to go over yesterday’s developments.”

  “Am I invited?” She hadn’t even stopped to retrieve him.

  Yesterday, he’d been her partner. Now, she seemed to want to avoid him. The tick in his jaw started and he consciously relaxed his clenched teeth.

  “I was going to send Sean for you once I knew we were ready to start.” The elevator arrived and they entered together. He made sure not to brush up against her. She smelled like cornered prey. Fear, anxiety, and anger interchanged in waves.

  He leaned against the far wall of the elevator. The hotel was only four stories so the ride was short. “Are things going to be this awkward from now on?”

  The doors slid open.

  “Probably,” she whispered before exiting.

  He followed, resisting the urge to pull her back inside and finish the conversation. They were two consenting adults. He didn’t understand her sudden scent of shame. Stopping short, he let her go ahead to the conference room across the street.

  She was ashamed of being with a blind shifter. He couldn’t conceive of any other excuse for her behavior. Life wasn’t a fairytale. Not all matings ended well. He rubbed the hollow ache his chest. It still hurt though. Fuck that.

  Snapping open his cane, he used it to maneuver around the lobby to the coffee station. He busied his hands by making himself a cup. Half-and-half, four sugars...

  Sonya’s footsteps faded behind him. He’d follow her scent to the meeting room. It could be worse. She could be the type of female who hovered around him, trying to make his coffee. Maybe he was reading too much in their interactions, or lack thereof. She was an independent, strong woman. A human. He couldn’t expect her to react like a shifter. A mate of his kind would have been moving into his room by now.

  Maybe they had been doomed before even starting, since he’d never dated a human. He’d been changed to a shifter very young, at the age of sixteen, and very illegally.

  He pulled out the cell phone Pallas had lent him. It was voice-activated, and Ian had programmed some numbers in it for him, but who would he call for advice? The Vanguards? A five-hundred-year-old bloodthirsty vampire? He would do better talking to the desk clerk than reach out to Pallas.

  “Hey, Blain.” Sean clapped his shoulder. “Good work yesterday.” He poured himself a cup of coffee.

  Blain nodded, his tongue suddenly dead in his mouth. Sean smelled like eggs, bacon, and Irish Spring. His easygoing manner appealed to Blain. He seemed to accept their differences openly and with enthusiasm.

  “You seem pensive. Is the case getting to you?” Sean sipped his coffee. The lobby was relatively empty, except for the desk clerk. “First one is always the hardest. Don’t let it take root inside of you like Sonya does. There lies problems.”

  “Agent Camp seems angry.”

  “Don’t let her get to you either. She’s a tough nut to crack, but she’s the most determined agent I’ve ever met.”

  “You know her well?” He closed the space between him and Sean, looming over the shorter man. He didn’t care how nice the other agent was. Sonya belonged to him whether she liked it or not.

  “We’re not best friends, but I’ve worked on another case with her. She doesn’t eat or sleep until she’s caught her killer.” Sean shifted his weight on his feet. As if trying to decide to tell Blain something. “Rumor is, while Sonya was in Quantico, her sister was murdered by a serial killer. It kind of puts things in perspective when you know that part.”

  Blain nodded. It did. She was a driven hunter and wouldn’t stop until she caught her prey. Not even for the temptation of a mate. Maybe she thought he would distract her from catching her quarry when really he could be her partner. Sonya acted like a lone-wolf and
his presence threatened that. “Thanks, Sean. That actually helps a lot.”

  So he needed to pull his head out of his ass and realize it wasn’t about him. That Sonya had ghosts goading her behavior.

  “Come on, we’re meeting at the police station. Do you need me to carry your coffee or guide you?” Sean’s coffee sloshed in his cup as he shifted it from hand-to-hand.

  “I’ll just follow you.”

  The trip was short and brisk. The wind had died down overnight but left a sharp bite in the air. Desks cluttered the small police station; Blain maneuvered the obstacle course with Sean’s aide.

  Inside the conference room, Blain smelled seven people. Sonya, William, Sean, and four strangers at the back. It sounded like they were setting things on the table. CSI techs, maybe?

  Sonya took him by the arm. The small gesture had him sigh in relief. She didn’t have any trouble touching him. Maybe she didn’t know how to deal with her conflicting desires?

  “Sit here.” She guided him to a chair and sat next to him. “We’re about to start.”

  William stood on the other side of the conference table. “The techs have been processing evidence we recovered yesterday. Both scenes have been processed. What do you have, Sean?”

  “Sonya had the foresight to ask Tracy’s friends for their cell phones. We’re going through the data now, looking at selfies and other pictures for any matches,” responded Sean.

  William shuffled some papers. “Sonya?”

  “We interviewed Tracy’s family and friends. No one recalls anything unusual. The shortcut she used is popular for those living on Tracy’s street, so he watched her for a few days before making his move. He knew her route and waited for her in that field.” She sounded so cold and distant.

  “Okay, moving forward. Sean, continue cross analyzing the cell phone data for any leads. Pictures, text, and whatever those kids do.”

  “Snapchat,” Sean added.

  “Yeah, that stuff. Blain, we’ll send you back to Chicago where you can eliminate the scents of staff at the last crime scene, like we discussed before all this happened. Sonya—”

  “The scent I found in the woods matches the one in Chicago.” Blain leaned forward, staring in William’s general direction. He knew from experience that most people found his gaze unsettling. “We were checking CSI teams to eliminate the possibility of tracking the wrong person. There’s no point of doing that now.”

  William wasn’t stupid. He knew this already. Blain suspected sending him back to Chicago was more to uncover any closet shifters on William’s team. He wouldn’t be a pawn to someone losing their job over discrimination and human bias. “I’m more useful here.” With Sonya as his partner. He wouldn’t let William separate them. The only one who could do that was her.

  *

  Without touching him, Sonya could sense Blain’s presence like a tangible thing. It caressed her skin and made it hard to concentrate.

  She should have returned to his room last night. This unfinished thing between them hurt like an exposed nerve. She had hoped ignoring her feelings would make things better. She’d never been smart when it came to men.

  “Blain is right. We need him here. He views crime scenes differently than we do. We never would have gotten this far and found the recent crime scenes without him.”

  “If they are crime scenes. So far, all we have is what he smelled. That’s circumstantial at best.” William leaned against the table he’d taken as his desk.

  The chair scraped as Sonya pushed to her feet. “The cigarette butts found in the forest might match those at the last crime scene. We have tire tracks and boot prints in the field that can tie this shifter to the scene.” Why was William being so stubborn? He had been the one who called for shifter help in the first place. “If not for Blain, this case never would have been tied to the ones in Chicago.” Her voice rose with each word. “For all we know, the killer has taken other victims from outlying towns that we haven’t even discovered yet.”

  Sean cleared his throat in the loud silence filling the room following her outburst.

  The techs—those compiling evidence bags to be shipped back to the city—stared as if waiting for a brawl to break loose.

  “So that’s settled.” Blain gave her a smug smile. “I stay.”

  How did he know where to aim that lethal grin?

  She tugged at her suit jacket before sitting again.

  Blain handed over her coffee. “We should get you some breakfast.” He seems ready to burst with pride and when he said breakfast—it sounded more like hot-heavy-break-the-headboard sex.

  She took a long, deep gulp of her drink and let Mr. Caffeine settle her nerves.

  William crossed his arms. “You have any suggestions, Blain, then?” The question held an obvious challenge.

  “As a matter of fact, I do. Can we run a shifter virus test postmortem on the victims that have already been discovered?”

  William uncrossed his arms and stood straighter. “What for?”

  “Shifters are driven by their animal nature. We have three primary instincts. Eat. Pack. Mate.” The last word he directed at Sonya. “He’s not eating the bodies. His antisocial behavior suggests he’s likely a lone-wolf, so no pack.”

  “The girls weren’t sexually violated. We checked each one,” Sean interrupted.

  “When I say mate, I don’t mean sex.” Blain rested his arm possessively on the back of Sonya’s chair.

  “You mean like a wife, but it’s more than that, right?” Sean’s gaze moved from Blain to Sonya and back again.

  “You can divorce a wife. A mate is a lifelong commitment.” Blain’s fingers tightened on her shoulder.

  She tilted her head to the side. “Are you implying he’s trying to make a mate?”

  Blain shrugged. “We lack any other motive.”

  “He’s a sociopath. They don’t need a logical motive.” She rubbed her temples, easing her growing headache. She had dreamed of her sister again last night. It had been months since she’d had the nightmares. She’d thought she was getting better, but this case had brought back bad memories. “But it would explain why he’s burning the bodies.”

  “How so?” William asked.

  “If we found dead girls with animal bite marks, Homeland would have been called instead of us. They’re better at hunting rogue shifters,” Blain responded.

  Sean sighed. “Maybe we should turn the case over to them now.”

  William shook his head. “I’ll keep them in the loop, but the only evidence we have that it’s a shifter is Blain’s nose. We keep the case.”

  Blain visibly appeared relieved. She couldn’t blame him. Homeland was known to shoot first and ask questions later.

  “I’ll order the tests.” William gave Sonya a nod. “Good job, Blain.”

  Sean grunted and raised a hand to catch their attention. “We have a hit on the cell phones.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Blain followed Sonya’s cinnamon scent to where the others gathered to observe whatever Sean had found at the tech table. She was confusing both his human and wolf sides. One moment she was building walls between them and the next tearing them down to defend him. If she truly had no interest in his pursuit, sending him back to Chicago would have been the easiest solution.

  Nothing about Sonya was easy. Maybe she wanted him to stay because he made a difference. He could help solve this case. Maybe she hoped he’d leave well enough alone and be professional. Silly girl. He was as much a wolf as he was human. Her soul fit his like a missing puzzle piece. She must have sensed this, or why let him in so close last night, then shove him away this morning?

  He let the agents crowd around Sean since he couldn’t see what the they were excited about.

  “I’ve been running the photos stored in the cell phones we collected from all the victims, friends, and families through a program that cross matches faces to find any connections. These are the results.”

  Blain crossed his arms and wait
ed.

  Without missing a beat, Sonya whispered, “Sean found three pictures with the same man.”

  “Two of them from the Chicago cases and one from the pep rally.” Sean’s fingers made castanet noises on the keyboard. “What are the chances?”

  “Slim.” Sonya didn’t sound convinced. “These two pictures are fuzzy.”

  “He’s in the background and I had to enlarge the photos. Thank God for the selfie craze. With this program, we’ve caught criminals faster.” Sean sounded insulted by Sonya’s lack of enthusiasm.