Lion's Share
Page 19
“I have the internet and a functional understanding of my map app.” She held her phone out to show me that she’d already plotted our route to the crime scene. And that it was, at a glance, almost directly on the way to the lodge.
“But where’d you get the address? They don’t release stuff like that.”
“The police and the news stations don’t, but sicko crime scene junkies who run voyeuristic blogs do.”
“Well, aren’t you…” Exhausting. “…resourceful.”
“Thanks. And since we’re in a hurry to get this thing shut down before the killer exposes the existence of shifters to all of humanity, can you really justify delaying the investigation just to take me back to the lodge?”
“Nice try.” Even if she had a valid point.
“Come on; you know I’m right. What’s the harm in stopping on the way home to scope things out? The killer isn’t there anymore, right? So, it’s not like I’d be in danger or anything. And you just admitted I’m resourceful. I might actually be useful if you give me a chance.”
“No.”
Abby scowled, and I caught the reckless gleam in her eyes too late to do anything about it. “This is because I kissed you, isn’t it?”
My fists clenched so hard around the steering wheel that it creaked. “No.” It was because she’d railroaded me into hiring her, which had started our working relationship off on the wrong foot. But I couldn’t admit that without sounding petty and unprofessional. “Are you using humor as a self-defense mechanism, or do you have no verbal filter?”
“Why? You have a problem with me kicking the elephant in the car?”
“Kicking the… Are you speaking in riddles?”
She laughed, and the comfortable quality of that sound caught me off guard. “You know, the elephant in the room? Only we’re in a car.” She rolled her eyes at my blank look. “It means we’re both avoiding a subject that makes us uncomfortable.”
“I know what it means, but your rephrase was less than helpful.”
Her laughter said she didn’t believe me.
“And I’m not uncomfortable.”
“You are so uncomfortable. But I can’t decide if that’s because you didn’t like the kiss or because you did.”
“It’s not… I don’t…” I was uncomfortable because we’d made a big mistake, and officially, I wanted to forget it ever happened.
Unofficially, I wanted to replay the moment over, and over, and over.
“Why don’t we talk about something else,” I suggested. “Anything else.”
“No problem. Let’s revisit the issue of the murder house and how I’m going with you to investigate.”
“You’re not going.”
“Seriously, Jace, who would be better at training me than you?”
“Flattery? You’ve struck a new low.” But the daredevil look in her eyes told me that was only the beginning.
Abby laid one hand over her heart in mock horror. “This is because I kissed you!”
I swerved onto the shoulder of the road and stomped on the brake. When I turned to scowl at her, those big brown eyes were staring at me expectantly, but it was the anxious beating of her heart that convinced me. She wasn’t just being a pain in the ass—this really meant something to her.
I exhaled slowly. “If I let you come, will you please stop kicking that poor elephant?”
Her triumphant smile could have lit up the Dark Ages. “What elephant?”
“Are you sure this is the place?” Abby held her phone up to compare the image on her screen with the one visible through the windshield: the last house on a street that dead-ended in front of a small wooded patch of land. “This house is the wrong color. Either you or the sicko crime scene junkies have made a mistake.” She turned to me with a wicked smile. “My money’s on you.”
“O ye of no faith at all. That is the wrong house. The one we’re here for is on the other side of those woods.” I chuckled at her sheepish expression. “We can’t park in front of the scene of a vicious, mysterious mauling and not expect neighbors—or sicko crime scene junkies—to be curious, can we?” I lifted one brow at her, ridiculously pleased to have struck her speechless, even momentarily. “Guess you’re not quite ready to replace me as Alpha yet, huh?”
She pulled her hair into a poofy ponytail, avoiding my gaze. “I wasn’t trying to… I’m just trying to help.”
“I know. Grab that box behind your seat.” I got out of the Pathfinder and circled it to open the back hatch, then dug through the junk for a few specific items. When I returned to the front of the car, Abby was staring at the small box in her lap.
“This is an ammo box.” She held it up, and sunlight glared across the print.
“Yes.”
“It’s empty.”
“It’s just for show. Set it on the dashboard.”
Abby frowned, but complied, and when she got out of the car, I draped a used paper shooting target over the arm of her chair. I dropped a receipt for the ammo and a trip to a gun range on the center console, then wedged a rolled-up hunting magazine into the space where my windshield met the dashboard.
“We’re hunters?” Her brows rose.
“That’s the idea. We’re here to hunt for the beast who killed that poor man on the other side of the woods.” Which was close to the truth.
“Clever.”
“I have my moments.” I eyed her white down jacket, the only one she’d brought from the dorms. “Are you warm enough?”
“Yup.” Abby grinned. “I run hot.”
Was that a double entendre? Or was she just pointing out the obvious—that a shifter’s metabolism kept us both slim and warm?
She closed her door and I locked the car with my key fob, then caught up with her as she stepped into the woods. “So, what’s the plan?”
“First, we scout to make sure no one’s home. Unless there’s an app for that too.”
“Give it a couple of years, and there’ll be one that scans for human heat signatures.”
“Until then, we’ll have to use what nature gave us.” Our eyes and ears, of course. And our noses. Cats can’t track by scent, but we have very well-developed senses of smell, and we can identify nearly every odor we come into contact with. “When we’re sure the house is empty, I’ll find us a way in.”
“But where’d you get the address? They don’t release stuff like that.”
“The police and the news stations don’t, but sicko crime scene junkies who run voyeuristic blogs do.”
“Well, aren’t you…” Exhausting. “…resourceful.”
“Thanks. And since we’re in a hurry to get this thing shut down before the killer exposes the existence of shifters to all of humanity, can you really justify delaying the investigation just to take me back to the lodge?”
“Nice try.” Even if she had a valid point.
“Come on; you know I’m right. What’s the harm in stopping on the way home to scope things out? The killer isn’t there anymore, right? So, it’s not like I’d be in danger or anything. And you just admitted I’m resourceful. I might actually be useful if you give me a chance.”
“No.”
Abby scowled, and I caught the reckless gleam in her eyes too late to do anything about it. “This is because I kissed you, isn’t it?”
My fists clenched so hard around the steering wheel that it creaked. “No.” It was because she’d railroaded me into hiring her, which had started our working relationship off on the wrong foot. But I couldn’t admit that without sounding petty and unprofessional. “Are you using humor as a self-defense mechanism, or do you have no verbal filter?”
“Why? You have a problem with me kicking the elephant in the car?”
“Kicking the… Are you speaking in riddles?”
She laughed, and the comfortable quality of that sound caught me off guard. “You know, the elephant in the room? Only we’re in a car.” She rolled her eyes at my blank look. “It means we’re both avoiding a subject that makes us uncomfortable.”
“I know what it means, but your rephrase was less than helpful.”
Her laughter said she didn’t believe me.
“And I’m not uncomfortable.”
“You are so uncomfortable. But I can’t decide if that’s because you didn’t like the kiss or because you did.”
“It’s not… I don’t…” I was uncomfortable because we’d made a big mistake, and officially, I wanted to forget it ever happened.
Unofficially, I wanted to replay the moment over, and over, and over.
“Why don’t we talk about something else,” I suggested. “Anything else.”
“No problem. Let’s revisit the issue of the murder house and how I’m going with you to investigate.”
“You’re not going.”
“Seriously, Jace, who would be better at training me than you?”
“Flattery? You’ve struck a new low.” But the daredevil look in her eyes told me that was only the beginning.
Abby laid one hand over her heart in mock horror. “This is because I kissed you!”
I swerved onto the shoulder of the road and stomped on the brake. When I turned to scowl at her, those big brown eyes were staring at me expectantly, but it was the anxious beating of her heart that convinced me. She wasn’t just being a pain in the ass—this really meant something to her.
I exhaled slowly. “If I let you come, will you please stop kicking that poor elephant?”
Her triumphant smile could have lit up the Dark Ages. “What elephant?”
“Are you sure this is the place?” Abby held her phone up to compare the image on her screen with the one visible through the windshield: the last house on a street that dead-ended in front of a small wooded patch of land. “This house is the wrong color. Either you or the sicko crime scene junkies have made a mistake.” She turned to me with a wicked smile. “My money’s on you.”
“O ye of no faith at all. That is the wrong house. The one we’re here for is on the other side of those woods.” I chuckled at her sheepish expression. “We can’t park in front of the scene of a vicious, mysterious mauling and not expect neighbors—or sicko crime scene junkies—to be curious, can we?” I lifted one brow at her, ridiculously pleased to have struck her speechless, even momentarily. “Guess you’re not quite ready to replace me as Alpha yet, huh?”
She pulled her hair into a poofy ponytail, avoiding my gaze. “I wasn’t trying to… I’m just trying to help.”
“I know. Grab that box behind your seat.” I got out of the Pathfinder and circled it to open the back hatch, then dug through the junk for a few specific items. When I returned to the front of the car, Abby was staring at the small box in her lap.
“This is an ammo box.” She held it up, and sunlight glared across the print.
“Yes.”
“It’s empty.”
“It’s just for show. Set it on the dashboard.”
Abby frowned, but complied, and when she got out of the car, I draped a used paper shooting target over the arm of her chair. I dropped a receipt for the ammo and a trip to a gun range on the center console, then wedged a rolled-up hunting magazine into the space where my windshield met the dashboard.
“We’re hunters?” Her brows rose.
“That’s the idea. We’re here to hunt for the beast who killed that poor man on the other side of the woods.” Which was close to the truth.
“Clever.”
“I have my moments.” I eyed her white down jacket, the only one she’d brought from the dorms. “Are you warm enough?”
“Yup.” Abby grinned. “I run hot.”
Was that a double entendre? Or was she just pointing out the obvious—that a shifter’s metabolism kept us both slim and warm?
She closed her door and I locked the car with my key fob, then caught up with her as she stepped into the woods. “So, what’s the plan?”
“First, we scout to make sure no one’s home. Unless there’s an app for that too.”
“Give it a couple of years, and there’ll be one that scans for human heat signatures.”
“Until then, we’ll have to use what nature gave us.” Our eyes and ears, of course. And our noses. Cats can’t track by scent, but we have very well-developed senses of smell, and we can identify nearly every odor we come into contact with. “When we’re sure the house is empty, I’ll find us a way in.”
