Wolf Fever

Page 22

She was cute and good. But he didn’t believe it. Although he had wondered what had brought her to the window. And why she had come to see him in the woods. “You seemed irritated with me at first.”
“You’d awakened me. I had worked a twelve-hour shift at the hospital, and I was trying to get some much-needed sleep.” She didn’t sound sincere, and she wouldn’t look him in the eye. Something had kept her from sleeping.
“I’ll try to be more considerate next time. But in the future, if you spy a wolf in the woods and don’t know who he is, don’t seek him out.”
“In the future.” The way she spoke indicated to him, that if she felt driven to do so, she’d take off into the woods again and check him out.
That made his gut wrench with concern. He’d prefer the damsel in distress to be agreeable. Made his work so much easier. He ate the last bite of the tender roast beef sandwich, the meat melting in his mouth. Then he wiped his fingers on the napkin and drew up taller.
“I’ll have to return to Green Valley to pick up some clothes and other articles. Darien and his brothers can keep you safe until then. At most, three hours, and I’ll be back.”
“Thank you.”
Striving for professional, which he sure as hell had lost sight of when he’d first kissed her and then danced with her, Ryan said, “I have a job to do. No need to thank me.”
Her lips curved up slightly. He had the sneaking suspicion she saw right through him. Damned if the more primitive side of him didn’t want to haul her out of her chair and kiss her again. Forget professional.
She gave him a hard nod. “Right. Where will you sleep?”
“Close. No sense in being your bodyguard if I’m not nearby. And, Carol?”
“Hmm?”
“Wear something other than that silky nightgown you wore last night. I don’t need the distraction.” He cast an elusive smile at her, winked, and rose. Then he slipped his credit card back in his wallet and deposited money on the table instead.
“I’ll speak to Darien and then be on my way. Don’t leave the tavern without Darien or his brothers’ escort home.”
She glanced at their table. “I’m sure they wouldn’t think of my leaving without one of them accompanying me.”
Watching Ryan and Carol, two of the bachelor males rose from their seats. “Christ,” Ryan swore under his breath and offered his hand. “Come on. We’ll talk to Darien together, and you can sit at his table until you’re ready to leave.”
Hell, what was wrong with him to get so possessive with her when this was strictly business? But he couldn’t help worrying that this was all turning into a real nightmare.
Chapter 11
AFTER GETTING DARIEN’S APPROVAL TO BE CAROL’S bodyguard, Ryan returned home to grab a few days’ changes of clothes and called on his sub-leader to watch the pack and his sister and to take over mayoral duties as his assistant mayor until he returned.
But his sister was giving him major heartburn. If he hadn’t figured that she’d be more trouble if he took her with him, he’d have left her at the B&B in Silver Town so she would be close by and he could check on her periodically. But her nursery sales were skyrocketing with the advent of spring, and he knew she wouldn’t want to leave her business for anything.
“Chester Ryan McKinley,” Rosalind scolded, as she continued to decorate the fireplace mantel in the living room with greenery, the fragrance of burning lilac candles scenting the air. “Don’t you walk away from me when I’m trying to discuss this with you.”
Ryan stopped in mid-stride and turned to frown at his sister, the only one in his pack who could get away with talking to him like that, but only in the privacy of his home—and she damn well knew it. “The discussion is over.”
“Why? You speak about that woman constantly. You can’t get over how she discovered who the murderer was, when you were investigating the crime just fine with your tried and true scientific methods. Why can’t you believe she’s psychic?
“According to Bertha, the owner of that bed and breakfast you stayed at, you not only went to the games to watch Carol but to the gathering and took her on a date. Now you’re going to be her bodyguard? Admit that you feel something for her. Besides, you can use her on that case you can’t solve.”
“You remember the last time you insisted I use a psychic? What a disaster that was?”
Rosalind’s lips and amber eyes smiled. “All right. So Madame Dulaney was a bona fide fraud. No big deal.”
“No big deal?” His voice rose although he meant to curb his temper, but the false psychic could have cost him everything. “Hell, if I hadn’t agreed to go out with Bennagin’s spoiled-rotten daughter, he would have sued me for everything we own.”
“Your business insurance would have covered it.”
He gave her a scathing look.
She shrugged. “Besides, Miss Hoity-Toity-I’m-Owed-Everything-Under-the-Sun soon gave up on wanting to hang around you. Three dates, and she was glad to get rid of you. You sure know how to make a girl feel unappreciated. Well, in her case, loathed.”
“What did you want me to do? Turn her and make her my mate?” He shook his head at the horrible notion.
Rosaline smiled a little. “No. Then she would have been related to me. But from everything you’ve told me about Carol Wood, this woman’s the real deal.”
“I explained to you that she most likely overheard conversations that led her to the evidence. Nothing to do with psychic predictions. Besides, I don’t need a psychic to tell me that Eleanor’s husband isn’t seeing anyone behind her back. That the woman is paranoid as usual.”
“What about when you get another case? Carol could assist you.” Rosalind tied another pink satin bow on the cedar garland. “You could help me trim for spring, you know.”
“I’m all thumbs when it comes to decorating,” he said.
Her eyes were downcast, and Rosalind’s playful expression had faded. Ryan let out his breath in defeat. He guessed Rosalind missed their mother helping her decorate for the different seasons. He stalked over to the table where cut flowers from her greenhouse sat in crystal vases and a single sprig of mistletoe sat amongst them. He raised a brow.
Rosalind tried to hide a smile. “Why, how’d that get in with my spring greenery? Carol’s a red now. Rare red. Rare female at the right age for mating. Unless you aren’t interested in her because she’s newly turned. But having a newly turned mate offers advantages. You’d be in charge of her, show her the ways of our people, have someone you could mold to your own liking. Seems to me she’d suit your disposition perfectly.”
Ryan snorted. “The woman is not in the least bit biddable.”
That comment brought a real smile to his sister’s lips. She’d like him having a cantankerous mate, he suspected. And hell, his sister and his mate would most likely bond in womanly fashion and gang up on him. Not that he couldn’t deal with them, but he really didn’t need the added aggravation.
He put the mistletoe down on the coffee table and then grabbed a frilly lace bow and fumbled to tie it to the garland. Decorating was a woman’s job. He glanced at the fireplace. The flames blazed hot on this chilly spring night, and wood was already stacked to the hilt in a copper box nearby.
“You’ve chopped enough firewood to keep us warm for the next three years. Which brings me to another point. You only split wood when something’s bothering you. And lately only when Carol Wood’s name comes up in the discussion. Suddenly you’re out chopping down trees again.” She raised a brow.
He ignored her and grabbed another frilly pink bow off the table. His sister was a gardener extraordinaire. When did she become a psychologist in her spare time?
Psychologist… hell, the psychiatrist. Dr. Metzger. The one who’d given Carol so much grief. As soon as he had a chance, he was doing a little research into her story. Problem was that he might not be able to verify that the doctor’s wife had died after Carol had told the doctor her vision, unless Ryan spoke with the psychiatrist and could verify the date. Even then, the doctor probably wouldn’t tell him anything about Carol’s session because of patient confidentiality.
Her mother! But would her mother tell him anything? Only one way to find out.
“I’ve been talking to you, and you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.” Rosalind wove a string of pearls through the garland. “If you put off going after her—and I don’t mean just being her babysitter—Darien Silver will surely convince her to mate with one of his eligible and very willing bachelors. I wouldn’t wait too long. If you want her—”
“Enough, Rosalind! I have no idea where you’ve come up with such nonsense. When have I even hinted I was interested in the woman, except to learn the truth of how she came to know what she did?”
Rosalind pointed with her elbow at the coffee table and continued to wrap the string of pearls around the garland. “In that notebook, you have photos of her.”
“I added photos of many of Darien’s people while I was investigating who might have been involved in the crime.”
Rosalind finished with the pearls, walked back over to the table, flipped open the notebook, and pointed accusingly at the picture of Carol sitting on top—just where he’d left it.
“Right, but why do you have seven photos of Carol? You’ve filed away all the rest of your papers concerning the case, so why are her pictures still out? You said from the start that you didn’t believe she was a suspect.”
“Hell,” he muttered under his breath. Rosalind would be the one to make a mountain out of a ripple in the ground. “The case isn’t closed until I learn how she knew of the evidence that confirmed the murderer’s identity.”
Her eyes round, Rosalind stared at him. “You think she’s a co-conspirator? Guilty of taking part in the murder?”