Beneath a Rising Moon Read online

  window?

  Though he didn’t look around, his amusement spun

  through her. I spent time in jail for being drunk, not

  breaking and entering. Don’t expect any speed records

  here.

  She sighed impatiently and looked around. They were

  standing in the small alley that ran the length of the block

  behind the row of shops. Around them were Dumpsters

  loaded to overflowing, and the powerful smell hung on

  the crisp air. Behind them was a row of houses, and the

  warm glow peeking past blinds indicated most of the

  occupants were home. They had to be quiet, and they had

  to be careful.

  She wished she was home. In bed. With Duncan.

  Her gaze drifted past the snow-capped rooflines to the

  snow-filled sky. The moon was lost to the night, but she

  didn’t need to see it to know it was rising high. The power

  of it thrummed through her veins. Made her ache to be

  touched, to be loved.

  By one man, not many.

  She bit her lip and wished she could reach out to

  Savannah and discuss the confusion of her feelings. But

  she couldn’t, not when they were about to break into

  Betise’s salon. Sister or not, Savannah would send her

  deputies around to stop them.

  There was a soft click, and Duncan sighed in relief.

  I’m glad I was never forced to be a thief. It’s too damned

  difficult.

  He opened the window, then cupped his hands. She

  stepped into them and grabbed the sill, pulling herself

  through and landing on the floor on the other side in an

  ungainly heap.

  You okay?

  Yep. She picked herself up and stepped to one side,

  dusting off her jeans as she did so.

  Duncan quickly joined her. Looks like we’re in the back

  storeroom.

  We are. She walked out the door and headed across

  to the chair she’d sat in earlier. The cup is gone.

  Thought it might be. He shrugged and began opening

  drawers.

  She watched him for a minute, her hands on her hips,

  then said, What are you looking for?

  Don’t know. But I’m sure she’s up to something. I’m

  just not sure if it’s connected to the attacks. Searching

  through her stuff can’t hurt.

  It could if any of the rangers happened past. She

  glanced around for a second then headed over to the

  reception desk and sat down. The computer was off and

  turning it on was too much of a risk, especially if they had

  to get out in a hurry. The last thing they wanted was to

  leave a brightly-shining calling card in the form of a

  glowing computer screen. She opened the drawers and

  shuffled through them. There wasn’t much to find, beyond

  the usual stationary items and a couple of masks in the

  last drawer. She leaned back in the chair, staring at shelves

  lined with hair products. Faces stared back at her. Plastic

  faces. “Wigs,” she said into the silence.

  Duncan looked up. “What?”

  “Wigs. On the shelf.” She rose and walked over.

  “So?”

  She plucked the black one free and rubbed the hair

  between her fingertips. “Savannah said they’d found black

  hair on several of the victims. Why couldn’t the killer have

  been wearing a wig?”

  “Are the wigs made of real hair?” He stopped beside

  her and felt the wig, his fingers brushing hers and sending

  little shocks of electricity up her arm.

  “They feel like it.”

  “Perhaps you should pluck a few hairs and get your

  sister to compare them.”

  She glanced at him. “Betise doesn’t own the only salon

  in town.”

  “No. And if the killer is wearing a wig, he’s probably

  got one of his own. I doubt he’d be using one of these. But

  we’ve got nothing to lose by taking the chance.”

  She plucked a couple of hairs, then carefully replaced

  the wig and went into the back to find a plastic bag while

  Duncan continued his search through the rest of the

  drawers.

  “Nothing,” he said after a few moments.

  “That’s not really surprising,” she replied, walking back

  into the main room. “If she is up to something, she wouldn’t

  be stupid enough to leave evidence of it lying around here

  with people coming in and out all day.”

  “No.” He sat on the edge of the desk and flicked through

  the appointment book. “Looks like the victims were

  customers of hers.”

  She frowned. “No, they weren’t.”

  He glanced up at her, one eyebrow raised. “Their names

  are in the book. The last victim saw her two days before

  she died.”

  She looked over his shoulder. The name was there in

  black and white. “She told me she didn’t know any of

  them.”

  “Then she lied. I wonder why?”

  “Maybe she didn’t want the hassle of dealing with the

  rangers.”

  “Maybe.” He leaned forward and brushed a kiss across

  her lips, his eyes bright with the same hunger that stirred

  her blood. “I think we’d better head on to her place and do

  a little more investigating.”

  It was last thing she wanted to do, especially when

  his taste still lingered so enticingly on her mouth. Her

  wolf was definitely off the leash, and she suspected there

  was no going back to the way things had been before she’d

  foolishly walked into the mansion thinking she could

  control both the moon and her own responses. In the space

  of a couple of days, just about everything had changed,

  and she wasn’t sure whether to be happy about that or

  not.

  She stepped away, allowing him to brush past. They

  climbed out the window then Duncan slid his knife along

  the edge, knocking the catch back into place again.

  “What about our footprints?” she asked, staring at

  the deep imprints they were leaving in the snow.

  He grabbed the snow-laden lid off the nearby trash

  can and dumped the snow onto the telltale prints near

  the window. Then he kicked the bin over, scattering the

  rubbish around the door, covering the rest of them. “Let’s

  get back to the—”

  He stopped. Across the night came the sound of car

  engine drawing close. Neva met his gaze. “You don’t

  think...?”

  “We can’t take the chance that it’s not. Shift shape

  and jump the fence.”

  She did, barely clearing it, her belly scraping across

  the rough top edges. Leaping from a standstill had never

  been one of her fortes. She was too small to get any great

  height. She landed lightly and padded along the fence line

  until she found a gap in the wood. Lights speared the

  darkness, twin beams of brightness that lit the alley and

  highlighted the rubbish hiding their prints. A red car

  cruised into sight, stopping close to the salon’s back door.

  Betise climbed out, cursing softly and kicking away a soda

  bottle as she headed for the entrance.

  Dunc
an stopped beside Neva, his silver coat blending

  with snow. I’m surprised she’s not already at the mansion.

  The dance has been going for a good two hours.

  Maybe she’s not going to the dance.

  Betise is an addict. I doubt she can stop.

  She looked at him. He was as powerful in wolf form as

  he was in human, and his eyes glowed like black glass.

  Are you an addict?

  Once, he admitted. But no more.

  Why?

  He shrugged. I grew tired of the chase. Tired of much-

  used flesh.

  That’s not a very nice thing to say.

  His amusement spun around her. But true.

  So you chased me because I was new to the dance?

  Yes.

  So I could have stood there fully clothed, and you still

  would have come after me?

  Yes.

  Damn. Wish I’d known that.

  I’m glad you didn’t. It’s not often I get to enjoy the sight

  of a nubile nymph playing in the fountain.

  And it’s not a sight you’re likely to see again. That

  water was freezing. She glanced toward the salon as Betise

  came back out. She appeared to be carrying something

  small, but from this angle, Neva couldn’t see what it was.

  I can’t see it, either.

  She glanced at him. It could be the masks I saw in the

  drawer.

  Maybe, he commented. But it might be worth following

  her, just to see what she’s up to.

  What about searching her house?

  We can’t risk going there until we know she’s going to

  be gone for a while.

  She’s likely to notice a car tailing her.

  But not a pair of wolves. In this snow, she can’t go

  very fast, so we should be able to keep up.

  Maybe you can, she grumbled. I’ve got shorter legs,

  remember.

  He grinned, and in wolf form, it was a fearsome sight.

  Legs I wouldn’t mind wrapped around me right now.

  That conjures some weird damn images when we’re

  in wolf form.

  I don’t care what form you’re in. You’re beautiful either

  way.

  She studied him a little warily. Okay, what are you

  after? You’re being entirely too nice all of a sudden.

  His amusement spun through her mind, as warm as

  sunshine. I’m a wolf and the moon is rising—what do you

  think I want?

  You can get that without being nice.

  He gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. Maybe you’re

  just seeing the real me.

  Yeah, right. If the man was basically nice, he wouldn’t

  have the reputation he had.

  People change, Neva. My reputation was earned a long

  time ago. His mental tones were flat, but the air burned

  with the flash of his anger.

  But you’ve more than lived up to it with me, haven’t

  you?

  He didn’t say anything, and the swirl of his emotions

  died. Had he been in human form, she very much

  suspected the shutters in his eyes would be up again.

  Betise started her car and cruised off slowly. Duncan

  stepped back several paces. Keep close.

  He leapt the fence, clearing it easily. She followed,

  scraping her belly a second time. She’d be bruised in the

  morning for sure. They loped after the car, keeping it in

  sight easily enough. Duncan had been right—Betise wasn’t

  able to drive very fast with all the snow coating the road.

  The car headed east along Main Street until they’d

  reached the outer limits of Ripple Creek, then it turned

  south into Mayflower Street. It was a back road, rough

  and narrow, and the wash of warm light from the

  streetlights behind them quickly gave way to darkness.

  Houses were few and far between out here, and the silence

  was almost eerie. A shiver rippled across her skin. Anyone

  coming out to this wild and lonely section of town at this

  time of night was surely up to no good.

  From up ahead, mingling with the purr of the engine,

  came the bubbling rush of Hunter’s River, the biggest of

  the two rivers that flowed though Ripple Creek. This road

  crossed it then took a long loop back to Main Street. Where

  in hell was Betise going? And why?

  Neva lolled out her tongue, trying to catch more air as

  she concentrated on running in the tire tracks, where the

  going was easier. Loping long distances was all well and

  good when you had long legs and were fit, but the longest

  distance she’d ever run was between the diner and home

  last year when she was late for a date. A date that hadn’t

  been worth the effort of getting ready, let alone running.

  Which was basically the story of her dating life—at

  least until she’d decided to seduce Duncan. And while

  they weren’t dating, they were certainly dancing. She had

  to wonder how she was ever going to find a man who could

  do to her the things Duncan had done to her. A man who

  could make her feel the way he’d made her feel.

  But what, exactly, did she feel? And did she really

  want to acknowledge those feelings, given the fact he was

  leaving? Perhaps it was better not to know. Not to examine

  too closely. Otherwise she might just end up getting hurt.

  The sound of bubbling water got stronger, and the

  car’s bright lights picked out the old wooden bridge from

  the surrounding darkness. Betise slowed, easing the car

  onto the narrow bridge before stopping in the middle.

  Stay here, behind the car, Duncan ordered. I’m going

  forward a little to see what she’s doing.

  Be careful. I don’t like the feel of this.

  Neither do I.

  He padded forward, his silver coat blending with the

  snow, making him difficult to see. A second later there

  was a small splash, then the car began to creep forward

  again.

  She’s thrown something in the water, Neva guessed.

  That she has. I’m going in to retrieve it. He hesitated.

  You want to keep following her? We can’t afford to lose her

  right now.

  Will you be all right? The water is freezing.

  In wolf form I won’t feel it as much. Go, before we lose

  her. Just make sure you keep out of sight.

  Like she needed to be told that. Biting back her

  annoyance, she loped over the bridge and followed the

  tire tracks.

  Betise made her way back to Main Street, turned left,

  then headed back to the undoubtedly of town. When she

  turned right onto Bunting Street, a sick sensation ran

  through Neva. She had a horrible suspicion she knew

  where Betise was headed.

  Her place.

  She swore softly, though it came out little more than

  a rumble of sound. She leapt the nearest fence, taking a

  shortcut across her neighbor’s backyards, and shifted

  shape as she ran for her back door.

  She thrust it open, kicked off her shoes and shucked

  her coat, then slammed the door shut and raced for the

  stairs. Lights gleamed through the living room windows

  as a car pulled into her driveway. She raced up the stairs,

  stripping as she went,
throwing her clothes in a heap in

  the hallway before racing into the shower. Thrusting on

  the taps, she wasted a few precious seconds waiting for

  the water to warm up, then jumped in.

  A second later the doorbell rang. She got out of the

  shower but left the water running, grabbed a towel and

  padded down the stairs. “Who is it?” she called, dripping

  water everywhere as she tucked the towel around her

  breasts.

  “Betise.”

  The other wolf’s voice sounded slightly surprised, and

  a shiver traveled down Neva’s spine. It was almost as if

  Betise hadn’t expected her to be home—and that would

  only be the case if she’d suspected they’d been following

  her.

  Neva opened the door. Betise’s gaze slid down Neva’s

  body, and her lips twitched as if in amusement. But it

  was an amusement at odds with the anger in her silvery-

  green eyes.

  “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Betise said, her

  voice warm, her eyes cold.

  “Well, actually, you are. What can I do for you?”

  “Is Duncan here?”

  Neva clutched the door handle tightly. “Yes. Upstairs,

  having a shower. Why?”

  “It’s personal. Perhaps I should wait?”

  “I really don’t think—”

  “It’s important I speak to him. I’ll wait in the kitchen,

  if you like, while you two finish your...showering.” She

  hesitated. “Unless, of course, you think my presence here

  might disturb your relationship with Duncan.”

  Neva wondered what in hell was going on in Betise’s

  mind. As much as she’d first believed the older wolf’s

  statements about her affair with Duncan, his contempt

  and loathing of her went too deep to be anything but true

  repulsion. One thing was obvious—whatever these two

  had been, they most certainly weren’t soul mates.

  “Duncan and I don’t have a relationship, so I have

  nothing to fear.” And certainly not from the likes of you.

  Which was an extremely bitchy thought, but one that was

  certainly true. “But we could be a while showering. Why

  don’t I get him to phone you once we finish?”

  “This is urgent.” Betise crossed her arms, the anger

  and suspicion deeper in her silvery eyes. “Why don’t you

  just go upstairs and tell him I’m here? I’m sure he’ll come

  down to see me.”

  “Given the choice, I certainly wouldn’t.” Duncan’s dry