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Beneath a Rising Moon Page 25


  comment came from the top of the stairs. “What the hell

  do you want now, Betise?”

  Neva’s heart leapt in her chest, but she hid her relief

  as she looked over her shoulder. Duncan was standing at

  the top of the stairs, a towel wrapped around his hips, his

  skin gleaming and as wet as hers. The smile that touched

  his lips curled her toes, and though the shutters were up

  in his eyes, she could feel his amusement. And his anger—

  at Betise, not her.

  Betise all but glared at him. “I thought you might like

  to know about an interesting conversation I overheard at

  the Blue Moon.”

  Neva shared a glance with Duncan. Has Betise really

  been at the Blue Moon? And if so, why there rather than

  the dance?

  It’ll be easy enough to check, Duncan said. The Blue

  Moon has lots of security cameras. I’ll get Rai to check

  them.

  And here I was thinking the ‘good friend’ you mentioned

  was male. I really should have known better. Her mental

  tone sounded as catty as her words, but she just couldn’t

  help it.

  She’s married.

  That didn’t stop you in Denver.

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to, when his anger

  damn near sizzled her mind. His gaze went past her. “What

  did you overhear?”

  Betise stepped inside. “One person, male, talking on

  a cell phone. About René.”

  He crossed his arms, his eyes little more than black

  slits. “Are you going to spit it all out, or do I have to come

  down and shake the rest of it out?”

  The suppressed hostility in his voice left Neva in no

  doubt he’d do it. The sudden flash of uncertainty she got

  from Betise suggested she had no doubt either—and yet

  that uncertainty was mixed with an animosity that

  matched Duncan’s. What was going on? None of the

  emotions she was catching from Betise made any real

  sense. On the one hand, there was love and a deep belief

  in destiny. On the other, a far-reaching anger. And while

  she knew it was more than possible to feel both for the

  same person, there seemed to be something else here, as

  well. Something that left a bad taste in Neva’s mouth.

  “He was talking about going after your brother,” Betise

  said coldly. “Tonight, while the dance was on.”

  Duncan didn’t react in any noticeable way. Nor did he

  move. “Did you see this man?”

  “No.”

  “Would you recognize his voice if you heard it again?”

  Betise hesitated. “Probably.”

  “Did he say when or how?”

  “No.”

  The phone rang shrilly. Neva jumped, then glanced

  up at Duncan.

  “Answer it,” he said, voice clipped.

  She did. “Neva Grant speaking.”

  “May I speak to Duncan, please?”

  The voice was cultured and rich and reminded her

  very much of an older version of Duncan. She glanced up

  at him. “For you.”

  His gaze went to Betise for a second, then he walked

  down the stairs and took the phone from her hands. Neva

  rubbed her arms, but it didn’t ease the goose bumps fleeing

  across her skin.

  Duncan listened to the caller for several seconds, his

  expression never changing, then put the phone down. But

  his black eyes gleamed with fury as his gaze met hers.

  “That was my father. René’s been shot.”

  Thirteen

  Duncan took a deep breath, trying to control the anger

  pounding through his veins. The need to protect the pack

  and all its members was a natural instinct to a wolf—and

  something he’d failed to do.

  Neva placed a hand against his arm, her fingers warm

  against his skin. He shook off her touch and spun around,

  ignoring the flash of her hurt as he stalked towards Betise.

  Though her eyes widened slightly, the smell of her

  anticipation and desire spun through the air. He wrapped

  his fingers around her neck, resisting the urge to squeeze

  tight but holding her still none too gently.

  “If I discover you have had anything to do with René

  being shot, I’ll kill you.”

  Her expression was fear-filled, yet he could taste her

  emotions as clearly as he smelled her arousal, and fear

  played no part in them.

  “This is the thanks I get for coming here to warn you?”

  “We both know you’re up to something.”

  “I’m up to nothing more than trying to get promises

  made to me fulfilled.”

  “I never made any promises to you, Betise, and I very

  much doubt René did, either.” He thrust her backwards,

  sending her sprawling into the soft snow. She landed in

  an ungainly heap, flashing bare thighs and a thatch of

  golden hair. His gut turned. “Take your lies, and your

  much-used flesh elsewhere from now on. We don’t want

  you at the mansion anymore.”

  He slammed the door shut on the rush of her fury and

  turned around. Neva was staring at him, her arms crossed

  and her expression a mix of relief and worry.

  “That might not have been the wisest move,

  particularly if she is somehow involved with the killings.”

  “Right now, I don’t particularly care.” He had a

  suspicion time was running out, and the killer had just

  upped the ante. He took the stairs two at a time and walked

  into the bedroom, crossing to the still-open window he’d

  climbed through earlier. He closed it, then grabbed his

  clothes and began dressing.

  Neva stopped in the doorway. “You never mentioned

  how René is.”

  “That’s because I don’t really know.”

  “Then he’s not dead?”

  “No.”

  “You’re going up there now?”

  “Yes.” His voice was slightly clipped, and the growing

  tide of her annoyance washed around him. He ignored it

  and pulled on his boots. Right now, he didn’t have time to

  waste. He had to get back to the mansion to help his father.

  “Are you getting dressed, or are you going like that?”

  “I thought you’d class this as pack business and not

  suitable for outsiders.”

  She was no longer an outsider, even though she’d yet

  to acknowledge him or her feelings. Even if she never did.

  “If Betise is somehow involved in these killings, I’d be a

  fool to leave you here alone, especially after I’ve just tossed

  her out of the house.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I’m sure your sister thought the same thing.” He saw

  the glimmer of hurt in her green eyes and took a deep

  breath, releasing it slowly. “Just get dressed. I haven’t the

  time to argue right now.”

  “Fine. Don’t argue. But I’m not going.”

  “Listen—”

  “No,” she cut in. “You listen. If Betise is up to

  something, it’s important we keep an eye on her.”

  “If she is involved, she’s probably just raised the stakes.

  I don’t want to risk you getting hurt.”
/>   She crossed her arms. “You have no say over what I

  do or don’t risk. You and I are sharing a moon dance,

  nothing more.”

  He met her gaze. Saw her uncertainty and her

  determination. Realized then that she was still seeing him

  as the man he had been rather than the man he now was.

  And that was something he could not combat—not with

  words, and not in such a short amount of time. “Are you

  sure of that?”

  She hesitated. “Yes.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

  Her eyes widened a little. “What do you mean?”

  “What I said.” He picked his coat up off the floor and

  walked towards her. She didn’t back away, but the

  uncertainty in her eyes grew. As did the scent of her

  arousal.

  He stopped so close her peaked nipples brushed his

  chest with every breath she took. Heat sparked the air

  between them, fierce enough to draw sweat from his skin

  and hers. The desire to take her, to bury himself in the

  warmth of her willing flesh and let the rest of the world

  take care of itself, burned fiercely. But duty and his pack

  had to take priority. For now.

  “I don’t like the thought of you going after Betise alone.”

  “I’ll keep my distance.”

  “Make sure you do.” He wrapped an arm around her

  small waist and crushed her against him. Kissed her

  hungrily, fiercely, claiming her mouth as completely as

  he’d claim her body later, when they had more time.

  The sound of a car starting forced him to pull away.

  “You’d better hurry and get dressed,” he said. “Or she’ll

  slip away. Keep in contact with me.”

  She nodded and spun away, her hips swaying

  enticingly as she walked into the bathroom. He took a

  deep breath and forced his feet towards the stairs. Light

  swept across the windows as Betise backed her car out of

  the driveway. He headed for the back door, ensuring it

  was locked before he stepped into the night’s snow-filled

  darkness.

  Then he shifted shape and ran for the mansion.

  ***

  Neva padded through the white-cloaked darkness,

  following the red gleam of taillights. She’d half expected

  Betise to head for the mansion despite Duncan’s warning,

  but it was clear she was headed home. Which was a little

  surprising, especially given the heat of the moon. An addict

  did whatever they needed to do to ensure the supply of

  their drug, didn’t they? So why wasn’t Betise out hunting

  a mate?

  She pricked her ears as the sound of another engine

  rolled across the night. It came from behind her, but was

  headed her way. She leapt off the road and made for the

  trees, weaving her way through the trunks as the gleam

  of headlights flickered across the night.

  Ahead, Betise turned into the driveway of her house

  and stopped in front of the garage. Neva paused, her tongue

  lolling as she battled to catch her breath. If there was one

  thing she was going to do when this was all over, it was

  get into shape.

  Betise climbed out of her car and glanced back toward

  the road. The roar of the engine drew closer, then lights

  swept across the strand of trees where Neva hid. She didn’t

  move, hoping the shadows and the surrounding pines

  would hide her golden coat.

  The lights swept past, then a truck pulled into the

  driveway and stopped behind Betise’s car. A chill ran

  through Neva. A blue truck. Just like the one that had hit

  her.

  Maybe her accident wasn’t an accident after all.

  Iyona climbed out and spoke to her daughter. Though

  the night was hushed, Neva was too far away to hear what

  they were saying. And she didn’t dare move, just in case

  either woman spotted her.

  After a fierce, somewhat animated conversation, Betise

  and her mother headed inside. Lights shone in the kitchen,

  and a few seconds later, gleamed from the windows at the

  far end of the house.

  Neva retreated through the trees and back onto the

  road, following the tire tracks down the driveway so she

  didn’t leave any paw prints. When she reached the truck’s

  tailgate, she hesitated, flicking her ears forward. There

  was a lot of movement inside the house. Hurried

  movement. Frowning, she crawled under the truck and

  out the other side. There she shifted shape, and in human

  form followed the footprints up the stairs.

  When she reached the window, she stopped, flattening

  her back against the wall before peering carefully in.

  Through the gap in the curtains she could see Iyona

  throwing things into cardboard boxes. Neva raised her

  eyebrows. Were they leaving? And if so, why?

  She watched a moment longer, then ducked past the

  window and jumped off the veranda. She walked the length

  of the house, keeping to the shadows so her footprints

  wouldn’t be so noticeable. The house was on a slope, so

  by the time she reached the room Betise was in, the window

  was higher than her head, and she couldn’t see in. But if

  the sound of things being thrown around was anything to

  go by, then Betise was either having an almighty temper

  tantrum or, like Iyona, she was packing. Neva leaned back

  against the wall and waited. After a few minutes, Iyona

  appeared, marching toward the truck with a large box.

  Neva shifted shape again and hunkered down, the

  snow cold against her belly. Iyona dumped the box in the

  truck then went back inside. Several more minutes passed,

  then Betise came out, backpacks slung over either

  shoulder and bags in both hands. The lights went off,

  then Iyona reappeared, carrying another box.

  “You got everything?” Iyona’s voice was sharp with

  anger and perhaps a little contempt.

  “Yep. Rang the rangers, too, just to let them know

  we’ll be away for a few days.” Betise’s smirk was easy to

  see, even from where Neva lay. “They said they’d come by

  and check the house for us.”

  Iyona snorted. “That’s kindly of them.”

  “I thought so.”

  Iyona dumped the box in the back of the truck then

  paused, glancing toward her daughter. “You sure you want

  to do this?”

  “They owe you. And he owes me.”

  Iyona nodded and climbed into the truck. Betise

  followed suit, and the truck was quickly backed out of the

  driveway. Neva took a deep breath then bounded across

  the snow covered lawn and began following them again.

  ***

  The mansion was ablaze with lights by the time

  Duncan got there. There was a ranger stationed at the

  main gate, and the guards his father had hired were

  manning the other two. Duncan backtracked and slipped

  in through one of the tunnels, making his way through

  damp and rarely used passageways to the medical rooms.

  He shifted shape as he neared the entrance and hit

  the switch. The door swung silently open, and Duncan


  stepped through.

  Martin jumped and spun around. “You damn near

  frightened the life out of me,” he grumbled, turning back

  to the sink to wash his hands. “You’d think those doors

  would have the decency to squeak and at least give an old

  man some warning.”

  “Is René okay?” Duncan left the door open, just in

  case he had to make a fast retreat. He couldn’t smell

  anyone else close except the doc and his brother, but that

  didn’t mean the rangers weren’t nearby. Or even outside

  the door.

  “He’s lucky. The bullet hit him low in the shoulder

  and looked a lot worse than it was. Wouldn’t be surprised

  if the killer thought he’d scored a true hit.”

  “Does he have to go to the hospital?”

  Martin nodded. “I’m not set up to deal with that sort

  of surgery anymore. I’ve patched him up the best I can

  and stemmed the bleeding, but that’s about all I can do.”

  “Can I talk to him?”

  “Quickly. We called for an ambulance ten minutes ago,

  so it should be here any minute.”

  “Where are the rangers?”

  “Down in the main ballroom, interviewing folk and

  taking samples from pack members.” Martin shook his

  head. “The damn fools even insisted on getting a sample

  from me.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Were they already here when

  René was shot?”

  Martin nodded. “Lucky, too. With the snow still falling,

  they might not have found the footprints and tire tracks

  otherwise.”

  Both were evidence that could be used in court, but

  was the attack on René linked with the attacks on the

  women? That’s what they had to discover—and fast, he

  suspected.

  “You’ll let me know if the rangers come back?”

  “The surgery door is locked, and these old bones don’t

  move all that fast.”

  Duncan smiled and headed into the next room. René

  was lying on the bed closest to the wall, stripped to the

  waist, and he had a huge swathe of bandages around his

  shoulder and left arm.

  “I think I should give up the moon dance as a lost

  cause this cycle,” René said without opening his eyes.

  “At least he or she didn’t shoot your vitals.”

  René snorted. “I guess there is that to be thankful

  for.”

  Duncan stopped at the end of the bed and crossed his

  arms. “So what were you doing when it happened?”