Never Cry Wolf (Night Watch #4)(22)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Pretty face, bitch beneath the surface. “If you really think they’re strong enough to take him down, then why am I still breathing?”

“Told you . . .” She paced to the window, peered outside, and made the mistake of giving him her back. Bad mistake. “You’re the backup plan. If Lucas manages to get away, then—”

He pounced. He jumped from the chair and had his claws at her throat in less than a second’s time. “Then nothing, sweetheart, because your plan has just changed.”

She stiffened against him, her smaller body going taut. Her gaze still focused out the window, and, over her shoulder, he saw the trucks spinning into the drive. The dogs were back.

“No, it hasn’t,” she told him quietly. “But it looks like your time has run out.” Then she turned toward him. His claws pressed over her throat. “Kill me.” Another shrug. “They’ll still kill you as soon as they come inside.”

But he could see the limping, bleeding bodies as the coyotes tumbled out of the trucks. She hadn’t actually looked at the coyotes before she’d spun away. “Guess again.”

Her delicate nostrils flared and her eyes—so gold and wide—searched his. Then she opened her mouth to scream.

Too late.

When Detective Bruce Langston shoved open the door of the small interrogation room, Sarah straightened in the too-hard and wobbly chair.

One black brow lifted. “Back so soon, Ms. King?”

She flattened her hands on the table. “I need to be at a hospital.” She coughed, a hard, heaving cough that was only half-pretend. Damn demon—she’d gotten away in the smoke while Sarah had needed the cops to pull her out of the flames. “I . . . shouldn’t be here . . . I need a doctor.”

“And I need a damn wolf in a cage.”

Her body stiffened.

He kicked the door closed. “Yeah, you heard me.”

She licked her lips. “I heard you . . . I just don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit.” He paced around the wooden table, his gaze raking her. “Lover-boy blew his hand. I saw his eyes glow. I saw the claws. I know.”

“Well, I don’t.” Her eyes slanted to the left, to the window that lined the wall. Was someone watching in there? “And if you’re not careful, your cop buddies are going to think . . .” another cough, this one completely real, “you’re crazy.”

He stopped in front of her and slammed his fists down onto the table. Sarah flinched.

“Don’t f**king lie to me!” He snarled, face far too close to hers. “We both know what Lucas Simone is!”

“I don’t even understand what you’re yelling about!” So the cop knew the deal. Maybe he’d known all along. Was he working with the other paranormals in the city? Or, hell, no, could he be working with Rafe? So many cops were on the take . . . she knew that better than others.

But if he were working with Rafe, she wouldn’t be in interrogation—she’d be in a body bag.

“He left you to burn.” Bruce’s hands lifted and his finger traced over the back of her ash stained hand. “You saved his ass, but he left you.”

One way of looking at it. She snatched her hand back.

“You don’t owe him anything,” the detective said, voice a little too smooth now. What? Where was all that fiery rage he’d just shown? Was he a one-man good cop/bad cop routine?

“Maybe I don’t,” she said, wondering where this was going and also wondering—where the hell was Lucas? Spending the night in a cage didn’t exactly appeal to her.

Bruce nodded. “Good girl. Think about yourself.”

“That’s all I ever think about.”

His gaze searched hers. “I want Simone. He’s an animal, and he needs to be taken down before he kills again.”

“Lucas Simone isn’t a killer.”

He laughed at her.

“Lucas wasn’t anywhere near that house tonight.” She exhaled. “Ask the cops. No one saw him. Because he wasn’t there.”

Bruce’s fingers closed around her hands in a grip that was almost painful. Walking the line. “Officer Meadows told me about the bodies, how they’d been slashed, throats ripped, guts torn open.”

Right. Like she needed another visual. Been there. “He was wrong.” And she owed the demon for this, at least. “And if the fire hadn’t burned so fast, you’d see the truth for yourself.” But there’d be no seeing for anyone. That demon’s fire had burned right through flesh and taken all the evidence away. By the time the firefighters had arrived on the scene, nothing had been left.

The detective’s scent—sweat and cheap cologne—clogged the air around her. “You don’t want me for an enemy.”

“What I want . . . is a lawyer.” She tore her hands away from his and turned her head to glare at the mirror. “And I want one now.”

Silence.

“No one’s in there.”

Figured.

“And no lawyer is coming for you.”

That didn’t sound good.

He pulled away from the table and rolled his shoulders. “I’ve got a daughter,” he told her as he began to pace the small room.

Uh, what? How had they gone from dead bodies to his personal life?

“She’s real sick.” He paused and his gaze went distant. “Cancer. Eight years old . . . and she has cancer.”

What was happening here? “I’m . . . sorry.” And she was. No child should ever have to suffer such pain.

“Cops don’t make much.”

A chill iced her skin. No, don’t say—

He rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re going to try and escape custody in a few minutes.”

Rafe.

His right hand brushed back the edge of his jacket, and she saw the butt of his gun. “You’re going to try to get away, but you’re going to fail.”

Her mouth had gone bone dry. “Let me guess . . .” Her hands curled under the edge of the table. “You’ll have to shoot me, right?”

“Kelly’s real sick.” His eyes glittered at her. “She’s a little girl. She deserves to live. And you—you’re a killer, just like Simone. I saw the file on you. I know what you’ve done.”

So she wasn’t perfect. “What file? Who told you about me?”

“Jess Ortez.”

Damn him. “Jess doesn’t know everything.” Her left arm still stung from the bullet that had clipped her. The EMTs on the scene had bandaged her up, but she knew the next wound wouldn’t be one that a bandage could easily fix. Trapped in this ten-by-twelve-foot room, the cop wouldn’t exactly have a hard target.