Chapter Twelve
The second she’d parked the car, Dawn had hurried away from Hunter and headed for the bathroom to splash some water on her face. She needed it after the conversation she’d just had.
Mates? Battles over women? Spirit Stones? What kind of crazy world was Hunter part of?
She’d dabbed water on her neck and cheeks then headed to the party tent, frowning the whole time. For a little while, she’d thought the barriers between her and Hunter had all been knocked down. But now, they were higher than ever.
She took a deep breath and paused in the doorway to the party tent.
Time to get your head around the job, Officer Meli, she ordered herself.
The tent was packed, and a band was warming up. Not the groom’s boy-toy band, thank God. More guests streamed in, some kicking grass off their shoes. Clearly, she’d made it just in time. The rehearsal over on the lawn had broken up, and everyone was starting to relax. Young men made a beeline for the buffet, while the women formed chatty huddles around the sides. Older folks and couples gathered in little batches here and there, forming their own cliques.
Her eyes swept over the scene, instinctively searching for Hunter. Where was he?
Then she caught herself and sought out the primary wedding guests instead. No more thinking of Hunter. She was undercover and on the clock, so she’d better get mingling and keep her eyes open for possible threats.
She cringed. Up until her conversation with Hunter, she’d been confident she could handle any would-be thieves. But what if a shifter battle broke out in front of her eyes? Could she handle seeing Hunter change into bear form again?
Just keep the possibility in mind, and stay safe, he’d said.
She didn’t dare imagine what exactly that possibility might entail.
“This is nothing,” one young woman sniffed to another. “My cousin got married in Tahiti. You should have seen it.”
Dawn made a face. She was pretty sure she had seen that wedding in the pages of all the gossip magazines.
“Did you see Ricky?” the second woman chuckled.
Dawn looked around, but the groom was nowhere to be seen.
“I bet he’s snuck off with that blonde who was throwing herself at him all day.”
Dawn’s eyes landed squarely on Hunter, homing in on him with some instinctive power she wasn’t sure she wanted to name. He was prowling around one edge of the tent, studying the guests. No doubt keeping his eye out for the diamond, too. There were plenty to choose from, given the who’s who guest list at this event. Every time he passed a woman with a low-cut top, Dawn tensed, but Hunter invariably breezed by, uninterested in the plunging necklines and surgically enhanced boobs.
Shifters believe in destined mates, he’d said. Finding the one person who’s meant for you. The one your heart is bound to forever, who you’ll love to the end of your days.
His eyes had glowed softly when he’d uttered the words. And honestly, that part of the shifter world had its appeal. It was the other aspects that worried her — the battles, the hidden enemies, the hints of a feudal society.
She watched as Hunter stepped past a woman who’d faked dropping a napkin to give Hunter a clear view down her revealing dress. Hunter seemed not to notice. His eyes and movements all centered on one guest — a big hulk of a man with silver hair and an expensive suit. Another one of the Vanderpelts’ wealthy friends, she supposed.
Dawn let her eyes dart around the tent, wondering who else might be a shifter here. That tall man over by the bar — was he a shifter? How about the guy laughing with a woman on either side — was he human?
Don’t be silly, she decided. Hunter is the only shifter here. Right?
She gulped at her own question, wondering if it were true. Wondering how she might tell humans apart from shifters without the latter breaking out in fur and fangs.
If she really thought about it, she remembered that Hunter had captivated her from the start. There had always been something a little different about him. His friends, too. Well, Hunter and his friends would stand out in any crowd by sheer virtue of their physiques and good looks. But there was a quiet undercurrent to each of them, too. A raw, powerful presence. And the eyes — each of them had incredibly intense eyes.
She looked back at the tall man by the bar, but his eyes were empty and bored. The man laughing with two women was more animated, but he didn’t have that blink and I just might leap over a tall building in a single bound sense of possibility Hunter and his friends did.
“Enjoying the party?” A deep, scratchy bass sounded at her side, making her jolt.
Dawn whirled and stared at the man who’d snuck up on her. The silver-haired man she’d noticed before — a man practically as broad as he was tall, with dark, predatory eyes that seemed to swirl at hers, and a build that said he still put in plenty of hours at the gym.
She stepped back and cleared her throat. Was she enjoying the party? Not particularly, no.
“It’s lovely.” She forced the corners of her mouth up in a smile.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, touching his lapel to bring her attention to his fine, tailored suit. Was she supposed to be impressed?
“No thank you.”
Her hands formed tight chopping blocks, ready to defend herself. As smooth and cultured as the man was on the surface, there was a raw, animal vibe to him, a cruel glint in his eye.
He snapped his fingers at one of the caterers. “Two champagnes.”
“I said I didn’t want a drink.”
He grinned. “Of course you want one.”
God, would she have loved to pull out her badge and tell this ass a thing or two about sexual harassment. That no meant no, regardless of how much he wanted to hear yes. His whole demeanor was grand and commanding. Entitled, as if she ought to react to a snap of his fingers the way the hired help might.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” she said, putting the emphasis on have to and adding a silent asshole.
She stepped away. As an undercover officer, she was supposed to go unnoticed, not cause a scene. And if she had to look at that jerk one minute longer, she’d be tempted to punch his arrogant face.
He grabbed her elbow — hard — and yanked her closer. “You really must try a sip.” He grinned a wolfish grin, turning her stomach.
She snapped her arm upward, breaking out of his grasp. “And you really must back off. Now.”
She made it an order, not a request. It’s all in the voice, one of her first police mentors had said.
His grin turned to shock and then an angry leer that said, I don’t take orders from women. In fact, I don’t take orders from anyone.
Visions of dragging the man off in a squad car drifted through Dawn’s mind, tempting her to let things escalate just so she could put the man in his place. But a good cop defused tricky situations, and she wasn’t here to arrest guests.
But, shit. Hunter was prowling up behind the man, looking like a volcano about to erupt.
Thinking fast, she flashed a radiant smile and pushed past the man to take Hunter’s hand. “Oh, there you are, honey,” she called, pulling him away before he could make a scene. “I was looking for you.”
The hair on the back of her neck rose as she sensed the tension between the two men — the older, arrogant jerk she could sense glaring, and good old, overprotective Hunter, whom she’d been trying so hard to avoid.
“Rescuing me again?” she murmured, pulling Hunter toward the dance floor. For all that she’d wanted to avoid him earlier, her body still warmed at his touch. Damn it, why did the man have such an effect on her?
She half expected Hunter to stammer some denial, but he didn’t say a word. His eyes shot daggers at the older man, and his whole body bristled. His eyes glowed with anger, and the stubble on his chin seemed to thicken before her eyes. A low growl rose in his throat, and—
Oh, shit.
“Hunter,” she whispered, running a hand over his shoulder.
His eyes stayed rooted on the other man, so she dragged Hunter into a turn, forcing him away. That gave her a view of the other man, and thank goodness — another guest had come up to him and started shaking his hand. A timely distraction.
Still, Hunter growled on.
“Hunter,” she hissed.
His eyes snapped to hers, and…whoa. The sheer fury burning there made her want to back away. At the same time, she yearned to hug him tightly and make the anger go away.
She took a deep breath — deep enough for the both of them. Yes, Hunter confused the crap out of her. And, yes, the whole bear thing freaked her out. But her heart thumped with joy from being close to him, and that feeling of rightness, that sense of completion she always got around him overpowered everything else.
“Not a good time to turn into a bear,” she murmured, stroking his arm.
His eyes flared before he squeezed them closed.
She went on stroking his arm, studying his tightly drawn face. So much emotion bottled up in that big man. So few outlets for it. Her touch calmed him, though. The tic on his brow softened, and his pulse slowed slightly. He tilted his head slightly toward her like a dog desperate to be petted.
“Hunter,” she whispered, cupping his cheek.
His fingers tightened around hers, filling her with a sense of power.
“There’s never a good time to turn into a bear,” he murmured, sounding so wounded, she wanted to cry. The bear was part of who Hunter was, and every shackle on the bear was a shackle on Hunter’s soul.
She cupped his face in both hands. “My mom used to say there’s a time and place for everything.”
He looked at her in surprise. “Georgia Mae used to say that, too.”
Dawn nodded, remembering the eccentric old woman who’d been Hunter’s guardian.
Maybe someday… she nearly said, though she bit the words back. Was she really ready to picture herself wandering the woods beside a bear? Probably not. But giving Hunter the space to do what he had to do… Maybe she could handle that.
She’d just worked her way up to a smile when a commotion broke out at one side of the tent. Dawn groaned. “Time for Regina’s grand entrance, I guess.”
The bride all but skipped through the crowd, and everyone turned, watching her.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
Dawn made a face. “Really, who calls their father Daddy in public?”
“Spoiled brat socialites,” Hunter murmured absently. His eyes weren’t on Regina, though. They were on the gray-haired man slipping out of the tent.
“Daddy, I want to see it again!”
Roger Vanderpelt shook his head for all of two seconds before Regina made a face. Then he smiled indulgently and reached into his breast pocket. The private security guards standing two steps behind him widened their stances and glared at the crowd, daring anyone to try anything.
“Well, if you insist,” Roger Vanderpelt said, pulling out a jewelry box.
Everyone pressed forward as he tipped the lid open. A murmur went through the crowd as the light glinted off a gem.
“Would you look at that,” someone gaped.
“That’s some diamond,” another whistled.
Dawn couldn’t help craning her neck like everyone else. Then she glanced at Hunter, searching for some sign of recognition. What had he called it? A Spirit Stone. It had all sounded like a bunch of mumbo jumbo to her, but damn, he had been so serious. Could it really be true?
Regina held the diamond up to the light. “Isn’t it something?”
On cue, guests burst into applause so painfully fawning, Dawn was embarrassed.
“Who wants to see?” Regina called out. The diamond flashed as she waved it in front of the crowd. There was a flash of purple, too, from the engagement ring on her finger.
Clearly, Regina wanted people to see her. The diamond was just a prop, a funnel for attention.
Regina started strutting around with the jewelry box cupped in her hands. The pair of security guards flanked her, keeping everyone back. A ripple went through the crowd as the trio made a circuit of the tent. A long, endless round in which Dawn wondered what the big deal was. But when they passed, she leaned forward in spite of herself.
The diamond glittered in the bright party tent lights, a pure, clear crystal against the black velvet of its case. Dawn glanced at Hunter. Was that a regular diamond or was it a Spirit Stone?
The reflection of the diamond lasered over his face, as did a line of purple shot out by Regina’s amethyst engagement ring.
Hunter’s eyes went wide, and he stood perfectly still except for his lips.
Dawn strained to hear, but she couldn’t quite catch what he’d said. Was it the Spirit Stone?
Regina waved to someone with one hand, and the funny thing was, Hunter followed intently, keeping his eyes on the amethyst rather than the diamond.
But the diamond was the stone he’d mentioned, right? Dawn looked from the purple stone on Regina’s finger to the diamond in her hands. Both sparkled in the brilliant lights, but the amethyst had a vibrancy to it she hadn’t noticed before. And the way Hunter stared at it…
Spirit Stones… Great powers… Slumbering… Enemies… she remembered him saying.
Regina made another triumphant loop of the tent before heading back to her parents. “Where’s Ricky?” she demanded, looking around for the groom. “I want him to see this, too.”
“That’s enough, darling. Give it back to me for safekeeping,” Roger Vanderpelt said. His voice was indulgent but his hands had to twist to break the box free from Regina’s grasp.
“Damn it, where is Ricky?” Regina complained.
“Watch your language, dear,” her mother murmured, shooting a glance at her friends.
And off Regina went, muttering about her fiancé. Hunter’s eyes followed her all the way to the door.
“Is that it? Is it a Spirt Stone?” Dawn whispered then caught herself. Wait. She didn’t really believe in that kooky stuff, did she?
Hunter’s lips stayed sealed for a long time, his body practically quivering with tension. He looked left and right, obviously torn between following Regina and following the gray-haired man.
“No. I mean, yes. I mean…”
“Hey,” one of the buxom bridesmaids said, tapping Dawn’s arm. She spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, and at first, Dawn wondered if the woman knew about the Spirit Stones. But, no.
“Your lipstick is smudged,” she snipped before continuing after Regina.
Dawn stared. Did the woman think lipstick was the biggest problem she had on her hands? She rubbed the back of her hand against her mouth and turned to Hunter. “Better?”
His mind was elsewhere, she could see, but he did flash a little smile. “Worse.”
“Damn it.” She vowed never to go undercover again. Who cared about lipstick? The problem was, if she had clown lips, she’d stick out in the crowd. Given that the Vanderpelts’ private bodyguards seemed to have an eagle eye on the diamond, she figured she could dash to the restroom for one minute.
“I’ll be right back,” she said before moving away. And, oops— She’d been holding Hunter’s hands, and her fingers slid over his as they parted, making her tingle again.
When she stepped out of the tent, the cool night air seemed fresher and cleaner than ever, at least after the stuffy party tent. Over at the main building of the resort, the line at the ladies’ room stretched out into the hallway, so she turned down a side corridor to a different restroom few people used. She checked her reflection and grimaced before grabbing a paper towel to wipe the smudged lipstick away.
“Hey,” someone yelped in the hallway.
Dawn went absolutely still then raced out the door. What was going on?
The next door down was a broom closet, and the door was ajar. A second later, a woman rushed out, clutching her dress. Wild-eyed, she ran past Dawn.
“Wait—” Dawn started, seeing the woman’s tears and ripped resort staff uniform — the signs of a barely thwarted assault.
A man backed out of the broom closet next, and Dawn whirled, ready to tackle the man and book him.
It was Toby, the valet, and Dawn balked. Was mild-mannered Toby really capable of assaulting one of the maids?
But Toby’s face was white, and his hands shook as he addressed someone else. “I won’t tell. I swear. But, listen. You can’t just—”
“You listen to me, kid,” a bass growled from inside the closet.
Dawn stepped forward, ready to book them both, then froze as the gray-haired man emerged, jabbing a finger at Toby’s chest. “You want to keep this job, you shut your—” The man broke off and jerked his head toward Dawn.
For a minute, Dawn and Toby stared at the older man like a couple of deer caught in headlights. Then the man cursed under his breath and quietly adjusted his tie — and his fly.
Dawn’s heart pounded in her chest as everything fell into place. Toby hadn’t committed assault. He’d inadvertently stopped one. This older man — a man Hunter had treated like a mortal enemy — had been the one to attack the young woman.
The silver-haired man strode past Dawn in a few easy steps, pausing to check his collar in a mirror before disappearing around a corner. Dawn stood, dumbstruck at his gall. She’d thought Regina was bad, but damn — this man was pure evil. Arrogant. Self-centered. A man with total disregard for anyone except himself.
“I didn’t do anything,” Toby said in a shaky voice. “I just opened the door, and he was…”
She hurried after the man. That monster was not getting away with this. Not on her watch.
A member of hotel security was coming her way, and she grabbed his arm, towing him along as backup.
“We need to stop that man. I’m booking him.” She pointed at the back of the finely tailored suit, already heading out the front door.
“Are you nuts?” the man hissed. “You can’t arrest Jericho Deroux.”
Dawn froze in midstep. “Jericho…”
Jericho Deroux burned our place down, Hunter had said shortly after mentioning his mother’s death.
She shook the guard’s arm, needing to be sure. “Jericho who? From where?”
“Jericho Deroux. Big oil guy from Alaska. He’s a close associate of the Vanderpelts. Believe me, you don’t want to mess with him.”
Dawn rushed out the door. Oh, but she would mess with Jericho. How many women had he assaulted in his time? How many witnesses had he threatened or bribed into silence? She ran after him, already planning her next steps. She’d grab some help and arrest the man, then track down the maid and convince her to press charges and testify. She’d personally see to it that the arrogant ass landed in jail. She’d… She’d…
She forced herself to slow down and keep cool. One little mistake, one irregularity, and the sexual assault case could be torn down by the high-end lawyers a man like Jericho was bound to have.
She peered inside the party tent. Jericho strode casually to the Vanderpelts and started chatting as if nothing had happened. Dawn felt sick, imagining his words.
Sorry I was delayed. That sweet young thing I forced into a closet refused to cooperate.
She imagined Roger Vanderpelt commiserating. If only women kept their mouths shut and their legs spread.
Of course, they wouldn’t say any such thing. They’d talk business and politics and go on believing the world belonged to men like them.
She ground her teeth, trying to decide how to proceed. Backup, that’s what she needed. She couldn’t blow the case before everything was in place.
She spotted Hunter half a second after he spotted her. His tiny smile of greeting turned to a straight line of concern as she rapidly schooled her features into a calmer state. But it was too late — Hunter had spotted the look of disgust she’d shot at Jericho. His hands left his sides like a gunslinger ready to draw, and his eyes narrowed on Jericho, even angrier than before. Dawn almost wanted Hunter to turn into a bear and rip Jericho to bits. In fact, she was amazed he hadn’t done so before. Jericho had killed his parents. If that wasn’t proof of Hunter’s self-restraint, she didn’t know what was.
But Hunter had just reached his tipping point, it seemed, because he pushed away from the wall and made a beeline for Jericho.
“Oh, shit,” she cursed, hurrying to intercept Hunter before it was too late.