Fifteen

 

 

 

“For crying out loud, guys, don’t you ever file your paperwork?” Even though Luna had muttered this several times over the course of the day, she couldn’t help but utter them again. What did they expect when she found invoices for motor parts dating back to last year in the coffee mug cupboard?

A series of loud clangs reverberated around the garage. “We’re guys, sis. Guys don’t do paperwork,” Michael yelled from underneath the hood of some beat-up old truck.

“I’m surprised you’re able to file your taxes each year,” she called back as she started rifling through the newly found paperwork.

Laughter trickled across the room. “Actually, we got your mom to do it for us,” Chase replied, sorting through a box of tools. “Sherrie was a stickler for details and said until we could do it as well as she could, we weren’t to touch it.”

Luna snorted. That definitely sounds like something mum would’ve done. Releasing a sigh, she glanced down at the pieces of paper in her hands. Now that mum’s gone, the guys are going to have to start doing this themselves. Shaking her head as though to rid herself of the intense feelings of sadness that threatened to rise whenever she thought of her parent’s passing, Luna reached for the kettle. At least she had the time now to drink tea whenever she wanted, instead of it growing cold.

Michael had ordered that she was not to be left alone and he was making good on that promise. Early that morning, he’d all but shoved her into his pick-up truck and driven her to the garage he and Chase owned. Chase had stayed behind to hand over guard duties, or babysitting duties as he called it, to Mike. The older werewolf had not been too happy to see Misty, but Luna was certain he’d be fair with her.

So now she was stuck in the garage while the guys worked. At first, she’d tried reading, but the sight of Chase’s black t-shirt melded to every contour of his muscular chest had … somewhat distracted her. Every glance in Chase’s direction made a field’s worth of butterflies’ flutter in her belly, a flurry of sensations erupting from her stomach and spreading warmth between her thighs. Luna desperately tried to hide the sound of her ragged breathing, but every time she did, she caught Chase looking up, giving her a mischievous grin. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing to her.

Michael had not been impressed. Within an hour of Chase arriving, he’d relegated Luna to the little side office and ordered her to do something productive. Sorting through paperwork may be boring – and incredibly boring, at that – but it provided her with a distraction, and both werewolves could get on with some work without her raging hormones disrupting them. 

“Luna,” Michael called. “Make us a coffee!”

“What’s the magic word?” she called back, rolling her eyes.

“Abracadabra!”

Heaving a sigh, Luna poured the coffee into two mugs and carried them out, bumping into a workbench as she manoeuvred her way across the garage. Hot coffee spilled across her hand, drops of the dark bitter liquid sploshing over her black denim jeans. Resisting the urge to swear, Luna quickly set down Michael’s mug beside his feet and grabbed a rag. Using the clean side, she dabbed at the spots where the scalding liquid had splashed, a grimace blemishing her face. At least no one will be able to see the stains, she told herself despondently.

A gentle touch caused her to raise her head. Silently, Chase took the other mug from her hand and placed it on the side before removing the rag and wiping her hand and leg for her. Luna zeroed in on his perfectly full lips, and his dark, intelligent eyes. The heat from the coffee melted away with the heat rising from within her loins as she continued to stare at him. Flecks of gold started to grow in his dark eyes, encased in the longest lashes she had ever seen in a man.

A low growl built within Chase’s throat, the sound causing her body to tense and her lips to ache with the need to kiss him. A fierce heat blazed in his eyes as he curled his lips into a wicked smile. It was only when Luna could taste his staggered breath on her face that she realised she had inched closer to him. Oh my god, what am I doing? Heat pooled into her cheeks, and her body trembled as she forced herself to take a step back.

“For fuck’s sake, guys, I’m trying to work here. Cut it out!” Michael’s words threw cold water on the situation. Stepping back, disappointment and frustration staining those gold-flecked eyes, Chase grabbed his coffee and retreated to the safety of his workspace.

Feeling the heat rush up her neck and stain her cheeks pink, Luna’s eyes dropped to the ground and resolved to limit herself to the confines of the office with her book. She’d wanted to read Homer’s Iliad for years; she could hole up in there and not come out until it was finished or when it was safe.

Not that it would ever be safe. The things that Chase did to her body without even touching her meant it would never be safe for her to come out. So she could do one of two things – focus on her book or deal with yet more paperwork.

Homer wins today. Settling into one of the hardest chairs she’d ever had to sit on – even worse than the straight-backed chairs at her prestigious boarding school – Luna forced herself to concentrate.

It wasn’t until the Trojans were advancing from the city gates and marching towards the Achaeans that Luna heard something that forced her attention from the pages. She could hear Michael talking, but the words were muffled, the sounds of metal banging against metal or the floor had ceased. Setting the book beside her cup, the remnants cold and forgotten, she slowly rose from the sea to the delight of aching back. Vowing to order something a more comfortable for the office if they ever survived the coming dark days, Luna snuck her head around the doorframe.

Michael stood beside the small table that acted as their front desk, with paperwork piled in several neat little rows. A laptop sat in the middle, flanked by stationary perfectly organised now she had worked her secretarial skills. At least now the guys would be able to find what they were looking for.

“I see you’re working on Sam’s car. Nasty crash he had,” came a harsh guttural male voice.

“Yeah, going to take some time to fix it, Sheriff. Maybe the invoice will teach him not to drink and drive,” Chase replied, the last words smeared in blatant disbelief, leaning against the battered hood of the vehicle, his arms crossed over his chest, a wrench clutched in his hand.

“Hmph. A few days locked up and facing Judge Stiner is more likely to fix it. Not that you can fix stupid. Ah look, here’s your sister,” he said, nodding in her direction.

Luna froze when the eyes of the town’s sheriff caught sight of her peeking around the door. Portly with greying hair and ruthlessly cold grey eyes, there was something about him she simply didn’t like. There were dirt and wet patches on the bottom of his navy trousers, and his thick dark jacket struggled to reach across his belly. Cold as stone amid a winter storm, he locked his intense gaze on her, piercing right through her, causing a shiver to flow along her arms. “Good afternoon, Sheriff,” she forced out.

“Afternoon, miss. What ya doing back there?” Briggs asked, crossing his arms. “You’re not working, right? There be rules here about foreigners working illegally.”

Annoyance rippled through her. “I have both American and French citizenship, Sheriff, so that means I’m legally allowed to work both here and in Europe. But no, to answer your question, I am not working here. I’m simply reading my book while Michael and Chase are working.”

A crease appeared between his brows, and he sorted derisively. “Something foreign, I suppose?”

Luna shrugged. “Homer’s Iliad, so something old and foreign, I guess.”

Something flashed beneath the surface of his hardened expression, but before Luna could pinpoint what it was, it disappeared. “Something you read at your fancy boarding school?”

“Classical literature was just one of many subjects taught at the academy. We read everything from ancient works to modern classics. I haven’t had much chance to read lately, so it’s nice to get back to it.”

Michael took a step forward, a thick vertical line pulling between his brows. “Sheriff, is there something we can help you with?”

“When was the last time you were around Wolf’s Creek?” Briggs asked, turning that searching gaze to Michael’s face.

The crease deepened between his brows. “Not for a while. Why?”

“How long?” Briggs pressed.

“About two weeks or so.”

“What d’ya go down there for?”

“I like to go running, Sheriff, and it does border my lands.”

“You still got wolves on your land there, son?”

Sitting on the side of the desk, Michael crossed his arms, his face going neutral. “They come and go as they wish but yeah, I’ve still got them. They don’t do any harm.”

“If ya say so, but I know a few farmers who’d disagree with you.” A dark brow arched as his expression transformed into one of disgust.

Luna could see the argument building in Michael’s eyes as they shimmered with defiance. “What farmer around here has complained about them? I’ve certainly not heard of any issues.”

Ignoring Michael’s question, Briggs reached inside his jacket, the thick material straining over his ever-expanding belly. He pulled out a photo which he thrust in Michael’s direction. “You know this girl?”

His face took on a grim expression as he shook his head. “No, I don’t know her.”

His eyes narrowed, seeming to scrutinise every micro-expression that fell across Michael’s face. “Look again, please. Look harder. Maybe you’ve seen her at the bar or somewhere outta town?”

Michael shook his head. “I can look as many times as you want, still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t know her.” His voice took on a matter-of-fact tone.

Briggs turned towards Chase, handing him the photo. “Perhaps you know her?”

Glancing at the photo, Chase shook his head. “Sorry, Sheriff, I don’t know her either.”

Twisting his large frame towards Luna, his eyes scanning her in the most unusual way. “I doubt you’d know her since you’ve not been here long enough to know everyone, but do you recognise this girl?”

A nervous chill radiated through her body as she took the photo in her fingers, instantly regretting it as her eyes took in the grisly sight. A young woman, only a few years younger than herself she estimated, sprawled across the forest floor, her limbs bent at unnatural angles. Dead leaves laid scattered across the snow, dispersed among the tendrils of golden hair, stained crimson with blood. Her blue eyes were open, the cornflower blue irises retaining a look of horror. Her neck was torn open, the blood staining her thin white sweater, tendons and muscles visible when they should be hidden. Bile threatened to spill upwards as Luna shakily handed the photo back, her fingers trembling, heart slamming against her chest. It wasn’t the first dead body she had seen, but still, there was something about the poor girl that touched her. “Non, I don’t know her.”

Tiredness swept across the sheriff’s face before it flittered away, replaced by that normal cold expression, as he tucked the photo back inside his jacket. “Got a call early this morning. Right as I was enjoying my coffee. Some guy said to head out to Wolf’s Creek if I wanted to find a body. When I asked whose body it was, they told me it was some girl’s. That this poor girl had partied with the wrong guy and paid the price. So I grabbed one of my deputies, and we drove out there. While you might like to go running in the snow, I’d rather be behind my desk, drinking coffee and freezing my nuts off. Deputy Cross and I were out there for nearly an hour when we found her. And do you want to you know what my little informer told me?” Briggs glanced upwards, locking with Michael’s, those stone-hued eyes glowing with a fire Luna hadn’t thought him possible. “They told me that you did it. That you raped and killed her before dumping her body in the woods.” Even though his tone was soft as feathers, it felt as though he was yelling.

For an extended second, silence stretched across the room. A hint of anger danced across Michael’s face. “And you believed them? That I raped and killed this girl?” Disgust curled around the words as he spat them out.

Shrugging his shoulders, the sheriff leaned back against the brick wall. “You tell me.”

The muscles in Michael’s shoulders were tight as a violin’s string and his voice rang loudly against the backdrop of stunned silence. “That’s crazy, Sheriff. I’m not a rapist. I get enough women after me without the need to do something as repulsive as that.”

“Maybe you wanted this one more than she wanted you,” he suggested. “It’s been known to happen. You hit a dry spell, and it makes you do things you normally wouldn’t do.”

“That’s ludicrous,” Chase replied, taking a step forward. “Michael’s not a rapist, and he’s certainly not a murderer.”

Forcing herself to bite down on the wave of sickness that flooded her stomach, Luna stepped towards her brother, her hand resting lightly on his bare arm, slicked with grease and sweat. “Sheriff, you’ve known my brother for years. For you to suggest that he is capable of this heinous act is awful.”

“We have a dead girl in town. No one knows who she is but what we do know is that she’s been sexually assaulted in more than just one way and her dead body was found near his lands.” Briggs spread his hands. “What’cha expect me to think?”

“So you’re going to believe some strange voice on the end of a phone? It’s more likely to be that they killed and dumped her body and are trying to pin it on Michael,” Luna told him, her voice trembling slightly despite endeavouring to keep it steady.

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” the portly sheriff spat towards her, his eyes narrowing, gleaming with arrogance. “But what I am going to tell your brother is this – Michael England, I’m arresting you on suspicion of rape and murder. You don’t have to say anything, but anything you do say may be used against you in a court of law. Hope you’ve got a good lawyer, boy.”