She bumped his hand with her nose, trying to make up with him, and he smiled. “You’ll be fine,” he repeated, but the undercurrent of tension relayed a promise. The pack would take care of her—and the police officers—if she screwed up.

Chapter 19

Alicia didn’t want to screw up in front of the police. She didn’t want to always be a problem for the pack. Lying in the backseat of the SUV in wolf form, she tried to think of something other than the interrogation that awaited her.

But she was having a difficult time thinking of anything else. This time, like when she’d been questioned about the shootings at the Crestview Motel, she’d have to tell the truth, minus the wolf part of the tale. She’d discussed the wolf business with Jake and his brothers—and Peter because he had the mind of a cop. But she knew from past experience that no matter how prepared she might be to tell the police her story, one little bit of evidence she hadn’t known about, one little thing like an eyewitness account could throw her version of what had happened into the sewer.

Instead, she tried to think about her wedding dress—a cream-colored, A-line gown with a corset-type bodice that had asymmetrical swirls wrapped around it, embellished with lace and pearls in a soft, shimmery satin. The full-pleated skirt that swirled out in full opulence below the slim-fitted bodice cupped her derriere and then extended out into an elegant train. The dress made her feel like a fairy princess, and Jake was definitely her fairy-tale knight.

Some of the younger women had clamored to take part in the wedding and would be wearing violet dresses as bridesmaids. Several girls would participate as flower girls, and Lelandi would be the matron of honor. Because of all the teasing Jake was getting over the whole affair, he had selected Tom, Peter, Sam, and four other men to be his groomsmen, while Tom was the best man. Darien would serve as the father of the bride. Others he had tasked to serve as ushers. Alicia had been amused because although most of the men tried to show they didn’t care for the idea of a wedding, she saw another side of them—a sense of family, of celebration, of belonging—and their enthusiasm didn’t go unnoticed.

The men participating would wear black tuxes with gray satin cravats and tuxedo vests. The best part? The woman in charge of the bridal shop said she’d have everything ready to go in a week’s time, which was good because Alicia kept fretting that she might start to show and the gown wouldn’t fit. She groaned. What if she shape-shifted in the middle of the ceremony? First wedding ever for a lupus garou pack and first major disaster. She could see it now. No one would ever allow a wedding ceremony to take place again.

In her wolf form, she lay down on the backseat and closed her eyes. She hadn’t told Lelandi the truth about having had weddings before because she’d been trying to get out of doing anything this formal. But Alicia had never had a wedding dress. Never been married in a church. Never had a bridesmaid or a father to give her away. Just a mother and her boyfriend to serve as her witnesses in front of a judge, twice.

She smiled at the thought of being a beautiful bride for Jake.

Then she sighed. He didn’t want this. He probably wouldn’t be happy with any of it, no matter how nice the ceremony was or how excited the ladies were about having it. She hadn’t been able to read Darien. Apparently, he’d agreed to give her away, but he had seemed distracted, probably over this further police business. She suspected he was worried that she could get all of the pack members who went with her in trouble if she ended up shape-shifting while being questioned. And that’s when she began to worry about the interrogation again.

She must have managed to sleep for a couple of hours. When she finally awoke from a nice wolf nap, she was surprised that her head was in Jake’s lap. When had he climbed into the rear seat with her?

He was stroking her back in a soothing way, and when she lifted her head, he said, “We’re almost there. But if we have to, we’ll just park somewhere until you can shape-shift. We’ll tell the police we were held up because of a flat tire, running out of gas, something.”

She closed her eyes, cursed her inability to shift when she needed to, and tried to convince herself it was time to be a human. A few minutes later, she was hastily getting dressed in the rear seat, hoping the tinted windows were truly tinted enough so that no one could see into the vehicle while they were parked under a shade tree in a park.

Once she was presentable, Peter drove the SUV to Ferdinand Massaro’s condo where the police were supposed to meet them.

“We’re here,” Peter said quietly a few minutes later, as if he was trying not to upset her and cause her to shift again.

She had no idea why the urge to shift came and went like it did. She suspected it had something to do with having not changed in so long since the last time.

“How are you feeling?” Jake asked, running his hand over her stomach.

“I’m all right. At least I hope I’ll be.” But she really wasn’t. Every inch of her body was feeling the tension, and she was terrified she’d get their kind into trouble.

“Let’s go then,” Jake said, sounding like he wanted to get this over in a hurry, just like she did.

Her bodyguard detail stayed in the second vehicle, figuring that with the police here, she’d have no trouble. Jake took Alicia’s hand and led her to the front door of the brick two-story condo, while Tom and Peter followed. An officer let them in while two others watched them, and then introductions were shared around the living room. Helm Sanderson was tall and stout and looked down at her like she was in for real trouble. John Kohn looked like he’d slept in his clothes, his face wearing a couple of days’ growth of blond stubble, his eyes bloodshot. The last detective, Arthur Connelly, was younger than the other two and kept looking at them as if reading their cues on what to do.

“Have a seat, Miss Greiston,” Sanderson said, motioning to the couch where she’d seen Ferdinand’s dead body.

If the detectives had wanted to see her reaction, to see if she’d actually witnessed Massaro sitting dead on that couch, they hadn’t needed to do anything further.

“I… I don’t feel well,” she suddenly said, a cold sweat breaking out across her skin, her vision blurring as a fresh wave of nausea struck. She rushed for what she hoped was the kitchen.

She could smell the death in the room although they’d cleaned the place up. She could smell the colognes of the men who’d murdered Ferdinand. The odors were making her gag, bringing back the terror she’d experienced when the one man had come looking for her and she’d barely breathed beneath the bed.

She made it in time to throw up in the sink, as Jake drew close and rubbed her back gently. She noticed the youngest detective watching her, while the other two remained in the living room with Tom and Peter. Had Detective Connelly come to see if she was truly sick or just faking it? Or was he just not as jaded as the older detectives? She halfway suspected he was checking on her to see if she was faking being sick.

Jake got a paper towel and offered it to her. She cupped her hands under the faucet and rinsed out her mouth, not wanting to touch anything else in the condo, although they would have already dusted everything for fingerprints. And yes, had found her prints on the front door. Not that she had been thinking very clearly that night. Not when she had found Massaro dead, was afraid for her own life, and was trying to get over the fact she’d turned into a wolf.

“Are you all right, Miss Greiston?” Detective Connelly asked.

“Yes,” she managed feebly, feeling horrible.

“She’s pregnant with triplets,” Jake explained.

The detective quickly looked at Alicia’s waist, back to her face, and turned pale. He put his hands out and motioned back to the living room. “Please, come in and sit down, if you think you can manage now.”

Jake took her arm and led her back into the room. Once they were in the living area, he let her guide him to where she wanted to sit. When she was seated on a couch at a right angle to the one where Massaro had been murdered, Sanderson sat down only inches from where Massaro had been sitting and said, “Tell us what happened. From the beginning. Don’t leave any detail out.”

“I want a lawyer,” Alicia said, tilting her chin up and staring Sanderson down.

Everyone stared at her in surprise.

“I don’t feel well,” she continued. “I haven’t committed any crime, yet I feel I may be incriminating myself if I don’t have a lawyer present.”

“You’re not a suspect, Miss Greiston. If you have nothing to hide…” Detective Sanderson said, spreading his arms wide as if trying to reassure her that talking to him wouldn’t be a problem.

She shook her head. “I want a lawyer.”

***

Jake could tell something was wrong with Alicia, more than just the pregnancy. He was worried she was fighting shape-shifting again. “Is she free to go until we can get hold of a lawyer?”

Detective Sanderson looked pissed off as he folded his arms. “We need to know what happened. She was in the condo. We have a warrant to get a blood sample from her. We have her prints on the inside doorknob. So what happened when Massaro was murdered? We want to know what she saw or heard, who was here, anything that could help us piece together what happened so we can catch whoever did this.”

“And if she was here? And didn’t report a murder? Then she could be charged with a crime,” Jake said. “Is she free until we can obtain legal representation?”

“She’s not a suspect. Just a person of interest. In fact, we suspect she was a victim, if the bloodstains are hers,” Sanderson insisted. “We know she was here. We know she’s afraid of them. That she was afraid they might learn she was here and would kill her for it. But whatever she can tell us can help us to nail them.”

Jake helped Alicia to her feet. “We’ll be in touch as soon as we get a lawyer.”

“I could hold her for obstructing justice,” Sanderson said, playing hardball.