Something was brewing, an undercurrent which Cameron found very difficult to pinpoint. He knew that both the police department and the pack were fraught with suspicions about him and his connection to Gabriella Medina, or Grace Kelly. He could sense a discourse occurring under his well-honed nose, but he could not say if it was as bad as it seemed, or if his guilty conscious was eating away at him.

He had gone too far to go back, that he knew.

After breaking back into the crime scene on 56th Street South, he had located Gabriella’s safe easily, hidden precisely where she had told him it would be. From there, he had gotten in his car and driven southwest nine hours to Boise, Idaho, where he had withdrawn money from several different banks. He had reasoned that if anyone had been keeping tabs on Gabriella’s spending, they would be a state away searching for her. Who would have access to such information? Police? Private investigators? Mayors?

Without stopping to rest, he had turned around and returned home by daylight, where he had called on Cory Seaver.

“I need a favor,” he’d told the man. “And don’t ask any questions.”

It was one of the main reasons why Cameron had thought to call the expensive lawyer from Spokane. He could be trusted not to open his mouth unnecessarily.

Cory had grown up in Great Falls and knew the town well. He also owed Cameron a lot, something the sheriff did not need to mention when he commissioned Cory to make the trip from Washington.

“Take care of her. She knows things that she isn’t aware can put her in danger,” Cameron told him on the phone.

“Is there something I should know?” the suave attorney replied in his cocksure way.

“Just do it and leave me out of it,” Cameron said. “I have work to do.”

“What do you want me to do with her after I bail her out?”

“For someone who isn’t supposed to be asking questions, you sure ask a lot of them,” Cameron snapped. “Figure it out.”

The conversation had ended there and Cameron had exhaled, knowing that the girl who had begun haunting his every thought was safe.

He was blurry-eyed as he stared at his office computer.

I should go home and sleep, he thought, trying to recall the last time he had rested. His instincts were weakening, and he knew he was losing power from all angles. He rose to grab his jacket, but before he could move, Jeannie came floating through the workspace, smiling happily as she placed a file on his desk.

“Forensics just faxed over the results of John Doe’s autopsy results,” she chirped. “Death by exsanguination by weapon or weapons unknown. But you’ll note that the coroner has seen the markings before.”

She glanced at him meaningfully, but Cameron ignored the implication.

Of course they have seen it before; bodies with these markings were found in spades before I reined in the pack. They haven’t seen a killing like this in a decade.

“Why are you grinning?” he demanded, snatching the paper from the folder and peering at the pathologist’s report. The words were difficult to read in his exhausted state.

“Because we know who he is now,” Jeannie replied, leaning up against the desk and folding her arms beneath her huge breasts.

Cameron peered up at her. “We got an ID?”

“Yep, I ran his DNA through CODIS. He’s in the system—a few times.”

With wide eyes, the sheriff fumbled through the papers in his hand to learn the identity of the dead man. In seconds, he was holding the pages-long arrest record in his hand.

“Andrew Bell. Did twelve years for attempted murder, five years for torture, two years for assault…” Cameron’s intense blue eyes flittered down the sheet to find his known associates and he nodded knowingly. “He’s a mob guy from New York. Jesus Christ.”

Jeannie peered pensively at her boss, a small smile toying on her lips.

“That’s an interesting spin on things,” she said lightly. “Maybe that accounts for the man winding up dead and the girl not talking. Someone from the mob threatened her, so she made up a batshit crazy story about wolves in her panic.”

Cameron swallowed.

I will mention this to Seaver. Maybe he can put that spin on it if this ever makes it to trial.

“Could be,” he said. He glanced up at Jeannie gratefully. “Thanks for bringing this to me,” he told her.

At least he now had somewhere to start looking for whoever was targeting Gabriella, but it was becoming fairly clear who it was: the mayor of New York City, David Charlotte.

He pushed open the door to his apartment, his eyes still glued to the files.

It only makes sense that the mayor would have connections to the mob, but why would he want Gabriella dead, especially if he was the one who owned up to the affair and she left town? She is not a danger to him. She has been denying it from the start, and with her out of town, he has nothing to worry about from her anymore. But who else could it be?

Cameron assumed something more was going on than he could see, but he intended to learn everything he could and confront the man with an arrest warrant for conspiracy to commit murder.

Hell, I may even charge the bastard with murder for the death of his hitman for good measure, and ensure he never sees the light of day.

A familiar rage was beginning to grow in Cameron as he thought of how close Gabriella had come to being killed.

He almost ruined everything by sending that demon out here. I was almost exposed—

Cameron froze, his eyes adjusting to the blackness of his apartment.

Someone was in his place.

Quietly, he placed the file on the kitchen table and prowled toward the living room without making a noise. His nose sniffed the air for a clue as to who the intruder was, but Cameron’s senses were substantially lower than usual. He had not fed nor slept in too long.

He could hear a faint noise coming from the bedroom as he drew closer, but he realized it was the television. Did I leave that thing on in the bedroom? It was possible, but he could not recall doing it. It did not change the fact that someone was in the apartment. Slowly, he pushed open the door to the bedroom and sighed, lowering his hand from his hip where it hovered over his sidearm.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he grunted, thrusting open the door with a thud as it crashed into the wall. Gabriella jumped at the noise, her face growing pale.

“What the hell is wrong with you, sneaking up on me?” she yelled back, her hand over her heart.

Cameron was immediately contrite, and he hurried inside the room.

“Sorry,” he told her begrudgingly. “I wasn’t expecting you here. Why are you here?”

She looked at him as if stunned by his apology. She lowered her shoulders as she realized she was not in danger.

“Cory said I was staying here until trial,” she replied dryly.

It was Cameron’s turn to grow pale. “Staying here?” he echoed. “You can’t stay here.”

Gabriella immediately jumped to her feet.

“I thought he was full of shit,” she grunted. “But he opened the door and told me to wait for you. He told me to tell you that he ‘figured it out as you requested.’ I can leave if you want me to.”

Cameron stifled a groan, remembering what he had told the attorney earlier. Just one more person I am going to have to deal with later, he thought grimly.

“No, it’s fine,” he told her. “You can stay tonight. We’ll make different arrangements in the morning.”

She peered at him uncertainly.

“I can’t understand why Cory would have brought me here if it wasn’t what you wanted.”

Cameron knew exactly why, but he did not explain it to Gabriella; she had enough to worry about.

“Have you eaten?” he said instead. “I don’t have much here, but I can order a pizza or something.” He winced at the sound of the words, but to his surprise, she nodded in agreement.

“I’m actually famished,” she said. “I ate with Cory after court, but I could use more nourishment.”

Cameron chuckled lightly and shrugged. “I can’t guarantee that Great Falls Pizza is nourishing, but it’s food.”

Gabriella sat back down on the edge of the bed, where she had been watching television, and nodded.

“Sounds good,” she agreed, and Cameron picked up the home phone on the bedside table, pressing a speed dial number. If Gabriella noticed, she did not comment as the sheriff placed the order. When he replaced the cordless phone on its charger, he turned to the lovely brunette, unsure of what to say.

She was so beautiful, yet vulnerable, sitting tersely on his king-size bed. Cameron suddenly found himself inexplicably embarrassed by his mediocre accommodations. It was not that he could not afford better—he just did not see the point when he was alone.

She’s used to living in luxury and she’s hiding out in a one-bedroom apartment in Great Falls.

“I guess you didn’t have any problems getting access to the money,” Gabriella said, watching him out of the corner of her coffee-colored eyes. He shook his head.

“No. I went out of state to retrieve it, just in case someone was tracking your spending.”

She looked at him appreciatively and nodded.

“That was smart. Thank you for everything you’ve done,” she murmured.

Cameron drew closer to her and sat gingerly beside her. “We identified the man who was in your house.” Gabriella’s head whipped upward and she stared at him with hope.

“You did?” she gasped. “Who is he?”

“His name is Andrew Bell. He is a mob affiliate from New York.”

Gabriella’s face underwent a variety of changes, settling on confusion. “A mob hit? That makes no sense. I have never had any dealings with anyone like that. Why would the mafia want me dead?”

“You tell me,” Cameron replied. “I am thinking it has something to do with your relationship with David Charlotte.”

“There was no relationship with David Charlotte!” Gabriella shouted, her face growing red with anger. “It never happened!”

Cameron was taken aback by the passion in her tone. He supposed it was only natural that she would deny it—she had done so in the past, if the articles he had read were any indication—but she seemed genuinely upset by the mention of the mayor.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?” he asked, resisting his usual urge to respond with cynicism. He was learning that she did not respond well to his intimidation tactics. She’s got her own mind and she will stand her ground. If I don’t tread softly, we will just end up yelling at one another.

Gabriella seemed uncomfortable at first, but she seemed to read something in his face; whatever it was, it encouraged her to speak.

“I don’t really even know what happened,” she confessed. “I was away in Milan for a photo-shoot, and when I returned to New York, my voicemail was full and there were reporters camped outside my house. Apparently, the mayor had confessed to having some torrid affair with me when pictures surfaced of him with some brunette.”

“Well, if you’re in the pictures—”

“That’s not me!” Gabriella insisted. “No one can tell who the girl is, and if wasn’t for David Charlotte saying it was me, there would be no reason to believe it!”

“There must be some way to prove that you were nowhere near him when those pictures were taken,” Cameron commented.

She shrugged miserably. “No one wants to hear what I have to say. Why would a ‘happily’ married man make up such a story if it wasn’t true? It could ruin his career and his marriage. Although from what I hear, he’s being revered for standing up and confessing to this horseshit story. Even his wife is sticking by him.”

Cameron’s brow furrowed. What reason would a man have for naming a woman who isn’t his mistress as his mistress?

His eyes widened as the answer came to him.

“The real brunette in those pictures is a bigger danger to him than a supermodel, obviously,” he realized aloud, and Gabriella stared at him.

“Of course!” she said excitedly. “He wants the real woman kept secret, so he found a scapegoat. Why didn’t I think of that? I thought that he had some weird vendetta against me this entire time. I couldn’t understand why he would say something so untrue.”

Gabriella cocked her head to the side and stared at Cameron.

“He’s hired someone to kill me so I don’t continue to proclaim my innocence?” she asked quietly. “This is so much worse than I thought.”

Without thinking, Cameron put his hand on her shoulder.

“You don’t need to worry, Gabriella. We will get to the bottom of this. We’re already on the right path.”

“Hopefully we’ll figure it out before the next hitman finds me,” she lamented. “I wonder how he found me in the first place.”

Cameron put her chin between his thumb and index finger, drawing her face upward to look at him.

“You need to trust me, Gabriella,” he told her in a low tone. “I will not allow anything to happen to you.”

Gabriella stared at him, her mouth parting slightly as she read the sincerity in his eyes.

“Why?” she whispered. “I have been nothing but a pain in your ass since I got here.”

Cameron nodded, not releasing her.

“Yes, yes you have,” he agreed. “But I am drawn to you.”

The words were foreign to his ears and tongue, but he did not regret saying them as Gabriella’s luminous eyes widened.

As in his dream, she reached forward, encircling her arms around his neck and pulling him close, tasting his lips timidly, like she was worried he would pull away. He forgot about the danger he was putting them both in as his mouth parted, feeling the tingle of electricity pass between them.

Cameron returned the kiss with the passion he had been containing since the day he had met her, his hands slipping about her arms to caress her smooth, bronze skin. He wanted her as he had never wanted another and he could not allow the moment to pass.

Her eyes closed and his face moved down her cheek, inhaling her skin as he slipped her shirt above her head, exposing her firm, braless breasts. She looked exactly as he had envisioned her, and he relished the taste of her as he nuzzled her cleavage. Gabriella sighed, falling back onto the bed, and Cameron licked at her eagerly, his hands unbuttoning her tight jeans. Lightly, his mouth grazed over her chest, sucking gently on her erect nipples, his hands cupping her tiny rear against his huge hands. Lower his face traveled, smelling her succulent flesh until he focussed in her center.

She moaned softly as he dove into her, wanting her sighs to become screams. His tongue contacted her throbbing core and he began to lap at her in smooth, even strokes, feeling her tense beneath him, her breaths quickening as her hands curled into the sheets. He felt her beginning to lose control as she bucked upward, her orgasm growing, but Cameron wanted to feel the magnitude of her release upon him.

Abruptly he stopped, pulling himself back to release his own pants, his member engorged and ready to take her as he had yearned to do for weeks. She was ready for him, her brown eyes flying open to watch him, her arms pulling him close.

He slipped inside her fluidly, and they instantly fell into a rhythm as though they had choreographed their union. Gabriella’s slender legs wrapped about his broad waist, linking her ankles around him, pushing him deep inside her. In seconds, Cameron could feel the hot gush of juices against him, and a feral cry escaped Gabriella’s lips as she shattered around him.

He did not slow, instead increasing his motion as he filled her deeply, feeling his own desire prepared to spill into her hot and furiously. His arm securely around her waist, Cameron allowed himself to explode, watching Gabriella’s awed expression as he shuddered almost violently.

Their hearts were a synchronized hammering as they stared at one another, the last of their juices expelling from their bodies.

Cameron opened his mouth to speak, but a sudden pounding on the door interrupted him.

“Pizza!” they declared in unison, laughing. Cameron pulled out of her quickly, offering her an almost shy smile before locating his pants and pulling them over his hips, scrounging through his pockets for money.

Rushing to the door, he pulled it open, his happy beam fading.

“Hey, boss,” Brewer said, leeringly. “Can we come in?”

Behind the cop was the remainder of the pack, Cory leaning against the railing, shaking his head as he examined his nails. The attorney glanced up at him, the expression in his smoky grey eyes unmistakable.

That son of a bitch ratted me out.

Cameron knew he was in a lot of trouble.