Dammit, why couldn’t things be simple? But findingThe Onehadn’t been easy for any of his teammates, so why should it be different for him?
“I still think you should tell her that she’s your soul mate,” Connor insisted.
“Yeah right.” Trey snorted. “We’ve been on two whole dates and you think it would be a good idea to throw her in the deep end of the pool. I can see it now.Hey, Samantha, you know those weird feelings you’ve been experiencing? Well, you’re getting them because I’m a werewolf and you’re my soul mate. But don’t worry, I promise not to bite.”
Connor scowled. “Okay, I guess I see your point. But you know you’ll have to tell her at some point, so maybe you should come up with a plan now on how you’re going to do that. Unless you want it to all blow up in your face.”
Maybe Connor was right. Maybe if he sat Samantha down and explained everything in a very straightforward, scientific way, she’d realize what they had was too important for her to ever expose that he and his pack mates were werewolves. He needed to stop overcomplicating things and put his faith in the bond developing between them.
When he and Connor came to a rather unassuming bar illuminated by a series of soft orange and red neon signs in the windows, Trey had to admit it didn’t look like the kind of place Alden would have hung out. It seemed a little too low-key for the guy’s taste.
“We’re on last call,” an older man behind the bar announced as he and Connor stepped inside. “I’ll pour you two some drinks, but you’ll have to down ’em fast.”
“Thanks for the offer, but we’re not here for a drink,” Trey said, flashing his badge. “We’re looking for information on someone.” Taking the photo out, he placed it on the wooden bar. “Have you ever seen this guy around?”
The man behind the bar barely looked at the photo for more than a second before nodding. “Yeah, I know Alden. All the regulars do.” He motioned to several other people sitting at the bar. “Comes in every weekend like clockwork. Sometimes during the week, too. I haven’t seen him in a while, though.”
“That’s because he was murdered two weeks ago,” Trey said.
“Murdered?” The older man looked devastated at the news. “Damn.”
“We’re trying to pin down the last place he was seen that weekend. Do you remember if he came in here?”
The bartender nodded sadly. “Yeah, he was in here both Saturday and Sunday night. He came in around this time both nights.”
“Did you see if he left with anyone?” Connor asked.
“I saw him with a woman Sunday night,” a man at the end of the bar said. “She was tall with shoulder-length dark hair. I remember thinking she was definitely Alden’s type.”
Trey opened his mouth to ask the guy if he’d be able to describe her to a sketch artist when a woman’s voice interrupted him. “I know the person you’re talking about.”
Trey turned to see a petite redhead standing there holding a drink tray full of empty glasses and beer bottles. “She was in here earlier tonight. She left a little while ago with some guy.”
Trey exchanged looks with Connor.
“Do you remember what she was wearing?” his pack mate asked.
The waitress nodded. “A short skirt and red silk blouse.”
“When did they leave?” Trey asked.
She shrugged. “Fifteen minutes ago, maybe.”
Thirty seconds later, Trey was running south on Saint Paul Street, his nose going at a hundred miles an hour as he tried to pick up a scent that might lead him to the woman and the man she’d left the bar with. Unfortunately, the waitress hadn’t seen which direction the couple had gone. He and Connor concluded she wouldn’t have taken her prey toward the crowds of people still hanging around outside the other clubs in the area, so they’d headed farther down Pacific, praying for a little luck.
A hundred yards later, they split up, Connor continuing along Pacific, while Trey turned down Saint Paul. It was a desperate gamble. There were a hundred different places the woman could have taken her victim if she were planning to kill him—or lure him into someone else’s trap. Trey only hoped their theory was right and that she’d try to murder the guy somewhere close to the bar where she’d picked him up. If the guy had gotten into a car with her, there’d be no chance of ever finding them. At least not while the man was still alive.
When Trey reached the green spaces of Main Street Garden Park, his instincts had him slowing down and turning that way. He had no idea why, but it felt right.
The park filled a whole block between Main and Commerce, most of that being wide-open grassy areas with a few walking paths here and there and a big fountain in the front. The trees and light shrubs growing along the north side—along with the large construction dumpster near the far northeast corner—caught his attention.
He’d barely taken more than a step in that direction when he heard a sound halfway between a groan of agonizing pain and a gasp of pleasure that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Pulling his off-duty SIG, he sprinted in that direction.
Trey picked up an overly sweet odor mixed with a hint of something old and dried out underneath it. The smell made his nose tingle, like dust in the air. He was still trying to imagine what kind of creature could possibly possess such a scent when he rounded the corner of the dumpster.
Despite the glow coming from the streetlamps and nearby buildings, it was still dark behind the dumpster thanks to the shadows cast by the trees. Trey’s night vision was near perfect even without having to partially shift. But when he saw the tall, slender woman in a red silk blouse and miniskirt holding the large, struggling man against the side of the dumpster with one hand, he couldn’t comprehend how someone her size was able to manage it. The man’s shirt had been ripped open and his pants were undone and hanging loose. That strange groan of pleasure and pain came again, and Trey realized the woman had her lips planted firmly against the guy’s chest.
Thinking he was on the verge of stepping into the middle of a kinky sex scene, Trey started to back out of the situation as fast as he’d arrived, but then he saw the man’s face twist in torment, his skin shriveling right before his eyes. Like every ounce of youth and vitality was being sucked out of him.
