to death. And though it was true that she could empathize, and invest in years of clinical-training work in order to try to help others, being affected by such a thing herself was a different ball game.
Cops had always been her heroes. Had those two guys been undercover? Maybe she’d see them tomorrow at the precinct and get a better look at them.
She rubbed her temples with cool fingers and sat back, aware of a growing ache in the spot on the back of her head where it had struck the brick. Her fingers drifted to the cheek her rescuer had touched. She remembered it all as if it had been etched on her brain.
What she couldn’t do was break through the fog that blurred out several minutes of the ordeal. The moments when she had actually started to believe that the man whose lips had rested on her cheek might actually have possessed some sort of superhuman powers.
All that warm, rippling muscle...
The long hair...
His incredibly handsome face...
Riley clapped a hand over her mouth. What had she said to him in place of a proper thank-you? Had she actually mentioned werewolves? Maybe it was insanity he’d searched for in her eyes.
Well, it was over, and here she was, snug in her office, where street noise was blocked by dual-paned windows and howling wolves had no place among the credentials and diplomas framed on her wall.
She would not go back out there, that was for sure. Possibly she’d spend the night here on the couch and go home in the morning for a shower and clean clothes.
Relieved to have made up her mind, Riley stood up and walked to the window that offered her a good view of the street for half a block or more in two directions. Traffic was light at the moment. Signals on the corners flashed red, yellow and green. All of this was normal. The problem here was that she wasn’t.
After shaking her head to clear her mind of the notion that if she looked hard enough and long enough she’d find her rather wolfish rescuer or others like him out there, Riley continued to search. When she closed her eyes, she could see him. She could again find the light-colored eyes that had seemed to see deep into her soul. She felt him beside her, leaning in.
With her eyes open, the only thing she experienced was the sense of her own mortality and a reminder of how closely she had managed to escape.
The glass was cool when she rested her forehead against the window. “Thank you,” she said aloud to the nameless man whose face she would always remember. “And if it turns out that there are such things as werewolves, you’d be a perfect specimen. Just so you know.”
She headed for the bookcase and the decanter of amber liquid she had hoped to reserve for special occasions in the future, but was necessary now.
She poured some in a glass and swirled the contents. Never having been a fan of alcohol, she held her breath as the glass touched her lips, and then felt the burn of the whiskey as it trickled down her throat.
Carrying the glass with her, she moved back to the window feeling slightly better, thinking she’d be able to handle the rest of the night like a pro. After all, she was a pro. Those framed credentials said so. And besides, everyone she had treated so far in her short time in this office had seemed comfortable on her couch. She’d make do with it tonight in lieu of going back out to the street.
Just in case things weren’t as safe out there as they seemed.
His pack was a formidable bunch. Most of them were around his own ripe old age of thirty-two in human years. A few were slightly younger. The older Weres tended to hang out in areas beyond the city proper, and patrolled no less vigorously than their younger counterparts.
Having seen plenty of action already, they all helped to foster the kind of enthusiasm every Were needed for handling the things that hid in the shadows. Every good-guy Were had a place and a job. The pack was a second family to most of them. For some, it was their only home. For Derek, who had lost his family to a vampire attack in Europe fifteen years ago, the pack was a real comfort.
They met for the meeting two streets over from the precinct, in a private room in the back of a restaurant whose owners liked having cops around. Four Weres were in uniform, the rest weren’t. The rule was to behave in public, get their orders and dish out their own version of justice to fanged troublemakers.
Because there had been vamp activity tonight already, the plan was to comb the streets and alleys within a quarter-mile perimeter of the incidents. Energy levels were particularly high tonight as the Weres dispersed. Even Weres under a full moon had to remain alert to the danger those vamps presented.
Dale led the charge so that Derek could stop by the precinct for a look at the interesting woman’s attacker. In honor of that visit, he had put on a T-shirt and leather jacket, and thought he looked almost completely human.
Alone again, he stood on the sidewalk, beneath the overhang, silently contemplating where his senses were urging him to go...though he could have predicted where that was. In his estimation, another little detour was warranted. A quick in-and-out, and then he’d get on with the plan.
That’s what Derek told himself, anyway, as he tilted his head back and called up the fragrance that seemed to have coated his lungs. Her fragrance. That woman’s.
He sent his senses outward to locate the trail of that one unforgettable scent among so many others, and walked west, then east, keeping well away from the moonlight until he found what he sought. Then, grinning like he had won the lottery, Derek whispered, “Got you,” and smiled.
The building he’d found was a nice one just steps off the main drag. Four stories’ worth of large windows overlooked the street. There was a revolving front door. Inside, his boots echoed loudly on the black-and-white marble tiles. The only hang-up was the security guard manning a reception desk not quite twenty feet in.
Derek showed him his badge. “I’m looking for a woman.”
The security guard smiled, his expression saying, Isn’t every guy in Seattle?
Derek continued. “I believe she would have come in not more than an hour ago. Tall, slender, blonde, in a black skirt.”
“May I ask what you might want with a woman of that description?” the guard asked.
“We’re missing a few things on the statement she gave us tonight about an incident. I’d like to clear that up.”
“And you didn’t get her name?”
Derek strengthened his tone. “I’d appreciate it if you could help me with that, silence being a possible obstruction of justice, and everything.”
Derek’s inner wolf was bristling over being repressed when there was a full moon. He could easily have yanked the guard over the desk and spoken to him nose-to-nose, but he refrained. The Seattle PD was trying to upgrade their image with the masses, and this guard was only doing his job.
“Name’s Price,” the guard finally said. “Third floor, three-ten.”
Derek nodded. “Miss Price is here now?”
“The after-hours policy is that she would have had to sign in and out. She hasn’t signed out.”
Derek nodded again. Though
