Because, thanks to the dreams he'd witnessed so often, he knew a little about Rosehall. He would have recognized the intent behind the words carved into the victim's back—would know those words had been aimed at her.
She picked up her coffee, meeting his gaze squarely and watching him move through the tables. Ari caught him halfway, flirting more outrageously than she usually did. Ari had had the hots for Ronan for as long as Savannah could remember, but as far as she knew, he'd never returned the interest.
He dragged out a chair and sat down opposite her. “So,” he said simply. “Explain."
She did—briefly.
"And Cade?” he asked.
"Became sexually involved with me to get close to Jontee, and stop him."
"So you were one of this Jontee's lovers?"
"I was Sunday and Wednesday.” She grimaced. Though she hated the fact that she'd been involved with a killer, she couldn't actually regret the rest of her Rosehall experiences. If nothing else, it had been a wild and amazing ride. “Cade was under the impression that as one of Jontee's lovers, I had to know something about the murders. I didn't.” Something she'd told him over and over, but he'd never believed her. Never trusted her.
"And the murders here?"
"Suggest that someone from that time didn't take too kindly to his part in bringing Rosehall to an end."
"And perhaps your part in it?"
"Perhaps."
He studied her for a minute, his expression caring and his gray eyes concerned. “And this Cade? What does his presence here mean?"
She knew he meant on a personal level rather than a professional one. She sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. “We made a promise to the moon at Rosehall. That promise still holds.” Her gaze caught his over the rim of her cup. “For the next five nights."
He gave her a sweet half-smile. “I figured something was going on between you two.” He reached across the table and lightly pressed his fingertips against her hand. A brief but tender touch, and all they dared here in public. “He hurt you once. Don't let him do it again."
She smiled, wishing she could just lean across the table and kiss him. Wished she was free to love him as he deserved to be loved.
He leaned back in the chair, creating space between them once again for the sake of those who were undoubtedly watching.
"If this madman is planning to come after you, you may need protection."
"What I need is to catch this person before they can kill again."
He nodded. “Still, I think I'll start looking at security precautions for your apartment, just in case."
"Fine.” He'd do it anyway, even if she said don't bother.
He rose. “You know my number if you need me."
She smiled and nodded, watching him walk out the door. Why couldn't fate allow her to fall for someone like Ronan? Someone who had more caring and tenderness in his little finger than Cade had in his entire body? It wasn't fair. But then, who said life had to be fair?
She glanced at her watch and grimaced. Time to go to her lodge and get ready to meet the man she couldn't quite hate.
* * * *
There were two bars in Ripple Creek, and Cade was surprised to discover that the murders were discussed in neither. Somehow, the rangers had kept a lid on the news, even though towns like this usually thrived on gossip.
He finished his beer, taking his time as his gaze scanned the semi-crowded room and his foot tapped to the thumping beat of music. Everyone here in the Blue Moon seemed to be out for nothing more than a good time, either chatting in large groups or squeezing onto the already crowded dance floor. Besides himself, there didn't appear to be any loners, or even anyone his cop senses would have labeled suspicious. But then, in all his years as an IIS officer, he'd never had a suspect who actually looked suspicious. They'd always been average Joe or family man types. Someone who didn't beg more than a cursory look.
Whether the same pattern would be followed here in Ripple Creek was anyone's guess, but events so far suggested they would. And he honestly couldn't be sorry about that. As much as he wanted this case solved before anyone else got killed, he was willing to spend more time in Vannah's arms. If they'd been well matched anywhere, it had been in the sack—and he had five nights of the moon promise owed to him.
He placed his empty glass on the table and rose, nodding a good night to the cheerful female bartender as he strolled outside.
Under the cold light of the barely-there moon, the heat in his veins seemed to sharpen until his whole body ached with the fierceness of desire. He glanced at his watch and cursed softly when he saw it was only eleven. He was tempted, very tempted, to call her and demand that she come meet him now, because he needed her so very badly. He could do it. The moon gave the male that power.