"But,” Trista continued, “surely if Oliver had been involved with the group, it would have come out sometime during the trial and appeals. It would have tarnished the authenticity of the evidence, if nothing else."
"I'm not casting doubts on Oliver or his part of the investigation—I just want to double check, that's all."
"Because you have an itch,” Anton said.
"And in the past,” Trista muttered, “those itches have proven amazingly accurate. You realize that this will put the cat amongst the birds. Oliver has a lot of friends in the department."
"I'm just asking for a check, nothing more. I don't expect to find anything.” He glanced at his watch. “I'd better get going. Buzz me if anything urgent comes up."
"Enjoy the club,” Trista said, voice dry.
He glanced at her. “It's work."
"I'm sure it is,” she said, and shoved the pizza in her mouth. Unfortunately, it didn't quite hide her grin.
"Behave, Trista. We're here to do a job."
"I'm not the one you have to remind this time,” she said.
Obviously, he hadn't been as discreet about his desire for Savannah as he'd presumed. Knowing that saying anything else would only deepen the mire—and Trista's amusement—he simply turned and walked out of the room.
Snow had begun falling during his brief time indoors, and it coated the road with a slushy mix that quickly froze under the night's chill. He hesitated, glancing at the car, knowing that if the weather continued like this, the roads would quickly become as icy as a rink and almost undrivable. At least it would for those who, like him, didn't have chains in their cars. Anton's four-wheel drive would undoubtedly cope, though driving any of their cars would blow his cover to anyone who happened to be watching for his appearance at the club. He glanced at his watch. He still had forty-five minutes before he had to be there. And even though the night was freezing, he felt the sudden need to run, to stretch his legs and feel the chill ruffling his coat as the snow drifted past his nose.
He glanced at the sky a final time, and then he shifted shape and loped towards the main street.
* * * *
The base-heavy thump of music rode the night, and the smell of sweat and lust mingled freely in the air, stirring Savannah's memories as much as her senses.
Rosehall had smelled like this.
Like the freedom to be yourself, to follow your desires, without having to worry about the consequences of your actions on others.
In her teenage years, there'd been few places where a young wolf hungry with moon fever could go other than the dances at the Sinclair mansion. And as much as she'd wanted to rebel against her father's strictness, she hadn't wanted to ruin his standing in the community—though how attending a Sinclair moon dance would do that was something she'd never understood.
When she'd heard of Rosehall, it had seemed an ideal way to satisfy her deeper hungers without having to worry about her dad's rep—or his anger. And it had been a perfectly magical, wonderfully liberating experience—at least until Cade had come along and teased her with possibilities that could never be.
She shivered as she shifted back to human shape in the shadows leading up to the nightclub's front entrance. But it wasn't the chill of the night that had caused the shiver, but rather the direction of her thoughts. Why couldn't she stop thinking about the man, and all that had gone on in the past? Why did she have to keep flogging herself with the pain of dreams long gone by? God, he'd proven earlier tonight, by words and by deed, that he cared for nothing more than his own needs. Why couldn't she let it all go and just enjoy the moment?
Because the heart is a funny creature, Neva's voice whispered into her mind. And often a stubborn one. Part of you loves him still, Sav.
No, it loves the idea of love. It loves something that was little more than a shadow and a lie.
Neva's doubts swam through Savannah's thoughts, but all she actually said was, You need to talk to him.
I know, but right now I'm a little busy trying to catch a murderer. She paused. You and Duncan safely ensconced in the mansion?
And a breezy goddamn hole it is in this weather, too. Duncan's had to set roaring fires in both the fireplaces in his rooms just to warm my toes.
I'm surprised the randy bugger didn't drag you to bed and warm you up with some loving.
Oh, he did that, too. Neva's mindvoice was filled with amusement. But as good as we are together, sex can only last so long. Especially when the kids start protesting with kicks. How long am I expected to stay here?
Until we catch our killer.
And why is this killer coming after you?
Revenge for something he thinks I've done.