"No."
"Then that's your answer."
He studied her for a moment, then switched his gaze his Savannah. "Are you going to introduce us?"
She did. Savannah didn't offer him her hand, just turned her bandaged face in his direction. Imprinting his smell, Neva knew. Feeling his thoughts. She wondered if Sav would have more luck than she had.
No. Sav's mind voice sounded tired. But I like the smell of him.
So did Neva. His smell and his taste and his touch. She just didn't know if she liked the man.
"Why are you here, Sinclair?" Savannah asked, voice getting hoarser. "The dance is tonight. You have no right to the days as well."
"In this case, I do."
Moons, Neva, you didn't agree to a bonding, did you?
Afraid so. Seemed logical at the time.
And now?
I'm discovering I'm a little wilder in nature than I ever thought.
The warmth of Savannah's smile ran around her. That's something we all discover, sooner or later.
"Would you two mind keeping the conversation to conventional methods?" Duncan said. "Because there are several things we need to discuss."
"Like what?" Neva and Savannah said in unison.
A small smile touched his sensual lips and just as quickly fled. "Like why you believe the killer is one of the Sinclairs and not one of the dancers who join us."
"Considering how little help you Sinclairs have been to our investigations," Savannah bit back, "do you really think it's surprising we suspect one of you?"
"On what evidence? The fact that it's a big silver wolf?" Duncan snorted softly. "I can name half a dozen silvers in all the packs that match that description."
"But those same wolves don't have the ... shall we say zealous? ... reputation that the Sinclair pack have when it comes to the dance."
"In all the years the Sinclairs have run the moon dance, there's never been a death. Until now. It's not one of us."
"And, of course, I can trust the word of a felon," Savannah snapped.
He didn't react in any way. Not physically, nor emotionally. Maybe he'd been expecting such a reaction from Savannah, who was, after all, an officer of the law. "If you won't trust the word of a felon, then it's not much use me offering what I know, is it?" He glanced at Neva, obsidian eyes slightly narrowed. "You and I need to talk. I'll wait outside for you."
He walked from the room. Savannah puffed out a breath. "If that man looks half as sexy as he sounds, wow."
Wow seemed nowhere near adequate when it came to describing Duncan. He was a man with a wild past, a man with the face of an angel and a body designed to corrupt the virtuous. A man who could be both incredibly generous and utterly selfish when it came to lovemaking. But above all else, he was a man who held the world at a careful distance. She very much doubted if anyone actually knew the real Duncan Sinclair. Certainly not anyone here in Ripple Creek, anyway.
And maybe not even the man himself.
"You should talk to him about this case. I've got a feeling you're both on the same side on this one."
"I know. But we'll do it on my terms, not his." Savannah's voice was little more than a raw whisper.
Neva switched to telepathy. Bit hard to do it on your terms — or even your turf — when you're stuck here in the hospital.
I'll be out in a couple of days.
Your stitches won't even be out in a couple of days.