"They found scent trails near two of the three victims that led back into the mansion, and they've identified them as belonging to Kane and Tye."
"Considering they were the ones who found the bodies, that's logical. They undoubtedly found René's scent near the fourth victim, as well as mine."
And probably hers, though it had been well covered by the scent of jasmine. She'd have to remember to tell her sister who was responsible for that particular scent, otherwise the rangers might waste precious time chasing a dead end.
"They also found several hairs on the first and third victims."
He nodded. "From a silver coat."
"No. These were human."
"Really? It wasn't mentioned in the reports I read."
She gave him a long look. "I wouldn't be telling me something like that. Not unless you want it reported back to my sister."
He reached across the table, capturing her hand, turning it palm up. His thumb stroked her wrist, a gentle, almost possessive caress that sent shivers of desire skating across her already overheated skin. "You won't tell on me, will you?"
It wasn't a question, but an order. And the power that slipped between them ensured she'd obey. She tried wrenching her hand from his, but he held her tight.
"You could have just asked. You didn't have to use the moon bond."
"Didn't I?" The smile that touched his sensual lips was laconic. "Considering the lengths you've gone to track down your sister's attacker, I think I'll continue to play it safe."
"So, you're asking me to trust you, but you're not willing to offer the same?" Annoyance bit through her tone, and he smiled.
"If it came down to a choice, you'd take your sister's side every time."
He was still stroking her wrist, and it was beginning to do weird things to her breathing. "Naturally. She's family, and I love her."
"Exactly. While I — " he hesitated, his gaze seeming to deepen. "Mean absolutely nothing to you."
"As little as I do to you." But as her gaze got lost in the obsidian depths of his eyes, she had to wonder if either of them was telling the entire truth.
"And these hairs they found — are they matching or different?"
Right then, she didn't particularly care. His fingers had slipped up her arm and were caressing the inside of her elbow. It felt so damn good desire trembled through her. "Matching," she somehow managed to say.
"Black hair?"
His fingers slipped further up her arm, and the back of his hand brushed against her breast. Her ni**les ached to feel his touch, pressing almost painfully against the restrictions of her bra. She swallowed, and said, "I presume so. I only read the prelim reports."
"No chance of getting back into your sister's office and reading the rest?"
His touch retreated back down to her wrist, and she almost groaned in disappointment. "About as much chance as we have of this storm stopping by nightfall."
"Then ask your sister."
"My sister is still listed as critical. She won't be looking at anything for a while yet." Which wasn't exactly the truth. Knowing Savannah, by tomorrow morning she'd be demanding full reports on everything that had happened since she'd been attacked.
"And that's the only evidence the rangers have that's it a Sinclair?"
She raised an eyebrow. "You tell me. You seem to have had better access to the files than I did."
His sudden smile was warm and sexy and all too fleeting. "It's not much evidence to believe that it's one of us, is it?"
"Well, no, but who else could it be?"
He leaned back in his chair, the shutters well and truly in place. It made her uneasy, though why she had no idea. It wasn't as if she'd been able to read too much emotion in his expression anyway.