Neva's heart leapt in her chest, but she hid her relief as she looked over her shoulder. Duncan was standing at the top of the stairs, a towel wrapped around his hips, his skin gleaming and as wet as hers. The smile that touched his lips curled her toes, and though the shutters were up in his eyes, she could feel his amusement. And his anger — at Betise, not her.
Betise all but glared at him. "I thought you might like to know about an interesting conversation I overheard at the Blue Moon."
Neva shared a glance with Duncan. Has Betise really been at the Blue Moon? And if so, why there rather than the dance?
It'll be easy enough to check, Duncan said. The Blue Moon has lots of security cameras. I'll get Rai to check them.
And here I was thinking the 'good friend' you mentioned was male. I really should have known better. Her mental tone sounded as catty as her words, but she just couldn't help it.
She's married.
That didn't stop you in Denver.
He didn't answer. He didn't need to, when his anger damn near sizzled her mind. His gaze went past her. "What did you overhear?"
Betise stepped inside. "One person, male, talking on a cell phone. About René."
He crossed his arms, his eyes little more than black slits. "Are you going to spit it all out, or do I have to come down and shake the rest of it out?"
The suppressed hostility in his voice left Neva in no doubt he'd do it. The sudden flash of uncertainty she got from Betise suggested she had no doubt either — and yet that uncertainty was mixed with an animosity that matched Duncan's. What was going on? None of the emotions she was catching from Betise made any real sense. On the one hand, there was love and a deep belief in destiny. On the other, a far-reaching anger. And while she knew it was more than possible to feel both for the same person, there seemed to be something else here, as well. Something that left a bad taste in Neva's mouth.
"He was talking about going after your brother," Betise said coldly. "Tonight, while the dance was on."
Duncan didn't react in any noticeable way. Nor did he move. "Did you see this man?"
"No."
"Would you recognize his voice if you heard it again?"
Betise hesitated. "Probably."
"Did he say when or how?"
"No."
The phone rang shrilly. Neva jumped, then glanced up at Duncan.
"Answer it," he said, voice clipped.
She did. "Neva Grant speaking."
"May I speak to Duncan, please?"
The voice was cultured and rich and reminded her very much of an older version of Duncan. She glanced up at him. "For you."
His gaze went to Betise for a second, then he walked down the stairs and took the phone from her hands. Neva rubbed her arms, but it didn't ease the goose bumps fleeing across her skin.
Duncan listened to the caller for several seconds, his expression never changing, then put the phone down. But his black eyes gleamed with fury as his gaze met hers. "That was my father. René's been shot."
Chapter Thirteen
Duncan took a deep breath, trying to control the anger pounding through his veins. The need to protect the pack and all its members was a natural instinct to a wolf — and something he'd failed to do.
Neva placed a hand against his arm, her fingers warm against his skin. He shook off her touch and spun around, ignoring the flash of her hurt as he stalked towards Betise.
Though her eyes widened slightly, the smell of her anticipation and desire spun through the air. He wrapped his fingers around her neck, resisting the urge to squeeze tight but holding her still none too gently.
"If I discover you have had anything to do with René being shot, I'll kill you."