"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.
Rosehall?
Savannah blinked, though she wasn't sure why she was surprised at how much her sister knew. After all, Neva had always been the stronger of the two of them when it came to telepathy. Just how much have you been reading my mind of late?
Neva's laughter swam through her mind, as warm as summer sunshine. Not much. Certainly not when it started getting interesting.
Just as well, or I'd have to warn the pups their mom is a perv.
Neva's amusement deepened momentarily, and then fell away. What about Mom and Dad?
Savannah blew out a mental breath. I haven't warned them yet.
You've been avoiding it.
Yes. Although she wasn't ashamed of her actions at Rosehall, her dad would be. And as contradictory as it was, especially since she'd gone to Rosehall in rebellion against her dad's rules, she didn't want to lose his respect. Rosehall was a long time ago, and the rebellion that had driven her there had long ago died.
Hadn't it?
I'll talk to them later tonight, she continued, trying to ignore the thought that maybe the problems she'd had with her father were no deader than the wildness. That like the wildness, they'd merely been buried. It might be wise for them to get out of town for a while.
Dad's never going to do that willingly.
Whatever his faults, he loves Mom. He'll do it for her.
I hope you're taking similar precautions with your own safety.
Ronan's looking into it.
That man is such a gem.
And one she loved, but not in the way he deserved to be loved. He was right in seeking an ending now. The simple truth was they were both using the other as a crutch, finding shelter in the safety of each other's arms rather than going out and facing life again. She was going to miss that particular closeness with him, there was no doubt about it, and yet part of her rejoiced.
Maybe, after ten long years, she was finally ready to face love again.
But was she, for all her tough words, ready to face up to Cade and everything he'd done—and everything she'd done? Because there was no doubt she had to do both of those if she wanted to move past the hurt.
But moving past him was the one stumbling point.
Could she really do it? Move past all he'd meant to her and just get on with her life?
She didn't know. But maybe it was time to at least try. If Cade's arrival had shown her one thing, it was the fact that she could no longer drift along in life. She was content in her working life, but she wanted the whole enchilada.
She wanted what Neva now had.
A man who loved her. A man who would go to his grave loving her. A man who she could share the ups and downs of life with, have children with.
But are you ready to fight for all that? Neva asked softly. Like you forced me to fight for it?
Savannah frowned. What do you mean?
You once loved Cade—perhaps you still do. What if the reason you haven't moved on is the fact that your heart doesn't want to? What if Cade is the one?
He doesn't love me, Neva. He never did. I was just an interesting means to an end.
That's not what I asked.
No. She paused. And I guess the answer is, I don't know.
Then you'd better start deciding before he walks out of your life a second time.
He didn't walk out on me the first time.
You know what I mean.
Yes. And she hated it when her sister was right. Neva's amusement swam through her mind again, and Savannah smiled reluctantly. Gotta go do some work. I'll talk to you tomorrow.
After you talk to Mom and Dad.
Duncan's right. Marriage has turned you into a nag. Savannah broke the connection between them in the midst of her twin's laughter and strode towards the front steps, although, after ten years of not wearing five-inch spike heels, it took a lot of concentration not to fall flat on her face.
The heels tapped against the concrete as she climbed the steps, a soft tattoo of sound that seemed to carry easily over the thump of the music. The security guard near the door leisurely looked her up and down, and a wide grin split his lips.
"Ain't seen you here before, darling,” he said, his voice as deep as his gaze was appreciative.
A warm flush of s
atisfaction swept through her. In that moment, she felt both extremely feminine and utterly sexual, neither of which she'd felt since leaving Rosehall.
And that made her angry—at herself, more than anything. Damn it, she was a woman, a sexual, sensual woman, and she occasionally deserved to be the object of complete and unreserved lust. Yet that was something the ranger part of her never had been, not in all the long years she'd been back in Ripple Creek. And it was a sad indictment of how badly she'd been burned by Cade that she'd let such a vital part of her be buried for so long.
Still, it was better late than never. And if Kel's brother didn't recognize her in this outfit—an outfit Nelle had once labeled “the erotic bikie"—no one would. Hell, she'd gone to school with Tane, had actually had a major crush on him between the years or nine and ten, and she had kissed him more than once in year eleven. A flirt? Oh yeah, she had been one back then, as Ronan could attest.
With a grin tugging her lips, she exaggerated the swing of her hips and sashayed towards Tane. The chains dangling from her skirt chimed in time with the rap of her stilettos, and the cool breeze caressed the parts of her bare legs and stomach not covered by her long leather coat. Given how little she was really wearing, she should have been freezing. She wasn't. The exhilaration of strutting her stuff in front of an appreciative audience was more than enough to keep her warm.
"And you may not see me again,” she purred as she neared him. “So enjoy the experience while you can."
"Oh, I am.” He chuckled softly and doffed his hat to her as he opened the door. “Enjoy your night, miss."
"Clara,” she said. “And thank you."
He nodded, his gaze lingering, causing a heat she could feel way down to her toes as she walked into the semidarkness of the nightclub. If she'd been a cat, she would have started purring. Even though there was only one man she wanted, that didn't stop her enjoying the attention of—she stopped the thought short. Cade was the only man she could have right now, but he certainly wasn't the only man she wanted.
Because he didn't want what she wanted.
But what if he did?
She pushed the thought from her mind. Why entertain the idea when it was never going to happen?
She walked across to the cashier, paid her entrance fee and handed in her coat. Then she moved to the shadow-filled corner between the cashier and the long, black steel and chrome bar that dominated the left side of the big room. The air was thick with the aroma of desire, sending an ache of anticipation through her limbs. She wondered if Cade was here yet. Wondered if she'd recognize him—or if he'd recognize her.
The heavy beat of the music was louder inside, and when combined with the frantic pulsing of the multicolored lighting, it had an almost hypnotic effect. She found herself tapping her foot despite the fact she normally hated techno.
There was a good crowd tonight. The dance floor was packed, and they were standing three deep at the bar. She saw several people she recognized, and a few teenagers who certainly didn't meet the eighteen-year-old entry requirement. Still, given her own experiences with the moon and desire, she wasn't going to make a fuss about it. Especially not tonight.
At the end of the long room were the heavy, paneled doors that led into the moon dance room. Two security guards were stationed there, and she knew their job was to check ID's and ensure no alcohol was taken into the smaller dance room. She also knew that the ID check wasn't as well enforced as her father would have wanted.
She looked upstairs, checking the balcony that ran around the room. Shadows moved in the darkness above, some obviously doing more than dancing to the techno beat. Others leaned on the railing, either catching the action in the shadows, or watching those on the dance floor. She couldn't see Denny upstairs, so maybe he was among the gyrating mass on the dance floor.
She walked down the steps and along the bar side of the room. At this level, so close to the moving mass of men and women, the air seemed so warm it was like breathing in liquid heat, and the musk of desire was so sharp that it the fueled the fires of her own need.
Yet she couldn't sate those needs, not even when she found Cade. They were here to catch the woman who'd paid Denny to leave the note, nothing more.
She found Denny at the back of the room, to the right of the entrance to the moon room. He was dancing with a spike-haired wolf who seemed to have more piercings than Savannah had toes and fingers, and who looked at least ten years older than Denny. Like most of the dancers, they seemed totally involved with the music, their bodies moving in sync with the frantic rhythm rather than each other. She continued on, trying to find Cade, but she didn't see anyone vaguely resembling him on this level. She turned around and headed for the nearby stairs. It would be easier to keep an eye on Denny from above, and she might be able to spot Cade from there, too.
The shadows closed in around her as she climbed, and the air became so cloying tiny beads of perspiration broke out across her skin. She grabbed a coaster off a nearby empty table and lightly fanned herself. Her scalp itched, and it was all she could do not to rip off the short, black wig. She leaned a hip against the balustrade and scanned the immediate shadows. Couples sat at the various tables or were pressed against the walls, talking and drinking and loving. None of the women were blonde or big breasted, and none of the men matched Cade's height or build.
Relief rolled through her. If she was honest, she had no more desire to share him with others than he had to share her, which was odd, because she'd had no such concerns in Rosehall. But then, he never did dance with anyone else. Only her. She'd been the one dancing with others—at least until they'd made the moon promise. Even then, she'd still danced with Jontee. Which Cade had wanted, because all he had wanted was Jontee. Not her.
And certainly not a declaration of love.
Hell, he couldn't even remember her saying it, though she could easily guess why. He'd been too busy getting ready to invade her mind.
She blew out a breath, lifting the silky black hair away from her forehead. Glancing down to check that Denny was still dancing, she pushed away from the balustrade and moved along the walkway.
A big man walked towards her, his red hair catching the flicker of the lights and gleaming like fire in the shadows. She let her gaze drift down, taking in the gleam of his silver eyes as he scanned the shadows, the oh-so-kissable lushness of his mouth, the way his leather jacket emphasized the width of his shoulders and the strength of his arms, while his faded jeans paid homage to the long, lean strength of his legs. He moved with such effortless grace that he could have been walking on air...
She blinked.
He walked like Cade.
Her gaze shot upwards. Aside from the gray eyes, it was Cade's face. The bruise darkening his chin was evidence of that, if nothing else.
A smile tugged at her lips. Would he recognize her? There was only one way to find out. She strolled towards him, accentuating the swing of her hips, watching his expression, waiting for the moment of awareness. His gaze briefly scanned her and moved on. Then he did a double take, and a grin split his lips.
"Well, well,” he said, stopping so close the heat of his body ran over her in a wave, leaving her sweating and wet with desire. He wrapped a hand around her waist and drew her closer still. “Don't you look luscious."
"So do you,” she purred, running her hands down his leather-clad arms and enjoying the press of his hard body against hers. “And I do like the contacts. Always did fancy a man with silver eyes.” Not to mention leather. Too bad he was wearing jeans. As much as he looked good in them, just the thought of leather pants got her pulse running. There was something very sensual about running a hand over a leather-clad butt.
The muscles under her fingertips tightened so suddenly that it felt as if she were caressing steel. She glanced up in time to see the amusement fade from his expression.
"You found Denny yet?"
His voice was clipped with annoyance, and she frowned, wondering what his problem was. “He's
downstairs, dancing with a spike-haired wolf.” She hesitated, then added, “Why the attitude?"
"We'd better find someplace to watch him from."
She nodded toward the balustrade. “We can do it from there."
His hand slid from her waist to her arm, and his grip was a little too tight as he propelled her forward. “Let's get over there and watch, then."
She ripped her arm from his grip and stopped. “I asked you a question. Answer it first."
He continued on to the balustrade. “How many wolves do you know with silver eyes?"
She stared at his back, more than a little perplexed. “What?"
"So you weren't thinking about Ronan when you made that comment?” he threw back at her.
She laughed. She couldn't help it. He was jealous. Had to be. Why else would he make a comment like that? “Ronan was the last wolf on my mind, believe me."
He gave her a withering look. “We're here to work. Let's concentrate on that."
"I'd much rather talk about your reaction."
A grunt was her only reply, and that made her more than a touch annoyed. How was she supposed to interpret something like that? God, for a man who was so damn willing to throw opinions around, he was mighty close-mouthed when it came to anything remotely personal.
She leaned on the railing beside him, close enough that the heat of his body caressed her skin, yet not close enough that they touched, which was a totally inadequate situation. They might not be able to make love, but that didn't prevent all contact. Hell, there was more to making love than just the physical act ... She grimaced. Hadn't she wanted it to be just about the physical act?
Despite her earlier resolution, despite the doubts she'd expressed to her sister only moments before, she really wasn't sure what she wanted anymore. Even when she wasn't with Cade, he filled her thoughts. But wasn't that a natural consequence of the way they'd ended their relationship and what still lay unresolved between them?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Like Neva had noted, maybe she still cared for him more than she wanted to admit. But was she willing to risk the hurt, the complete and utter devastation, of realizing he didn't love her a second time? Especially since his actions so far certainly indicated he was enamored with nothing more than the power of their lovemaking.