In Sheep's Clothing Page 2

  He glanced into her Jeep as he passed it. An inch of white snow covered the driver’s seat, and the black powder from the fingerprinting kit dusted the door handles.

  Not much hope there either. Emma had been certain her assailant had been wearing leather gloves.

  Yet she’d still managed to bite through the gloves hard enough that his blood had splashed all over her. Terror lent her strength.

  A hot ball of anger settled in his gut. Nathan looked away from the Jeep, staring blindly into the treeline. They were going to get the bastard this time. If the son of a bitch knew what was good for him, he’d walk into the sheriff’s office now and turn himself in.

  But Nathan hoped to God that when the time came, the bastard resisted arrest.

  Of course, they had to identify him first. With a sigh, he banged his fist against the roof of the Jeep, turned back to his vehicle. And froze.

  A wolf lay in front of his Blazer, like a dog stretched out before a fire, but twice the size of any dog Nathan had ever seen. He’d seen a wolf this large before, however; he’d killed a wolf this large after it had attacked Emma on a hiking trail.

  But this wolf wasn’t snarling, hackles raised and fangs bared. Its thick, dark fur lay flat over its back; its head was raised, amber eyes watching him steadily, pointed ears pricked forwards.

  He rested his hand on his weapon, but didn’t draw it. Not yet. He edged to the side, began making a wide arc that would take him to his vehicle without directly approaching the wolf. He stopped when the wolf cocked its head, rose to its feet and trotted towards the Jeep.

  It sniffed at the snow by the flat tyre, then began to work its way back. Scenting the blood, Nathan assumed. The tension began to leave his shoulders, and he watched as it began to dig through the small drift that had piled beside the rear tyre.

  Then it turned, looked at him and sat. When Nathan only stared back, the wolf made a chuffing sound, pushed its long nose back into the drift, and nudged.

  Something small and black rolled out of the drift, leaving -Nathan realized with a strange, swooping sensation in his stomach - specks of pink ice in its wake.

  The wolf backed up a few yards, then sat again.

  Slowly, Nathan approached the Jeep. He kept his gaze on the wolf, then dared a glance at the object on the ground.

  His stomach did another swoop, and for a second he thought his head was going to go with it. He crouched, sitting on his heels, waiting for the light-headedness to pass.

  It was a thumb, still inside the leather of the glove.

  He had a fingerprint. Holy shit. Disbelieving, he took off his hat, pushed his hand through his hair. He looked up at the wolf.

  “What the hell are you?”

  Its mouth stretched into what Nathan would have sworn was a grin. For an instant, he remembered Emma in Miss Letty’s kitchen, joking about becoming a werewolf.

  God. Was he actually entertaining the idea that this wolf was a human? That it was Emma?

  He was obviously lacking sleep or caffeine. Shaking the ridiculous thought from his head, Nathan stood. The wolf trotted past him, its shoulder brushing his leg.

  He watched it break into a lope down the highway, and turned back to the thumb on the ground. He could think about the wolf later. Now, he had a job to do.

  Fifteen minutes later, Nathan slammed on his brakes when the wolf appeared on the highway shoulder. The Blazer fishtailed before the chains caught and gave him traction. It took a long time for his heart to stop pounding.

  He climbed out of the truck, pointed at the wolf. “Do you know how dumb that was?”

  Probably not any less dumb than talking to an animal. And definitely not as stupid as feeling chastised when it gave him a look, then trotted a few yards up the highway.

  To a logging road. It sniffed at the snow, moved further off the highway, then looked back at Nathan expectantly.

  “You’re kidding me,” he said.

  The wolf shook its head. Answering him.

  And there went reality. Nathan trudged forwards. “No jury is going to buy this story.”

  Emma was still half-asleep when she heard Nathan come home. She turned, buried her face in her pillow, and listened to Letty ask him about the investigation, the status of the Jeep, and whether he preferred rolls or biscuits with the beef stew she was making. Then she sent him from the kitchen with an instruction to wake the princess who’d slept the day away.

  The princess thought she deserved all the sleep she’d had. Emma had run more than thirty miles that morning. After she’d left Nathan by the highway, she’d searched through a quarter of the town, trying to track down the murderer by scent.

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t found any sign of him.

  Nathan didn’t knock. She held her breath as he came inside the room, locked the door and moved to the bed. He pulled off his boots and slipped in next to her, drew her back tight against his chest.

  “You’re awake,” he said, his voice low in her ear.

  She nodded, fighting the sudden need that was tearing through her, the growl that came with it.

  “We got closer to him today.” Nathan shifted slightly, snuck his arm beneath her ribs, and hugged her to him. “We found where he pulled off the highway and waited, got the imprint from a tyre track. We even got a fingerprint, sent it in to the state lab. Hopefully they’ll come up with a match. Any guy with a missing thumb is going to have some explaining to do.”

  Emma forced the need away, found her voice. “It won’t be missing for long. It’ll grow back. And that story will be a lot harder to sell to a jury than the one you have for this morning.”

  The silence that fell was heavy, painful. Nathan didn’t move. She couldn’t see him, had no idea what he was thinking. But at least he didn’t let her go.

  Finally, he pulled her closer. His jaw, rough with a day’s growth of beard, scratched lightly over her cheek. “This morning I thought I was having some kind of spiritual experience. The kind people have a few weeks before they play naked chicken with a train. So if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, it’s a lot less worrying than believing I’ve gone crazy.”

  Emma could only nod again, her relief a shuddery ache in her chest.

  But Nathan didn’t let her off the hook. “If you’re saying it, Emma, then say it.”

  She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. “It was me. This morning, the wolf you saw was me. I showed you which logging road he drove down, and I dug his thumb out of the snow.”

  “Christ.” He muffled a laugh against her neck. “You’ve got one hell of a bite.”

  “Yes. But it also means that he’s going to become what I am. Just like I changed after I was bitten by that wolf five years ago.”

  His fingers drifted over the unblemished skin at her temple. “You do heal fast. Does it hurt now when I touch you here?”

  “No.” She caught his hand. “It would only hurt if you didn’t touch me.”

  “There’s no chance of that.” His lips ghosted over her ear, her jaw, then her fingers, where she held his hand against her neck. His other arm tightened around her waist. “This is why, five years ago, you didn’t come back.”

  “I was afraid,” she admitted.

  “General fear, or are there specifics I should know about?”

  “There were specifics. I’d lose whole chunks of time, wake up outside. And it was harder to fight myself when I wanted something.” Like Nathan. “And I didn’t want to accidentally hurt anyone.”

  “But now?”

  “I learned to control it better. And the more I let it - the wolf - out, the more control I have when I’m human.” Unable to help herself, she arched a little, rubbed her bottom against him, then choked out an embarrassed laugh. “But my control still isn’t perfect.”

  His hand moved down to her hip, stroked the length of her thigh. “That isn’t exactly a turn-off.”

  From the evidence blatantly present, she’d already realized that. Emma let go of his han
d, twisted her fingers in the sheets. She didn’t have much practice at controlling arousal, but her nails didn’t rip the cotton, thank God. Her hips worked back against him and she panted, “We can’t.”

  Nathan stilled. “Now, or ever?”

  “Now. I hear Aunt Letty coming up the stairs.”

  He groaned against her neck. Emma laughed, but it was cut short when he rolled her over and fastened his lips to hers.

  Oh, God, he tasted so good. Smelled so good. Felt so good. She pushed her fingers into his hair, opened her mouth to the slick heat of his tongue. His hips pushed between her thighs and he rocked forwards once, twice; her breath caught on each movement, her body aching for completion.

  But it wouldn’t be now. With a growl that sounded as feral as hers, Nathan lifted himself away, and pushed off the bed. He stood in his khaki uniform pants and shirt, his hair dishevelled, his breathing ragged and heavy. Not even a werewolf and he had to fight himself as hard as she did.

  Warmth swept through her, curved her lips. “Sheriff Studly.” She turned onto her side, propped herself up on her elbow. “That does have a better ring to it than Deputy Studly.”

  A teasing nickname she’d given him her first summer here, when they’d met and had an instant, strong connection with each other. But at sixteen, she had been too young for anything except a platonic relationship with a man just out of college. No wonder they’d fallen into the “we’re just friends” rut: both of them afraid to change and risk the friendship they’d formed that first year. And both of them longing for that change.

  And they’d both gotten change in a big way.

  Nathan dragged a hand over his face, finally looking away from her. “You knew to call me that last night. Letty told you about the election?”

  “I kept up on the news here.”

  “Well, what they didn’t mention was that most people voted me in on name recognition. They saw ‘Forrester’ and checked the ballot, forgetting that my dad was heading off to Arizona to retire, so they were actually getting Junior.” His smile became wry. “The past eighteen months haven’t been such a fine addition to his legacy, have they?”

  Emma sat up. “What does that mean?”

  “It means there are four women dead, and their murderer is still out there.”

  “So your dad just retired at the right time.” She cocked her head, studying him. There was more than just anger and frustration in him, there was shame, too. “So is this why you weren’t burning up the highway to Seattle?”

  He stared back at her. “You tilted your head just like that this morning. Gave me the same damn look.” When she didn’t answer, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “All right. So I wanted to have something to offer you first.”

  If he’d just walked through her door that would have been enough. But she’d stayed away because she’d had her own demons to fight - demons that he’d easily accepted — and so she couldn’t just tell him that his demons didn’t matter.

  She slipped off the bed, rose to her toes to press a quick kiss to his mouth. “So we find him.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we. And don’t argue,” she said when he looked ready to, “because I bit him. That means, right now, he’s probably fighting himself. And the urges to do what he craves, what he enjoys -which is apparently raping and killing — will be hard to resist.”

  Nathan watched her, his expression dark. “He’d already been waiting less time between attacks.”

  “So it’ll get worse. And then worse, because he’ll be stronger, faster. And he’ll have new ways of going after the women. And new ways of getting away.”

  “So what do you propose we do?”

  Emma tapped her finger against her nose. “Sniff him out. I know what he smells like, and this is a small town. I can cover a lot of ground in a night.”

  “I bet.” He paused, considering her. “How much did you cover this morning?”

  She grinned. “Only the houses south of Walnut Street.”

  Of course, he didn’t let her go alone. His Blazer moved slowly down the darkened streets and, from the driver’s seat, Nathan watched her flit between the houses, sniffing walkways and doors. Her appearance was raising hell with the dogs in town, more than one running along a backyard fence, barking its head off. He’d have a bevy of noise complaints to deal with tomorrow.

  He put in a call to Osborne, who he’d talked into staying at the house with a promise of a home-cooked stew. The deputy reported that Letty had already gone to bed and that he was working through his third bowl.

  Nathan would probably be rolling him out of there come morning.

  He watched Emma trot down a side street, staying in the shadows. Now and then she’d lift her nose, smelling the air before shaking her head and continuing on. Nathan sighed, took a swig of coffee. They’d likely be out here for hours. And even if Emma identified the bastard, bringing him in could be tricky. No judge would issue a warrant based on a wolf’s sense of smell. With luck, the print from the thumb would do it. But if not, Nathan would have to work backwards, find a solid link in the evidence that could have led him to the murderer’s front door.

  He frowned. Bringing a werewolf in was going to be tricky, regardless.

  It was just past two when Emma returned to the Blazer, her breath billowing in the freezing air. Nathan leaned over, opened the passenger door. She leaped onto the bench seat, and lay down with a heavy sigh.

  “Done for the night?” That sense of unreality hit him again. Knowing this wolf was Emma was one thing, talking to her in this shape was another.

  She looked up at him, turned onto her side. The whine that escaped her sent chills down his spine. Her jaw cracked and bulged.

  Oh, Jesus. He cut the Blazer’s headlights and pulled off to the deserted roadside. He slid towards her on the seat, but didn’t touch her for fear that his hands would add to the pain of the transformation. The change took less than a minute but felt like for ever; an eternity filled with her whimpers, the groans of her flesh and his murmurs that he prayed were helping, soothing. Finally she lay naked on the seat, her short hair and skin glistening with sweat.

  “It’s not so bad,” she panted. “Once the pain starts, you just ride with it.”

  Speechless, Nathan shook his head. He reached into the back seat for a blanket, tucked it around her shoulders.

  “Thanks.” She gratefully accepted the coffee he offered, raised it to her lips with shaking hands. “I just need another second.”

  She wasn’t exaggerating; by the time she’d swallowed the lukewarm drink, her shivers had stopped. She stared unblink-mgly out of the front windshield, her fingers tapping against the mug. “I get a whiff here and there, but it wasn’t concentrated anywhere. I think he must move around the town. Maybe he does repairs, or some kind of work on call.”

  Work was a reality Nathan could get a grip on. “We covered most of the town tonight. It might be he’s on one of the farms or rural properties outside of town, and just comes in ... for whatever it is he does.”

  “I can start running those properties tomorrow night.” Her lips curved. “I’d go during the day, but someone would probably shoot at me.”

  “It might be over by tomorrow anyway, if the state comes back with a name on that print.”

  Emma’s nod wasn’t too convincing. She was thinking, he imagined, exactly what he had been earlier: arresting a werewolf wasn’t going to be easy.

  She tilted her head back and finished off the coffee, then placed the mug carefully in the cup holder. “Did it help - to see me change? Or make it worse?”

  He didn’t even ask how she’d known he was having trouble reconciling his Emma with the wolf. “Helps. I’m not saying I’ve got my head around it yet. But it helps.”

  “The transformation is grotesque.”

  His gaze ran up her pale, perfectly human legs. “Maybe for a few seconds. What you’ve got on either end isn’t.”

  Her eyes locked with his. “You were afra
id to touch me.”

  “I didn’t know if it would hurt you.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth softened. Her fingers, which had been clutching the blanket at her neck, loosened. “I thought we’d established that it only hurts when you don’t.”

  The slice of skin and the pale curves of her breasts showing between the edges of the blanket undid him. Nathan pulled her towards him; she came eagerly, straddling his lap. Her mouth found his, then moved to his jaw, his neck. Her skin was hot beneath his hands. Her fingers worked frantically down the buttons of his shirt.

  He thought about putting a stop to it. Thought that he’d always intended a bed for her, roses and wine — not the front seat of his truck. But thought that he’d never heard anything sweeter than her soft gasps and moans, nothing sexier than her growl when he slid his fingers down her stomach.

  Her hips rocked, her back arched, her hands gripping his shoulders. She cried out his name when he pushed inside her. He offered himself to her just as he was, and took her just as she was.

  Running a hundred miles couldn’t have wrung her out as completely. Emma hadn’t moved since she’d collapsed against Nathan’s chest, her body limp. Didn’t want to move.

  But knew she needed to. With a soft groan, she slid from his lap. Nathan smiled, but he looked as shaken as she felt. Emma reached over the back of the seat for the bag she’d stuffed there before they’d left his house, not even trying to suppress the swelling emotion that constricted her chest, her throat. It was a sweet pain, knowing that it came from the wonder of fitting so perfectly with him.

  It had been good between them. Better than good. Amazing.

  Nathan finished buttoning his shirt, shoved the tails into his trousers. “I’ll call Osborne, let him know we’re heading back. You think Letty will notice if you sleep in my room?”

  “Yes.” Emma fished out her panties and jeans. “But she’ll get used to the idea.”

  Actually, Emma would have been surprised if her aunt didn’t already think that she and Nathan had been together all those years ago. She listened idly as Nathan spoke with Osborne, to Daisy’s faint bark in the background.