Fiery Moon Page 6

  It was dark by the time I pulled my cruiser into the Moonrise Sheriff Department's gravel parking lot. I pulled into the spot and turned off the engine. Shane reached up, flicked off the map light, and put away the folder he was reading into his satchel.

  “Let's find out where Becky's disappeared to,” I growled, keeping my anger at a low simmer, ready to flare up at any moment.

  “Sure,” he said, and smiled.

  I trembled, shook. He was so handsome.

  Stop being weak.

  I climbed out of my cruiser before I did something stupid, like kiss him over the computer. The air was cooling, summer's heat dying away. I took a deep breath, breathing in the fresh scents. I could still smell Ajax on me, but it was fainter, the aroma of pines stronger.

  And Shane was there, in the background, teasing my nose.

  And another scent. I frowned and looked around the dark parking lot, My eyes were keen—night was day to me. Macy stood talking with her husband at the far end, half in shadows cast by the moon. He cradled their child in his arms as they spoke, bouncing the child who cooed and giggled.

  Macy paused then her head snapped around.

  “Hold on, dear,” she said, her voice soft but my ears were keen.

  I glanced at Shane. “Go inside. Have Kienan or Curtis look up Becky's current address if we know it. If she's out of prison, she should have a parole officer or something keeping tabs on her.”

  Shane nodded, glancing across the parking lot. Macy folded her arms, glaring at him like a friend should. Shane nodded his head in understanding and headed around the police station to the entrance. Macy walked across the parking lot, her stride quick, eyes fixed.

  “Veronica, are you okay?” she said, her voice tight. She was slim, shedding all her pregnancy fat in no time. “You didn't stop by. Hank said you would.”

  “I'm really not fine,” I sighed, leaning against the bricks of the police station, still warm with memory of the sun. “I should have come to see you.”

  She inhaled. “So instead you fucked Ajax before picking up your...Shane?”

  I shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was too horny. Just seeing his damned text sent the bitch inside me howling for him. Nothing had excited me so much since...” That night in the hotel room, drunk on champagne and love. “Since him.”

  Macy smiled, her head turning to glance at Hank as he held their child and pretended not to hear us—he could be a considerate guy, at least for his wife. “I get that, Veronica,” she said, joy perfuming her scent. “The imprint is...powerful.”

  “Too powerful.” I leaned back, my anger fading, but not the desire for Shane. I squirmed, the itch growing between my thighs. “I'm going to slip up. I know it. I'm going to let my guard down and surrender to him. And I know it will be glorious. That he'll give me what Ajax and all the others can't.” Tears burned my eyes. I wanted it so badly. “And then we'll catch Michael or the asshole will skip town and Shane will be gone for another few years until he has some excuse to come back here where his wolf-bitch waits, randy and ready for him.”

  “Damn,” Macy sighed. She put her arms around me. I closed my eyes and leaned against her. “That is rough.”

  “What can I do? I imprinted him. It was so stupid. But I couldn't stop myself. I was so caught up in the moment. And he accepted it.

  “Why did he have to do that? Why, Macy?” Was that really my voice? That weak, squeaking, sobbing sound?

  “I don't know why he accepted it.” She shrugged. “Unless...maybe...because his tiger recognized his mate. Why else does one person accept another's imprint? He knew you were his, and he was yours.”

  “But why did he run? Wasn't I good enough for him? Or was I too much of a backwoods, wolf-shifter yokel for him?”

  “I don't know.” She rocked me as a fresh wave of tears poured out of me. I held my friend like she was a lifesaver bobbing in the ocean, the only thing between me and drowning. “I really don't, sweetie. It sucks. I can't imagine what it would be like to have Hank do that to me.”

  “He's a wolf. He never would.” My anger spiked. “He's not a philandering tiger.”

  “Is that why you fucked Ajax? To show Shane you're not his wolf? That you can philander just like him?”

  “Yes.” I squeezed her tighter. “And he hardly reacted. If he was a wolf, he would have been devastated to smell another man's scent on me. To smell Ajax's seed and my juices and know that I had come hard. Shane just grimaced. He doesn't care about me. I know it. A-and...and that's why he's going to hurt me again. I know it. I can't fight my wolf. Not forever.”

  The tears hit me hard. My emotions whipsawed through me as I cried on her shoulder. She stroked my back, whispering soothing sounds as she comforted me. I struggled to regain control, to stop the tears, but I couldn't hold them back.

  He ripped my heart out when he left me. I was devastated. I still wasn't whole. He had a piece of me in him. He took it away. All the guys I fucked could never fill it permanently. They could just give me a few moments to forget.

  Which made me so desperate to have him. To hold him and love him and never let him go.

  But he would. Asshole.

  “Have you...” Marcy hesitated. “Have you thought about surrendering?”

  “What?” I pulled away and stared at my friend. “To Shane? To the imprint?”

  She nodded.

  Anger roared. “Why would you even suggest that?”

  “He's your mate. You love him. I know you're angry with him, and you have every right to be. He hurt you bad, but that doesn't change how you feel here.” She touched my chest. “I can feel your heart beating for him. Smell the longing on your scent. You miss him. You want him. You won't be complete without him.”

  “And when he leaves?”

  “Maybe he won't.”

  I snorted. “You're not that dumb, Macy. Three years and he never contacted me.”

  “He came back today.”

  “Because of Michael. If that jackass wasn't back in town, I never would have seen Shane. I could have gone on pretending I was happy.”

  “Wouldn't you rather actually be happy?”

  “Yes.” Anger surged in me. “Why are you saying this? Don't make this harder on me. Don't weaken me. I can't give in to him. I won't let him hurt me again. I won't.”

  “Isn't it worth it to try, though? To see if he still loves you. If he can mend what he broke.”

  “He doesn't care. He's just after Michael. I'm just a beautiful woman to fuck. To have fun with.” Saying those words hurt the most. Reading them on my phone. Sitting on the hotel bed in shock...

  ~ ~ ~

  Three years ago...

  I woke up to sunlight streaming through the window. I blinked, groaning. The air smelled of sex and potpourri, flowery and spicy. I blinked against the light, rolling over onto my back. My breasts felt sticky. The scent of champagne caught my nose.

  Where was I...?

  It came back to me and I smiled. I was in the city of Missoula, in the hotel. Last night, Shane and I had shared passion on our “stakeout.” First dinner, which was romantic, and then back to the hotel for the sex.

  And it was so wonderful. The best sex ever. I felt his love. I opened myself up. I imprinted him.

  He was my mate. He accepted the imprint. I let out a squeal of joy as my head rested on the hotel pillows. My hands reached out, searching for him.

  I was in bed alone.

  I blinked. “Shane?”

  I breathed in, my nose cataloging the room. His scent lingered, but it was faint. I sat up, the sheets falling off my naked body, and looked around the hotel room. Was he in the bathroom? I rolled off the bed, my naked feet landing on the carpet. I took a moment to stretch before I sauntered across the room, stepping over my discarded clothing.

  “Shane,” I purred, knocking on the bathroom door. “Mmm, you in there, tiger?”

  Nothing.

  I listened. I heard no movement. No light came out
from under the door. I opened it. The bathroom was empty, the shower curtain pulled back. The towels were still hanging from the rack. No sign he had been in here.

  I frowned and stepped out. I glanced at the floor. His clothing was gone instead of scattered across the room like mine. Had he dressed and left while I slept? Why? A moment of panic surged through me. Macy had warned me that tiger shifters didn't imprint. That they didn't mate for life like wolf or bear shifters did.

  But he accepted the imprint. He didn't have to. I felt him hesitate then embrace it.

  He must have gone out to get breakfast or take a walk or something. He didn't abandon me. Not after last night. I walked over to my purse, my heart thudding. Visions of our future danced through my head. I would quit the force and join the FBI. I would be his partner as well as his mate. The pack would understand. I had to go with my mate.

  I picked up my purse and sat down on the bed. I rummaged through it for my phone. I swiped the screen. There was a text message from Shane. I smiled, lying back on the bed, and tapped the message.

  My smile vanished.

  “Going to airport. Michael spotted in Santa Fe. Hot lead. It was fun. Maybe we'll hook up again. S.”

  My heart almost stopped beating. I had to read the message over and over and over. Fun? That was it? Fun. Hook up? What was last night? I gave myself to him. I imprinted him. He was my mate. He owned my heart.

  And that was nothing to him? Nothing but fucking fun?

  “Hook up?” I snarled. “I'm your fucking mate.”

  My fingers typed furiously on my phone. “What the fuck? What about last night? You accepted my imprint? I'm your mate and you fucking run out in the middle of the fucking night?”

  I hit send and waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Tears fell down my cheeks. Anger and hurt rejection surged through me. Wasn't I good enough for him?

  Bastard!

  Wasn't I pretty enough?

  Asshole!

  Didn't I please him in bed?

  Cock-sucking son of a bitch!

  Didn't he love me?

  My hands clenched on my phone as I waited for his answer. It never came. He didn't care about me. It was just “fun.” A fling. I was just a hole for him to rut in while he was stuck in back-country Montana. A slot for his peg.

  I was a story he would tell to his friends, bragging: “You should have seen the werewolf I hooked up with. Bitch thought I was her man. Had her gasping and moaning and screaming her lungs out. She even imprinted me, that was how hard I made her cum.”

  I threw myself off my bed and pulled on the slinky dress I wore for him last night, minus my ruined panties. I wanted to rip the dress to pieces, but I had nothing else to wear. I would go to the airport at Missoula and rip out his fucking heart. It was mine. He accepted the imprint.

  And then my knees buckled, and I fell to the floor crying. He abandoned me. He took me as his mate and then threw me to the side to chase some criminal. It was just fun to him. It meant nothing. How could that be true?

  The anger surged through me. Asshole! How could you not have felt anything after last night? I snagged my heels and purse then marched out of the hotel room, tears pouring down my face. I didn't take the elevator. I had too much energy in me.

  My bare feet slapped as I raced down the stairs. I burst into the hotel's lobby and rushed to the concierge's desk. The man looked up and blinked. I must look like a frightful mess. I didn't take off my makeup before falling asleep. And I was crying. My hair must be a disaster.

  “How can I help you, ma'am?”

  “I need a taxi to the airport. Right fucking now!”

  “Of course, ma'am,” he said and grabbed his phone.

  Missoula had an international airport. The coward would be there. I would rip out his heart.

  I would beg him to love me.

  I would kick his fucking ass.

  I would bare my soul and make him understand that I was his.

  I would beat him black and blue.

  I would kiss him until he was mine again.

  He would pay.

  He would be mine.

  The cab arrived. I marched into it. The cabbie didn't say a word. He took one look at me and his face paled. He understood. I was a pissed off, hurt bitch he did not want to aggravate further. He instantly turned off the terrible rap music he had blaring and said not a word on the drive to the airport.

  He pulled up to the terminal a few minutes later. “Um...that'll be...uh...”

  I pulled out my wallet and threw a twenty at him. “Good?”

  “Yes, ma'am,” he nodded, swallowing.

  I burst out of his cab and walked into the airport, my eyes going to the arrivals and departures. There was only one flight heading to Santa Fe, and it left ten minutes ago. He was gone. He left me. I slumped into a chair and stared at the board.

  He left me. How could he do that? How could I have been so stupid as to think a tiger-shifter could love like a wolf? And now it was too late. I couldn't take back my imprint. It didn't work like that. He would always be my mate. As much as I hurt, he would always own my heart.

  And it wasn't fucking fair.

  Chapter Eight

  The present...

  Macy's words haunted me as I headed into the police station. Did I owe myself trying to mend things with Shane? To see if he was sorry? That he did care about me? That he would stay with me or let me go with him? To have a chance of real happiness instead of the rut that was my life? The endless prowl of mindless sex.

  To have what Kotie and Penny and Macy had with their mates.

  Shane was the only chance I had for that. I imprinted him. He accepted. It was just that simple for us wolf-shifters. Maybe tigers didn't care about the imprint. Maybe he had lots of women imprinted. I bet he moved from one to the other, spending brief moments with them before he moved on to his next mate.

  It disgusted me.

  The anger swelled through me. No. The philandering asshole had his chance. He shouldn't have taken my imprint if he was just going to abandon me in the middle of the night and flee to Santa Fe. He could have had his other women and left me to find a faithful man.

  I would try to find happiness in my rut. Maybe I would get lucky and just forget about Shane in another few years.

  The moment I saw him sitting at Curtis's desk, staring at the computer screen, my emotions surged, demanding me to relent my anger and forgive. To follow Macy's advice. To relax and stop being such a hostile bitch to him. Wasn't risking the pain worth the reward?

  No. Absolutely not.

  His head turned, his dark eyes fell on me. He lit up and stood as I marched to him. His scent filled my nose. I didn't catch a hint of another woman on him, but that didn't mean anything. It could have been a few days since he was with anyone, or he showered really well afterward.

  I bet he hit on the stewardess on the way out, probably hoping he could have a little romp with her on the plane. A little mile-high delight in the lavatory. I grit my teeth and glared at him.

  “Are you going to be pissed at me the entire time?” he asked. “Because I do get it. I do. But it's not going to make working together easy. We have to find Michael.”

  I wanted to growl, “Then choose another deputy to work with than me,” but I didn't.

  So I said, “Yes. Yes it does make it more difficult.”

  “So you'll try not to let your anger out. You can hate me. I deserve it, I do. But... let's be professional.”

  “Fine.”

  He nodded his head. “Okay. I have Becky Murphy's address. She's back in that same trailer we saw her and Michael at three years ago.”

  My cheeks warmed. The same place where we had made love the first time. Hot, passionate, primal, pressed against Shane's shot up Camaro, an explosion of wonderful lust.

  It would not happen again.

  “Then let's go,” I said. “Let's find Michael so you can get back to whatever it is you do. Y
our important FBI job.”

  He opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something, then he shook his head. “Yeah, let's find Michael.”

  Disappointment soured his scent. Oh, he wanted me to be the same eager wolf swept up by the handsome tiger shifter FBI Agent. I bet he was hoping to have a repeat of our first time tonight. Asshole.

  It was only when we exited the police station I realized a problem. We didn't have an unmarked car. Last time, Shane had rented a muscle car. And when the first one was shot up by Michael, he rented another one. So why did he have me drive out to Missoula to pick him up?

  “What's wrong?” he asked. “Did you remember another thing to hate about me?”

  “Did the FBI tell you to stop renting cars?”

  “No,” he said as I headed to my cruiser. “Wait, we shouldn't use a marked vehicle.” He looked around the parking lot. “Do you have your own car?”

  “We're not using my car.”

  “Why?”

  “It's not insured to go on a stakeout. I don't want it to get shot up.”

  Shane laughed, his smile growing. It was infectious. My anger wavered before it. I wanted to join him. “No, no. I'd hate for that to happen again. We were lucky neither of us were hurt that time. Does your department's motor pool have any unmarked vehicles?”

  I nodded. “Give me a few minutes.”

  I headed back inside, filled out the paperwork—it never ended as a cop—and checked out a beat-up Chevy Nova we had seized a few months back in a meth lab raid. We never kept undercover vehicles long, swapping them out for other cars we impounded. People like to think no crime happens in the country, but they would be wrong.

  It just doesn't make the news that often.

  We drove in silence out to Becky Murphy's trailer—she moved back in after being released from prison. I remembered the way, taking us through the dark, mountain backroads. No streetlights, just the occasional house light from the residences tucked away off the gravel roads. When we got within a few blocks, I turned off my headlights—I didn't need them, they were for the benefit of normal humans to spot my car and not run into me.

  I stopped at a good spot to watch her trailer, pulling onto a grassy shoulder. I turned off the engine. The chirp of crickets and the croak of a frog filled the night. I shifted in my seat as I stared at the porch light of the trailer. The curtains were drawn. On the far right, I could see the shifting light from a TV.