Hunting Moon (Decorah Security Series, Book #11): A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel (18 page)

She was glad she had studied the floor plan the night before and had an idea of the size.

“Maybe we should start in the den. That’s a logical place,” Brand said.

“Why?”

“Well, he did business there, didn’t he?”

“Okay.”

“And if we don’t find anything, we can keep going to the bedroom.”

She answered with a tight nod.

The light might be dim, but it felt like Denato could step back in here any moment and turn on the lights. Except that was impossible because he was never coming back, she assured herself. She’d seen him as dead as a lion shot by big-game hunters.

Still she half expected to open a closet and have his limp and bloodied body tumble out—a pretty fanciful notion, she silently admitted.

Brand searched the closet while she opened desk drawers. He’d given her a lesson in how to do it effectively, and she felt the bottom of each drawer before she closed it.

He emerged from the closet and checked along the baseboards, then rolled back the rug and examined the floor before dragging the carpet back into place.

This was taking too long, she thought, as the phone in Brand’s pocket buzzed.

When she jumped, he put a reassuring hand on her arm.

“That’s the guys,” he said, clicking the talk button.

“Everything okay?” Cole asked.

“Yes. We check in again in twenty minutes.”

Brand put the phone back and finished searching the office. When they found nothing useful, they started for the bedroom.

Before they reached it, lights flashed on, and an angry voice called out, “I guess you can’t do anything right.”

Tory instantly knew who it was.

“That’s Denato,” she moaned.

“It can’t be.”

Brand silently cursed as he realized someone was between them and the door to the condo.

“Turn around,” a clipped voice ordered. “And don’t try anything funny.”

Cole and Tory turned, and he saw a man holding a gun, which was pointed at Tory. Although the guy looked to be in his fifties, he was in excellent shape, with a trim figure and a full head of dark hair flecked with a scattering of gray.

“Who are you?” he asked, focusing on Brand.

“Tory’s friend.”

“How’d you end up sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”

“She asked for my help,” Brand answered, trying to buy some time.

“Yeah, to steal my money. I see a bulge under your jacket. You’re carrying. Drop your weapon. Take it out slowly, and hold it between your thumb and finger,” giving the same directions Freemont had used when he’d gotten the drop on them at the Refuge.

“You don’t really want me to drop it, do you?” Brand asked.

“Don’t be smart with me. Put it down on the floor.”

Brand pulled the gun out of his pocket and reached down to lay it on the floor. He also pulled his phone from his other pocket and pushed the send button. He knew Denato would be focused on the weapon. And as he put the Sig down, he scooted the phone across the polished wooden floor. When Denato spun to see what was making the noise, Brand grabbed Tory and dragged her around the corner. Denato got off a shot, but they were already into the bedroom, then into the large bathroom.

“Oh God. Oh God,” she moaned as he slammed and locked the door behind them.

Thank the Lord the room was the shape he’d seen in the plans, with a section of wall sticking out to block the tub from the door. Brand pulled Tory into the tub where she’d have some protection if the guy outside started shooting again. Or maybe he realized that someone might already have heard the shot.

“Lie down.”

She flattened herself in the large tub. Climbing in, he covered her body with his, praying that pushing the send button would alert the others.

“That’s really Denato out there?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I guess he’s not dead.”

“That’s what everyone was supposed to think,” the man’s voice called out from the other side of the door. “She was supposed to call the cops and tell them I had been murdered, but instead she ran.”

“And what were the cops going to do when they didn’t find a body?” Brand challenged.

“I had an arrangement with a couple of patrol officers who were standing by and were going to fix that,” Denato answered. “But Ms. Robinson screwed up my plans. And then she and Gary Freemont started working together. Or maybe they were already pals.”

“I wasn’t working with Freemont,” Tory answered. “I didn’t even know him.”

Denato made a scoffing sound, then said. “Don’t bother with the lies. I know you and him were up at some fancy refuge upstate.”

Tory made a low sound.

“If you think that’s what was going on, you’re dead wrong,” Brand said.

“Cut the crap,” the gangster replied, then addressed Tory again. “I knew you’d come back. I have this whole floor, and there’s a surveillance system in here.” His voice had turned smug. “All I had to do was wait for you to return for the money. And I knew I could get to you before you could find my stash. It’s under the floor in the bedroom. But that won’t do you any good. There’s no bathroom window. I’ve got you trapped in there. Come out, and I’ll make it a quick death.”

“Screw you,” Brand answered.

A hail of bullets hit the door, and Brand pressed Tory against the bottom of the tub. Slugs bounced off the porcelain, but none of them could plow through the sturdy old fixture.

“Maybe the cops will come,” Tory whispered.

“I wouldn’t count on it. They didn’t come the first time. Probably he’s got this place soundproofed, too.”

The observation made her look sick.

“But I have backup coming.”

“Yeah, right.”

When Brand started to push himself up, Tory grabbed his arm and shook her head.

He turned back to her, knowing the other Decorah agents might not get there in time. He had to save her life—even if it meant that she ran screaming from him.

He came back down and put his mouth to her ear. “He thinks I don’t have a weapon.

She turned her head and whispered back. “But you do?”

“Not in the conventional sense.” He dragged in a breath and let it out. “I was going to tell you. I knew I had to tell you. But I didn’t know how. You saw a wolf in the woods. That was me. You said we had the same eyes—remember?”

She stared at him, and he knew she wasn’t taking it in. But who would?

Brand heard the door rattle. Quietly he stood and pulled his shirt over his head.

“I love you Tory, and this is the only way I can save you,” he said. Then, in a whisper, he began to say the chant of transformation.

He felt Tory’s eyes on him as he shucked off his pants, still chanting, rushing through the change so he’d be ready when the bastard came in.

He kept his gaze focused on the door, but he heard Tory moan behind him.

One more shot hit the barrier. Then the door slammed open, and Denato stepped into the room.

Brand was still making the last of the change from man to wolf, and heard the mobster make a gurgling sound as he backed away from a vision he had no way to understand.

Finally, in wolf form, Brand sprang, coming in low, under the gun, smashing the mobster backwards into the tile floor, hearing his head crack. The gun fired, but the shot went wild. Brand chomped down on the man’s wrist, shaking it until the fingers went limp and the gun dropped to the tile.

But Denato wasn’t giving up. He raised his other hand, aiming his fingers for the wolf’s eyes.

A gunshot rang out, and Denato jumped, then tried to scramble away. As he put distance between himself and the wolf, another round split the air, and Denato went still as a red stain bloomed on his chest.

Brand pawed the man, making sure he was gone. Turning, he saw Ben standing in the doorway with a gun in his hand. The other two Decorah agents were behind him.

Brand nodded at them before walking into the hall where he silently said the chant that reversed the transformation process.

He heard someone clear his throat and saw Cole holding his clothing.

“Thanks,” he said as he dressed.

“No problem,” Cole answered.

“Can you give me a minute?” Brand asked.

“Yeah.”

“And thanks for saving our lives,” he added.

The three agents walked down the hall, and Brand stepped back into the bathroom.

Tory was sitting up, her gaze riveted on him.

Wishing he could read her expression, he said, “You told me you felt like you’d bonded with me. A werewolf bonds with his lifemate. Although I don’t know what happens if she decides she can’t cope with a werewolf mate.”

He reached out a hand to her, and when she took it, he let out a long sigh as he helped her up. At least she was willing to let him touch her.

But her next comment was far from reassuring.

“You should have told me,” she said in a strangled voice. “Before we made love, you should have told me what kind of creature you were.”

The word creature stung, and he wanted to tell her to take him or leave him. But of course those were words he simply couldn’t utter. Instead he tried to make her understand what he was feeling. “I was in love with you,” he said in a voice he couldn’t quite hold steady, “and I was terrified that you would walk away from me. If you want to call that ‘taking the coward’s way out,’ go ahead.”

He saw a raft of expressions chase themselves across her face, and he thought for a moment that she might reach for him. Instead she turned away.

Behind him someone cleared his throat. It was Cole. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, thanks to you guys.” He gestured toward the body on the floor. “It seems Denato wasn’t dead. Apparently he and Freemont had plots and counterplots. I guess Denato was going to take the money and disappear. Freemont must have realized he needed a way to find Denato’s stash.

“Denato was waiting for Tory to come back and get the loot. He thought she was working with Freemont. Nice guys.”

The other werewolf eyed the way Brand and Tory stood stiffly in the confined space.

“We were barricaded in here,” Brand clipped out. “There was only one way I could take him down.”

Cole knelt beside the body. “He died of a gunshot wound.”

“Good,” Brand said.

Tory was staring at Cole. She looked from him to Brand and back again. “At the Refuge, I heard an animal growl in back of Freemont. You said it was you.”

“Yeah.”

“You said you were good at making animal sounds.”

“I am.”

“Like Brand is?” she clarified.

“Yes.”

“You said you were married.”

“Yes. Very happily married,” he answered, obviously giving her an unspoken message. “For the record, Emma found out about me the way you found out about Brand. And I don’t wear a ring because it would mangle my paw.”

Brand saw Tory press her hands against her sides and take several deep breaths. Looking at Ben, she asked. “Are you one, too?”

“No. But I touch dead people and get their last memories.”

“What?”

“Most Decorah agents have special talents.”

Nick cleared his throat. “If I focus my concentration, I can make myself disappear.”

Tory nodded slowly, taking in a lot of information at once.

“We should get out of here,” Cole said.

“After we get the money,” Brand answered. “Denato told us where to find it.”

Tory stared at him. “We’re going to keep it?”

“Yeah, Decorah can do a lot of good with it. We might as well stuff it in some of those gourmet popcorn boxes.”

Brand turned and walked back to the bedroom, thinking he’d wanted to tell Tory about the wolf in private. Instead there had been a whole lot of witnesses to her reaction.

With a grimace, he started banging his heel against the floorboards until he found a hollow place.

“Bring me a knife from the kitchen,” he said to Ben.

When the other agent returned to the bedroom, Brand used the knife to pry up a couple of boards. Inside were cardboard boxes filled with bills in large denominations. Brand riffled through one and whistled. “Looks like half a mil in this one. And we don’t even need the popcorn boxes.”

Each of the agents took two boxes. Tory looked like she didn’t want to touch Denato’s money, but she agreed to take another box.

There were still boxes under the floor when Brand put the boards back. “Maybe the people who buy the condo will have a nice surprise.”

“What about Denato?” Cole asked. “I mean, what are the cops going to think?”

“I put the gun back in his hand,” Nick said. “There’s gunshot residue on his hand and bullet holes all over the place. As far as anyone can tell, he was in a gun battle.”

“As well as a dogfight,” Cole added. “The ME should have fun with that.”

Brand looked at Tory who had kept on her gloves. His own were gone, but he wiped down any surfaces he might have touched in the bathroom.

“Kept your head down,” Brand reminded Tory as they took the elevator to the basement level and returned to the van.

She answered with a small nod.

He wanted to take her aside and have it out with her, but he knew that would have to wait until after they flew back to Beltsville.

In the van, Nick called Frank to report that they were safely out of the condo—and that they were bringing a little present from the Big Apple. He skipped any details that they’d be discussing at Decorah headquarters.

There was a minimum of conversation on the trip back. None of the other guys dared to make any comments about the frozen silence between Brand and Tory.

He kept glancing at her, alternating between wanting to pull her into his arms and wanting to bang his head against the bulkhead. This was his fault. She was right. He should have come clean with her.

When they arrived at Decorah headquarters, Frank came out to meet them. Brand glanced at the other men. “Can you report? Tory and I have to talk.”

“Yes,” Cole answered.

Brand turned to her. “There are private rooms in the back.”

At least she followed him inside to one of the lounges where the staff could relax. He closed the door, thinking about locking it but deciding that was probably going too far at the moment.

“You have something to say?” Tory asked.

“What I’d like to do is take you back to the safe house and fuck your eyeballs out until you acknowledge how good we are together.”

“That’s a great way to describe making love. Is that how a werewolf cements the relationship between him and his mate?” she shot back.