Lycan Packs 1: Lycan Instinct (34 page)

An hour later, Mackenzie was refreshed, sated, cleaned, and searching in the house Rafe called a closet for a shirt she could borrow.

“Who in the world needs this many clothes?” The hanger hooks scraped along the rod as she pushed them aside and grabbed a shirt from the sea of others. “Do you have something against wearing the same thing twice? You couldn’t possibly wear all this in a decade.”

She heard him laugh from the bedroom.

Slipping on the white, long-sleeved shirt, she fastened a few buttons, tied it off at her waist, and rolled up the sleeves. She stepped back into the bedroom.

Rafe sat on the foot of the bed, a wireless phone headset in his ear and PDA in his hand. His plasma screen television aired a news station with a constant stock ticker crawling across the bottom.

She’d never get accustomed to the many facets of the man. From playful lover to hard-core financier in the blink of an eye.

“That’s good news, but I want to be absolutely sure. We have a narrow window here. With the unveiling in... No, I don’t intend to cancel it, unless I’m positive of a breach in the software. If my brothers call, forward them to my cell.”

While he spoke, his eyes scanned the figures on screen and dropped to his PDA, where he scribbled notes or some other shorthand she wouldn’t recognize even if it was in English.

“The man’s a multitasking machine,” she murmured to no one in particular.

He glanced at her over his shoulder and smiled. “What? Yes, I’ll meet with them in Boardroom B. Reschedule my 9 o’clock video teleconference with London for tomorrow, and Sylvia, arrange security clearance for Mackenzie Lyons.” He winked when she cocked an eyebrow. “L-Y-O-N-S. No...All floors. Thank you. See you shortly.” He hung up.

“You didn’t have to do that.” She stuffed her fingers in the back pockets of her denims.

“I know.” Tossing his PDA and headset beside him on the bed, he tugged on the shirttails knotted at her waist until she stood between his legs. “But you look so sexy wearing my shirt, I couldn’t help myself.”

She laughed. “Yeah, well, I got tired of searching for a turtleneck.” She tilted her head, exposing her neck. “You didn’t leave any visible marks this time, did you?”

His lips curved as he feathered fingertips along her throat. “No, not here.”

The whispered words, uttered in a solemn tone, had her frowning.

“But I have marked you.” His face appeared somber, earnest.

“What do you mean?”

“The mark on your breast remains.”

She smiled, let his silk tie slide through her fingers. “Oh that. Don’t worry about it. I’m not made of crystal, you know. I can take whatever you dish out, wolfman.”

He nipped her chin. “That’s good to hear, since I expect no less from my mate.”

Her heart stopped, lungs seized, and it took a conscious effort to get them working again.

He lightly touched her lips with his, and the air in her chest came out in a whoosh.

“I... Did I hear you...?”

“Speechless, love?”

“You said, ‘Mate’.”

His impressive face brightened. “Yes, I know.”

“God...but...Rafe, you can’t be serious. I’m barely used to the
I love you
part...and...and I’m not Lycan.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“But I thought...” She shook her head. “I’m a cop. Well, not literally right now, but in here I still am.” She tapped her chest. “I haven’t given up on getting my badge back. Mating’s like marriage, right? Do you know what the divorce rate is for cops?”

He cupped her cheeks, pulled her forward for another brief kiss. “Cop or not, I love you. And the divorce rate for Lycans is zero.”

“But—”

He put a finger on her lips. “No buts. This changes nothing. I love you. You love me. You have all the time in the world to get used to the rest. We’ll take things slow.”

“Slow? God, you broke records convincing me to sleep with you, never mind the love part.”

He laughed. “Darling, you flatter me.” Standing up, he kissed the back of her hand, laced fingers, then headed for the door. “Hungry?”

Still off-balance, she blinked at the sudden change in subject. “Uh, yeah.”

“There’s a fabulous restaurant on the second floor. Order anything you like; I’ve arranged for the bill already. Unfortunately, I’ll have to pass on joining you. I’m expected in the office....” He glanced at his watch and frowned. “Five minutes ago, and I can’t put off the reporters much longer. Sylvia tells me Evalyn Drake’s already called three times this morning. What are your plans for today?”

“I have to swing by my apartment, return several files on the case to the office, avoid the media, and I’d like to check with your brothers to see what they turned up on my hunch last night.”

“Okay. Wait.” He disappeared into the bedroom again and came out with his PDA, slipping it into his pocket. He looked up and smiled. “Never leave home without it. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Simon can take you anywhere you’d like to go.” At her frown, he chuckled. “Or...if you’d rather, the Jaguar is downstairs. You’re welcome to drive it.”

That thought flipped the frown. “I’d love to...” His car was hot, but with her suspension, she thought it best not to show up at the station behind the wheel of his sports car. “But, I think it best I take the L or a cab.”

He grinned and shook his head. He dug a hand into a pocket. “Only you would choose public transportation over a Jag, but if you change your mind. Here are the keys.”

Crushed between a short, fat slob and a gum-popping grunge fan, Mackenzie wished she’d taken Rafe up on his offer instead of hopping on the L. What the hell was pride compared to comfort? And fresh air?

The standing-room only crowd swayed as the train shot down the tracks toward its next stop. When Mr. Slob’s beer-belly rubbed against her back, she glanced over her shoulder. That stop couldn’t come soon enough.

While she hung on to a chrome pole like a life preserver, she watched the public she used to serve and protect. What a mix of people. Young, old, conservative, and just plain weird. The city. The noise. The hum of life. She loved it, even if traveling through it was a pain in the ass sometimes.

When she felt Mr. Slob’s fat-fingered hand skim her backside, she decided some things the city offered just pissed her off. Turning, she snatched his little finger and twisted it backward at an awkward angle to ensure pain. The man yelled a rather inspirational curse.

“Touch me again, and the next thing I twist won’t be your finger. And if that’s not enough to convince you, I can haul your ass to the nearest CPD precinct. I’m sure my fellow officers would love to hear how a slimeball like you was stupid enough to try to feel up one of Chicago’s Finest.”

So she didn’t have a badge; that was a minor technicality the creep didn’t need to know.

The train slowed to a stop, and the crowd poured out like rainwater down a storm drain.

“Bitch,” the slob muttered, holding his hand as he shuffled away.

Yeah, she loved the city. On the landing, she flipped her collar up and strode toward her apartment.

Inside, she estimated the best time for pickup, then called a cab service.

She spent the next several minutes gathering up her files on the case. Most of the data was already at the station, so it didn’t take her long. But Cooper would need every clue to wrap up this one, so she’d give him everything she had. Well, almost everything.

She wavered on telling him about the possibility of their New Jersey hitman being a Lycan, but scratched the idea. She was in enough hot water. She didn’t need her partner calling for a psych-eval. Besides, she couldn’t betray Rafe’s trust.

As she slid the box off her desk, a piece of paper underneath it fell to the floor. After replacing the box, she knelt to retrieve the post-it note. Scribbled across the yellow square were some notes she’d jotted down after the second victim’s funeral.

Three letters stood out. PDA.

“Damn. I never did check on that for Emily.” She tossed the note into the box, grabbed the box, and headed outside where the taxi waited to take her to the station.

When she walked in, she ignored the telltale stares as she made her way to Cooper’s office. Obviously, the grapevine was alive and thriving.

“Cooper?” she asked, knocking on his doorframe and nudging the door open with her toe.

“Mac?” He was behind his desk but rose when he saw her.

“Hey.”

“Mac, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, well, I know. I thought you’d want these notes on the case. They were at my place.”

He took the box from her, put it on his desk, and shut the door.

“Here. Have a seat.”

“No. That’s okay. Look, I know you must be busy, but I need a favor.”

“Mac—”

“I know I’ve no right to ask, but it’s not for me. Not really.”

“Sit.”

She took a seat. “Emily, Shumaker’s widow, asked me about a PDA her husband carried. She was hoping to get it back when we were finished with it. I told her I’d check on it, get back to her, but with everything that’s happened, I forgot. I’d like to make it right. Do you mind?”

He’d propped a thigh on his desk and crossed his arms while he listened. When she stopped, he blew out a breath, then leaned across the desk for the phone.

“Hey, it’s Cooper. Could you check the personal effects from the Shumaker case for a small handheld PDA? The widow’s asking for it.” After a few minutes, he said, “Yeah. You sure? Okay. Thanks.”

Hanging up, he told her, “There was no PDA entered into evidence. Are you sure that’s what she wanted?”

“Yes. That’s strange. She said he never went anywhere without it.” She remembered Rafe had said something similar this morning. What were the chances...?

“Uh oh. I know that look.”

She met Cooper’s curious gaze. “What look? Never mind. I’ve gotta call Emily.” She snatched the phone, started punching buttons.

“Mac,” he warned. “What are you doing?”

She held up an index finger.

“Hello?” came a female voice.

“Emily Shumaker?”

“Yes, who’s this?”

“Hi. This is Detective Mackenzie Lyons.”

“Oh, you caught him? You found the killer?”

“No, I’m sorry. Not yet, but contrary to recent news reports, the department is making progress on your husband’s murder.”

“That’s good. I saw the reports. I don’t agree with Robertson’s family, not about Mr. Stone. He wouldn’t hurt Carl.”

“I understand.”

Cooper picked up a pencil, twirling it between his fingers, and eyed her with a frown.

“Reporters have been calling, but I don’t feel comfortable in front of cameras.”

“That’s all right. You’re not obligated to talk with them. Emily, the reason I’m calling is about your request for Carl’s PDA.”

“Yes?”

“It wasn’t recovered at the scene. Have you located it at home?”

“No,” Emily said. Mackenzie heard her disappointment and shared her feeling. “I don’t understand. He carried that thing everywhere with him. It was a gift, you know? I got it for him for our first anniversary.” She chuckled. “I think it meant as much to him as his wedding ring. That’s why I wanted to give it to our son.”

“Emily, do you know if he ever backed up his data to another computer, at work or a home PC, maybe?”

“Well yes, I think so. I’m sure he did. He has a computer here in his office. I haven’t been able to go in there since...what happened.”

“That’s okay. Would you mind if we checked it? There may be something on it that will help us.”

“Of course, if you think it will help.”

“Thank you. My partner will be in touch. Detective Cooper, Steve Cooper.”

“Okay. Goodbye.”

“Mac, what are you doing?” Cooper frowned. “You are no longer on this case.”

“I know, but...”

“You’re suspended. Do you want to compromise the case? Lose any chance you have of getting your badge back?”

“Cooper, listen...”

The pencil he’d been twirling snapped.

“No, damn it. For once, you listen. I’ve watched you since we were at the academy together. You’re a tough cop and until recently, I’d say you were the strictest, by-the-book investigator I know. That’s why I asked to work with you.”

“You...”

“But look at you. You admit to sleeping with a suspect, then come in here the next day in a shirt I know damn well didn’t come from your closet...”

Shit. She’d meant to change out of Rafe’s shirt but forgot.

“This whole case has had you chasing your tail, got you suspended, and now you’re grasping at straws. Go home. Let it go. Catch a movie. Visit a museum. I realize many around here think I goof off and don’t deserve to have this detective’s badge, but just this once, could you trust me to see this thing through and get the job done?”

Mackenzie sat before her partner—correction, her
former
partner—and let his words sink in. She had kept Cooper out of the loop on a lot of things in this investigation. Gave him the lion's share of the grunt work, but avoided sharing most of the key elements in the case. It wasn't that she didn't respect him as a cop—she did—but maybe it seemed that way to him.

“I can deal with the fact that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me of your little affair,” he said, the wound still evident in his voice, “but I’m not incompetent. I can do the job as well as you.”

“I know you can.” Her soft words had little impact on Cooper’s tirade.

He motioned toward the files and photos scattered across his desk and folded his arms. “I can follow leads. I know the score, so your billionaire boyfriend has nothing to worry about, okay?”

“What?”

“The only way to get your badge back is to clear Stone, and fast. I know that. Stone knows it.” He shuffled some papers and held up a notepad. “Got a tip this morning, from someone who wouldn’t give a name but claimed to work for Stone Corp. Word is there was a possible infiltration attempt on Stone’s Cyber-Guard software during development. Potential motive for the death of a computer programmer who knew too much?”

He tossed the notepad back onto a pile of papers.

“Caller mentioned a backdoor. That got me to thinking...”