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  Right now, all she wanted to do was take some aspirin, crawl in the shower, and then climb into bed. Maybe when she woke up tomorrow, this nightmare would be over.

  Get real. Her mom would still be dead, she’d still have the guilt that she’d actually wanted to kill a man, and her body would still ache. What had she been thinking going after Couch? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  If she had Trax’s address, she’d send him a card or a small gift for saving her life and for taking the time to bring her to the clinic. And then there was Dante. From the way his Hawaiian shirt had been buttoned, the man had probably been in the middle of doing something important when his brother called. How many men would traipse into a stinky alley to find a woman’s pink purse then drive it all the way out to her? No doubt, these were nice men. Now, she had no way to thank them.

  Too exhausted to come up with a plan to find out where they lived, she dropped her purse on the dining room table and hobbled to her bedroom. She checked behind her to make sure she’d fastened the deadbolt. Fortunately, old habits were ingrained in her.

  She undressed, dumped her wet clothes in the washer, and then headed to the shower. She had plenty of extra bandages to recover her knees, but the doctor suggested she not get her right hand wet for a few days. Right. The only way to accomplish that would be to place her hand in a plastic bag and tie the ends.

  Because all the drapes were drawn, she walked to the kitchen naked. No sooner had she picked up the baggie than the doorbell rang.

  Crap. It was probably Chelsea. She’d promised her friend they’d talk about going out this weekend, and Liz had forgotten to call. She glanced at her answering machine and noted the blinking light. That was probably her. When Liz hadn’t answered, her friend probably worried and decided to check in person. They only lived two blocks from each other.

  “Just a sec.”

  As quickly as she could, she made it to her bedroom, threw on a bathrobe, and returned. When she looked through the peephole, she froze. Both Trax and Dante stood there. She plastered her back against the door. What could they possibly want? Had they found out the name of the driver and had come to warn her?

  They knocked. “Liz, we know you’re in there. We just need to talk.”

  She half hopped and half skipped over to her bag, retrieved the gun, and shoved the weapon in her big pocket. Only then did she open the door. She stood behind it and peeked out. “Yes? Did I forget something?” That was rather curt and ungrateful sounding, but knowing she was almost naked and they were hot, made her mind mush.

  “We’re sorry to bother you, but we need to talk to you about what you saw.”

  Oh, shit. Trax saw those animals change, too.

  “You talking about the funny dogs?” She didn’t know how to ask without sounding like she was a little crazy.

  “Yes, about the funny looking dogs that maybe weren’t dogs at all.”

  Oh, my God. They were werewolves.

  She let the men in. “I’d offer you something to drink, but it’s hard for me to pour anything.” She looked down, saw her breast exposed, and pulled the robe tighter. “Have a seat.” Her small living room contained a cheery yellow sofa and two red upholstered chairs. In between sat a wooden table from Walmart.

  “This isn’t a social visit.”

  Oh. They were serious about these wolves. Both men sat, but only Dante appeared relaxed.

  She decided it wiser if Trax went first. “Tell me what you saw.”

  Dante’s lips curled up on one end as if he was enjoying this. “That’s not how this works, sugar. We’re the ones asking the questions.”

  She was cold, tired, scared, and downright pissed. “Who put you two in charge?”

  Trax leaned forward. “Ma’am. You have no idea who or what you’re dealing with.”

  She was tired of Trax’s intense demeanor. “Okay, so tell me Mr. I-Know-Everything, just who am I dealing with?”

  “The van that attempted to run you down is registered to Harvey Couch.”

  Her stomach caved. No freaking way. “Why would he want me dead?”

  Trax glanced at his brother. “That’s what we need to find out. What aren’t you telling us?”

  A lot, but she could hardly say she’d laced his coffee with GHB because she wanted to murder the guy. Hell, they might haul her off to jail. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  Dante leaned back against the couch, stretched out his legs, and placed his arms across the back. He looked perfect there.

  “Go ahead, Trax. Tell her why she should trust us.”

  The hard stare Trax sent his brother almost scared her. “Because we want to make sure the Harvey Couchs of the world don’t cause trouble. We’ve had him under surveillance for quite some time and believe he’s a kingpin in a drug operation.”

  Drugs? “Are you with the FBI?” Regardless of their employer, she’d tried to kill someone. She would go to jail. She had no intention of confessing if she didn’t have to, and only if they gave her immunity.

  “No, ma’am. We aren’t with the government, per se. Anything you tell us will be kept in strictest confidence. We don’t arrest people.”

  Some of her tension eased. Not that she didn’t believe Harvey Couch was capable of being a drug lord, but his business really did bring in au pairs.

  “I worked one day for Couch. As far as I could tell, he ran a business that provided nannies for American families. I never saw or heard anything drug related.” Though what did she really know? He certainly wouldn’t have confided in her if he had been doing something illegal.

  “That may be true, but we also suspect he might be trafficking humans illegally. The Au Pairs for U might be a front for his other business.”

  Oh, crap.

  Dante removed his arms from along the back of the sofa and his happy-go-lucky charm diffused. “That’s why we need to know what you found out. Maybe you saw something you weren’t supposed to, and Harvey decided to eliminate you.”

  Bile rushed to her mouth. “I didn’t see anything.” Other than his appointments for the rest of the week. She’d copied them all down. With nothing more to add, she continued, “Can we get back to these wolves?”

  “Okay. Tell me exactly what you saw.” Trax seemed single minded in his determination to find out her connection to Couch and was unwilling to share.

  She inhaled, praying she was doing the right thing. “I was in shock mind you, but when the dogs, I mean the wolves, ran back to the van, my vision blurred for a moment. First, I saw the pile of fur grow. Human legs replaced their short stubby ones. Next I spotted arms coming out of this mass and then a head formed. By the time those things got into the van, they were fully human.”

  She studied the men’s faces but neither showed any expression. Not shock, acceptance, or confusion. Neither said anything for a while.

  “Crazy, huh?”

  Trax leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. She’d never seen a more alluringly powerful man. His gaze caught hers and it was as if he could see straight into her soul. “Harvey Couch and his men are what we call werewolves.”

  An invisible hand seemed to punch her in the belly. “You’re pulling my leg, right?”

  “No, ma’am. You said you saw wolves change into men.”

  Yes, she had. Oh, my fucking God. It had been real. “No way.”

  “Are you doubting what you saw?”

  Yes. “Are we talking about werewolves that howl at the moon, and when they bite a human, that human is turned?”

  Trax’s jaw hardened whereas Dante’s lips lifted a little.

  “Ma’am. That’s all stuff from Hollywood. Couch and his men look and act like humans, albeit bad ones. They can shift into wolves when it suits their purpose. They don’t change humans into werewolves. One needs to have a werewolf father to be a werewolf.”

  She slumped back. Her whole world was basically a lie. Right now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know much more. Trax seemed to have a lock on this werewol
f stuff. “How do you know so much?”

  “Get dressed and clean up. We’ll talk then.”

  The only comforting thing was that Trax had confirmed she wasn’t crazy. Getting warm and being away from these men for a few minutes might help her sort through the rubble.

  She gimped into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and splashed water on her face. While she was warmer than when she’d first come in, her feet were like ice and her hair still damp. Not wanting to keep them waiting, she pulled on jeans that she had to hop to get in to, a loose T-shirt, a baggy sweater, warm socks, and boots. The socks had been the hardest to get on with her injured hand.

  Now she almost felt human, but she couldn’t button her jeans. Damn it. She pulled her sweater down over the waistband and went back out. Both men were deep in conversation and stopped when she approached. More questions slammed into her brain. They might answer one or two, but she bet that would be the limit.

  She looked over at Trax. “Were you following Couch’s men when they drove into the alley? Is that why you were so near?” She didn’t believe in coincidences.

  “Yes. Our group intercepted Couch’s phone call about wanting you dead.”

  Her head pounded. “Oh.” She doubted he’d go into more detail about his group. She closed her eyes and tried to figure out what came next, and her stomach turned queasy. “Do you think he’ll try again?”

  Trax didn’t even blink. “I don’t know. Even though you witnessed his men shift, he’ll probably figure that even if you went to the authorities, no one would believe you.”

  “I agree, but trust me, I have no intention of telling anyone.”

  “We think it would be safer if you stayed with us. Our home is secure.”

  Dante chuckled. “We have more cameras than Central Command. No one can sneak in.”

  She skewed up her face. “Even in your bedroom?” Now why had her mind gone there? Oh, yeah. Because these men did things to her body that no others had.

  “No.” His smile made his eyes twinkle. “Not there. We have surveillance outside the building to see who approaches. We leave motion sensors on at night to make sure no sneak attacks occur.”

  A lot more was at stake than just Harvey Couch. “What do you really do?” Trax seemed to be the one in this line of business. “Who is this group you referred to?”

  “Our group tries to keep Gulfside safe from the likes of those types of shifters.”

  It now made sense. “So you’re kind of like ghost hunters, only you target werewolves?”

  Now some joy filled his face. “Something like that.” He sat back up. “Now tell us really why Harvey Couch wanted you dead. Did you steal something?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  Trax said she could tell him anything. Even if they’d lied and were cops, they would have been required to read her her rights to use what she said against her. “I tried to kill him.”

  Trax burst out laughing, and from the way Dante’s eyes widened, it was an odd occurrence. “I have to say I might have misjudged you. Why would you do that? It was your first day on the job. Or should I ask, what did Harvey Couch do to deserve your wrath?”

  Her thoughts shot ahead. Maybe if she could give Trax some information that would lead to Couch’s arrest, once the bastard was in custody, she might be able to get the rape charge to stick. “He raped my mother. I put GHB in his coffee so he’d pass out. Then I had planned to shoot him.”

  Dante lips pressed together. “Too bad you couldn’t have known werewolves absorb drugs differently than humans.”

  Damn. “So that’s why when I doused his coffee, he didn’t even look sleepy. Do you think he knew?”

  “Yes. He would have smelled it.”

  The bastard never let on. “I put a ton of sugar and cream in his cup to cover up the taste so it didn’t smell.”

  “Not to you.”

  While she didn’t know what parts of the lore were true and which weren’t, she guessed that if Couch were part animal, he’d have a keener sense of smell. “Just out of curiosity if I’d shot him, would I have killed him?” She wasn’t sure about the silver bullet theory.

  Dante must have taken pity on her and waved a hand. “No. Werewolves take a special kind of bullet.”

  “Then it’s true that werewolves can only be killed with silver bullets?”

  Now Dante laughed and the sound tumbled straight to her heart. “No, sugar. It’s one you have to make yourself. One mixes a particular chemical with the gunpowder and it’s poisonous to shifters.”

  Their knowledge was impressive. “How do you know so much?” Trax hadn’t answered her question, but Dante seemed more receptive.

  Dante tapped his head. “We’ve been watching his kind for years.”

  She’d been hopelessly outmatched. It was a good thing on many levels that Couch hadn’t tried to attack her because she couldn’t have done anything to stop him.

  “Tell us about your mom’s assault.” Trax’s tone turned deadly serious.

  She’d already confessed that she wanted the man dead, so it wouldn’t do any harm to tell them the truth. “The first time Harvey Couch raped my mother was twenty years ago. As a result she got pregnant, but my brother was stillborn. She went into a postpartum depression that caused my father to leave us.” She inhaled to swallow the rage. “A few months ago, Couch returned. Only this time he didn’t seem content to rape her once more. The bastard came back week after week.” Tears streamed down her face.

  They exchanged glances, but Trax was the one to continue the interrogation. “We’re terribly sorry. Do you have proof it was Couch?”

  She stood, retrieved her purse, and pulled out her mother’s diary. “Yes. Last week, my mother committed suicide because she couldn’t take it anymore. I found this in her drawer.” She was proud she was able to state that fact without faltering. “I’ll read a little bit to you if that’s okay.”

  “Please do.”

  She inhaled to muster the courage to go through the horror of that night. “This is dated twenty years ago. Dear Diary,

  “I don’t know if I can go on. The absolute worst thing in my life happened last night and I can’t tell anyone. Not even Brian.”

  Liz closed the diary for a minute but kept her finger in the spine. She hesitated to read farther, but the men wouldn’t help her get Couch unless they heard the whole story. “Brian’s my dad. If my mom wouldn’t even tell him, it must have been bad. My father said in the beginning of their marriage, they’d shared everything.”

  Trax nodded to the book. “There’s more I trust?”

  “Yes. A lot.”

  She opened the book again and read.

  “Brian was out of town on business, and I was in bed reading when I heard a noise in the kitchen. I thought maybe he’d come home a few days early. When nothing else sounded, I assumed it was my imagination so I went back to my book. That’s when the nightmare started. A tall shadow appeared in my doorway. It was Harvey Couch grinning at me like I was some prize. I pulled the sheet up over my chest and asked him why he was there even though I knew. The man was pure evil.”

  Liz swallowed hard. “The next few pages detail the rape. It’s horrifying.” She slammed the book shut as tears streamed down her face. She cried not only for what her mom had gone through but also because her mother had suffered the cruelty and degradation by herself. Liz sniffled and decided to paraphrase instead of read. The memory of her mom became too alive when she saw the words. “My mom wrote that because Harvey Couch was so wealthy, she believed if she went to authorities to turn him in, his lawyers would say she instigated it. After all, they’d spent weeks together while she showed him homes.”

  Liz shut her eyes and imagined how horrifying that must have been for a woman alone. “Couch might have been pissed at my mom for some reason, but whatever the alleged offense, rape wasn’t the answer.”

  “What did the diary say about the recent attack?” Dante asked.

  Sh
e sniffled. “The entries became more sparse, but she named Couch as her rapist again.” Liz opened the book. “The bastard came again and raped me. Couch laughed and said if I talked he’d ruin Liz and anyone else I care about.” She closed her eyes. “The entries are blank for the next two weeks, but then she wrote, ‘He’s here again. This is the third time this month. I’m not sure I can take much more of this.’”

  She shut the book one final time. “My mom killed herself a week later.”

  Both men came over, sat next to her, and rubbed her hand. “We’re so sorry,” Dante said. “Couch is a bad man, but killing him isn’t the answer.”

  Easy for him to say. “What would you have done?”

  Dante’s lips firmed and turned down in a frown. “Me? I would have shot the bastard.”

  She almost smiled at his vehemence. “So what can I do now?”

  Trax stood and held out his hand. “You need to come with us. It’s not safe here.”

  She nodded to Trax’s holster. “Does your gun have the right bullets?”

  He placed a hand on his weapon. “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. I want some. The next time I won’t try to poison him first.”

  “Babe, that just ain’t going to happen. You want to pack a bag, or do I have to carry you out of here?”

  She didn’t like him taking away her choices. She would stay. Now more than ever, she’d have to be more careful. “I’m not going anywhere with you two. For all I know, you’ll lock me in your house and call the authorities.”

  “We are the authorities.”

  Her stomach tumbled. “You told me you weren’t.” They lied?

  “We’re not with any organization you know. We kind of take the law into our own hands.”

  “So, are you vigilantes?” In a way, she liked that idea, but if they went off half-cocked, no telling what they might do. No. She was safer here. If she thought someone was following her, she could stay with Chelsea. Crap. What would that accomplish? They’d just kill her, too.