Burn For Me (Phoenix Fire 1)

He couldn’t.

The laughter faded from her face. “Maybe I lied before. Maybe I just don’t have a heart.”

Eve sighed from behind him. “And maybe you’re just bullshitting.” She shoved Cain aside. “She wears a special vest under her clothes, okay? One that mutes the sound so that no one else can hear it.”

Dru gave a little shrug. “An unfortunate encounter with a vampire a few years ago. Even though he’s rotting in the ground, it’s made me a bit . . . obsessive . . . about a few things.”

“Yeah,” Eve muttered, “but maybe instead of worrying so much about your scent and heartbeat, you should look into investing in a new door and store alarm.” She cleared her throat and slapped her hand on the counter. “But right now, I need you to help me.”

“And I should because . . . ?”

“Because it was my story that put your freak of a stepfather on death row.” Eve bared her teeth. “You’re welcome. Now pay me back, and I’ll get my butt out of your shop.”

Dru’s hand tightened around the gun, but she slowly lowered the weapon to the countertop. “What do you want?”

Eve backed up and hit the lights. When the illumination flooded on, Cain saw the sketches and photographs that lined the wall behind Dru’s head.

“No one inks wolves quite like you.” Eve’s voice was flat.

Cain frowned and searched the pictures. He saw half a dozen wolves scattered in the images. Some were hunting. Howling. Running.

“Even when they’re supposed to look like monsters, the eyes give them away. Your eyes are always different.”

Cain’s own eyes narrowed. He could see what Eve was talking about. The lines drawn for the wolves’ eyes . . . were distinctive. Not an animal. A human gaze.

“It’s like a fingerprint. I saw your fingerprint last night.” Eve’s voice came faster. “I saw your fingerprint on the right inner wrist of a man who locked me in a room and watched while I burned.”

Dru swallowed.

“He was military, don’t know if he was current or discharged, but the guy moved like Special Ops. Controlled. Dangerous. He was six foot two, about two hundred twenty pounds, with dark hair and scars that cut across the right side of his face—”

Dru held up her hand. “You should have started with the scars.” She bent beneath the counter. Pulled out a heavy, black book, and began flipping through the sketches. She stopped and her finger tapped on the image of two wolves.

One wolf had just killed the other. The victor stared back, fangs glinting. Eyes shining.

“He hated the way I did the eyes,” Dru said and her lips pulled down in a frown. “Asshole thought he’d get his money back because I made the wolf look like he had a soul.”

And monsters weren’t supposed to have souls.

“The guy’s a Ranger.” Dru flipped the book around so Eve could scan the notes she’d jotted next to the image. “Name’s Damon Tyler. And I even have his address for you.”

An address Cain had already memorized. He knew this town pretty well, and he knew where to find that street.

“Now are we done?” Dru demanded. “Does this square us up?”

Eve nodded and backed up. “Thank you.” She turned away and Cain followed at her back.

“I should thank you. . . .” Dru’s voice was soft. Far more subdued.

Cain paused when Eve glanced over her shoulder at the other woman.

A grim smile lifted Dru’s lips. “My stepfather really was a freak—and I’m counting down the days until the needle goes into his arm.” Her lips tightened. “But you might want to move faster, Eve, ’cause I set off my alarm as soon as you kicked my door, and the cops are gonna be here any minute.”

Eve’s face tensed. “Don’t tell them I was here.”

Dru nodded.

Eve took Cain’s hand, and the move surprised him so much that he let her drag him from the shop. A few moments later, they were in the vehicle, driving away. Not too fast—why look guilty? He was heading straight for the Ranger who damn well would take them to Wyatt.

“Told you I could find him,” Eve said, staring out the window. “Guess I’m not so useless after all.”

He stiffened. Had he called her that? He hadn’t meant . . .

“We find Damon, we find Wyatt. The bastard won’t see us coming until it’s too late. He’ll be the hunted one now.”

Cain drove in silence, then he had to know. “What did her stepfather do?”

“He liked to cut up girls. The younger, the better.” She pulled in a rough breath. “Dru . . . had a little sister. She went missing, just like two other girls had in her neighborhood.”

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. A needle in the arm was too good for the prick. “You knew it was him?”

“Dru did. She came to me because I was the only reporter in town who’d listen to her.” A sad laugh. “Maybe because I was the newest one then?”

No, he thought it was more than her just being the new kid on the block who’d been hungry for a story.

“She’d tried going to the cops, but Leon was too good at playing the grieving father. He was also very good at not leaving evidence behind.”

“How’d you catch him?” Cain drove easily, but his attention was on Eve.

“Humans couldn’t find his tracks. Supernaturals could.” A brief pause. “I used a shifter to sniff him out . . . and to help me find the bodies.” Silence, then . . . “I never want to see graves that small ever again.”

Cain’s gaze cut to her.

Her lips trembled. But then she shook her head as if trying to shake off the memory. “I took the cops to the bodies. Said I’d had a source call me. There was enough DNA left behind that we could tie the bastard to the killings. He’s been on death row for five years, and it’s time for him to go to hell.”

“Dru knew you used a shifter to help you.”

“That’s why she can’t ever make wolves look like the monsters most people think they are. To Dru, the shifters were the heroes.”

And she always showed that in their eyes.

Cain slowed the car as he neared the small, ranch-style house located at the end of Branchline Road.

Eve cleared her throat. “So . . . who gets to play good cop when we go inside?”

He killed the engine. Turned his head to slowly glance her way. “I’ve never been good.”