Harmony's Way (Breeds #8)

She took the K-bar and sheathed it slowly, her eyes never leaving him. It was enough for him, but he didn't really believe her.

The smile that pulled at her lips had nothing to do with amusement.

"Yeah, sure, Lance. I'll get ready." She stepped back from him, lifting her chin as she pushed back the disillusionment, the pain. "I'll even hurry." _________

Lance watched her leave, his chest clenching painfully as he searched for the answers he needed in the air around him. It was strangely quiet. There were no echoes of cries or of innocence, as though the winds had deserted him. She wouldn't lie to him, but that wouldn't stop Jonas. And now, when he needed the whispers in the air, they were gone. God, didn't that just figure. Not that he believed she had actually committed the crime. Once she denied it, he knew she hadn't. But someone had, and they were damned determined to frame Harmony for it. His teeth ground together as he forced himself to the shower rather than follow Harmony.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? He had to ask her, he had to know if she had done it. Not that he would have blamed her if she had. He knew her, knew the demons that rode her, and he knew how hard this had to be on her.

Jaime Mason was a tiny little kid for his age. He was always dirty, and always terrified. Liza, his mother, wasn't much better. Both were too young to know how the hell to handle the fear Tommy Mason could mete out. And that was something he knew haunted Harmony. That weakness and fear. The knowledge that monsters used it so easily.

Biting back his curse, he rushed through his shower, forcing himself to wake up, to think. This was going to turn into a nightmare if he wasn't damned careful. He could feel it. Jonas wouldn't be able to keep from using this against her.

Harmony was waiting for him half an hour later when he strode through the hallway. Leaning against the kitchen doorway, her thumbs braced in the wide, leather belt strapped across her hips.

"Let's go," he said. "I want to get there before the scene gets too cold." She followed behind him silently.

"Did you see anyone when you left the house?" he asked as the doors to the Raider closed.

"I didn't see anyone. I could smell Jonas's man Lawe from the front of the house, but I doubt he saw me. I didn't want to be followed."

"Sometimes, you're a little too independent," he growled. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Oh, because I'm a big girl." She waved her hand mockingly. "And I didn't want to argue over a simple run."

"A simple run that could have ended in your kidnapping?"

"Maybe. It was a chance I took. I won't accept a cage. Not of any sort. Not even for you."

His hands clenched on the steering wheel. "Even if it means your safety?"

"My safety wasn't involved," she said softly. "If it had been, you would have been warned. The winds speak to you. You would have awakened before I slipped from the house."

He turned to her slowly. She was staring straight ahead, her features perfectly composed, but he could feel the pain radiating from her.

"Someone saw you leave the house," he said softly. "They used your need to run to frame you for a murder that's going to bring Jonas down on your ass. You're not alone anymore, Harmony. It's not you against the world. It's both of us. And maybe it's time you start considering that."

She was going to drive him to a stroke if this happened on a regular basis. Deliberately placing her life in danger, knowing the odds were stacked against her, and pitting herself against them anyway.

He wasn't experienced enough in the messages the wind brought him; he had yet to take his grandfather up on the training that would aid him in calling the wind to him. Until he knew he could protect her, knew the winds would call to him if she was away from him, in enough time to save her, then he couldn't relax.

As he turned the Raider onto the main road, he glanced at her silent profile. She was so fucking used to being alone, to answering to no one. This would be hard on her, and once she learned she had conceived, it would be even harder on both of them. Restraining the need to return home, to reassure her, Lance pressed his foot to the gas pedal instead and sped to the Mason home. The evidence against her could be too easily used. And Lance knew Jonas; he would use it. Whatever he wanted from Harmony, this would play right into his plans.

The wound was consistent with the bartender's. Harmony hunched down and tilted her head, staring at where the cut began. From left to right, beginning just under the left ear and ending in an upward angle just below the right ear. The murderer was strong, strong enough to hold Tommy Mason still by his head while he made the cut. From the angle, she could tell Mason's head had been tilted back against something. Harmony braced her forearms on her knees and narrowed her eyes as she tracked the wound. It was very neatly made, precise. The blade was most definitely a K-bar, but it hadn't been specially modified. Her blade held an edge that even the Special Forces members who carried them didn't attain.

Someone hadn't done their homework. But it didn't surprise her that she was being framed. Someone knew she was here, which meant Jonas hadn't found his little spy at Sanctuary.

"You know, that position is just wrong on so many levels, Harmony." Harmony lifted her gaze to Lance as he stepped into the bedroom, eyeing her as she straddled Mason's body.

"The lighting is better," she murmured. "Someone isn't taking proper care of their blade. Come here."

He stepped over to the body.

Harmony used the pencil she had borrowed from a deputy earlier and pointed close to the jagged tear of the otherwise neat upper slice.

"There's a knick in his blade. A pretty good one. If you noticed earlier…"

"I noticed…" His voice overcut her words.

She gave him a quizzical look, meeting the narrowing of his gaze. She nodded slowly. Was the room bugged? She stared around the bare bedroom. There was a double bed; the sheets were filthy, the blankets torn. In a corner was a small dresser, other than that, the room was empty.

"Dave said Tommy Mason's stats show him as exactly…" She checked her notebook.

"Five feet, eleven inches. Your killer is six-four. Based on the angle of the bartender's wound, as well as this one, there won't be more than an inch plus or minus margin there."

She stared down closely at Tommy Mason once again.

"There are no defensive wounds on his hands, so he didn't have time to fight. The attack came from the back, definitely. The angle is different if you attack from the front. And there's a very faint earthy scent on his body. It's not natural to his particular stink. I'm guessing your killer spent some time lying in damp ground before he came in."

"Liza said Tommy hustled them into the basement so he could meet with someone. Someone he didn't want them to see. She said he was prone to do that though."

"No witnesses." She nodded. "It saved her life." She rose to her feet slowly.

"Is the killer a Breed?" Lance asked as she stepped clear.

"Doubtful. Breeds can't cover their natural scent if they touch anything. Whoever killed him was holding him real close and personal for several seconds. The scent would still be on his clothes."

"I have a report of a Breed who can hide that scent." He posed the idea carefully.

"When needed."

Harmony shrugged. "There's a few cases where scent was able to be temporarily disguised by a Breed. But not like this." She waved her hand to the body. "To hide all traces the Breed would have had to attack from the front. This was a sneak attack. And he held his victim for a second or two, savored the kill."

Lance glanced back at the body. "The blood on the front of his clothes," he said. "If the killer had dropped him immediately, it would have run in a different pattern."

"Yep." She stuck the pencil the deputy had given her behind her ear before brushing her hands off and staring around the room again. "Whoever it was is careful though." She pointed to the open window. "All the windows have been opened just enough to allow the air to circulate well, diffusing scents. He was going to make certain he couldn't be detected by me."

There were ways to hide from another Breed, tricks she had learned over the years in her battle to stay at least one step ahead of the Coyotes.

"We have a footprint beneath the window you went through the other night, but nothing else. He's careful, Harmony. Too damned careful."

The window could be coincidence, but hell, she just didn't believe in coincidences. Someone besides her friendly neighborhood Bureau Lion Breed was watching her.

"He knew I was out of the house this morning," she mused, keeping her voice low as Lance leaned in closer to her. "How many of these assholes are watching me anyway?

It's a wonder they aren't tripping over each other. There's no way the killer could have been watching and then set up a meeting. No time. He would have needed a partner."

"No doubt. Liza said Tommy hadn't expected the meeting," Lance said before asking,

"Are you finished here?"

She breathed out silently. "I can't find anything, Lance. Whoever did this is being damned careful so far. He knows the tricks."

And something about that tugged at her memory. It was like a subtle itch just between her shoulder blades. An awareness, a familiarity she wasn't certain of. She had perfect recall; her memory was a tool in and of itself. It wasn't a photographic memory, but Harmony did not forget details. Until now.

"Let's get to the office then and get the report filed. David has the investigation, and until something else breaks, you're off patrol."

"But Jonas…"

"Fuck Jonas," Lance snarled as they left the house, his hand lying against her lower back, as his big body seemed to hover over her. "I'll deal with him."

"I hear he's a wham-bam man; you wouldn't enjoy the experience I don't believe." She turned her hand over, checked her nails, then preceded him to the Raider.

"A wham-bam man," he repeated slowly. "God, I didn't need that thought in my head." He seemed to shudder as she opened the vehicle door and jumped inside. As Harmony moved to close the door, Lance stepped between it and the seat, bending to stare back at her. She met his gaze evenly, wondering if the anger simmering inside her showed in her eyes.

Perhaps she shouldn't be angry. If he wanted to accept Death and Harmony together, who was she to complain?

"Out with it before we get to the office," he ordered, his voice deepening into that alpha tone that seemed to click in her brain and her pussy at the same time.

"Out with what?" Harmony glared back at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's why you're on the edge of hissing?" he grunted. "Don't bother lying to me, Harmony."

"Why, because the wind is going to tell you the truth?"

"Oh baby, I don't need the damned wind to whisper that one." He pushed his face closer to hers, anger simmering in his gaze. "I can look at your face and tell when you're lying to me."

She pressed her lips together stubbornly. The way he'd acted this morning, that was hard to believe.

"Now would be a good time to start speaking," he snapped. "Because that look just makes me hard, and it makes me just determined enough to consider fucking the answer out of you."

She almost moaned at the thought of the pleasure. Between one breath and the next her body heated, and searing arousal began to pound through her blood. Praying he couldn't see the response in her face, she continued to stare back at him silently. Thankfully, she was able to hold back her hiss.