The Better to Bite (Howl #1)(15)

I thought Rafe said something else, but I couldn’t hear him. Maybe I didn’t want to hear him.

He spun the motorcycle around. A shower of dust and dirt rose in our wake. Then the bike pushed forward, and we snaked off that little path. The main road curved and shifted, and with every move, I had to inch a little closer to Rafe, had to hold on a little tighter. He was driving faster than he should, and I wondered if he was doing that so I had to hold tight.

We cleared one more curve, and then I saw the flashing police lights. Two deputy cars. My dad stood near his vehicle, and he glanced up at the sound of the motorcycle’s snarling engine.

I knew trouble when I saw it. So did my dad.

Rafe braked, and yanked off his helmet. Much, much slower, I removed mine. “What’s going on?” Rafe demanded and the worry in his voice gave me a moment’s pause.

My dad’s cold gaze raked over him, then came to rest on me. His blond eyebrows rose, and I knew I was toast. “Nice bus, Anna.”

“I, um, missed the bus?” I tried for innocence.

Those eyebrows didn’t lower.

I tried again. “He’s our neighbor, Dad, he was just giving me a ride—”

“I know exactly who Rafe is.” Sometimes, icicles could drip from my dad’s voice.

Other voices rose and fell, and two deputies emerged from the brush. They were carrying a big bag, sort of like the kind that folks would put their suits in when they went on trips. Long, black, thick.

My stomach clenched.

“What’s in the bag?” Rafe demanded.

I knew what was in the bag, and I suspected Rafe knew, too. I climbed off the motorcycle. Now I could see a few more people at the scene. A forest ranger was on the right, near the edge of the road. He was talking into his phone.

“A ranger found remains in the woods today.”

I wondered who they’d found. Dad wouldn’t be telling me, not in front of Rafe.

Before I could speak, a deputy came up and slapped my dad on the back. The deputy had more than a bit of a bulge near his stomach—too many doughnuts—and small, snapping black eyes. “Another animal attack, huh, Sheriff? That’s the second kill we found this week! I’m thinking we might need to open us an early huntin’ season on—”

“Deputy!”

I saw Rafe stiffen.

My dad took a deep breath. “Deputy Hollis, go secure the scene.”

The deputy glanced my way, and he finally seemed to realize that, whoops, civilians were there. “Yes, sir.”

The black bag was loaded into the back of a van. Wait, was that an ME’s van? I hadn’t even realized that Haven had its own ME. Almost impressive.

“Go wait in my car, Anna,” My dad told me in his no-arguing, dead-serious voice.

I glanced at him, then at Rafe. I knew when to pick my battles. Besides, I wanted to get as far away from Rafe as I could right then.

I can’t. How insulting was that?

Between the body and my boiling rage, I needed to get away from everything right then. “Thanks for the ride,” I managed to say to Rafe.

His head inclined. I brushed by him.

I didn’t look back, well, not until I was at my dad’s car. Then I risked a fast glance over my shoulder. My dad had leaned in real close to Rafe, and I could tell by the expressions on their faces that they were both angry. Then Rafe spun away, jumped on his motorcycle, and roared down the road.

Not the smartest move when so many deputies were nearby. Surprisingly, no one gave chase.

When my dad turned back to look at me, I expected to see more anger on his face. Instead, I just saw fear.

Unease rippled beneath my skin as I wondered what could make my dad—a man who’d taken out cold-blooded killers—afraid?

I didn’t think I wanted to know.





Chapter Four


Friday night in Haven. Party time.

Or, game time.

The roar of the crowd filled my ears as everyone around me shot to their feet. The football players burst through the giant “Murder Mayville!” sign, ripping and shredding the decorated sheet as they launched onto the field.

Jenny jumped up and down beside me, shouting her heart out. Shouting mostly for Troy.

Seriously?

I rubbed my head. Dad almost hadn’t let me come out tonight. The guy had put me on lockdown for the last two days. So I’d slipped away from the bus and driven home with Rafe—did that really require a freak-out?

According to him, yes. Extreme yes.

“They are so hot!” Jenny collapsed onto the bleacher. “Look at the way the uniform shows off their butts—isn’t that just awesome?”

It was the first game of the season, and the field behind the school was packed. The cheerleaders clapped their way down the line of bleachers, and the crowd began to chant along with them.

I didn’t know a word of these chants. My claps were off rhythm. I was so out of my element.

I’d been to football games before. I’d lost bets and had to back in Chicago. But football just wasn’t for me.

“Look!” Jenny’s fingers clamped onto my arm. Luckily, she clamped down a few inched below my claw marks. “There’s Brent!”

His head bent as he listened to the coach. He had black paint spread under each eye, and his helmet hung loosely from his right hand. In that green jersey and wearing those tight, white pants, I had to admit that Jenny was right.