Unspoken (Shadow Falls: After Dark #3)(67)

Chase’s steps faltered and just like that a fine sheen of sweat popped out around his neck. Well, shit! Not fifteen minutes after signing his contract, he wondered if it was too soon to resign.

*

“Are we going to the bar?” Della asked when Burnett walked back into the room. As far as Della was concerned, it was the best lead they had on Stone.

“No, I’ve got Trish and Shawn going there,” Burnett said.

“But—”

“No,” Burnett said. “And before you ask, I’ve got two agents checking out the telephone number. Meanwhile, they’ve finished the autopsy of the three weres. Perry’s staying here; I thought we could all head over there.”

“Why don’t I go see if I can find any info on the Bastards gang?” Chase offered.

“I’ve got that covered too,” Burnett said. “And you’re on light duty. When we’re done at the morgue, you can go with Della to see Natasha.”

Della noted Chase’s frown. “He doesn’t have to come with me,” Della said.

“It’s a full moon,” Burnett said. “No one goes out alone.”

*

A short ride later, Della walked into the morgue with Chase and Burnett. They walked past the front desk and down a white hall that looked and smelled almost too sterile. He pushed open a heavy door and entered another room. A colder room.

A woman in a white coat stood in the room tapping on a computer. She looked back, and Della saw her witch pattern. Burnett did quick introductions that brought nods.

“Tell me you’ve got something for me,” Burnett said.

“I’ve got something.” She smiled. “A few hairs. I’ve already sent them off. Definitely were-related, and I got a few bite marks that we might be able to use. I just uploaded them.” She motioned Burnett closer.

Della didn’t follow. Instead, she stayed where she was and visually took in the room. Behind the woman were three tables, presumably holding the three young weres. The bodies were draped and covered with white sheets.

The shapes of the bodies reminded her of seeing her cousin’s body in that tarp before they lowered it into the grave. Or was it the smell, she wondered, that took her back? Had Chan’s body and tarp still carried this astringent smell of the morgue?

She inhaled, trying to push the cold, the smell, and the pain away. Then as always, her chest stirred with guilt for moving past the biggest portion of the grief.

She heard Chase shift, standing to her right. When she took in his face, she almost gasped. His complexion matched the sheets.

While it felt good knowing she wasn’t the only one feeling vulnerable, she was surprised. Chase had worked with the council for almost two years; surely he’d seen death before.

“Chase and I are going to wait outside,” Della spoke up and caught Chase’s arm before she gave Burnett a chance to answer. Chase resisted only for a second, then walked out with her.

“New on the job, huh?” she heard the woman say before the door swished closed.

Della stopped in the hall. Chase pulled away and didn’t even look at her. He leaned against the white wall and closed his eyes.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Fine,” he said, his tone as cold as the air that had been in the room.

“You sure?” she asked when he didn’t open his eyes.

“I said I was fine,” he snapped.

“But you look—”

“Friggin’ hell, would you drop it!” He pushed off the wall and started out.

She stood there for a few seconds, trying to decide if she was more angry at his reaction or more worried. Worry won and she took off after him.

She found him leaning against Burnett’s car.

The night had chased away every sliver of color from the sky, but the full moon shone down brightly, giving the parking lot an almost silver glow.

He saw her, and his mutterings of some four-letter words reached her ears, making it clear she wasn’t welcome. She didn’t give a rat’s ass, and she kept on walking toward him.





Chapter Twenty-nine

She was ready to give him some shit, until she got close enough and saw his expression. Pain, grief, guilt. Emotions she’d just pushed away herself.

So she resisted making her snide remarks. Her footsteps sounded too loud. She leaned against the car beside him. Her arm almost touched his. The dark cold surrounded them, and the lukewarm temperature of his body reached her.

For several seconds neither of them spoke. But oddly enough, she could feel his pain.

“It reminded me of Chan,” she said, thinking that if she reached out, he might reach back.

He nodded, and she felt him shift his weight. “I was an ass,” he said, his voice still holding the remnants of anger.

“Yup.” She waited for him to explain.

He didn’t. He didn’t have to, she told herself. She wasn’t a big fan of spilling her guts either.

But she wanted him to. And just how much she wanted him to, scared her. Scared her because it reminded her of how imbalanced, how undefined this thing between them was. She cared, but didn’t want to. She trusted, but not completely.

He shifted again and she glanced at him, only to find him looking at her. But damn, it hurt to see it, the pain lingering in his eyes.