True Colors (Elder Races #3.5)(11)

Alice looked over her shoulder at him, chagrined. “You knew I was there? You didn’t just identify me by my scent when I got to the street?”

He corrected her, “I had the instinct you were there. I didn’t know for sure. I went across the street to the deli and watched the building entrance from there. Where were you hiding?”

“Do you remember the braided ficus?”

He gave her a blank look. “The what?”

“The potted plant that sat on the floor in the corner of the front hallway and the living room.” She fluffed the curls at the back of her neck self-consciously. “I was hiding in the leaves.”

A grin broke across his hard features. “Damn, you were right there. Well done. I remember brushing against that tree when I went into the living room. How big are you in your Wyr form?”

She felt a ridiculous burst of pleasure from his praise. “I’m about the length of your forearm. Maybe smaller if I curl my tail up around my body.”

“Is that why you have so many potted trees in your living room?” He regarded her with such pleasure that warmth touched her cheeks again.

She nodded and confessed, “Sometimes I like to hang out in the trees while I watch TV.”

He burst out laughing. “Of course, why not?” Startled, she felt even more self-conscious. He told her, “Sometimes my wolf likes to hang out and chew on a bone. There are these really tasty beef-basted ones you can get at Wyr Foods.”

She smiled. Wyr Foods was a specialty spin-off of the Whole Foods grocery chain. She shopped there, too. She looked at the items she had pulled out of the fridge. A carton of eggs, a package of bacon, veggies, cheese. All right. It looked like she was making an omelet. Wait, she had a couple packages of hash browns in the freezer. She guessed he could eat the full dozen eggs, plenty of bacon, both packages of hash browns, and have room to enjoy toast as well.

She pulled out an omelet pan, a skillet for the bacon, and a sauté pan with deeper sides for the hash browns. Then she rinsed vegetables for the omelet and began to chop them—onion, green bell pepper, mushrooms, and tomatoes.

Gideon watched her work. She looked calmer and more peaceful already as she moved with confidence around her kitchen. Come to think of it, he felt calmer and more peaceful just watching her. She was a beautiful woman in a wholly understated way. It showed in the graceful movements of her slim hands and the delicate bones of her wrists, in the quiet dignity in her intelligent face and that wholly incongruous, wild thing going on with her rich dark hair.

He loved that hair. He had an insane desire, akin to the wolf’s running fits—he wanted to pull every one of those corkscrew curls out and watch them spring back into place, to bury his face in it and tickle her until her sadness and dignity broke apart and she laughed herself breathless.

His c**k had stiffened again. Donkey’s round hairy ass. He took a deep breath and flipped one of the chairs around so he could sit in it backward. It had the benefit of hiding the bulge in his jeans. He crossed his arms across the back of the chair and dangled his bottle of Corona from the fingers of one hand. He took a pull from his drink and drop-kicked his mind back to work.

He said, “Ready to continue?”

Alice didn’t look up from her vegetable chopping. She nodded.

“Do you know about what happened in Florida seven years ago?”

Her mouth tightened. “Every rainbow chameleon Wyr knows what happened in Florida. They were our friends and family.”

Gideon closed his eyes briefly and kicked himself some more. “Of course they were,” he said gently.

She scooped the chopped vegetables from the cutting board into a warmed skillet. They sizzled and the aroma of cooking food filled the kitchen. She said, “Do you think it’s the same killer?”

Why prevaricate? He said, “Yeah, I do. Since the Jacksonville killer was never caught, a lot of the details from those murders were never released but whoever killed Haley used the same methodology.”

She sent him a wide-eyed glance. “Methodology?”

“The killer was very methodical. He masked his scent with a chemical agent that hunters use, and while we don’t have a crime scene report yet on Haley, I’m betting he didn’t leave any fingerprints behind. The Jacksonville killer didn’t either. Each victim died by a stab wound to the heart. It’s very neatly done, then their abdominal cavities are excavated. The organs are always placed outside their bodies in the same pattern.”

Her hand, still holding the spatula, dropped to her side as her face worked. He moved across the room fast to hold her from behind in a firm grip. She whispered, “H-Haley was dead before he did that to her?”

“Yes,” he said in a strong voice. “The killer has some other agenda besides torture. I promise you, Alice. She didn’t suffer.”

She breathed hard, fighting for control. She said, “Thank you for that. I’m all right.”

He released her and stepped back. Not too far, just a couple of steps. Then he stood out of her line of sight, watching her jerky movements as she cooked with his hands fisted at his sides. There was only so much he could do to help, and it was making him a little bat-shit. “Ready for a break?” he asked, hoping she would say yes.

“No.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Please continue.”

“You said your principal, Alex Schaffer, was the one who broke the news of Peter Baines’ death to you and Haley, and he’s also the one who spread the news that David Brunswick had gone missing, correct?” He waited for her nod then continued. “Why Schaffer?”