Running Free (Woodland Creek)(13)

The kiss is smoky, a hint of smoked hotdog in her taste, but it’s also electric. I devour every moan that spills from her. My God, it’s heaven kissing this woman. One of her palms finds my cheek and her fingers flutter over the unshaved shadow there. I want her hands all over me.

As we kiss, both of us barely stopping to breathe, my dick thickens with every brush of our lips and tangle of our tongues. Visions of carrying her into my bedroom and f*cking her into tomorrow are on the forefront of my mind. But, despite having not been laid in a while, I’d also be happy sprawled out on the bed doing just this like a couple of horny teenagers.

A crack of lightening nearby jerks us both from our kiss and Frankie blushes. Does a girl like her even blush? The pink on her cheeks is hot as f*ck and I’ve convinced myself now that if she goes to my room there’ll be more f*cking than kissing.

“I should go. My tires are old and don’t do well in the rain. Plus,” she exhales, “you need sleep.”

I’m not eager to let her go but she’s right. My dick aches for relief but I ignore it and press a soft kiss on her cheek near her ear. “Fine, you win. But we’re doing this again. And soon.”




A crack of thunder rattles the windows in the house causing Cutie Pie to yelp and jerk me from my sleep.

“It’s okay, little guy,” I murmur, letting him snuggle up under my arm.

Absently, I stroke him while I think about Frankie. The woman intrigues me to no end. I’ve lived my life for the better part of a decade interrogating people. And, even though I refrain from laying the questions on her, I can see she hides so much of herself from everyone.

At some point, I will peel away those layers.

I’ll discover the woman beneath the armor.

I will make love to her and make her mine.

That, I can feel in my gut.

With a groan, I roll over and pick up my phone that’s plugged into the nightstand. My shift doesn’t start for another hour but I’ve missed several calls from Fitz.

“Shit,” I hiss out as I sit up and dial him back.

“About damn time.” His annoyance in me has my hackles rising because give me a f*cking break, my shift hasn’t even started.

“What?” I bite out, delivering back just as much attitude.

He shuffles some papers and grumbles. “Gun, the coroner found something on both the bodies.”

My brows furrow with wonder and I climb out of bed on a hunt for clothes. “And this couldn’t have waited?” I complain. “Well, stop beating around the damn bush. What’d he find, Fitz?”

“By the way they were cut open and disemboweled, I had him search not only weapons but also other possibilities.”

I saunter into the bathroom and catch a peek at my reflection in the mirror. Shadowed cheeks a little sunken in are proof of a lacking appetite since the divorce. Dark bags under bloodshot eyes are proof of one too many days with little to no sleep. I’m falling apart here.

“What possibilities?”

He sighs. “The lacerations are consistent with the claws of a bear.”

I snap to attention. “Bear? You’re f*cking kidding me, right?”

“Nope.”

“So we’re on the lookout for a homicidal wild animal?”

“Yep.”

“Jesus, Fitz. Call the goddamned animal control or the forest ranger. Why are we even still talking about this case?”

I turn on the water for the shower and slam my eyes shut. This town is so different from Chicago. There’re many times I consider moving back. And this is one of them.

“Gun, meet me at Woodland Pond. We got a call about another teenage body.”

Well, shit.

“I’m on my way.”





Frankie

I’m f*cking exhausted.

After a late night last night running the woods looking for answers about Acey’s death, I didn’t get much sleep. When Gun suggested I nap with him, I seriously considered it.

What would it have felt like to simply sleep with his massive arms curled around me?

The image rattles my chest and the tight sensation within is a foreign one. A part of me is pissed at the fact I’m a f*cking shifter and can’t have normal relationships. If I were a normal woman, I’d have jumped on that man already and given my body to him a thousand times by now.

He’s sexy and confident.

Strong and sure.

Intelligent and funny.

Protective and sweet.

Everything I didn’t know that attracted me to a man.

But a shifter and a human together is unheard of. Against some unspoken code. Simply wrong.

Besides, I couldn’t have stayed with him anyway. I had something bigger to deal with. Curly Sue was not some puppy who needed adopting. The toy poodle was not a poodle at all. She was a Poodle shifter and scared out of her wits.

As I swipe a rag over the bar, cleaning up some spilled beer, I glance in her direction. She sits perched at one of the tables devouring a cheeseburger and drawing. Her black, curly hair is wild on top of her head and the clothes I let her wear hang on her small frame. I asked her what her real name was, and she had burst into tears.

“I’m no longer that girl.”

Twelve. Just like I was.

“I want to be Curly Sue.”