Running Free (Woodland Creek)(18)

“She punched him in the nose. I’d say he got the short end of the stick, man,” he grunts out in reply.

“He got what he deserved,” I bark back. “Basically, he threatened rape and she let his ass know real quickly that she wasn’t some defenseless girl. He’s probably embarrassed and afraid. And if he did want to get back at her, then he’d do it where it hurt her the most. I’m not saying he had anything to do with these ‘bear attacks,’ but I am certain that I’m not going to ignore the only lead we have at the moment.”

Fitz nods in agreement. “Tomorrow, I’ll call Port Lipman. He’s a Craft County forest ranger and an old buddy of mine from high school. I’ll see if he won’t work with us to find out if he can track any bears or other large animals.”

“It’s probably too late to visit Jared, but I’m going to drive by his residence and see if I find anything fishy,” I tell him as I snag my keys off the desk. “Oh, and Fitz, you might want to patrol around town as well. Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

He stands from his own desk and tugs on his jacket. “TJ already has two officers in squad cars sitting at two different locations on Woodland Pond. He thinks it might prevent any more murders from happening if there is visible police surveillance.”

I grunt out my agreement. “Good call. Let me know what you find out in the morning.”

“You got it, Gun.”

After a wave, I trot out to my Tahoe and climb in. The drive to Jared’s is a quiet one and it gives me time to think about Frankie. I feel like an animal around her. My body craves to mark and protect her — to claim her as mine. When I was with Carla, despite having loved her, I never had such a visceral reaction.

With Frankie, I’m hooked on the drug that is her.

As I pull onto Jared’s street in the mobile home park, my eyes are drawn to the trailer at the end. Five cars line the street out front and several guys are wrestling in the yard. Good. That idiot is still up partying. I’m going to interrogate the *.

For intimidation purposes, I grab my shotgun from the back and climb out after. The men, and a few ladies, are laughing and shouting, so much so, that they don’t notice my arrival. The intoxicating scent of weed infiltrates my senses and I shake my head. I’m not here about drugs. I’m here about murder.

“WCPD. Which one of you is Jared Thurston?” I bark out, flashing my badge to the group.

They grow silent, whispering amongst themselves. I don’t have to wait long before a big motherf*cker emerges from middle.

“I am. I ain’t done nothing wrong either.” His voice is steady and bold. As he approaches, he squares his shoulders at me and pins me with an icy glare. Tattoos crawl up his neck and are visible on his arms beneath his white tank top which screams trailer trash. His shaved head only adds to the crazy glint in his eye.

Cocking my shotgun, I stop him with a menacing stare. “That’s close enough Mr. Thurston.”

He pauses and fists his hands at his sides. His friends have slowly begun to slink away back toward the confines of the trailer, leaving him to deal with his problems alone. However, two of the men stand nearby smoking, their eyes never leaving the scene between us.

“Where were you this afternoon between five and seven?” I question.

He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. The diner probably.”

I shake my head. “Probably won’t cut it. Was anyone there to back this up?”

One of his goons waves his hand. “We ate dinner with him. My old lady works at the diner and will tell you the same.”

Jared grunts in agreement.

“Can you tell me about the night Frances Aleen hit you?” I question, unable to keep the bite out of my voice.

He lifts his chin and the moonlight reflects off of his crooked-ass nose. “What’s that got to do with anythin’?”

“Just answer the damn question.”

His friends edge closer and I grip my shotgun, making eyes with each one of them who dares them to do anything stupid.

“She was being a dumb bitch and couldn’t take a joke. Then she hit me,” he seethes.

“Because you threatened her,” I snap.

“I ain’t threatened nobody.”

We have a silent standoff; him sticking by his lie and me glaring at him and his apparent untruth.

I break the silence with an angry hiss. “Don’t lay one goddamn finger on her, got it?”

He smirks and my heart surges with the desire to give him a black eye to match his stupid nose.

“She’s all yours, copper. I hear she’s a biter… ” The three men start yelping and howling like f*cking lunatics.

Before I do something that will have me losing my job, I growl out a f*ck you, *, and storm back to my Tahoe.





Frankie

I stare in the mirror above my bathroom sink and frown. My eyes are bloodshot from lack of sleep and dark circles are forming beneath them. I look like absolute shit due to lack of sleep. Last night, all I could think about was him. The way it felt when my soul threaded itself with his. It was out of my control. I’d done the absolute worst and I had no way of preventing it.

Imprinted.

On Gunnar Fucking Mason.

An image of his crooked smirk and dark eyes sends a flurry of heated butterflies bouncing around in my belly. Why’d it have to be him? A human.