“The guy’s a Ranger.” Dru flipped the book around so Eve could scan the notes she’d jotted next to the image. “Name’s Damon Tyler. And I even have his address for you.”
An address Cain had already memorized. He knew this town pretty well, and he knew where to find that street.
“Now are we done?” Dru demanded. “Does this square us up?”
Eve nodded and backed up. “Thank you.” She turned away and Cain followed at her back.
“I should thank you… .” Dru’s voice was soft. Far more subdued.
Cain paused when Eve glanced over her shoulder at the other woman.
A grim smile lifted Dru’s lips. “My stepfather really was a freak—and I’m counting down the days until the needle goes into his arm.” Her lips tightened. “But you might want to move faster, Eve, ’cause I set off my alarm as soon as you kicked my door, and the cops are gonna be here any minute.”
Eve’s face tensed. “Don’t tell them I was here.”
Dru nodded.
Eve took Cain’s hand, and the move surprised him so much that he let her drag him from the shop. A few moments later, they were in the vehicle, driving away. Not too fast—why look guilty? He was heading straight for the Ranger who damn well would take them to Wyatt.
“Told you I could find him,” Eve said, staring out the window. “Guess I’m not so useless after all.”
He stiffened. Had he called her that? He hadn’t meant …
“We find Damon, we find Wyatt. The bastard won’t see us coming until it’s too late. He’ll be the hunted one now.”
Cain drove in silence, then he had to know. “What did her stepfather do?”
“He liked to cut up girls. The younger, the better.” She pulled in a rough breath. “Dru … had a little sister. She went missing, just like two other girls had in her neighborhood.”
His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. A needle in the arm was too good for the prick. “You knew it was him?”
“Dru did. She came to me because I was the only reporter in town who’d listen to her.” A sad laugh. “Maybe because I was the newest one then?”
No, he thought it was more than her just being the new kid on the block who’d been hungry for a story.
“She’d tried going to the cops, but Leon was too good at playing the grieving father. He was also very good at not leaving evidence behind.”
“How’d you catch him?” Cain drove easily, but his attention was on Eve.
“Humans couldn’t find his tracks. Supernaturals could.” A brief pause. “I used a shifter to sniff him out … and to help me find the bodies.” Silence, then … “I never want to see graves that small ever again.”
Cain’s gaze cut to her.
Her lips trembled. But then she shook her head as if trying to shake off the memory. “I took the cops to the bodies. Said I’d had a source call me. There was enough DNA left behind that we could tie the bastard to the killings. He’s been on death row for five years, and it’s time for him to go to hell.”
“Dru knew you used a shifter to help you.”
“That’s why she can’t ever make wolves look like the monsters most people think they are. To Dru, the shifters were the heroes.”
And she always showed that in their eyes.
Cain slowed the car as he neared the small, ranch-style house located at the end of Branchline Road.
Eve cleared her throat. “So … who gets to play good cop when we go inside?”
He killed the engine. Turned his head to slowly glance her way. “I’ve never been good.”
She nodded. A ghost of a smile lifted her lips as she reached for her door handle. “Right, then I’ll—”
Cain caught her hand. “You’ll stay behind me.” The guy was a Ranger, trained to kill in more ways than most humans could count. Tyler wasn’t getting close to Eve. “If he’s here, then I’ll be the one to face him.”
“And I’ll—”
“Stand back and not get hurt.”
She stared at him.
“The price of being human,” he murmured.
Her eyes narrowed. “We both know I’m not.”
“We don’t know what you are.” It was eating him up inside, wondering if she was like him.
Eve glanced back at the house. Cain had parked a little ways down the street, but they had a perfect view of 2808 Branchline. “If he’s not home, we’ll search his house,” she said. “We might be able to find intel that we can use.”
The searching part she could handle. He’d do the attacking.
They climbed from the vehicle. Instead of keeping to the shadows of the trees, Cain headed for the guy’s front door.
Eve grabbed his arm. “Uh, have you heard of the subtle approach?”
“I’m more familiar with the ass-kicking approach.” No neighbors were around. Probably all at work. Good. Cain slammed his fist into the door. Heard no sound from inside.
“Here,” he told her, backing up a bit, “I’ll try your routine.”
“Cain, wait—”
His foot drove into the door. His kick was far more effective than hers had been at Death Ink. The wood splintered, and the door flew open.
The human didn’t rush out to attack, but Cain heard a faint groan from inside the house.
He entered the small foyer, then spun to the left and rushed toward that sound. With every step, the scent of blood filled his nose.
Dammit.
He ran into the kitchen and found a human male on the floor, soaked in blood. The man’s hands were spread out beside him, palms up, and the dark tattoo stared back up at Cain.
“I guess someone else wanted him dead, too,” Cain said quietly.
Eve pushed past him and fell to her knees. She put her hands on the man, one hand on his chest, one hand on his neck. “He’s not dead yet.”
With that much blood, he would be. Soon.
Eve grabbed a towel off the counter and shoved it against Damon’s wounds. “He’s been shot, looks like two times.” She leaned over the man. “Damon! Open your eyes. Look at me!”
Cain could already smell death coming. She had to smell it, too. He backed up, prowling around the house. Making sure the shooter wasn’t still close by.
“Missed his heart …” Eve’s voice floated toward Cain as she muttered. “Bullet’s still in. Has to get out … Cain, call an ambulance!”
He was supposed to help the bastard who’d watched her burn?
Slowly, Cain made his way back to the kitchen. Blood was on Eve’s hands. What the hell had she been doing? Why was she doing it?
“Damon, Damon, look at me!”
The man’s eyes flickered, then opened.
“You’re gonna be okay …”
Why was she lying to him? Cain frowned. Death was there, hovering so close.
“Who did this to you?” Eve asked him.
The bleeding male’s lips curved. The guy was smiling. At death? Cain looked at the human with new interest.
“Can’t … trust … anyone …” Damon gasped. More blood came from his lips.
“Where’s Wyatt?” Eve demanded as she put pressure on his wounds. “Where is he?”
More blood. Grunts.
Eve glanced up at Cain. “Call the ambulance.”
Cain didn’t move. “Why? They’d never make it here in time.”
She stared at him in shock. “C-Cain?”
He didn’t move toward the phone. “He’s gonna be dead long before any help can arrive.”
Air wheezed from the man’s lips. His eyes were wide open, and he had to be feeling every second of pain as his blood pumped from his body.
Cain knew what those gunshot wounds felt like. He’d been killed that way a time or two.
Eve kept pushing on the wounds. “Call help.”
Cain shrugged and bent toward the man. “Guessing your own team shot you, huh? Shot you, and left you to die …” He shook his head. “Why’d they do that? From what I can tell, you’re just a human. Not Wyatt’s usual paranormal target at all.”