“Is it?” He glanced at Baye, who carried out the head of another werewolf—this one a dark brown.
Baye threw the head toward the trees. “Only two werewolves. Neither were Brent.” A long scratch marred his left cheek, and blood covered his torso. “You’re gonna want to see this.” He disappeared back inside.
Katie hurried forward, clutching Jordan’s arm. “You are not responsible for the evil brought by the Kurjans.”
His bicep flexed. “How can I not be?” He stared at the blood now covering his cowboy boots. “I thought I’d be the best choice to lead. I made sure I was the only choice.” He shook his head, fury vibrating from his strong body. “Maybe I was wrong.”
She dug her nails in. “Stop it.” What the heck was going on? “I have a sense of Brent. The guy is pure evil—he would’ve destroyed the feline nation. You did the right thing. And now, you’re doing your job by chasing monsters.”
“When you chase monsters, you’re really chasing yourself.” Jordan grabbed her hand, striding toward the building. “Watch your step on the stairs.”
Wow. They were definitely going to discuss his family tree later. Katie gingerly stepped over a damaged board, crossing the destroyed porch and entering the dark dwelling. The stench of wet dog hit her immediately. Her stomach rolled. She took an involuntary step away. A warm hand settled on her back, providing comfort. Somehow Jordan had always known how to calm her.
She gathered courage and looked around. Dead and half-eaten animals covered the kitchen counters to the left, a ripped sofa perched against the wall to the right. Different colors of fur were embedded in the old cushions. No bathroom appeared visible, but Baye stood next to the one interior doorway, anger on his face.
He kept her gaze.
Icy fingers danced down her spine. “What?”
“Look inside the bedroom.” He tilted his head inside the doorway.
The air thickened. A familiar oiliness covered her skin. Evil. “Brent’s bedroom?” She walked inside and stopped short. The room was devoid of furniture except for a filthy mattress on the floor. The window had been boarded up, but enough light shone through the gaps to highlight the walls. Lance sat on his back haunches, ears twitching.
Jordan swore from behind her, brushing past to go closer to the photographs lining the wall. Pictures of her. In front of her building, at a movie theater with Maggie, at the grocery store. He whirled on her, fury lifting his lip. “Explain this.”
She stepped back. “I ... I ... can’t.” A picture from last week when she’d met a friend in a bar caught her eye. Maggie had arranged her first date with Mitch. The guy had been a football player more interested in talking about shoes than football. She hadn’t noticed anybody taking pictures, or even taking an interest in them. How was this possible?
“Werewolves don’t fucking take pictures.” Jordan swept an arm out. “Somebody got close enough to you, several times, to take your picture.” He pivoted and peered at the neatly arranged collage, walking along the wall. Finally, he turned toward Baye. “You and Lance aren’t in any—these were taken when you two weren’t around.”
“Which means the photographer was probably shifter, demon, or vampire,” Baye growled. “We would’ve sensed them.”
Katie shoved hair out of her eyes. “My senses aren’t as good as they used to be, but still ...” Why hadn’t she noticed someone taking so many pictures? Maggie hadn’t noticed, either.
Jordan glanced at Baye over her head. “You know what this means, right?”
“Yes. Brent has a friend.” Baye stared at the photographs. “Unbelievable.”
Lance padded all four legs forward, tiger gaze on one photograph. The one taken during her date. He snarled.
Jordan frowned, ripping the picture off the wall. “What?”
Katie peered over his shoulder. “That’s Mitch Meyers. He’s a football player I went on a date with last week.” She ignored the sudden stiffening of Jordan’s entire body.
Baye exhaled. “Shit. That’s the name of the human-turned-werewolf Lance went to the hospital to research last night.”
Dread had Katie freezing in place. “Mitch was turned into a werewolf?”
“Yes.” Fury spun red through Baye’s feline features. “Lance kidnapped him from the hospital last night and, well, took him down.”
Lance butted her thigh in support and apology. Absently, she reached down and scratched his ears. A human couldn’t survive a werewolf bite ... Lance had to kill Mitch.
Her gaze remained on the picture of the tall football player, a smile on his face, a beer in his hand. She bit her lip, fear slamming through her. Mitch was dead. All because he’d bought her a drink.
Somebody was working with a werewolf.
Somebody who had been watching her.
Chapter 6
Katie paced back and forth by the kitchen table, her mind whirling. She and the men had all showered and cleaned up quickly. For once the calm tones of her apartment failed to provide comfort. Even the handmade tablecloth lovingly stitched by her mother appeared odd with the pictures spread all over the lace. Thank God her mother was safely away on a cruise right then. Millie would be furious somebody was stalking her daughter—and would turn all feline and protective—probably insisting Katie hide while she hunted the threat. For now, Katie would protect her mother and keep her away from danger.
Katie turned toward her friend. “Frank is dead, too?”
Lance nodded, hanging up the phone. He frowned, his tone gentling. “Car accident two months ago. The police report said there was alcohol involved.”
She bit back a sob, dropping into the chair next to Baye. “Frank didn’t drink. Said he had an allergy to alcohol.” The accountant was a nice guy she went on two dates with. Once to a movie and the other time to a festival in the French Quarter. Unfortunately, they’d spent most of the time talking about his ex-girlfriend until they both realized he should go win the woman back. Now, because he’d hung out with Katie, he was dead.
Jordan leaned against the refrigerator, a scowl on his face. “That makes three.”
The third man, a police detective from up north, had died on the job two weeks previous. They’d only gone on one date. Lance had promised to investigate further to see if that was what really happened. Katie knew deep down the cop died because of her, too.
Lance rubbed his chin, blue eyes flashing. Most tigers had green eyes, but not Lance. Bluer than blue, the color had made many a woman sigh when the squad had been out enjoying a drink after work. Or rather, before work while they waited for the moon to rise. He shook his head. “I’m not doubting your abilities or trying to diminish your strength. But I think we should get you out of town until we figure this out. Just like we would if someone stalked Baye.”
“Baloney.” Katie ran her finger along a picture taken of her shopping for apples. First Brent, and now Lance. Somehow she had to conceal her panic and fear from her friends. If they had any clue how badly she wanted to go and hide under the bed, all three men would try to shield her. While she might be ill, for now, she was still a warrior. She needed to be a warrior. “Baye wouldn’t hide from a stalker. Neither will I.”
“I didn’t mean hide. Just move to an undisclosed location.” Frustration lined Lance’s face. “We’ll come up with a plan, find this guy, and destroy him. Together.”
Jordan smoothed the photographs into a pile. “No. Call it hiding, call it moving ... either way, you’re flying to headquarters in an hour.”