The Others: On The Prowl Part 12

"Oh, my G.o.d! What happened?" Missy's voice rang with shock as she waddled as fast as she could toward the men. "How badly is he hurt?"

"Bad enough," one of the men said, and by focusing on his scent Saskia could match it to the traces she'd already picked up around the house. This was Graham Winters. "He's lost a lot of blood. We're going to need a Feline donor. I told Sam to ask around next door and start spreading the word if no one was immediately available. It would be a h.e.l.l of a lot easier if the b.a.s.t.a.r.d were Lupine."

"If he were Lupine, he would likely be dead," the second man said, his rough, aristocratic face like a medieval knight wearing a veneer of civilization. "You can see the size of the claw marks. Whoever did this outweighed him by at least one or two hundred pounds."

"f.u.c.king tiger," Graham bit out, making his wife gasp.

"Watch your mouth, wolf boy," the Luna snapped.

Saskia held up a hand to stop her. "Don't worry about it, Missy. He's just upset, and I can understand why. He has every right to be."

The Alpha's head snapped in her direction, and she saw his eyes narrow. Oh, yes, Graham Winters recognized her, probably from the photos of her and Nic that had been all over the papers this weekend. Notoriety made everything so much more convenient.

"What the h.e.l.l is she doing h-" Graham snarled half the question, then stopped himself. "No, you know what? I don't want to know. Just keep her here. Misha and I need to get Rafe upstairs and make sure all the bleeding is stopped. After that's done, I'll come back down and then I want to talk to our guest."

Saskia remained silent and stood in the hall while the werewolf and the vampire-Misha could be no one other than Dmitri Vidme-carried their awkward burden up the stairs. She got a better look at the unconscious man as they maneuvered him past her, and her stomach clenched at the sight. The handsome werejaguar looked a mess, more blood than skin visible to the naked eye. Huge ragged slices cut across his chest and abdomen, shredding his clothing into ragged strips. She saw puncture wounds in his arms and shoulders, likely bite marks, and she thought she could see bone poking out through the raw, b.l.o.o.d.y wound on his right leg. Whoever had attacked Rafael De Santos had clearly intended to kill him, and this time he had almost succeeded.

She jerked when Missy laid a hand on her shoulder. She had nearly forgotten the other women were there.

"I apologize for my husband," Missy murmured, her eyes soft and wide with concern. "He and Rafe are very close. I know it doesn't excuse his behavior, but you were right in thinking this has upset him."

Saskia shook her head. "No, it's fine. I understand. I'm upset, too, just seeing it. But I want you to know, Nicolas is not responsible for that. He couldn't be."

She repeated the same thing half an hour later when Graham and Misha strode grimly into the sitting room.

"Your mate had officially worn out his welcome in this city, Ms. Arcos," the werewolf growled, his lips drawn back to show the barest hint of fang. Saskia made no mistake he intended her to feel the threat. "My pack and I will be escorting him out. Tonight."

"On a rail?" his wife shot back, planting her fists on her hips and glaring up at him. "What happened to gathering all the evidence against someone before we go throwing accusations in their direction? Do you have any proof that Nicolas Preda is the one who attacked Rafael?"

"What kind of proof do you want, woman?" Graham bellowed. "You saw him! You saw what was done to him! I say that's your proof!"

"Oh, so he signed his work, did he?"

Dmitri Vidme stepped forward, a hard, dark presence that seethed where Graham raged. The contrast did little to rea.s.sure Saskia.

"The injuries tell their own story, Melissa," the vampire said quietly. Implacably. "They were undoubtedly inflicted by a Feline shifter, one considerably larger than Rafe. Since he possesses unusual size for a jaguar, that rules out nearly every other species we know of. The only possibilities are lion and tiger. You know as well as I do that there is no Leo pride within five hundred miles of this city. It had to have been Tiguri."

Melissa crossed her arms over her chest and rested them on her stomach, not backing down an inch from the intimidating bloodsucker. "And Nicolas Preda is the only Tiguri shifter in the city, is he? That's news to me."

Graham snorted. "What, are you suggesting she did it? Impossible. At best, she'd equal Rafe in size, and he's male. He'd still have the advantage in strength. If she had attacked him like that, she'd be looking just as bad, if not worse."

"No, I'm not suggesting Sa.s.s attacked Rafe. I'm suggesting we don't know who attacked Rafe. Did he say it was Nicolas?"

"He's f.u.c.king unconscious! He can't say anything."

"Don't you swear at me, Graham Winters!"

"Then don't be an idiot, Melissa!"

"Please! Enough!" Saskia shouted, taking her life in her hands by stepping between the quarreling mates. "Enough," she repeated at a more civilized volume when everyone turned to glare at her. "There's no point in fighting. I'm perfectly aware that you believe my mate already attacked your friend once, Mr. Winters, but I can a.s.sure you he did not. Nor did he do it this time. He couldn't have."

"You're wrong, Ms. Arcos," Dmitri told her, his dark eyes hard and unreadable. "Graham was one of the few Council members who did not immediately a.s.sume your mate's guilt after Friday's incident. He said then that proof was required before stones could be cast, and I can a.s.sure you, he risked his reputation by taking that stance. So, you'll understand if he finds this latest attack doubly troubling."

"I'm troubled by it, too, Mr. Vidme, believe me. As is my mate. No one has wanted to find out who was behind the first attack on Mr. De Santos more than Nicolas and I. We even retained a private investigator to help us locate the culprit. Believe me when I tell you, Nicolas is not a killer."

Graham rolled his eyes. "Of course he's a killer, sweetheart. He's a predator. We all are. Killing comes naturally to us."

Saskia inclined her head tightly and struggled to hold back a scream. She needed to make these people understand that Nicolas was not guilty of these crimes, and throwing a fit would not help her cause.

"A fair point," she acknowledged. "Let me rephrase myself. Nicolas may have the capacity to kill, but he does not have the capacity to ambush another man and attempt to kill him out of spite or malice."

"You're sure of that."

"Perfectly." She lifted her chin and met the Lupine's stare. "I know my mate, Mr. Winters, and he is not the man you're looking for."

Graham stared at her. After a moment, he growled and raked an impatient hand over his hair. "This is ridiculous. Do you expect us to just take your word for it? Of course you don't want to believe your mate would do something like this, but as far as I know, there are only five Tiguri in the city. You and your mother aren't strong enough to have taken Rafe down, and you father and Preda's father are too old. Your mate is the only one who could have done this."

"Are you a hundred percent sure of that?" Corinne asked. When four sets of eyes turned her way, she clarified. "Are you a hundred percent sure that Saskia, her parents, Nic, and Mr. Preda are the only five Tiguri in the city?"

"Of course we are," Dmitri dismissed her. "They are the only Tiguri to have settled in the city in centuries."

"Okay." Corinne nodded and pursed her lips. "And I suppose it's impossible that a Tiguri could come visit the city? Or even stay here and neglect to mention that to the really suspicious and hostile locals? I suppose there's no way that could ever happen?"

For a moment, the two men looked shocked at the idea. Something like that would clearly never occur to them.

"The odds of that are extremely unlikely," Dmitri said, his eyes narrowing.

"But not impossible?" Missy pressed. She saw the c.h.i.n.k in the armor and she aimed straight for it. "We do have these newfangled inventions called airplanes, you know. I hear it's possible for someone to fly in them and visit places halfway across the world at a moment's notice."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Melissa," Graham growled.

"Really? I've always thought it brings out my eyes."

"No one is saying that is the definitive answer," Saskia said, seizing the opportunity, "but you have to account for the possibility. You also have to admit that you are probably right that both attacks were perpetrated by the same person."

"Right. Your husband." Graham glared at her.

"Wrong," she insisted. "If both attacks were made by the same individual, then I know for an absolute fact that Nicolas was innocent, and so does half of New York. That attack happened the night of our engagement dinner. Five hundred guests saw and spoke with Nicolas that night and can vouch for the fact that he did not leave the ballroom from seven in the evening until shortly after midnight. At that time, I walked with him to our waiting car and accompanied him to our apartment. He wasn't out of my sight for more than twenty minutes until we got the call that the Council required him to answer their questions sometime around two in the morning."

"Twenty minutes is a long time for someone who moves like a tiger," Dmitri pointed out, but some of the ice had melted from his eyes.

"It is, but regardless of the time, I know Nicolas never left the apartment. We had just gotten engaged, and that was our first night together. I knew where he was the entire time. Before you ask, I was nervous. I listened. I could hear him moving around, and I would have heard if he'd left."

"Again, you expect us to take your word for it?" Graham sneered, but the taunt lacked a certain heat.

"You don't have to take my word for it." She extended her hand to him, her fingers steady. "Scent me. You're Lupine; you should be able to smell if I'm lying. Taste me if you have to. I'm telling the truth."

Silence descended, enveloping the occupants of the room for several tense moments. Then Graham swore.

"I echo the sentiment," Dmitri said. "I must admit, our path seemed much clearer when we believed we knew the source of our troubles."

"I'm sure Torquemada thought his path was clear, too," Corinne offered, falling silent when Dmitri aimed a raised eyebrow in her direction.

"As I was saying, this leaves us with a bit of a dilemma. If we rule out the involvement of your mate, then we're left with the question of where to turn our attention."

This time, Corinne raised her hand before she spoke and Dmitri rolled his eyes. "Yes, Corinne?"

The reporter flashed him a cheeky grin. "Easy answer. You ask Mac."

"Mac?" he echoed.

"As in 'McIntyre Callahan'?" Graham asked.

"Yup. Sa.s.s wasn't pulling your leg when she said she and Nic had hired an investigator to look into this mess. Luckily, they had the good sense to go with Mac."

Dmitri looked to Saskia. "Is this true?"

She nodded. "It is, but we haven't heard anything from him yet. We only spoke to him the first time on Sunday. I think Nicolas mentioned he would give us his first report on Friday."

"That's tomorrow," Missy pointed out.

"So it is." The vampire rubbed the back of his finger along his jaw and sized Saskia up. "I would be very interested to learn what Callahan has managed to uncover, Ms. Arcos, as, I imagine, would the Council. Do you think your fiance might consent to receiving this report while we listened in?"

Oh, yeah. Right after he salaamed each and every one of them and declared them all Grand High Poo-bahs of Righteousness.

She choked back a laugh. "I don't think that's likely, Mr. Vidme. The Council doesn't rate very highly in my mate's estimation at the moment."

"Perfectly understandable. Do you think you might be able to persuade him to allow only myself, Graham, and Rafael to be present?"

Saskia hesitated. She didn't think Rafe would be a tough sell, since he clearly had the most at stake in this entire mess-his life. She figured Nicolas would balk at the other two men, however, both Council members and neither what anyone would call a friend.

"I can ask him," she finally said, doubt coloring her voice, "but I can't promise anything. He's been under a great deal of stress lately, and he's not always in the best of moods."

"Also understandable. All we ask is that you try, Ms. Arcos. It would make everything much simpler. For all of us."

Saskia didn't doubt that. What she doubted was her own sanity for even agreeing to make the attempt. She could practically hear Nicolas's denial already.

Nine.

"Absolutely not."

"But-"

"No. It's out of the question."

"Nicolas-"

"Saskia, this is not open for debate. The answer is no."

She frowned at her mate as he climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. "I think you're being unreasonable."

He turned to glare at her. "Unreasonable? Believe me, little tigress, I would be happy to show you unreasonable. In fact, I wanted very much to show you unreasonable last night when you finally walked in the door hours after I myself had returned to our home and found it empty."

"We left you a note! And a voice mail," she pointed out. "And Corinne said she told you we might have to go out if you were late."

"Yes, she did, which is why I controlled myself so reasonably last night. But I'm afraid I've used up my allotment for the week. You'll have to survive me being unreasonable until at least Monday."

She stuck her tongue out at the bathroom door when it snapped shut behind him.

Flopping back on the pillows, she contemplated the ceiling as she heard the water turn on in the shower. She had to admit he had behaved with remarkable restraint last night when she returned to their apartment shortly before ten. She had seen his impatience in the way he pounced on her the minute she stepped over the threshold, sweeping her into his arms and crushing her to his chest. She'd also tasted it on his lips and felt it when he carried her to the floor and mounted her on the parquet of the entry, unwilling to wait as long as it would take to move the dozen steps to the living room and their favorite chenille sofa.

He hadn't asked her a single question until he rolled his weight off her and pulled her against his sweat-dampened chest. She hadn't answered any until she'd caught her breath five or six minutes after that. The interrogation had lasted at least another sixty. They had discussed Corinne at first, whom Nic liked; then Saskia had explained to him how they had adjourned to the house of another friend, a woman named Missy Winters.

Nicolas was an intelligent man. He remembered the connection immediately, and that was when he'd stopped liking Saskia's friends. He had especially not liked hearing about the accusations hurled in his absence by the Silverback Alpha and the Russian vampire, nor had he liked that his mate had been forced to defend him. The fact that the two men had eventually come to see that he was not De Santos's mysterious attacker failed to even the scales in his eyes. He had immediately rejected the idea of allowing anyone to be present when he received Mac's report, and he apparently didn't like the idea any better in the light of day.

Saskia, though, wasn't done persuading.

She rolled out of bed and crossed the room naked, slipping into the bathroom and joining her mate under the pulsing jets of the shower. The s.p.a.ce, with its tiled walls and multiple heads, could easily have held six, but Saskia didn't let that keep her from pressing close against Nicolas's back and wrapping her arms around his chest. He ducked his head to rinse away his shampoo, then shook off the excess water.

"This isn't going to make me change my mind," he rumbled, sounding almost amused.

Amused was a good sign.

"Who's trying to change your mind?" she asked, pressing a kiss to the skin between his shoulder blades. "I'm just trying to get clean. I feel like I've been very dirty lately."

Nicolas laughed outright and turned to take her in his arms. "In that case, hand me the soap, and I'll see what I can do about cleaning you right up."

As it turned out, her mate's idea of washing her focused on a very few specific spots and left her feeling more invigorated than truly clean. She discovered a handy way to expend her excess energy, though, by washing her mate in turn, paying similarly close attention to a few of her favorite spots along the way. By the time they emerged from the bathroom, thoroughly relaxed and squeaky clean, Saskia felt ready to launch her next sortie.

She began in the kitchen, reasoning that a beast with a full belly always felt more receptive to suggestions.

"You know, your way is probably better," she said, toying with her toast while she snuck glances at her mate's face, half-concealed behind his morning copy of the Times. "This way, there won't be any chance of a messy confrontation between you and anyone on the Council."

"Sa.s.s," he warned, eyeing her over the fold.

"No, I mean it," she persisted, donning a mask of earnest innocence perfected after years of practice. "If you let De Santos, or Vidme, or anyone sit in on the meeting with Mac, there's a chance he might make a scene, no matter what Mac has to tell us. It's much better if we meet with Mac alone. Then I can be the neutral party and meet with the others alone to give them the information."

"Over my dead body." He slammed his paper down on the counter with a snarl.

Saskia stiffened her spine and pushed aside the urge to back down. "It's the logical solution. They've already eliminated me as a suspect, and they know I won't lie to them because they could easily check back with Mac to verify what was in his report. This way, they get to feel like we weren't deliberately insulting them and you don't have to risk a direct confrontation. It works for everyone."