Dead Heat Read online

  “The little boy that your wolf rescued back in 1978.”

  “How many do you need?”

  “All of them. On our victims, and on the FBI agent and the Cantrip agents who found his latest victim with us. At least two werewolves at all times. And they’ll have to stay out of sight,” he said. “I know that’ll put a strain on the pack. You can tell them that the Marrok will make sure they don’t suffer financially and that I don’t think it will last long.”

  “Maybe they do have the right fae,” said Hosteen. “With them, it’s sometimes hard to predict why they do things.”

  Charles’s horse snorted and Charles tilted his head sideways, closing his eyes, and murmured, “Can’t you feel it in the air? There’s a storm coming.” When he opened his eyes, they were yellow. He straightened and, though Anna couldn’t see that he moved again, his horse broke into a gentle canter.

  They put the other horses away before taking Portabella into the same smaller arena that Anna had ridden in the day before. The mare didn’t look any different than she had before Anna had gotten on her outside. Or if she did, she looked even calmer, because she’d still been a little huffy about Chelsea when Anna had hopped on.

  Charles lengthened the stirrups a lot, checked the cinch, and then swung up on the mare. Her head went up, her eyes rolled until Anna could see the whites that were normally hidden, she shifted her weight to her haunches, and she danced uneasily from foot to foot.

  Charles just sat there, his body loose and easy; the only motion he made was the motion generated by the horse’s movement. She shuffled a few steps forward, two backward, a hop sideways. He made no move to correct her, just stayed balanced and light on her back.

  They fit each other, Anna thought: big dark man, big dark horse, both elegant and strong. The idea made her lips quirk up, even with the worry that the janitor wasn’t the fae they were really looking for.

  “You coming to the show tomorrow?” Kage asked. “Michael’s riding in the lead-line and Mackie’s taking the little gray you rode yesterday in the English walk/trot class.”

  “I’ll ask Charles,” she said, watching as the mare, left mostly to her own devices, finally stopped moving except for the unhappy swish of her tail. “I think we’re going to try to get in to see the guy the FBI has locked up if we can. But I’d love to come see the kids ride.” And to make sure that they were safe.

  After five minutes more (Anna checked her watch), Charles still having done nothing but sit there, the mare lowered her head and began to chew her bit. Immediately, Charles slipped off. He patted her neck and led her out of the gate. “If you want to put her on your list of possibles,” he told Anna, “that would be okay.”

  And she knew for sure that he really liked her. Anna liked her a lot, too. “Okay,” she said. She looked at Kage. “She’s on our list of possibles, but not on the price list you gave us. Do you have a price for her?”

  “Ten thousand,” said Hosteen.

  Kage snorted. “Not anywhere near that, Hosteen. Five thousand for a pretty horse, well broke for trail. Twenty-five hundred for the well broke plus twenty-five hundred for the pretty. But don’t make up your mind yet, there’s some nice horses you haven’t seen.”

  And as Kage and Hosteen left to put the mare away, Anna heard Hosteen chortle, “Did you hear him? She’s a challenge. He wants her. He’d have paid ten thousand for her.”

  “We don’t overcharge for our horses, old man,” said Kage. “That’s a good way to get a bad reputation. And I suspect that Charles knows just exactly how much that horse should cost.” He paused. “I shouldn’t have said anything at all. I could have just told Dad what you tried to do; then you’d be in real trouble.”

  Hosteen made a reply, but Anna couldn’t hear what he said. His voice sounded happy.

  “I like them,” Anna said, very softly.

  Charles’s lips quirked. “Hosteen was watching Kage when he gave us that price, did you see?”

  “He was right, though,” Anna observed. “You’d have paid ten thousand for her because she’s a challenge.”

  He smiled, eyes soft. “I already have a challenge,” he told her in a gravelly voice.

  She shook her head with mock sadness. “I’m not a challenge, Charles. I’m just another woman panting after you like that teacher with the hungry eyes at the day care.”

  He laughed out loud. “Sure you are,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Sure you are.”

  Well, she knew it was true, even if he didn’t believe her. His arm pulled her a little off balance, and paradoxically it steadied her at the same time. That was what Charles did to her heart, too. He knocked it off balance into what felt like the right position, a safe place that was still exciting, exhilarating, and terrifying.

  What if I lost him?

  Anna called Leslie in the morning.

  “No, I can’t get you in to see Sean McDermit,” she said in a distracted voice. “His lawyer is a shark, and he’s not saying anything. Apparently all we have on him is that the bodies were found in his house, a house that he’s never lived in. And that he’s a fae. Which makes this all the more politically hot, given the current tension with the fae.”

  “We’re not sure you have the right person,” Anna said.

  There was silence on the other line.

  “I found Archie Vaughn,” Anna told her. “He was killed a year and a half after he stopped that kidnapping. Torn to pieces by a fae. Why would someone who could tear apart a werewolf let human police officers pick him up without a fight?”

  “I’ll take your concerns to our fae expert,” she said. “I hate to say it, but I’m suspicious about how easy this was, too. So I’ve got people doing background checks on anyone who was ever employed by or used the day care and everyone they knew.” She paused. “We’re also searching records of missing children, trying to identify the bodies. Some of that is on computer, some of it on microfiche, and still more of it is in paper files scattered all over the city. We’ve got a pair of poor flunkies wading through microfiche of hundred-year-old newspapers, too. It doesn’t help that it’s not just Scottsdale, it’s Phoenix and all the rest of the suburbs, too. We’ll be decades identifying the bodies in that attic.”

  Anna made a sympathetic noise.

  “Anyway,” Leslie continued, sounding more grounded and less frantic, “you’ll be as happy as I am that it looks like that poor baby we rescued yesterday wasn’t raped. She’s still traumatized, scared of the dark, terrified of dolls—and who could blame her—and she cries every time her parents aren’t in the room with her.”

  “What did he do?” she asked.

  “Dressed her like a doll, sang to her, hurt her. She said his touch hurt like a bee sting all over her body. Made her so she couldn’t move. She wasn’t asleep, she just couldn’t move.”

  “Terrifying,” Anna said.

  “Yes,” agreed Leslie, sounding tired.

  “Since you have your manpower focused on research, you’ll be happy to know that we have werewolves guarding Amethyst’s parents, Dr. Vaughn, and his partner and his mother. Also, you and Leeds and Marsden. You won’t know they are there.”

  Anna kept speaking over the top of Leslie’s indignant protest. “This one killed a werewolf, tore him to pieces with magic. A human simply doesn’t stand a chance. The werewolves will be wearing black Converse sneakers, so you’ll know not to shoot them or react to their presence. They are doing this because we feel it necessary, Leslie, putting their lives on the line. They are, all of this pack”—Hosteen had clarified this—“living as human. If you reveal what they are to the public, it might ruin their lives.”

  Leslie made an unhappy sound. “I will keep their secrets, and make sure Marsden and Leeds are apprised, too. How long are we going to be protected?”

  “Thank you,” Anna said, air leaving her in a whoosh of relief at Leslie’s agreement. “Until we are all convinced you have the right fae. If you need us, we’re going to the Arabian h
orse show at WestWorld in north Scottsdale. If we don’t pick up the phone, text us.”

  “The horse show?” said Leslie. “Let’s see. Ms. Newman’s four-year-old class is going to be there in the morning and Miss Baird’s five-year-old class in the afternoon. Apparently they do it every year. Tomorrow it will be the two-year-olds and then Mrs. Hepplethwaite’s three-year-old class. Do you want any of the classes’ daily schedules by day? The music teacher on Monday and Wednesday is also the swimming instructor Tuesday and Thursday. Did I tell you we are taking a very close look at that day care?”

  Anna laughed.

  “Why do the two-year-olds have a teacher?” Leslie asked. “Don’t you think they should have a babysitter? Or even an entertainer? Can’t they just be toddlers and not students?”

  “Students pay more for school than toddlers pay for babysitters,” Anna suggested.

  “Hmm,” said Leslie. “Okay. That makes more sense. Thank you.”

  “Just don’t talk too much to Ms. Newman,” Anna suggested, “or you might be overcome with the temptation to steal all of her students out from under her iron rule and take them outside to run around and have fun like normal four-year-olds.”

  Leslie laughed. “Look,” she said. “There is no way I can get you and Charles in to see McDermit before our expert has a go. But call me this afternoon.”

  “We’d appreciate it,” Anna told her.

  “No promises, but I’ll try,” Leslie said, and ended the call.

  Anna pulled on her socks and boots and trotted down the stairs through the empty house; everyone else, including Maggie and Joseph, was already at the horse show. Both of the little kids were riding today and no one wanted to miss it.

  No one. A chill ran down Anna’s spine. The fae were tricksy. They were also supposed to be all locked up in reservations, but one fae had been in Kathryn Jamison’s garden. Presumably, because neither she nor Charles had seen him, the janitor was a second. The bodies had been found in a house he owned. But Anna had learned to listen to her instincts; they told her there was a third fae, the real Doll Collector, complete with ties to the day care, the fetch, and the janitor.

  Happily Anna wasn’t the only one whose instincts were on edge. Hosteen had claimed guard duty on the kids for himself, and Wade was assigned to Chelsea. But Anna thought it was a good thing that she and Charles were going, too. Two more werewolves keeping an eye on four victims who had escaped, mostly escaped anyway. Their job would be floating security, looking for any signs that the fae was stalking the Sani family. She found it very interesting that Sunshine Fun Day Care was scheduled so that the whole day care, staff and students alike, was going to be at the show at one time or another.

  Charles was down in the kitchen finishing his breakfast. The family and most of their staff had left before dawn. Hosteen had suggested she and Charles come after the show opened to the public.

  “I warned Leslie,” Anna told him. “She told me that the whole day care is going to be at the horse show today and tomorrow. She also said there wasn’t a chance of us getting in to see their captive fae today. She’s going to try to get us in this afternoon.”

  He had set his silverware down as if he were finished eating. She sat on his lap and ate his last piece of bacon. “So I guess you get to take me to my first horse show.”

  “The last time I went to this show it was at Paradise Park. I think it was about 1965, long before you were born.” He quit speaking, frowning a little at her.

  “Are you planning on worrying about how much older you are than I am when you are four hundred and I’m only two hundred?” she asked him in an interested voice. “I’m only asking because my father said it was dangerous when you start tuning out your spouse, but I don’t know how long I can worry about it.”

  He laughed; his arms surrounded her and pulled her tighter in a brief hug.

  “Besides,” she said airily, sliding off his lap, “I’ve heard that Vlad the Impaler established without a doubt that having a stick up one’s ass was detrimental to one’s health. And I am very interested in keeping you healthy.”

  She didn’t make it to the door before he had her, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and the other around her middle, pulling her back into his body.

  He put his mouth against her ear and growled playfully, “So I’m in danger of suffering the fate of Vlad’s victims, am I? Maybe you should do something about rescuing me?”

  The vibration of his voice against her ear made her shiver, but she tried to keep her voice steady anyway. “Why, sir, what could you possibly mean? Are you propositioning moi?”

  He growled in her ear and she squeaked because it tickled, and caused a more interesting sensation in her stomach. Then he moved his right hand down to cup her breast and his left hand slid south. He said a few sentences in French, his voice rough and hungry. She thought maybe he’d forgotten she didn’t really speak French.

  “Charles,” she said, her own voice husky with need, because her mate was hard to resist at any time. But he was never sexier than when he was feeling playful.

  He picked her up and took her to their room, his steps slow and deliberate—and that was its own kind of foreplay.

  It was a while before they actually got to the show grounds. They were still early. Kage had said that crowds didn’t get really big until the last three or four days. That being said, the place they finally found to park was a quarter-mile walk to the entrance.

  Armed with a map, Charles led the way briskly through what felt like miles and miles of kiosk shopping in the huge main building. He ignored the surreptitious attention he was garnering, for both his looks and, Anna thought, his air of dangerous intent.

  Michael’s class was getting its fifteen-minute warning call as they finally found the seats the Sanis’ ranch had reserved in the indoor arena. Anna had been beginning to despair when Charles spotted the mobility cart bearing the ranch’s logo in silver and brown parked tightly behind the rows of blue stadium seats. From there it was easy to find familiar faces.

  Anna and Charles found seats next to Mateo and Teri, just behind Maggie, Joseph, Max, Chelsea, and Wade. Max twisted around and grinned at Anna.

  “Mackie is a little tyrant,” he said. “She declared that everyone had to see her ride.” He raised his voice to a squeak that was supposed to sound like his little sister. “Ev-er-ee-bo-dee.” He grinned. “And then Michael, not to be outdone, declared that we all had to be here to watch him, too. So Dad and Hosteen are getting the kids and horses ready for the class so that the rest of the crew can watch from the rail.”

  Anna thought it seemed reasonable to her: children ought to feel comfortable demanding an audience if they were going to ride in this huge building. The bleachers were empty, but the stadium seating along the arena railing seemed to be pretty full.

  “Where’s Mackie, then?” Anna asked. “Her class isn’t until this afternoon, right?”

  “She seems to think that Michael might need some coaching,” said Joseph. If his voice was hesitant, the twinkle in his eye wasn’t. “Bossing, more like. It’s a good thing that boy is laid-back or Kage’s household will be hell until they both grow up and go out on their own.”

  “She’s got a good heart,” Maggie said repressively.

  Joseph looked at her, and Anna saw that he adored the woman who sat beside him. “She’s just like her grandma,” he said, patting her hand. “Tough, straightforward, and determined. You didn’t turn out so bad, Maggie my love. If she’s half the woman you are, the world better watch out.”

  “Joseph,” said a stranger who came down the short stretch of stairs until he could stand next to Joseph’s chair, which was on the aisle. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “My grandson’s riding,” Joseph said with dignity. “Where else would I be?”

  And the two men started talking about other days and other shows. Horses they’d owned, horses other people had owned. They were joined by an older woman who could have stepped
out of the Grand Ole Opry of the ’80s. She glittered in gold and black tiger stripes, wore too much makeup, and had a voice that decades of smoking had roughened to Marlene Dietrich level. She was bawdy and made both of the old men laugh. Maggie leaned sideways and added a sharp remark that showed that she, too, was a welcome part of this group.

  They tried to include Chelsea, and she smiled on cue, but she was noticeably tense in the big, noisy crowd. Anna glanced at Charles, who was watching Chelsea, too.

  He didn’t look worried, so she sat back and looked around. Directly in front of them, a large group of very well-groomed and glittering horses circled the arena at a very, very slow canter. As soon as she started watching them, Charles whispered in her ear, “Half Arab, Anglo-Arab western pleasure, amateur owner to ride, section one. This is an elimination round. The best of them will go on to the semifinal round. That’s why no one in the audience is too excited about it, except for the cheering sections for each horse and rider.”

  “They are very slow,” she said after a moment. “Shouldn’t they be going faster? What if something was chasing them? I think Portabella walked faster than this yesterday. What’s an Anglo-Arab?”

  “Half Thoroughbred, half Arab. It was the first of the half-bred Arabs to gain popularity. The Thoroughbred added size, so bigger people could ride. These are almost all quarter-horse or paint crossbreeds, except for the Appaloosa down there.” He paused. “That’s a really nice Appaloosa.”

  Joseph, still chatting with his buddies, had apparently been paying attention to them, too. “Still got the eye. That mare won this class the past two years running. If this is a fair sampling of her competition, she’s got a good chance of winning it again. If Helen’s daughter-in-law doesn’t take it with her Shining Spark gelding.”

  Anna quit trying to parse the horse talk (for instance, what in the world was a Shining Spark gelding?) and just settled in and watched pretty horses moving very slowly with pretty riders wearing sometimes garish colors and lots and lots of glitter. The men were better off than the women, coming off conservative in comparison.