them.
But this itching under his skin was abominable. He had to find sexual relief ASAP. And not from his own hand. He needed to bury his cock in a hot, willing sheath and fuck until he couldn’t breathe any longer. It wouldn’t be Kira, no matter that the idea made his wolf whine in distress.
Any woman would have to do. Today, tomorrow night at the latest, he’d call on Jacee. She had never turned him away, and probably never would. He didn’t need Kira, just a sleek body, and he’d remind himself of that soon.
“Jax, are you with me?”
Jerking his head up, he found everyone’s attention on him. Great. Meeting Nick’s gaze, he schooled his face into a cool mask. The man saw far too much. “I’m sorry. I missed what you said.”
After shooting Jaxon a look of irritation, the older man started over. “We’ve got two cases Grant dropped on my desk early this morning. The first is a string of murders that have happened around Cody. Or more accurately, the bodies were dumped outside town, but the victims were killed elsewhere. The second is a guy who’s been hanging around the cemetery not far from where the bodies were found and is doing a bang-up job of making the locals nervous. Whether or not he’s responsible for the killings or knows anything about them, we don’t know, but we’re going to find out.”
Zander spoke up. “Why’d we catch this? Sounds like a job for the sheriff’s office.”
Ryon smacked his friend on the back of the head. “Why do ya think, idiot? These aren’t just any bodies and this dude is no ordinary drifter. Otherwise, Grant wouldn’t have become involved.”
A few snickers ensued before Nick continued. “Correct. There have been four bodies discovered in shallow graves on the northeast border of the Shoshone, all within a few yards of one another. After the sheriff’s office and forensics went over the area, the county coroner was called out. He immediately ascertained what the cops suspected—all four bodies were in varying stages of decomposition, the most recent one dead only a few days.”
“They found a dumping ground,” Jaxon guessed.
“Right. All were men, approximate age range early twenties to early thirties. No IDs, and no men have been reported missing from Cody or the surrounding areas. In layman’s terms, the men were tortured to death. It appears they were kept in captivity—ligature marks on the wrists and ankles—and were malnourished. Scalpel marks and missing tissue from several areas of the body suggest they endured some kind of medical procedure.”
“Jesus,” Ryon whispered. At first Jaxon thought his friend was reacting to what Nick said. But his eyes were closed and his face had paled, his skin gray and clammy. “I don’t know what you want. I don’t
“Crap, somebody bring him back,” Aric blurted. It always unnerved the normally brash wolf when Ryon’s spirits came to call.
The sole Channeler and Telepath on the team, Ryon was often sought out by the dead beseeching him for help he didn’t know how to give. Like now.
Jaxon would take his ability as a RetroCog any day. He had no control over events that had already occurred, but at least he wasn’t barraged by dead people, and that suited him just fine.
Leaning close, he gripped his friend’s shoulder and shook gently. “Hey, buddy. Let them go, come on back.” The blond’s eyes fluttered open. “Ryon?”
“God, I hate when they blindside me,” he rasped. “Why can’t they get that there’s not a damned thing I can do to help them?”
“How many this time?” Nick asked, frowning.
“Two. They were yelling at me, but as usual, the words were garbled. One kept pointing at you, like he was all worked up by what you were telling us.”
“One of the four victims?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. You got photos?”
“Not yet. Grant is sending them by e-mail shortly.”
“Okay.” Ryon rubbed his temples.
“You all right?”
“I’m fine. Not gonna toss my cookies or anything. Sorry about that, guys.”
Hammer thumped him on the back. “Give yourself a break, man. It’s all good.” From the quiet one of the bunch, it was practically a speech.
Nick got the meeting on track again, keeping a wary eye on Ryon. “So the coroner determines cause of death. Imagine his surprise to discover the men weren’t human.”
Aric whistled through his teeth. “Let the fun begin.”
“No shit.” This from Zan.
“Shifters?” Jaxon wondered aloud. His mind drifted to the suspicions Kira had shared with him and Nick, and the gene/DNA report she’d read. Nick’s eyes met his, and Jaxon knew his boss was thinking the same thing, though how they could be related was a mystery.
“Bingo. To say the coroner got excited is an understatement. Thank Christ Sheriff Deveraux is in our loop and got to the man before he had the chance to blab the news to everyone he knew. Deveraux called Grant, and now we’re ‘assisting’ the sheriff’s office in the investigation. Off the record, of course.”
“Who’s got the bodies?” Zan asked.
“Melina and her team will have them as of this morning, when they pick them up from the coroner. We’ll be able to learn a lot more about the victims after they conduct some tests, much more than a few crime scene pics will tell us.”
Aric leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the table. “This is all real fascinating, but I don’t see what we can do here. I mean, point me at a demon or whatever and I’ll smoke it. Fuck, we’re soldiers, not detectives.”
“Well, it looks like you’ll have to be both,” Nick snapped. “Unless you’ve got another Paranormal Black Ops team on speed dial to take this mess off our hands. No? Didn’t think so.”
Aric shut his trap, but shook his head, his displeasure clear.
Nick parked his ass on the corner of the table. “Our advantage is our Psy skills. We’ll use all of our resources to get a lead on what happened to these poor guys, and why. Which brings us to the drifter in the cemetery. Witnesses report he’s young, early to midtwenties, with collar-length black hair. Deveraux personally ran him off night before last. Said he’s very Goth, wears a heavy silver pentagram, three studs in each ear, black eyeliner, and a black leather duster. Translation—he ain’t from Wyoming.”
That got a good laugh from everyone.
“All kidding aside, in light of the discovery of the bodies and their proximity to the cemetery, he’s a person of interest. Deveraux got his name—Kalen Black. Go figure. If the bodies had been found at the time, he would’ve held the guy for questioning. Tonight we’ll stake out the cemetery, see if he shows. If he doesn’t, we’ll ask around and try to pin down where he might’ve gone. We’ll leave at sunset. Questions?”
No one had any, and Jaxon made himself scarce before anyone could ask him where he was going. Hell, this was supposed to be their weekend off, and that had sure been shot to shit, hadn’t it? He was entitled to some of the R & R they’d all been forced to abort last night, and he didn’t feel one bit guilty about taking his due or not inviting his friends to ride into Cody. They were big boys.
And where he was going, he didn’t need any tagalongs.
Instead of taking one of the team’s black Mercedes SUVs, he jumped onto his baby—a sleek silver and dark blue Honda Shadow ACE 750, a big, bad boy with plenty of power for the road. Aric and Zan were Harley men, but in Jaxon’s opinion the brand was overrated. Appalled, the other two declared that was just “un-American.” It was a friendly debate they kept going while tinkering in the garage and flexing their muscles, so to speak.
Slipping on his shades, Jaxon took the winding road away from the compound, relishing the wind in his face, raking cool fingers through his hair. Wearing a helmet would’ve been the smart thing, regardless of the fact that adults in Wyoming weren’t required to, but he was feeling a little reckless. Even a shifter couldn’t heal from his brains being splattered all over the pavement, but for a while he simply wanted to feel free. Not trapped by rules and regs.
Not to mention by his own nature.
