Bengal's Heart

◆ CHAPTER 11 ◆

A restless night filled with broken, erotic dreams haunted Cassa until the first fragile rays of light began to spill over the Gauley River that flowed beyond the window of her room.

Rising from bed, she stared into the churning, murky winter water, not for the first time, frowning at the sense of excitement and trepidation that filled her.

She should have been furious. She hadn’t seen Cabal the night before. Whatever business he’d had to do had taken him much longer than hers had. Of course, hers had amounted to no more than tracking down Banks’s golfing buddies. None of whom had any information that could have led to the cause of the former mayor’s disappearance.

She had returned to her room at midnight, disgusted and aroused. Mating heat sucked, but at least Ely’s hormones were keeping her from searching out Cabal and demanding sex.

She didn’t want to face what she knew was happening to her own body. She wanted to question someone, anyone. She just wanted a few ideas on how to handle a very stubborn Bengal Breed. Surely that wouldn’t be too much to ask.

Merinus, the Feline pack leader’s wife, or Scheme, the wife of the Felines’ head of public relations—anyone but Cabal, because God only knew he’d never tell her the truth. But she knew better. If she talked to anyone, then she was sealing her own fate.

Somehow—no, not somehow, she knew how—mating heat was beginning to affect every facet of her life. It would only get worse, she already knew that. As the days slipped by, her need for him would only grow, until the initial phase of the heat eased. After that, she could expect a few days to a week each month that the symptoms were worse. Ovulation always triggered it, made the need for sex more insistent. Ely had already pretty much told her what to expect.

Wrapping her arms across her chest, she breathed in slow and easy, feeling the hard tips of her nipples, the swollen contours of her breasts. It was more of an irritant, at the moment, rather than being painful.

She gave her head a hard shake before turning and striding quickly to the shower. Despite the cool temperature that she’d set the thermostat at the night before, her body was still overheated.

A cool shower eased it, but only marginally. Two hours later, dressed in jeans, a white blouse, leather jacket and hiking boots, she slung the small backpack she carried for personal use over her shoulder and left her room.

She’d wasted enough time the day before. There were answers in this small town, she could feel it, as well as a story that went much deeper than the murders of men who had once hunted down and aided in the torture of Breeds.

She had felt that knowledge each time the anonymous emails came through. She had seen something beyond the pictures of death that were attached to the later emails, and the threats that her own secrets could be revealed. She had no secrets that she knew of. There wasn’t a day in her life that the Breeds hadn’t thoroughly investigated.

Those deaths had a purpose though, a reason that went far beyond Breed rage. Cassa wanted to know what that purpose was. For the first time since the Breeds had revealed themselves, one of them was stepping past the careful control she had always glimpsed within them. One of them was taking personal vengeance, and he had come here, to Glen Ferris, a place where Breeds had once taken refuge, to do so.

Leaving the inn, she opted to walk rather than drive the few blocks to a nearby diner and the breakfast meeting she had set up with Myron, hoping to get more information than she had the day before. He knew something. She had sensed it, felt it.

She wanted to know what he wasn’t telling her, and why he had never told her about the Breed wife he’d had before he met and married Patricia.

Pushing through the door to the diner, Cassa gazed around the large, crowded room until she caught sight of Myron. His bright red hair stood out in relief. Cut much closer to his head than it had been years before, it lay around his freckled features and threw his pale blue eyes into stark relief.

At the side of his eyes deep lines were carved into his face that she hadn’t noticed the day before. She would have called them laugh lines, but Cassa had never seen Myron laugh. The same grooves bracketed his mouth, and across his forehead deep frown lines were displayed with the shorter cut of his hair.

But his face was lean, and he looked years younger than his forty-two years of age. He had been one of the guiding forces in the movement to find a safe place for the Breeds to hide before their presence was revealed eleven years ago. He and his father had worked tirelessly for years to hide the Breeds, who had often arrived near death, in the one area rumored to offer a measure of safety.

Moving across the dining room, Cassa caught sight of two Breeds drinking coffee in a corner behind and to the side of Myron. They were dressed in jeans, flannel shirts and ball caps. She would have never picked them out for Breeds if she hadn’t familiarized herself before she arrived with the Breeds known to be in the area. They looked like farmers. Hell, they might well be farmers. Many of the Breeds that had been hiding in these mountains had been smart enough to carve a living out for themselves in the area.

“Myron, I hope you have coffee coming.” Cassa slid into the booth as she smiled back at the reporter, taking in the ever present suspicion in his pale eyes and the deepening of the frown lines at his forehead.

Lifting his head, he nodded toward the counter.

“The waitress was waiting on you,” he told her as he laid aside the newspaper he had been glancing over. “What do you need now? I told you, Cass, I don’t know anything about Banks’s disappearance.”

He had been in a better mood the day before, which wasn’t saying much.

“I wasn’t going to ask about Banks.” She waved the subject away. “It’s been a while, Myron, maybe I just wanted to catch up.”

He shook his head at that. “You don’t have time to catch up, Cass. I follow your stories, you know. Last I heard you were chasing down the location of Breed scientists known to have been involved in the Coyote Breed genetics. What happened to that?”

“I’m still working on it.” She shrugged. “There were rumors that two Coyote Breed scientists had survived an assassination attempt by the Coyote Ghost and were now actually residing in the Coyote stronghold. All I’ve heard are rumors though.”

Myron lifted his red brows in surprise. “Surprising that the Council allowed them to live, even if the Ghost did. The Coyotes were their most secret creations.”

“And Breeds as well as human scientists are still trying to figure out why,” Cassa agreed. “Perhaps this marriage between the Coyote alpha, Del-Rey Delgado, and Anya Kobrin will shed some light on those scientists.”

Myron snorted at the thought, though she saw a flicker of worry in his gaze.

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” he muttered.

“I don’t bet on anything where getting information out of Breeds is concerned.” She almost laughed at the thought. The definition of “Breed” was “closemouthed and unpredictable.”

Myron smiled at that, then gave her a probing look as he sipped his coffee, before saying, “I hear you have a particular Breed on your ass at the moment. What’s up with that?”

Cassa affected an innocent look. “Just a particular Breed? If there’s a Breed around, then he seems to be nosy about my business.”

“Comes with the territory?” He chuckled. “You’ve turned yourself into the bane of their existence with your reports. You’re not just a nosy reporter, but best friends with two of the Breed alpha mates. Be careful, you might become a liability next.”

Cassa rolled her eyes at that. “Maybe I’ve already become one.” She had no doubt that was how Jonas and Cabal both saw her now. It was a dangerous position to occupy.

“That could explain that Bengal Breed shadowing you.” Myron folded his arms on the table and glared at her warningly. “Stay out of trouble, Cassa. I’d hate to see you get hurt here.”

Now there was a shift.

“There was a time when you would have helped me get into trouble,” she reminded him with a small smile.

Myron only shook his head as he sighed roughly.

“So have you found out anything about Banks?” He lifted his coffee to his lips as the waitress set another cup in front of Cassa along with a menu. “It’s obvious you don’t intend to stay out of whatever stink you’re trying to stir up.”

“I could only wish.” She tried for a smile as she poured cream in her coffee and watched Myron through the veil of her lashes. “Did you know Brandenmore and Engalls very well? I know they have a hunting cabin in the area.”

Myron’s eyes narrowed on her. “It’s a small town, Cassa. Of course I knew them. We didn’t socialize together though.”

“Did you suspect then that they were involved with Breed deaths?”

Myron’s expression hardened further as his jaw tightened.

“If I had suspected then, they wouldn’t be alive to continue to torture Breeds now.”

Myron was being extremely closemouthed on the subject. That wasn’t like him. He was a reporter. He should have already gotten most of the information that she needed to continue her own investigation.

“Did they have a connection to the Breeds that you knew of?” She frowned at the feeling that she was having to drag answers out of him.

“They hated the Breeds and you know it.” Myron grimaced. “Look, Cassa, if anyone around here knew anything that would help you or St. Laurents, trust me, you’d have the information. We want to see those two taken down as much as anyone else does. We’d be doing ourselves, as well as the Breeds, a favor.”

“There’s a rumor that someone is doing the Breeds other favors as well. That someone has identified the Deadly Dozen and they’re taking them out.” Cassa reached into her bag and pulled out the picture of the valley she had been searching for in the mountains. Watching him closely, she laid it on the table. “One of the Dozen could have died here.”

Myron’s gaze flickered over it before his expression tightened with what she was certain was recognition. He knew the area, and he knew that location.

“Do you recognize that valley?” she asked him.

When his gaze lifted, the look in his eyes was flinty and hard.

“That could be anywhere,” he said tonelessly.

Cassa frowned down at the picture before looking back at him suspiciously. She had seen his reaction; she knew he recognized that valley.

“Its about four miles past the north fork, along the eastern portion of the largest ravine that runs down the mountain.”

“That could be anywhere,” he repeated, his tone stiff.

Cassa sat back in the booth and stared at Myron in confusion. What had happened over the years to change his attitude toward her? They used to be friends.

“What’s the problem, Myron?” she asked quietly. “You and I have exchanged information for years, what makes this time different? What makes today different from last year?”

His lips thinned as he looked away, his gaze focused outside the large windows of the café. When he turned back to her, the animosity wasn’t there, but neither was the friendliness she was used to seeing in him.

“You should stay out of the forest at night, especially if there’s something going on up there concerning Breeds and the Deadly Dozen,” he finally said, his voice pitched low as he leaned forward. “Listen to me, Cassa, these mountains are brutal, and I’m not just talking about the nature of them. Whatever you’re looking for here, let it go.”

Cassa sipped at her coffee as she gazed back at him. There was a darkness in his gaze, a warning that she couldn’t ignore. When she set her coffee back on the table, she made certain her expression reflected the determination she could feel inside to figure out what the hell was going on in Glen Ferris.

“You know me better than that, Myron,” she warned him firmly. “Just as I know you. You know what’s going on up there, don’t you? Is this something you’re working on yourself? We’ve worked together before; we could do it again.”

He had to know. She could see it in his face, in his eyes. And he wasn’t mentioning his first wife, or her death. He never had. Suddenly, she had a feeling that Myron was covering up much more than he had ever revealed to her about the Breeds. She knew he was.

“I stay out of those mountains now,” he snapped, his voice still low. “And that’s the advice I’d give anyone else. Stay the hell out.”

“And ignore the fact that people are dying. Again. Just as your first wife died.”

Myron flinched before he breathed in slowly as she spoke. She watched his nostrils flare, watched the dilation of his eyes and the flicker of his gaze toward the Breeds in the room.

No doubt they could hear exactly what was being said. A Breed’s hearing was excellent, much more sensitive than a human’s and she had a feeling they were there just to listen in on this particular meeting.

“People or monsters?” he snapped back. “I’m not worried about the death of something evil, so don’t look at me as though I should be. The Deadly Dozen should have been exterminated before they ever came together. You know that as well as I do. And I don’t discuss my first wife. Ever.”

“And if a Breed is doing the killing?” she hissed back at him. “What happens when he’s caught, or when that Breed sends the proof to a reporter who doesn’t care about anything but flashing it across every paper in the nation? Does that make up for your wife’s death, Myron? Or will it just see more Breeds murdered?”

His lips thinned. “Justice, Cassa. It would be no more than justice. You know that.”

“And if that justice is going to be used against the Breeds?” She lowered her voice further as his eyes narrowed on her once again. “What if I told you that the killer intends to frame the Breeds with certain murders? That there are pictures of the victims, their throats ripped out, their bodies clawed? What if, Myron, there were pictures of a Breed cleanup crew?” She nearly mouthed the last question. “What do you think that would do to everything we’ve both fought to save?”

She watched his expression closely. All emotion seemed to have been wiped from it, as a bleak anger flickered in his gaze.

“You know what’s going on here, don’t you, Myron?”

His lips parted.

“Myron.” A deep male voice voice piped up from behind Cassa. “There you are. Your wife’s looking for you, buddy.”

It seemed his wife was always looking for him.

Cassa watched, eyes narrowed, as the older gentleman slid into the booth beside Myron. “She was getting a little irate that you weren’t answering your cell phone.”

“Cell phone’s turned off,” Myron muttered as he slid out of the other side of the booth and stood up. The look he cast Cassa was that of warning, and concern. “If you need a ride to the airport tonight, let me know.”

With that, he grabbed his jacket and stalked from the booth. That was the warning. To leave now. It did nothing but make her more determined to stay.

“More coffee, Debra, if you don’t mind and a slice of that banana cream pie if you have any left.”

Cassa watched the stranger silently. In his fifties, with a wide, friendly smile and dark brown eyes. Thick, coarse gray hair was brushed back from his face, revealing strong, prominent bones.

Farmer Brown. A country boy in his maturity. He was the epitome of the strength and endurance of the mountains.

“A few slices, Walt, and it’s fresh.” The youthful Debra flashed the stranger a smile before turning to Cassa. “Anything else for you?”

“I’ll take the pie as well,” Cassa said. “And more coffee.”

Debra moved off as Cassa turned and glanced over at the Breeds still sitting several booths away from them.

“You have excellent timing,” she told Walt with a mocking smile. “Though I doubt Myron was going to tell me anything more than he already had.”

Walt arched a brow. “Really? Most people say my timing sucks. But that’s okay, whatever you think.” He leaned forward slowly. “Don’t change nothin’ though. Myron’s wife is lookin’ for him. And I think he said something about you needing a ride to the airport.”

Cassa almost grinned.

Cassa refused the offer. “Not quite yet. I haven’t seen Myron for a while, I would have liked to have caught up with him.”

Walt breathed out heavily at that. “He and Patricia have been having a hard time lately. When I saw him in here, I thought I’d let him know she was looking for him.”

Cassa frowned at that. Myron and Patricia were always at odds with each other. There had been times over the years that Cassa had wondered why they stayed together. And now she was beginning to wonder why everyone thought they needed to rescue Myron from Cassa.

“I know Myron knows you pretty well,” Walt stated as Debra set the coffee and pie on the table before leaving. “He’s spoken of you often.”

“Has he really?” Cassa ignored her own pie and braced her arms on the table as she watched him curiously. “Good things I hope.”

Walt laughed at that. “Pretty much what Cabal says about you. Stubborn. Tenacious. A bulldog when you’re after a story. I consider those compliments.”

Cassa continued to stare back at him with a hint of a question. Namely, why the hell Cabal would discuss her with anyone, let alone this old man.

“Cabal’s discussed me with you?” There was a tinge of anger in her voice that Cassa fought back. She had to ignore Cabal and any emotion that arose in her concerning him. She couldn’t allow herself to be taken by a man that would see her as no more than a possession. He would try to wrap her up, lock her up. And he’d proven he’d go to any lengths to do it.

Walt gazed around the diner, his eyes lingering on the two Breeds with narrow-eyed intent. Seconds later the two men glared back at him irately, but rose from their seats and headed to the counter to pay for their coffee.

“I’m impressed,” Cassa told her. “They don’t seem the sort to give up so easily.” Most Breeds didn’t.

Walt laughed at that, his hazel eyes twinkling. “I know them. They’re nosy as hell, but not really much trouble.”

Not exactly an honest description of any Breed. They were all trouble with a capital T, and those two Breeds were more than just nosy.

“So tell me, Ms. Hawkins, what are you looking for in Glen Ferris that has Myron looking as hunted as a Breed in Council territory?” Walt stared back at her curiously, his rough-hewn face creased into lines of sincerity.

Small towns, you had to love them, Cassa thought.

“David Banks. Anomalies. Anything to add to my story about his disappearance,” she answered blithely as she pulled her notebook free, snapped her pen open and then stared back at him expectantly. “Do you have any information?”

Walt laughed. “Banks was liked by some, hated by others. There was no in-between.” He shrugged. “I suspect he managed to slip and fall into the river. I figure they’ll find his body sometime around spring or so. Hell of a way to go if you ask me.”

She tilted her head and watched him silently for long moments.

“You seem pretty certain that was how he went,” she commented.

“Certain as I can be,” he drawled as he finished his pie. “Banks liked to play with Phillip Brandenmore and Horace Engalls quite a bit as well. Maybe they offed him.”

Or maybe someone was trying to throw up a hell of a smoke screen.

“Maybe.” She smiled tightly, pulled some money from her jeans and laid it on the table for the pie and coffee that she had barely touched. “Thank you anyway, Walt.”

She rose from her chair to leave, aware that the old man rose as well and followed her out of the restaurant.

“Ms. Hawkins.” Cassa paused as Walt’s voice hardened.

“Yes?” She turned back to him with a frown.

“Whatever you’re looking for here in Glen Ferris, you can trust me, if you’d be honest enough to let me know exactly what you need,” he said, his expression sober, sincere. “Let me help.”

“I’m sure Cabal wouldn’t approve,” Cassa warned him mockingly. “Jonas definitely wouldn’t.”

If the old man knew Cabal, then no doubt he knew Jonas. Cassa couldn’t bring herself to trust him though, whether Cabal or Jonas approved or not. There was something about “Walt” that warned her he was hiding much more than he was revealing.

Walt snorted at that. “Those two don’t scare me. They never have, and they won’t start now. You just have to know how to handle them.” He winked back in amusement. “A long chair and a sharp whip. It works every time.”

Cassa laughed, shaking her head. No truer words were ever spoken.

“Until they take the whip and break the chair?” she asked as they moved down the sidewalk.

“Well, there’s always that.” Walt laughed. “The idea though is to keep them from getting that close.”

As Cassa started to laugh at the comment, a shadow moving at her side had both her and the old gentleman twisting around. Cabal lounged against the brick face of the café, his dark gold brow arched, a knowing smile on his lips.

“Breeds aren’t that easy to control or to contain,” he informed them both, as he straightened and regarded them with mocking amusement. “But you can keep dreaming if you like.” He turned to Walt with a slow grin. “Good to see you, old man. How’s the fishing?”

“The fishing is damned good,” Walt assured him with an easy grin. “You should go out with me one day.”

“When time allows, Walt,” Cabal promised. “I’m a little busy right now.”

Cassa felt her heart spike, her flesh grow sensitive. Her breasts became swollen, her nipples pressing hard and tight against the bra she wore beneath her shirt as he turned his gaze back to her.

“So, you going to take Walt’s advice on how to handle Breeds?” he asked, his smile wicked.

“Fairy tales aren’t my thing,” Cassa informed him. “Unlike Walt, I know you and Jonas much too well to fall into that trap.”

But that didn’t keep her from flushing with heated hunger as his fingers wrapped around her upper arm. She swore she could feel his hand through the material of her jacket and the T-shirt she wore beneath. The heat of his fingers, the raspy feel of them, calloused and sensual—she swore she could almost feel his touch straight to the aching center of her clit.

She was wet, sensitive. The brush of her silk panties against her folds had her restraining a shiver of pleasure. And he knew it. Damn him.

“Oh, I know them well enough.” Walt smiled. “I just prefer to see the good in them rather than the bad. If there’s any bad to see.” He winked back suggestively. “Hell of a position for an old man to take, huh?”

It was a hell of a position for anyone to take in any situation. The rose-colored glasses were always put on at the most painful of times, and recovering from them wasn’t always possible.

“It’s a hell of a position for anyone to take,” Cassa muttered as she tugged at the hold Cabal had on her arm, before glaring at him. “Let me go.”

“Say please.” His smile was predatory and sent a tingle of arousal rushing through her body.

He knew what he was doing to her, and he was doing it deliberately. She could see it in his face, in the glitter of his green and amber gaze.

“Please.” She pushed the word through clenched teeth.

She didn’t like the feeling of warmth that overcame her, or the hunger she could feel rushing through her system. She didn’t like the emotions or the sensations that swept through her each time he was near. She especially didn’t like them amped up as they were now.

“I’ll be more than happy to after we talk,” he assured her, before turning to the old man with a brief “Later, Walt.”

His grip firmed on her arm as he began moving down the sidewalk, ignoring her silent protest as she tugged at his grip once again.

He was too forceful, too dominant. She wanted to kick him, but she had a feeling it would do very little good. Damned Breeds, stubborn bastards.

“Stop fighting me, Cassa,” he growled as she tried to jerk her arm out of his grip once more. “It’s time we talk.”

“Time we talk or time that I listen to you order me out of town again?” Her voice was sugary sweet. “Sorry, Cabal, but I’m rather busy today. Perhaps tomorrow.”

Turning the corner, he yanked her into the diner’s parking lot and strode along the parked cars. His fingers were still locked around her arm, pulling her behind him. Fighting his hold only made her angrier, simply because he acted as though he didn’t even notice the attempts.

“Here we go.” He stopped at the black SUV parked at the back of the lot and pressed the remote. The doors unlocked, and he gripped the handle and opened the driver’s side door. “Will you get in and stay put?”

“Not on your life.” She smiled back cheerily. “Want to tie me in the seat?” She looked around, and wasn’t it just her luck, there wasn’t a damned soul anywhere near. “Looks to me like the coast is clear if that’s your intention.”

“I’m going to get tired of these accusations, Cassa,” he said softly. “There is no way I’d hurt you, and you know it.”

His gaze flickered over her, heated and intense. There was sex in his eyes. Lust tightened his features and gave him a savage, honed appearance.

“I need you, Cassa. Now,” he growled.

Cassa lost the sarcasm. She felt her expression go blank with the hunger that rumbled in his voice and reflected in his gaze now.

“And that’s all that matters? Where were you last night? This morning?”

Where had he been when she awoke needing his touch? Needing him to hold her. She could feel the hunger for him deepening now though, the need, a steady ache blooming in her womb. She had always known it would take little more than one of those sizzling looks to have her melting at his feet. And she was right. That was all it was taking.

“Like you, I had things to do.” He reached up and touched her jaw with the backs of his fingers. “You’re taking the hormones, and evidently they’re working. You would have called my cell otherwise.”

“Begged for your attention, you mean?” She huffed bitterly. “Yeah, let me get right to my knees and start on that.”

“You wouldn’t have to beg, Cassa.” His tone became seductive, deep with sensual promise.

She wanted to shake her head, but could only stare up at him in surprise now.

“You’re playing a game.” She knew he was. “You think you can seduce me out of this story.”

His head jerked back as anger lit his gaze. “Seduction?” He growled. “I barely think so, mate. I doubt I could seduce you into agreeing the sky was blue if you wanted to believe it was green. I have no pretenses that you could ever be persuaded so easily to give up a story.”

“But you’ll try,” she accused him, anger and knowledge churning inside her as the need wrapped around her senses, tormenting her.

Touch. He was touching her, and touch was something she had denied herself for far too many years. She needed him. Ached for him.

His head lowered again, his gaze locked with hers as his lips whispered a kiss along her lips. “So resist me, Cassa. That’s all you have to do is walk away. If you can. Walk away, or accept the fact that the fight is over. You’re my mate. And that’s something that may well destroy both of us.”