Yellowstone Wolf

LESLIE STARR:

A body lay on the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue hidden among flawless pruned shrubs.

Another victim.

I snaked both arms around my waist, trying to ward off the eerie darkness slithering along my spine. This woman had the same stoic look as the last two. Something about these dead women reminded me of Grace.

Across the street protest marchers carried signs saying “SHIFTER LIVES MATTER.” If the police didn’t catch the killer soon, they’d have a riot on their hands.

The blue lights of DC’s finest officers created a shield around the victim. I stood on the corner waiting to be allowed to enter the crime scene. I flashed my Paranormal Federal Bureau of Investigations badge. The officer waved me in. I ducked under the yellow police tape. “I’m here to see the police chief.”

The officer pointed me in his direction.

“Third girl this month.” Larry bounced on the balls of his feet and continued to investigate the body.

The deceased woman’s blonde-streaked black hair lay strewn down her breast. Her lips painted blue. Perfect chiseled cheek bones and almond shaped eyes. Her ankles bound with silver coiled rope and a warlock destiny symbol carved across her flat stomach.

I might not have been a forensic detective, but obviously someone wanted to send a strong message. I pushed my glasses to the top of my head squinting. “Thanks for the text.”

“I could use your knowledge of warlock magic.” “What about the reporters standing behind the tape?”

“We’re trying to keep the press away, especially since every one of these women resemble Grace Isaeva.”

Grace was my best friend, but most important she was the former President of the United States. After she passed the civil rights legisla‐ tion, gaining the shifter population equal rights, she’d taken leader‐ ship of the PFBI. I drew in a breath to take in the fact just over a year ago I’d broken the biggest news story of my career only to find myself under scrutiny by the shifter organization I was trying to help. The hurt still lingered in my heart, so I resigned from CNN as a news reporter. Grace offered me a job overseeing the magical other worlds that co-existed with the humans. At least I was able to put my knowl‐ edge of modern witchcraft to good use. “Do you think our perp is killing these women for revenge?”

“The thought has crossed my mind.”

Larry jotted notes in his phone. He stopped at the victim’s feet. “What can you tell me about the symbols?”

I walked around the body and knelt at her side to get a better look of the painted images on her stomach.

“Human or shifter?” If she was human instead of another shifter then there was a chance our killer wasn’t targeting the clans.

“Wolf.” An officer who worked street patrol gave us her name. “Which pack?”

“Local girl. She’s part of the Smith pack outside town. Her pack’s pretty riled up and demanding the department turn the investigation over to the shifter authorities.”

Brigit came strutting up in a pair of blue jeans and a red tank top. Larry would drop a log if he knew she was a Celtic fire goddess. Brigit worked as a secret operative agent for the Central Intelligence, better known as “The Agency.“ As an agent, she occasionally helped out the PFBI on difficult cases.

“What’s up, Leslie?” Brigit came over and planted a kiss on my right cheek leaving her trademark red lipstick behind.

“What about me?” Larry waved his arms.

“Ahh, Larry, what would your lovely wife say if you came strutting home with my lipstick on your face?”

“She’d kick my ass.”

“Thought so.” Brigit focused her attention back to me. “Grace wants to talk with you. There have been two more victims found in Yellowstone.”

Larry looked at me then to Brigit. “Is the modus operandi the same?”

“Yep. Same hair patterns, blue lips, and a warlock destiny symbol drawn across their naked stomach,” Brigit stated before turning to me. “Grace is concerned.”

“If you want my opinion, those protest marchers probably have something to do with the urgency and the fact all our victims resemble Grace,” Larry said.

I stooped down to the dead girl holding back my gag reflex. “Look at this. The diamond shaped symbol is a palette of purple and green shades within the triangles.”

“Don’t touch the body.” The coroner moved in closer taking photographs.

“Make sure I get a copy of those images,” Larry said.

“The perpetrator must want to communicate who he is.” Brigit stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

She was right. The murder of these women reminded me of the horrific deaths at Montana’s wildlife refuge. The very case that caused me to leave CNN. Something about the fact that none of these women had shifted bothered me. Each victim appeared to be immobile, not one broken nail, scratch, or any sign of a fight. I fought the burning of cold fear percolating in the turmoil of my stomach.

“Could we be dealing with the same killers who’d hunted the shifters for sport last year?”

“Possible.”

“The ones we’d found in the cages had the same paralyzed look as these girls.”

Larry nudged me to follow him, letting the coroner and his staff finish their investigation. “Keep me informed of any information the PFBI finds. We still might be dealing with a human killer.”

I drew in a deep breath and sighed heavily, letting my body calm. “Sure thing.”

LESLIE:

I left the murder scene and went to find Grace. Her assistant motioned for me to go right in. “She’s expecting you.”

I tapped on the door and entered. “Hi, Leslie.”

“What’s she doing here?” Roger, Grace’s brother and my ex-lover, turned toward me.

His long ebony hair was swept back and tied at the nape of his neck. He assessed me with a bold glare of disapproval. His gorgeous golden-brown eyes still did things to my girl parts. My heart jolted and my pulse pounded.

“I asked her to update us. She’s been called in as a magical consul‐ tant to the police department.” Grace’s stern gaze darted from Roger to me.

I hadn’t seen much of Roger since he’d moved to Wyoming where he bought a ranch, and became alpha leader of the Yellowstone pack. But with Grace’s wedding this weekend I knew I wouldn’t be able to avoid him. I just didn’t expect to see him in a middle of an inves‐ tigation.

“What are the local police doing about the kidnapping and killing of our women?” Roger clenched his hand.

I could tell he fought the anger boiling inside him. Whenever he grew distraught his right brow furrowed.

“I’ve called in an investigative paranormal team to help figure out why our killer is only targeting wolf shifter females,” Grace said.

“And you think involving the human police force is a good idea?” Roger fisted his hand and looked at me as though I’d contacted them.

“What choice do we have? The murders have drawn the local law enforcement’s attention. With all the civil right marches, the shifter council finds their hands are tied. The PFBI will work closely with them being careful not to step on shifter jurisdiction,” Grace stated in an authoritative tone, letting Roger know the discussion was over.

I didn’t miss his obvious examination of me. He grimaced in distaste. Ironically his distrust cut deep because he didn’t believe I had his back, but I’d always been his biggest supporter, and in truth, I still was. His scowl darkened, and I flinched at his disregard of my integrity. “I’m busy Grace, I’ll come back later and update you on my findings.”

“Sorry Leslie, but I need you to supervise this investigation and be our correspondent with the human police.” I hadn’t expected that and stood rooted to the spot.

“The last thing I need is a nosy ex-reporter questioning the packs.” He placed his hands flat on Grace’s desk and leaned forward. Every muscle grew taut against the black T-shirt with the Crescent Moon Ranch logo across the back. Over the last year, he’d become brawny and tanned. Desire clouded my senses, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d be throwing caution to the wind and finding a way to bring this man back to my bed.

“That’s why I need your help. I’ve called in Seth, Trent, and the other wolf pack leaders. They’ll arrive Monday morning.”

“Tell me about the two other victims.” I reached for my purple glasses and pushed them on top of my head.

“One of the women is from Canyon Village and the other from the Silver Gates community,” Grace said.

Roger’s frustration showed in the way his brow furrowed and his eye twitched. A quirk that had grown on me. I’d always known when to step in and diffuse any confrontation, especially with his over‐ bearing Isaeva relatives from his human father’s family.

“Did anyone take photographs?” I moved closer and gently touched Roger’s arm. I released a breath when I felt the tension leave his body. He turned toward me and for an instant our gazes met. He lowered his eyes and rebuffed my touch leaving me feeling out-of- sorts.

Grace caught the interaction between us but didn’t bat an eye. Cool as a cucumber, my best friend continued, ignoring our tit-for-tat squabble.

“My assistant has the files on the two Yellowstone victims.” Grace tapped her pencil on her desk and glanced back at Roger. “The bureau believes the DC and Yellowstone murders are the tip of the iceberg. I need both of you on the inside. People I can trust.”

Not what I expected her to say. I’d braced myself to see Roger at Grace’s wedding and not react emotionally, but I was wrong. My heart screamed with remembered passion. All I needed to do was survive the weekend and he’d return to Wyoming, but working with him in close proximity was out of the question. “I agree with Roger, working together isn’t a good idea.” I kept my words calm. No way was I going to allow him to know he still affected me.

“Why?” Grace placed both hands on her hips and gave us both the stare.

“Your brother’s an arrogant asshole who doesn’t see past his own macho pride.”

He chuckled and moved toward me.

I drank in the nearness of him. His earthy scent of winter pine filled me with memories of a night I’d never forget six years ago. The night I’d given him my heart and soul underneath my Christmas tree. In the last year and a half, I thought I’d gotten over him, but all the desire and hurt came flooding back like a tidal wave.

“See—she agrees.”

“That you’re stubborn.” Grace picked up her cell and sent a text. “I need Leslie’s knowledge of magic and her talents in scoping out a story, so I expect you to put aside your differences and work together. Many lives may depend on it.”

“Leslie’s abrasiveness will insult the alphas of the various clans. She’ll need to tone down and submit her allegiance to those in charge.”

“You’re out of your damn mind. I know what I’m doing and have no intention of playing second fiddle to anyone, especially a bunch of shifters with a female complex.” Ever since Roger rejected his life in DC for the hills of Wyoming, he’d changed and become less eager to spend time with his Isaeva family or me.

Roger turned to me and his brow furrowed. I inhaled a breath and pushed forward I never cared for the rules of pack life and their archaic attitudes of submissive beliefs. But I did love Roger’s ability to make me scream his name when he pinned me against him. This was bringing back too many unresolved feelings. I didn’t know how I’d get through the weekend or this damn investigation that Grace was so fucking determined to include Roger in.

He balled his fist as if he wanted to silence me from speaking my mind.

“If you expect the bear and cougar shifters to follow your leader‐ ship, you’ll need to gain their acceptance, and that won’t happen if you charge in like you already have the answers.”

“That’s where I need you,” Grace said, giving Roger a sharp look. “Pave the way. They’ll accept Leslie in their midst if you vouch for her integrity.”

“She’s an outsider. She’ll never fit in with the local townspeople.”

A bittersweet crest of emotion filled my voice. “Like not being good enough to be an alpha’s wife.”

He winced. “You don’t listen to anyone else but yourself. In the pack—”

“Come off it, Roger. You’re pissed because I’m usually right. Most things are easily solved using logic, but no, you have to go make an emotional hill out of a grain of sand and blame me for the media exploitation.”

“And that’s the problem. All you care about is the story.”

I shut my mouth. He was wrong; I did care. For weeks after the Montana refuge story broke, images of those lifeless bodies in the cages haunted me. But I hadn’t become this good at bringing down the bad guys by letting emotions dictate my actions. Feelings for the individual got in the way. Feelings got you killed. Feelings meant innocent people died. Fuck, I hated this part of my job.

“If you believe that about me, then we have nothing left to discuss.” In one smooth, angry motion I moved to the door. Our gazes battled for long moments before I glanced back to Grace.

“Do you know the emotional distress it caused the shifter children seeing their parents stuffed on the lodge’s trophy wall?” His voice was low and trembling much like my own.

“I did, but the injustices of the hunters had to be aired. The activist behind the refuge had to be exposed to stop the vigilante killings.”

Grace had authorized the press to release the graphic details in order to divulge the cruelties happening in the shifter towns. Roger blamed me. His anger was still as strong as if the story aired today.

Grace stood behind her desk and whistled. “Time out!”

Stunned, we stopped our tirade and gave Grace our complete attention.

“Roger, I need Leslie in Yellowstone. There’s another problem, and I believe they might be connected.”

“What’s up?” I ignored Roger and took a seat across from Grace’s desk.

“There’s word on the street that David and Norman have located the two wolf shifters accused of raping and syphoning Sheila’s magic. The rogue wolves are in Wyoming. I need you to locate the two shifters and bring them here for their own safety.”

“What?” I pulled my glasses off letting them dangle in my hand. I eyed Grace with an incredulous frown. That’s the connection. I believe someone wants us to think your ex-fiancé and his brother are behind the killings, but why?

Leslie knew that the two rogue wolves disappeared shortly after being accused. If you weren’t in a pack, you were left on your own. In their world, you might find yourself hunted without the protection of a pack.

Grace bit her bottom lip and looked to Roger. “I don’t want any wolf’s death on my conscience.”

“If they’re innocent, we’re dooming them to mob mentality and judgement without a fair trial.”

“The PFBI will guarantee their safety while in custody.” Her bold glance made it clear this topic wasn’t up for discussion.

“I’m not allowing innocent men to pay for a crime they didn’t commit.” Roger paced toward the window, ran his fingers through his sleek black hair.

I looked over the rim of my glasses, stupefied at his words. “Why are you so certain they’re innocent?” The blood drained from my face and tears blurred my vision. The possibility that five women were tortured and murdered because of the warlock’s revenge really upset me.

“Shifters can’t steal magic, only a fae or an extremely powerful mage can do that.” Roger pulled at his dark stubbled chin.

“Why does Norman and David believe that the rogue shifters are responsible?”

“When David located his sister, the shifters were leaning over her tattered and bruised body.” Grace tapped her pencil faster than a woodpecker pounding outside my window. “They ran off when David appeared like a raving maniac.

“Isn’t David still facing criminal charges for the Hoover building explosion?” I slumped into the leather chair in front of her desk.

“The district attorney’s dropping the case against him. Not enough evidence linking him to the fire.”

“What about the fact he attempted to harm you?” My voice grew dark, fighting back the bile at the injustice within the system.

“No proof.”

“Do you think David’s responsible for the murder of the two girls and is possibly using his sister as a way to hide his anger against you?” Roger asked.

“Five,” I corrected him.

His right brow furrowed, a sure sign of his displeasure. If he started grinding his teeth all hell was going to break loose.

“Instinct. Revenge. Hate. Pick any one of those reasons.” Grace snapped the pencil she’d been holding. “The fact that every one of those girls resembles me makes me believe that I’m involved somehow.”

“I’ll find the shifters.”

Taking another pencil, Grace wrote down an address. “I’ve booked you a room at the bed and breakfast, the Inn on the Creek. The loca‐ tion’s ideal and the reviews are excellent. You’ll check in Tuesday after our meeting with the other local shifters on Monday.”

“Nothing but the best for our Starrrrr investigator.” Roger snarled, shaking his head.

“You could invite her to stay in one of your cabins on the ranch.” “I could, but I won’t.”

I stuck out my tongue for no good reason except that Roger frus‐ trated me. What was I, ten? But the dig on my last name always got to me and he knew it.

“I have no idea how the two of you are going to work together, but figure it out. I want those shifters brought in and the killer found before any other women wind up in the morgue.”