Howl Deadly (29 page)

“Great!” I exclaimed. “What are they?”

“The winner based the names on the fact that the wolves were rescued by HotWildlife. Mama’s name is now Pepper—the epitome of hot. The male pup is Cal—for ‘caliente,’ ‘hot’ in Spanish. The girls are Sparkie and Flame. Perfect, in my opinion.”

“And no wonder,” I said, “in the opinion of the man who owns HotPets.” The names were perhaps a little too cute for wild wolves, but, hey, they weren’t likely to know their monikers or care about them.

No one, apparently, had claimed a reward for helping to find the missing mama wolf—certainly not Esta—and the only man eligible to ask for it certainly wasn’t about to go public.

I soon said goodbye to an extremely pleased Lauren. She had started the day looking so stiff that I knew she was nervous. Now, her green eyes glowed, and she appeared to be a happy kid—even though I’d figured she was older than me. “I hope that neither HotRescues nor I ever need legal representation again,” she said, “but if we do, you’re at the top of our list.”

 

 

 

AS PROMISED, I headed back to the San Bernardino Mountains the next day after my early pet-sitting rounds, bringing Lexie so she’d be able to hang out with her friend Wagner. I dropped her off at Dante’s home and headed to the hospital, where he was just being released. They’d kept him a little longer to be sure he was healing okay.

After all, he was Dante DeFrancisco, and they wouldn’t need the bad publicity if he took a turn for the worse after going home too soon.

He looked a whole lot better than he had yesterday, and even managed to appear sexy as an aide pushed him to the curb in a wheelchair.

Back at his luxurious cabin, Dante thanked his staff and asked them to return tomorrow. He probably would hang around for a few more days before chancing the long, bumpy road back to L.A.

And then, except for the dogs, we were alone.

I propped him up with pillows on his lush leather sofa, wanting him to be as comfy as possible. I’d taken a change of his clothes with me to the hospital, so he now wore jeans and a loose brown sweatshirt over his bandage.

It was Tuesday afternoon. I brought him a sandwich and coffee from the kitchen, courtesy of the staff before they left. Lexie and Wagner, on the floor nearby, were charmed by the smell and started begging, to no avail. Well, to little avail. We did give them some small treats.

When we were done, I let Dante finish watching an investment show on a business channel.

And then I dug into what I wanted to know as the dogs went to sleep at our feet.

“I think I understand a lot of what started that whole Jon Doe situation, but I want you to tell me the rest.”

His smile was both amused and rueful. I knew he’d rather go off on a tangent than follow the direction I’d set for him.

“I gather that you pretty well filled in the blanks in the story I told you,” he said. “Especially with Callaway’s help.”

I stared at him in surprise. “How did you know I spoke with him?”

“Your favorite P.I., Jeff, told me—and also how you’d sneaked Callaway’s number from my cell phone.”

Oops. I guess I’d mentioned that tidbit to Jeff when he’d inquired. But why were Jeff and Dante discussing this situation? “So Jeff and you talked?”

“I called him from the hospital when you weren’t around. Since you weren’t being particularly forthcoming about how you’d gotten the clue that led to our missing wolf, I decided to ask him. He seemed okay with filling me in. Even said he figured I should know what you’d been up to, especially after you contacted the feds, since I might be in a better position than he is to take care of you.”

“I’m glad Jeff and you are becoming buddies,” I said sarcastically. At least it sounded as if Jeff was conceding that he and I weren’t involved anymore. He still sounded concerned about me, though, which was sweet. Maybe. “Anyway, please continue.”

Dante repositioned himself, hunkering down as if bracing for something less than pleasant. “Okay, here goes. But you still have to keep this utterly confidential.”

“I will,” I said. “That was part of my deal with Callaway, before he told me where to find . . . Pepper.”

“You made a deal with him? Hubbard didn’t get into that.”

“Kinda. Now go ahead. Tell me about your work with Callaway and what happened.”

“Not much to say about our work. We reported to him on a task force that dealt with confiscating and disposing of property seized in federal felony cases. Brody and I were still fairly raw and unseasoned back then, both intending to shake the world—but not the way that was being done, with members of the task force taking property for themselves. When we learned what was going on right under the government’s nose, we figured the higher-ups would appreciate being told—but instead the shit really hit the fan. They couldn’t make us the scapegoats, since we’d already made noise and it would be obvious what they were doing. Dubbs—later known as Doe—agreed, for a price. They even found a way to fudge his fingerprints in AFIS. But he grew more and more angry and disillusioned—probably encouraged by Callaway and his crew, even while he served time in prison. I’m sure they prodded him to get his revenge on us for giving up what was going on—and shut us up, too. Now, some of this is our surmising—Brody’s and mine.”

He looked at me, and I nodded that I understood. He couldn’t actually know all this, but his guesses would be more than educated.

He continued, “Doe’s initial purpose was to scope out what I was up to and find a way to dispose of me quietly, and Brody next. Most likely, Callaway helped him develop a fake identity and background. And he was definitely younger than his purported age—closer to Brody’s and mine. Fortunately, there were enough impediments to stop his plans to kill us. Like Krissy stealing the wolf, and Doe finding out about it.”

Aha! That was undoubtedly how Callaway had learned where mama wolf had gone—via Jon Doe.

“Doe threatened to squeal on her, so she wanted a way to get back at him—and hung around him when she could. That was how, eavesdropping on Doe’s conversations with Callaway, she learned he intended to get rid of me. In her own misguided way, she did kill him for my sake. But she got angry when she kept seeing how I felt about you, after you kept coming to HotWildlife with me—and leaving with me, too. She decided both to protect herself and, like Doe, get her revenge on me by framing me. Brody, too, if it worked out that way. She didn’t care. And I’d not be at all surprised if she also had a plan to get rid of you—unless she thought that sending me to prison for life would hurt you enough.”

“Nice lady,” I said sarcastically. “So she left me those threats?”

“Probably, and I suspect Callaway encouraged her. Doe/Dubbs probably told him all about Krissy when things started to happen around here.”

“Interesting,” I observed. “So they were in touch, too, and he apparently used her for his own nasty purposes. It’s additionally interesting that she never did anything to follow through. She never actually harmed me.”

“That might have meant revealing herself earlier,” Dante said.

“Maybe.” Now, I would be the one getting revenge—since I felt sure she’d be convicted of Doe’s murder.

“And as for the local sheriff’s department identification of Doe/Dubbs, with or without fingerprints . . . I can only speculate on that, but I figure Callaway, whether or not in his official capacity, dropped a few hints on their doorstep.”

I’d assumed that, too, but was certain Callaway wouldn’t confirm it.

“So what about Callaway?” I asked, my concern suddenly spiking as my mind mulled over the situation. “If he wanted Brody and you dead, and now apparently has it in for me, are we safe?”

“Pretty much. I’ve discussed it all with Brody, and he’s been in touch with Callaway’s superiors, including some who hadn’t liked Dubbs’s taking all the blame to begin with. I suspect our buddy will be too busy covering his own butt to even consider coming after us—especially since his threats are part of the whole updated, ugly story that Brody revealed, including Callaway’s possible complicity in Dubbs’s plans against Brody and me, and even in Dubbs’s death. So . . . is that enough detail for now?”

“I think so, but I’ll ask if I come up with any other questions. And I do expect you to keep me in the loop if you learn more about how Callaway’s being investigated by his superiors.”

“I’ll tell you as much as I legitimately can, considering the classified nature of what’s going on.”

“I guess that’s got to be good enough.” I was still somewhat concerned, but knew that Dante, and Brody, would have my back. And I’d stay especially alert while Dante was healing.

“So, unless there’s anything else you need to tell me—do you want to watch your money shows again?” This subject had been covered enough . . . for now. I had brought along some fascinating legal stuff, and could always play with e-mail on my laptop computer.

“In a minute.” He reached out his arms, and, smiling, I settled into them, careful not to touch his injured side. We kissed. And again. And again.

And I wondered how much it would hurt him if we adjourned to the bedroom.

Hell, that could wait. Something to look forward to.

Absolutely.

He pulled slightly away and got an extremely serious expression in those deep, dark eyes of his. “I think you know by now, Kendra, that I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Oh, lord, that particular
L
word made me crazy. Heat, cold, and terror all tumbled through me.

I’d always been so awful at picking men. And this time, if I let my feelings go wild, would I lose him? Or would he turn out to be a louse like so many of the rest?

And then there was the fact that I’d dumped Jeff Hubbard partly because he’d suspected me in a situation he was investigating. I’d considered Dante a suspect in two murders. Could he—did he—really love me?

Well, he’d said he did.

He’d apparently cared a lot for someone at least once before—a woman who’d died in a car crash. He’d mentioned her, said he’d tell me about her, but never seemed ready to talk about her. I’d already decided it was past history. I didn’t really need to know. Hardly even thought about it now.

But I supposed it meant he was capable of love. Did I dare trust him to genuinely love me?

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” he asked. His tone was patient, but he looked hurt.

“Well . . . I think that’s wonderful, Dante,” I said brightly.

“That’s it? How do you feel? Should I just walk away before it gets worse?”

“No!” I exclaimed, suddenly recalling how scared I was when he was stabbed and I thought I might lose him that way. His walking away would be somewhat better—certainly for him—but it still would be terrible. Yet—“You can’t walk very far right now. You’ve been hurt.”

He shook his head, although at least he was smiling. “You do know how to change the subject, don’t you? Well, even if I can’t walk away today, you can go home.”

Home? Without him? Under these conditions, after his amazing assertion? And hadn’t I thought, not long ago, that I just might come to . . .

“I love you, too!” I blurted. It popped out involuntarily. And yet, once I’d said it, and he’d taken me into his arms and kissed me, I couldn’t help but feel glad.

Would I feel that way in a minute? An hour? A day?

Who knew?

Almost as if echoing my thoughts, Dante pulled back and looked down at me with sensuously flashing eyes . . . and said, “Then what’s next, Kendra?”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Not now.

But I absolutely intended to figure it out right along with him. For now. And . . . forever?

Guess we’d find out.