Despicable by Rory Miles

BELLATRIX

When I see Dax and Creed walking with a man in cowboy boots, I know shit’s about to get real. This must be the investigator. His tan cowboy hat sits atop a head full of curls, giving him a boyish appeal, but his eyes are laser focused. His appearance screams cop, and from all the way up here, I can still feel when the weight of his stare settles on me.

“He’s staring at me,” I breathe to Ronan, the words barely audible.

“He’ll think better of starting shit if he wants to make it off the island in one piece,” he whispers back.

“That kind of talk will make you a suspect.” I frown. “I’m sure it’s his job to consider all suspects and I was Chad’s fated.”

“He won’t take you off this island.”

My heart warms. “Thanks, Big Guy.”

“Anything for you, Trix.”

The weight in those words is much more grave than it should be for the short time we’ve known each other, but then again, broken souls bond best with other broken souls, right?

“Hey, Trix.” Dax’s voice carries to us. “Can you come down?”

With a reluctant sigh, I stand. Ronan is up a second after me and practically climbs over me to get down the ladder first. My feet hit the ground, and I cling to the last rung for a second, taking a steadying breath before walking to the street to meet the investigator. A warm breeze curls around me, carrying the scent of the water with it. The sun is high in the sky now, and the temperature has risen enough to make a bit of sweat pool at the small of my back. Or maybe the investigator’s intense stare is doing that.

I didn’t kill Chad, but it’s clear he’s not convinced. Creed nods at me in encouragement when I flick my gaze to meet his; his forehead is creased with concern so the gesture doesn’t do much to reassure me.

“Hello.” I wave, like a weirdo, and try not to grimace at my ridiculous impression of normal.

“Bellatrix, this is Investigator Wilson. Wilson, this is Trix.” Dax gestures in my direction.

Awkwardly stepping forward, I extend my hand. The cowboy hat casts a small shadow across his face, but it’s light enough to see the way his eyes slightly narrow before he reaches out and clamps his fingers around mine. You know those handshakes that are either limp and creepy or aggressive and startling? Wilson’s grip is somewhere in between, intimidating enough to make me tighten my fingers slightly, but gentle enough to put me a little more at ease.

Calm and controlled. He studies my face for a second, withdrawing his hand before shooting his gaze around the guys.

“Dax tells me you were on a walk when you found the body?” he asks, voice raspy like he smoked a few too many cigarettes. With his outfit, I can almost picture him on the back of a horse riding off into the sunset while smoking.

“Yes.”

Something I learned from getting into trouble when I was younger, don’t give them more than they ask for. They want to make you talk, because they want to catch you in lies. I don’t have any lies, but I’m not about to spill my guts to him and make myself seem more suspicious.

“And where were you last night?” No smile. Only a blank stare and expectations of me answering everything he might ask.

“I was with Creed.”

“She stayed in my bed,” he chimes in.

“Hmm.” The investigator looks at Dax. “Where were you last night?”

“Sleeping,” Dax says without flinching. “Ronan was on guard. Are we official suspects?”

“That’s yet to be determined.” Wilson pushes the brim of his hat, lifting it up a bit.

“Do you want to come to the house?” I ask, pointing down the road. “I’m burning up.”

“If you don’t mind.” Another blink and almost bored look, if it weren’t for the sharp focus of his eyes, I’d think he was only here out of obligation.

We get to the house and Dax goes to make coffee. Wilson, Creed, Ronan, and I sit in the living room. The guys on either side of me and the investigator in the recliner across from the couch.

“You all live together?”

“Yes.” Again, no need to explain. Our living arrangement has nothing to do with a murder.

“And you’re dating Creed?” He lifts an eyebrow, sliding his gaze to Ronan to check his reaction.

Nosy, perceptive bastard.

“Actually I’m sleeping with all of them, but I’m not sure what that has to do with the murder.”

The edge of his mouth barely lifts, and he nods. “Just gathering facts, Bellatrix. So you were sleeping with Creed last night. Where was Chad?”

Sighing, I shake my head. “I don’t know. Obviously by the dock at some point.”

Dax brings in two mugs, grabs two more and sits down on the other recliner, turning it so he’s facing Wilson.

“Would you say you’re attached to her?” He directs this question to the men.

I press my lips together, wondering why he’s questioning all of us at once. Don’t these things usually happen one on one? I don’t know if I want to hear their answer to this question. What if they’re not attached and I am? Sex is one thing. Logically, I know we’ve all gotten close in a short amount of time, but attachment can mean something different to them than it does to me.

“Trix is family,” Creed says.

“I thought you were sleeping with her. You have sex with your family?”

Now the investigator is being obtuse.

“Yeah, we’re having sex with her, but our relationship isn’t only about that. You’ve never been rejected, so you might not understand, but Trix fills in the void the rejected bond left inside of me. Sure, she’s gorgeous and amazing in bed, but her heart and ridiculous sense of humor eases some of the pain.”

“So you love her.”

“No,” Dax cuts in.

My heart stops beating until he says, “Not yet anyway. It’s only been a month, so there are feelings that’ll lead us all to love, but you have to understand, it takes time to heal and trust a person after being rejected.”

The investigator looks at me. “You love them?”

I bite my lip, not wanting to hurt their feelings by saying no, but I’m in complete agreement with Dax. I don’t love them. Yet.

“No.”

Ronan and Creed’s hands fall on my thigh, letting me know they’re not upset. Sometimes taking care not to toss out the I love you phrase early on isn’t so bad.

“But like Dax said, we’re on the way to love.” I smile at Dax. “I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.”

He grins. “I’d drag you back if you tried to run away.”

“You know that’s creepy, right? I knew you were a stalker.”

“Only for you,” he shoots back.

The investigator clears his throat.

Crap.

“He’s not a stalker,” I say quickly, “we’re joking.”

“I do understand humor, but thank you for clarifying.”

Wrinkling my nose, I hold his stare. “What else? I wish we had more.”

“What about Harlow?”

I suck in a breath and glance at Dax.

“She makes the most sense,” he says with a shrug. “And with the note…”

Oh. I forgot about that. Pulling it out and handing it to Wilson, I watch him read it, sucking in my cheek.

“Say it is Harlow. Why would she do this?”

Rubbing my eyebrow, I frown. “Chad tried to kidnap me. He didn’t make it far, and Harlow came to the rescue in her wolf form. Between the two of us, we managed to delay him long enough for Dax to come.”

“And what happened when you arrived?” The investigator leans back in the recliner, putting his hand over his mouth.

“I took care of things.”

He’s not impressed by Dax’s vague answer. He rests his arm on the chair and leans toward him. “Meaning?”

“I kicked his ass.”

Fighting off the smile that threatens to take hold, I glance at my lap and study my hands. It probably wouldn’t be good to laugh right now. A few moments pass in a silence so absolute you could hear a hair fall to the carpeted floor.

“And Harlow, of all people, is the one who killed him? Because she felt bad someone she hardly knows almost got kidnapped by her fated mate?”

“When you say it like that, it sounds ridiculous.” I cross my arms over my chest. “She’s targeted two other men. Maybe she snapped.”

“Hmm. That would be rather convenient.”

“Listen,” Dax growls, grinding his teeth together. “If you have something to say or ask, be direct.”

God he’s so cute when he’s angry.

“Well, since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you what I think.” Wilson cuts his eyes to me. “Sounds like you made some fast friends, and using your feminine wiles, you got these men, or one of them, to take care of Chad because you were mad he rejected you.”

“Like fuck,” Creed mutters.

“Yeah, nice try dude. If we were going to kill him, we wouldn’t have left the body for you to find.” Ronan scoffs.

“So how would you dispose of it?”

Ronan holds his hands up. “I’m not playing this game. You either need to officially charge us, or stop fucking around.”

I grin without restraint. “It’s okay, Ronan. The investigator knows we didn’t do it, don’t you?” I lean forward, searching his face. “But you knew that before we even got in the house, didn’t you?”

He finally cracks a smile. “You think you know me?”

Shrugging, I sit back into Creed and Ronan’s arms. “I think you’re wasting a lot of time with us before you go follow your instincts, and I bet your instincts are telling you we’re not the right suspects.” Slowly arching an eyebrow, I harden my stare. “Am I wrong?”

I’m truly going out on a limb with this guess, because my intuition has only led me astray a few times.

“Only a little.” He glances around the living room. “I figured you all weren’t the suspects when Dax went to make coffee. You don’t make coffee if you’re guilty. Hell, you don’t answer as many questions as you all did without asking for a pack lawyer.”

Everyone relaxes a little at his confession.

“Be nice to her,” I say, glancing at my hands. “She’s not all bad.”

Dax gives me a curious look.

“She helped me, and even if she did tell me to leave her house the first day, she didn’t have to let me stay out of the rain to begin with, so she has a heart. It might be buried under a lot of pain and obviously mental issues, but she still has a heart underneath all of that.”

“She killed three men.” The investigator rubs his jaw. “Doesn’t seem so good to me.”

“One of which was not entirely unjustified, or at least, not to her. Chad was close to feral, demanding to talk to me or take me away from the guys. I think she wanted to protect me.”

I chew on my bottom lip, studying the cowboy. He’s big, maybe not as big as Dax, but he’s definitely a strong shifter. On top of that, there’s a gun at his waist which is most likely loaded with silver and behind that is one of those deadly tasers. I shudder, remembering what it felt like to have those high-powered currents of electricity racing through me.

“I’m not going to hurt her if that’s what you’re worried about.” He taps the butt of his gun. “This is only in extreme cases. If she’s reasonable and doesn’t attack me, there will be no need.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” I mutter, glancing at Dax. “Maybe I should go talk to her first?”

“I don’t know,” he says, checking with the guys. They’re tense beside me, clearly concerned.

“Harlow won’t hurt me.” How I know this with such certainty is beyond me, but if she wanted to harm me, she had plenty of opportunities.

She’s a reject, like the rest of us, and she’s probably hurting. While that pain doesn’t justify her actions, she deserves a little compassion. Maybe a bit of understanding and a friendly face before the hawkeyed investigator struts up in his cowboy boots to arrest her.

Wilson clears his throat. “Perhaps it’s not a bad idea. You can provide a distraction so I can get close enough to catch her if she tries to run.”

I frown at the thought of him yanking his gun from his holster and shooting her, gunning her poor brokenhearted wolf down. She killed three people, so I know she has to face the consequences of those actions. It doesn’t make it any easier though.

“Okay,” I say with a nod. “I’ll go first. Give me ten minutes with her?”

I’m not exactly in a position to make requests, but he dips his head at me, tipping his hat up.

“Tell her it’ll be easier if she doesn’t run.”