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“Where are the rest of them?”
“They’re gone, too.”
“Did they leave on foot?”
Kurt snorted at that and boarded his bike. Waving his arm over his head, he threw up a peace sign with his fingers and called out behind him. “Let’s do this thing, boys.” He gave a high-five to Randon in passing and then he was gone.
Five bikes took off to the left and three sped off to the right. Wolves howled in the distance, a pack of them, if her ears weren’t deceiving her.
Randon secured her bag on the back of the bike. Seconds later, he was seated and patting the leather behind him. Laying his heel to the kickstand, he said, “Let’s roll, baby.”
She’d just swung her leg over the seat when she noticed a man hunkered down behind a tall oak in the center of her yard. Wrapping her arms around Randon’s waist, she leaned forward and whispered at his ear, “We’ve got company at our three o’clock.”
“I see him.”
Before she could contemplate his next move, Randon sped to the other side of the yard. Gravel spun around his tires. The man backed away from the commotion. Reaching around the trunk of the tree, he held on for dear life, acting as if he were terrified.
Three large beasts shot by them so quickly it was hard to make out their forms, but Pageant understood what was happening. Their backup appeared front and center, barking and growling at the person they obviously viewed as a threat.
He looked like he couldn’t hold his own with a church mouse, let alone three werewolves.
“Call them off,” Pageant said, jumping off the back of the bike and rushing the tree.
A whistle resounded and the wolves backed away from the large oak. They kept their heads slightly bowed, but they never looked down. They were searching the woods, keeping watch over the area, a dark forest that was now a very dangerous zone given the fact the others had already left Pleasant.
“Who are you?” Pageant asked, approaching him with caution. At least six feet tall and every bit of two hundred and eighty pounds, the fellow looked familiar. “Wait a minute. I know you.”
He pulled his coat collar high and seemingly tried to disappear inside his coal-black outerwear. “I need to speak with you alone, Detective Keen.”
“That’s probably not going to happen,” Randon said, appearing beside her. “What do you need, friend?”
Gray eyes studied her with an intense focus. “I know what happened to all those people and I know why.”
r /> “Go on,” Randon said.
The wolves moved closer again. Pageant turned around and stared at the large gray one, willing him back and silently wishing he could understand her reasons. The Bold and Free brotherhood was a strong one and they looked after their own, but they couldn’t forget what they’d all learned in recent hours. Togetherness made them vulnerable. The more space they kept between them, the higher their chances for survival should the extortionist decide to strike.
As if they’d read her mind, they each backed away. Had they read her mind?
“Are you a cop?” he asked Randon.
“No, sir.”
“Then I’ll speak only to Detective Keen.” He trembled and his teeth chattered as if he were standing in the middle of an ice storm, yet the temperature was a comfortable seventy degrees. Not bad for evening weather in the middle of March.
“Sir, this is Randon Shane. He’s been following the extortionist for some time now and if anyone can help you, he can.”
“Can he?” The man laughed. “How can he—or anyone else for that matter—help in a case that is destined to stay unsolved?”
“I don’t follow you,” Pageant said.
“I was there. I watched it all.”
Pageant gasped. She recalled the terror in the man’s eyes the night she’d spotted him at the diner. She also recalled the events that transpired immediately afterward.
“What did you see, sir?”
“It was just like the sheriff said when he spoke to the victims’ families. The weapon of choice was undetermined.” He trembled more violently. “I saw the whole thing and never saw a gun or a knife. Nothin’ at all.”
