Billy looked up at the knock on the door. Terri stood there, her face pale.
“What is it?” He stood, grabbing his hat off the hook. Her face screamed trouble louder than her voice ever could.
“Bayou’s End. There’s been a robbery.”
“Shit. Anyone hurt?” Peter. Billy bolted for the door, and she fell back out of his way.
“Maurice said no. Said he’d caught the thief, though.”
He let out his breath. “Good.” He stopped. Should he go or send a deputy? What would Scott do?
Maurice and Marie ran one of the town’s businesses and they were pack.
Billy’s mate was there; maybe he’d been present during the robbery.
Scott would go himself.
“I’ll take it. Tell Frank to meet me there.” She nodded and went back to her desk.
He was out the door before she’d raised Frank on the radio.
»»•««
The entire way to Bayou’s End, Billy chewed on his cheek. He’d wanted to call Peter, check on him, but Maurice had said no one was hurt and he’d caught the criminal. Leave it to the old man, he was feisty as hell, and he’d been a force in his younger days. These days, he was one of the pack elders, a man to be respected.
Frank waited for Billy at the turnoff to the B & B. Billy went first, Frank followed as they drove up to the front porch. Billy didn’t need the trouble lights on or the siren, sure Marie would appreciate that courtesy, for her guests’ sake. If he knew her, she’d be plying them all with food to distract them.
They got out and went up the stairs. The front door stood open.
“Sheriff!” he called out as he rapped on the door frame, then looked inside.
Marie sat on one chair, Peter sat on another, and Maurice stood over them both, red as a beet. Billy inhaled and caught the scents of both wolves, Peter and Maurice. Fear with a hint of anger floated on the air filling the living area. Odd.
“Maurice. Marie. Peter.” Billy nodded. “What’s all this about?”
Marie blushed and stood. “We had money taken from our account, Billy.” She twisted her hands together, then shot a sad look at Peter. “Peter did it.”
Billy’s heart thumped, and all the spit in his mouth dried up. “Peter?”
Peter’s bottom lip and chin quivered, as if he could barely hold back his tears. He glanced at Billy, then turned away, shame painted on his face.
Maurice came forward. “Here’s the evidence. Found it in his room.” There was a dislike so palpable in the old man’s voice, Billy could have cut it with the blade of his pocket knife.
“How about we go over this from the beginning?” Billy got out his notebook and pen, pulled up a chair, and sat. If Peter wasn’t going to look at him, he’d have to move on. He was there to investigate a robbery, not make eyes at his mate.
Marie sighed. “Last night I was going over the accounts. Making sure the deposits had cleared, checking the balance, that sort of thing. I noticed a discrepancy. About three hundred dollars was missing.” She glanced at Maurice, who had now folded his arms and stood as if daring anyone to say something. “At first, I thought I’d made a mistake, so I left it. But this morning, I took a look again, and I was right.” She sighed. “The money was gone. There had been a withdrawal the day before that I couldn’t account for.” She glanced at Peter. “The only other person who has our bank account information is Peter, because of the work he’s been doing for us on the website. He said he needed it for the reservation system.”
“And I found the money in his room,” Maurice added, as if that proved anything. He gave the money to Frank, standing next to him. Frank took it and put it in a plastic bag. “Thanks, Maurice.”
Billy scratched his head. “You searched his room?”
“It’s our room. I gotta right, especially if I think something’s hinky.” Maurice’s tone hadn’t improved. Billy caught his scent, reeking of fear and anger, but mostly fear. What did he have to be afraid of? Peter, Billy could understand. Fear poured off his mate like water over a dam.
Billy fought the urge to take his lover in his arms and comfort him. There had to be an explanation for this.
“Peter, did you give Maurice permission to look in your room?” He had to follow procedure, whether he liked it or not.
“No. I had no idea what was going on when I came downstairs.” He shook his head, his focus on the floor.
“Peter.” Billy’s voice commanded the younger man to look up and face him. Peter raised his head, took a breath, then met Billy’s gaze. “Did you take that money?”
“No.” Peter’s blue eyes went liquid, and it tore at Billy’s heart.
“You’re not going to believe that bull, are you, Billy?” Maurice asked. “You’re the law, no matter what you might feel for him. He fooled us, and he duped you too.”
“Don’t tell me my job, Maurice,” Billy snapped. “Frank, take their statements, fill out the forms. You’ve got the money, right?” Frank nodded. “Then when you’re finished here, read Mr. Graham his rights, then cuff him and bring him in to the station for questioning. Make sure it’s by the book.” Peter gasped, and Billy wanted to throw up, but Maurice was right, goddamn him. It was Billy’s job, and he had to do it.
Maurice smiled, then sobered. “Thanks, son. I’ll sleep better tonight with him gone.” As if Peter would kill them in their sleep. Billy wanted to shout at the old man, but he kept control.
“You don’t believe this, do you?” Peter whispered, his hands rubbing on his jeans. When Billy didn’t answer, Peter rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Billy?” his voice cracked.
“Frank, do what I said. I’ll meet you at the station.” Billy couldn’t say another word without losing his slim control. Every fiber in his body knew his mate didn’t do this, but to state that there, in public, would prejudice the investigation.
And there would be an investigation. This didn’t smell right. Not one fucking bit.
Peter slumped, defeated, in the chair. Billy couldn’t bear to see the tears spilling over his cheeks, so he turned and walked out, desperate for fresh air and some relief from all the scents filling the room.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he got into his cruiser and then slammed the door. “Fuck!” He started it up before he backed out, then headed to the road.
He’d just abandoned his mate, refused to defend him, and had him arrested for theft. He needed help with this, and Scott was out of town. There was only one other person Billy knew to call, and he dreaded doing it.
But if his lover and mate was going to get out of this, Billy needed to make that call.
»»•««
Peter fought the urge to sob, but he couldn’t stop his tears, damn it. Marie looked as if she were going to burst into tears herself. He didn’t blame her. She’d been so good to him, and she had to be feeling betrayed.
“Marie, I didn’t do it. I swear. I don’t know where that money came from. Please.” Peter tried again to make sense of what was happening, but nothing came to him.
Marie glanced at Maurice, who was giving his statement to Frank. She squatted next to Peter’s chair and took his hand. “Oh, Peter. I’m so confused. I would have sworn you’d never do anything like this—never. But the money is missing, and we did find it in your room.” She patted his hand, then stood.
Frank finished with Maurice. “Peter, do I need to restrain you until I finish?” His voice was calm, no resentment, no anger.
Peter could smell his scent. He belonged to the pack. Of course, Billy would bring a pack member along with him to deal with this matter. Peter shook his head. “I’m good here. Where would I go?”
Frank looked toward the front door. “The swamp.”
Peter shivered. “I’d be lost in minutes.” He stared into Frank’s eyes. “And I know you’d all hunt me down.” He dropped his gaze back to the floor between his legs.
Frank nodded. “Yep.” Then he called Marie over and took her statement. The whole time, Peter’s mind whirred, like one of those windmill ducks whose wings spin in a blur every time the breeze blew. Moving but not going anywhere, just the same circle.
He knew he didn’t take the money. Sure, Maurice had found it in his room, but anyone could have put it there. Peter glanced at Maurice, who had his arm around Marie’s waist, supporting her as she spoke to Frank.
But Peter had stolen money before. Just once. And Billy knew it. Billy had to be thinking Peter had bullshitted him and stolen the money from Bayou’s End also. Billy probably thought Peter had gotten beaten up over Darcy’s money. Fuck. Peter was so screwed.
His mate was probably trying to figure out a way to…divorce him? What did wolves do when they didn’t want to be with their mate anymore? In his pack, no one ever got divorced, not that he remembered. They took “in sickness and in health” pretty seriously.
And Billy would have to tell Peter had stolen before, wouldn’t he? Billy was a “by the book” cop, and he’d be betraying that code of honor Peter found so sexy and attractive.
Peter wished Ted were there. Ted would listen to him; he’d believe him.
Maybe.
But Peter remembered Ted was an ex-cop.
Maybe not.
Peter was all alone in this, and if he listened to his gut, it told him he was going to jail.
Frank came over. “Peter. Mr. Graham. I need you to stand and put your arms behind your back, back of your hands together, please.”
Peter stood and obeyed.
“Do you have anything I need to know about? Knives, weapons, needles?”
“No.”
Frank cuffed him and read him his rights. The words sounded as if they were in a tunnel, echoing in his mind but not really understood. The cool metal wrapping his wrists sent shivers down Peter’s spine, and the sound of them rasping closed nearly made his knees give out. He stiffened his back and legs and stood quietly as Frank patted him down.
“Let’s go.” Frank took him by the arm and led him to his patrol car. He opened the back door. “Sit down, watch your head.”
Peter curled up onto the back seat, pulling his feet out of the way of the door. His shoulders hurt from the position of his arms, and his eyes burned with the tears he swore he wouldn’t cry.
Marie and Maurice stood on the front porch. Marie had a wad of tissues pressed to her face. Maurice looked smug. Peter’s heart ached. He’d thought the couple had really liked him, thought he’d found a place to be accepted and call home.
Peter leaned forward and rested his head on the back of the seat as the car pulled away. He was going to jail. All the evidence was against him. But it was only three hundred bucks. How much time would he get for that?
Any time behind bars was too much. Peter had heard what happened to young, good-looking men in prison. His ass would be up for grabs, unless he could fight to protect himself, and the only way to do that would be as a wolf.
No way could he let anyone know what he was inside.
A science lab would be far worse than any prison, Peter knew that. It was the constant fear all weres lived with—discovery by the authorities and what the scientists would do…the experiments.
Peter shivered as hope drained from him like the sweat pouring off his back.
“You know, Billy was really happy. Because of you.” Frank’s voice brought Peter back to reality.
“What?” Peter didn’t think Frank knew about him and Billy.
“I smelled you the first time I saw you, just didn’t let on.” He sniffed. “And with the way Billy was all over me for handling you, well, only one thing makes a wolf that crazy.” He chuckled. “His mate. I backed off damn quick.”
Peter sighed. “Guess that’s over now. Billy doesn’t believe me. No one does.”
Frank didn’t say anything. What was there to say?
They pulled into the station, and Frank parked the car around the back. He got Peter out and walked him to a back entrance, swiped a card; the door buzzed, and he opened it. They stepped into a narrow hall barely wide enough to let them both walk side by side.
Frank stopped at a door, opened it, and Peter entered the station’s main room, the one he’d been in before. Frank took him to a desk with a chair next to it. He turned Peter around and took the handcuffs off. “Don’t try to escape.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sit down. I’m going to take your fingerprints.” Peter sat. Frank sat in the other chair, pulled out a card, an ink pad, and a pen. He’d been very kind, really, probably more than with other criminals.
I’m a criminal.
Peter sat numbly, all thought gone from his mind, as Frank fingerprinted him. Peter barely registered Frank’s hands on his, guiding his fingers as they touched the ink and then rolled across the card.
“Have to run these through and see if you turn up.” Frank glanced at him. “Will you?”
Peter shook his head.
Frank’s mouth twisted in a frown. He tapped into the computer. Waited. Peter stared at the floor, his hands now clasped together in his lap.
“Nothing.” He did some more typing and then printed something off.
Peter looked around the room. The receptionist stole glances at him; the deep furrows in her forehead and around her mouth said she was worried. For Billy, no doubt, not for him. They didn’t know him at all. But they knew and loved Billy. He was pack and their friend, and Peter was just someone who strayed where he didn’t belong.
And Peter knew the pack would form ranks around Billy to protect him from Peter.
The door to the office was closed. Billy was behind that door. Peter could smell his mate, but it was faint, as if he’d been there and was long gone.
He strained his hearing, catching voices. Raised voices. From the office. Billy was either on the phone or with someone. Peter inhaled again and struggled to differentiate all the scents he took in. The perfume had to be the woman.
Frank. Billy. And someone else. It was strong, male, and…powerful.
Peter’s heart hammered in his chest as fear rose in his throat like vomit. The wolf he smelled was old, powerful, an alpha. A wolf to be afraid of, and Peter was, if the rapid beating of his heart was the measure.
He stared at the door, dreading its opening. Dreading seeing the disappointment and betrayal on Billy’s face and dreading whoever this was with Billy.
Peter didn’t know much, but he knew this wolf held his fate in his hands.