Reach for the Sky (Wolffe Peak Book 1) Read online

  A sexy grin tugged on his scarred mouth, and, for a brief moment, Sky was stunned. The man was intimidating and powerful, and the sight of him grinning robbed her of breath. “Trust me, sweetheart. You’ll know when I’m manhandling you. Let’s go. I don’t have all night.”

  She squeaked and fidgeted in his grip. “I—I don’t need a ride, really. I—”

  Wyatt jerked her against him with a grunt. A sharp squeal of protestation fell from Sky’s lips the moment he lifted her in the air and deposited her on the back of the bike. “Stop complaining. Like I’d let you walk home alone, ass bare to the rest of the world. What kind of a bastard do you think I am?”

  Before she could answer, he straddled the bike before her. The motion knocked her forward until her naked thighs cradled his. Heat rushed to her face and she wriggled backward, attempting to place a little distance between them. But then he fired up the bike, the engine roared to life, and they took off.

  Chapter 4

  He was trapped in his own personal hell.

  Yup, that was the only explanation. Whatever spiritual bodies reigned on high were having the time of their lives yanking his puppet strings around. If Sky squirmed one more time, she couldn’t hold him responsible for his actions. Because damn if he couldn’t feel the heat of her thighs through his jeans. He’d only met the girl, but there was no denying his desire to pin her against a wall and have his way.

  It didn’t help that she still wore his T-shirt. Thank the Lord for the wind. If he had to smell his scent on her…his gut tightened. Worse, they hadn’t been able to find any of her clothes or the bag she’d dropped mid-shift. Sky had assured him that she’d kicked her pants aside into the middle of the street. Her bra and panties might have been destroyed by the sudden shift, but she remained adamant that her other clothing had survived.

  So, where were they?

  Their tumble in the leaves hadn’t lasted longer than ten minutes, and the streets were deserted, middle of the night as it was. There was a slight chance that someone had picked them up, but Wyatt didn’t believe that. People were innately ignorant to anything that didn’t involve themselves. If they saw a pair of jeans discarded in the middle of the street, they’d quirk a brow, mutter something about kids these days, and move on with a quick shake of their heads. Of course, there was one other viable option—one that disturbed him on a whole new level. Whoever had been following her had taken them. And wasn’t that creepy as all fuck?

  Sky’s light tap on his shoulder drew his thoughts back to the present. He stole a quick glance backward to find her staring at the house at the end of the road.

  “There.” She mouthed the word, her finger pointed toward it.

  With a nod, Wyatt geared down and came to a stop next to the curb. A quick nudge and the kickstand slipped down. Only then did he drop his hands to his thighs and stare up at the small, split-story ranch house. “This your place?”

  She hopped off the bike and tugged down his shirt before nodding. “Home, sweet home.”

  Sweet was right. All pink trim and frilly yellow curtains fluttering in the windows, complete with a white picket fence that surrounded a stone bed full of lilies. Pink trim. Yellow curtains. Flowers. He slid her a sideways glance. Pink and yellow didn’t seem her thang. Now, black…black was her color. His T-shirt assured him of that. Not to mention that she knew how to fight; his jaw still ached from that knuckle sandwich she’d fed him earlier. She seemed more badass than Rambo—this house did not fit the girl.

  ’Course, he could be wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time. Shrugging, he started for the front door. Who was he to judge? For all he knew, this was her mother’s house or something. That, or her decorator needed to be fired. ’Cuz, damn, it was like Barbie threw up all over this place.

  Wyatt took two steps at a time as he climbed the stairs to the front door.

  “What are you doing?” A thread of panic wove through her voice a second before her thin fingers grazed his arm.

  Wyatt cocked his head and stared down at her. “Seeing you inside?” Sure, he was a tattooed Neanderthal who rode a motorcycle and ran a werewolf pack, but his momma didn’t raise no fool. Everything about this little wolf screamed frightened. He wasn’t leaving until he checked every last cranny in her house.

  “I’m fine!” She forced a nervous laugh. “I’m sure I was imagining things.”

  Wyatt snorted. Pushing him away only made his decision that much clearer. Ms. Callahan was hiding something, and no amount of excuses would convince him otherwise.

  “I’m going inside,” he informed her. “You can either tag along or wait out here.”

  Rage flushed her cheeks, and boy howdy, if he didn’t enjoy the sight of her riled up.

  “No manners,” she hissed, eyes pinched at the corners.

  “None whatsoever. So, we doing this?”

  Her head tilted back and she stared up at him with resignation in her eyes. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Now you’re clueing in, darling.” Because, no, she didn’t. Alpha meant doing what he wanted when he wanted. And what he wanted was to scope out the woman’s place and find out what she was hiding. Two birds, one stone.

  A growl scraped past her throat as she shoved past him and punched a number into her keyless entry. Wyatt couldn’t have helped the smile that crooked his mouth even if he’d wanted to. Something about that sound amused him—like a little pup trying to make her way in the big bad world. Adorable.

  He froze on her stoop and blinked. Adorable? No. There was nothing adorable about defiance. His mood took a foul turn. “Hurry up.”

  Another growl. This time, it ruffled his hackles. But he held his tongue. Now wasn’t the time for a lesson in proper behaviour or protocol.

  The lock clicked and Sky popped open the door.

  Wyatt’s lungs deflated and before either of them could step a foot within the house, he grasped her around the waist and swung her off the porch, landing in the plush grass below with her back against her house.

  “What the—”

  He clapped a hand over her mouth and then leaned toward her. “Shh. Don’t you smell that?”

  She rolled her eyes before mumbling, “All I smell is you.”

  Wyatt’s gaze flicked to hers, his stomach warming with the thought of her taking in his scent. Fending off a shiver, he leaned forward until his lips brushed the shell of her chilled ear. His jaw ached with the desire to nibble on her lobe. “I’m going to remove my hand. Don’t make a sound.” He glanced at her once to ensure she understood. Glassy eyes met his, bright with fear. Great.

  His fingers trailed over her lips as he drew his hand away.

  She immediately scented the air. “Is that…?”

  He silenced her with a sharp breath, then lifted his nose to the air. Blood. But more than that, the pungent stench of death slapped him in the face. Wyatt glanced down at the terrified woman pressed against his chest, trembling beyond control as she recognized the unpleasant aroma.

  Someone had some ’splaining to do.

  ***

  Sky ripped her gaze from Wyatt’s and stared up at the small house that had once felt like home. Now, it was nothing. Her stalker had breached her personal sanctuary and marked it as his, like he had everything else in her life. A hot rush of tears congealed in her throat, but she swallowed them, determined to remain strong.

  Wyatt set her aside and hopped back up onto the porch. “Stay here, all right? I’m going to have a look.”

  A beaten whimper fell past her lips. Stay out here? In the dark? Alone? But he vanished into the shadows of the house before she could respond.

  Sky’s breath caught the moment he disappeared. The night pressed in on her until she thought she might scream. She jumped at the sound of her neighbor’s rickety gate slamming shut, her hand rising to cup her throat. “Wyatt?”

  A quiet sound came next, a slight scratch, like nails running down glass. Sky squeezed her eyes shut and backed into the side of the house, her breath
lodged in her throat. What if he was out there, watching? Fear chased up her spine and forced her low into the garden. Knees tucked into her chest, she clapped her hands over her ears, if only to silence her thoughts.

  She shook her head and buried her face against her legs, the sweet scent of lilies mocking her. She couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t handle the letters and phone calls. More than once, she’d changed her phone number—the house landline and her cell. Now, Shane checked and logged her messages to save her the anguish. He’d been her one steady rock in all this, and she was beyond grateful to him.

  The fevered tears she’d been fighting slipped down her cheeks. She’d thought herself stronger than this. Her emergency bag sat next to her fridge, packed with everything she could think of, ready for a quick escape. All she had to do was grab it and run.

  With a hiccup, Sky lifted her chin to find the doorway wide open. The house was dark-as-night, but she didn’t need any light; the faint glow from the street lights would suffice. As for the alpha, she couldn’t hear him at all. It was worth the risk.

  Sky sucked in a tremulous breath and crept out of the lily garden on her hands and knees. One quick dash up the porch steps, snatch the bag, and then she’d be gone. Screw the alpha. It almost seemed too easy.

  Her feet and hands hit the stoop and she bolted into the entryway. Her pack sat exactly where she’d left it, between the pantry and the fridge. Relief bloomed in her chest the moment her fingers latched onto the strap. One sharp tug and the bag came free.

  Sky whirled on her heel and froze at the sight of a shadow hunkering in her doorway. She sucked in a deep breath and released a bloodcurdling scream.

  Chapter 5

  Wyatt’s heart burst from his chest at the sound of Sky’s chilling shriek.

  He bolted out of her bedroom and rushed down the stairs, feet clomping on each step. “Sky!”

  Midway down, he heard a resounding thump, and his heart suffered another palpitation. After the scene he’d stumbled across in her bedroom, he feared what awaited him on the main floor. Gripping the stairwell, he leapt over the banister and landed in the corridor, then rushed through the living room and into the kitchen to find Sky huddled in a dark corner.

  “Skylar?”

  Wyatt slowed to a walk and inched toward her. The woman hardly acknowledged his presence, her gaze fixed on the wide-open doorway. That was when he scented it—the light undertone of male werewolf. He’d caught a whiff of it in her bedroom as well, hidden beneath the cloying stench of blood and death.

  It seemed his first instincts had been correct. Sky was the next target.

  And damn if his fingers didn’t sprout claws at the thought.

  The wolf in him demanded that he take chase and rip the sick bastard limb from limb. His lip curled with the thought. If there was one thing he couldn’t abide by, it was someone preying on the weak. Not that Sky was weak. She’d proven the opposite when she’d nearly knocked his head clear off, but he couldn’t abandon her to go hunting. The acrid stench of her fear burned a hole in his nose; he couldn’t leave her in such a state. Not to mention that she would be vulnerable if the asshat made another attempt. The thought of staying, though, went against every bone in his body.

  Hands clenched, he paced the length of the room, now and then shooting a furtive glance down at the frozen woman. The killer couldn’t be picking women at random—they had to know their attacker. “Who is he, Sky?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Frustration coiled within him. He wanted this over tonight. Delaying self-gratification wasn’t his thing, and the sooner he could slap a body bag around the freak, the better. “You have to know something,” he growled as he stalked another lap around the kitchen. “You can’t expect me to believe—”

  Lurching to her feet, she stood flush against him, her head reaching his chin. “Believe what? That I would lie? The man has only made the past year of my life absolutely miserable. But, no, apparently that’s something I would keep hidden!”

  Wyatt arched a brow. The past year? There was more happening here, more than she was telling. “Well, you weren’t being too forthcoming in the park, so I could only assume—”

  She threw up her hands and released a frustrated grunt as she turned to stare out the kitchen window. “Excuse me for trying to protect myself.”

  “Protect yourself? From what? Me?”

  “For starters.”

  Ouch.

  She sucked in a weak breath and then a steadier one. Before his eyes, she gathered herself, and he watched as her spine and shoulders straightened. Really, she was a marvel. He didn’t know many women with such backbone, and though he’d never admit it aloud, he admired her right now.

  “Skylar, tell me what’s going on.”

  A brittle laugh scraped past her lips. “Really? Haven’t you figured it out already?”

  The pieces were slowly falling into place, but he needed the jigsaw finished. “Listen, three women are dead. Three women who bear a striking resemblance to you.”

  “W—What?” She whirled around, her mouth parted as the blood rushed from her face. Ah hell, he’d done it now. Her eyes welled, tears shimmering in those brilliant blue depths. For a moment, he thought she’d lose it, but the woman astounded him once more by pulling herself together at the last moment. “Three? And they look like me?”

  Wyatt stiffened. Skylar needed someone here with her, but he needed answers.

  “I—I’m sorry,” she stammered as she sucked in another cleansing breath. “I’m normally stronger than this.”

  And he believed it. She’d proven that in spades tonight. With a groan, Wyatt realized he’d pushed her past her breaking point. The woman needed protection, not further harassment. Stuffing his discomfort down deep, he strode across the kitchen and looped his arm around her shoulders. At the sound of a soft hiccup, he drew her into his chest and let her cry it out. Whatever was happening here, it went beyond murder—Wyatt felt it in his bones.

  Once her tears were spent, she pushed away from him and wiped the evidence from her cheeks with the heels of her hands. “Did you find where that smell is coming from?”

  Ah, shit. After her meltdown, the last thing he wanted was to discuss the scene he’d found upstairs. “I did.”

  She turned shimmering eyes up to him, and his stomach twisted. “And?”

  “And don’t worry about it.”

  Sky blinked. “Don’t worry about it?”

  Regardless of the steel hardening her backbone, he couldn’t tell her what he’d found. It would break her, and he wouldn’t be the one responsible for that. He might be a bastard, but he wasn’t a prick. Wyatt ignored her question and instead fished his cell out of his jeans pocket. The most important thing was getting Skylar somewhere safe. And that meant calling in a few of his pack as a guard detail. Then he needed to phone the sheriff, because if he wasn’t mistaken, Skylar’s bedroom was the murder scene of the third victim.

  “I see you have a bag already?”

  Glazed eyes dropped down to the pack at her feet. “I came in here to get it, and when I turned around, he was standing in the doorway.”

  “You sure it was him?”

  Sky shivered against him, a fine tremor that ran from his chest down to his hip. “Yes. I know his scent. I would know it anywhere.”

  “But you don’t know who he is?”

  She shook her head, her blonde hair brushing against his skin.

  “All right—well, it’s something. An identifiable feature. Perhaps there’s something to his aroma that we can use to track him.”

  Unfortunately, thanks to the wind, the man’s scent wouldn’t lead them beyond the stoop. They’d have to rely on good old-fashioned clues to find the bastard.

  “There’s someone I think you should speak with,” he finally told her.

  She tipped her head back, her all-too innocent eyes sucker punching him. “Who?”

  “Sheriff Shane Colton.”

  She blinked, t
hen wiped the few stray tears from her cheeks. “How do you know Shane?”

  Wyatt frowned. “How do you know Shane?”

  “He’s been handling my case for the past year. We’ve become friends.” Sky gave a watery chuckle.

  Her case? What the hell had this woman gotten herself into?

  She reached for her cordless phone. After a few long seconds, she shook her head, picked up the handheld, and dialed. Seemed Sheriff Shane was the first on her speed dial. Wyatt swallowed that particular bit of poison with a grimace. Why should he care what the sheriff meant to her?

  “Oh, my God, Skylar! Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for the past hour.” Shane’s voice came clear through the phone. Wyatt made no attempt to give her any privacy.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Shane…he was here. I—I was in the kitchen, and—”

  “I’m already on my way. You were supposed to wait for the patrol car at the airport! They called and told me they couldn’t find you.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I saw a cab and thought it’d be all right.”

  Wyatt’s mouth crooked at the sound of Shane cursing.

  “Don’t move, all right? I won’t be long. There’s something we need to discuss.”

  He had to give it to her, she held herself together. Shoulders square, she lifted her head and murmured an agreement into the phone.

  “Lock the doors until I get there, all right? Don’t ask why. Just do it.”

  “It’s all right,” Sky murmured. “I’m not alone.”

  “What do you mean you’re not alone? Who’s there with you?”

  “His name is Wyatt. He’s—”

  “I know who he is. All right. If he’s there with you, you’re safe. Be patient. I’ll be there soon. Can I bring you anything?”

  She sniffled. “Just you.”

  Shane’s chuckle rankled Wyatt. There was no reason for him to feel jealous. It was clear that she and the sheriff had a relationship, and hell, he’d only met her tonight. But that didn’t stop the green-eyed monster from pointing and laughing at him.