The Blackstone Dragon Heir: Blackstone Mountain Book 1 Page 7

  Catherine supposed it wouldn't be too bad. The sick grandmother story was a good cover, and it allowed her to give a day's notice to Tim and earn another night of tips. After tonight, she'd pack her bags and never look back, although she hated lying to her boss, especially since he'd been so good to her.

  But she had no choice. Anything she touched, anyone she cared about would be destroyed by the Chesnovak Brotherhood. They would stop at nothing to keep her quiet.

  Throughout her shift, her thoughts kept straying to Matthew. She hadn’t forgotten the look on his face before she shut the door. Like … what? Heartbroken? She bit out a laugh. The man hardly knew her. He'd forget about her, move on, and have another gorgeous woman on his arm going to some fabulous gala next week. The thought of Matthew with another woman sent her stomach clenching, but she pushed that feeling away. This was about survival. She had to put him and Blackstone behind her.

  She went home exhausted, and all she wanted to do was sleep. She packed her meager belongings into a bag before collapsing in bed. She dreamed of lions chasing after her in the savannah. And of Rissa. Poor Rissa, lying on the floor of the apartment, her blood staining the carpet they had salvaged from a dumpster just the week before.

  It was a good thing she had the presence of mind to set her alarm after work. She woke up, got showered and dressed, then picked up her bag and trudged out of the apartment and down the stairs. The walk to the bus station would be about an hour, and she wanted to give herself extra time just in case.

  When she opened the door, she started as she bumped into a tall, imposing figure. Looking forward, she first saw a brown uniform shirt with a silver star pinned to the chest. She moved her gaze up and a stern face under a wide-brim hat was looking down at her.

  “Catherine Archer?”

  “Yes?”

  "I'm Police Chief Meacham," he said, his voice gravelly and rough. The man was older, his face weather-beaten, but his green eyes were sharp as an eagle's.

  “What can I do for you, Chief?” she asked.

  Piercing green eyes narrowed at her. “Are you leaving town?”

  Catherine mustered every bit of courage she had. “Yeah. Uhm … I have to take care of my sick grandmother back north,” she said. “If you excuse me …”

  Meacham grabbed her arm, gently but with a firm grip. “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave yet, Ms. Archer.”

  “Chief,” she began. “What’s this about?”

  “Ms. Archer, do you know a Jack Cunningham?”

  “Who?” she asked in a puzzled voice. She’d never even heard of that name.

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I’ll give you another chance.”

  "Chief Meacham, can we skip the twenty questions please? I've got a long walk to the bus station. Now tell me what this is about."

  “You’re a person of interest in a case, and you’ll have to come down to the station with me.”

  Catherine let out a frustrated sigh. "What for? What case? Tell me, and I'll do my best to help you, but I can't miss my bus."

  “It’s murder case, Ms. Archer,” he said in a grim voice. “So, if you’d like to cooperate, I suggest you get in,” he gestured to his police car, “and we can talk at the station.”

  “And if I don’t?” she challenged.

  “Then I’ll have to upgrade your status to possible suspect and detain you.”

  She swallowed a gulp. “Fine.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “Come this way please.”

  Catherine followed Chief Meacham to his car. After she got in, she sat with her back ramrod straight. This was a mistake. She didn’t know a Jack Cunningham. It must have been a mix-up. Shit. She was definitely going to miss her bus unless she got a ride to the station. Maybe when he realized he had the wrong person, Meacham could have someone take her there.

  The drive to the police station seemed agonizingly slow, though, in reality, it must have only taken fifteen minutes. The Blackstone P.D. headquarters was located in the middle of town. Meacham cut the engine, opened her door, then helped her out. He led her inside, past the front desk, and toward the back. As they walked through the bullpen, she saw the back of a familiar figure seated in front of one of the desks. It was hard not to notice Luke's imposing size, after all. But what was he doing here?

  Meacham led her through a door. “Let’s go into one of our interview rooms. It’ll be more comfortable.”

  “Right,” she huffed. This was no interview room. This was an interrogation room. But she was still convinced there was a mix-up, so she sat on the chair opposite of Meacham.

  “So,” the Police Chief began, “you said you didn’t know Jack Cunningham.”

  “Correct,” she replied.

  Meacham reached for the tablet PC on the table and turned it on. He laid it on the table, turned it and pushed it toward her. “This is Jack Cunningham.”

  Catherine let out an involuntary gasp. The hyena shifter. But this wasn’t an ordinary photo. Cunningham was lying on a carpeted floor, his eyes closed, and a bullet between his eyes. “Now do you recognize him, Ms. Archer?”

  “I … I didn’t know his name.”

  “Did you know him by any other name?”

  She shook her head. “No. I didn’t know him.”

  “Well, that’s mighty strange, Ms. Archer.” Meacham took the tablet back and then swiped a finger across it. He turned the screen back to her. “Because he seems to know you.”

  A cold fear gripped her, spreading ice in her veins. There were pictures of her tacked onto a wall. She recognized all these photos. They were taken from Rissa's scrapbook and their apartment. One was of her and Rissa, their heads bent together and their smiles bright. They had woken up extra early to hike up to the Hollywood sign to catch the sunrise. She remembered that photo had been displayed proudly on the wall of their living room.

  “How … I don’t …” The Brotherhood. Now there was no doubt who had sent Cunningham.

  "You didn't know he was looking for you?" Meacham asked.

  “No … I …” She took a deep breath. “He came into The Den—that’s where I work—and he ordered a drink. When I left work, he was there outside, waiting for me. But he left.”

  “I know,” Meacham said. “Four witnesses put you and Cunningham outside the bar sometime after one a.m. Along with Luke Lennox.”

  Luke! Was that why he was here? “Luke scared him away,” she stated. “Cunningham was harassing me.”

  “According to the witnesses, Luke threatened his life.”

  “I …” Oh no. This was her fault. Luke was going to get in trouble. She straightened her shoulders. "Cunningham was rude! I'm sure Luke wasn't literal in his threats."

  “Tell me, Ms. Archer,” Meacham said in a cool voice that sent another chill through her. “Where were you between one and five a.m. today?”

  “Asleep, in my bed,” she said. “Like I usually am.”

  “Do you have anyone who can corroborate your story? Friend? Boyfriend? Lover?”

  She swallowed a gulp. “No.”

  “Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to keep you here for a while longer, Ms. Archer.”

  “Should I be calling a lawyer?”

  Chapter Nine

  The cavern was dark and damp, but the air inside was filled with electricity and anticipation. Matthew took one deep breath and then spewed out a stream of fire at the rocks. Large chunks came tumbling down as the dragon fire loosened the stones.

  A long whistle rang through the cave. “All right, Matthew, you’re done!” Ben shouted. “And let’s get those rocks processed!”

  As the workers began to scramble about, loading the chunks of blackstone into carts, Matthew let out a last puff of smoke before he began to shift back into his human form. He shrank down, the scales retracting back into his skin and his claws retreating into his hands. Soon, he stood on the cold floor of the cavern, fully naked.

  Ben tossed him a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. “Here ya go, cuz,” he sa
id. “Everything okay?”

  Matthew began to get dressed, slipping the jeans on. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Nothing.” Ben paused. “Well, you know you don’t have to do this. Jason usually does a couple of shifts a week so you can concentrate on running Lennox.”

  It was an open secret (at least in the town) of how blackstone was mined. Blackstone was the hardest material on earth and could only be found in these mountains, making it sought-after by many industries. Unfortunately, it was also encased in the second hardest material in the world, nitride londaleite. There was only one thing that could melt it without harming the blackstone: dragon fire.

  Matthew and Jason's family had been mining it for generations, ever since their great-great-great-great grandfather Lucas Lennox won the mountains in a card game. It made the Lennoxes one of the richest shifter families in the world, at par with the original robber barons of the industrial age.

  "I know," Matthew said. "But I thought Jason could use a break." Dragon fire wasn't inexhaustible, and they needed a few days in between to replenish. But the truth was Matthew needed this.

  He was battling a maelstrom inside himself. He could at least give his dragon some release. It was furious at him and fought him at every turn. It had never been like this. Shifters and their animals weren't separate beings but more like two sides of a coin. He lived in harmony with his dragon. Except right now it was mad at him, as if blaming him for his mate's rejection.

  And he didn’t even know why she rejected him.

  Catherine had been willing and warm that morning he left. He gave a silent curse. If only he didn’t have so many responsibilities. If only he hadn’t left. But what had changed her mind? Unsure of what to do, he gave her some space. Though it took every ounce of strength not to go to her, he left her alone.

  “Matt! Ben!”

  Matthew turned in the direction of the voice. “What is it, Nate?”

  A severe expression marred their friend's face, a rarity for the normally happy-go-lucky wolf shifter. "It's Luke. I just got a call from the police station. He's in trouble."

  “Luke?” Ben asked. “In trouble with the police?”

  Matthew snorted. That was definitely not like Luke. His adopted brother never attracted trouble and always did his best to steer clear of it. “There’s probably some mix-up.”

  “Right? That’s what I’m thinking,” Nate said with a shake of his head. “We should go and check out what’s wrong.”

  “I’ll keep things going here,” Ben said, the ever reliable friend and employee. “You go and sort it out. And let me know what happens.”

  “Will do,” Matthew said as he finished dressing. “C’mon Nate.”

  The drive to the police station took nearly an hour. The roads going down to Blackstone from the mines were slick and slippery this time of year. Matthew had this strange feeling crawling down the back of his neck, but he didn’t know why. It was a good thing Nate, his expression cool as a cucumber, was driving them. Though Nate hardly had a serious bone in his body, he was always calm under pressure.

  As soon as they arrived at the station, activity seemed to slow down and all eyes went to them. When he was growing up, the police station was a small, one-story building staffed by six officers. Blackstone P.D. wasn't as busy as those big city police departments, but with the growth of the town and more people coming in, there was enough action that they needed to expand the police force over the years. And, of course, when they needed funds to expand the headquarters and hire additional police officers, the Lennox family was more than willing to provide what they needed.

  “Excuse me,” Matthew said to the large, burly man dressed in blue at the front desk. “My brother called me and said he was being detained?”

  The man straightened his shoulders. "Mr. Lennox," he greeted. "One of our detectives just finished interviewing your brother. You can head right in." He nodded to the door on the left.

  Matthew thanked the officer and turned toward the direction he had nodded to. As he and Nate entered the bullpen, it wasn't hard to spot his brother.

  “What’s going on?” Matthew asked as they approached Luke. He was sitting in front of an empty desk, his shoulders hunched over.

  Luke looked up at him, his expression grave. "It's not me you should be worried about," he said. "It's your mate."

  “Catherine?” That feeling crawling down the back of his neck was now going on full alert. “What happened?” The other day, when he couldn’t get away from the office and didn’t have a way of contacting Catherine, he had asked Luke to go to The Den and make sure she was okay. He trusted Luke, after all, not just to make sure Catherine would get home safely but to keep silent as he tried to sort things out.

  "A detective picked me up this morning, asked me to come for a ‘friendly chat.'" Luke snorted. "There was this guy sniffing around Catherine that night you asked me to look out for her. Now he's dead, and they got witnesses who saw me and her talking to him."

  "Guy?" Anger began to bubble in him. "What guy? You didn't tell me about a guy."

  “Can it, Matt,” Nate said, looking around them. “You’re making everyone uneasy.”

  Several pairs of eyes—most likely the shifters of Blackstone’s finest—were on them. All the other shifters in the room could sense the coldness in the air as Matthew’s dragon made its presence known.

  "You didn't give me a chance," Luke shot back. "You were so hell-bent on getting the fuck outta there when she shut the door in your face that you didn't hear me calling you."

  That was true. The moment Catherine rejected him, he wanted to get out of there. Leave her space and forget her. His fists clenched at his sides. “So, explain again. From the beginning.”

  "Like I said, this guy was bothering Catherine and I got rid of him. Apparently, he turned up dead this morning in his room at Shady Mountain Motel. Police somehow traced a connection to Catherine and found witnesses who saw me and her at The Den."

  “They think you killed this guy?” Nate asked.

  "Yeah. They asked me where I was between one and five this morning, and I told him where I always was. You know we got security tapes around the castle. I even ran into a couple of the rangers."

  Though Luke didn’t live at Blackstone Castle anymore, he still patrolled the area around it at night in his lion form. It was a habit he had picked up when they were growing up, when nightmares would prevent him from sleeping. Hank had encouraged it, and though Luke never said anything, Matthew suspected it was one way he coped with the trauma from his past.

  "So," Luke continued, "Meacham came to talk to me. Said I wasn't a suspect, but asked me to stay for a bit. It's my fucking day off, but he's the police chief, so I couldn't say no. And I'm glad I did because I saw him bring her in here. Took her down to the interview rooms."

  “Fuck.” What the hell was going on here? Who was that man and what was his connection to Catherine?

  “Matt.” Nate nodded toward the hallway on the right. Meacham strode out, heading toward his office.

  Matthew didn't wait another second and marched over. "Chief Meacham."

  Meacham’s thick, bushy white brows drew together. “Matthew? What are you doing here?” He glanced behind him. “Luke’s free to go; we just want to make sure he’s available for another interview, if needed.”

  “Where is she?” Matthew growled. “Where are you keeping her?”

  “Excuse me?” Meacham said, his expression shifting and shoulders straightening.

  “Catherine Archer.” He nodded to the hallway. “You’re keeping her here.”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss an on-going investigation,” Meacham said. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

  "Please, Chief," Matthew began. "You know me. You know my family." Matthew had never used his family name to gain any favors or influence in the town, especially when it came to legal matters. His parents had always instilled in him and his siblings that being a Lennox was not a privilege; it was a responsibil
ity. They were there to protect the town, not take advantage of their position. He'd never been tempted to use his power. Until now.

  Meacham let out a long sigh, then looked around the room. "All right. As a courtesy to you, Mr. Lennox," he began, emphasizing his last name, "Ms. Archer is in interview room two. She's asked for a lawyer, and I'm about to call the public defender's office in Verona Mills."

  “Don’t bother,” Matthew said. “She’ll have the best lawyer in town. Mine.” He turned to Nate. “Call Sorkin.” Nate nodded and took his phone out of his pocket, then stepped away. “Are you charging her with anything?”

  “Not at the moment; not while we’re still gathering evidence.”

  “Then why have her here?”

  “There’s definitely a direct link between her and the victim. I’m sorry, Mr. Lennox, that’s all I can say. Excuse me, I have to make a phone call.” Meacham held a hand up before Matthew could ask anything else, and then he walked away.

  “Sorkin will be here in fifteen,” Nate said.

  “Good.”

  True to his word, his lawyer arrived at the police station right on time. Dressed in an expensive pin-stripe suit and with his hair slicked back, Bradley Sorkin stuck out like a sore thumb in the police station. He was human but a shark in the courtroom, which is why Lennox Corp had him and his firm on retainer.

  “I’ll take care of this, Mr. Lennox,” Sorkin said as he approached Matthew.

  "She does not see the inside of a cell," Matthew said in a voice that was deadly serious. "Do what it takes."

  The lawyer nodded and walked toward the interview rooms. However, he nearly ran into Meacham, who was holding Catherine by the elbow and leading her out.

  Matthew’s dragon roared and wanted to rip up anyone who touched her. He hung on to the last shreds of his control. Ignoring Meacham and Sorkin, he walked straight to his mate. "Catherine," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. Her face was pale, and her blue eyes widened when her gaze fixed on him.