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  Twenty minutes later, Dominic strolled into the kitchen, sniffing the air as she cooked pancakes on a heavy skillet. She nodded towards the kitchen table, where she’d laid out plates, maple syrup, plump strawberries and a plate of glistening streaky bacon.

  ‘I thought you and Greta might appreciate some breakfast,’ she said.

  ‘Smells delicious.’ Dominic sat at the table and started helping himself.

  Lydia heaved the skillet to the table and unloaded the last of the fluffy pancakes on the pile, trying not to think too much about her conversation with Jericho last night.

  After he’d left, she’d slept on the bed he’d been in, catching a whiff of his scent on the pillow now and then. Her dreams had been pleasant, dancing around the memory of Jericho’s body, the heavy tattoos on his arm and the way he had moved towards her. He wasn’t embarrassed about being naked in front of her and after she’d seen all of him, she knew he had little reason. Heat rose to her cheeks at the memory. She forced the image of Jericho out of her mind and returned to the table to pour coffee for Dominic and herself.

  ‘How did you and Greta sleep?’ She sat down and took a sip of her coffee. She felt responsible for what happened to the German couple. After all, Coulter only came to the house because she had mentioned the files.

  ‘She slept just fine. My wife is made of stern stuff.’ Dominic drowned his pancakes in syrup and eyed off the bacon plate with a longing look. He hesitated, then forked two pieces onto his plate. ‘How did Jericho manage?’

  Lydia took a bite out of a pancake, tasting sawdust. ‘Left around midnight.’

  ‘His men came for him?’

  ‘An old biker with an eye patch.’

  Dominic nodded. ‘Frank Turk. He used to come here with Jericho, would hang around on his bike out the front and wait for him. Until Greta discouraged him from coming here.’

  Lydia gave a small smile. ‘Discouraged?’

  Dominic gave her a wink. ‘She caught him smoking pot one time and let him know what she thought about that.’

  ‘I’m guessing they didn’t come back.’

  Dominic gave her a wink. ‘Would you?’

  ‘Was Jericho any good at chess?’

  He laughed. ‘He was the worst chess player I have ever played with. Half the time he would just hunker down and glower at me, like he wanted to shove his Queen down my throat.’

  ‘How did you come to know of Breed?’ Lydia asked. ‘I mean, last night you told me a little about them, but you kind of glossed over how you discovered them.’

  ‘I’m certain we told you.’ Dominic stared intently at his bacon.

  ‘I’m pretty sure you didn’t,’ Lydia pressed, feeling it was important to know.

  ‘Good morning.’ Greta walked into the room, yawning. She wore a cotton dressing gown, short hair at all angles. The lump on her forehead had gone down and a large purple bruise sat on her hairline. Her eyes fell on the bacon on Dominic’s plate. ‘What is this? Bacon? Have you lost your mind? What about your diet? Your cholesterol?’

  Dominic forked the remaining bacon into his mouth defiantly. ‘After last night, a man needs to fortify himself for the day.’

  Instead of arguing, Greta just sat down at the table. Lydia noted the shadows under her eyes and poured her some coffee.

  ‘How do you feel?’ she asked.

  Greta’s shoulders lifted then fell. ‘I will be fine.’

  Lydia sat down and served herself and for the next few moments everyone enjoyed the comforting ritual of eating a cooked breakfast.

  ‘Now, what were we talking about before I came in?’ Greta asked as she poured more syrup over her pancakes. ‘It sounded serious.’

  ‘I was asking how you and Dominic knew about the Breed,’ Lydia said.

  Greta set the syrup bottle down, giving Lydia a sad smile. ‘I had a sister here, Catherine. I came here to be with her. But she died unexpectedly, not long after I arrived.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Lydia said.

  ‘Thank you.’ Greta began to carefully cut her pancake into small pieces. ‘She passed suddenly of a heart attack.’

  ‘That’s terrible.’ Lydia stared down at her barely touched pancakes, unsure of what to say. She wanted to ask if Greta’s sister was Breed, and that’s how they knew about them. But if she had been, surely she would have been a resident at Crystal Waters?

  ‘She was not Breed,’ Greta said, as if reading her mind. ‘She was an occultist.’

  Dominic choked on his mouthful of pancake. ‘Louise was not an occultist. Just as you were not.’

  Greta threw her husband a glare. ‘You always took her side. You! With your background. And I never believed in that hocus pocus stuff we did as children. It was all just games, to be left behind with childhood.’

  Dominic sighed and looked at Lydia. ‘Her sister was a Wiccan. There was once a coven based here in Camden.’ He paused, then added, ‘I had the impression from local gossip your mother was part of that coven.’

  ‘Yes.’ Lydia picked up her coffee mug, taking a sip. ‘So I’ve been told. I’m not sure it’s something I believe though. If my mother was part of some pagan cult, then I knew nothing about it.’

  Greta sniffed. ‘I’d heard that as well, but never saw any proof of such a thing.’

  ‘And do you know about this treaty business between Breed and Hunters?’ Lydia asked.

  Dominic drained his coffee and poured another. ‘Only that until now, Hunters dared not step foot in Camden.’

  ‘Look. I’m having a hard time imagining my mother as a witch.’ Lydia gave him a level look. ‘Do you really believe that magic exists?’

  Dominic tipped his mug towards her with a wink. ‘Never underestimate the power a belief can have.’

  ‘When we arrived here, my sister explained about the treaty and all about the Breed,’ Greta said. ‘I thought she was drunk. It was one thing to mix together a love potion on the stovetop as kids, quite another to claim you could conjure spirits.’

  ‘And how is it you both got to know Jericho?’ Lydia asked, trying to ignore the image of Greta as a little girl, hovering over a bubbling saucepan and muttering spells.

  ‘He appeared one day, wanting to know if Greta was a Wiccan as well,’ Dominic explained. ‘Wanted to meet her, make sure she wasn’t anything other than what she claimed her to be. He seemed a friendly enough fellow, if a bit serious.’

  Greta shook her head. ‘You were the only one silly enough to allow a pack of wild bikers onto the property.’

  ‘I enjoyed his company.’ Dominic gave an injured sniff. ‘Is that a crime?’

  Lydia shook her head, trying to focus on the facts. Regardless of all the fairy tales she’d been hearing, there was one undeniable fact, based on cold, hard facts. Thomas Coulter was a dangerous criminal. He had shot Jericho, nearly killing him, and since she was still the law in the town, something had to be done. Not to mention she’d concluded Coulter might know of who else in town might have a supply of silver bullets stashed under their bed. She glanced at her watch and stood, picking up her plate and walking to the sink.

  ‘I’m going to call in sick today and go to have an unofficial chat with this Thomas Coulter.’ She rinsed her dishes in the sink, then turned to face the couple, her cop face on. ‘He’s got to answer for last night.’

  Dominic and Greta exchanged a loaded look, then Dominic cleared his throat. ‘I would recommend against any drastic action. The Breed have their own rules and laws, as do the Hunters. To get involved would be a dangerous thing.’

  ‘Let the Breed take care of him.’ Greta waved her fork about. ‘You will only invite more trouble if you cross a Hunter.’

  ‘He can’t exist outside our laws.’ Lydia’s voice was harsher than she’d intended and she gentled her tone. ‘This isn’t some cowboy town, where a man can ride in with a black hat and start doing whatever he wants to.’

  Dominic stood, picking up his empty plate and walking to the sink, face contemplative. ‘Yo
u must do whatever you think is right, of course. Just keep in mind that by exposing Coulter, you risk exposing the Breed. Which means they may take steps.’

  ‘What do you mean by steps?’ Lydia asked.

  ‘Perhaps it is best not to find out,’ Dominic said, concern etched deeply on his face. ‘With Hunters appearing here now, it means something is changing with the balance of things. This is a fight you do not want to be part of.’

  ‘The Hunter took what he wanted,’ Greta said. ‘Soon, he will leave and it will all be done.’

  ‘I can’t just stand aside and do nothing,’ Lydia told him.

  Greta stared down at her plate, saying no more. With a last glance at Dominic’s anxious expression, Lydia headed to her bedroom to change.

  She understood the couple’s concern and, to a certain extent, knew they were right. But if she didn’t uphold the law, then she was just as useless as Bowden in this fight. Her thoughts turned to Jericho and how he’d talked to her, relenting to show her a sliver of the monster within. He’d been more honest with her than Bowden had ever been and the idea of marching into the station and trying to convince the senior sergeant to get a warrant for Coulter didn’t sound like a great idea to her. In her mind’s eye, she saw Novak and Bowden exchange glances and roll their eyes. After all, she didn’t understand how things were done in Camden.

  Her lips pressed tight. Coulter didn’t play by the rules and for all she knew, he was paying Bowden to look the other way, just like Jericho was. She needed to play this smart, which meant maybe looking outside the law to uphold some justice.

  * * *

  Jericho sat in his office at the back of the bar, talking to Turk and Reaper over late-morning cups of coffee. After he’d briefed Turk last night about Coulter’s attack, they’d both ridden to his hotel, broken into the deserted office and had found the room where Coulter was registered under Jack Smith. A quick search of the room, however, revealed it empty, the occupant gone. Wherever Coulter had disappeared to, it wasn’t back to his hotel.

  Blades had been sent to check the private airstrip on the town’s outskirts, while some G1s now staked out the hotel in case Coulter returned there, others checking other hotels in the town. At first light, Jericho had sent Frost to Crystal Waters to check their security set-up in case Coulter had the bright idea of showing up there. After all, his bold attack against the Solbergs showed he wasn’t afraid of getting his hands bloodied to get what he wanted. And now, with a clear enemy in their sights, the crew had pulled together, all friction about Lydia put firmly behind them.

  As a bonus, Jericho now knew the Hunters had what they believed to be some sort of cure for the Breed virus. He was skeptical, but perhaps with some luck, it might hold answers to helping those struggling with the virus. All he needed to do was convince Lydia to part with it so he could get the contents analysed.

  ‘Did the cop say what was in the files?’ Turk asked.

  ‘Studies about Breed,’ Jericho replied. ‘I doubt it was anything new, but I’d like to get them back all the same.’

  A knock at the closed office door, then the door opened to reveal Karla. Frost glowered behind her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Jericho asked, getting to his feet.

  Karla jerked a thumb back at Frost. ‘Your dog here won’t take the hint and leave my place alone. If Vaughn sees him, he’s going to be furious.’

  ‘I sent him, Karla.’ Jericho passed a weary hand across his forehead. ‘He was there to help you.’

  ‘I wasn’t even allowed in the compound,’ Frost said from behind her.

  She gave him an angry look. ‘What did you expect? I’ve got Vaughn questioning all my security and my women are being hunted. You think I’m just going to roll over and play nice to anyone who wants access to my grounds?’

  ‘He was there to help,’ Jericho repeated, sitting back down. ‘Nothing more.’

  Reaper and Turk exchanged glances, then quickly exited the office, grabbing the bemused-looking Frost on their way to the bar. Jericho could have killed them for leaving him alone with Karla, though he did understand their unwillingness to face down a furious female Breed.

  She stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. ‘I didn’t ask for your help, Jericho.’

  ‘There is more at stake here than your pride, you know,’ he told her.

  ‘Look.’ She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. ‘I appreciate what you’re doing. I know this is all very hard for you, with Vaughn being around.’

  Jericho sat back, wondering what her angle here was. He knew this visit wasn’t just to complain about Frost trying to help. ‘You don’t know anything about me, Karla.’

  ‘I know that Vaughn doesn’t want you here.’ She ducked her head, dark hair spilling forward. ‘But I do. Please believe me on that.’

  Jericho didn’t say anything to that. He’d done everything he could to discourage Karla’s affections. Not only was she the sister of a King he despised, but she was also like most of the full-bloods. Breed who thought they had the right to rule over mutts. It made him sick to his stomach.

  His caution ratcheted up a few notches as Karla stepped around the desk. He swivelled the chair around to face her, noting suddenly the skirt skimming her hips, low cut blouse showing a hint of cleavage. He ran a hand across his mouth, trying to find the words to tell her nicely to leave. After last night with Lydia, his nerves were tight, close to snapping. Karla hesitated, sensing his tension, then pushed herself boldly between his legs, reaching out to run a finger along his jaw.

  Jericho’s fingers dug into the armrest. He wanted to push her away, even as he remembered the horror in Lydia’s face when he’d revealed a mere hint of the beast within him. He knew there was no hope for anything between them. She saw him as he was; a monster, a creature cursed. A loneliness he never knew existed reared its head and without thought attached to the action, one of his hands rose to brush against Karla’s legs. She shivered.

  ‘Have you got anything for me yet?’ she asked, voice low and husky.

  ‘Nothing yet.’ Jericho’s hands slipped up under her skirt as a pulsing need strummed through his veins, demanding to be satisfied, his restraint fracturing. ‘What does Vaughn say?’ He stroked Karla’s thighs and heard her breath quicken.

  ‘I get the impression he thinks everything is your fault.’ Her smile was sympathetic. ‘And I suspect he’s cooking up a plan, I just don’t know what.’

  The memory of the Enforcer’s presence dulled the heat in Jericho’s blood and his hand faltered. A cough at the door saw him shift away from Karla, not missing the disappointment flashing across her face. He leaned back to see Winger in the doorway, eyes fixed on the floor.

  ‘That cop’s here to see you.’ Winger said, ‘She’s not in uniform, so you might be safe this time.’

  Lydia appeared behind the prospect and Jericho jolted to his feet, sending Karla stumbling back with a startled look. Winger glared at Lydia.

  ‘I didn’t say you could follow me back here,’ he protested, then glanced at Jericho to gauge if he was annoyed. ‘I told her to wait.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Lydia ducked around Winger, entering the office. ‘But this is important.’

  ‘Lydia,’ Jericho said, ignoring the stunned look Karla was giving him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I had something to ask you.’ Lydia glanced at Karla, then stuck out her hand. ‘Hello, you’re Karla Malthus, aren’t you? I’ve seen the website for Crystal Waters. Looks like a real great place.’

  A silence fell as Karla stared at Lydia, ignoring the outstretched hand. Jericho tensed, hoping the female Breed wasn’t going to make a scene. Lydia hesitated, then dropped her hand, looking confused at the frosty reception.

  Karla turned to him, eyes accusing. ‘She stinks of you.’

  ‘Time for you to leave,’ Jericho said quickly, ushering her over to Winger. ‘I’ll call you if I hear anything more.’ He gave Winger a look, one that said, get her outta here
, and the prospect swallowed but escorted the female Breed from the office. Karla threw Jericho a hollow look as she left. But Jericho didn’t care. His eyes dragged to Lydia, registering she wearing jeans, shirt and a loose jacket with the sleeves rolled up.

  ‘Something I can do for you?’ He tried to guess why she was here. He didn’t believe for a second it was to check on him. Probably more to ask again if what she’d seen last night was real. Maybe for more proof. He’d have thought the Solbergs would have warned her well enough to stay out of Breed business, but if they had, she clearly wasn’t listening.

  ‘What was her problem?’ Lydia asked. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

  ‘No.’ Jericho sat down behind his desk. ‘She’s just uptight. As you can imagine, she’s very keen to figure out who killed one of her girls.’

  ‘And so she comes to you, not the police,’ Lydia said slowly. ‘Because you’ve got Bowden in your pocket, right?’

  Jericho shrugged a noncommittal shoulder, suddenly worried Lydia had come here with the insane idea of giving him an ultimatum to confess about the blood in the field. Or worse, to accuse him again of knowing who killed Anna. If she tried to force his hand, he didn’t know what he would do. After all, how many times did he have to deny it, before she’d believe him?

  ‘You’re looking very casual for a workday,’ he said.

  Lydia’s hands fiddled with the hem of her jacket. ‘I called in sick. I just couldn’t …’ Her voice thickened and trailed off. She glared at him, as if everything was his fault, and she cleared her throat. ‘I want to find Anna’s killer, just like you do. But Bowden won’t let me anywhere near the case files. ’

  ‘Why come to me?’ Jericho asked.

  Her back straightened. ‘I thought we could work together.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ He leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk. This, he had not been expecting.

  ‘Yes. You’ve got a killer in your town, hunting your kind. And I overheard some of your crew talking about someone important coming.’