Mercifully, her fear was unfounded. Paul, who'd once held such power over her that the mere tone of his voice could elicit the heights or lows of her emotions-whichever he meant to target-sounded like nothing more than a man. Nothing but a guy she used to know.
But there was more than that, more than simply her response to his voice. There was the lack of feeling from him.
"You don't care anymore," she said, stunned by the realization.
He huffed a disdainful laugh. "Is that why you ran off like a thief in the night? Because you thought I cared? This world produces an infinite supply of women like you, Jo. Women looking for somebody else to take responsibility for their lives, to save them from the necessity of making choices and paying for the consequences of bad ones. God knows why none of you realize how damn replaceable you are. No, I don't care. I didn't care then and I don't know. But here's something for you to think about. Choices and consequences. You made the choice to leave, to flee like some kind of rat scurrying into the gutter, and you ruined a man's life."
At her sharply indrawn breath, he tutted gently. "Are you shocked that I knew about the crash? Or by the connection? Don't tell me you don't blame yourself. I know you, Jo. I know every … part … of you."
He was wrong, but she didn't have the strength to defend herself anymore because there was one thing he wasn't wrong about. She had ruined a man's life and every single day, she prayed for Rhys's forgiveness.
"I didn't call you for this." She strove to keep her tone even but wasn't sure she succeeded.
"No, of course not. You want something. What is it? Beg nicely. You know how I like it."
Through clenched teeth, she asked, "Did you send someone after me?"
"Ah, that. The police already contacted me and I'll tell you the same thing I told them. You don't mean enough to me to hunt you on the other side of the country. Lawyer, Jo. If you need anything else, you know his office number." Paul ended the call with a finality that felt so much more real than when she'd left him.
Maybe she should have been indignant that he thought he had a right to the last word, but it was such a relief to hear his dispassionate dismissal that she couldn't summon any other emotion. She would never again spare a single feeling for him. Which was fortunate, because somehow, Jude had laid claim to what she had to give.
* * *
Knowing he didn't have time to waste, Jude didn't bother sniffing around the lot for a scent he wouldn't find. Lily's shop was located in a geographically small, but commercially busy suburb that buzzed with activity from morning rush hour to last call at the bars. A two-lane street created an L along both sides of the grounds. Traffic clogged the by-way and pedestrians strolled casually between restaurants and shops, oblivious to the danger of the world on the other side of well-lit storefronts. For as long as he could remember, Jude had relied upon that human blindness to protect him from the sort of violence engendered by fear. He relied upon it now as he silently stalked his prey's path, gaze alert to any shift in the shadows that might tell him where the voyeuristic bastard was hiding.
If it was the same fucker who'd smashed the shop door, the man walked with a limp. That would slow him down. Odds were in Jude's favor that the guy hadn't made it past the tennis court yet, not if he was operating with one bum leg. He'd probably head for safety in numbers but that would require him to either double back toward the open space or scale a ten-foot fence.
In itself, the fence wasn't a challenge, but nobody could get over it without being utterly visible. Vulnerable.
A shifter would be limited to the same paths, but without a restricted range of movement or speed.
Damn it, he needed a scent.
He needed a wolf.
Shielding the glow of his phone, he fired off a short text and then started stripping. As he did, he ground his teeth together so hard, his jaw crackled. If his suspicions were true, if the man stalking Lily was something other than human, he couldn't afford to leave her on her own. The time to claim her had arrived. Transformation was swift and painless, without the cracking and tearing some of the less agile shifters experienced. His spine re-shaped first, lengthening and loosening into the slinky backbone of a house cat. The joints in his arms and legs shifted and the redistribution of muscle mass took him to all fours. His skull had changed by the time he felt the grass beneath the pads of his paws and, as one, fangs and claws emerged.
Silence marked the entire process. The preternatural quiet was one of the feline shifters' gifts; night vision was another. He might not be able to sniff out his prey from a trail of shod footsteps, but he could work with the night, spotting from afar and then slipping up like a shadow, undetected until his hot breath seared the target's neck.