Skin Trade(123)

“Wait,” Bernardo said, “if Bendez wasn’t the weretiger we were looking for, then why did he attack the police?”

“Good question,” Edward said.

Victor gave us an answer. “He had an ex-wife who was charging him with abuse. He had not been one of our successes, and if the charges were served, then he was either going to jail for life, or…”

Bernardo finished for him. “Or have a warrant of execution on his ass.”

“Yes. In other states, they might offer him a permanent place in one of the government areas for shapeshifters, but Nevada, like most of the western states, still has varmint laws on the books. Three strikes for us in this part of the country usually means death.”

“It might have been useful to know that going in,” Edward said, and not like he was happy with ol’ Victor.

Bernardo took a corner a little sharp, making Olaf have to struggle for balance. He pressed harder on me, and I fought not to make pain noises. He put one long leg out to wedge himself in place. “That pain was accidental,” he said.

I’d been doing a good job of ignoring him, which, considering he was like six foot six and leaning over me, with his hands and jacket in my blood, was a testament either to shock or to my powers of concentration. I was betting on shock. But now I looked up at him, saw him. I saw the flicker of him deep down in those eyes of his. I saw him looking at me. I saw him fighting not to show everything he was feeling in his face, and failing.

He moved his face so that the only person who could see directly into his was me. He gazed down at me, with his big hands in the leather, pressing on the wounds in my body, and he let his lips part, his eyes go soft. His own pulse beat thick and heavy against the side of his neck.

I tried to think of what to say, or do, that wouldn’t make things worse, and finally tried to concentrate on the job. “They would have run him for priors, just routine.” I looked at Victor as I said it, because I couldn’t bear to look at Olaf anymore. I wanted him to stop touching me, but he’d enjoy fear, or even revulsion. I didn’t know a reaction that would lessen his pleasure except ignoring him.

“But Marshal Forrester is right, I should have mentioned it.”

“The claw marks prove that it’s someone else, most likely Paula Chu,” I said.

“But we can’t explain to the police how we know that without explaining your wounds,” Edward said. “They might yank your badge. We get a lot more leeway in the preternatural branch, but if they think you might turn furry for real on the job, they’ll want you out.”

“I know.”

“So,” Bernardo said, “we know something they need to know, but we aren’t sharing.”

“Would they understand and believe us even if we shared?” I asked.

Everyone was silent. Finally, Edward said, “Sanchez might, but I don’t know about the rest. If Anita is going to lose her badge, I’d rather it be for something that the cops would take seriously, not something that they’d blow off.”

“They have their bad guy,” Bernardo said. “They aren’t going to want to believe they killed the wrong guy.”

“But if it is Paula, then we could get the daytime retreat from her,” I said.

Olaf surprised most of us in the car by saying, “Ted, can you take over?”

Edward didn’t argue, just moved up on his knees to put pressure to the wounds. But he gave me wide eyes, as if to say, What the hell? I agreed. Olaf had voluntarily given up a chance to touch me bleeding and hurt. What was wrong?

Olaf was staring at his hands. They were bloody. “Do you remember, Anita, how you could not do your job in the morgue with me there?”

“Yes,” I said.

He licked his lips, closed his eyes, and let a shudder go through him from that bald head to the tips of his boots. He opened his eyes and let out a breath that shook. “I cannot do my job, touching you like that. I cannot think of anything but you, and the blood, and the wounds.” He closed his eyes again, and I think he was counting, or doing whatever he did to regain control.

We were all staring at him except Bernardo, who had to drive. “Is this it?” he asked Victor.

“Yes,” he said.

Olaf opened his eyes. “Some of us need to go back and watch over the woman, Paula Chu.”

“Agreed,” Edward and I said, together.

“Bernardo and I can go back,” he said.

“Thanks for volunteering me, big guy.”

“You are welcome,” Olaf said, as if he didn’t get the sarcasm at all.

We were in a part of town that was more downscale than the Strip, but beyond that, I couldn’t tell much more from where I was half reclined on the seat.