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Venom: Beautiful Killers. Part 35

"I'm the wife."

"In today's top story, more information of the latest shocking death to hit the suburbs of Los Angeles has finally been made public by police. Beverly Hills has always been seen as one of L.A.'s quieter suburbs, where news like this rarely, if ever, occurs. As was reported Friday evening, the body of a man was found in a house at the 600th block of Elm Street. The victim had been found by a neighbor who says he had not heard from him in several days. The circumstances and the crime scene were shrouded in mystery as law enforcement was slow to divulge much information.

"Now, two days later, that information has been made public. As it turns out, the significance of who the murder victim is has increased the interest of many. The body found is that of Arlo McDaniels, forty-five years old, an Edendale resident originally from Birmingham, England. He was found stabbed to death over thirty times. No suspect has been arrested for the murder, but according to police, the crime scene indicated that at many as five people has been in the house at one time. Among the clues found at the scene were at least four sets of bloody footprints and one set of handprints that police say are not human. There seems to be no discernable pattern that anybody can use to determine how he died and no murder weapon has been found.

"As everyone should know by now, Arlo McDaniels was arrested and charged for drug trafficking and possession with intent to sell last year. The case was famous because he was able to get the charges dropped and disappeared from the public eye soon after. Now, police were able to get information from his answering machine at the crime scene that suggests McDaniels was involved in something more, but no one in law enforcement would tell us what that is. The victim's wife has been notified but has not been made available for an interview. All attempts by this network to contact her have so far failed. We will keep you posted as more information is made available.

"In other news, Governor Benton 'Eagle' Cartwright is making a stop at the Los Angeles Convention Center for a major stump speech, his sixth this weekend. He will be in Los Angeles until Tuesday, when he travels south to San Diego. Before that though, he will attend a baseball game, spend some time at the zoo, and visit a couple of small businesses that he has touted in the past.

"Of course, it's no secret that trouble has been following the governor since the start of summer. Two of his employees, as well as the wife of a third, have been killed. There have been no motives to the killings and none of them are even close to solved. No suspects or persons of interest have been brought in. While the murders have scared the campaign, Governor Cartwright's campaign manager insists that the governor himself is not in any danger, and extra protection has been ordered for him and his cabinet members...."

A telephone rings, drowning out the news broadcast. It is on the table in front of the television. Next to it is an unfinished plate of macaroni and cheese and a half-finished bottle of beer. The phone and the food are on top of a small, rickety-looking TV tray table. It looks like it will topple over any minute. The phone rings three times before there is any activity.

There is a recliner sitting at an angle in front of the television. Lying in the recliner is a slightly overweight, bald-headed, middle-aged man. He is wearing a cheese-stained undershirt and gray sweatpants. He coughs himself awake and immediately hears the phone ringing. He springs to his feet, leaving his chair reclining. The braying of the telephone annoys him enough that he runs to it and angrily puts it to his ear. "Hello!"

As he talks, the television news broadcast shows Governor Cartwright speaking in front of a dais with a multitude of well dressed people behind him. In the front row, almost directly behind him, was Vivian Cross. It is windy and she continuously places her hands on top of her head, keeping her hat in place. However, the smile on her face is the biggest in the front row and surely the biggest on television.

The man on the phone hardly notices and leaves the room to continue the call. The living room looks rather small, thanks to the numerous accessories that are engulfing the living space. There is a bear skin rug in front of the fireplace, decorated with silver-plated tools. In front of it is a fancy coffee table surrounded by red, velvet sofas on each side. There is a tall grandfather clock at one corner of the room and a glass, display cabinet holding fine china that occupies another corner. The room is lit by a diamond encrusted chandelier on the ceiling. The elegant surroundings do not seem to match the occupant.

Next to the living room is a sun room, its walls made up of thick panes of glass. Besides the white carpet and a couple of benches, the room is completely bare. The man who had been sleeping in front of the television has decided to take his call in this room, closing the door behind him. Now, he is nearly inaudible. While he talks on the phone, the television news program now shows Governor Cartwright talking to the cameras. He is a Caucasian, middle-aged man with hints of gray in his dark hair. He looks to be in his mid-fifties. He is certainly photogenic and easy on the eyes.

As the news breaks for commercials, a pair of voices starts to fade in from behind the front door. They are muffled at first, but as time passes, their words are more recognizable. Soon, another voice is heard. One of the voices is deeper than the other two--a rather familiar, deep, baritone voice. The deep voice is the loudest one; it speaks with urgency and haste, as if guiding the other two. When they get close to the door, they suddenly stop. A sharp knocking at the door follows a few seconds later.

At this point, the homeowner exits the sun room and the call comes to an end. "Yeah, I hear you, buddy. There's nothing I can do about it right now though." He stops in front of the television and stares at the screen as the person on the other line yells at him. "Take it easy. There's not enough money in the world to fix your problems...and no, you can't live with me. You stay where you are, and we'll figure this out. In due time, you'll be a free man again. Until then, we gotta stay long distance."

A second strong series of knocks startles him and forces him to stare at the door. "I gotta go, Matt. I'll call you back in two hours, when you get situated. But remember, the less we talk, the better."

He presses a button on the phone, abruptly hanging up before any more words are spoken. He tosses the phone on the nearest chair and hurries to the front door. There is a peephole staring right at him. The man looks through it, getting very little information on who is behind it. Carefully, he shouts, "Who's there?"

"Sir, this is Riverside P. D. We'd like to speak to Mr. Reardon."

"What do you want?! What you want him for?" The man leans on the door; his breathing elevates.

"The matter's rather urgent, sir. May we come in, or can Mr. Reardon come out?"

The man dusts himself and takes a couple of deep breaths. He mutters under his breath as he slowly turns the doorknob. Upon opening the door, he steps back a bit. Two uniformed officers, each one a couple of inches taller, crowd the owner of the house. The man to his left has a mustache and neatly trimmed sideburns. The officer to his right has a small, but visible scar underneath his right eye. His authoritative stare gives off the impression that someone is in deep trouble. "Are you Daniel Reardon?" he asks.

"I'm Dan Reardon." The homeowner answers with no hesitation. He straightens his shirt, trying to look as presentable as possible while wearing just an undershirt and sweatpants.

"My name is Officer Ray Stanley. Sir, there's been a complaint levied against you. Could you step outside please?"

The man looks behind him for some reason, then cautiously obeys. He looks on incredulously as the uniformed men split up and allow him to pass between them. He turns to one and then the other. "So, what the hell's the complaint?" A small grin shows up on his face as he waits for an answer. The officers do not answer right away. "Was I snoring too loud?" He scoffs and looks straight ahead. That is when he sees the wolf.

Shiloh is right in front of him, staring at him with quite possibly the angriest stare he can muster. Mr. Reardon backs away until he bumps into the chest of the mustachioed policeman. The wolf points his long index finger at the human's face. "That's him! Right there!"

The man with the mustache looks at Mr. Reardon sternly. "The wolf refers to himself as Mr. White. He says that you're a former employee of a company called Missives, Incorporated...based in Los Angeles. Is that correct?"

Reardon looks at the wolf, then back at the policemen, then at the wolf once again. His eyes seem to bulge as he anticipates a confrontation. "Well, I've heard of it...but I know nothing of--"

"Don't you dare say that!" Shiloh slowly closes in. "Don't you dare say you don't know!"

"Hey, step back! Don't try anything!" The other officer steps in between Shiloh and the thoroughly confused homeowner and places a hand on the wolf's chest. Shiloh is not the type to get pushed by anyone, not even somebody in uniform. But he lets himself get physically separated from Mr. Reardon.

"Just don't say you don't know!" Shiloh repeats. "You know what you did!" He takes two giant steps backward and folds his arms.

"What the hell is going on?!" Mr. Reardon wants to approach the wolf, but officer Stanley is in the way. "Who is this fool? What does he want?"

"Settle down, sir. Don't fly off the handle. We just want to ask you a couple of questions. First of all, do you know this man?" The officer points at Shiloh. "Because he says he knows you."

"I don't know who he is!"

"Mr. White says that he invested money in the company you worked for."

"But I don't know who he is!"

"But you did work for Missives, Incorporated, did you not?"

"Yeah, I did."

"In what capacity?"

Mr. Reardon settles down with a heavy sigh. "I was a systems operator for five years. I eventually got promoted and over time...I was one of the company's three vice presidents. I made decisions that benefited the company's interests."

"Were you involved in the insider trading and embezzlement that led to Missives' downfall back in early 2010?"

"That was not my doing. The executives were all shady."

"Then why is Mr. White pointing to you in particular?"

"I have no fucking idea!"

"Yes you do!" Shiloh snaps and steps forward, nearly knocking down the officer guarding him. "You stole our money! We lost it all to that stupid investment firm!"

"I do not know you!" Mr. Reardon becomes defensive and tries to approach Shiloh. He takes two steps past Officer Stanley before he is dragged back. The wolf also takes a couple of steps forward before being help back by his guard. The two opponents yell insults at each other, attracting a couple of unwanted onlookers on the street behind them. Shiloh is really playing against type, letting himself be dragged back as he shouts. The four slowly and unwittingly step away from the front door. They are on the adjacent driveway when the two policemen regain control of the situation.

Officer Stanley takes Mr. Reardon to one end of the driveway, practically in the opened garage. The other officer, who has the name Rodgers on his badge, takes the wolf to the middle of the driveway, far enough away from the garage to stop the fighting.

"Let's calm down," Rodgers says. His voice is a bit lighter than his partners'. It sounds soothingly mellow and helps the wolf breathe easier. "Now that we know he is who you say he is, we'll investigate thoroughly. Just don't go near him. We don't want a fight here."

"Half that money was my wife's, you know?" Shiloh's voice is, for some reason, loud and whiny. He sounds like someone shorter; his cadence is closer to that of Inverness or Ravi. "That was easily half our life savings! If I didn't convince her to slow down, we'd be bankrupt by now."

"But from what you told us a few minutes ago, you didn't directly give him any money."

"Not directly! But, like I told you before, he is partners with Matthew Ambrose, the guy we trusted with our capital! He may still be missing, but that bastard over there surely knows where he is!"

"Fine. Can I trust you to hang back here while we question Mr. Reardon?"

Shiloh hangs his head. "Yeah, yeah. I'll do that, but you're gonna arrest him, right?"

"That remains to be seen. Just stay right here." Officer Rodgers walks over to the flummoxed homeowner, who is being dutifully kept at bay by Officer Stanley. The uniformed men seem to be pushing Mr. Reardon further into the garage.

"Come on, I'm telling you, I don't know who that guy is! I mean...you've seen the news, right? You've seen what happened to the company. We were vilified mercilessly. Everyone who worked there was public enemy number one! If I figured that anyone in Riverside knew who I was and where I worked, I wouldn't have moved here in the first place! That's not an admission of guilt, buy the way."

"All right, sir."

"Besides, most of the bosses at that company were cleared of any wrongdoing, so that wolf has nothing to pin on me!"

"He says that you are directly responsible for losing up to a hundred and fifty thousand dollars of their money, and that the CEO, Matthew Ambrose, helped you do it."

Mr. Reardon scoffs and folds his arms. "Well then his beef's with Mr. Ambrose."

"Do you know him sir?"

"Not personally, no...only as far as the business goes. He was a good businessman, but ruthlessly so."

"So you had nothing to do with anything?"

"I didn't know he was doing anything illegal. For the last two years we worked there, we've only seen each other in meetings. He moderated while we listened."

"Whatever he's telling you, he's lying!" Shiloh steps forward yet again and continues walking until he is only feet away from the interrogation. "Don't believe a word he says!"

"Hey, fuck you, asshole!"

"You stole from me and my wife! You're the one who should be fucked!"

"Fuck you and the wife!"

The man tries to approach the wolf again. He is held back by the officers, both of whom are slowly losing patience.

The uniformed men turn to Shiloh and back him away from the furious man, pushing him with their hands. Officer Stanly yells "Back off!" and ease themselves up against him.

"This is ridiculous! I'm going back inside! I don't want the whole world to see this!" Mr. Reardon shakes his head angrily and makes his way in.

Sure enough, what was once a gathering of three or four people has tripled in size. There are five small children standing in front of the lawn with four adults straggling behind them. While Officer Rodgers tries to order them off the property, Stanley stays with the wolf. "You say you want him held accountable, but it looks like all you want is a fight!"

The wolf raises his hands. "Hey, I'm not doing anything! And I want him arrested, not just held accountable!"

"The only one risking arrest is you. We'll arrest him if we're certain that a crime has been committed. There's no proof that Mr. Reardon's done anything wrong. All we have are coincidences, nothing more."

"But that's only because--"

"There's someone in there!"

Stanly and Shiloh suddenly look behind them, from where that voice came from. They see a small child, standing next to Officer Rodgers, jumping and pointing at the house. Rodgers asks him, "What you just say?"

"I said there's someone in there!"

Everyone, including the other onlookers, look at Mr. Reardon's house. There is nobody in front of it right now. Stanley shrugs. "Yeah, Mr. Reardon's gone back in."

"No! There's someone else in there!"

"Someone...else?" Everyone but the young boy confusedly stares at the house. Nobody knows what the boy is talking about.

"Yeah! Someone just went inside. She went inside and closed the door."

As the officers, and a suddenly stone-faced Shiloh look on, a short, heavy set woman rambles into view from across the street. She is breathing frantically and marching angrily to the crowd. "Timothy!" she yells. "Get back here! Stop interfering!"

The kid turns around for a split second, then turns back to the house. "But I saw someone just go in. She looked like a--"

"Stop it now, Timothy! Get away from the police. Let them do their work." She steps in front of the boy as her face apologetically turns to Officer Stanley. "Sir, I sincerely apologize. I went to use the phone and let him wander off. I'm truly sorry."

"It's all right, ma'am. We know him. We're used to his stories."

She picks up the boy, probably eight years old, and scolds him before carrying him away. "Shame on you."

"But mom, I'm not lying this time...."

As Officer Rodgers tells the rest of the bystanders to go to their homes, Officer Stanley calmly looks at Shiloh and reprimands him. The police turn their backs to the house, where Mr. Reardon is peeking out the front door. Unnoticed, he looks at the scene outside. The small crowd is dissipating and the officers walk the timberwolf away from the house. It looks like he can return to the calm he had once enjoyed.

He sighs contently and closes the door. To make sure he is in the clear, he looks out the window. He can see half of the police vehicle, but nothing else on his front lawn. The cops may return or they may not, but he hardly cares. He draws the curtains to a close and turns around to sit back in his recliner.

"You know, you should never curse a wolf out like that, even if he does have it coming."

Daniel Reardon quickly takes a couple of steps backward; his back bumps against the red curtains. "Who the hell are you?"

Winter stands there, feet in front of him, holding a red apple in her left hand. She takes a small bite out it without taking her eyes of him. She growls softly and tosses the piece of fruit up in the air. As she catches it, she clears her throat. "I'm the wife."

Mr. Reardon looks on as the fur on the back of her neck rises. Once she lowers her head, he knows she is coming for him. Before she steps forward, he is running for the door. Thinking quickly, she kicks the TV tray. It smashes against the front door right before he can get there. As a result, he falls in front of her. Quickly, he scrambles up to his feet when the wolf immediately throws the apple at his head. It bounces off his forehead and hits the window. He shouts in pain and falls on his back.

Winter has him on the floor--right where she wants him. The seemingly doomed man is scared and struggles to escape his supine position. She jumps over the fallen tray and lands on her knees, right next to him, and immediately hammers him in the nose with a right cross. (Daniel Reardon is quite huge. If he gets up, he has the advantage over her, and he would be very difficult to bring back down. Winter has to keep him on the ground where he can't do much damage.) She wails on him twice more, both times slamming her right fist into his nose. He screams in vain and tries to kick her away.

He manages to barely kick her off and climbs to his knees. He throws open the red curtain that covers one of the windows. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the two officers he had once been in contact with. They have their backs to the house and are still talking to Shiloh. He opens his mouth and takes a quick deep breath. He is presumably trying to scream for help, only to have the barrel of a silver Beretta forcefully lodged into him.

"Go ahead. Call for them." Breathing heavily, Winter allows a short grin to break through. "It won't do you any good, 'cuz you'll be dead before they get here." She slowly eases the gun out of his mouth.

Mr. Reardon looks out the window, then turns back at her. "Shit! He's--"

"Shut up!" She socks him in the abdomen and he slinks down on the floor, below the window. Kneeling in front of him, she produces a piece of paper and holds it to his face. The gun is still in her left hand, up against his ribs.

She leans in closely until her eyes pierce his. "Now, listen to me very carefully, because I'm not gonna repeat myself. You better hope the police out there are still detained, because if they knock on the door while I'm still here, you're a dead man. Now...." She uses the gun to point to the piece of paper. "We got this from Matthew Ambrose's apartment. Never mind how. It's a copy of an e-mail from you to him, planning what you were gonna do next and where you were gonna go after the stock market crashed in 2008. You knew your company was in trouble, and you used it to your advantage. That's how you two got so wealthy. But I don't give a shit about any of that. This e-mail proves that you two were working together until the very end." She looks out the window for a split second. Shiloh and the cops are still a distance away.

Winter raises the gun until the barrel is against the man's neck. "All you have to do is tell me where Matthew Ambrose is now. That's all I want. Where's your partner?"

Mr. Reardon strains under the wolf's weight. Her left knee is pressed against his abdomen, so he is having some trouble getting the words out. His head is just below the window, but she will not let him move. He grunts in discomfort. "Please...my arm's asleep!"

She looks out the window quickly before returning her angry gaze to him. "You better answer. They're closing in."

"He's gone!"

"What? Gone?"

"Yes! Before we founded Missives together...I was a hedge fund manager before we first met. I taught him everything I knew about stock market trading and investments. Once he got enough money, he wanted us to start our own business, which meant I would own three. He learned all that insider trading bullshit from someone else, and when I discovered...how straightforward it was...I got greedy." He struggles to breathe, but any time he pauses, he gets Winter's knee dug deeper into him. "We knew Missives was about to fold long before our shareholders did, so Ambrose and me...we sold all our stock and made off with hundreds of thousands."

"I don't want to hear your life story! Just tell me where he is!"

"I told you he's gone...ow!" He strains as the wolf presses her right foot on his left hand. "We bilked the investors of my other two companies and made off with millions. We were gonna plan where to run off to and which offshore bank...or banks we were gonna keep the cash in. It's all there in the e-mail! We were even gonna live overseas! That was months ago! I came back here to Riverside to settle down and wait while he finalized our plans, something he said he'd handle himself. I've been waiting here ever since!"

"Bullshit! You're telling me he's your partner and you don't know where he is?"

"I've been waiting here, calling him, e-mailing him, and meanwhile spending all the money I took. It's been six months now and the money's about half gone! I can't go anywhere else without being recognized as some evil one percenter, then the media would come to my door, and...." He heaves a couple of times as Winter starts to ease off of him. "Look, Mrs. White, I'm sorry that we stole from you and your husband. But you gotta believe me! If I knew where that son of a bitch was, I'd tell you in an instant!"

With that, the wolf stands up. Still breathing heavily, she looks at the fallen man for a few seconds, then looks at the ceiling in disbelief. She closes her eyes and releases a frustrated sigh. All her hard work has been for nothing. The long trip from home has been for nothing. All that, and her mate looks about to get arrested. While she broods in emotional pain, Mr. Reardon slowly tries to stand, determined to act but wary of the gun.

Winter hears a sound and quickly looks out the window. Shiloh is raising his voice, saying his piece while keeping the angry, uniformed men in front of him. "I'm sorry," she says, as if speaking to him. Suddenly, the man below her stands and tries to bolt for the door; she quickly pushes him down and pounces on him. He wails for help, then takes a shot to the jaw. Winter rears back again and slams her fist down again and again. She continually throws punches until she feels the pain in her fingers. She notices her gun on the ground, picks it up, and uses it on the still conscious victim. Poor Daniel Reardon is pistol-whipped mercilessly as the wolf releases her explosive fury. Her teeth are showing; saliva is dripping from her canines; she is quickly losing herself in her actions, grunting heavily with each hit as she pummels a broken and bloody human being. This is Winter at her most vicious.

A few seconds later, she hears voices outside the window. The police seem to be losing Shiloh and getting closer. She stops what she is doing, stands to holster the gun, and leaves the living room. The homeowner is now completely unconscious. Blood only trickles from his mouth and nose, but there is a sizeable gash on his forehead leaving a growing mass of blood on the carpet.

Quickly, Winter traipses through two rooms until she finds the side door in the kitchen. She slips out and turns a corner until she is near the front lawn. Now, she can see her mate, still talking to the police officers. They are on the driveway, halfway between the house and the street. The curtains are closed, so nobody can see inside if they wanted to. She quietly scampers away from the house and onto the street, then starts slowly walking toward the cops. As she walks, she notices her hands. Both are bloodstained; her right hand, the one that held the gun, is entirely covered in Mr. Reardon's blood. She tightly closes her right palm into a fist and walks quickly to her mate. "Honey?!" When she sees the men turn to face her, she starts running. "There you are! Finally!"

As the confused officers look on, Winter reaches her mate, kisses his cheek and huffs for a few seconds. "Let's go home." Showing embarrassment, she turns to Officer Stanley and chuckles loudly. "Please forgive him. I'm so sorry about my husband. It's just that...ever since he learned that there could be someone from Missives living here...." She shakes her head as Shiloh holds her tight. "Look, I'm sorry for his behavior, okay? I've been telling him to let it go. Our money's gone and it's not coming back."

Shiloh lowers his head. "I just wanted to shame him, that's all. He should still be in jail, though."

Stanley closes in on the couple and slowly, both policemen step further away from the house. "You're Mrs. White? He's your husband?"

Winter tries to giggle. "We're from L.A. We're in Riverside on vacation."

"How do you two know Mr. Reardon?"

"He was recommended to us by friends of ours."

Shiloh adds, "As I keep telling you guys, it was our first investment opportunity. We spent a little at first, then when we got a good return, we gave a little more to that stupid company."

Winter takes a couple of steps back and tugs at his arm to make him follow. "Look, don't worry about it. My man here made a stupid mistake using you two to go after that son of a bitch."

Officer Stanley, who had his left hand near his holster, in case Shiloh tried something, lowers it to his side. "So, does this mean you're not gonna press charges against Mr. Reardon?"

"That won't do us any good. I learned a long time ago that there are two things every CEO is guaranteed in life--bonuses and dropped charges. I agree with my husband. Mr. Reardon should be in jail, but we wouldn't win in a million years."

"Yeah, so...." Shiloh kicks the ground and starts to turn away. "I guess we'll be going now."

"Fine, Mr. White. Just don't go after him anymore."

It is a little awkward, but the wolves eventually say their goodbyes to Officers Stanley and Rodgers. They turn left at the corner until they are out of sight from the police, then pick up the pace as they head to their vehicle. Shiloh's car is parked more than a block away and it takes them almost five minutes to get there. As they walk, they are silent, but as they approach the car, Winter starts to chuckle slightly.

"I take it everything went well," Shiloh says.

"Mmm, not really."

"What you mean?"

She shrugs and sighs. "Mark got away."

"Oh. That's not good. What he tell you?"

They enter the station wagon as Winter explains what happened earlier. When he turns the ignition and starts to drive, Shiloh keeps the same, stoic expression. He nods on occasion, but it is hard to tell whether or not he approves of Winter's methods. She notices the look on his face and pauses with concern, but continues recounting the events.

"So, that's it. Reardon doesn't know where Ambrose is either. He says he's been waiting for months. In the meantime, he's been spending the money he stole, just like Ravi and his brother are spending Ambrose's share."

Shiloh wrinkles his nose. "So, does Reardon look like a former CEO? I've always wanted to live like a CEO does."

"Actually, whatever money he had, it looks like he spent it all. He looked like a slob and was living like one." She frowns and folds her arms. "My hand still stings."

"From what?"

"Knocking him out. It was really hard to bring him down."

"You didn't leave anything behind, did you? Any fur or...other evidence?"

"I was extremely careful."

"Where's the e-mail?"

"Umm...." Winter looks down her blouse--the location from where she originally pulled the piece of paper to show Mr. Reardon. "I think I left it behind."

"Shit."

"Well, don't worry about it. Once the police go to that house and see that e-mail, they should arrest Mr. Reardon."

"Yeah...right after they find him beaten up."

"Hey, it's your plan, remember? The plan worked. They won't suspect either of us. We parked too far away for the police to notice." She bows her head and yawns for a few seconds. "I'm sorry I doubted you. I thought the plan was dumb."

"We had to use the police. There were too many people in the street and there were no anthros in the neighborhood. I had to use the cops to make my presence less suspicious. It was also the perfect cover for you to sneak into the house."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I doubted you...and I'm glad it worked." She raises her head and tries to smile. It is a cheerless smile, but he hardly notices. "We got to him and we didn't get caught. I just wish the result had gone our way."

"Actually, you did get caught." He chuckles a bit when he sees her shocked reaction. She shakes her head in disbelief, causing him to laugh loudly.

"No I wasn't, you jerk. I wasn't caught. Stop doing that."

"Actually, you were. A little boy saw you. I drew a crowd with my antics and he came running over, yelling that someone else just entered the house." He laughs harder at Winter's silence. "Don't worry about it. His mother came and got him before he could do any real damage. But I gotta tell ya, I was scared there for a moment."

Winter suddenly closes her eyes tightly and chuckles, eradicating the fear that she had when she learned of the boy. She shakes her head and covers her face.

"What's so funny?"

Through her laughing fit, she answers, "The boy who cried wolf!"

They both laugh for a long time, pretty much laughing all the way to their next destination. After thirty minutes of driving, they stop and check in at a moderately sized motel. There are only a couple of cars in the parking lot, so there probably two or three guests in the entire complex. Winter holds on to her mate as they check in and enter their room. The room is as bare bones as they come. A bed with two white pillows and a simple brown bed sheet, a medium sized television, and a worn down, red carpet make up the main room. Winter sticks her tongue out in disgust at the sight, but this is where the two will spend the night.

Shiloh leaves for a minute and returns with a green camouflage duffle bag, containing a change of clothes, pajamas specifically. They change clothes, watch a little television, and turn in. Even though there is still light outside, they still decide to go to sleep. He unbuttons his nightshirt and says good night. As soon as he hits the bed, she immediately pounces on top of him and kisses his muzzle gently. At first, he resists; he looks like he would very much like some sleep, but she persists and will not let him relax. He protests weakly, but when she whispers in his ear, he shrugs and starts to kiss her.

"Take it easy," she giggles. She softly nuzzles his neck and places her head on his chest. Her smile immediately disappears, but she is content and at peace.

Shiloh rubs her shoulders, then runs his hands down her back. Once they reach her lower back, he slides his hands into her pajama bottoms and grabs an ample hold of her. She moans softly but does not move. She closes her eyes and grips his naked chest with her hands. He smiles while fondling her rear end, but notices that she is not into it anymore. "Are you all right?"

"No. I failed."

"Aww, no you didn't."

"Please stop, okay? I lost the mark. It's my first failure. He was the very first mark that I chose on my own and I blew it. I forgot about him while chasing other marks. I can't believe I did that."

"It's over now, okay? He's gone, but he hasn't disappeared. We'll get him sometime in the future."

She closes her eyes and presses herself harder against him. It looks like she is trying to bury her head in his chest fur. "Those stupid tigers are gonna get to him first, aren't they? Tell me the truth. I can take it."

The conversation not being as lighthearted as he had hoped, Shiloh slides his hands off her backside. He holds her tightly and lowers his voice. She really likes the low voice. "Is there an answer I can give you that would make you not blame yourself?"

"Probably not."

"You're not a failure."

"Even so, I guess I should now do was Simon says, return the picture, and give the mark to somebody else."

"Look at me." He lovingly rubs her head, playing with her limp ears. "You're not a failure...and you're not a quitter either. Our instincts are sharp and our will is strong. We'll find Ambrose."

She does not look at him, although she nods. "I still can't help but think I'm not good enough for this job."

"Just because you made a simple mistake? You've killed three people, one of whom was a mark meant for me. You've done very well." He suddenly laughs, getting her to open her eyes. "You know there's a rule named after me? Back at the office, there's something called the Shiloh rule."

"There is?" She stares at him with interest. "What is it?"

"Never kill your mark with your mouth. Ever since high school, whenever I got in a fight, I'd clamp down to get the upper hand. I'd clamp down on my opponent's neck. When I was officially hired by Ted, I killed my first couple of marks the same way I fought. I bit down when they were starting to get away. One of the marks was found by police and they started collecting DNA. The case eventually got cold, but that was a close call for us. I was told never to do it again or we could risk capture."

"Wow." Winter shakes her head in amazement. "I learn something new every day."

"So just relax, okay? If there's any screw up in this bed, it's me."

"But you learned from your mistake."

"So will you, but this wasn't a mistake. It was just bad luck. We'll get Ambrose. Give me a kiss."

Winter raises her head tentatively, but it looks like she is feeling better about herself. They kiss deeply; she places her hands on his cheeks and he slowly rubs her back. When he reaches up to hold her hands, she winces, stopping the session.

"What's the matter?"

"My right hand's killing me. I had to really work hard to knock Mr. Reardon down. I knocked him out. What's so funny?"

Shiloh's laugh is quiet but a tad judgmental. "You knocked him out? How'd you do that? You can't punch. I didn't teach you to punch. Matter of fact, the plan was to lock him in a room. That way, you wouldn't have to get physical."

Winter's head return's to Shiloh's chest. "Pamila taught me. Don't laugh, okay?"

"What...Pamila did?"

"Please don't dwell on it. It's bad enough that I'm giving her credit for it."

"Well, I know she's really smart, but she's impulsive...and impatient. She couldn't teach fire to burn. When'd she take the time to--"

"It just happened, okay? I don't know why. She just did it...like she felt sorry for me or something."

Shiloh can see that his mate is once again starting to feel bad. He strokes her nose with his thumb and gets her to look at him. "You know Pamila has a rule named for her too."

"She does?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it tomorrow. Next time she gives you crap, you can use it against her, okay?"

Winter is just beginning to doze. She clasps her right hand around his left. "Shiloh, do you love me?"

"Always, babe. Always."