Page 17 of Memphis Heat

The wolves waited, watching them as they ran, until they were less than a hundred yards away.

At the last moment they took off, disappearing over the top of the ridge.

His instincts screamed ambush, but for once, Callahan ignored his wolf’s voice.

If they wanted him, they could damn well catch him -- and they’d see who came out on top. His wolf had a bit of payback coming.

Clear of the ridge, the slope eased gently down to green grasses that bordered the interstate. Running all out, Callahan could sense he was getting closer, could feel his quarry within his grasp. He laid on a burst of speed, topping the next hill at a flat-out run, his unit fanning out behind him.

They almost ran into his ass as he slid to a halt.

The truck mall. He should have remembered the layout, but he’d been too pissed to think straight.

The I-40 truck mall. The wolves they were chasing disappeared into the crowded truck stop like drops of water melting into the ocean.

There were dozens of trucks at the pumps, hundreds more in the yards.

Two hundred acres of big rigs. Once shifted, all the men had to do was disperse.

Callahan knew even he would never be able to single them out in this crowd.

Callahan reached for the radio. They’d covered nearly ten miles since they started. Might as well call for a pickup.

* * *

“Can’t believe we lost them again. So close, damn it. We were so damn close.” Callahan ground his heel in the dirt.

“Look at this.” Black yanked his attention out of the growing pissiness of his mood and pulled him back to the crime scene. “Here. The way this grass is flattened. Someone was doing just what you’re doing, but on purpose. They left us a message.”

Callahan scuffed at the dirt again. “Well, it’d be more useful if we could figure out what the fuck it is. Looks like one of those Jesus bumper stickers.”

Amanda snorted. “The fish? It’s not a fish, you idiot.”

“Then what the hell is it?”

“Looks more like an arrow.”

Callahan drew an arrow with his boot heel. “ That’s an arrow.”

“It’s also too damned obvious,” Amanda retorted. “This is much more subtle. And something an undercover officer might do in a pinch.”

“OK.” Snorrasan waved his hand to encompass the entire area. “I want this whole section taped off. No one goes in or out until every single footprint and scraggly marking in the dirt has been photographed and impression taken. If Belle and Jarod left us a message, we will figure it out.”

Callahan raised his eyebrow. “A bit overkill, don’t you think, sir?

” He added that last a little grudgingly.

No matter his rank, Callahan wasn’t overly fond of the man.

The fact Butch Carson had nicknamed their Lt.

Commander “Snorkelface” didn’t help. Hard to keep up the appearance of respect when he was trying not to crack a smile every time he said the name.

One day he knew he’d screw up and it would come out wrong.

Snorrasan gave him a steely-eyed glare. “If either of them is able to leave a message, it will be very subtle. They can’t afford to get caught, not only because they’d be killed, but because it would blow the entire operation to hell.

This is bigger than we first thought.” He lifted his head to the night air, inhaling deeply before muttering, almost under his breath, “I can smell it, feel it in my bones.”

It was the first time Snorrasan hadn’t acted totally detached.

He always seemed like none of this really mattered beyond expanding the ranks of werewolves at his disposal.

Jamie had to admit, though -- he was very protective of everyone in the “pack.” It was only outsiders he didn’t seem to give a fuck about.

Obediently, everyone went to work, gathering information, documenting every single scuffmark in the dirt.

Jamie’s gaze kept wandering to Amanda. He was still amazed at the recovery she’d made.

Even though he knew they all healed fast -- knew it from experience -- the scene played over and over in his mind.

The blood pooling under the two women. The horrendous gash in her neck.

Him trying like hell to stop the bleeding.

The worst thing of all was the way she’d looked at him.

She’d begged him not to let her die. Not with words.

There was no way she could have spoken. But those eyes…

He shuddered, bile rising and threatening to bring up his lunch.

As long as he lived, he’d never forget that horrific scene.

Had it been like that when Snorrasan’s men had turned him?

He couldn’t remember. Probably. But this was somehow different.

Maybe it was the fact she was a woman. Call him a chauvinist, but his mother had raised him to protect women, not throw them out as bait for a Russian mob werewolf pack.

When Amanda stood from where she was crouched down taking a photograph, and rubbed her hand along the thin, raised scar where she’d been so viciously wounded, Jamie had had enough.

He made his way across the crime scene markers to her, gently taking her by the upper arm and motioning her to the other side of the yellow-taped barrier.

“Take a break. We’ve been at this for hours.”

“It hits you, doesn’t it? Too much like the scene where we found Reginald and Smith. I didn’t know either of them well. I hadn’t been pack that long. But they were my senior officers. I didn’t expect…”

“Death. I know. I kinda thought being a werewolf was supposed to make us invincible or something. Smith -- he was my unit commander.” Jamie didn’t know why he was talking so much, other than maybe to distract Amanda so she would take the break he thought she needed.

“We were turned about the same time. He was… nothing really changed with him. Even after he was turned, he was always cracking jokes. This scene here today -- it’s so much like the scene where we found his body… ”

Amanda frowned, looking down at the ground tracks again. “Yeah. You’re right. There’s something we’re missing here. Something more obvious than any fishy boot print. What else have they got in common?”

Jamie surveyed the scene again, thinking less, cataloging more. “Empty warehouse. Empty parking lot. Everything trucked out in a hurry. Smell of munitions. That’s about it.”

“Warehouse. Office. No phone lines, so they use cells. But that’s not unusual.

Lot of companies don’t use landlines any more.

But for a trucking company? They usually have a switchboard.

That means they’re either not doing a great job masquerading as a trucking company, or they’ve gone the other way -- they’ve got a whole digital network, routing all their trucks online.

What if that mark’s supposed to be a logo? A cloverleaf.”

Callahan took another look. Cloverleaf. “Yeah. I could buy that. But what does that get us?” As soon as he said it he knew. “The truck that tried to run us off the road last week.”

Amanda nodded. “I should have let you chase them down. The driver had to have been Jarod. He knew we’d put the pieces together. Eventually.”

Callahan kicked at the dirt, smearing the symbol. “He’s leaving a trail of breadcrumbs. And he’s leaving them for us. No one else here would have a clue what that meant. What does he know he can’t tell us? And why would he have ditched their trackers?”

Amanda swallowed hard, her throat working with the effort.

“Because Jarod knows something we don’t.

Because he knows someone else could find this message -- someone who’d put his and Belle’s lives in danger.

Like you said when we found Smith and Reginald -- the Russians have someone on the inside. But if it’s not Snorrasan, then who?”

“I don’t know. But I’m damn sure going to find out. Smith was more than my commander. He was my friend. I owe him at least that much, and a little revenge is good for the soul.”