Broken Bonds (Lizzie Grace 3)

“There’s very little chance of her overpowering you let alone me, but I do see your point.”

As Aiden reached into a pocket to grab the ever-present cable ties, she lashed out, kicking him in the shins and then trying to scramble up. He grunted, caught her foot, and yanked her backward so that her spine hit the ground. Then he grabbed her hands and quickly cabled her wrists at the front of her body rather than at the back. I knew from experience those ties were damn uncomfortable—my very first meeting with Aiden had ended with me being similarly restrained. I hadn’t been stupid enough to kick him, of course, and I’d therefore remained upright.

“Right, that’s one charge of assaulting an officer added to your other crimes,” he said. “Keep going and you’re going to end up in prison for years.”

“Other than kicking you—which is not a prison-worthy crime, and we both know it—I haven’t fucking done anything.”

“We have one of the tracking and control bracelets you made for the hunters,” I said. “It’ll be very easy for the RWA to confirm that those bracelets were made by you.”

“So? There’s no crime in providing trackers—”

“Except,” Aiden replied, with just the faintest trace of anger in his voice, “when those trackers also contain a control element that forces the wearer into actions against their will.”

For the first time, a hint of fear flared in her eyes. “Look,

there’s been some kind of mistake here—”

“Yes, and it was yours when you agreed to make those bracelets for a couple of hunters,” Aiden said.

“Hunting is not illegal—not even in that reservation of yours.” Her tone held an edge of contempt. “And we both know you actually have no authority outside said reservation. Expect to be hearing from my lawyers, Ranger, and get your purse strings ready to pay out big.”

“For the most part, you’re right.” Aiden’s voice was cool and mild—the wolf at his most dangerous. “I don’t have any authority beyond the reservation except in cases of murder when I’m on the trail of a killer or accomplice. If that murder involves magic, then I’m legally obliged to contact the RWA before I confront and restrain said killer. Which I have.”

Fear gleamed brighter in her eyes. “I didn’t murder anyone. I didn’t help anyone murder anyone. I have no idea—”

“Enough,” Aiden said. “The bracelets you made were used in the murders of two werewolves—and one of those werewolves was skinned while he was still alive. You had better tell me about the men you sold those things to, and fast, or I’ll make damn sure you and your magic never see the light of day again.”

Her eyes went wide and she swallowed heavily. “I swear, I didn’t know—”

“The men,” he cut in savagely. “Descriptions and names if you have them.”

She licked her lips. “I don’t know their names. But there were three of them, and they paid in cash. ”

“When?”

“Five days ago.”

“How often do your security cameras loop?”

“Every seven days. It’s a simple home system rather than a full-on business one.”

“So you should still have their purchase on tape?” When she nodded, he grabbed her hands and hauled her upright. “Lead the way then.”

“Shouldn’t you be waiting for the RWA?” she said. “Suspect or not, I do have rights.”

“Do I look as if I care about rights right now?” Aiden bit back, and pushed her forward. It said a lot about his control that he did so gently. I certainly wouldn’t have. “If I were you, I’d be praying to every god you believe in that we catch these bastards before they make another kill.”

Her gaze cut to his, but she didn’t say anything. Maybe she’d finally realized there was nothing she could say to make any of this any better. She led us into a small office that sat behind her reading room. In it was a desk, a filing cabinet, a computer, printer, and what looked to be a DVD player with a number of wires sticking out of it—one of which ran down to the computer. She moved the mouse to reactivate the monitor, clicked through a number of programs and screens until the playback started, and then hit fast-forward.

After a few minutes, she clicked the play button and said, “That’s them.”

Aiden reached past her and froze the image on the screen. The three men were in jeans and bulky coats—which should have set all sorts of alarms off for a witch with any sort of integrity—and two of them had peaked hats pulled down over their faces. One of those two had a colorful werewolf tattoo stretching up his left arm. The third man had long brown hair loosely tied at the back of his head and a beard that all but dominated his face. He appeared to have no qualms about looking directly at the camera, which suggested he very much believed his image couldn’t be used to track him down.

The three of them talked to our witch for several minutes and then left.

“I take it they came back?” Aiden asked.

She nodded. “The next day.”