Taming the Moon. Sherrill Quinn

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СКАЧАТЬ ass, but he did. The fact that he no longer thought of himself as human started the rage building again.

      He used to be human. Now he was something…

      More.

      Or perhaps something less.

      Maybe a little of both.

      “Look, I…” Sully broke off with a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. He loosened his tie. Pushing his suit jacket back, he thrust his hands into his front pockets. “I can’t go into details, all right? I’m just a bit tired.”

      With a slight lift of his eyebrows, Lindstrom gave a nod telling Sully clearer than words could that he wasn’t buying that, either. “Well, you can expect a call to the Chief’s office. You know that, right?”

      Sully pursed his lips. Frustration burned in his gut, tempting the wolf to come out and take care of things. With a growing sense of panic, he pushed the beast down again and turned toward the park exit. “He can do whatever he wants,” he said with a barely restrained growl.

      “Yes, he bloody well can.” Lindstrom put one hand on Sully’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “And if you go in with an attitude like that, mate, he’ll slap you with a suspension so fast your head will spin.”

      Sully jerked away from the detective. The entire situation was a sodding mess, and the only ones who could help him were the two people he didn’t want to see. If his so-called friends had been up front with him from the beginning, his life might not have been plunged into this hell. He trapped a howl of fury in his throat. “You let me worry about that,” he rasped and stalked to his car.

      “Yeah. I’ll do just that,” he heard Lindstrom mutter.

      Sully unlocked his unmarked sedan with the remote key fob and opened the door. He sighed and looked at Lindstrom over the roof of the car. “Thanks.”

      “For what?”

      Sully jerked his head toward the park. “For back there. For…bringing me to my senses.”

      The detective shrugged. “You’d do the same for me.”

      Sully gave a nod. He would. They had each others’ backs. “See you back at the Yard.”

      A scant half hour later, Sully stood in front of his superior’s desk, receiving the dressing-down of his life.

      “Just what the hell were you thinking, Sullivan?” George Glace’s voice climbed a full octave.

      Sully hid a wince. The Chief Superintendent was in rare form. Rightly so, he supposed, but it didn’t mean he liked being taken to task like a boy still in knee britches.

      “Tackling a fleeing suspect is one thing, but wrapping your hands around his throat is unacceptable. And, I might add, bordering on illegal as it would imply excessive force. Not to mention it’s highly irregular.”

      Sully turned his face to one side to hide a smirk. Everything with Glace was “highly irregular,” from a hangnail to one of his best DCIs nearly choking a suspect to death.

      Though what he’d wanted to do was feast.

      That thought erased the smirk.

      “You’d better not be smiling.” The Chief Superintendent stalked around the corner of his desk, his tall, lanky frame as stiff as a two-by-four. “The only possible saving grace for you in all of this is that the suspect seems to be quite mad. He’s been raving on about your eyes changing color and your teeth being sharp like an animal’s.” He shook his head. “I won’t be surprised if the tox screen comes back showing he’s high on something.”

      Sully remained silent. He could guarantee forensics would show the suspect was high. Sully had smelled it on him. The Chief was right in one thing. It definitely worked in his favor if people thought the rapist was a strung-out lunatic.

      Because everyone knew that werewolves weren’t real.

      He clenched his jaw so hard it cracked.

      “What’s gotten into you?” Glace crossed his arms, drumming the fingers of one hand against the opposite elbow. “You’ve been back from your holiday for two days, acting like a lion with a thorn in its paw.”

      Make that a wolf, and he’d be half right—though the thorn wasn’t in his paw.

      Which was why he was so surly.

      “Sir—”

      “Save it.” Glace walked around his desk and sat down, tipping his chair back. The slight squeak as he rocked back and forth grated on Sully’s already tightly drawn nerves. The Chief sat forward and rested his elbows on the desk, steepling his fingers. His graying eyebrows beetled. “At this moment, Detective Chief Inspector Sullivan, you are on an extended personal leave of absence.”

      “Leave of absence!” Sully scowled. “I don’t need a bloody leave—”

      “Yes. You do.” Glace eyed Sully. “I could make it something of a more official nature, though I’d prefer not to have that sort of thing on your record.” He watched Sully, and when he didn’t respond, Glace went on. “Turn in your badge and car keys. You’re to conduct no official police business during your leave. You may keep your weapon.” He put the tip of his index finger on his desk blotter, pointing to the spot where the badge was to be placed.

      Sully ground his jaw but did as directed. He yanked his badge off his belt and tossed it onto the blotter. Taking the car keys from his pocket, he plunked them onto the desk as well.

      “Whatever’s eating at you, Sullivan, I suggest you deal with it while an investigation into this”—Glace waved one long-fingered hand—“distasteful situation is conducted. And hope that, because of the suspect’s unhinged behavior, police brutality charges aren’t brought against you.”

      Sully repressed the urge to snarl. “Maybe I’ll go on another holiday.”

      The Chief opened the top drawer of his desk and scooped Sully’s life into it. “Good idea. You do that. And get your head screwed on straight while you’re at it.” He closed the drawer and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “You’re a good policeman, Sullivan. A good man. I’d hate to see your career go arse over elbow.”

      Sully nodded, the only thing he could manage at the moment. When Glace gave a wave of dismissal, Sully turned and strode out of the office.

      By the time he got to his desk the rage had returned. He wanted to hit something. Someone. He wanted to run until he couldn’t run anymore.

      What he didn’t want to do was talk to Declan, the sodding prat who’d gotten him into this mess. That Irish devil was a bastard of the first degree. Declan was a dirty, rotten son of a bitch who’d let him get involved in something dark and dangerous without giving him all the facts. As far as Sully was concerned, it was Declan’s fault he would turn furry once a month, starting…

      He glanced at his desk calendar. Starting in two fucking weeks. Though he’d felt an urge to shift a couple of times already, he’d have no choice of it during the full moon.

      Damn Declan. He was…

      Sully СКАЧАТЬ