Cooper glanced at Becker as they headed to the parking lot. “See how easy things are when you tell the truth?”
Becker just snorted as he walked over to his bike. He could have ridden with Cooper, but since Becker didn’t know where the trail might lead, he figured he might need his wheels, so he took his Harley instead. Besides, the ride might help him get his head right where that female werewolf was concerned. Could she really be The One? Yes, he’d been immediately attracted to her and so rattled that he’d barely been able to think, but shouldn’t he have felt something more definitive? Gage and Xander claimed they’d known they’d met their soul mates the moment they saw them. Why hadn’t he?
Unless being attracted to a woman even though she’d been pointing a weapon in his face at the time actually was a sign he’d met The One.
Stupid thoughts like that were still bouncing around his head when they arrived at the warehouse. He pushed them aside as he parked his bike beside Cooper’s Wrangler.
Cooper motioned to the helmet strapped to the backseat as Becker climbed off his Harley. “Why do you carry that if you never wear it?”
Becker shrugged. “Never know when you’re going to meet a safety-conscious hottie looking for a ride.”
“If she was safety conscious, wouldn’t she want you to wear a helmet too?”
“Huh. Never really thought about it that way.”
“Yeah, I figured you hadn’t,” Cooper said drily. “And as long as you’re thinking about it, you might want to consider that a safety-conscious hottie probably wouldn’t want to ride on a motorcycle anyway. There’s a reason doctors call them ‘organ donor vehicles.’”
“I guess I’m just looking for a regular hottie then,” Becker said. “Forget the safety-conscious part.”
Cooper just shook his head and fell into step beside Becker. The crime scene techs were done processing the warehouse, but the young patrol officer left on duty still signed them into the logbook before letting them go inside.
“Were you guys part of the SWAT team that took down that crew this morning?” the patrolman asked. Then he hurried on enthusiastically, “I got a look inside. It was like a combat zone. Must have been crazy, huh?”
Becker nodded but didn’t say anything.
“World Cargo had its insurance people in here a little while ago,” the officer continued. “I heard them say the suspects who got away made it out with something like fifty of those platinum medallions. That’s a pretty big haul, right?”
Becker headed into the warehouse, leaving Cooper to deal with the overeager patrolman. Guarding an inactive crime scene had to be boring as hell, and any other time, he would have chatted with the guy, but right now, he had some urgent crap to take care of.
He headed straight for the crate where he’d told the female werewolf to hide but stopped midstride when he picked up her scent by a big trash can. He dug through papers and cardboard until he came up with her lightweight tactical vest and black sweater. Smart girl. She’d dumped them so she wouldn’t look suspicious. He checked them for anything he could use to track her, but the stuff was clean.
He could have followed her scent out of the warehouse, but he knew that wouldn’t lead anywhere but a dead end wherever she’d gotten into a vehicle. No werewolf’s nose was good enough to follow her beyond that.
He continued on to the crate and was just climbing inside to look around when Cooper showed up.
“What are you looking for?” his friend asked. “I’m pretty sure she didn’t leave her phone number in there for you.”
“Probably not,” Becker agreed. “I’m hoping I can find something that might give me a clue about who she is.”
Cooper rested his forearm on the edge of the crate. “You know, this would have been a lot easier if you’d remembered to get her name.”
“Yeah, well, I was a little distracted at the time.”
Becker hunkered down in the tight confines of the box, envisioning the beautiful female werewolf doing the same thing as he breathed in her incredible scent. Despite the perfume permeating the wood, he could still smell her.
“So what was it?” Cooper asked as Becker rummaged through the packing material in the bottom of the crate.
Becker glanced up at his friend. “What do you mean?”
“What was it about her that got to you? Was it her face? Her scent? The way she talked?”
Becker stopped what he was doing to lean back and consider the question. “I’m not sure,” he finally admitted. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing all day and still haven’t come up with the answer.”