Demon Accords 10: Rogues Read Online Free Page A

buddies,” Buck said.
     
    Shorty, whose eyes had hardly left the attractive young woman, stepped over and offered his hand, a big smile on his face.  “How do ya do? John Kane, ma’am.  Most call me Shorty.”
     
    “Fine, thank you, Shorty,” she said, shaking his hand.  He was in mid-shake, staring her in the eyes, whereas most men stared at her chest, when a flicker of a frown crossed his face.  Gone as quick as it appeared, he stepped back as the others came closer, his face going blank, smile gone.
     
    “Lisa, this is Rob Sounder, with Inland Fisheries and Wildlife, and his dog, Brady,” Buck said.
     
    Rob, expression bland but watchful, nodded at her but stayed where he was.  Brady, whose posture had gone alert at the sight of the woman, growled softly.
     
    The game warden looked down at his dog then back at Lisa, a frown forming.  “What are you a consultant on, Miss Renault?”
     
    “Werewolves, Warden Sounder, and other things that go bump in the night,” she said without a smile.
     
    Everyone froze, varying degrees of disbelief on their faces. Rob, the game warden, paused, then turned to the sergeant.  “Are you crazy, Buck?”
     
    “You saw the pictures, Rob.  Shorty doesn’t think it was a bear, and I agree with him,” Buck said. 
     
    The other two men moved around the sergeant and game warden as the two officers began arguing quietly, and approached Lisa with smiles. 
     
    “Scott Olsen, ma’am,” the taller of the two said, his eyes flicking to her chest before coming back up to her face.  He gave her a sly smile.
     
    “Pete LeClair, Miss Renault,” the shorter, stockier one said.  His eyes also roved up her body from her feet to her face, but it seemed more reflex than Olsen, who’d been deliberate.
     
    “What do you do here?” she asked.
     
    “Guides, Lisa.  Can I call you Lisa?” Olsen asked, moving a little closer then necessary.
     
    “Yeah, whatever.  Tell me, you fellas notice anything different about game patterns recently or find any strange animal kills?” she asked. She was hoping to shut down their male pattern boldness quick, and who knew, maybe she’d learn some small piece of information along the way.
     
    “Deer have been very scarce this season,” Leclair said, getting her immediate attention.  “And we found that moose carcass last month.  Remember, Scott?”
     
    The other guide broke off his not-so-subtle perusal of her figure and frowned at his companion.  “I forgot about that.  Young moose.  Mostly just a skeleton.  Coywolves had been at it,” Olson said.
     
    “Had a broke neck,” Shorty interjected in his gravely voice.  He’d pulled back a bit when the two younger guides had descended upon Lisa.  Now he moved forward, watching her as he spoke.  “We thought maybe a bigger bull did it banging antlers.  It’s rutting season.”
     
    Buck suddenly broke off his conversation with the IFW warden and joined the conversation.  “You had a moose kill? How come no one mentioned that?”
     
    The three guides exchanged a glance, then shrugged.  “It was unusual but not creepy unusual.  Animals die—it’s nature,” Pete LeClair said.
     
    “So there you have it,” Rob Sounder said.  “A bear that could kill a young moose happened on poor Morris.”
     
    “Is that why you asked?  You thinking about bears?” Buck asked Lisa.
     
    “No.  If this were grizzly country I’d think that a possibility, but the only bears around here are black bears, which I don’t think are usually moose killers.  But newly turned weres often make kills that kind of stand out,” she said.
     
    “What does a New York city werewolf expert know about Maine bears?” the game warden asked, his tone confrontational.
     
    She sighed.  “I happen to live in the city now, Warden Sounder, but I grew up in Vermont.  My uncle’s a state trooper and my dad was military.  Both hunted everything that you do up here.  I know about local