Page 3 of No Strings Attached

Although the rag didn’t mean a crime had been committed, the entire scene didn’t feel right. Morgan pulled his cell phone out and called Sheriff Harper. “I got an abandoned car off of Hinkley Road, right before the old Clark farm. The car is running with no one inside, and I found a bloody rag in the glovebox.”

Hinkley Road was pretty isolated, a perfect opportunity for anyone who wanted to do something without worrying about a lot of traffic. In fact, it was the least traveled back road in Midnight Falls.

“You could have an injury on your hands,” Dominic said. “The heat might have made the driver delirious. Check the surrounding area to see if you can spot or scent anyone.”

Morgan glanced toward the old farmhouse that hadn’t been occupied in years. As far as he knew, the bank owned it. “I’m going to check out the old Clark place. Maybe whoever owns this car saw the house and decided to seek refuge there from this heat.”

It would have been better than sitting in a sweltering car.

“Keep me updated,” the sheriff said before he hung up.

Morgan’s boss couldn’t send backup. Every available officer in Midnight Falls was out trying to help anyone who needed it.

Morgan leaned over and shut the car off then removed the key. After locking up the car, he pocketed the key and walked back to his cruiser. Once he put the bloody rag in an evidence bag, he drove to the farmhouse. The bank must have paid someone to maintain the property because the grass wasn’t overgrown and the house didn’t look as if it was falling apart after years of standing empty.

Morgan drove down the driveway and parked to the right of the house, scanning the area before he got out. Nothing seemed off as he walked toward the porch and climbed the steps.

That was when he saw one of the small panes of glass on the front door had been broken. When he tried to open the door, he found it locked.

Morgan reached in through the broken pane, his arm barely fitting, and unlocked it from the inside. The door creaked as it swung inward.

“Anyone in here?” he called out, moving farther inside, his boot crunching the broken glass on the floor from the window. “I’m a deputy. Yell out if you can hear me.”

No one answered.

Working his way from room to room, Morgan checked the place, but he found nothing on the first floor. As he climbed the stairs leading to the second floor, he noticed that the interior was only slightly cooler than it was outside.

His nose twitched when he caught the scent of blood.

Morgan pulled his gun free of its holster, listening for any noises in the quiet house while he eased down the long hallway, checking the rooms as he passed them.

The smell grew stronger as he approached the slightly ajar door at the end of the hall. With his foot, he nudged the door open then moved swiftly inside, checking behind it before he looked around the room.

It was empty, but one of the closet doors hadn’t been shut all the way. Morgan edged over to it then yanked it open, aiming his weapon.

On the floor was an unconscious man on his side, blood matting his light brown hair. Morgan holstered his gun and knelt, checking for a pulse. It was thready, but there.

Noticing the man smelled human, Morgan used the mic on his shoulder to radio for an ambulance. He didn’t want to roll the guy in case he had a neck or spinal injury, but he saw blood coating the back of the human’s shirt.

As carefully as he could in the confined space, he lifted the teal-colored T-shirt and saw gashes along the human’s lower back. Morgan couldn’t be certain what might have made them, but they looked a lot like claw marks.

When he lowered the shirt, the fragrance of a warm ocean breeze enveloped his senses. For a brief moment Morgan closed his eyes as sandy beaches, crashing waves, and the sound of seagulls overhead made him feel as if he were standing on the edge of paradise.

The human was his mate.

His heart pounded wildly, Morgan checked to see if the human had any other injuries, but so far the only wounds he’d found were on the guy’s back and head.

“Hang in there,” Morgan said. “Help is on the way.”

The guy moaned but didn’t open his eyes. What worried Morgan more than the injuries was the fact that his mate wasn’t sweating in the stifling room.

That was a very bad sign.

“Can you hear me?” Morgan asked. “Can you tell me your name?”

His mate’s eyes fluttered open for a second, showing off dark blue irises, but then they fell closed without the human uttering a single word.

As the sound of a distant siren reached him, Morgan pulled out his cell phone and called his boss.

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