Enemy Within (Moira Ashe Book 1)
Chapter 11

Last night was the last chance Moira had to kill the werewolf before tonight’s full moon, but it wasn’t too late to find out who the beast was.

As Moira sat at her usual table, she contemplated how to expose the culprit. She sat alone in silence as she mended together the tattered shoulder pad, only stopping to place another strip of pork in her mouth before returning to work. Several other patch jobs covered the coat, mirroring the scars on her body. The newest of her scars still felt burnt from last night. It wasn’t the first time she’d cauterized her own wounds either, and she hoped it wouldn’t be the last. But Moira didn’t look forward to.

Although Kelly was still unaccounted for, Moira’s gut still told her that James was the beast. Without any real proof, though, she couldn’t in good conscience kill him. She wouldn’t be responsible for ending another innocent person’s life. Not to mention Commander Murphy would probably execute her if she was wrong. She shook her head. If only she could find a bite mark on James, then this whole business would be over. No more people would die, she would get paid, and Lincoln could finally be on his way.

The thought of Lincoln leaving did upset her, though they’d only spent such a short amount of time together and though he was a pain in the ass. But he’d saved her life last night, and despite herself, she found he was starting to grow on her. She might even miss him for a few days after tonight. But she’d grown used to being alone over the years. Though she’d stayed in Quinn for seven years, she could still count all of her friends on one hand.

Lincoln walked into the inn and waved as he spotted her. Moira waved back then returned to her work. Lincoln stopped and conversed with Bridget for a moment before he approached Moira’s table.

“How is your shoulder doing?” Lincoln asked as he took a seat.

Moira rolled her shoulder. “It’s good enough.”

“Any pain or loss of motion?”

Moira continued to sew. “It’s still a little sore, but I’ve fought through worse.”

Concern covered Lincoln’s face. “Are you sure you don’t want me to look at it?”

Moira looked at Lincoln. “Trust me, I’m fine. I’ll be ready by tonight.”

“If you ever need my help, just ask, all right?”

Moira was about to respond when an idea struck her. She gave her full attention to Lincoln. “Actually, there is something you could help me with,” Moira said as Bridget delivered a plate of food to Lincoln.

“Really? Okay … sure. What do you need examined?”

“Not me—someone else.”

Lincoln gave her a sideways glance. “All right … who, then?”

Moira leaned forwards. “James Nolan.”

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