It was an idea, being a truck driver, but she decided against it immediately. For the most part, when the depression wasn’t overwhelming, she enjoyed spending time with people. Being trapped in a truck for hours on end would only reinforce her isolation, her despair especially considering it had been Brent’s profession.
No, she would have to figure out her life and soon. She wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. She was thirty-four. She needed to get her life on track.
But how was that possible when her heart lay six feet under?
2
Clint Ramsey stared down at the name on the grave and shook his head. Henry Ramsey. His cousin. One of his best friends. Died way too young as a result of a drunken hit and run. Not even thirty and three years younger than Clint.
He wearily rubbed a hand down his face. Clint and Henry used to get together to watch football games every Sunday despite living in different cities. They were both gluttons for punishment. All Detroit Lions fans were.
Football had made them close friends even more than the familial connection. After the games, they would commiserate their misery or celebrate. They talked about everything in their lives, including their lack of a love life. Clint was far too busy with his business to date around and hadn’t been with someone in a decade. Henry had two girls he had been stuck on, but neither had worked out.
Henry had died two weeks ago. The funeral had been last week, but Clint couldn’t get away until now to visit. He hated feeling like he’d let Henry down by not being there, but Henry would’ve understood.
When you’re the big boss, you gotta get it done, Henry used to say.
Clint had tried to get Henry to work for him, but Henry had been more of a cerebral kind of guy than a muscle guy. In this economy, Henry was struggling to find work with his physics degree. Clint’s business was landscaping. He set his own hours and did all of the jobs himself except when it was too huge and he needed to outsource it. It was a balancing act, finding time for friends and life in general, which was why Clint hadn’t been able to attend the funeral. When you’re a freelancer, you had to take the jobs when they came. You had to make the customer happy. Otherwise, you’d lose both current and prospective clients, which would mean the death of the small business.
Death. Henry.
Clint hung his head.
“That running back the Lions were trying to get? It fell through. Of course. No one wants to play in Detroit. I have no idea how they’ll be next season. Maybe you can give them some good mojo from up there.”
He sighed and shook his head. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Henry had so much to live for, so much to give. What a waste. Why did he have to die? If he’d been a werewolf like Clint, he would’ve lived, but no. His mother had been human. Henry had a fifty-fifty shot at being a werewolf like his father, but he’d been born human.
It pained Clint to accept how fragile life could be. Even werewolves could die young. Life could be terribly cruel at times.
“I’ll be back soon,” Clint promised.
He wasn’t cut out for this. Sorrow. Despair. Worries. Clint was a hard worker. He preferred to sweat under the hot sun. He liked to get his hands dirty. He was a doer not a thinker.
And Henry’s death was making him think far too many depressing thoughts. Making him question his life’s choices. Making him think that he wasn’t doing enough, that he was failing.
“One day at a time,” he muttered.
With a jerk, he started to walk away and almost bumped into someone.
“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to steady the person.
A woman with beautiful light brown eyes stared up at him. Tear streaks coated her cheeks, but she remained gorgeous.
“It’s all right,” she murmured. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“But I’m the one who plowed into you. My fault.”
“If you insist.” If she tried to smile, she failed. Clint hated to see her tears and sorrowful expression because it reminded him of his depression.
“There should be wider spaces between rows,” he said, sweeping his arms. “Give those grieving space and allow those who have shared time with their loved one’s room to leave without anyone interrupting each other.”
“Because grief is a solitary act,” she murmured.
“It can be, yes.” His heart painfully skipped a beat. He would have preferred to grieve with his family, but he was grieving anyhow, alone or not.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she said.
Shockingly, he grinned. Only for a fleeting second but he did. “You don’t even know who died.”
“I don’t need to. Loss is loss, and it’s painful.”
“A wise woman. You are…”
“Mandy Davis.”
“Mandy.” He shook her hand. “Short for Amanda?”
“Nope. Everyone asks that, but my mom loved the name Mandy, so that’s my name. And you are?”
“Clint. Clint Ramsey. Not exactly a traditional name either.”
“No, but it’s not too bad.” She glanced over his shoulder. “Your brother?”
“My cousin. One of my closest friends.” He tried to swallow a lump of sadness and coughed.
“I’m sorry. It’s never easy losing someone you care about.” Tears swam in her eyes but did not fall.
“Graveyards aren’t the happiest of places to meet someone. I—”
His stomach rumbled loudly, cutting him off.
Mandy did smile then.
Clint rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and patted his stomach with the other. “Any chance you’re hungry too?”
“No. I have no appetite. I should go. I was leaving when…” Mandy took a few steps backward.
“Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you. It was nice meeting you.”
Mandy nodded, turned around, and hurried away. Clint felt like a fool. He didn’t know who she had been visiting, but for all he knew, she was mourning her husband.
And I kinda asked her out. What kind of a person does that?
Clint kicked a rock and left the cemetery himself. He needed some food. As soon as he’d finished a job back home, he’d hopped in his car and drove the hour here. He had a few days off now, but he didn’t want to hang around Toledo. Too many memories. He’d thought about dropping by and seeing his aunt and uncle. Next time.
He hopped onto the back of his motorcycle, slapped on his helmet, and opted to drive home first. Then he’ll get something to eat. Seeing the gravestone really made his cousin’s death sink in, and Clint hadn’t been ready for that. It made him feel vulnerable and depressed, and driving would help him right now. He needed to do something.
His tires peeled, and he burnt rubber, leaving Toledo behind. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day, but he wasn’t so sure about that. Without another job lined up, he wasn’t going to have much on his plate to prevent him from overthinking things. Like how devastated he was over Henry’s death. Like how vulnerable he felt despite being a werewolf. Like how foolish he’d been to Mandy.
Still, hopefully tomorrow would be better.
3
Mandy’s stomach growled the moment she climbed into her car. Maybe she should’ve taken Clint up on his offer to grab a bite. He hadn’t been flirting with her, not really. He’d been kind. In mourning himself. He’s one of the good ones.
If only she had met Clint yesterday, before the disastrous blind date. Maybe then she would’ve said yes. Right now, she was too focused on the creep that was Jack Roberson to even think about another guy.
Well, of course, she was thinking about Brent. Her deceased husband was never far from her mind.
Mandy grabbed Chinese takeout on the way home. An envelope peeking out of her mailbox confused her. She swore she’d retrieved her mail earlier today.
She seized the envelope, and her mouth went dry. There was no postmark, no return address. Only her name was typed onto the envelope.
How strange. After the event
s earlier, she had a terrible feeling about this.
She glanced up and down the streets and even sniffed. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. No suspicious persons or car. No reason for her to be so frightened.
Yes, frightened was too strong of a word. Cautious. That was more accurate.
After one more worried glance around, she rushed into her house and locked the door. Her heart was pounding. Her hands trembled as she opened the envelope.
Mandy,
I want to try again. Give me another chance. I am the werewolf for you. You will soon forget all about your husband. No other wolf will compare. Our love will outlast the moon. You will see. You will love me.
The letter wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be. Mandy knew who the author was.
Why couldn’t she have gotten pizza? At least then she would’ve been able to eat as she drove. Instead, her empty stomach would have to be ignored for a little while longer yet because her destination had changed. Instead of entering her house, she returned to her car and hightailed it to the police station. The envelope and letter crinkled, gripped in angry fists as she stalked into the station.
Most of the police force in Toledo were humans, but the chief and a few of his staff were all werewolves. So was the receptionist, a young woman with permed red hair. She sniffed as Mandy approached.
“One moment please,” she said with a wink. “I’ll find someone perfect to help you.”
Meaning a werewolf.
Mandy waited anxiously. Thankfully, only two minutes later, an officer approached.
“I’m Officer Mallory Wright. May I help you?” The werewolf was tall for a woman, fit, intimidating. Humans would think twice before crossing her despite her gender.
“I hope so.” Mandy reached to hand her the envelope, but the officer did not accept it. “I think I might have a stalker.”
“Right this way.” The officer directed Mandy to a small office that didn’t quite feel as daunting as an interrogation room. “Now, who are you, and why do you think you have a stalker?”
Mandy quickly recounted the two dates. She even mentioned the figure she’d seen at the cemetery, although she wasn’t certain that had been Jack.
The officer put on gloves before handling and reading the letter. Her lips pursed. “I can see if there are fingerprints outside of yours on the envelope and the letter, but I doubt there will be. That the letter is typed means that we cannot attempt fingerprint analysis. Whoever wrote the letter, this Jack Roberson or someone else, is clever.”
“It is him,” Mandy said eagerly. “Who else could it be?”
“The wording of the letter is careful,” the officer added. “It isn’t quite threatening, but it is certainly disconcerting.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Mandy muttered. “Can’t you bring him in and question him at least?”
“There is nothing to go on, I’m afraid. Not yet at least.”
“You mean to tell me that we have to wait until he takes this to another level before you can even interrogate him?” Mandy asked incredulously. This was utterly ridiculous. “Clearly, he’s not going to wait another two years to make a move.”
“Why did he wait two years?” the officer mused. “That is curious. I will do a little digging into his background, but that’s all I can do, I’m afraid.”
“Seriously?” Mandy demanded. “Werewolf to werewolf, there’s nothing else? Nothing at all?”
“Werewolf or not, we have to follow the law and due process.”
Mandy nodded although she was even more furious now. Her worry was gone. So was her fear. All that remained was an anger that burned her from the inside out. Here she was, trying to survive, trying to live, trying to move forward. Now, someone was threatening her before she could have her feet firmly planted beneath her. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
Instead of returning home, Mandy showed up at Olivia Moreno’s house without calling first. Her best friend won’t mind.
Olivia exclaimed over the Chinese food. Good thing Mandy had bought extra. The two heated up the pork lo mien and sweet and sour chicken, but the moment Mandy sat down to eat, Olivia dropped her fork.
“What is going on?” she asked. “Wait a second. What’s today? Did you have your date earlier? An early dinner, right? Why are you here? Why are you hungry?”
“It was that guy,” Mandy said through gritted teeth. She shoved a huge forkful into her mouth and chewed vigorously. “The creep from two years ago.”
“No.” Olivia gasped. “That ass who had all the terrible jokes?”
“No, the first one who sniffed me at the end of the date. He hardly said a word.”
“Oh, yeah.” Olivia snapped her fingers. “That was, what? Two years ago?”
“Yeah.”
“You must have really left an impression,” Olivia murmured.
Mandy glowered at her.
“Sorry,” Olivia said in a rush. “I just don’t understand why he would come around now.”
“I don’t either, but I think he’s also the writer of a mysterious note I received after I came home from the cemetery.” At Olivia’s confused glance, Mandy explained, “When I abandoned him at the restaurant, I went to the cemetery before coming home. Here. Let me show you the note.”
She grabbed her phone. The letter was still at the police station, but she’d snapped a pic of it.
Olivia read the note and shook her head. “He sounds like a creeper all right. Definitely stalker material. I’m so glad you came here instead of going back to your place. Can you imagine if he was waiting there for you?”
Mandy shuddered. The repulsive idea had crossed her mind.
“You are more than welcome to stay here,” Olivia said eagerly. “I’m serious.”
“What about Bob?”
“What about him? He’s never going to be Mr. Right. He was Mr. Right Now for a bit, but he’s gone now. You’re good. Please stay.”
“I’ll stay the night,” Mandy allowed.
She needed her friend right now. Deep down, she knew Olivia wouldn’t mind, but Mandy didn’t want to be a burden. She was worried for herself and her friends. Mandy had never felt more frightened, and she hated feeling so vulnerable.
“That’s it? Mandy, come on. You can’t seriously go back to your place.”
“If he knows where I live, he’s clearly watching me. That could very well mean he knows about you and Claire and Alexis. None of us could be safe.”
Olivia lowered her fork. “I’m so sorry. I swear I checked out Jacob Freeman. He works at the hospital. How can he not be a good guy?”
“Plenty of guys put on masks,” Mandy said.
Her thoughts turned to Clint. He hadn’t been wearing a mask at all. His grief and sorrow had been plainly visible. Why hadn’t she mentioned her deceased husband to him? He’d told her who he was grieving over, but she had stilled her tongue. Why?
Because she had wanted to see if he was like all the other guys. She had wanted to see if he would be a creep or an ass.
Instead, he had passed her test, but she would never see him again. For some reason, the thought saddened her. Sure, even she couldn’t help admiring his muscular frame, brown hair, and black eyes. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Clint couldn’t look more different from Brent if he tried, outside of the two of them both being terribly handsome.
“Who are you thinking about?” Olivia asked.
“Hmm?” Mandy asked, shaking her daydreams away.
“You were smiling. Why?”
“Was I?” Mandy asked, startled.
Her cheeks grew warm, and she covered one with her hand, trying to hide her embarrassment. She had been too uptight to smile at Clint at first, but then, he had made her relax some, and she had. To realize she was smiling now just thinking about him gave her pause.
He’s the first werewolf I’ve been attracted to since Clint.
“I don’t know I was smiling,” Mandy lied.
Ol
ivia would make way too big a deal over this. She always thought herself in love with every hottie werewolf she met. She didn’t know love like Mandy did, although Mandy did wish her friend would find it. Once you met that special someone, your life completely changed. It had happened to Mandy once already with Brent. Was it possible to happen again?
Clearly, Mandy wanted it to, or else she never would’ve gone on those blind dates. Mandy and the girls knew better than to try to push Claire to start dating again. The only werewolf for Claire had been Dan. Since he’d died, Claire didn’t seem to even notice guys at all. Actually, Claire hadn’t for as long as Mandy knew her. Claire only ever had eyes for Dan. Not that Mandy didn’t feel the same way. She did, but their situations were different. Claire had two wonderful daughters. Outside of her friends, Mandy was all alone.
“Spill,” Olivia demanded. “There’s too much going on for you not to.”
Mandy shrugged and then relented. “I happened to meet a guy at the cemetery. It’s nothing major, and I’ll probably never see him again.”
“Was he a werewolf?”
Mandy hesitated and then nodded.
“Should’ve gotten his number for me.” Olivia sighed, but the glint in her eyes told Mandy a different story.
“No,” Mandy protested.
Olivia nodded. “Yes.”
“You’re delusional.”
“I am not. You’re clearly daydreaming about him. Damn. You finally meet a guy who could be something, and you have all this extra BS to deal with. The hunk from the cemetery is not really our target right now, as much as that pains me to admit. We have to worry about you and your safety first. What did the police say?”
“They’re going to try to find fingerprints, but they’re basically a dead end for now at least.”
“Doesn’t help that he didn’t sign the letter. I’m guessing the police can’t assume the author is Jack Roberson.”
Protecting What's Hers (To Love And Defend Book 2) Page 5