Rolling her eyes, Mel reassured her friend, yet again. “Honestly, I’m fine. The fever broke last night. My arm’s not as sore. It’s just a lack of sleep and nerves over this meeting that are making me look less than prime. I’ll go see Aldrich and give him this report while you take a tour of the city. Then we’ll meet back here for lunch and go shopping.”
“Why don’t you just e-mail the report and come with me?”
Mel sighed. “I wish, but Aldrich hates e-mail. He wants face to face contact. I think he likes to watch people squirm.” Noting Lucy’s concerned expression, she added a light laugh. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
“Well… if you’re sure.”
“Go.” Mel made shooing motions with her hands. “You know you want to take the Chicago Gangster Tour and see where Al Capone hung out. If you don’t leave now, you’ll miss the bus.”
It took some doing, but Mel finally had Lucy out of the apartment and on her way. Gathering her purse, the report on Ryne and a jacket, Mel left as well, though with considerably less excitement than Lucy had. She really didn’t want to see Aldrich and she really didn’t want to give him the report. It just seemed so wrong. Even if Ryne was a jerk, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was betraying his trust.
Her mental debate lasted all the way to Aldrich’s office and continued as she sat in the intimidating reception area, waiting to see him. At least, being a Saturday and outside usual business hours, the secretary was absent. Mel could still recall the feeling of disapproval that had emanated from Ms. Sandercock, Aldrich’s personal assistant. Sitting in her presence had been distinctly uncomfortable. A young paralegal breezed through and cast a friendly smile her way, before grabbing some files and leaving again. Idly, Mel wondered if the young woman would end up as nasty as her employer after a few years under his tutelage.
Shifting in her seat, Mel fiddled with the report; curling the corners with her fingers then trying to press them flat. An incredibly ugly clock ticked away on the wall, its sound accompanying the bland music that was piped in from hidden speakers. It was a far cry from sitting and waiting in the Broken Antler. At least there, Armand would be giving her beer to drink. Maybe that’s what she needed right now. Some alcohol induced bravado to get her through her encounter. An inelegant snort escaped her as she contemplated Aldrich’s response should she stumble into his office tipsy and wiggling her ass. She doubted he’d be as amused as the patrons had been at the bar the other night.
She stifled a sigh and smoothed the wrinkled papers in her hand. The longer she waited the worse she felt about giving her findings to Aldrich. Something about the man made her uncomfortable. She crossed her legs and inhaled deeply before staring at the neatly typed pages for what seemed like the hundredth time. She owed no loyalty to Ryne, not after the way he’d treated her. Yet they had a verbal agreement giving him final veto.
A sound from Aldrich’s office caught her attention. He must have finished whatever it was he’d been doing. Mel straightened in her chair and bit her lip before impulsively folding the report and shoving it into the inside pocket of her jacket. The pages crinkled slightly as she leaned back in the chair, trying to appear casual. She’d play it cool; feel Aldrich out as to his client’s intentions with regards to Ryne and then she’d hand over the information… maybe.
The door to Aldrich’s office swung open. Mel rose to her feet and gave the lawyer a tentative smile. “Good morning, Mr. Aldrich. I got your message and came over as you requested.”
What might have been a smile, passed over the man’s lips as he greeted her with his usual arrogance and lack of manners. “Of course you came; what other option did you have?”
Feeling it was a rhetorical question, Mel didn’t answer, instead entering the lawyer’s inner sanctum and sitting down in a low slung chair in front of his desk; it forced her to look up at him, somehow increasing his intimidation factor. She remembered the room from last time, when she’d interviewed for the job; leather, wood, what was probably a beautiful view, if one wasn’t so over-powered by the occupant of the office. She was sweating again. Had the fever returned or did the lawyer just make her that nervous? Surreptitiously, she wiped her hands on her pant legs and waited for Aldrich to speak.
Unfortunately, he didn’t. The annoying man just sat there, casually leaning back in his leather chair, fingers steepled, staring at her blandly. His eyebrows raised in the faintest hint of inquiry. Mel licked her lips and wondered what he was waiting for. She shifted nervously and refolded her hands, met his gaze then looked away. Why didn’t he say something? Finally, unable to stand it any longer, she broke the silence between them.
“Well, I’m back.” She winced. What an idiotic comment. He could see she was back. She was sitting right in front of him!
“So you are. A stellar comment, Ms. Greene. I can only hope that your observations on Mr. Taylor are equally… profound.”
“Well, about that… ”
Aldrich sat up straighter. “You do, of course have a report for me.”
She could feel the pages poking her in the ribs, each jab like a prod to her conscience, reminding her that their existence was her fault. For whatever reason, Ryne didn’t want people knowing much about him, and by creating the report she was going expressly against his wishes. “Um… ”
“Yes?”
“I was wondering what exactly Mr. Greyson was going to do with the report?”
The lawyer’s eyebrows shot up. He was obviously unused to being questioned. “That is really none of your business. Mr. Greyson did not hire you to delve into his personal motivation.”
“It’s just that Ryne—Mr. Taylor—was reluctant to share much about himself. He likes his privacy.”
“Artists, authors, movie stars… A certain amount of celebrity is part of their job description. Some degree of privacy must be sacrificed if they wish the public to buy into their product. I’m sure Mr. Taylor knew this when he began his career. Now he must ‘suck it up’ as I believe you young people are fond of saying.”
“I know celebrities have to—”
“Ms. Greene. I do not have the time, or the inclination, to debate the issue. Kindly hand over the report and let's be done with it. I have other appointments today.”
“No… ”
“No?”
“No. I… I want to think about this some more.”
“You do have a report, don’t you?”
“Yes! Of course! It’s just—”
“If you’ve been paid to write a report, Ms. Greene, then you have a legal obligation to hand over said report. If you chose not to, you may not like the steps I will be forced to take in order to gain ownership for my client.” Aldrich stood up and rounded the desk. His tone was no longer that of a bland and boring lawyer, nor was his face impassive. A nastiness was had crept into it, making Mel feel nervous and bringing with it a wave of nausea. Her head started to spin and her skin prickled all over.
Swallowing hard, she stood and backed around behind the chair she’d been sitting in, gripping its back to keep her balance. The papers in her pocket seemed to crinkle with betraying loudness as she moved and she instinctively clutched her hand over them. Aldrich seemed to zero in on the gesture and stalked closer, his eyes narrowed and his tone threatening.
“You will hand over those papers or live to regret it, Ms. Greene. The power wielded by Greyson Inc. is not something you should take lightly.”
An unexpected flash of anger sparked inside her. Mel was surprised to feel the sickness being pushed aside. It was almost as if some beast was within her, ready to snarl at this person who dared threaten her. Speaking with much greater conviction than she felt—or at least than she thought she felt—she threw back her shoulders and raised her chin. “Back off. I’ll give it to you when I’m good and ready and not a minute sooner.” With that she whirled around and stalked out of the office, catching a vague impression of Aldrich’s shocked face before slamming the door shut.
*
****
The noise of the terminal washed over him as Ryne strode across the concourse, his long legs covering the distance to the exit in considerably less time than his fellow passengers. Of course, the fact that his face was set in a deadly scowl also helped matters along, as the swirling mass of humanity took one look at him and quickly stepped out of his way. The small tote slung over his shoulder, held the few essentials he’d tossed in it before making a hasty departure from Stump River.
After speaking with Kane, he’d had Daniel searching the airlines for a last minute flight to Chicago, then drove like a maniac to Toronto only to arrive too late for the Friday flight. Thankfully, there had been a seat available on Saturday and he was now where he needed to be, which was in Chicago on Melody’s trail.
As much as he hated abandoning his new pack members, he needed to deal with this situation quickly or there could very well be no pack to worry about. Bryan and Daniel were capable of carrying out their duty in his absence. His instructions had been specific for each of the possible scenarios that might evolve. At best, he’d be home in forty-eight hours happily helping the Loberos get settled. If the worst case scenario came to pass… Well, the evening news would tell that tale; sensational stories of murder and mass suicide always made the headlines.
The bright sun made him squint as he stepped outside and settled into the long line of people waiting to catch a taxi-cab. He could push his way to the front—a warning growl and a hard stare would keep anyone from protesting—but he was trying to keep as low a profile as possible. And so he joined the line with barely suppressed impatience and spent the time reviewing his plans while arguing with his inner wolf over their wisdom.
Despite what he’d told Kane, he had doubts about his ability to deal with Melody dispassionately. Inexplicably, his wolf had started to bond with her, ignoring all reason. Melody was human. There was no reason for his wolf to respond to her; it never had to any of the other human females he’d bedded. Why did it have to become difficult now, when he needed to be at his most ruthless?
“Hey, do you want that cab or not? We don’t have all day here!”
A disgruntled voice broke into his reverie and Ryne realized he was finally at the front of the line. Climbing in the back of the waiting vehicle, he gave the driver the address Kane had texted to him and then sat brooding over what he might have to do. He didn’t know Chicago all that well and it would make things much more difficult. There were people everywhere and he imagined most were just waiting to be witnesses and report any strange goings-on, hoping for a few minutes of fame on the local news.
Somehow he’d have to lure Melody out of her apartment to a remote location. If he questioned her in her home, she might become suspicious. Actually, given how they’d parted, she might not want to talk to him at all. He grimaced, thinking of that last unpleasant conversation. Had he known he would still need her cooperation, he might not have been so harsh.
The cab pulled up in front of an apartment building and Ryne stepped out onto the sidewalk. He paid the driver then surveyed Melody’s home. To say it was rundown was being too generous and the neighbourhood… A grimace of distaste passed over his face as the smell of exhaust and garbage bins wafted past. How could she stand to live in such as seedy environment?
He walked up the steps and entered the building. Of course, there was no security at the entrance. A quick glance toward the yellowing ‘out of order’ sign on the elevator told him it hadn’t been working for quite some time. Taking the stairs, he easily climbed the five flights, not feeling in the least winded when he reached his destination. With studied casualness, he strolled down the hallway, scanning the numbers on the doors until he came to Melody’s. Sounds drifted around him; blaring televisions mixed with arguing voices and crying children. Her apartment however, was silent.
Ryne tested the door knob only to find it locked. He considered his options then decided to just force his way in—at this stage, subtlety wasn’t a consideration anymore. A glance up and down the hall revealed no prying eyes, so he grabbed the knob and rammed the door jam with his shoulder. Not surprisingly, the wood quickly gave way and he entered her home.
Melody’s scent surrounded him the minute he stepped inside. He paused and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. A low rumble emitted from his chest as the delicious smell filled his nostrils and nourished his spirit. His wolf stirred with excitement. The female! Where is she?
I don’t know where she is, he answered himself, just be quiet. He peeked in the bedroom and bathroom, noting that Lucy had obviously been there at one point, her scattered clothing, as well as her scent betraying her presence. A few papers were scattered on the kitchen counter and he flipped through them. Mostly junk mail, a few bills, nothing of importance, but… ah ha! On a nearby table, her laptop was open and still on. He sat down in front of the machine and checked the start menu for recent activity.
His name leapt off the screen, as did a certain picture file, which he knew he’d deleted. Why that little bitch! She’d somehow managed to get more copies of his pictures. Anger flared as he moved the mouse to open the file with his name on it. Quickly he scanned the document, amazed at how much she’d managed to piece together. The more he read, the more he scowled and by time he reached the final paragraphs, he was ready to hurl the machine across the room. There it was in black and white. She knew he’d taken the pictures in Oregon.
Ryne felt the colour drain from his face. How many connections and assumptions had her agile brain come up with? If she knew about Oregon, did she know about Kane? Did she know that the wolf in the picture was actually a werewolf? And was she, at this moment, off telling her boss, Aldrich, that not only was Ryne Taylor a werewolf, but that a whole pack resided in Smythston? His mind filled with images; hordes of scientists and TV crews, men with tranquillizers and guns, gawkers and protestors, all descending on Kane’s pack.
They’d surround the territory; breach the perimeter, possibly wondering why there was no resistance. The invaders would approach the deathly quiet houses, cautiously entering, only to find bodies. Dead bodies. Strewn about the house. In the bedrooms. In the kitchen. In the games room where the pack used to gather… Cold lifeless bodies that would stare with unseeing eyes at the invaders who had unknowingly precipitated the massacre.
All identifying papers would have been destroyed. Kane would see to that. The nameless corpses would be studied to no avail and then buried in unmarked graves, their identities forever lost amid the swirl of rumours that would arise. Words such as cult, brainwashing, and mass suicide would be bandied about. Pictures and stories would be plastered in newspapers and magazines, across TV and computer screens around the world…
Ryne’s mind focused on one image; Kane and Elise lying dead in each other’s arms, their hands on the small mound that would have been their first born. He shook his head. Surely Kane wouldn’t allow Elise to stay; he’d send her away… yet would she go? Not likely. Elise was devoted to her mate. She’d refuse to leave.
A feeling of fury and terror such as he’d never known washed over Ryne. This was all Melody’s fault and he’d make sure she would pay. Pay for each life that was lost, each pup left orphaned. When his wolf howled in protest, he ruthlessly crushed it. He was icy cold, his mouth dry. His brain could barely function. Feeling detached from his body, he watched as his hand reached for the phone, dialled a familiar number and brought the receiver up to his ear. His lips barely responded to his command to speak.
“Kane? Start the dispersal.”
Chapter 32
After speaking with Kane, Ryne had searched Melody’s computer, ruthlessly deleting information. When he came upon Aldrich’s address and the name Greyson Inc., he made note of it before erasing the rest of the relevant files. Melody was probably with her co-conspirator at this very moment. With any luck he’d catch them together. He would deal with both of them at the same time. Filled with ruthless determination, he pushed away from the computer, wiping his prints from
the keys before exiting her apartment. In a similar manner, he cleaned the door handle, just in case. His finger prints weren’t on file anywhere, but you could never be too careful.
Should anyone have cared, it was a reasonable pleasant day for early spring. The sun was shining, pollution levels were low, and the noise—for a large city at least—was moderate. A gentle breeze was drifting down the street. As he stepped outside of the apartment building, Ryne froze and sniffed the air. Melody! She was nearby. He stepped back into the shadows of the doorway and searched the street for her. There she was, about half a block away, walking quickly towards his location.
Making a split-second decision, Ryne decided to let her come to him. If he confronted her on the street, a passer-by might notice, but the building’s foyer was relatively more private. He strongly suspected that her neighbours were not members of the Good Samaritan club and would probably turn a blind eye to anything that happened rather than getting involved. In other circumstances, he might have found such callousness disturbing, but right now it worked in well with his plans.
As she got closer, he noted that something was off about her appearance, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. She was moving differently and he was sure he detected slight shivers wracking her body. Now what could that be about? His wolf whined in concern and he had to restrain himself from stepping forward and going to her.
Instead, he backed farther into a corner close to the stairwell. Once she was completely inside, he’d have her. The outer door opened. A sliver of bright sunlight fell across the dull terrazzo floor and for a moment, her profile was perfectly silhouetted. He could see the curve of her cheekbone, the fullness of her lips, her cute nose… His wolf slipped through his defences once again and rumbled in approval at her proximity. Yes! We are together again!
The Keeping Page 33