Wolf Queen

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Wolf Queen Page 8

by Alexis Pierce


  The store is on the more expensive lower-level of the mall, and there’s just one middle-aged man sitting at the counter.

  “Freya,” he says excitedly, opening his arms. “It has been too long.” He doesn’t give so much as a glance to my girls, for which I’m thankful. “What has Kaja sent for me now?”

  Mom has been selling small pieces here for years, just things she’s picked up here and there. “Something you’re going to want,” I say, pulling the box out of my pocket and passing it over the counter.

  He opens it, his eyes widening the moment he sees the gems inside.

  “These are lovely pale emeralds,” he says.

  I shake my head. “Maybe you should look again.”

  He pulls out a sterling silver jeweler’s loop, inspecting the gems for a moment before his jaw completely drops. I think he might faint.

  “You cannot sell these,” he says. “You should wear them, show the world your beauty.” He snaps the box shut, passing it back over the glass counter.

  I shake my head. “I know you want them more than me,” I say. “I have another identical pair at home.” A lie, but he seems to think that we’re super-rich because of my mom’s history with the store.

  He frowns, timidly opening the box again like the earrings are going to explode.

  “I can give you fifteen hundred for them,” he says, and I let out a boisterous laugh.

  “Gustav, you are hilarious.” I grab the box off the counter, and his Adam’s apple bobs with nerves. He’s never been good at haggling.

  Before I can pocket it, he reaches out. “Eighteen,” he says.

  I shake my head. “Sorry, man. I’m taking the girls shopping, so I don’t have all day to haggle with you.”

  After a moment chewing his lip, he says, “I can do two thousand and throw in a pearl necklace.”

  That’s what I’m talking about. I knew the moment he saw the natural green diamonds, he’d want them more than anything.

  I act like I’m considering it for a moment. “Let me see the necklace.”

  He leads me over to a separate case, where several necklaces lie. The one he’s talking about is a Tahitian Pearl strand, black pearls that have the slightest green sheen. The tag lists it at twelve hundred dollars, which is clearly high for the piece if he’s willing to let it go on top of a two thousand dollar purchase. The necklace plus two grand, though…

  I sigh. “Alright, you’ve got me sold. But only because the necklace is so pretty. Will you wrap it for me?”

  I walk away from the store with a new two-thousand dollar deposit on my debit card, as well as the necklace. My heart speeds. Will Eve like this necklace? I guess if not she can always sell it, but I can’t help but picture her wearing it.

  The rest of the mall trip is less stressful. As I predicted she would, Anna leads us into Hot Topic. She picks out a few pairs of baggy pants and some baggy shirts, as well as some random pieces of jewelry, rubber bracelets and spiked necklaces. With her head shaved, she looks properly punk. I consider a few tubes of hair dye for her close buzz, but I’d rather take her to a professional than do something like that myself. She fingers a ten-pack of earrings, and I glance at her ears to find that they aren’t pierced.

  “We can make an appointment at a parlor to get your ears pierced if you want,” I offer, and she gives me that tiny, shy smile.

  I pay for the clothes, and a tattoo place in the mall takes walk-ins. There aren’t any other customers, so the girl at the counter with several piercings, gauged ears, and tattoos all over brings Anna to the back.

  “Are we just doing normal piercings?” she asks, her voice cheerier than her appearance. Anna looks at me, and Poppy gapes at all the art on the walls.

  “Whatever she wants,” I say with a shrug. I had to sign a release at the counter, and Anna looks through pictures in a book before picking a bar across the top of her ear and two studs, one in each lobe. Instead of a pair of sparkly Swarovski studs, she gets a pair of plastic earrings that look like snakes hanging from her ears.

  “That definitely suits you,” I say when we get back to the car, and she almost grins at me. “Did it hurt?” She shakes her head, her smile still wide.

  Poppy reaches for the earrings, touching them delicately. “Pretty,” she breathes, and Anna sends her a tender glance.

  I can’t wait to get home so I can show Eve the necklace I got her.

  And the two thousand dollars for the pack, obviously.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Eve

  When Freya walks into my office, she’s carrying a little black bag with metallic gold edges. She sets it on my desk and then sits beside it instead of in one of my visitor chairs.

  “What’s this?” I ask, looking her up and down as she leans back on the aged mahogany.

  She grins at me, her pencil skirt riding up her thigh in an extremely distracting manner.

  “Open it,” she says.

  I frown and pull out the black tissue paper carefully. Did she bring me a bomb or something?

  Instead of a bomb, though, there’s a velvet jewelry case. Her hands tense on the desk, and I set it right in front of me carefully.

  “Did your mom finish the jewelry?” I ask, confused by all the showmanship.

  She clucks her tongue. “She did. But this isn’t that. It’s a gift. For you.”

  The whole thing seems far too fancy for Freya to have gotten for me. I watch her for another moment, then look down at the box. I don’t think anyone’s ever bought me jewelry before. Even Thompson and Anderson haven’t actually gotten me any sort of gifts ever, unless you count going on a Walmart run for printer paper for my office printer a month ago.

  I crack open the box carefully, and my eyes widen when I see what’s nestled inside.

  “Freya,” I breathe, afraid to touch the black pearl necklace. “Where did you get this?”

  She leans forward, gathering her hands in her lap. “Do you like it?”

  I blink. “It’s too much, I don’t know what I did to earn this.”

  “But do you like it?”

  There’s the slightest hint of fear in her voice, and I look up to find her eyes tight.

  “It’s absolutely perfect,” I say, and a grin spreads across her face.

  “I’m glad. It seemed like something you would wear.”

  I trace a finger over one of the pearls. “Is it real?”

  She nods. “I got it in a trade for some earrings Mom made. He offered two grand plus the necklace, and I thought that you needed something like this.”

  I look up. “Two grand?”

  She moves from the desk to come around, lifting the pearl strand out of the box. “Hold your hair up,” she says, and I comply. “Mom changed all the gems. That green diamond? She made two pairs of earrings from it, and the smaller pair went for two grand with a guy I know. I think you could probably sell him something small. Just don’t let him lowball you.”

  When she’s done clasping the back of the necklace, she pulls out her phone and hands it to me. The reverse camera is already open, and I inspect myself in this new piece of jewelry. Even though I’m wearing a mesh t-shirt dress over a black tank dress, it makes me look elegant, like I’m the one in charge.

  “Thank you,” I say. It would probably be best for the pack to sell this necklace somewhere else, but I don’t think I could ever bear to part with it even though she just gave it to me.

  She runs a hand through my hair, lacing her fingers in before pulling my head back. Then, she leans down, her breasts pressed against my shoulders as she kisses me, our lips upside-down against each other.

  “I’m glad you like the necklace,” she breathes. Then, she saunters out of the room, leaving me horny and a little confused.

  I wait until the next day to go to the jeweler that Freya recommends, as it would probably be too suspicious for him to buy two pieces in one day. I chose a diamond bracelet, Which Kaja tells me to sell for a minimum of thirty-five hundred dollars. I hones
tly didn’t know you could even get that much money from a mall jewelry store.

  Anderson goes with me, standing quietly while I wait for Gustav to finish with another customer. I had to take my pearl necklace off in the car, but it’s sitting bunched up in my pocket. I don’t want to risk the jeweler recognizing it, after all.

  “Ah, how can I help you?” Gustav asks, his eyes warm as he opens his arms. The other customers are looking at diamond rings, but they seem to just be casually browsing for the moment.

  “Yes, actually,” I say, pulling out the box where I’m keeping the bracelet. “I was hoping you might be interested in buying this.”

  He frowns and nods, pulling out his little jeweler’s loop and inspecting the bracelet I pass him. “Lovely piece. Where did you get this?” he asks, his voice filled with curiosity.

  I shrug. “My great aunt recently passed. We’re trying to get rid of most of her stuff.”

  He nods and puts the loop away. “I see. I would be happy to offer you two thousand for this.”

  I frown. Freya said he might try to lowball me, so at least I’m prepared. “Not for seven and a half carats,” I say, reaching to grab the bracelet from his hands.

  He frowns. Apparently, he didn’t expect me to know what the thing is actually worth. “I can’t go higher than twenty-five hundred.” His voice is firm, but his eyes waver.

  Instead of replying, I cross my arms and wait. He looks at Anderson like he’s going to say something to him, but, out of the corner of my eye, Anderson gives the tiniest shake of his head.

  When he finally looks back at me, he says, “Thirty-six hundred.”

  I shrug. “Fine.” Then, I give him the most polite smile I can manage. I hand him my debit card, and he deposits the money. It’s so much easier than it would’ve been a decade ago. When it’s all finished, I take the receipt and say, “Thank you.”

  This puts us up over five thousand dollars. It’s a decent amount, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

  To save the building, we’ll have to do something far more drastic.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Thompson

  “You must be Thompson,” a woman says, and I nearly jump out of my own skin. I’m not sure where she came from, but there’s a human woman standing in the lobby of the apartment portion of the building, perhaps waiting for Eve to get home.

  There’s clearly no point in lying. If she knows my face out of the hundred or so that live here, I might as well confess. “That’s me,” I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. Anderson and Eve left hours ago to sell a single piece of jewelry, and the rest of it is still sitting in Kaja’s apartment waiting to find a new home.

  “I’m Detective Watson with St. Louis Police.” She shows me a badge. “Is your father around? I saw that he owns the building, and I’d like to speak with him about one of his tenants.”

  Oh.

  Oh shit.

  “I’m the building manager,” I lie. Is it a lie, though? I do some management stuff. I fixed the doorknob of the Garrisons’ apartment a few days ago. “I’d be happy to help you.”

  She smiles. “Is there somewhere private we might be able to speak? Your office, perhaps?”

  I can’t take her to Eve’s office. There’s incriminating paperwork all over the place.

  An idea pops in my head. “We can use the conference room. It’s not currently reserved.”

  She nods and follows me, and I lead her through the building. Please don’t let there be wolves in the courtyard. Most of the walk is through cramped hallways, but there’s one twenty-foot stretch that’s just huge glass walls that show right into the courtyard where people like to stretch their wolf legs.

  I hold my breath as we pass, but the few people out on this sweltering July day are all in their human forms.

  I open the door to the conference room, and the detective sits, folding her hands together. I sit a couple of seats down, not only to give her space, but myself as well.

  “What do apartments go for here?” she asks. “I’ve been looking at moving. My place is too small.”

  I shrug. “We’re full up right now. I can take your information and let you know if something becomes available, though.”

  She nods and hands me a card. “That would be great, although it’s not the reason I’m here. I was hoping to ask about Eve Pace.”

  My throat is suddenly dry as the desert, but I can’t betray my nerves by swallowing. “What do you want to know?”

  She clicks a few buttons on her phone, then hands it to me. There are photos, dozens of them. Eve at the gala, the green diamond ring in plain sight, as well as older photos of the ring on its own. There’s also a photo of Eve and Anderson at the jewelry store.

  Mother. Fucking. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

  “Is she in some kind of trouble? I can’t just let you into her apartment. You’ll need a warrant.” And I’ll need to clear out the stolen goods and guns before anyone goes in. There must be at least a few stolen antiquities there.

  She shakes her head. “I understand. I was more looking for information. Does this building have tenant storage? I assure you, I will be retrieving a warrant, but I want to cover every available avenue.”

  “No,” I say, at least this time able to be honest. Although Eve has her office filled with incriminating files and a basement full of stolen goods, there isn’t any sort of extra tenant storage for anyone here. “Sorry. Just the apartments.”

  “And what about her boyfriend? Anderson, is it?” God damn it. How the hell does this woman know so much?

  I shrug. “They live together. That’s pretty much all I know. If you come back with a warrant, I could let you into their apartment.” It’s a small enough space that we could clear it pretty fast. I stand up. “If you give me your badge number, that would help. I just need it for the building’s records.”

  She gives me a smile. “Of course.”

  After writing it on the back of her card, she thanks me, and I walk her back out to the lobby, waiting for her to exit before letting out my bated breath. The whole meeting took less than fifteen minutes, but when she exits the building, it’s like I’ve aged ten years.

  This is bad. This is all really, really bad.

  Chapter Twenty

  Eve

  The moment I get back to my apartment, Thompson debriefs me on the whole situation. How did neither Anderson nor myself notice a cop taking our picture at the mall? It couldn’t have been Detective Watson, as her scent is ingrained in my memory, but we still should have noticed someone else.

  “What are you going to do?” Anderson asks.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  Thompson is the next to speak. “We need to come up with a plan. Any ideas?”

  “I don’t know.” My breath is coming in shorter and shorter gasps, and the walls are closing in around me. I’m just throwing random shit in a duffel bag. It can go in the basement, or the Mississippi River, or anywhere but here. She’s gonna get a warrant to search my apartment. My mates are in danger.

  “Eve,” Thompson says, but I ignore him, double-checking the safety on my gun, and then checking it again because I don’t remember if the safety was on from a second and a half ago.

  “Eve,” Anderson says, a little more forceful than Thompson. I turn to look at him, but everything is a blur as my eyes sting. The door opens, and my heart drops to the floor, but Freya’s scent hits me before I allow myself to really panic. Why can’t I see?

  I wipe at my eyes, and my hands come away wet. That’s not possible, though. I haven’t cried in over thirteen years. I have no real reason to be crying right now. It must just be a fluke, a weird biological thing. I’m staring at my hand for so long that it goes blurry.

  “Eve,” Freya breathes. When did she get so close? Before I can reply, she folds me into her arms. Despite being shorter than me, she pulls my head down to her shoulder. “I need you to breathe, sweetheart.”

  At that command, I suck in a deep br
eath. And then another. And another. Wait. Am I hyperventilating?

  “You’re safe, Eve. She doesn’t actually have anything on you. You know that, right? If she did, she would have arrested you by now. She’s got nothing.”

  That’s not true, though. She has pictures of me wearing a stolen ring. She has pictures of me selling a bracelet made of stolen diamonds. She knows where I live. I should have done better, should have figured this all out a lot earlier. My father would be so disappointed if he could see me now.

  A sob rips from my chest, and I wrap my arms around my stomach, digging my nails into my waist.

  “I can’t,” I say. “I can’t do this.”

  Freya pets my head, and Anderson and Thompson join on my sides to pull my hands off my waist. The familiar feeling of wounds healing replaces my nails. Did I make myself bleed without realizing it?

  “We’re with you, Eve,” Thompson says. “We’re all with you.”

  I shake my head, trying desperately to get my breathing in check. They don’t understand. If they’re connected to me, I’m not the only one who will be put in prison.

  I have to run. I have to find a way to sell the jewelry, and then I can wire the money to the pack somehow. If I’m put in prison, it won’t be long before I’m seen in my wolf form. A single full moon will do it.

  “Eve,” Anderson says, his voice firm. I look to him, blinking the tears out of my eyes. “You are the strongest person I know, but right now, you aren’t thinking straight.”

  I press myself tighter to Freya, strongly considering pointing out that I never think ‘straight,’ but now isn’t the time, and I can’t bring myself to speak anyway.

  Anderson continues, “You want to do absolutely everything on your own. You sometimes let us help you, but even we aren’t as involved as we should be.”

  Why is he saying all this to me now?

  “You need to rely on the pack,” he says. “I know you have a hard time trusting people, but there are so many more that can help even if you aren’t personally close to them.”

 

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