by Lori Drake
Joey frowned. “How many people have you lost, Abby?”
Abby flinched and looked away. “Seven, counting Gina.”
“And in all that time, you never caught up to him? How do you even know it’s a him?”
Abby shrugged. “Usually is.” She took another drag. “We tried, Joey. I swear we did. There’s nothing more that I want than to nail that son of a bitch’s balls to the floor, but he’s a goddamn ghost.”
Sam had said much the same in the wake of their unsuccessful tracking efforts two nights ago. Joey grimaced. The whole affair left a sour taste in her mouth, and she didn’t mind casting blame where it was due. “So you what… thought you’d bring him to an all-you-can-slay buffet?”
Abby shot her a glare. “Of course not. It’s been over a month since the last attack. I thought we’d finally shaken him.”
“Well, you thought wrong.” Joey glared right back, getting pissed all over again. Maybe she shouldn’t blame Abby for being optimistic, but she sure as shit could blame her for hiding the truth after Gina’s death. A pack matter, indeed. “Well, like it or not, we’re in this together now. Pack your shit and round up your girls. You can follow us back to our place.”
Abby lifted a gray brow. “Is that an order?”
“If necessary.” Joey let her arms drop to her sides, giving Abby a moment’s study before heading for the door. As far as she was concerned, the matter was settled.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Abby said, though her tone was more appreciative than caustic.
“Thanks. I’ll see you downstairs.”
“Hold up a minute.”
Joey stopped to tug on the door handle, popping the other side of it free from where it’d punctured the ancient drywall. She looked back at Abby.
Abby pushed off the wall and flicked ash from her cigarette into the ashtray by the bed. “You’re strong, too. Real strong.”
“Are you working around to a point?”
“Impatient, too. But that’s beside the point. You know how that saying goes, ‘When all you’ve got is a hammer, everything looks like a nail’?”
Joey nodded, suppressing a retort by pressing her lips firmly together.
“You said the other night that you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. But you’ve got the right instincts. Instinct will get you far, but if you want to avoid smacking your thumb with that hammer over and over along the way… I can help.”
A snort escaped Joey’s control. “Uh, no offense, but—”
“I know. Keeping you out of the loop was the wrong call. I see that now, and you being willing to call me on it… no one’s done that for a while. Maybe we can help each other out.”
Joey lingered in the doorway, eyeing Abby uncertainly. “How so?”
“Once we deal with this hunter problem and lay Adelaide to rest… ride with us. I’ll make you my right hand, teach you the things your momma didn’t get a chance to.”
Joey stared, uncertain if she’d heard that properly. “You want me to be your second?”
Abby nodded.
“Yeah, no. Thanks, but no.” Joey shook her head. If the offer had come before this shitstorm started blowing, she might’ve been tempted. Maybe. But as things stood, she wasn’t sure Abby had anything to teach her that she wanted to learn. The way she’d handled the situation with the hunter really stuck in Joey’s craw.
“Think about it, and let me know if you change your mind. Consider it an open offer.”
Joey shook her head again and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her—for all the good it did, considering it wouldn’t latch anymore. Sam and Laura were where she’d left them at the top of the stairs. Joey wondered how much of the conversation they’d overheard as she approached, but Sam’s expression gave nothing away and Laura kept her eyes lowered.
“What’s the verdict?” Sam asked.
“We’re going to have to make room for five more at the house.”
Laura lifted her eyes briefly, and Joey gave her a nod that sent her darting for the other room her pack occupied.
Joey motioned for Sam to join her as she started down the stairs again. “She confirmed what Laura told us. The hunter’s been hounding them for six months, but she claims they hadn’t seen any action in a month, so she thought they’d finally shaken him.”
Sam grunted. “Do you believe her?”
“For now. I’m trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, for Mom’s sake.” Joey fished her phone out of her pocket and sent a quick message to Jon with an updated head count.
Sam offered her the keys as they approached the car, but she waved them off and leaned against the front fender to wait for the Gray River wolves to saddle up. Her eyes roamed the area, keeping watch, but her mind kept returning to the inevitable question…
Now what?
8
It was almost noon when Chris and Lucas pulled up outside the Grant house. The house looked the same as it had when Chris had left early that morning, aside from the delivery van out front. He’d half expected it to be visibly bursting at the seams with all their houseguests. While Lucas pulled the car off to one side of the house to park with the other cars, Chris watched the delivery driver and his assistant unload large boxes under Jon’s supervision.
It had been a quiet, tense drive from town. Lucas was clearly annoyed over being shut out, and he hadn’t made so much as a token attempt at small talk since then. Instead, they’d driven in silence broken only by the quiet music from the car stereo. Climbing out of the car was a relief, even if the rain had picked up again. Chris dashed for the front door with Lucas on his heels and ducked under Jon’s giant golf umbrella. Lucas didn’t stop, just continued up the front steps, two at a time, and vanished into the house.
Jon turned his head to follow Lucas’s path, then looked at Chris. “Something wrong?”
“Can’t get into it right now. Is Joey back yet?”
“No, but I got a text from her about twenty minutes ago. She’s bringing Abby and her people back with her.”
Chris nodded. He’d heard from her too, and it felt good to be in the loop. “What’s the mood inside?”
“Antsy. They organized their own room assignments, for the most part, so they can’t bitch about that, at least.”
Chris chuckled, watching as the deliverymen carried another rain-spotted box past them and into the house. “What’s all this?”
“Sara thought foldaway beds would be more comfortable than cots, so we picked up a few dozen of those, plus bedding. We can’t cram quite as many in per room, but we’ll make it work.”
“Smart. Good thing we keep her around, eh?” Chris smiled.
“Very. She’s organizing breakfast for a small army now.”
The very mention of breakfast made Chris’s stomach rumble, and he groaned at the thought of thirty-plus hangry houseguests. “Shit, I didn’t even think about that. I’ll go see if there’s anything I can help with. You’ve got this under control, right?”
Jon nodded, and Chris clapped him on the shoulder before ducking out from under the umbrella and dashing up the steps into the house. The foyer bustled with activity as Ben directed the deliverymen to various parts of the house. He held a sheet of paper in one hand, upon which he was scratching something off with a pen.
“Hey, I’ve got the stuff for the thing,” Chris said, intentionally cryptic as he passed the syringe off discreetly.
“Thanks,” Ben said. “I’ll take care of it as soon as the truck’s unloaded.”
“What are you going to do with it, anyway?”
Ben smiled and shrugged. “I know a guy.”
“You know what, forget I asked. Let me know what comes of it.” Chris headed for the kitchen, trusting his brother to take care of it.
He caught a whiff of breakfast cooking before he even got to the kitchen, which set off another rumble in his stomach.
“Jessica, would you grab that big basket from the top shelf over there? We can use it
for the biscuits,” Sara said, as Chris entered the Grants’ expansive, well-appointed kitchen.
The room was filled with delicious aromas, one of which Chris recognized instantly. “Mmm, biscuits. I hope that means there’s gravy.”
At the stove, Sara started and spun toward him, spattering the splash guard with béchamel.
Chris held up his hands. “Whoa there! I come in peace.”
Sara laughed and quickly resumed stirring. “Of course there is. It’s just taking time to make enough.”
“I told her we could just do eggs and toast,” Jessica said, rising on her tiptoes to fetch the basket while petite Jenny stood patiently, holding a sheet pan full of browned, buttery biscuits in each hand.
“Not on my watch,” Sara muttered, but not quietly enough to escape sharp wolf ears. The Southern hospitality instinct was strong in her. It was one reason why she’d gotten along so well with his mother.
Chris chuckled and rolled up his sleeves. “How can I help?”
“We’ve got everything under control,” Sara said. “Sit down and we’ll make you up a plate. You probably won’t get a chance to eat otherwise.”
Chris looked around the room, but had to admit they had everything taken care of. He slid onto a stool with a resigned sigh and watched while Jenny and Jessica took up the biscuits. Realizing Jenny’s ever-present shadow was missing, he asked, “Where’s Itsuo?”
“Moving furniture and assembling beds with Justin and Colt,” Jessica replied, folding in the ends of the linen cloth lining the basket to cover the big pile of steaming biscuits. “Get a plate started for the Alpha, eh?” she added, nudging Jenny with an elbow. The younger wolf scurried to obey.
“I should help them.” Chris slid off the stool, but he barely had one foot on the ground when Jessica stopped him with a look. “Or maybe I’ll eat first.” It wasn’t like he really wanted to delay breakfast further. If he’d really been determined, she wouldn’t have been able to stop him.
Moments later, a plate piled high with biscuits smothered in sausage gravy, eggs, and fried potatoes was placed in front of him. He smiled at Jenny when she flicked a brief glance up at him. She smiled back but hastily lowered her eyes and backed away a step before spinning to go back to work.
Chris dug in while the ladies worked, trying not to think about how sexist it was for the three of them to be working in the kitchen while the menfolk were busy elsewhere. Though, now that he thought about it, there were still two of his people unaccounted for. “Where are the twins?”
“Adam’s working on the security hack,” Jessica replied. “Lucy’s helping with logistics.”
“Logistics?” Chris wondered what was left to do.
“She’s entertaining the guests,” Jessica said.
Images flashed through Chris’s mind. Lucy was an entertainer by trade, but her specialty wasn’t exactly appropriate for mixed company. “Not on a pole, I assume.”
Jenny giggled, and Jessica smirked and answered dryly, “Strictly lap dances.”
Chris chuckled and went back to eating while the ladies transferred the rest of the food to the leftover buffet trays from the previous night’s reception. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about how to keep it warm, even if they’d probably have to pay the caterer extra when they weren’t ready for pickup on schedule.
He was about halfway through his plate when the kitchen door swung open and Joey strode into the room. The knot between his shoulders eased at the sight of her, but her grim expression prevented the tension from sliding away completely.
Joey walked straight over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He put down his fork and wrapped an arm around her, bending to press a kiss into her hair. “Hey, welcome back. Hungry?”
“Starving.”
Chris met Sara’s eyes briefly, and she began making up another plate. Joey all but clung to him. He rubbed her back and tipped her chin up. “What’s wrong?”
She gave her head a small shake and darted her eyes toward the others in a meaningful fashion. Clearly, she didn’t want to talk about it in front of them, so he nodded and waited while Sara set a fresh plate down beside his and Joey withdrew to climb up onto the stool next to his and tuck into her own breakfast.
Chris toyed with his food while he waited for the room to clear out, but it was only a few minutes before Jessica, Jenny, and Sara left with the last of the food.
“Be sure you guys find time to eat too, okay?” he called after them. “And make sure everyone else does too.”
“Will do, boss!” Jessica called back, as the door swung gently behind her.
Despite the fact that he still had some on his own plate, Chris reached over and speared a potato cube from Joey’s plate on the tines of his fork in a shameless bid for her attention. “Now can we talk?”
Joey sighed and slammed her fork down on the granite countertop. “It’s a fucking hunter.”
“How do you know?”
“He’s been following Abby’s pack for months.” Her voice was tight, and he could understand why. “She swears she thought they’d shaken him before they came here, but dammit… she didn’t say a thing about it after Gina was killed.”
Chris set down his fork a little more gently and slipped an arm around her, doing his best to remain calm. But his heart was racing. “That’s bad.”
She laughed, a dry bark without any real humor. “You can say that again.” She rubbed her face and sighed, then picked up her fork again and resumed eating with the single-minded determination of a woman who wasn’t sure when she’d get another chance.
Chris watched her in profile, willing his stomach to stop twisting into knots. What he’d already eaten weighed heavily there all of a sudden. A hunter. An actual hunter, in their territory. He did his best to keep his worry to himself. He wanted to be strong for her, but all he could think of to say was: “Now what?”
Joey shook her head. “Damned if I know. I’m running without a playbook here. Sam says it’s a good thing we decided to bring everyone here, that our security upgrades will help.”
“We’ve got to tell them, don’t we? Everyone.”
Joey’s fork paused in front of her lips, laden with fluffy, gravy-smeared eggs. “Yeah. Is it bad that I hope it makes them all leave town early?”
“That makes two of us, either way. But it’s wishful thinking. A few might, but I suspect most will stick around. There are only forty-eight hours left until the funeral.”
“Can we move it up?”
“Probably, but a cemetery is a nightmare from a security perspective. Everyone out in the open like that…”
“So we skip the graveside service and do something at the house. Today, if possible. Then they can all leave, and we can deal with this.”
Chris closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on to go with his roiling stomach. “No, I don’t— I can’t—”
“What?” Joey put her fork down again and turned toward him until her knees bumped against his leg. She cupped his cheek. “Talk to me.”
Chris took a moment to collect his thoughts, then opened his eyes. “We only get one shot at this. Burying Mom. We owe it to her to do it right.”
“She wouldn’t want us to get ourselves killed doing it.” Her eyes searched his.
“I know. But if we have to delay it… I think she’d understand.”
“You want them to stay longer?”
“No, not necessarily. I just don’t want anyone else to die. Especially not on our watch. You said it yourself. This is how pack wars start.”
Joey studied him for a moment. “We could cancel the funeral, send everyone home, and have a family-only event after we deal with the hunter.”
He smiled weakly. “I don’t think that qualifies as doing it right.”
Joey sighed, and her hand fell away. He caught it in his and held it to his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not trying to be difficult.”
“
Then tell me what you want to do,” she said, but she was starting to sound a bit testy.
“The way I see it, we have forty-eight hours to find this guy before we have to postpone the funeral. Why don’t we focus on that for now?”
She didn’t answer right away. He could practically see the gears turning behind her pretty brown eyes, and he rubbed the back of her hand lightly.
“Okay,” she said. “But we still have to tell them. Full disclosure, and anyone that decides to leave is allowed to do so.”
“Wouldn’t dream of stopping them. Hell, I’ll drive them to the airport myself.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, then released it so she could turn back to her plate. As she resumed eating, he pushed his food around on his plate, wishing he had any appetite remaining for Sara’s amazing spread.
Giving up, he stood and collected his plate. “Pack meeting before we face the firing squad?”
“Good idea,” Joey said around a mouthful of food. She was really packing it in this morning, a behavior usually reserved for replenishing energy after shapeshifting. But he knew she hadn’t been doing that on account of her stitches. Then again, it was nearly noon, and he’d be surprised if she’d eaten much of anything the previous evening.
“I’ll round everyone up. Study in ten?”
“Sounds good. Love you.”
Chris never got tired of hearing that. He leaned over and stole a quick kiss while she was between bites. “Try to restrain yourself from licking the plate.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes, opening her mouth as if to fire back a retort but pausing as she caught sight of the food left on his plate. “You’re not gonna finish that?”