Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

by Dannika Dark

  The guy’s face tightened, but no way would a Shifter take a swing while Jericho was holding an injured girl in his arms.

  As soon as he found a private spot in the field next to the parking lot, he gently laid her down in the soft grass. Isabelle needed to shift in order to heal that nasty bump on her head.

  Jericho softly stroked the nape of her neck and whispered, “Shift.”

  Hopefully her wolf was inside and paying attention. He remembered the old tricks—Isabelle always had a fondness for having the back of her neck touched. It was a technique her wolf also responded to, so he continued stroking and calling to her.

  Her eyes began to open, but before she looked up, Isabelle shifted in a fluid motion. He fell back when her wolf bared her teeth at him. She’d always been a badass bitch, but never to him.

  “Easy, Isabelle,” he soothed, scooting away and creating distance between them. “You hit your head and you’re confused.” Some Shifters remembered the first few seconds or even minutes into their shift, but she might have blacked out and let her animal spirit take over.

  Her wolf was smaller than most. Fur just as white as snow, and her feet were black, as if she’d run through a tar pit.

  “Come on, Isabelle. We’re in the middle of the goddamn city. Shift back.”

  He glanced over his shoulder when a horn blared. Headlights briefly shone on them before the sedan drove through the parking lot. When Jericho looked back, Isabelle was gone. Only a pile of clothes and her heels remained.

  “Isabelle!” he shouted, standing up and scanning the property. The city was no place for a wolf to be wandering. It was too easy to get hit by a car, shot, or taken in by animal control.

  “Fffuck.”

  He jumped when Denver slapped his arm around his shoulders and gave him a tight squeeze.

  “She ditched you again, huh?”

  He shrugged Denver off and faced him, stepping close and curling his lips. “What’s your deal with Isabelle?”

  “You mean Izzy, right? The name of your band. The name of the girl who left you overdosing in a hotel. You almost died,” Denver yelled, shoving Jericho in the chest. “You were lucky I only lived an hour away and they called me on time. It took me for-fucking-ever to get you to shift. You said some shit—”

  “What shit?” Jericho demanded, shoving at Denver’s chest. “I don’t remember saying a damn thing.”

  “No, because you’re Mr. Fucking Rockstar who can shoot up heroin and doesn’t need anyone. You were crying, Jericho. I went back to the hotel to find out what had happened. A maid said she went in to do housecleaning and found you facedown in your own vomit. That little redhead was digging in your back pocket and stealing money out of your wallet. She didn’t care if the maid saw her. She cleaned you out, stole your guitar, and left you there to die.”

  Jericho shook his head. “You’re full of it. That’s not what happened.”

  “You don’t even remember what happened. You’ve been living a lie. That girl is toxic, and I don’t want that poison seeping back into your life. Let her go. You’ll be lucky if Jake still wants you to come back after what you pulled tonight, but he’s not firing Izzy just because you two had a thing. So get your act together. I don’t like being the serious one around here. Life shouldn’t be that damn complicated,” he muttered, kicking up a clump of dirt and heading back to the bar.

  Denver was about as laid-back as they came. Jericho loved a good party, but Denver was the life of the party. It’s why he excelled at bartending; he was a born people person and knew how to make anyone smile. So Jericho didn’t like the serious turn this topic had taken. He respected his pack and didn’t want to break that bond. Family wasn’t about blood but who had your back. His brothers always had his back and vice versa. So they had learned to get over the petty shit and stay tight. He decided this wasn’t worth fighting over.

  Jericho lit up a cigarette and pinched it between his thumb and index finger, watching the smoke haze across his view of the quarter moon. He decided to shake it off and get his ass back onstage. Jericho had never been a quitter.

  But for the first time in his life, he felt like quitting something.

  Isabelle.

  No woman had ever made him feel so alive and capable of doing anything. She had seen the potential in him and pushed him into singing. Then one night she disappeared without a trace. All these years later, he thought some terrible fate had befallen Isabelle. Had he known she’d picked his pockets, stolen his guitar, and left him overdosing, he would have buried those sentimental feelings about her years ago.

  It was time to get out the proverbial shovel and bury those feelings once and for all.

  Chapter 4

  Waking up in a strange bed is disorienting enough, but nothing quite tops waking up naked in a vegetable garden.

  I bolted upright and wiped the dirt from my face, alert and soaking in my surroundings. I was lying in a tomato patch on the side of a house near an open gate. My wolf had dug up the dirt so that it made a soft bed to sleep on. Even worse was that I’d been snuggling with a rubber snake, no doubt placed there to scare away the birds.

  “Oh hell’s bells, Izzy,” I muttered under my breath, staring at the tall wooden fence beside me.

  The last thing I remembered was playing carnival ride on Handlebars. Now I had dirt in places that would require a carwash to get clean. My wolf was a dirt roller and would take a patch of Texas clay over a roll in the grass anytime. I hated her for it, and after this fiasco, we weren’t going to be on good terms.

  It was predawn and I needed to get my rear in gear before the lawn-mowing husbands came out in their black socks and sandals. I scurried to a small shed and peered inside. Unfortunately I didn’t find a full wardrobe, or at the very least, gardening attire.

  I used my long hair to cover my breasts, flattening it out strategically. Beside the shed door sat a large paper sack overflowing with empty plant containers. I turned it upside down, tore a hole in the bottom, stepped inside, and slowly shimmied the bag up my legs.

  “Please God, I’ll never eat another donut again,” I whispered, praying it would fit. Once I had the bag in place, I ran.

  Ran like a bride to the altar.

  “Oh my God, oh my God,” I sang, hurrying up the sidewalk. My hair blew away from my shoulders and I stopped, concealing my breasts again. It was the only time I’d ever been thankful for a modest cup size. I glanced at a familiar street sign and headed north. The bag made ripping noises that scared me enough to shorten my steps. Sunrise continued to push its way to the horizon, ready to give birth to a new day.

  With Howlers to my right, I crossed the street and kept jogging. There was no way in Hades I was going to show up at work half-naked and covered in dirt just to get my work clothes out of the locker. Those girls would never let me live this down.

  I heard another tear and slowed down again, trying to hold my hair in place. Maybe I could pull this off and just casually walk up the street with a grocery bag around my Bermuda Triangle. I’d seen women wearing less.

  “Chilly morning for a stroll.”

  I cringed at the familiar voice.

  After patting down my hair, I prepared to face the worst person I could have possibly run into while naked.

  “Hello, Jericho.”

  Sweet Jesus, did he look good. He leaned across the middle of a blue truck with the most indifferent look on his face. Maybe he seemed so attractive because of how coherent he was—not at all the man I remembered from years ago. Or maybe it was the way he styled his long hair so that it looked tangled, as if he’d just rolled out of bed. Could have been the silver rings and leather bracelet with the small spikes.

  Might have been the tattoo.

  It was most definitely his sea-green eyes. The ones that slid down the length of my filthy body until they settled on the paper bag that barely covered my coochie.

  “Thought you’d run off for good, Isabelle. You seem to have a knack for that,” he added.


  “Sorry, Jericho. I almost didn’t recognize you with your dick in your pants. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get home.”

  I tried to flounce off, but walking in short steps with a paper sack around my hips wasn’t a graceful way to make an exit.

  He rolled the truck beside me and the engine rumbled, but he didn’t say a word.

  So I walked a little faster.

  He drove a little faster.

  Finally, I broke into a run. Jericho hit the gas and kept up with me.

  “Get in the goddamn truck, Isabelle.”

  “No.”

  “You’re a female wolf running naked in the street. Get in.”

  “I’m not naked,” I panted. “I’m wearing recyclables.”

  Which suddenly ripped. I stopped and waved my hand behind me, feeling a cool breeze against my cheeks. I twisted the bag where it had torn and held it tightly to my hip.

  “Why bother? It’s not like I haven’t seen a naked woman before,” he said. “In fact, I’ve seen a whole lot of women.”

  “Jericho, you smug, arrogant—”

  “Horny,” he added with a bored wink.

  “I hate you.”

  “You still want to fuck me.”

  Exclamation points were appearing over my head. “Don’t flatter yourself. I may wear recyclables, but I don’t want to have sex with any.”

  He flinched. “Maybe no one will care if you’re half-naked since we’re on the Breed side of town, but I’m guessing it’s a long walk home.”

  I stared at my bare legs. Yep, this would certainly get me arrested by the human police. Shifters didn’t care about nudity so much. It was a little silly to be rehashing past drama like a couple of children on a street corner when I only had a veil of paper covering my feminine mystique.

  “Fine,” I conceded in a miserable voice, walking toward the door. “But you’re not allowed to say a word to me. All I want is a lift.”

  “Is that so?” he said in an annoyed voice, his left wrist draped over the steering wheel. He licked his lips and I tried not to notice, but the way his tongue swiped across them should have been against the law. “And why not?”

  “Because…”

  Because oh my God, after all these years, I still felt something for him. My traitorous heart leapt against my chest, despite the fact it still carried a scar. All those old feelings rushed back and there we were again, except there we weren’t. We were two different people, and I didn’t know who had changed for the better and who for the worse.

  “Finish what you were going to say.”

  I leaned in the window. “Because you were an insensitive friend,” I said in a somber tone.

  The doors locked and Jericho sat back in his seat, revving the engine.

  “Wait a minute, are you going to leave me here?” I exclaimed.

  “You got it, Sexybelle.”

  When he sped off, I chased after him. “You can’t leave me here!”

  He left me there.

  On the side of the road at dawn, wearing dirt and a torn paper sack. I finally felt like the trash Jericho had thrown away all those years ago.

  “Hey, sweetie! Want me to help carry your groceries?” a man razzed from his truck window.

  I gave him the finger and stormed across the street as he laughed and turned the corner.

  ***

  I gasped for air and sprang to my knees. “Don’t do that!” I shouted, feeling the residual sting on my rear from being slapped. My fingers gripped the sheets on our bed, and I blew out a hard breath.

  “Miss me, Iz?”

  I tore the covers away, a sheen of sweat covering my chest and the room feeling uncomfortably stuffy from the afternoon sunshine pouring through the windows. “Hawk? Where have you been? I tried calling you.”

  “Pack your bags.”

  “Huh?”

  He yanked a suitcase out of the closet and stuffed it with his boxer shorts and dress shirts. “We’re moving.”

  “Moving where? Wait a second. What’s going on? Some psycho has been following me around looking for you.”

  “Yeah, that’s why we’re moving. What’s with all the dirt on the kitchen floor and ripped-up paper?”

  I swung my legs over the bed and slipped on a T-shirt. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Not unless you tell me you’ve fixed whatever you messed up. I’ve always accepted you for who you are and haven’t interfered in your business affairs, but I’m not about to get mixed up with someone who has lunatic humans chasing after him. This isn’t the life I want.”

  “I don’t give a shit what kind of life you want, Izzy. This is the life you get. So quit looking a gift horse in the mouth,” he said, backing me up to the wall. “You need to get it in that thick head of yours that life isn’t about good times and getting what you want.”

  “Oh?” I said, doing one of those neck swivels that I’d only seen women on TV do. “And what is all this?” I waved my arms around the room. “A two-thousand-dollar sofa, Hawk. That’s insane! And what about the boat you never take to the lake, or the trips to the casino where you come back with a hangover and empty pockets? What about your fancy suits—”

  “Really, Izzy? You want to bring up my suits when you dress like a hooker?”

  I slapped him. I’d never slapped a man before, but Hawk brought out something venomous in me I didn’t like.

  Neither did he.

  Hawk wrapped his fingers around my wrist and gripped my neck with his right hand, squeezing hard. “Don’t ever do that again. I take good care of you, Izzy. I’m only saying you need to appreciate it, but it always feels like you’re holding out for something better. There is no better. I’m the best you’ve got and the best you’ll ever get. Maybe it’s time you show me some due respect.”

  I fought hard to keep my snarling wolf at bay. The only way I could protect her from getting hurt by a pissed-off Shifter was to stay calm. “Let go of me.”

  He laughed and released his hold.

  “Take it back, Hawk. You know I’m a good girl. Maybe I work as a waitress, and maybe I like wearing shorts instead of gowns, but that doesn’t make me a whore. And the last thing I want is to sleep with a man who sees me as nothing more than a streetwalker. So take it back.”

  He shook his head. “Fine. I take it back. Now pack your shit.”

  “No, thanks.” I marched toward the bathroom with attitude in my swing.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not about to become an outlaw. I have nothing to do with whatever you’re involved in, but if I start running with you, then that makes me look just as guilty. I’ll pack my things and leave, but I’m not leaving with you.”

  “And where are you going to go?” He followed behind and joined me in the bathroom.

  I squeezed a dollop of toothpaste on my red toothbrush and began giving my molars a vigorous scrub. “You’re talking to a girl who has traveled through thirty-four states, hitchhiked with the best of them, and has always found a way to make it on my own. Do you think sleeping under a bridge scares me? Think again. I’ll do whatever it takes to survive in this world because I’m a fighter.”

  He swept my hair away from my neck and rested his chin on my shoulder. “You’re too damn foxy to be living in a city full of Shifters without a pack. I can offer you the protection you crave and all the freedom you want. If someone gets wind that you’re a wolf…”

  “They won’t.” I shuddered, because his words seemed like more of a threat than a statement.

  “But if they do, then you’ll become nothing more than a pack bitch. When was the last time you were in heat?”

  I shrugged him away and spit in the sink. “Don’t ask me something that personal, Hawk. We haven’t been dating that long, and I have no intention of mating with you.”

  Going into heat meant hiding out for a few days, if not longer. Being aroused for that length of time was exhausting. Heat was the female’s body screaming to reproduce, and males responded. They could scent
a bitch in heat, and male instinct kicked in to sate her animalistic needs. It helped having a boyfriend who could detect it a couple of days before I could. Then I’d make reservations at a motel to ride it out. I’d never been with another man during my cycle because it almost guaranteed pregnancy. I’d heard rumors about how exquisite sex was during heat, and some women said it shortened the time they had to endure it. Good for them, but I didn’t want babies with a man I didn’t intend to mate with.

  “You might change your mind,” he murmured softly. Sweetly. “I’ve got a lot to offer a woman, Iz, and you’re not getting any younger.”

  I wiped my mouth and snatched my hairbrush. “Straighten out your life, Hawk. Then we’ll talk. Maybe.”

  “As long as I’ve got someone after me, they’re after you. I can’t afford to have something happen to you.”

  “Then fix your problems.”

  I squeezed around him and grabbed my duffel bag from beneath the bed. I bent over and he gently held my hips, rubbing them methodically. “How about a going-away present?”

  “Not in the mood.” I found my favorite pair of sandals and stuffed them in the bag, shaking my ass to loosen his grip.

  Never shake your ass at a wolf.

  He pulled up my T-shirt in the back and cupped his hand over my sex, insisting I stay for a few extra minutes. Admittedly, it felt good. Hawk never lasted long in the sack, but he knew how to get things heated up. Every lover I’d known had flaws—none had ever kept my engine roaring from beginning to end. Some finished the race early, some never finished, and others wanted me to spend too much time shifting his stick. Maybe perfect sex was only a fantasy—embellished stories conjured up by mated women who had exceeded their limit on tequila.

  Hawk kept working his hands. “Come on, Iz. I’ve got something that’ll make you change your mind.”

  “I’m not in the mood,” I reiterated, turning around to face him. My fingers splayed across his chest, and I locked eyes with him. “I can’t do this.”

  “You weren’t too good for it before.”

  “That’s before I knew this was about drugs. I had a feeling you were doing illegal stuff, but honestly I thought you were a loan shark or organizing poker games in a basement somewhere. Drugs change the game. I’ve seen what it does to people firsthand, and I can’t sit back watching you deal it to them.”