And Jericho Burned: Toke Lobo & The Pack

by MJ Compton

  “Right now, she chose me because I’m the least evil of all her choices.” He hated admitting that, even to his alpha. “That’s not enough for me, Toke. I want to be the best thing that ever happens to her.”

  Lucy replaced the motel’s old-fashioned telephone receiver in its cradle. Suppressed anger cramped her hand and arm.

  Lawyers had pre-printed forms for just about everything. Fill-in-the-blank then charge the client a fortune. So why didn’t they have prenuptial agreements by the pad?

  An engagement ring, a hastily concocted story, and a marriage license wouldn’t prevent Randy from performing one of his bogus rituals to join her with Bill Danby. The only solution was to return to New Sinai already married. And until she had Stoker’s paw print on a prenuptial, it wasn’t going to happen.

  She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her lawyer had said it might be as long as a week before he could get an agreement drawn up, and then only if Stoker co-operated in revealing his assets. As if a back-up singer-piano player in a country music band even had assets.

  Then her lawyer offered to run a background check on Stoker. As if he’d find something. Stoker was a werewolf and an ATF agent. Either of those attributes would not only turn up nothing, but would also raise flags throughout the spy world. Just what she needed.

  How did she land in these messes?

  Money was a jerk-magnet. Lucy had learned that fact the hard way. She should have taken steps to protect her inheritance after she’d walked in on Charles-the-Fink and his bimbo secretary. But had she? She was as dumb as a blond joke.

  She inhaled deeply. Options. She had to examine her options by goal. First and foremost: get Michelle off the mountain and away from Randy.

  The solution nipped her like a famished mosquito.

  Until last night, she hadn’t realized the extent of Michelle’s peril or Randy’s desperation. Now that she knew how badly New Sinai needed a treasury, she had a bargaining chip. And, she could test the legitimacy of Stoker’s sudden devotion to her at the same time.

  She picked up the phone and once again dialed her lawyer.

  Stoker found Hank leaning on a support post under the room he shared with Lucy. “Well?”

  Hank shrugged. “She’s used the phone a couple of times. Talked to a lawyer. I missed some of it because of traffic.” He dipped his head toward the busy highway, where eighteen-wheelers, pick-up trucks, and decades-old cars with bad exhaust systems ignored the posted speed limit.

  “So why didn’t you listen outside the door?” Stoker asked. Hank had the best ears in the pack, no question, but extraneous sound was white noise.

  “I didn’t want her to look out the window and see me,” Hank explained. “You offered her privacy then turned yourself into a liar by asking me to eavesdrop.”

  Stoker didn’t like the guilt, but accepted it. Lucy was turning him inside out in more ways than one. Having Hank spy on her wasn’t only morally wrong, it smacked of not trusting her. What kind of werewolf took a mate he couldn’t trust?

  “Don’t look now,” Hank murmured, “but Lucy’s got company.”

  A blue pick-up truck, doors dinged by what looked like bullet holes, pulled into the parking lot. Gravel crunched beneath worn tires. Exhaust belched from a rusted stump of pipe.

  Stoker and Hank stepped into the deep shadows formed by the recessed motel doors. “That truck has been driving by here all morning,” Hank said.

  Two men climbed out of the truck. Stoker recognized the scent immediately: Bill Danby, freed by Restin’s interference and come to harass Lucy. He didn’t recognize the second man, but he knew the chill wrapping around his spine.

  Evil.

  The stench of moral decay clung to the man’s small frame like flies on scat.

  Randy Butler. The demon could be no one else.

  Danby’s face was puffed and bruised from their discussion of the previous evening. He couldn’t walk without wincing, a sight which satisfied Stoker.

  The men strode directly to the staircase leading to Stoker and Lucy’s room, which caused Stoker to wonder if her business included a call to New Sinai. Whatever it was, it had to be important if Butler himself was willing to risk leaving New Sinai.

  He started after them, but Hank put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Go around back. I’ll cover it from here.”

  As much as he longed to maul Danby, Hank was right.

  He loped around the back of the building, and, using the bars covering the first floor windows, he climbed to their room.

  The heavy fist battering the door startled Lucy. Something told her Stoker wouldn’t bother to knock at his own room. That meant Restin was checking on her, probably to complain that she hadn’t turned her personal business over to him to handle. Well, Mr. Restin Whatever had a couple of things to learn about Lucy Callahan, lessons she’d be all too happy to teach.

  “Lucy! Open the damned door.”

  Her heart wedged in her throat. Oh, if only it were Restin behind the hammering. If only anyone else were outside her door. Anyone besides Randy Butler.

  Indecision paralyzed her. She couldn’t face the reality of New Sinai. Not yet.

  “Go away,” Stoker growled.

  Lucy yelped and spun to find him standing behind her.

  “How did you–?”

  Stoker hushed her with a finger placed across her lips.

  “Lucy, I’m warning you. Don’t make me break down the door.” Randy sounded calm, which meant he was furious.

  “I said go away,” Stoker repeated. He went to the door.

  Randy’s fury might take the guise of icy control, but the expression on Stoker’s face terrified her. He motioned her to stand at the far side of the bed.

  Not having a better plan, Lucy complied.

  Stoker opened the door as Bill Danby launched himself, shoulder first, into the panel. Bill tripped over Stoker’s outstretched leg and fell to the floor with a loud oomph.

  Idiot.

  “You again,” Stoker said, sounding bored. A murderous sneer belied the tone of his voice.

  Randy stepped across the threshold, followed closely by Blond Mustache. Hank, if Lucy recalled correctly.

  Bill slowly climbed to his feet, grimacing and grunting like an animal. He tugged his camouflage T-shirt over his belly.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Randy asked. His hazel eyes focused on her with a glare that would have had her heart stuttering twenty-four hours ago.

  Twenty-four hours ago, she didn’t have a werewolf on her side. “I’m staying with my fiancé,” she said, plunging into the cover story Restin had concocted for her by twisting facts.

  “Your fiancé? But you had Bill arrested last night.”

  She shook her head. “Your soldiers got into a brawl with my fiancé. Stoker and I have been seeing each other for a while. We got engaged last night.”

  Randy studied her. “I had no idea you were in any kind of relationship since the unfortunate events of several years ago.”

  Lucy winced and cursed her sister’s big mouth.

  “Why should you?” Stoker practically bristled. He stood between the intruders and the beds.

  “You’re marrying me,” Bill said.

  “Sorry. I’m engaged to Stoker.” She started to hold up her hand to show off her ring, but remembered she’d removed the transmitter before making her phone calls. The ring was safely wrapped in a sound-muffling towel in the bathroom.

  “He’s a piano player, for crying out loud. I’m a soldier.”

  Lucy ignored the insult, and concentrated on improvising. “We’ve set a date. Tomorrow, if the weather holds. Noon. I want Michelle to stand up for me.”

  Randy’s already thin lips nearly disappeared. “She’s not leaving
New Sinai.”

  “Then we’ll get married there.” She smiled at Stoker, hoping he’d pick up her cue. “Let’s bring the band, honey. They can play at our reception.”

  Randy sneezed, then said: “I don’t think so.”

  She swallowed another lump of terror and prayed her voice wouldn’t tremble as she tried to tough it out. “I just said I’m marrying Stoker tomorrow. I just said I want my sister to stand up for me. If she can’t come here, we’ll be there around noon.”

  “The only wedding happening is yours and mine,” Bill said.

  “I’d rather be dead,” Lucy kept her gaze on Randy.

  “That can be arranged,” Bill said.

  She believed him. Oh God, she was going to be sick.

  “Last night wasn’t enough for you?” Stoker asked Bill, as he stepped toward him. “Would you like to finish it right now?”

  “Lucy.” Randy’s tone was sharp. “Your sister needs you, or have you forgotten why you were invited to New Sinai?”

  Lucy said the first words that popped into her brain. “So you could marry me off to Bill and take charge of my finances?”

  Uh-oh. That wasn’t very smart.

  “Why wouldn’t I want to see my sister-in-law settled?”

  “She’s settled,” Stoker said. “With me. End of discussion.”

  “Maybe I don’t think my sister-in-law would be best served by marrying a piano player.”

  “Maybe who your sister-in-law marries isn’t any of your damned business.” Stoker’s tone held a spectrum of threat.

  “We’re not finished,” Bill said, squinting at her. “The General said I could marry you, and I will.”

  “You shouldn’t rush into anything, Lucy,” Randy said, sounding almost conciliatory.

  She wasn’t buying it for a second. “I’m not.”

  She wished she’d realized sooner that lying was so easy and got easier with each falsehood. She almost believed herself.

  “Stoker and I were just leaving to get our license. We’ll see you at New Sinai, tomorrow at noon. Tell Michelle to wear something pretty.”

  “I forbid you to marry this man,” Randy said.

  “I don’t recognize your authority,” she replied. Anger started to replace her fear.

  “Your sister does.”

  Lucy froze. Scratch the anger.

  “Think about your sister before you do anything rash.” Randy motioned to Bill. “Lieutenant, I’m ready to leave.”

  Hank stepped away from the door to let them pass.

  Bill didn’t move. “You’d better hope I’m in a forgiving mood on our wedding night.”

  “Get out,” Stoker said, “before I kill you.”

  Hank closed the door behind the departing men with a soft snick then pressed his ear against the panel. A moment later, he nodded. “They’re gone.”

  Lucy collapsed on the bed in a puddle of nerves. “He’s going to do something to Michelle.” She looked at Stoker. She tried to inhale, but panic compressed her lungs. “I should have known when Michelle invited me.”

  Stoker knelt next to her and pulled her into his arms. “Why should you have suspected anything?”

  “Michelle wrote and told me not to bring Eleanor, because Randy is allergic to cats.”

  “I don’t understand,” Stoker said.

  “I don’t have a cat,” she replied.

  “Does she know that?”

  “And Eleanor was the warning word my mother used when my father was about to . . . be difficult.” She inhaled deeply. “Help me. Please. You promised you’d help me.” She clutched his shirt in her fists as she buried her face against his chest.

  Stoker patted her back and crooned comforting sounds.

  Randy would have abducted her if Stoker hadn’t shown up when he did. Kidnapped her, and . . .

  “This ought to be interesting,” Hank said. He crossed his arms and leaned against the closed door. “Restin will be happy.”

  “What do you mean?” Stoker’s chest vibrated against Lucy’s cheek as he spoke.

  “Lucy promised Butler she’d return to New Sinai tomorrow at noon.”

  Panic roiled and burned from her stomach to her throat.

  “Right,” Stoker said. “A legitimate reason for us to show up.” He took a deep breath. “Lucy, are you ready to get married?” His broad palm stroked her back.

  He couldn’t be serious. Randy would never let them have a ceremony inside his walls.

  “We’ll go into town this afternoon, get a license, find a judge, and do it,” Stoker continued, as if reading her mind.

  That made more sense. Except she still didn’t have a prenuptial agreement with Stoker, and legal documents such as licenses and permits had never stopped Randy in the past.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she confessed in a hoarse whisper. “What if he uses my . . . my disobedience as an excuse to hurt Michelle?”

  “I won’t let him hurt either of you,” Stoker murmured against the top of her head. His warm breath thawed some of the chill of Randy’s threat.

  She wanted to believe him. “How can you stop him?”

  “Trust me, Lucy. You need to trust me.”

  She didn’t know how to trust. Experience had driven the ability from her repertoire.

  “Once we mate, you’ll have the entire pack protecting you.”

  That was wonderful, but no matter what she did, Randy would find a way to hurt Michelle. He’d call it punishment, but it would be retribution.

  She hated that her sister was the price of saving herself.

  “I don’t want you to marry me for the wrong reasons,” he said, his mouth leaving her scalp to nuzzle her ear. “Do you know what the right reason is?”

  Lucy shook her head, clueless as to what he wanted from her. She couldn’t think about prenuptials and werewolves when Michelle was in danger, and she couldn’t think about Michelle while Stoker was distracting her with sex and talk of marriage.

  “Forever, Lucy. We marry forever.”

  Stoker opened the door of Hank’s rental pick-up truck for Lucy then cupped her delectable bottom to boost her into the cab. His palms tingled where he touched her.

  Soon, he thought.

  Part of him felt like thanking Randy Butler for driving Lucy deeper into his protection. At this rate, they’d be mated much sooner than anyone but Stoker wanted.

  “Sit next to me.” He buckled his seatbelt.

  Lucy clung to the passenger door as if it could save her.

  “I won’t bite you.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “Yet.” He grinned, trying to get her to relax. If she walked into the courthouse looking as if she expected to die at any moment, the bureaucrats might not issue them a license. Then he’d have to depend on Restin to push things along, maybe by going through Mitchell Jasper, and Stoker wanted Restin, Jasper, and anything else to do with the treaty as far away from his mating as he could keep them.

  He started the engine and waited for her to slide across the bench seat to his side.

  “Won’t you be distracted if I sit next to you?” she finally asked, as if realizing they weren’t leaving until she moved.

  “Not as much as if I’m worrying you’ll jump out of the truck at the next traffic light.”

  She inhaled deeply, her chest shuddering with the effort.

  That hurt.

  He was good enough for her to cling to while Bill Danby and Randy Butler tossed down threats like open wounds shed blood, but not good enough for sitting thigh-to-thigh on their way to purchase a marriage license.

  Yup, it hurt.

  “I could toss you over my shoulder and run into town,” he offered. “Like last night.”

&nb
sp; She unlatched her seat belt and slid closer to him.

  Lucy’s problem, he decided, was she had too many choices.

  He waited while she dug into the upholstery for the middle seat belt. If he touched her right now, they wouldn’t make it to the courthouse.