His Wolf (Wolf of My Heart)

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His Wolf (Wolf of My Heart) Page 10

by Linda Palmer


  He squirmed a little. “And this wolf guy loves you back?”

  “You tell me.” I pushed my plate aside and leaned forward a little, breathlessly waiting for his reply.

  Erik leaned forward, too, and touched my cheek. “If there was such a thing as a life mate—and I seriously doubt there is—you would be first on my list of candidates.”

  “So forever is hard for you believe?”

  “Let’s just say the concept feels more like someone’s wishful thinking than anyone’s actual reality. I’m sure my parents’ multiple marriages have something to do with it, though I’m not blaming them. I’ve had my share of girlfriends that didn’t work out.”

  I couldn’t hold back my sigh. “Death-do-us-part commitment is a little hard to imagine, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Tricky for wolves; impossible for humans, at least in my experience. So while I’m pretty sure you’re kidding about finding your wolf-slash-human forever-after mate, I appreciate your plugging me into the role even as a joke.”

  So he thought I’d been teasing him. Taking the exit he’d so gallantly offered me, I pretended I had been kidding. “Just trying to keep things light. Though it might make us both feel better about our chemistry, and don’t you dare deny we have some.”

  “I wouldn’t. I can’t. We’ve got some all right, which is probably why I can’t keep my hands to myself.”

  I patted myself down as if feeling for the roving hands that were not on my body. “What are you talking about? There are no boy hands on this girl.”

  “That’s because you’re sitting there, and I’m sitting here.”

  I practically crawled across the table to kiss him.

  He returned the kiss, but then slid his chair back to stand. “Now that we’re on the same page, we really don’t have to rush things.”

  I plopped back into my chair. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means we both understand that what we’re feeling is mutual. And since it is, we’re okay to fully experience each new emotional stage as we possibly progress toward—”

  Wordy much? “Sex?”

  He gave me a look. “You seem to have a one-track mind.”

  “I’m a girl who knows what she wants.”

  “A trait I normally appreciate. Right now, however, it’s making my life difficult.”

  “So quit fighting me already.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  Finally! We met halfway. He hoisted me up so that my arms and legs were wrapped around him, which resulted in a staggering step that nearly took us down. But he somehow stayed on his feet. Just when our kisses got good and juicy, Erik’s phone began ringing. He immediately released me and began looking for his cell. I scooped it up from the table and thrust it at him.

  “Hello?” Pause. “She’s right here.” He handed it back.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Levi Crane. I understand you have a laptop for me.”

  “Yes. Mr. DeLuca thought we should meet somewhere so I can give it to you in person.”

  “I’m in Springfield. Where are you?”

  “Just outside of Branson, but I’ve been thinking of driving to Lake Village, which is near there, to see my dad, so if you want to get together, say, tomorrow, I could.”

  “Perfect.”

  We set the time and place—the parking lot of Bass Pro Shop at 11:00 a.m.—and he rang off. I shared our plans with Erik. “You did say you’d go with me to see my dad.”

  “Yes, I did, and yes, I will.”

  I thought he seemed pleased by my decision and the fact that I’d included him.

  Though I was ready to pick up where we’d left off when the call came in, the distraction had pretty much killed the mood. So I settled for some lazy kisses on the couch before bed, which wasn’t really settling at all.

  ****

  The drive from Erik’s cabin to Branson on Thursday took a little longer than we expected because it had snowed during the night. Since the fastest way to get to Springfield from that point on was the main highway, we went with that route and found that the roads had been cleared and the bridges salted.

  The terrain quickly changed from wooded hills to bare cliffs that bordered the divided four lane. It looked as if a giant had notched an area of boulder just big enough for the road, revealing the colored strata within. Erik told me he’d taken many a photo along this picturesque route.

  I glanced into his backseat where a big box containing samples of his stationery sat. Unbuckling for a moment, I leaned over the front seat and got out a couple of items so I could check them out. The note cards were made of heavy-weight cream colored paper he told me he bought online and printed up himself. I’d seen the expensive printer he used, so I wasn’t surprised the cards looked so professional. The photos he’d taken were gorgeous. Turning one over, I saw his logo and the words Escapes by Erik.

  He’d confessed last night that he’d been trying to get the nerve to talk to the Bass Pro powers-that-be in hopes of the retail sporting goods chain selling his work. Since I’d been in the store many times, I knew they stocked much more than hunting supplies. They had nice clothing, shoes, gourmet food items, and even toys, so wilderness note cards and stationery weren’t that much of a stretch. I’d told him that there wouldn’t be a better time than today to do it.

  We got there right after opening time and found hardly any frozen stuff on the parking lot. Springfield hadn’t had near the amount of snowfall that the hills adjacent to Branson had. Erik quickly located a manager, who directed him to the person in charge of buying. Their discussion was eye opening to say the least. I’d had no idea that vendors had to be insured and couldn’t help but wonder if they really thought someone who got a paper cut off one of my boyfriend’s note cards would sue him. I decided we lived in a very strange world. Yeah. Me, the werewolf.

  Erik took some information from the guy and left samples for their consideration. Supposedly he’d be contacted in a couple of days. I crossed my fingers for him. We spent the hour exploring the place, which was massive. Finally 11:00 rolled around, thank goodness. I’d seen more than enough sporting goods, though Erik seemed to enjoy himself. I did buy my dad a wildlife desk calendar and a St. Louis Cardinal’s T-shirt to cover the birthday and Christmas I’d missed.

  Knowing Levi Crane drove a white Honda, Erik and I put up our packages and got the laptop before scanning the massive parking lot for him. Sure enough, someone was waving at us from a couple of rows away. I had to get closer to be sure it was Crane, which meant my full-moon senses were already on the wane. I saw he had a young man and woman with him.

  Crane wore khaki pants, a sweatshirt, and Docs—quite a change from the last time we’d met. He’d been strictly business then. His smile was warm and friendly as he introduced his companions.

  “Bronte, this is my sister Tehya Crane and her guy Rhyan Knox. We’re on a semi-vacation, I guess you could call it. Meeting halfway to have Christmas a little late since I’m living in DC and they’re in Colorado.”

  As I shook the hands offered to me, my nose sort of tickled. Oh my God. Were they���? Yes! Weres. Levi’s sister and her boyfriend were shifters. A million questions popped into my head, but I actually thought of one possibility that pretty much answered them all. Tehya clearly had Native American roots—ebony hair and eyes, gorgeous cheekbones, perpetual tan. Rhyan looked as though he might, too. That meant they had ancestors as mystical as mine. No wonder Crane, a lawyer who was definitely not canis lupus, had such an interest in our fates. He obviously adored his little sis.

  While we talked, I saw both Tehya and Rhyan sneaking glances at Erik. They had clearly picked up on his distinct Were scent. I started to just clear the air and explain what had gone down, especially when Levi began asking questions about Wednesday’s early morning visit from The Arm. But then he told us what happened when the Corteggio went to pick up Red, Buzz Cut, and Blondie, which put that right out of my head.

  Apparently the thre
e had shifted and chewed their way out of Erik’s ropes, and were long gone before the law got there. That scared me half to death. Why on earth hadn’t someone called to tell me?

  Crane assured us the Corteggio still had everything under control and would soon have the Weres in custody and a reason to arrest them—attempted kidnapping. I hoped he was right. Before we parted ways, I pulled him to the side and asked if it would be okay to tell my dad what had happened to me.

  “Your situation is tricky,” Levi said. “On the one hand, I don’t feel comfortable asking you to lie to your dad; on the other, I must caution that the more humans you tell, the better the chances of accidentally exposing us.”

  “My dad teaches world literature and is full-on nuts about myths and legends, most of which he believes have roots in reality. As far as he’s concerned, King Arthur, Robin Hood and even Dracula were living, breathing men. So if anyone could handle a preternatural revelation, it would be him, I guess. What I don’t know is how he’ll feel about his only daughter being a victim of it. I can see him worrying himself sick about me, and I don’t want that to happen.”

  “Then I suggest you play it by ear.”

  I nodded agreement and shortly afterward we went our separate ways.

  ****

  Erik and I got to my house in Lake Village just after noon. I’d planned it that way since my dad was a schedule freak and had always eaten his lunch at home. The house looked just the same, of course. Tan brick with some rock accents. I saw the porch furniture I’d picked out, myself, and the table that usually had a potted fern sitting on it in the summer. A sunny day sort of feeling came over me even though it definitely wasn’t one. I guessed it had something to do with finally being home again after so long away.

  Dad’s car was in the drive, as was a black sedan that probably belonged to his new wife. My old one wasn’t anywhere I could see though it could’ve been parked in the garage. Erik pulled up behind them and killed the engine. Clearly sensing how nervous I was, he leaned over the console and gave me a quick kiss. I gave him one back, but still anxiously checked my reflection in the visor mirror.

  Hair combed? Check. Make-up intact? Check. Food between my teeth? No. With hands that shook, I smoothed what I could see of my MSU T-shirt. Steeling myself, I got the gift bag and then climbed out of the Jeep and led the way to the front porch. I rang the bell before I lost my nerve.

  A young woman answered the door. My first thought? If this is Megan, Dad fell for one of his students. She looked that young with her long blond hair and that slender body. Her clothes—tattered jeans and an off-the-shoulder sweater only reinforced that idea. But then I remembered the marriage announcement in the newspaper, which said they both taught at MSU.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling at us. “May I help you?”

  Deep breath, Bronte. “Is Sean home?”

  Her big blue eyes widened ever so slightly. I could imagine what she was thinking: Why would one of her husband’s students be calling him by his first name?

  “Yes, he is. Come in.” She opened the door wide and ushered us into the foyer. “Sean? You have company.”

  I heard the scrape of his chair on the tile floor in the kitchen. A second later, he appeared. My heart turned a somersault at the sight of his familiar blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair. He smiled politely as he joined us, but without recognition. Guess his dead daughter was not someone he’d expected to drop by. Or had my looks changed in the past months? I suddenly remembered I’d had short hair when I was kidnapped. I’d also weighed more and been a year younger. So I no longer matched the photos of me that were just all over the place, even the latest ones.

  “Dad?” My voice sounded so tiny and uncertain as I set down the bag.

  But it was loud enough. He gasped and took a staggering step back, his hand on his chest. His face drained of color. “Bronte.”

  And then I was in his arms. I wasn’t sure who’d moved. Both of us, maybe. As Dad lifted me up close, I hugged him back with all my might, cherishing the familiar smell of his aftershave and the feel of his rock-solid body. The moment I’d thought would never come again had somehow arrived. My joy completely overwhelmed me.

  “Where have you been, baby girl? Where in the hell have you been?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Baby girl. I’d forgotten about him calling me that. Those words had sometimes irked me in the past, but I knew they never would again. “I’ll tell you everything, but first I have to introduce someone and so do you.”

  Dad set me on my feet. I included Megan in my smile and grabbed Erik’s wrist to pull him closer. “This is Erik Thorne. He’s saved my life twice now. Erik, this is my dad, Sean Hannigan.”

  Dad released me and hugged Erik, probably catching him off guard. Erik patted him on the back rather awkwardly a couple of times and then made his escape, his face as pink as my father’s now was.

  “And you must be Megan,” I offered her my hand.

  She took it and added a hug, softly whispering, “Welcome home. You’ve been missed.”

  I choked back the sob stuck in my throat and blinked to clear my vision. Dad was waiting. “The last eighteen months have probably been hell for you.”

  “Hell? That doesn’t begin to go there. First the police showed up and told me your purse and car had been found at a Laundromat. Then there was no trace of you anywhere. Me, my students, the neighbors, your friends and total strangers papered the city with your picture. I went on TV and begged for your return. I offered a reward.” He was really getting wound up.

  Megan put her arm around his waist.

  He didn’t seem to notice. “We had that damn memorial service. There’s even a gold plaque with your name on it next to your mama’s headstone at Crestlawn Cemetery. Oh, don’t cry. It’s all good now.” He pulled me close again. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but it was beating no harder than mine.

  Though I tried to choke back my tears, I still wound up sobbing into my father’s shirt. I felt even worse for him than for me. Erik was so right about my coming home. Sean Hannigan deserved to know I was alive as did everyone else who’d worried about or shed a tear for me. “I have so much to tell you.”

  “Have you guys eaten?” asked Megan, blinking tears from her eyes. “We could sit in the dining room and talk while you do.”

  “We haven’t, but I don’t think I can just yet.” I glanced toward the kitchen. “But you should finish your lunch. I know you probably have afternoon classes.”

  Dad shook his head. “No. I’m done with lunch and today’s classes. At least let me get you something to drink.”

  Was he really treating me like a guest in my own home? Hoping the weirdness would soon pass, I told him I’d take a Coke. Erik said he’d take one, too. When my father turned as if to go get them, I stopped him. “I know where they are, Dad.”

  That made him chuckle and defused the situation just a little, which was what I was going for. I got the cold cans of soda from the mini fridge in the den and walked to the sectional where they were all settling in. I handed Erik his drink and popped the top of mine as I sat next to him.

  The fire in the stone fireplace crackled and spit sparks. I saw that Megan, now sitting close to Dad, had some candles burning on the mantel. The room was just exactly as I remembered with the addition of some framed photos of people I didn’t know. Megan’s family and friends, I figured.

  A quick drink helped soothe my dry mouth if not my nerves. “First off, I’m okay, as in really. Next, please let me get all this out. I know you’re going to have a lot of questions, and I promise I’ll answer them all. Just don’t freak until I’m done, okay?”

  Dad was looking more anxious by the second, but he still managed a nod.

  So I took off, speed talking my way through the living nightmare beginning with my Laundromat kidnapping; going through my day-to-day life as a prisoner, my release, and my wreck; and finally ending with Erik’s rescuing me. Not once did I mention the werewolves,
the Corteggio, or The Bite. I simply said there was a national crime organization called The Arm that was behind what had happened to me.

  “So law enforcement broke up this gang?” Dad asked when I finally finished.

  “Yes. Well, the Houston branch of it, anyway. I’m pretty sure some branches of the gang still exist somewhere. Yarbrough is in prison, though.”

  “And you couldn’t have gotten word to me that you were okay? You said you kept his books. Did he have internet?”

  “Yes, but he said he’d kill you if I tried to send a message, and I believed him.”

  “But why didn’t you call, or text, or email, or even come home the moment you were rescued?” Dad’s tone wasn’t really accusatory, just curious. And his question was actually logical considering the time it usually took to get any kind of criminal conviction in our country. He clearly thought I’d been free for months instead of days.

  I purposely didn’t set him straight for some reason. “Honestly? I was still scared to.”

  Dad had never looked so mortified. “Surely you didn’t think I’d—”

  My raised hand stopped him. “I wasn’t scared of you or what you might be thinking. I wasn’t even scared I might be in trouble with the law for the things I had to do. I was scared of The Arm, which I truly believe still has bad guys all over the world. I thought if I came home, they might connect the two of us and come after me out of revenge or fear I knew things that might bring them down. That could’ve put you guys in danger, and I wasn’t having that. It was Erik who convinced me I should come here anyway.”

  Dad looked worried. “Then you think you’re still in danger?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I hope not.”

  He sat in silence for a moment. “I’m surprised the law didn’t contact me. You’re a minor—”

  “You missed a birthday,” I gently reminded him.

  Realization dawned. His eyes filled. “So I did.”

  “I told them I’d handle it myself, okay?” I tried to lighten the heavy mood. “Anyway, it’s all good now. I’m here and Erik’s got a rifle. If all else fails, he can protect me.” I faked a laugh and glanced at my guy. “But you’ll have to load it first.”

 

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