Four Weddings and a Werewolf swp-2

by Kristin Miller

“Down that way,” Logan said, pointing. “Carter’s already there.”

  They nodded once more, then made their way down the hall.

  Veronica would be safe with the three of them standing guard outside her door. Still, he needed to grab and dash. As the elevator doors opened, Logan was bombarded by noise. Music, laughter, glasses clinking, and arguments starting near the bar. It was a riot…a loosely controlled one. Everyone seemed to be smiling and having a great time, stomping and clapping in the “Cha-Cha Slide.” Leah and Jake were nowhere to be found. They must’ve been enjoying their time as husband and wife.

  Logan tried to search the crowd for someone who didn’t belong. Anyone who struck him as someone looking to stir up trouble.

  Nothing.

  No time to waste, he hugged the back wall and strode around tables until he came to the dinner spread on a long, rectangular table at the back of the room. Fully made plates were arranged on one side of the table, with cake plates on the other side. Using a fork, Logan slid food from one plate to another, so that there was an overflowing mound of chicken, potatoes and veggies. He did that a second time, stacking the empty plates on each other.

  Just to be sure three helpings would suffice, Logan added another couple bread rolls.

  Time to get back to his woman.

  His woman.

  Grinning at the thought, Logan spun around and knocked into a packmate who was rushing past to grab seconds. The food splattered against Logan’s chest, drenching him in a sticky, reddish juice. The plates hit the floor.

  “Sorry, dude,” the packmate said, helping him brush off a chunk of broccoli. “Didn’t think you’d spin around so fast.”

  Logan sighed, struggling to keep his frustration on lockdown so it wouldn’t flip to anger. “It’s all right. I got it. Just go.”

  The packmate took off toward his table with a new plate, while Logan tried to brush off what he could. He stunk to high heaven. Like greasy chicken and garlic sauce. His wiped off his hands, used a bunch of napkins to dab the mess, then went to work remaking Veronica her late-night snack.

  Thanks to the spill—and another few minutes trying to get away from an old woman who insisted he looked just like her nephew—Logan stepped off the elevator ten minutes later than he’d planned to.

  He hit the floor nearly running. And stopped when a pair of boots sticking out from a foyer down the way caught his eye.

  Carter.

  Veronica.

  He dropped the plates and charged down the hall, heart in his throat. Carter was unconscious, though there were no visible wounds. Logan peeled back his eyelids and checked his pulse.

  Alive.

  “Veronica?” Logan hollered, then pushed open the door to the suite. “Veronica, are you in here?”

  No answer.

  The unmistakable scent of something zesty, or fiery Mexican food, stung his nose. It was the same smell he’d picked up when he met Veronica’s pastor friend, Patrick.

  He’d been here.

  But Pastor Patrick Bennett couldn’t have been a wolf—he didn’t give off the scent, first of all. Secondly, there were hundreds of wolves living in Seattle. Patrick had to have lived like a damned monk not to be recognized by someone at the wedding. Maybe anonymity had been his plan all along…

  Logan chastised himself for not following his instincts. He didn’t like that guy from the second he met him.

  Rage shook Logan’s bones and boiled the blood in his veins. His legs twitched with unbridled power.

  Where would Patrick take her? His private suite? There had to be hundreds of condos and suites in the tower. How long would it take to track down Veronica’s scent? Ten? Twenty minutes? That’d be too late.

  “Roof,” Carter mumbled from the floor.

  Logan bent. “He took her to the roof?”

  Nodding, Carter roused and got to his knees. “Sorry, man. No one expects a preacher to pull a fucking Taser out of his pocket.”

  “What happened to the other guys?” Logan asked.

  Carted swallowed hard. “Wrong group. They were on order from Alpha. They guard his daughter on the other side of the building.” He pointed down the hall. “Your guys were probably getting drinks before heading up.”

  Shit.

  “I’ll call for help,” Logan said.

  “No, I’ll get help.” Carter swallowed hard and brushed himself off. “You get the girl.”

  “Damn right.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Veronica fought against the ropes tying her wrists together to no avail. Her arms were tied behind her back, and her shoulders hurt from the strain. She kicked out her feet, but they hit the legs of the chair. Patrick had tied her ankles too tightly to budge them free.

  “Why are you doing this?” She swallowed down hot tears. “I don’t understand.”

  Patrick squatted in front of her, his arms resting on his knees the way he used to do when they made campfires in his backyard and he’d help get her marshmallow the perfect shade of brown.

  “I didn’t want things to happen this way, but you left me no choice.”

  “What way?” She tugged on her wrists. “What are you talking about?”

  “I cared about you.” His gaze was soft, and oddly sincere. “You and Leah were like sisters to me. I wanted good things for you, Veronica. I wanted to care for you and protect you.”

  “Then why are you doing this?”

  “To make you remember…” He tapped his fist against his chin. “When you lost your parents, who was there for you?”

  Nobody, really. “You?”

  He’d called to express his condolences. They’d hung out a couple times. As friends. That had been it. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Patrick—she did—it was just that they’d gone separate ways, were leading different lives. They didn’t fit the way they had before.

  “I was there for you when you needed me. It made me happy to replace the family you lost.”

  “You didn’t—” she began, but he shushed her.

  “I never knew if you realized this,” he said, “but I was turned into a wolf our senior year in high school.”

  “I didn’t know.” How could she have? They weren’t close then. They’d drifted into different circles. Where was Logan? Would he know to find her up here? “Please let me go, Patrick. Please.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. “I was at a party, passed out, and some drunken adolescent werewolf though it’d be funny to bite me. The transition wasn’t difficult and I actually liked the power and strength of my wolf form. But one thing always bothered me.”

  Veronica frowned and tugged harder on her wrists. It’d been five minutes since they’d been up here. Maybe ten.

  Patrick stood and brushed his hand down Veronica’s cheek. She flinched.

  “That wolf took away the possibility of ever being close to you again. I wanted the same things as you and Leah. A home filled with laughter and love. A family. But neither of you would be with me as a wolf.”

  He crouched at her side, his face inches away from hers. She couldn’t look at him, so she stared straight ahead, willing those elevator doors to open.

  “I figured if I couldn’t share a human life with you,” he said, “I’d make you like me. I’d turn you both into wolves and we’d be together again.”

  “What?” she screeched.

  “Leah went first, and that was easy.” He chuckled, his fat cheeks scrunching beneath his eyes. “She didn’t see it coming.”

  “You’re the one who attacked her?”

  “No one suspected a pastor.” He winked, clearly proud of the work he’d done and how he’d gotten away with it. “No matter how much I hated what I had to do, the sacrifice had to be made. How else could we be a family again? That’s what you wanted, all you guys ever talked about. I was going to give that to you.”

  “A family”—Veronica’s head went light—“with you?”

  His expression shadowed over. “Is that so hard to believe?”
<
br />   “We were never together that way!” She jerked the chair forward and back. “What would make you think that we would want to start a family with you in the first place?”

  “You and I were together before, we could’ve been together again.”

  “We were friends!”

  “No, we were more than that.” A smile slunk across his face. “Don’t you remember?”

  “Remember what?” Veronica nailed him with a glare meant to kill.

  “We kissed in eighth grade.”

  “When we played spin the bottle?” she screeched. “It was one kiss! It didn’t mean anything!”

  “It meant something to me.” His tone changed from good ole Patrick to dark and scratchy. “You were my first kiss. The first girl I claimed as my own.”

  “The first girl you—oh, hell no.”

  “I was so upset that I had to break your heart by leaving.”

  “Break my heart?” Was she hearing him correctly? “You didn’t—my heart was never yours!”

  He shook his head, a dopey smile stretching across his face. “We dated off and on for years.”

  He’d snapped, and was primed for the loony bin.

  If Veronica had a free hand to smack her forehead, she would’ve. “We. Never. Dated. Not once. You’ve lost your mind. Seriously. You should get yourself checked.”

  “We were close, don’t you remember? Closer than friends. It hurt our relationship that you had so much studying to do on weekends, but I understood. I knew how seriously you took schoolwork.”

  “Yeah, I was busy.” An infuriated laugh bubbled out of her. “But that’s not why I turned you down when you asked me out. I don’t know how many more times I have to say this, but we were friends. Nothing more.”

  “You were mine,” he said. “We had a friendship that bloomed into something beautiful. You were my first everything, Veronica. My first kiss, my first date, my first love. I tried to romance you with the anonymous letters and flowers. Did I play the part right?”

  Her stomach dropped. “What part?”

  “Isn’t it every woman’s dream to have a secret admirer, someone who watches out for her and loves her from afar?”

  “Oh God.”

  “See, I know what you want, what you need, without you ever having to say the words. We’re perfect for each other. Soul mates. Do you blame me for wanting to take you back?”

  She flailed. “Is that what you’re doing with me? Trying to take back what you think is yours? News flash for you, buddy. I’m not yours. I never was and I never will be.”

  He backhanded her so quickly Veronica felt the sting before she heard the smack. She stared at the rooftop. The night had flipped head over end…

  Where was Logan?

  “I hadn’t planned on you and Logan jumping into the sack so quickly, so that makes things a bit more difficult, but I think this will still work.”

  She blinked back stinging tears. “What will work?”

  “Well,” Patrick said, standing with his hands on his hips and looking around. “I’d planned on revealing myself tonight and bonding with you, but if Logan has already marked you as his, I’ll simply have to take him out of the picture before we commit our lives to each other.”

  “You need to be committed. Period.” Veronica jerked her hands and feet, and this time, Veronica yanked so fast and so hard, the bottom half of the chair broke. She hit the rooftop and rolled onto her side.

  Patrick scrambled to pull her upright, but the elevator doors burst open and Logan charged out in wolf form, snarling and foaming at the mouth. He was huge, his back raised in a sharp ridge, his shoulders hunched, his neck thick and wide.

  “Ready to defend your woman?” Patrick said, releasing his hold on her chair. “Veronica was mine before she was yours, so that means we have just as much to be fighting for.”

  Logan growled, vibrating the air around them. He stepped closer. He caught Veronica’s gaze, and behind the anger and fury, there was tenderness.

  I’m okay.

  …

  Logan couldn’t hear Veronica’s thoughts, but he could read them in her eyes. She looked fine. Unhurt. On second glance, her cheek was puffy and starting to turn a deep shade of red.

  Patrick had struck her.

  Rage surged through Logan’s body, hot and fast like bolts of lightning. He was going to rip Patrick’s throat out. He stalked closer. Even from here, he could smell that horrible scent that clung to Patrick like a death cloak.

  “It’s cologne,” Patrick said, walking behind Veronica. “A special mix that a witch doctor in Silverdale made for me. It cost an arm and a leg, but it masks the wolf scent from our kind. Once I saw you move in across the street from her, I knew I had to do something if I wanted to keep a close eye on my love.” He brushed hair out of Veronica’s eyes. Logan was going to bite off every finger that touched her. “If it wasn’t for you, we’d be together now.” He glared beneath bushy brows. “She loved me first. She’ll love me again.”

  Logan circled wide, drawing Patrick away from Veronica. Patrick paced until his back faced the elevator and Logan’s back was nearly flush against the half dome building where he and Veronica had lain not twenty-four hours earlier.

  “But first, I have to get rid of you,” Patrick said, and smiled.

  Like to see you try. Logan snarled.

  Patrick was a turned wolf and couldn’t shift unless there was a full moon. Last time Logan checked, the moon was waning. Patrick was at a major disadvantage.

  Logan rushed him. Patrick pulled a Taser from behind his back—probably the weapon he’d used on Carter. He fired. Logan leaped aside, barely missing the zinging strands as they snapped by him. Logan charged Patrick as he reloaded, clicking another cartridge on the gun. He was on Patrick in two bounding strides, knocking him off his feet. Logan glowered over Patrick, his feet on either side of his cowardly body. Patrick shoved the square head of the Taser into Logan’s chest. At the blunt contact, Logan vaulted aside, a full-body recoil that saved his ass.

  “You’re fast,” Patrick said, breathing hard, watching Logan stalk around him. “But it’ll only take one shot to bring you down.”

  You won’t get that shot. Not on me. Not with Veronica.

  As Patrick aimed, the faint sound of the elevator doors grinding open hit Logan’s ears. Seething with uncontrollable wrath, Logan sprang.

  “Logan!” Veronica screamed.

  Patrick fired a second shot. He barely missed, the electrically charged wires buzzing by Logan’s ears as two hundred pounds of pissed-off werewolf landed on Patrick’s chest. Leaning down over Patrick’s face, Logan put all his weight into him, his front paws gouging into Patrick’s shoulders. His back paws slammed into the rooftop on either side of Patrick’s hips and pinned him down. Logan growled, rumbling with hatred that challenged Patrick to move a single muscle.

  The sound of guns cocking behind them drew Patrick’s gaze around Logan’s lurking form.

  The pack had arrived.

  “You can back off, Logan,” Drake said, shoving the muzzle of a .40 Glock into Patrick’s temple. “He’s not going to move a muscle or he’ll meet his maker before he’s had a chance to ask forgiveness for his sins. Right, Pastor Bennett?”

  Patrick tried to put up his hands, but Logan pushed more weight into his shoulders. The pastor cried out. Logan lowered his face to his. How easy it would be to bite through Patrick’s neck and sever his jugular vein. It’d be gory. Messy. A painful death. Exactly what he deserved.

  “Logan…” Veronica’s voice penetrated the fog surrounding his brain.

  His gaze met hers. Carter had helped her up and untied her hands and ankles.

  “Logan, it’s okay,” she said, reaching out for him.

  The air left his lungs on a sigh. Before he released Patrick, Logan snarled, snapping toward Patrick’s neck. He didn’t bite, but came close. Patrick needed to know that the only reason he wasn’t dead was because of his paper-thin restraint and Veronica’s p
lea.

  “We’ll take him,” Drake said, as a group of packmates lifted Patrick off the ground. They shackled him and dragged him into the gaping elevator. “He’ll go on trial with the wolf pack and be removed from society. He won’t bother you again.” Drake turned to leave, then stopped and spun around. “Veronica, if you two decide to finish what you started tonight, know that we’d be happy to welcome you into our family.”

  “Thank you.” She grinned sweetly, clasping her hands in front of her. Her hair was a dark, tousled mess, falling over her shoulders in a rich wave. The white terry cloth tower robe hugged her body, parting at the collar, revealing a faint mark where his mouth had been not thirty minutes earlier.

  When he and Veronica were finally alone, adrenaline bled from Logan’s veins. He approached Veronica, slowly, cautiously. He didn’t want to spook her.

  “Come here.” She brushed her hands over his back and down around his flanks. Her touch felt heavenly. A groan escaped his lips as her fingers dug into his hair. “I was so worried about you.”

  He gazed deep into her chocolate-brown eyes. They were rich and deep, shimmering with reverence. He leaned his face into her hand and shivers raced down his spine. She stroked his neck, running her hand along his fur in a loving caress. The fight in him simmered down, and he shifted as she touched him. He was still on all fours when his fur melted away and his body returned to proper form. The air was cool on his bare skin, but he didn’t care. He shivered from her touch, not the weather.

  “Hi,” she whispered, bringing her mouth over his.

  “I thought I’d lost you, so soon after I’d found you. I don’t know what I would’ve done.” He stroked her cheek where a yellowish bruise was surfacing. “Don’t ever leave my side again.”

  “Is that an order?” She smiled and brought her face to his neck to nuzzle into him.

  “No,” he said, “it’s a plea, and believe me…I don’t beg for much.”

  Dragging his knee beneath him, Logan sat and pulled Veronica over his lap. She was precious. Delicate. All his. He’d spend the rest of his life treasuring her the way she deserved.

  “I love you,” she said against his lips.