by A. J. Colby
Damn, he’s pretty, I thought in a moment of sleep-deprived weakness, before shaking the thoughts away and reminding myself that it was entirely possible he’d been in cahoots with Chuckles and Metembe.
“You look like crap,” he said in greeting, turning over his coffee cup as the waitress bustled over.
“I feel worse,” I said, touching the tip of my tongue to the partially healed split in my lip.
“You want to tell me what happened?”
“Not really,” I said, pausing to take a sip of my coffee, wincing when the strong brew burned my lip. Once our waitress had retreated out of earshot I added, “But I will.”
Hank sat in silence as I regaled him with the events of the night before and the revelation that his second-in-command had been working with Cordova’s head of security to dethrone the Shepherd of the City. It was obvious he wanted to call bullshit, but I knew he could smell Metembe’s blood on me just as his sister had. Besides, I had no reason to lie.
“It looks like he had it in his head that you’d make a better Shepherd than Cordova. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Ever since I’d discovered Metembe’s motivation behind killing innocent vamps and weres, I’d been trying to ignore my growing suspicion that the pack master might have been in on the whole thing, or worse yet, the orchestrator of it all. Ignoring our shared moment of passion that had resulted in an ill-timed, yet admittedly steamy, kiss, I wanted to like the rugged pack master. While the past few days had confirmed my preference to remain a lone wolf, I had also learned that I didn’t detest the company of other weres. As supportive as Holbrook was, there were things about me he didn’t understand, and never would.
Hank didn’t answer at first, and I watched his face for any sign of emotion as he processed my words. Eventually he broke the silence, but his response left me as dissatisfied as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “Thank you for letting me know what happened to Metembe.”
When it became evident he wasn’t going to say anything else, I asked, “That’s it? You’re not going to profess surprise that your lieutenant was a raving lunatic who thought you deserved to be king of all?”
“I am surprised by his actions,” Hank said, though to my ears his words lacked any semblance of conviction.
Folding my arms across my chest and leaning forward over the table I said, “You don’t seem very surprised.”
“I’m sorry my reaction doesn’t meet with your expectations,” he replied in an even voice though the first shadow of a sneer touched his face.
“What reaction? You look like I just told you it might snow later, not that your second-in-command was a crazed, elitist psychopath who thought butchering innocent people was the best way to get you crowned king of the city.”
Standing up from the table so abruptly that the legs of his chair squealed on the floor, Hank delved into the pocket of his jeans to retrieve a decent sized wad of cash. Peeling off a few of the topmost bills, he tossed them on the table next to his still steaming cup.
“For the coffee,” he said, slipping his jacket on.
I remained seated at the table for a couple seconds, staring wide-eyed at his retreating back before leaping up to chase him out the door. He was already halfway down the block when I caught up to him.
“What the hell?”
I caught the almost imperceptible tightening of his shoulders as he came to a halt and, with a sigh, turned to face me. The hard set of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze made me pull up short, rocking back on my heels. Gone was the golden Adonis I’d been lusting after. He was still drop dead gorgeous, but there was a hardness to him now that hadn’t been there before.
Or perhaps I’d just been too blind to see it.
“Let it go, Riley.”
“The hell I will,” I snapped, feeling as betrayed by the exposure of his true colors as my own naiveté. “Did you know about this? What he was doing?”
He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look away from my furious gaze either.
“Did you put him up to it?” I asked, the chilling thought blooming in my mind at the same instant the words left my lips.
“I said, let it go,” he finally said. And then he was walking away, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.
For a moment I contemplated chasing after him, but what was the point? It was clear he was going to deny any involvement in the attacks no matter how I phrased the question. The simple truth was that my faith in him had been shaken and there was nothing that could be done to repair the damage. I watched him walk away until he reached the end of the block and turned the corner, disappearing out of sight.
Returning to the diner, I almost didn’t notice the difference in temperature between the outside and the cozy interior, my anger burning plenty warm to keep the chill at bay.
“Are you ready to order, or would you like to wait for your friend to come back?” the waitress asked, glancing at the empty chair opposite me.
“No, thanks. He’s not coming back. I’ll just take the check.”
It wasn’t until I gathered Hank’s cash with my own to pay the check I saw the three hundred dollar bills peeking out from beneath the five on top.
“That bastard,” I muttered, shoving my arms into my jacket with furious motions. Leaving the cash on the table, I drained the rest of the coffee from my cup and walked out the door.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
ARRIVING HOME A couple hours later, I felt the small modicum of calm I’d garnered during my drive home disappear like a puff of smoke at the sight of a cardboard box sitting on the doormat. My mind instantly conjured up images of dead coyotes and vague threats. While it had been Metembe who’d left the bloody warning on my doorstep, I wouldn’t have put it past Johnson and his Humans for Humanity brethren to still be skulking around somewhere close by waiting for the right moment to strike and take me out.
Not wanting to take any chances, I parked my Jeep in the driveway and retrieved a rake from the garage with sweating hands before approaching in a cautious crab walk. Using the garden tool, I gave the box a jab and tensed in anticipation, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
The box remained inert, hanging out all box-like on the mat, but my suspicion persisted. After the week I’d had, I decided I couldn’t be too careful. It would be just my luck to survive a psychotic werewolf and a murderous vamp just to be done in by something as innocuous looking as a cardboard box. Giving it another poke for good measure, I relented and took slow steps forward until the FedEx shipping label came into view. I was fairly certain the shipping conglomerate hadn’t taken up shipping body parts and implements of doom, so figured I was safe for the moment.
Setting my impromptu weapon aside, I crouched beside the package and tore off the tape. My suspicion gave way to confusion as I dug through the packaging, unearthing a stuffed animal in the shape of a grey wolf and another smaller box wrapped in bubble wrap. Even through the layers of plastic wrapping I could detect the mouthwatering aroma of gourmet chocolate.
“What the...”
I couldn’t think of many things less threatening than stuffed animals and expensive chocolates and resolved that the box hadn’t been sent by anyone wanting to do me harm.
Unless of course, the wolf is spelled to explode in my face and the chocolates are laced with Wolfsbane, the snide voice in the back of my mind supplied helpfully.
“Shut up,” I muttered to myself as I finished digging through the box, hoping to find some clue as to the identity of its sender.
At the bottom, tucked beneath the sales order, I found a printed gift message and let the last of my hesitation slip away. Holbrook. The great big lug had almost caused me to have a heart attack, but had also written a gushing apology, promising to make up for his absence. Dashing the moisture from my eyes, I gathered the box and its contents in my arms and went inside.
* * *
After plying Loki with the obligatory litany of apologies and an entire
can of tuna, I slipped into the shower to wash the stink of vampires, werewolf briquettes, and fear from my body. It took half a bottle of body wash and scrubbing my skin until it was pink and tingling, but eventually a cursory sniff told me I smelled only of orange blossom soap and the faint warm cinnamon of the wolf. Turning my back to the shower head I lingered beneath the spray long past the point of turning into a giant prune; the hot water sluicing over my skin had never felt so good.
I didn’t get out of the shower until the hot water had been depleted and I was at risk of turning into a popsicle. Feeling more refreshed than I had in days, I dumped my dirty clothes into the hamper, deciding to at least try washing the blood and dirt out of them before throwing them away. The check from Cordova would keep me going for a few months, but I didn’t want to shell out for a new wardrobe unless I absolutely had to.
Determined to let nothing draw me out of the house for the next few days, I pulled on my coziest pair of pajama pants, a pair of fuzzy socks, and one of Holbrook’s t-shirts that had ended up in my closet. The soft cotton still held a trace of his rich molasses scent, and I paused to draw in the smell of him as I went about fixing a pot of coffee and digging out something to eat.
I was stretched out on my couch, lounging beneath the comforting warmth of my grandmother’s afghan and a contentedly purring cat, licking the last sticky traces of peanut butter and honey from my fingers, when my phone chirped on the coffee table. I let the noise persist for several seconds as I debated whether or not I wanted to answer it or just let whoever it was get shunted over to voicemail. Letting out a sigh, I decided I might as well look to see who it was, and almost didn’t believe it when I saw Holbrook’s name flashing on the shattered screen while the phone continued to chirp like a demented cricket. Some small, irrational part of my brain had begun to wonder if I’d ever hear from him again or if he’d been stolen away by a super-secret government entity.
Dumping Loki onto the floor, I scrambled to reach the phone before it went to voicemail, my hands shaking so badly that I almost dropped it in my haste.
“Here! I’m here. Please don’t hang up!” I cried out as I lifted the phone to my ear, smearing honey across my cheek in the process.
The rich, melodious sound of Holbrook’s chuckle drifted into my ear, warming me from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair, and everywhere in between. At any other time I might have been put out by the fact that he was laughing at me, but I was too damned happy hearing his voice to let it bother me.
“Hey, you,” I said, embarrassed.
Laughter continued to bubble in his voice as he returned my greeting. “Hey, you, too.”
Cradling the phone in the crook of my shoulder, I slumped back into the couch, drawing the fallen afghan back over my knees and closed my eyes. I could feel the goofy smile spreading across my face, but didn’t care.
“Did you get my flowers?”
“Yes, they’re beautiful, thank you,” I said, glancing at the dozen crimson roses sitting in the middle of my coffee table in a crystal vase. They’d been delivered just as I was sitting down to eat, and I’d been gazing at them like a love sick fool ever since.
“And the chocolates?”
“Those too,” I said, resisting the urge to pop another one in my mouth. I figured it was only fair for me to save one or two of them for him, but if he didn’t come home soon the likelihood of there being anything but empty wrappers was slim to none.
“And the wolf?”
“Yes, Darius. I got them all,” I said, fighting against the chuckle bubbling in the back of my throat as I ran a hand over the velvety fur of the dark grey stuffed wolf holding a red velvet heart that said ‘I Ruff You’ in its mouth.
“I have one more surprise for you.”
“You really don’t need to—”
“Yes, I do. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there in person, but I wanted you to know I was thinking of you.”
“I—”
“Just say thank you, Riley.”
“Thank you,” I said. “But really, you don’t have to send me anything else,” I added before he could cut me off again.
“Okay, okay,” he said through his laughter, the rumbling sound of it making me wish he was already there, curled up next to me. “But I do still have a surprise for you.”
“Oh?” I asked with a degree of wariness. I don’t like surprises. I’ve found that they rarely turn out in my favor.
“Watch the news tonight at six.”
“Umm...”
“All will be revealed,” he said in a mysterious tone, and I pictured him waving his hand in the air with dramatic flair.
Does that make me his lovely, doe-eyed assistant? I wondered and snorted at the mental image of myself prancing across stage in heels and sequins. Right. And for my next trick I’ll sprout fairy wings and fart rainbows.
“Er... okay. When will you be home?”
“Tomorrow. We touch down at four so I’ll be back in time to take you to dinner,” he replied, the affection in his voice forming a lump in the back of my throat and bringing a moistness to my eyes that most certainly was not tears. Nope, no sappiness going on over here. The warmth in the pit of my stomach turned to something far more heated when he added, “And after dinner, maybe you can model my Christmas gift again.”
“I might be able to make that happen,” I replied, my voice sounding husky to my own ears while my cheeks flamed.
* * *
Switching over to the local news promptly at six, I almost choked on my pizza when Holbrook’s face appeared on the TV screen alongside several other suited men. They wore matching professional smiles that only partially hid the mixture of excitement and nervousness. Behind them loomed the cast iron dome of the capitol building in Washington, D.C.
“What the fuck?” I murmured, letting the slice of pizza fall back onto the plate.
Beside me, Loki let out a questioning meow and cocked his head to one side as though he shared my confusion at seeing our FBI agent on the news.
“...pleased to announce the development of the Arcane Investigation Bureau,” a rather official sounding man in a dark brown suit and too much hair gel was telling the camera from his vantage point behind a podium baring an unfamiliar seal, which I could only assume belonged to the new governmental agency. “This new, specialized task force will be responsible for investigating crimes of a supernatural nature, and will consist of skilled individuals from all branches of law enforcement.”
I didn’t have to guess at the kind of skills they had sought in their applicants as the camera panned along the line of men and women. I was easily able to pick out the delicately pointed ears of a fae here and the subtly feral features of a were there.
Over the next five minutes, the speaker droned on about the importance of the new bureau, making a point of noting that the AIB would be working closely with the FBI and local law enforcement to protect citizens, both supernatural and mundane. His speech ended with details of the five regional offices that would be opening in Sacramento, Austin, Nashville, Boston, and of course, Denver.
My appetite gone, I reached for a napkin to wipe the grease from my fingers as the TV switched back to the local news feed. The napkin fluttered uselessly from my fingers and I almost swallowed my tongue when the camera alighted on Chrismer standing in front of the FBI headquarters in Denver, the blue mosaic glass panes reflecting the glare of the lights illuminating her. Loki jumped up like a shot and high-tailed it over the back of the couch, disappearing into the relative safety of my bedroom when I let out a wordless cry of fury and pounded a fist on the arm of the couch.
“You’ve got to be shitting me!” I snarled when I could finally form words again.
“Hi, Chris and Rachel! I’m here outside the Denver FBI Field Office where Division Chief Javier Santos is preparing to deliver a statement regarding the formation of the Arcane Investigation Bureau. As you know, the AIB will be working closely with the FBI and other factions of law enforcement t
o investigate supernatural crimes. To help foster the close working relationship between the two agencies, the AIB will be housed here in the Denver Field Office, and will be headed up by former FBI Special Agent Darius Holbrook.” Here Chrismer paused to flash the camera a wide smile.
Whatever she said next was swallowed by the low buzzing sound in my ears as I stared unseeing at the screen.
That conniving bitch.
I’d risked my life more times than I could count over the past several days, all in an effort to protect Holbrook’s secret, and in the end it had all been for naught. Chrismer’s threats had been as useless as a paper sack in a flood, and I’d gone along with her scheme like a puppet on a string.
She had played me, and rather expertly so.
“Well, shit.”
###
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Bitten. I hope you enjoyed reading about Riley’s latest exploits and learning more about her world. If you’d like to know when her next adventure comes out, visit my website and sign up for the newsletter to receive new release alerts and exclusive free content.
I hope you’ll also leave a review with your thoughts on the website where you bought Bitten. It helps other readers find the series and helps me keep writing the stories you love. Also, your feedback makes me dance a happy jig in my living room that makes my fiancé laugh like a demented gnome.
Thanks for all your support. Happy reading!
A.J. Colby
http://www.ajcolbyauthor.com
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Bringing a story to life truly is a group effort, and could not have been accomplished without the marvelous help of my team of dedicated supporters. I’d to think thank all the people who helped make this book possible:
Thank you to my amazing editor, Lisa L. Bingham, who spent many hours scouring the pages of my manuscript with a critical eye. You nearly gave me a heart attack with all that red, but your guiding hand helped transform this story into something far stronger and better. I’m so glad you agreed to come along for the ride, and I can’t wait for you to see what Riley and Holbrook get up to next!