by Jodi Vaughn
“I need some information. There is something going on with the Arkansas Guardians. Some are missing.”
“So?” She snorted. “Maybe they got tired of doing what they were told and decided to leave.” She understood all too well the desire to follow her own rules and not live under the command of anyone else.
“Catty, don’t play with me. A girl like you working in a strip club that has more werewolves than humans has bound to have heard or seen something.” He leaned in closer. His anger, his frustration, and his scent snaked around her like a vine. He was pissed, really pissed, but she couldn’t help herself. Without thinking, she leaned in slightly to get a better sniff.
“What are you doing?”
She took a quick step back and shook her head. Sniffing you up didn’t seem to sound right in her head, so she decided to shift the focus.
“Look, I have no idea what you're talking about. I’ve not heard anything about any Guardians. I’m not the kind of girl a Guardian would hang with.” She smirked. “You must have gotten some bad intel.”
“I don’t get bad intel.” His eyes blazed.
Her heart went into overdrive and a bead of sweat rolled down her temple only to be swallowed up by her T-shirt. Freaking Louisiana heat. She probably resembled a drowned rat.
“Look, buddy.” She pushed her finger into his chest. He didn’t budge. “I don’t know anything about missing Guardians. Louisiana isn’t exactly swimming with Guardians since Edward Boudier has been running the state.”
“Edward Boudier? The Pack Master?” He blinked.
“One and the same.” She shrugged. “He seems to think the state is fine without Guardians and has been firing them right and left. Maybe that’s what your Pack Master is doing too.”
***
Lucien knew Edward Boudier had been an asshole to Barrett ever since the Louisiana Assassins had crossed into Arkansas without letting Barrett know. The whole thing was bad business to start with. Lucien had been surprised Barrett hadn’t come down harder on Boudier.
But now with Heimy skinned and Mitchell missing, the Louisiana Pack Master would take a harder stance on illegal activity within the state. He would want more Guardians.
Unless Barrett hadn’t told Edward about the missing Guardians.
“You’re telling me civilian werewolves are okay with everything like it stands, with having fewer Guardians?” His eyes bore into hers. She’d better be honest with him. He wasn’t here to play games.
“Civilians don’t get a say.” She cocked her head and crossed her arms.
The wind changed. Her scent— soft, sultry, sexy— washed over him. His mind blurred and he couldn’t control his body as his gaze dropped to her full mouth. His dick tightened behind his jeans. In that moment, time slowed and noise ceased. From the curve of her lips to the glint in her eye, he was trapped in the spell of her scent, unable to focus on anything but her.
What did her body taste like? What did she sound like when she came? What did she look like in the afterglow of an orgasm?
Shocked, he stepped back and sucked in a deep breath, dislodging the surprising erotic thoughts that had come out of nowhere.
Women didn’t affect him. Not like she had. When he was horny, he paid for ass. It was a lot less complicated and the women never asked why he kept his jacket on during sex. Many thought it was a turn-on.
As he stared down into Catty’s blue-gray eyes, his heart thudded in his chest. He glanced up at the approaching sunrise and blamed his reaction on the heat of the city.
Surely it had nothing to do with her.
“Everyone has a say. It’s the duty of the Pack Master of every state to protect its Weres.”
A shadow of sadness crossed her eyes before a mask of indifference slipped carefully into place. A hardness etched into her pretty features, and he knew she wasn’t going to give him any more information today.
“I guess I won’t take up any more of your time.” He stepped back and propped his hands on his hips.
Her lashes fluttered for a second. She held her breath as if he were waiting to trick her.
He wasn’t. It wasn’t his style.
“Good. I’ve got things to do.” She lifted her chin and turned on her heel.
He watched the sway of her hips as she walked away. Even in cutoff denim shorts and a baggy shirt, the girl had a body that had the early-morning male crowd stopping what they were doing and turning to watch her.
A nearby artist stopped setting up his artwork and watched Catty with lustful eyes. Lucien let out a growl before he could remember himself. The man caught the look in Lucien’s face. His smile faded and he quickly got back to work.
He watched until she turned the corner. He would give her a few seconds before following. He knew how to tail someone without getting made.
Keeping to the shadows was how he’d survived the city before. It was how he planned on surviving it again.
***
With her heart in her throat, Catty made it halfway down the alley before she glanced over her shoulder. She fully expected the large wolf to be following her. The empty alley sent a smidge of disappointment settling across her gut.
She shook her head. No, she wasn’t going to be disappointed. She was relieved.
Fisting her hands at her side, she continued walking. The soft tap of the rubber of her tennis shoes against the pavers echoed quietly between the two buildings. The rising sun and the shadows of the alley did nothing to shield her from the heat of the day. The humidity would reach its fingers through every nook and cranny of the Crescent City and not leave any living thing untouched.
She plucked her sweaty shirt away from her stomach and cursed the heat.
Reaching into her back pocket, she fished out a ponytail holder. She secured her sweaty hair with the tiny scrap of elastic. A heated breeze skimmed the back of her naked neck and a loose drop of sweat rolled down from her hair.
She swiped her hand across her forehead and glanced both ways down the street. After a car rolled past, she hurried across and then took another left toward the run-down part of town.
This wasn’t a part of town she would ever brave alone at night, but right now, with the sun coming up over the horizon, she felt safe enough to travel and not worry about getting mugged.
This was a high-crime area, especially after dark. Though drug houses were abundant in the neighborhood, so were the elderly people. Those were the people who’d lived there all their lives and couldn’t afford to move out. Their neighborhood had been taken over by the drug dealers, and the elderly were stuck.
She stopped when she came to Mrs. Willis’s house. The shotgun-style house, painted a vivid yellow many years ago, had seen better days. After weathering storms like Hurricane Katrina, the house was more the color of a coffee-stained tablecloth than a bright friendly yellow. A peeling white picket fence and the small gate hanging off-center were more evidence of how the house had fallen into disrepair.
Every now and then, Catty would squeeze her eyes and imagine the house in its glory days, when it looked like a picturesque portrait of the typical American dream. It was a blessing in disguise that Mrs. Willis had gone blind a few years ago from glaucoma. She would hate to know what her house looked like now.
She shoved open the damaged gate and walked down the uneven brick walk to the front door. The porch was small and empty with an old white rocking chair. In the spring, Catty had come by and hung some purple petunias from the porch. Mrs. Willis had commented on the smell and assured Catty they must be pretty. To some, it might seem like a waste of money since Mrs. Willis would never see the flowers, but it was worth it to see the old woman smile.
She rapped briskly on the wooden door. “Mrs. Willis, it’s Catty.”
She glanced over at the neighbor’s unkempt yard. The grass was in desperate need of mowing and the bushes against the house looked like they hadn’t been trimmed in over a year. An old Lincoln sedan sat in the yard with its naked wheels up on cinder
blocks.
The other houses on the street were not much better. Mrs. Willis would cringe if she could see the forsaken state the neighborhood had fallen into.
She’d tried to get Mrs. Willis to move, but the old lady was stubborn. She said it had been her home for eighty years and she wasn’t about to move. She said the way she was going to leave her home was in a pine box.
The door creaked open, revealing Mrs. Willis dressed in a simple yellow cotton dress and a gray apron.
“Catty, dear.” The excitement in Mrs. Willis’s voice touched something deep inside her and made her homesick. “I didn’t expect you today. Come in, come in.”
“It’s my day off and I thought I would come for a visit.” She gave the woman a hug, inhaling the comforting scent of drugstore perfume.
“I’m glad you came. I’m not sure if I have any cookies for tea, but you’re welcome to look.” Mrs. Willis placed her hand at the base of her throat and frowned. Being brought up in the South, she thrived on being a good hostess, even after her eyesight failed her.
“I ate some beignets and I couldn’t possibly eat another thing,” she declined politely as she stepped inside. The high ceiling fan stirred up enough breeze, sending a welcome relief from the heat.
She glanced around, noticing the dust on the end table beside the couch.
“I hope I didn’t disturb you. I didn’t mean to drop in on you like this.” But I needed someplace safe away from Lucien’s probing eyes.
The way he looked at her had her feeling a certain way about the male. She didn’t want to put a name to the emotion. He might be hot, but he was dangerous. And she was done with dangerous werewolves. She wanted someone safe.
Right now a relationship would have to wait. Her love life was officially on the back burner.
“You know I always love to see you, dear.” Mrs. Willis tapped the floor with her cane as she shuffled into the living room. “Shelly came and cleaned yesterday. It wasn’t her normal day, but she said she needed some extra money for school clothes so I let her.”
Catty gritted her teeth. Shelly was Mrs. Willis’s granddaughter. She’d met her a few times. She’d come over once while Catty was visiting and asked her grandmother for money. With dark hair and blue eyes, Shelly was attractive and knew how to dress to accentuate her body. She didn’t have any tattoos or piercings and seemed nice enough. But there was something about the girl Catty didn’t trust.
When she found out Shelly was cleaning Mrs. Willis’s house for money, she’d made a point of checking out the furniture and floors when she came over. While the floors had been swept and stuff picked up, it was evident no deep cleaning had been done. Nothing had been dusted, the toilets hadn’t been cleaned, and the rugs had not been vacuumed. She didn’t want to worry Mrs. Willis with her suspicions of a lazy girl, so she kept her mouth shut.
“Is she still liking school?” She tried to keep her tone casual as Mrs. Willis shuffled over in the direction of her rocking chair. Catty gently laid her hand on the woman’s arm to escort her.
“She’s doing fine. She says her classes are going well.” Mrs. Willis eased into the rocker that had been in her family for generations. And although it squeaked like a mouse, she said she loved it and had no reason to get another.
“You’re up mighty early. Did you have to work last night?” Mrs. Willis asked.
Catty worried her lip with her teeth at the mention of her job. She’d lied to Mrs. Willis when she’d asked what she did for a living. She knew what the woman’s reaction would have been if she found out she was a stripper. So instead she’d told her she worked at a convenience store.
“I do worry about you working so late at night. Crime gets bad in the city at night when people think God ain’t watching. But believe me, God is always watching.”
Catty’s stomach twisted. That was what she was afraid of.
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I would pop in and see if you needed me to do anything for you.”
“How sweet of you. You know, Shelly can run errands for me, but lately she’s been in a hurry when she drops by. There’s no time for a proper visit.” She shook her head and rested her cane against her knee.
“I’m sure she’s just busy.” Busy with what, she wasn’t real sure.
“How about I fix you a cup of tea?” Catty stood before she could be waved off.
“You’re so sweet, dear. Thank you.”
She walked into the kitchen and frowned when she saw the state of the cabinets. They were all open and the dishes inside disturbed. Not the way Mrs. Willis usually liked her tidy kitchen.
She quickly filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove. She turned on the heat and then turned her attention back to the cabinets. She went to the first one and straightened the dishes as quietly as possible.
“Are you finding everything okay, Catty?”
“Yes, ma’am. Getting your pretty china,” she lied.
After straightening the set of plates, she closed the cabinet and moved to the next one. Immediately she spied the blue and white china pattern. The intricate pattern was no knockoff, and she knew the set must have been in Mrs. Willis’s family for years. It had to be valuable. Catty was always worried someone would break in and steal it and hurt Mrs. Willis in the process.
The kettle whistled as she finished setting the cabinets to rights. She set two cups and saucers on the counter and found the tea canister and pulled out two tea bags.
She poured the hot water over the bags and watched as the water turned light brown. She opened the cabinet to pull out the silver tray.
It wasn’t there. Maybe it had gotten moved when Shelly cleaned.
She found a wooden tray instead and set the cups down. She grabbed some lemon cookies she found in the pantry and placed them on the tray as well.
“Here we go.” Catty smiled as she set the tray down on the coffee table.
She passed a cup and saucer to Mrs. Willis before taking her seat on the couch and placing her saucer and tea cup on her lap.
“Ah, cookies too. You’re such a dear, Catty. Your mother must be so proud to have such a lady like you.”
She flinched. Her mother would be anything but proud.
“So tell me what really brings you here today.” Mrs. Willis took a sip of her tea as a smile settled around her wrinkled lips. “I may not see so well, but I know when a girl is having some man problems. You, my dear girl, are having some man problems. Wanna tell me his name?”
Chapter Ten
“Son of a bitch.” Barrett threw the package across the room and curled his fingers into tightly coiled fists. His heart pounded as rage swelled in his gut.
He knew without opening it what the box held. The coppery scent of blood permeated the room and sent anger raging through his veins.
His gaze searched the room before landing on the stained piece of paper sitting on his desk. It had been taped to the outside of the package that had been delivered via the FedEx man, who’d left in a hurry after Barrett gave him a fuck off look. The delivery man had been human and he had no idea of the horrific contents the box held.
He glanced down at the barely legible scrawl.
“Your wolves will pay for your arrogance, Barrett. Make no mistake about that. I will skin each Guardian until there are none left.”
The inside of the box held a hand. He could only guess it was Heimy’s.
His mind raced as he tried to think who would be behind such a horrendous act. He knew as Pack Master he certainly pissed off a lot of Weres, but there was nothing that demanded this type of retribution.
A heavy knock landed on the door. Before he could tell whoever it was to go to hell, the door swung open and Jaxon stepped through.
Jaxon must have caught the look on Barrett’s face because he stopped short. His brows knit together and his nostrils flared as he caught the faint scent of blood.
“Did someone die in here?”
“Not yet,” Barrett snarled.
“Maybe.”
“If he needs help, then send me.” Jaxon lifted his chin as if preparing for Barrett’s wrath.
“He doesn’t need help. He’s fine on his own.” Barrett turned back to the Pack Master seal that covered the wall. Serve and protect. That was what the Guardians did. They laid down their life for their civilian Weres. So who was going to lay down their life for the Guardians?
The whole thing made him mad as hell.
“I know you sent him on a mission and he wouldn’t say shit to me about where he was going. But if he’s in trouble, then tell me so I can help him.”
Barrett rounded on the younger Were and snatched him up by the collar of his T-shirt. Hauling him off the ground, he held him at eye level.
“Don’t try to tell me how to do my job, Jaxon. You forget your place.” Adrenaline cascaded through his body. His muscles twitched, aching to punch something until it bled.
“Easy, man,” Jaxon said calmly.
He had to hand it to Jaxon. He didn’t try to act like a pussy when he was in his cross hairs. Nor did he beg.
Barrett blinked, released his grip, and stepped back. His gut twisted with regret. He’d never laid a hand on any of his Guardians, ever.
“My bad, boss.” Jaxon nodded his head but didn’t back up. “I shouldn’t have overstepped my boundaries.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I’m worried about Lucien.”
“I know.” Barrett’s hardened gaze landed on the package. He was worried about his Guardian too. But Jaxon didn’t need to know that.
“I’ll let you know when I need you, Jaxon.”
Jaxon nodded and looked as if he was about to say something else and then thought better of it. Without another word, the Were slipped out the door.
Barrett had to handle this correctly, had to keep things quiet. He wasn't going to let one more of his men get hurt because he’d managed to piss off some psycho.