by MJ Compton
A man’s father was different. A man wanted his father to respect him, and with a shudder of shame, Luke realized there was nothing respectable about what he’d done in the past. The only saving grace was that those activities had given him the skills, the tools he needed to help track down the pervert who’d fucked up his wife’s life. Who was still trying to fuck up his sister-in-law’s life. No matter how annoyed he was at Libby, she was still a kid and didn’t deserve the things that had been done to her by the mysterious Uncle Dougie.
Luke typed in the FBI-created password so his father could see exactly what was on the screen—not Gail’s Bedroom, but an album of thumbnail sized photos of women and girls in various poses.
“Why would anyone want to look at this?” Dad asked.
“If you don’t consider the people posing, it’s easy to pretend you’re all consenting adults,” Luke replied.
“Why you?”
Luke shrugged. “Human taint.”
“Only one quarter. Less than I am. I’ve never . . . this is beyond my ability to understand.”
“Then you’re the lucky one.” Luke’s fists clenched at his side. “Me, not so much. Although a month ago you wouldn’t have heard me say that.” He gestured at the screen. “Even now, there’s a little thrill . . .”
“Did you really find pictures of Abigail?”
Nothing like thrusting a knife into his chest and twisting it while still plunging. “Yeah.”
“And Libby?”
“Not yet. My guess is that they are there. My job isn’t to find the pictures, but to find the people behind the pictures.”
And kill them.
His father knew what he was thinking, even if Mitchell Jasper was clueless.
“You know, I wouldn’t mind helping you.” And his father didn’t mean surfing the net.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Abby clutched her neck. “It stopped for a while, but the pain is back.”
The crowd had dwindled to only Colette, Granny, and Abby.
“Was Libby so very awful today?” Colette asked.
“She gave me a fright,” Abby admitted. “She was being difficult before that—she resented the doctor visit, so she wanted her ears pierced, but Luke said no, so she–well, she has issues. I need to see about starting her on her ADHD medication again. That helps.” One more reason to resent being stuck in Loup Garou.
“Libby doesn’t like being told no,” Colette clarified. “Don’t get me wrong. I loved having her, but she really needs a firm hand.”
“The worst part was when she disappeared. In the mall. After last night, I thought for sure—”
“Ancient Ones,” Colette exclaimed. “That can’t have been good for the baby.”
“A woman from our church in Oak Moon was at the mall and saw Libby and invited her to the food court for something to drink.”
“And the woman from the church didn’t stop to think that maybe an eleven year old girl wouldn’t be in a mall over one hundred miles from home by herself?” Colette asked.
“She thought Libby had run away. It turned out okay. We’ve known Mrs. MacDougal forever. But Luke got really weird about her. I mean freaky weird. Claims Mrs. MacDougal wears so much perfume to hide her true aroma.”
Colette and Granny sat up from their slumped positions at the table.
“Really?” Colette asked in a soft voice.
Abby nodded. “He also said she wears so much makeup in order to hide her beard. That Mrs. MacDougal is really a man. And from there, he went from MacDougal to Dougie.”
“It’s not such a leap,” Granny said. “Except I’m the only old human lady Luke’s ever been around. I remember plenty of post-menopausal sapien women who once they lose that estrogen need to invest in electrolysis.”
“Well, it upset Libby even more than being reprimanded for taking off without letting us know where she was going.”
Abby told Colette and Granny the rest of what had happened, including their clandestine meeting with “that FBI guy.”
“So I guess Mrs. MacDougal is being investigated,” Abby concluded.
“How terrifying for you. Libby needs to learn that kind of behavior can’t be tolerated,” Colette said. “It’s not safe for anyone. Libby isn’t the only one with secrets.”
Abby didn’t think Libby had any secrets. Not after the doctor visit.
“And how did the doctor visit go?” Colette asked, almost as if reading Abby’s mind.
“I don’t know if I’m supposed to discuss it,” Abby said. How did Colette even know about the examination? Whatever happened to patient confidentiality? “It was easier than I thought it would be. Her situation could have been worse.”
Colette sighed. “She’s such a little thing. I suppose if there’s something to be grateful for in this situation, that would get my vote. I don’t understand it, like I don’t understand Luke’s preoccupation with mating.”
“It’s a human thing,” Granny admitted. “Especially in America. One of the reasons I like living in Loup Garou is because sex isn’t a nasty thrill, but a matter-of-fact part of life. Women’s breasts are for feeding babies, not titillating men. Werewolf men don’t need titillating.”
“At least you raised Marcus right,” Colette said. “I didn’t do such a great job with Luke.”
“Luke is meant for other things,” Granny said. “I think that’s why he’s so . . . headstrong.”
Colette made a sound of impatience. “You know I don’t like all your human mumbo jumbo. It makes me uncomfortable.”
“And what do you think your Ancient Ones are?” Granny retorted.
Colette rolled her eyes and was about to respond when the sound of a vehicle parking next to the house distracted her. “That’s Marcus’s car.”
A moment later both Marcus and Luke entered the room. A laptop case was slung across Luke’s shoulder.
“What’s this about?” Luke asked. “Dad insisted I pack up my work and bring it here for the rest of the night. Are you okay, Abs?”
Abby nodded. She hadn’t felt a pain in her neck in several minutes. “Tired. That’s all.”
Luke dropped his laptop case to the floor and stood behind Abby. He started massaging her shoulders. “I’ve read growing a baby is exhausting work. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
Abby moaned. His hands working the tense muscles of her back felt so good. She arched into his fingers. He acted as if he’d gotten over his earlier anger with Libby.
“Luke was working, like Abby said,” Marcus said. “But Mom, you might be on to something.”
Granny pursed her lips and nodded. “I’ve heard rumors. Delilah Garnier, who’s as human as I am, tells a story that raises the hair on my nape. About being hundreds of miles away from Tokarz and smelling smoke when he was trapped in a barn fire.”
“I was in that fire,” Luke said. “What does that have to do with anything?” His thumb found a particularly tight spot on Abby’s left shoulder and dug into the muscle. “Ancient Ones, Abs, you’re in knots.”
“I want to try an experiment,” Granny explained. “Boot up your laptop and get to work.”
“Here?” His hands left Abby’s shoulders, exposing them to the weight of burdens not hers to bear, not when he was supposed to protect her. “I can’t work here.”
“It’s only for a few minutes,” Granny said. “Sit opposite Abigail at the table.”
“You don’t have WiFi.”
“Nonsense. I’ve got satellite TV. Macy hooked your desktop up to the Internet. You’re savvy enough to do the same.”
“Why?”
“You’re never around when Abigail starts getting pains in her neck. Makes me wonder why.”
“I’m not around a lot when Abby does a lot
of things.”
Like feeling the baby move for the first time.
“Humor your old Granny.”
He pulled out the chair across from Abby. The wooden legs squealed as they scraped across the vinyl floor.
No one said anything, but he could feel every eye on him as he worked on getting the laptop tapped into Granny’s satellite. His fingers flew across the keyboard. As Granny had promised, Macy had forged a pathway from Granny’s satellite to the Internet. Another couple of minutes later, Chenz was signed in to an X-rated chat room, where the URLs of particular sites where being hinted at.
He made certain no one was standing behind him. The females of his family didn’t need to see this part of his life.
Someone on the page had written something about “doggie style” so Luke clicked on the provided link. Whoa. Not even werewolves did that. He would never be able to unsee that. Even he had never—he quickly clicked out of the room.
Perspiration beaded on his forehead. Granny always kept her house—especially the kitchen—far too warm. He rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt. Wiped his brow with his forearm.
Who’d have thought working for the FBI would be such a public thing?
He popped onto another page, Sweet Young Things, and scrolled through the thumbnails. He really didn’t want to open one, but his family watched closely, expecting who knew what.
Oh. That girl was lovely.
“Ouch!” Abby clamped her hand on the side of her throat.
Luke abandoned his laptop and leapt over the table. “What? What is it? Is it the baby?”
“This is work?” Colette asked, her voice a squeak, as she turned the computer and peered at the screen. “Luke Thibodaux Omega. This is revolting.”
“Colette,” Marcus said with a warning note in his tone.
“Abs, what’s going on?” Luke asked.
“It hurts,” she whimpered.
Luke pulled her hand away and peered at the tender, pale flesh. He couldn’t see anything.
“It doesn’t hurt now,” Abby said.
“Because Luke’s not looking at pictures of other women and thinking about sex with them,” Granny announced.
“I wasn’t thinking about having sex with them.” Granny was getting senile. His fingers caressed the spot Abby claimed had hurt. He liked kissing that spot, and if there hadn’t been an audience of his parents and grandmothers he might have nuzzled Abby a little bit. A little nuzzling never hurt anyone.
“That’s her marking spot,” Granny said. “I think you marked her without even realizing it.”
Luke straightened. “I think I would have known if I’d marked my mate.”
Abby couldn’t be his mate. Couldn’t. Because a mate was supposed to help a male reach his full potential, and Luke’s goal was reclaiming the Thibodaux name and heritage. There was nothing Abby could do to assist with that. Otherwise, he wouldn’t think twice. He liked her. A lot. The taste and smell of her drove him out of his mind. He loved sex with her. He couldn’t wait until Rosie Dawn was born, and he was a father.
The erectile dysfunction meds had turned out to be a real bad idea. They confused everyone into believing Abby was his mate.
“Then explain this pain she has in her marking spot whenever you lust after other females?” Granny asked.
He looked around the table at the well-loved faces. His parents clearly believed Granny’s crackpot theory. What did they want from him? An admission of something he hadn’t done? Wouldn’t he know if Abigail was his mate? The mating instinct was never wrong. That’s what he’d been taught from adolescence. That’s what he’d witnessed, even the times when he would have sworn the coupling impossible, as with Tokarz and Delilah or Stoker and Lucy.
Stoker and Lucy. Luke had been with Stoker the night his front paw became unusable due to a mysterious pain. They’d been trying to dig under a stockade fence to rescue an imprisoned Lucy, when Stoker had had to stop. And when comparing notes later, they’d learned that was the same moment Lucy’s captor had smashed her hand with a gunstock in order to steal her diamond engagement ring.
This wasn’t the same thing at all. Was it?
Except he was hard. He almost always had an erection when he was around Abby. As if she was his mate. Maybe he had bitten her the night of the picnic. Being inside her had knocked him senseless for a while.
“Don’t worry about it,” Abby said in a low, calm voice. “Your grandmother only wants you to do right by me. She’s been among werewolves so long she’s forgotten that by human standards, you already have.”
Abby pushed away from the table. Stood. Her head was high, balanced by her chin. She brushed the stubble on his cheek with her cool lips “Good night, Luke. Granny, Colette, Marcus.”
The only sound in the kitchen after Abby left was the hum of the refrigerator and the muted ticking of the clock Granny insisted on having. Everyone stared at him. Luke did not have time for this. He glared at Granny and his dad, and then sat in front of the laptop again. “If you don’t mind, I need to get back to work.”
“Do you want a lift back to your place?” his father asked.
That would have been the thing to do, but for some reason, he didn’t want to leave Abby. Not tonight. She’d been gracious to him after he’d been a total jerk to her earlier. He simply wanted to be with her. Needed to be close to her.
Chapter 21
Abby awoke with Luke’s arms flung across her torso. His erection was pressed against her bottom. She hadn’t heard him come to bed and wasn’t happy he felt he was welcome there.
Abby extracted herself and wandered into the kitchen, where she found Granny dishing out oatmeal to Libby and Macy.
“How are you feeling this morning?” Granny asked.
“Like I haven’t had enough sleep. Macy, could I ask a huge favor of you? Would you mind driving Libby and me to Oak Moon today?”
Libby’s eyes lit.
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Granny asked. “As far as I know, your stepfather’s murderer hasn’t been caught.”
“It’s broad daylight.”
“When most self-respecting werewolves are sleeping,” Macy added.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Macy laughed. “Your bodyguards are resting.”
“Bodyguards?”
“Luke asked Tokarz for extra protection for both you and your sister as soon as he found out what was going on. That’s who scared off the intruder at Marcus’s house the other night.”
“It wasn’t an intruder,” Libby said. “It was Uncle Dougie, coming to get me. He misses me.”
Abby forced herself to ignore Libby. She had to, for her sanity. “Libby and I have things we need to do in Oak Moon. That’s our home. That’s where our friends are. That’s where our parents are buried. Everyone thinks we’re holed up in Loup Garou. We’ll be fine.”
“Can we visit Mama’s and Daddy’s graves?” Libby asked.
Abby didn’t know how werewolves felt about venerating their dead ancestors, but she was getting a clue as to how important living family was to them. Maybe Macy would respect her need to visit the cemetery.
“I have plans today,” Macy said, “but I know someone who might be free to go with you.” She exchanged a look with her mother, a look Abby couldn’t interpret, but did not like.
Restin Garnier stared at Abby with crazy blue eyes; eyes as big as a cold January morning.
Macy hadn’t done her any favors by contacting the pack beta to escort her and Libby to Oak Moon, but Abby couldn’t back out now.
Restin didn’t speak a single word to Abby or Libby as he drove down the mountain. Libby was bubbly enough for everyone in the Grand Cherokee.
The family headstone had been updated with the dat
e of their mother’s death. Joseph and Tina Grant. Daughters Tabitha and Gabriella. All the deaths, etched there in stone. Digger Sendall was fast and thorough.
“We forgot flowers,” Libby said.
Abby didn’t remind her they had no money to purchase flowers; besides, it was October. Flowers wouldn’t last long enough to justify their purchase.
Mama, I’m in over my head. I don’t know what to do. I thought I was protecting Libby from Gary, but he played all of us for a fool. Give me a sign, Mama. Give me a sign about what I’m supposed to do. Please.
Restin stayed with the Jeep while Libby and Abby studied the markers. Aspen leaves rattled like bones in the wind, both overhead and scuttling around their ankles. He opened the car door for them when they were ready to leave, and didn’t argue when Abby directed him to the little house on Silver Moon Terrace.
Yellow crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze. It never occurred to Abby that she and Libby might not be able to go inside. This was their home.
“It’s like a TV show,” Libby said.
“Was it bad inside?” Abby asked Restin.
He avoided a direct answer. “You can hire cleaners when the feds are done.”
Something else requiring money she didn’t have.
The mailbox was empty, which couldn’t be right. On the other hand, the postman couldn’t cross the yellow tape any more than she could. “What about the mail?” She didn’t want to miss something important—maybe the pornographers mailed checks to Gary for his services. She didn’t know. Gary had always picked up the mail.
“We can stop by the post office and see if they’re holding it for you.” Restin’s dark, shoulder-length curls blew into his face. He swiped at them with impatient hands.