Dog Eat Dog World: Limited Edition Bundle (Black Dog)

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Dog Eat Dog World: Limited Edition Bundle (Black Dog) Page 172

by Hailey Edwards


  Chapter 3

  Sawdust tickled my nose as I stepped out of my RV onto my new front porch. Not bad for a day’s work. Now I had a nicer perch for my dollar-store lawn chair…which was occupied by an uninvited guest for the second time today. I’d figured I would meet Enzo in the parking lot. I guess he had other ideas.

  The witch had made himself at home, elbows braced on his knees while he fiddled with a cluster of vines that slithered over his fingers. In honor of our undate, he had added a gray button-down shirt to his ensemble and topped off the look with a wide black leather belt in the same satin finish as his boots.

  God save me from fashion plates.

  I, on the other hand, wore jeans and a fresh tee with Target-brand labels sewn into their hems. My tennis shoes had seen better days, but they were comfortable, damn it. Besides, you could barely see the hole at the left toe.

  A gust of cool air sent gooseflesh racing up my spine, over the back of my damp shirt, and I eased closer to Enzo in the hopes he would catch the hint and we could get someplace warmer. The mountain air chilled once the sun went down, and my teeth itched to start chattering.

  A quick shower had been a necessity to remove all the grime from the hours of labor, but I’d cut it too close to seven and had no time to tame the damp hairs curling around my face in a curtain as clingy as the vines wrangling with Enzo’s fingers.

  Forehead puckered in neat lines, the witch kept toying with the serpentine tangle on his lap. As attentive as he usually was, I doubted he knew I was standing there.

  With practiced ease, I twisted my hair into a high bun and secured it with a leather strap. “What do you have there?”

  “Hmm?” He detangled the knot, strand by strand, until he was left with one long vine.

  Amused by his utter absorption, I couldn’t resist the urge to poke fun at him, despite my wolf warning me I was grabbing a tiger by the tail. “Are you done fondling that thing, or should I come back in five?”

  That got his attention. His head snapped up, and his lips parted in instant denial before breaking into a grin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.” He brought his hands to his mouth and blew across the vines, which hardened into a lump he tossed over his shoulder. “New spell,” he said by way of explanation. “I haven’t ironed out all the kinks yet.”

  Eyeballing the castoff lump where it sat, I had to ask, “Is it safe to leave that thing there? It won’t climb through my window at night and strangle me or anything, will it?”

  “Yes, it’s safe.” He chuckled until he got a look at my face. “I— Sorry. I should have asked if you minded me practicing on your property.”

  Magic and I got along fine, as long as it stayed on its side of the yard and I stayed on mine. Watching Enzo practice left a bad taste in my mouth. I had seen him and his brother use wargs as test subjects for experimental spells, discarding them when they were done with just as much blithe disregard as he had shown those vines. I had seen him use Cord that way, back when he was the Chandler beta and Bessemer’s word was law. Our old alpha had let the Garzas use his pack like guinea pigs, and all the Lorimar wargs bore those scars. All of them except me.

  Most days I waffled between gratefulness that Cord had protected me from their testing and nausea over what he had suffered on my behalf.

  “It’s fine.” I rubbed my arms to rid the memories of finding Cord strapped to a metal table, barely breathing, blood dribbling down his chin. Miguel had stood aside, making his endless notations on a clipboard and being about as useful as a bump on a pickle. “Just maybe no more spells on my porch, okay?”

  “You’ve seen me at my worst.” His lips twisted into a grimace. “Maybe the wards can be a step toward my atonement.”

  I bit my lip, not at all sure I had seen the worst. Certain, however, that what I had witnessed was bad enough.

  Making amends implied a major lifestyle change that included severing ties with his brother. Call me crazy, but I didn’t see that happening. The Garzas were a package deal. Coven witches were stronger than solo practitioners. Breaking with Miguel meant both brothers would kiss their super witchy powers—and the astronomical prices their services commanded—goodbye.

  “We should get going.” I took the stairs and started toward the parking lot, leaving him to play catch-up. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” I injected false cheer into my voice. “Wait much longer and I might start gnawing on your leg.”

  We arrived at the gravel lot by the rental office without incident, but Zed stepped from the trees to intercept me before I reached the sporty rental that stuck out like a sore thumb among the pack’s weathered pickups. The flat stare he shot Enzo had the witch continuing on to his car to give us privacy.

  “What’s up?” I crossed to him and rested my hand on his bare forearm. Touch is a requirement for wargs. It soothes a great many hurts that words fail to ease, and Zed required more than most. “You been sucking on lemons again?” Another thought occurred to me, and I tightened my grip. “Did you miss out on the property?”

  “No. We bought the place, God help us both.” His gaze narrowed past my shoulder, eyes flashing gold. “I heard Enzo was here.” He rubbed the spiderwebbed scar tissue across his throat on reflex, the result of an experiment gone wrong. “I don’t like the idea of you going off alone with him.”

  “I’ll be careful,” I promised, “but I have to play nice. Thierry brought him here on Cord’s recommendation. That means Cord thinks we can handle Enzo, or he wouldn’t have suggested him.”

  Zed would cut off a finger before speaking out against the alpha, but his jaw bulged with the urge to argue the point.

  “We need all the allies we can rally.” I gave him a quick shake. “We can’t afford to make enemies of the Garzas. Not when so many of us have family in the Chandler pack. Visitation is already sticky enough without Bessemer learning one of his witches has defected.”

  “He’s here for you,” Zed insisted, stubborn to the core. “I don’t give a damn what he says. The Garzas don’t need more money or more contacts. They don’t need to do the conclave any favors. What brought Enzo here is the one thing he wants that he can’t have.”

  “You said it yourself.” I stepped back. “He can’t have me.”

  Zed huffed, appearing mollified. “Does he know that?”

  “I told him I’m happy being single, yes.” Though I should have pointed out his snowball was melting while I had the chance. I had let him hope, and that was a mistake I would have to woman-up and rectify soon. Stringing him along until he wrapped up his job and then dropping the hammer on his heart would be pure cowardice. “Tonight is a one-time deal. Don’t worry.”

  “Just remember what he’s capable of,” Zed rumbled.

  As if I would ever forget. “I doubt that’s going to be a problem.”

  “Dell?” Enzo inquired from a respectful distance. “If you need to cancel…”

  “I’ll be right there,” I assured him, turning back to Zed. “I’ll be home before it’s time to hunt.”

  “You’re off tonight, remember?” A calculating gleam lit his eyes. “Besides, you’re right. About the diplomacy thing.” He gripped my shoulders, spun me on my heels and nudged me toward Enzo. “Enjoy your dinner. Make sure you stay for dessert.”

  Somehow knowing Zed figured I was more of a danger to myself than Enzo wasn’t comforting.

  Catching my balance, I shot a glare over my shoulder. Zed was halfway to the trees, and if he felt my eyes on his back, he gave no sign. Traitor. I crunched my way toward Enzo and linked my fingers in front of me.

  “You don’t have to come out tonight if you don’t want to.” Enzo shoved his hands into his pockets. “We can do this another night or not at all if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  The offer was loaded whether he meant it to be or not. There was no mistaking the tenor of Zed’s words as anything but a warning, even if Enzo hadn’t heard them. He was a smart guy and not half as socially unaware as his brother. There was
n’t a wolf in the Lorimar pack except for me that he hadn’t drugged, spelled, charmed or otherwise magicked in the name of finding a cure for wargism. Never mind that wargs were born and not made. All a bite from one of us did was hurt like a mother. Needless to say, he didn’t have many fans of the four-legged persuasion.

  “Zed is a worrywart.” Truth. “He knows I just got out of a bad relationship,” I fudged. More like a victim of a hit-and-run. “He wants to make sure I don’t do anything that might hurt me…or you…later.”

  “You had a boyfriend?” He hurled the question at me, a stone skipping across the surface of a still pond.

  Not exactly. “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” His self-deprecating laugh jarred me. “I would have left you alone if I’d known.” He drew himself up taller. “I’m not that guy. I don’t bust up relationships, and I like to think I don’t linger where I’m not wanted.”

  Faint music drifted from the park to cover the expectant silence full of things I didn’t want to say.

  I’m not ashamed to admit I liked the way Enzo flirted with me, how he was so polite when males of my own species tended not to be. Before Lorimar was formed, before I was able to fight for my place under an alpha worth following, I had been acting the part of the submissive. I had done things in that role that haunted me. Things that made me want to scrub myself with steel wool then rinse off in rubbing alcohol.

  Moore had been one of those things. He wasn’t a bad guy, not abusive or cruel, just entitled. I hadn’t been in a good headspace for a long time before he started creeping into my bed on lonely nights, a right assumed by many dominant wolves when it came to submissive pack mates unable to say no and mean it. Rebuffing his advances would have proven my strength and tipped my hand to Bessemer, who had only allowed my return to the fold on his sufferance.

  Every time I looked at Moore, I saw a loss of choice, a loss of self. He was a glaring reminder of my own weakness, a mirror held to my face reflecting my mother’s history repeating. Most of the time, I was pretty sure it wasn’t him I hated with such acid-churning vehemence. No, I was pretty sure that honor was reserved for myself.

  That’s why, in the early days of the Garzas’ pact with Bessemer, Enzo’s flirtations had been a welcome reprieve in a life that had been more bitter than sweet. His persistence had paid off. I had intended to say yes the next time he asked me to dinner, a movie, whatever. But that was before Bessemer ordered me out to the Garza homestead, before I found Cord strapped to that stainless table bleeding for the first time, before I understood that fate had played yet another trick on me.

  A white knight Enzo wasn’t, and I had so hoped he might rescue me. That was before life taught me if I needed saving, I had to do it myself.

  “It was complicated” seemed like the best answer, weak as it was, so I ran with it.

  With a tight nod, Enzo escorted me to his car. He even held the door for me. I breathed in the rich scents of new leather and expensive cologne, which even my wolf grudgingly appreciated. The infotainment screen lit with a welcome message. Ambient lighting glowed to life in the floorboards, along the doors and in the console, and I gawked at bells and whistles that would have been more at home on a spaceship than a leisure vehicle. A soft purr shocked me into realizing he had cranked the engine with his key fob.

  Lord have mercy, this was nice. Only a quick reminder of how he had paid for his wheels kept me from swooning.

  Enzo slid into the driver’s seat and did a double take in my direction, as if he couldn’t believe I was really sitting there, like he was shocked I hadn’t bolted during the few seconds it took him to join me. “So… What’s good?”

  “There’s a pizza joint, a Chinese place, a Waffle Iron that serves breakfast twenty-four seven, and there’s a Mexican restaurant that serves Italian on Wednesdays, cupcakes, and sells candied bacon by the pound.” That last bit earned me a raised eyebrow. “The owner’s a hob, one of the few fae left in town. Everything he serves is delicious, but there’s no rhyme or reason to the menu.”

  Within seventy-two hours of the rift opening, Tim, the hob, had introduced himself to the pack. He’d heard it was open season on fae and didn’t want us confusing him or his family with “bad” fae. I respected his commitment to the community and admired his willingness to stick it out for as long as was safe.

  A hesitant expression seized Enzo. “What do you recommend?”

  “The Cantina has excellent guac.” The endorsement was honest, but ribbing him proved to be a temptation I couldn’t resist. Enzo wearing his fancy shirt, driving his fast car, and eating at a restaurant that couldn’t decide its nationality, let alone whether it was sweet or savory, tickled me. “Unless one of the other options appeals?”

  “I trust your taste,” he said with a straight face. “The Cantina it is.”

  After adjusting my seat to accommodate my long legs, I strapped in and enjoyed the smooth ride. Good thing cops were few and far between, since he treated the posted speed limits as laughable suggestions.

  “Well, shoot.” We parked at the curb outside of a squat brick building with stucco tossed on in creative patches that might have looked southwestern in design if you stood on your head, stuck out your tongue and squinted at it. “The Cantina never closes early.” I pushed open my door and stepped onto the sidewalk. “I hope nothing’s wrong with Tim or the brood.”

  The hotel manager’s warning popped into my head. Perhaps an electrical issue was to blame.

  Enzo followed after his car chirped, lights flashing, as it locked.

  A sign taped to the glass hung on by one corner dispelled my weather theory. Tilting my head, I read it out loud. “Out of beef.” I cupped my hands and peered inside the dim restaurant. “That’s a thing? How do you run out of beef?” And why did that prevent him from cooking chicken, pork or fish? I might have started out wanting to torment Enzo a skosh, but I’d had time for my stomach to decide it wanted one of the lemon meringue cupcakes Tim’s wife baked fresh each morning. “Guess you’ll have to be introduced to hob cuisine some other time.”

  The tension washed out of Enzo’s shoulders. “How do you feel about pizza?”

  “I can do pizza” is what I said. What I meant was “I can be merciful.”

  Leaving the car behind, we strolled down one block and over another. The two eateries might be on opposite ends of the main drag, but that wasn’t saying much in a town the size of Butler. Neon lights curved into garish pizza pies greeted us at the front door of The Pie Barn. I held the door for Enzo like the gentlewoman I wasn’t, and led him to my favorite booth. The one in the back near the emergency exit. The barn employed only one waitress I’d ever met, and she was old enough to be my grandmother.

  The sight of Peggy sashaying toward us sent a pang of longing for Meemaw rocketing through me, though the two looked nothing alike. My grandmother lacked the shellacked blond beehive hairdo for starters, and she had never worn an indecently short pair of black shorts in her life. On Peggy, even the polo shirt embroidered with the restaurant’s logo managed to be provocative. Blame it on the top being unbuttoned all the way and the fit three sizes too small. That didn’t take into account her love of platform heels, either. The glossy black numbers she wore today reminded me of polished horse hooves.

  “Hello, gorgeous.” Matte lipstick a hair away from being orange bled into the cracks of her lips, which split into a wide grin when her gaze landed on Enzo. Sparing me a fraction of her attention, she nodded. “Hey, Dell.” Zooming her focus back to Enzo, she leaned a frail hip against the table. “What can I do for you?”

  Taking refuge behind the menu, he gave his options serious consideration. “I’ll take a small sausage and onion pie with a Pepsi.”

  “Small sausage?” She winked at him, not that he could see her. “Sure you don’t want to make that a large?” She plucked the menu from his fingers, her three-inch-long Creamsicle-orange nails brushing his hand. “Bigger is better, hon.”

&nbs
p; Mottled red splashed his cheeks as he forced a smile. “I don’t want to bite off more than I can chew.”

  “Oh, come on. Live a little.” She leaned forward, flashing him an impressive amount of cleavage considering she wore a polo shirt with a measly two buttons. The view made me wonder what brand of pushup bra she was modeling. “You’re young. You can have anything you want.” She gave her shoulders a wiggle. “I do mean anything.”

  Gone was the confident witch. In his place sat a young man eyeing the display window like an action movie star prepping for a stunt jump through the glass. What can I say? I’m a sucker. I took pity on him. “Peggy, he’s with me.”

  “Girl, you’ve already got all those other young bucks chasing after you.” She jabbed me in the shoulder with her pen. “Can’t I have this one?”

  The young bucks in question were my pack mates, not my boyfriends, but we did go to town in pairs often. Great. The locals probably thought I was some kind of floozy. Then again, that would explain the discount I got on groceries last week. I couponed like a pro, but I had argued over the total with Mr. Simmons, insisting I owed more, and still lost. I’d also found a blank receipt with his phone number in the bottom of the bag.

  Ugh. Men were such…men.

  “Sorry.” I placed my hand over his, which was larger than it looked and less manicured than I expected. “This one’s mine.”

  Jumping into the narrative with both feet, Enzo linked his fingers with mine. I didn’t get the impression he was pushing my limits as much as he was grasping the lifeline I had tossed him.

  “Oh, to be young and gorgeous again.” She sighed dreamily, gaze distant. “You want your usual?”

  “Yes, please.” I waited until she was halfway to the kitchen. “Peggy? You’re still one hot piece of ass.”

  Enzo choked on his own spit, eyes rounding with dire urgency not to make a sound that might draw her loving attention.

 

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