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

by Hailey Edwards

Peggy fluffed her hair and cocked one hip. “Right?”

  She strutted through the double doors, which was all that saved her from hearing his near-death experience as his lungs forced him to grab oxygen. Lucky guy. Had she been there, she would have offered mouth-to-mouth.

  “Sorry.” He withdrew his hand from mine before I got the chance to be uncomfortable. “And thank you.” His gaze drifted toward the kitchen. “I’m pretty sure I owe you my life.”

  “Yeah, Peggy is a real man-eater.” I chuckled under my breath. “So how are things back, um, not home?”

  Most of my life had been lived in and around the Villanow, Georgia area. Tennessee was where I hung my hat now, because it was where the pack was needed most, but a part of me still had Georgia on my mind.

  “Meemaw is well.”

  I flinched out of my thoughts. “I’m that obvious?”

  “She’s family, and she’s not here with you.” He kept a wary focus on the kitchen doorway. “You’ve got to be missing her.”

  “More than I ever thought possible.” I glanced away while my eyes prickled. “It’s too dangerous for her up here, and yes. She would bend me over her knee if she knew that’s why I keep putting off her visits.” I studied him as the implications of his comment struck me. “How do you know she’s well?”

  “She sees Miguel for her arthritis now.”

  Ice water sloshed in my veins, and a growl built behind my chest. The last thing I wanted to hear was that Miguel had been treating my grandmother, even if he was more qualified than most pack doctors thanks to his years of experimentation on wargs.

  “I drive her to and from her appointments myself. I sit with her the whole time. Miguel only treats her ailments with known remedies, nothing experimental. I swear it.” Enzo linked his hands on the table and stared at them. “Abram left, and she had no one to turn to, so she turned to me.”

  And he had taken on the burden of caring for Meemaw, which should have been my privilege, except I wasn’t there.

  Abram leaving the old pack to join ours was bound to have repercussions, I got that, but I had assumed Bessemer would cash in a favor and get another doctor transplanted to his pack since the Chandler wargs numbered in the hundreds.

  That he hadn’t replaced Abram yet sat uneasy with me. Or maybe that was the debt I now owed Enzo making me squirm.

  “Thank you.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “She didn’t breathe a word of it to me.”

  He massaged a wrinkle in the red-and-white checkered tablecloth with a finger. “She probably didn’t want you to worry.”

  “I’m sorry for doubting your good intentions.” I managed a laugh. “We seem to be saying that a lot.”

  “Miguel and I haven’t given you much reason to trust us.” His lips pressed into a flat line. “I understand why you’re concerned that Meemaw was left to our tender mercies.” He flicked his gaze up to mine. “I aim to change your opinion of me, if you let me try.”

  “Why does it sound like you don’t support your brother’s methods?” The question popped out before my brain caught up to my mouth.

  “I’m his apprentice.” He rubbed his thumbs together. “I surrendered the right to my opinion when I blood bound myself to him for a period of ten years.”

  My breath left me in a rush. “Ten years?”

  “Yes. A decade of servitude in exchange for a century of enlightenment.” His faint smile managed to be amused. “That’s why the selection process for mentors is strict. The bond can’t be broken. It’s locked in until it expires.”

  I leaned back, recoiling from the implications. “How long do you have left?”

  “Eleven months, twenty-eight days, and about twelve hours, give or take.”

  I arched my eyebrows. “Not that you’re counting down the days or anything.”

  “Have you ever been ordered to do something that…?” The words hung unfinished.

  “Yes.” I didn’t have to hear the rest to understand. “I have, and I did it.”

  He set his jaw. “Bessemer?”

  “No.” I retracted the knee-jerk response. “Well, yes, him too. He wasn’t exactly winning any Alpha of the Year awards.” I tapped my stubby nails on the tablecloth while I screwed up the courage to admit, “I was thinking of my mother, actually.”

  Enzo didn’t move a muscle. I recognized the behavior. I’d done it enough while stalking jittery prey.

  “Pepsi and sweet tea no lemon,” Peggy called, barreling through the swinging doors.

  I pushed out a slow exhale, grateful for the save.

  “Food will be out in a minute.” She tossed me a straw while putting Enzo’s through a strip tease that ended with her thrusting it provocatively into his glass. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m good.”

  “I bet you are,” she all but purred.

  While he was good and terrified, I seized the opportunity for a subject change. “So…” I sipped my tea, which could have used a few more spoonfuls of sugar. “Where do you see yourself settling down?”

  “I like small towns.” He gestured around the restaurant, careful to avoid including Peggy in the sweep of his arm as she toddled on her heels back into the kitchen. “They have their own charm.”

  “They also don’t have a dry cleaner or a movie theater or any of the other niceties of—” Dang it. I almost said home. Again. “Have you considered Atlanta?”

  “The competition there is too stiff.” The straw wrapper on the table folded itself into an origami crane. “I need to establish my own territory outside the state where my brother lives.” The paper crumpled when he noticed the wings flapping, and he linked his fingers to keep them from casting again. “I want out from under Miguel’s shadow.”

  For the second time tonight, I found myself nodding in heartfelt agreement. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  I would give my eyeteeth to escape Momma’s legacy.

  Again, Enzo waited for me to expand on my comment. And yet again, I shut him down. My past was common knowledge in the pack, both the old one and the new one. Keeping him in the dark enabled me to keep his respect. I liked that he tried so hard to impress someone most wargs, a year ago, would have expected to flop on her back and spread her legs.

  “Mind if I ask a personal question?”

  My head jerked up, the past shoved back in its box while I mentally skimmed all the sensitive topics that we had discussed and I had dismissed. I hesitated for so long there could be no doubt I didn’t want to answer. “It depends.”

  “Why do you go by Dell?” The appearance of his dimples clued me in to the fact I was being played. “Adele is a beautiful name.”

  “It was a nickname given to me in school. It stuck.” Relief at his kindness left me lightheaded. “Is Enzo short for something else?” Most folks’ curiosity stemmed from their own name or nickname trauma.

  The divots in his cheeks smoothed. “It’s short for…” His mumbled admission failed to cross the table.

  “What was that?” I leaned forward, forearms on the table. “I didn’t catch it.”

  “Lorenzo,” he muttered, shoulders drooping. “As in Lamas.”

  The laughter I kept hiding finally bubbled over my lips. “Was your mom big into soaps?”

  Dot Cahill was a connoisseur of television drama. She walked me through the twisting plotlines of her favorite shows once, and I’d left her trailer with a headache, not really sure who the father of Anna’s baby was, except that it wasn’t her ex-boyfriend’s father or her current lover’s twin brother, who got drunk and stumbled into her bed one night. I decided on the spot I couldn’t watch television that required diagrams, so I stuck to HGTV.

  “Yes.” He bowed his head. “Please, show mercy and tell no one.”

  “Your secret is safe with me.” I crossed a finger over my heart. “I won’t tell another soul.”

  “Hot pie,” Peggy called from across the restaurant. “Hands off the table.”

/>   We both stashed our hands in our laps while she set two wide metal platters balanced on wooden coasters on the table then dished out plates and served up our first slices. I took a bite of my chicken alfredo and groaned in appreciation. “Delicious as always.”

  “I’ll tell Daryl you said so.” Her gaze swung toward Enzo, who had shrunk against the booth. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Can I ask a quick question?” I mumbled around a mouthful of saucy goodness.

  “As long as you swallow first, sure.” She clicked her tongue. “You have the table manners of a starving wolf, sweet stuff. Anyone ever told you that?”

  “No?” Most folks who ate with me gulped down calories in bulk the same as I did.

  “Word of advice?” She adjusted her top to reveal more skin. “Land a good man while you’ve still got your looks.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement,” I said flatly. “Have you guys had any weird power surges? I heard the hotel is warning guests about their electronics.”

  “Sure have.” She smoothed a lock of stiff hair back into place. “Oven three kicked the bucket last week. Daryl’s waiting to find out if insurance will cover the replacement before he puts in the order. Why?”

  “Just curious.” I took another bite, and sauce dripped onto my chin. “Weather seems worse in town.”

  “Who knows? Maybe the lightning is attracted to all these damn electronic gizmos.” She shook a finger at me. “I warned Daryl that Wi-Fi mess is nonsense, but it’s all around us in the air. We’re breathing it in just talking. It could be giving us cancer for all we know, but as long as it keeps bringing in the teenagers, Daryl says it’s an acceptable health risk.” After slapping a yellow ticket down in front of him, Peggy spun on her heel. “Call if you change your mind, sugar.”

  Once we were alone again, he raised the paper and flashed the digits she had written on the back of the receipt.

  “I hope I’m half the sex kitten she is when I get to be her age.” I meant it. It took guts and sky-high self-esteem to swing your hips after one or both had been replaced and to hit on guys young enough to be your grandson. “You’ve got to admire her moxie.”

  Another bonus of Peggy’s cougar tendencies was the way she made Moore so damn uncomfortable he wouldn’t even pick up pizza. It was delivery or die for him. That meant this place was another of my havens, and Peggy my guardian angel of questionable integrity.

  “I can’t decide if you’re being snarky or sincere.” He bit into his pizza and groaned sounds of approval.

  “I don’t give lip to my elders.” I popped a cube of chicken into my mouth. “Women who’ve lived that long and have that kind of fight in them deserve my respect.”

  Plus, I got the feeling Peggy was the kind of woman who—regular or not—wasn’t afraid to snatch a knot in my tail if I mouthed off to her. Those three-inch claws she called fingernails would leave a mark, warg healing or not. With that in mind, I tended to tip big, mind my manners and let her torment the pretty boys all she wanted.

  Chapter 4

  My second attempt at having a day off started better than the first. I brewed coffee, drank coffee, drank more coffee, and then changed from pajamas into ratty shorts and a tank top with holes worn into the fabric. A few hours passed while I enjoyed the Zen state where the scope of my world narrowed to me, a random orbit sander, and the porch. I had just finished sweeping the area clean and pried open the lid to a can of deck stain when the somewhat familiar scent of lemon and cayenne lifted my head.

  A small child, maybe six or seven, stood a dozen feet away, half-hidden by an oak tree wide enough to conceal all but the sliver of one rounded cheek. Black hair tangled around her head, and her bright orange eyes glowed in her face.

  “Hello.” I replaced the lid and sat so I cut a less imposing figure. “Can I help you?”

  “Daddy didn’t come home.” One plump hand gripped the bark. “Did you eat him?”

  “What?” I pushed to my feet. “No. I would never hurt your daddy.”

  The girl recoiled, disappearing for a moment before her voice drifted to me. “He said the magic wolves eat bad fae.”

  The slap of her words caused me to wince. “Your dad is Tim O’Malley, right?” No other fae in town had eyes the color of orange rinds. “I dropped by the Cantina last night, but the door was locked.”

  “Momma was scared. She didn’t want to open the store alone. I told her I would help, but she said I wasn’t big enough.”

  The wolf guided my steps, keeping them silent as I approached her hiding place. “Does your mom know you’re here?”

  “No.”

  I hesitated three feet away, afraid I might spook her into running. “Won’t she be worried about you?”

  “Yes.”

  God save me from tiny heroes. “Then why are you here?”

  The girl flung herself from safety to stare me down and almost stumbled over a root backpedaling when I proved closer than she’d expected, but she found her balance and locked her bony knees. “I want to hire you to find my daddy.”

  I blinked at her. “Come again?”

  “You said you didn’t eat him,” she challenged. “Did you lie?”

  “No.”

  Her imperial nod resembled a vote of confidence. “Magic wolves eat bad guys, right?”

  Possible answers turned themselves over in my head. What version of the truth was the right one? She was so young and so afraid. I didn’t want to make it worse. I also didn’t want her to think wargs weren’t dangerous. Accidents happened. But I didn’t want her terrified of us either. Packs aimed to be good neighbors. For her sake, because she might have popped in on one of the Stoners instead of me, I told her the unblemished truth. “Yes, we do.”

  “Good.” Confirmation of our bloodthirstiness appeased her. “Whoever took my daddy is very bad.”

  “Why do you think I can help?” That was the part I didn’t understand.

  “When Daddy needs help at the Cantina, he hires people.” Her brow creased as if mentally downgrading my IQ. “I need help. You eat bad guys. So I’m going to hire you.”

  The thing about fae is some live forever. Their appearance was not a true reflection of their age. This girl looked young, spoke young, and had that glow of childhood about her, but her mind was razor sharp under that baby fat. Her deductive reasoning proved that.

  “I don’t work that way.” I gestured around the park. “I have a job to do here—several in fact.”

  “You won’t help me because I’m fae.” She thrust out her bottom lip. “I’m going to tell Momma, and you’re never eating our cupcakes again.”

  Faster than the wind blows, she ran. I could have shifted and caught her, but chasing her as a wolf seemed like a great way to scar the kid for life.

  “Nathalie?” I pinged one of the sentries on duty. “Where are you?”

  “Stalking a fae girl who smells like tears and lemons.”

  “Define stalking?”

  Mental laughter rolled through our bond. “I recognize the kid, okay? Chill. It’s Florence, Tim’s oldest. I trailed her to your place. Now I’m following her home. Or we are.”

  “Aisha’s with you?” My lip curled. “I thought she was babysitting the Stoners with Haden today.”

  The former alpha female of the Chandler pack was about the last wolf who ought to be tasked with watching a child, since her inattention had almost gotten Bessemer’s daughter killed on at least one occasion. That explained why she was a former Chandler alpha and why her mate had exiled her. The bigger mystery, to me, was why Cam had offered her a temporary spot in our pack.

  “She got in a fight with one of the new guys. Hot but smiles too much?”

  “Oh him.” Killer Smile strikes again. Making friends wherever he goes. “Anything I should be worried about?”

  “Depends.” Humor injected her voice. “Did Haden mention it to you?”

  “No.” I palmed my forehead. “Oh.”

  “We have a chain of c
ommand for a reason.” She snorted. “Get used to being at the top, baby.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.” The whole impending-doom thing kind of sucked the joy out of achieving one of my life goals. “Thanks for the update. I’ll get Moore to stand in until you two get back.” I switched channels. “Moore, you’re on sentry duty. Nathalie’s running an errand for me.”

  “I’m off today,” he huffed.

  “Yeah, well, so am I, and yet here we are.” I returned to my porch and picked off a couple of leaves the wind had tumbled. “Suck it up and deal. It won’t take her but maybe twenty minutes. You can fill in that long.”

  Tucking away Florence’s request for later consideration, I pried open the lid on the stain, took a paint stirrer and mixed it up, then grabbed for my brush. I had finished one glossy plank and sat back to admire the richness of the color when the smell of peppercorns and vanilla assaulted my nasal passages.

  “Where is my daughter?” a shrill voice demanded.

  “Hi, Mrs. O’Malley.” I rested the lid on the can and wrapped the brush in a plastic grocery bag before turning. “Let me guess. You’re here because Florence is missing.”

  The short woman with a choppy bob and ruby-red lips anchored her fists at her hips and scowled with impressive severity. “Yes.”

  “She was here a few minutes ago, but she left.”

  “You just let her go?” Her arms flopped at her sides. “She’s a child.”

  “I didn’t have much choice. She ran before I could stop her.” I held up a hand to forestall the momma-bear routine. “One of my wolves is with her. Nathalie will make sure that Florence gets home safely.”

  Lips mashed into a thin, red slash, she nodded. “That will do.”

  It was as close to thanking me as she would get.

  The suddenness of her arrival made me curious. “Why did you come here looking for her? Did she mention wanting to see me?”

  “Darling Flo was quite taken with your wolves after dear Tim brought us here to meet your pack.” The fight drained out of her. “She pretends to be a wolf, and her friends pretend to be her pack.” A faint smile haunted her mouth. “You’ll never see the like, that I swear. A banshee, an anthousai, a brownie and a hob as beta.”