by Jodi Vaughn
It wasn’t ideal, but he knew what would happen if he stayed.
She stood and glanced out the window.
He had a bad feeling that her house wasn’t exactly isolated out in the country. He definitely didn’t need to be in town. The chance of exposure was too great. But right now he was out of options.
“I live in an apartment.” She gave him a grimace of a smile.
Things had gone from bad to fucked up in zero point eight seconds.
***
Skylar had barely managed to get Zane loaded up into the bed of her truck before her crew started rolling up to the house in their trucks. She’d covered him up with an old painting tarp. When one of her crew started ambling toward the truck, she’d made up some excuse about having to go check on another property and had driven away in a rush.
She glanced in her rearview mirror to make sure the tarp was staying tied down. When she saw it held, she breathed out a sigh of relief. She turned off the small country road and onto the main highway.
Sweat beaded at her temple and rolled down her cheek as the summer heat bore down on the metal truck. She sooo needed to get the air fixed. It was going to be one of the first things she did if she ever started making a decent profit from her business. She leaned her head out the window to catch a breeze and caught her reflection in the mirror.
Her red hair had started to frizz around her face, and her cheeks were flushed from the heat. She hadn’t bothered with makeup today, and it showed. She didn’t normally wear makeup to a job site. If she had anticipated meeting a hot-looking werewolf, then she would have at least slapped on some lip gloss.
She sucked in a deep breath and shook her head.
“I have no idea why I’m even worried about it. It’s not like he sees me as anything other than his little sister’s friend.” She’d always had a crush on Zane when she was little, but as soon as he’d left home to go to college, she’d not seen him anymore. He’d never see her as a woman. Just a kid. Not to mention their social statuses were worlds apart. He was a gray wolf and she was a red.
When she was little, she didn’t realize that not all wolves were like her father. It was after meeting Zane’s family that she saw that wolves could be loving and protective. It had given her hope that her father could change and be more loving. But that never happened. Things between the gray wolves and the red wolves turned ugly. The males of the red wolf pack had wanted to start taking over the gray wolf territory. When they met to conspire, it had turned deadly as the red wolves began fighting among themselves for more power and more control. By the time she’d graduated, the majority of the red wolves were dead. Not wanting to be the next casualty, she’d moved to Louisiana and gone to college. The last she’d heard, there were very few, if any, red wolves left in Arkansas. So running into Hershel had certainly been a shocker.
She turned onto the street that led to her apartment. She slowed the truck and glanced in her rearview mirror. If she was hot, she knew Zane had to be cooking under that tarp.
She turned into the parking lot of the Castlewoods Apartments. She’d gotten into the apartments when they were first built two years ago. Right now wasn’t a good time for her to be a homeowner since she was so busy with her contracting work and didn’t have time to take care of her own home.
She pulled into the parking lot and grimaced. Her apartment was on the bottom floor, but there were a lot of cars in the parking lot, and she couldn’t risk letting Zane out here.
She backed out of the parking spot and drove to the end of the lot. The back of the apartments faced a thick, lush tree line that continued on for a while. There was barely five feet between the buildings and the tree line. The only people she’d seen out there were dog walkers who didn’t want to clean up after their dogs. If she could get her truck to the back of the apartments and let Zane out there, there would be less chance someone would spot him.
Pressing her lips together, she cast a quick glace around. She listened carefully. When she was sure she didn’t see anyone, she eased her truck around the back of the apartments.
Tree branches scraped across the passenger side of her truck, and she clenched her teeth, wondering how much damage it was doing to her paint job.
Shoving her worries aside, she stopped her truck at the back of her apartment. She opened the door. It nudged the side of the building. She squeezed herself through the small opening and stopped at the back of the truck’s bed.
“Stay here until I unlock my door.” She kept her voice low as her gaze flitted around the wooded area. The last thing she needed was to catch her neighbors’ attention by revealing a big-ass wolf in the back of her truck.
She quickened her steps to her door and stuck her key in the doorknob.
“Skylar, hello, dear.” Mrs. Nelson cracked her door open and gave her a toothy grin.
Skylar froze as her heart pounded in her throat.
Mrs. Nelson was her nosy neighbor who didn’t mind getting the other tenants in trouble whenever she thought they were up to no good. She’d called the cops twice last week on the poor girl who lived a few doors down for being a prostitute. Mrs. Nelson claimed the girl had a different guy every week. Turned out the girl was a college student who’d taken a part-time job tutoring students in English.
Last month, Mrs. Nelson had called the cops on old man Grissom, who lived in the next building. She told the cops he was growing drugs in his apartment. Turned out he was growing something, but it was only mushrooms in his closet. Not the kind you get high on, either.
After that, Skylar tried to steer clear of Mrs. Nelson. She didn’t need the old woman nosing around in her business or her personal life.
“Hello, Mrs. Nelson.” She cut her eyes at the bed of her truck sticking out in plain sight. If Zane moved so much as an inch, the old woman would know something was up. Nothing got past her.
“I had to stop by and get some more tools for the construction site I’m working on.” She gave the woman a forced smile and hoped it was enough.
“I didn’t know you kept tools in your apartment.” The old woman narrowed her beady eyes. “Is that even legal?”
Shit.
“Oh, I told the landlord about it and he said it was perfectly fine.” She dug her phone out of her back pocket and pulled up a number. “Would you like to check with him?” She spoke calmly and evenly, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.
Mrs. Nelson relaxed. The lines around her eyes drooped and her shoulders slumped. It was obvious she was disappointed she hadn’t caught another criminal act.
“How’s Luther doing, Mrs. Nelson? I’ve not seen him around lately.” Skylar smiled brightly. Luther was Mrs. Nelson’s grandson whom she used to brag about constantly. A day didn’t go by that the old woman wasn’t telling anyone who would listen about another of Luther’s accomplishments. Four-point-oh in college, majoring in medicine and volunteering at the food bank. That was Luther in a nutshell. He was on his way to being the brightest and the best.
Until he’d been arrested for a hit-and-run and charged with DUI. He’d gotten drunk at the country club, gotten thrown out, and had run over a homeless man who had been crossing the street.After further investigation, it turned out that Luther didn’t have a four-point-oh—he’d failed out of college and had continued to lie to his parents about it. He’d taken the money they’d given him for college and used it on weed, booze, and women. It had also been rumored that golden boy Luther now had gonorrhea and gotten some girl knocked up.
After that, Mrs. Nelson no longer brought up Luther to anyone.
Mrs. Nelson’s wrinkled face paled. Her eyes widened slightly, and if the woman had been wearing pearls, Skylar knew she would be clutching them in her sweaty palm.
“I’ve got to go. I have to check on something in the oven.” Mrs. Nelson gave her a tight, polite smile that read F you and slammed the door. Skylar waited a few seconds, listening as the woman’s footsteps clomped away and a tingle of regret slid around in h
er stomach. She knew bringing up the woman’s grandson was a low blow, but it was the only way to get rid of Mrs. Nelson.
Skylar raced to the back of the truck and pulled up the end of the tarpaulin. She was met with a brief growl and Zane’s piercing wolf eyes.
“We’ve got to hurry,” she whispered as she stepped back, allowing him space to jump down from the hot truck bed. His long tongue hung out the side of his mouth as he panted. She bet he felt like he was roasting in the ridiculous Arkansas heat.
She hurried to her apartment and quickly opened the door. He wasted no time and raced inside. She stepped in behind him.
The cool air hit her in the face, and she locked the door and slid the deadbolt. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him as he padded into the living room. He changed course and headed away from the carpeted room and into the tiled kitchen. He paced back and forth and cut his eyes up at her as if trying to communicate.
“Oh, sorry.” She hurried into the kitchen and pulled out her largest mixing bowl. Holding it under the faucet, she filled the bowl with cold water and then sat it on the floor.
He dipped his head and lapped up the water in gulps. She opened the freezer and pulled out some ice cubes and dumped them into the bowl.
“You must have felt like you were baking under that canvas.” She wiped away the errant drop of sweat from her brow.
He glanced up at her as if agreeing before dipping his head again to lap up the cool water. A slight rumbling growl came from deep within his massive chest.
She’d seen lots of werewolves, of course. But Zane was more beautiful than she’d ever imagined a male wolf could be.
His lush gray fur had specks of silver, and her hand itched to run her fingers through the thick, silky hair.
He cut his ice-blue eyes up at her in an assessing kind of way.
She looked away, embarrassed that he’d caught her staring at him so openly. He probably thought she was some desperate female. Who could blame her? Men like Zane were few and far between.
“I’ve got to get back to work. Stay here as long as you need. There’s some food in the refrigerator if you get hungry after you shift back.” She sat the pile of his clothes that she’d gathered up after he shifted on the kitchen counter. They were ruined—he’d busted out of them like a cat out of a bag—but it was all she had at the moment.
“I’ll get some more clothes on my way home after work.”
He lifted his head from the water bowl and gave her a nod of understanding.
“I don’t have a landline, just my cell phone, so there’s no way to get in contact with me if you need anything. I’ll try to get home as soon as I can.” She walked over to the door. With her hand on the cool steel doorknob, she glanced over her shoulder.
He had followed her out of the kitchen and was standing in the hallway, watching her.
“If for some reason you’re not here when I get home, I’m going to assume you got tired of waiting around and had other pressing issues to attend to. Otherwise, I’ll see you sometime after six.”
***
“Lucien, why do I get the feeling you’re lying to me?” Barrett growled through the phone.
“Maybe because you’re already distracted and upset about having to host the Pack Master summit.” Lucien grimaced as he looked over at Jaxon, who was busy checking out a female passing by with shorts so tiny her ass was hanging out.
Jaxon gave the curvy blonde a panty-dropping grin as she looked at him over her shoulder and giggled. Lucien reached out and slapped him on the back of the head.
“Hey.” Jaxon shot his friend a glare and straightened from leaning against the brick building on Main Street. It was the weekend, and in a college town like Jonesboro, people were out and about, buying clothes, having drinks, and heading down to the local pub to catch some sports on TV.
The drone of cars passing down the street had Lucien taking two steps into the nearest alley and away from the noise of the little town.
“How’s that going, by the way?” Lucien hoped he could get his Pack Master distracted by Pack business and move his attention off the question of why Zane hadn’t checked in.
“It’s a fucking barrel of monkeys. I’ve got Jack Welbourn from Mississippi saying he needs more Guardians, Charles Price from Tennessee saying they want fewer Guardians and Edward Boudier from Louisiana still giving me shit about his Assassins.” Barrett let out a low rumble, and Lucien knew his leader was not going to give the Louisiana leader any quarter for fucking up.
The Louisiana Assassins had shown up a few months earlier in Arkansas, looking to kill Braxton. But when they’d failed to inform Barrett of their presence in the state, it had almost led to a territorial war between the two states. The Louisiana Assassins were clearly in the wrong, but their Pack Master wasn’t one to follow the rules unless it benefited him. So the hard feelings remained.
“And here I thought the Pack Masters’ summit was all caviar and mint juleps.”
“Not likely.” Barrett snorted. “Enough with this run-around bullshit, Lucien. Where’s Zane?”
Oh, fuck.
“I’m not exactly sure. He did say something about following a lead on those meth heads we busted a few weeks ago. He said not to worry and that he’d contact me in a few days.” That wasn’t happening, since he was holding Zane’s dead phone with his free hand. Apparently Zane hadn’t shifted back before taking off, because all his clothes and his cell phone had been lying in the alley.
Something was very wrong.
“You and Jaxon stay in Jonesboro until he makes contact. I can’t afford to lose any of my Guardians. Especially now.”
“What do you mean?” Lucien’s gut tightened.
“There’s more going on with Louisiana than what I’m being told. My instinct tells me that Edward Boudier is taking his vengeance to a whole other level because of the stink I raised with his Assassins.”
“That’s not good.”
“What’s not fucking good is Zane not contacting me. You make sure to tell him I’m going to have his ass when I find him.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Lucien killed the call and looked over at Jaxon, who was now eyeing him with interest.
“What’d he say? He heard from Zane?” Jaxon crossed his arms over his chest.
“Nope. And I got a feeling when he does, it’s not going to be good for our Pack brother.”
***
Zane woke up buck-ass naked in the middle of Skylar’s kitchen. The cool tile felt good against his overheated body, and he stayed still for a few minutes, reveling in the sensation.
The shadow of the descending sun crawled across the floor, signaling the impending dusk. He frowned, raised himself up, and looked around for a clock. His gaze landed on the microwave. Six thirty.
He’d been asleep for almost six hours, and he felt like he could sleep for six more.
He’d never been like that. Usually, four hours a night made him feel good and rested, but not now. Now he felt like he’d been run over by a fucking eighteen-wheeler and dragged for one hundred miles.
He forced his feet under him and stood on shaky legs. His thigh throbbed. He glanced down. The injury where he’d been stabbed had changed colors. What had been red was now dark crimson with a gray outline around the ragged edge of the cut.
He ran his finger down the injury and flinched at the sensitive flesh.
What the fuck? How had crystal meth done this to him? He was virtually immortal. It didn’t make sense.
He swiped his bundle of clothes off the counter and made his way through the apartment to the bathroom.
The apartment was small, with a kitchen that led to the living room. There was a small island that allowed for eating but clearly no room to put in a table. The kitchen counters were clean with no knickknacks or decorations, and the living room only housed a small white couch and a coffee table. He glanced around the room. The few pictures that hung on the wall were all art posters. She didn’t have one personal photo.
It seemed impersonal, like a hotel. Usually, women liked to decorate their homes, putting their personal touches on the space. But Skylar hadn’t done that. He couldn’t help but wonder if her upbringing had anything to do with it.
He entered the bedroom and stopped in his tracks. Here in her boudoir, she certainly didn’t skimp.
The enormous king-sized bed made of wrought iron and dark wood was flanked on either side with marble-topped nightstands. The bed was decorated in shades of white and cream, and it reminded him of silky ice cream on a hot Arkansas night. The only colorful things were a couple of froufrou pink pillows on the bed.
The nightstands were identical, with matching white lamps with tassels hanging off their shades. A few books and a candle decorated one of the nightstands, which he assumed was probably the side she slept on. The other nightstand looked a bit lonely with just its lamp keeping it company.
A matching dresser and chest of drawers rounded out the furniture in the room. Yet there were still no personal photos of any kind anywhere.
What had happened to Skylar to make her seem so alone? Where was the little girl he once knew? What had happened in those few years he’d not kept in contact? And why had his Katy not contacted her?
He cast a longing glance at the bed before turning to the bathroom. The last thing he needed was to get his unwashed ass in her pristine bed and stink it up.
He shoved the cream-and-silver shower curtain back and turned the shower on full force. A shower had always perked him up before. Maybe it would do its magic this time.
He stepped into the shower as the steam began to fog up the mirror like a New England morning. He stood under the spray of the hot water, braced his palms on the tile wall, and bent his head, letting the water fall on his neck in a heated rush. He let out a groan as the heat loosened up the muscles between his shoulders and the tension he’d carried all day fell to the drain with the cascade of water.
He needed to find out what the hell was wrong with him before Barrett found out.