by Linda Palmer
Brody grabbed a handful of his shirt and lifted until the guy's head came off the floor. "You know what I can do to you." I saw a flash of fear in the man's eyes and looked at my boyfriend in shock. What the heck?
"Is. This. About. Me?"
"Yeah. Roman thinks you lied about leading the cub pack." So they called the teen wolves 'cubs.' That might've made me laugh in other circumstances.
"Well, I clearly don't, and you be sure and tell him that." Flushed and dangerous, Brody let the guy's bounce off the concrete floor and jumped up. I watched as he paced in a tiny circle, his body tense. I guessed he was trying to figure out what to do. Several seconds passed before he stopped, probably having made some kind of decision. With a quick glance at me, he dragged the kidnapper behind some boxes. That done, he motioned for me to follow him out of there. Brody did the driving to Tucker's house without saying a word. I kept Abigail in my lap, sharing a seatbelt even though it wasn't the safest thing to do. Not for anything was I going to stick her in the back seat.
When we pulled into the drive, Brody said, "Let me do the talking."
Guessing why, I nodded.
There weren't words to describe the scene at the Wells house when we knocked loudly on their door at two a.m. Sunday morning. Both parents burst into tears, as did their daughter, which set me off again. I think the four of us went through a whole box of tissues as Brody shared an edited version of what had happened. So when we left them a half hour later, Tucker and Megan both believed the Arm just wanted to make a point and would never bother them or their daughter again. They planned to tell the police that the family dog found and led her home.
During the drive home, I tried to decide which question to verbalize first. I had so many. Finally, I settled on asking Brody how widespread the gang was.
"There's a branch in every state, more than one in some, and a couple in Europe."
"And this Roman dude is in charge of them all?"
"So he says."
"But you don't believe it."
"Not for a minute."
I struggled to word my next question. "Just as you don't believe this kidnapping was about Tucker."
Brody looked at me, but didn't answer.
He didn't have to. I knew. "Roman did this to flush you out, didn't he? You told the Arm you weren't the teen leader, and they tested you to be sure."
"Yeah. Thank God we went to that theater alone."
"Though the extra men would've been nice."
He just shrugged.
By that time, we'd reached my gate, which I'd deliberately left open earlier. Shortly after we drove through it, I saw Brody's truck parked in front of the guesthouse. I also saw four motorcycles.
"Uh-oh." I pointed.
Brody groaned. "They must've figured out something was up. They're gonna be so pissed.” He parked next to my truck, his eye on the house, which had light streaming from every window. “You didn't lock up?"
"Actually, I thought I did."
Now he sighed. "Lee must've let them in. He's even better at breaking and entering than me." He thought for a second.
"We could always tell them we went to Waffle House or something."
"As if. In case you haven't noticed, you're covered in blood."
"Oh yeah. Shit." Brody sat there for a good thirty seconds as if steeling himself for something unpleasant. I finally got out and headed indoors, which gave him no choice but to follow me.
I opened my front door and walked into my living room. The first thing I saw was soda cans, a pizza box, and empty chip packages. They'd obviously made themselves right at home.
"Well, well, well. Look who's here." I leveled my gaze on Lee. "If you messed up my front door, you're going to pay for a new one."
Lee snorted. "Give me some credit, will ya?" By then Brody had come inside, too. At the sight of his black eye, fat lip, and bloodstained shirt, every single Were jumped to his feet.
"Shit! I told you he knew something!" Welch did not look happy.
"What happened?" asked Jackson.
Brody told them.
Stewart got right in my boyfriend's face. "You should've let us help. You said you would."
"And if I had, Roman would now know for sure that we're up to something."
The pack thought about that for a nanosecond.
"You took her, and you didn't take us." Jackson shook his head. "I just don't get it. She could've been killed, man." Brody didn't meet his intense gaze. "I know."
"We're a team. We've got your back. You can trust us." This came from Lee, but the other three-nodded agreement. "If you're in trouble, you call. Now swear to it."
"I swear."
Jackson glanced at me. "And swear that next time, she stays home."
"He can't," I told him. "I'm my own boss." Jackson did not like my answer for some reason.
"You guys need to pick up all this crap." Brody indicated the whole room with a sweep of his arm. "Then you need to go. And next time, don't eat before you ask."
"We left her some money on the bar," said Welch, already wadding up a Cheetos bag.
A glance toward the kitchen confirmed that they really had. I wanted to laugh, but was suddenly so exhausted that I literally swayed on my feet. Brody, who had way more reason to be wiped out than I did, scooped me up in his arms.
"Lock up on your way out." He turned his back on his pack and headed to my bedroom, clearly intending to deposit me on the bed and leave. Of course, I didn't let him.
"Bathroom. We need to do something about your face." Wordlessly, he switched direction. When I stood on my own two feet again, I dug a first aid kit from under the sink. He washed his face first. I inspected it and put some antibiotic ointment on a cut that probably needed stitches. I didn't even mention the ER. Why waste my breath? I did tape it shut, my stomach roiling the whole time. Apparently, it was a good thing that a nursing career had never once crossed my mind. Some unfinished something lurked at the edge of reason, but I could barely focus on the task at hand, so didn't try to retrieve it. Later would be soon enough to worry about whatever it was.
Once I patched up Brody, I left him so he could shower and get ready for bed. If I felt this tired, he had to feel worse. He'd done all the work, after all. A quick inspection of my living room revealed that the guys had followed orders. I checked the front door. They'd even locked up.
The clock on the wall said 4:00. I yawned and pretty much staggered to my bedroom, thinking I'd shower tomorrow—
actually today—when and if I ever got up again. At the moment, sleeping a couple of days away sounded heavenly. The sound of running water told me Brody was still in the bathroom. I stepped out of my jeans and yanked my shirt over my head, leaving them both on the floor. My bra hit the carpet next. I pulled on my sleep shirt and literally fell into bed. I barely got under the covers and didn't even remember closing my eyes before the nightmare began.
Brody and I stood in front of the Royale Theater in the dark of midnight, face to face with a pack of enormous wolves, and they weren't the friendly ones. Suddenly they parted and a man began walking toward us. I couldn't make out his features at first, but his step seemed familiar. When he finally cleared the shadows, I saw his face. Max. I waved; he didn't wave back. Instead, he walked right up to me without ever looking at my boyfriend. I saw that he held a barbecue fork, the kind with the long handle and extra-sharp tines.
"Love ya, Cass," he said, giving me a sweet smile as he viciously speared Brody in the heart.
Chapter Twelve
"Cass! Wake up!"
With another scream on the tip of my tongue, I dragged my eyes open and found Brody in my face and very much alive. I gasped and threw my arms around his neck. That move tipped him onto the bed, where I pretty much attacked the boy. He tried to defend himself for two whole seconds before he gave in and began returning my crazy kisses times three.
Lying there in the dark, we made out until my nightmare receded and desire consumed me. I slid my hands over
his back, still damp from the shower, and slipped my fingertips under the waistband of his briefs to touch his butt. He tensed in my arms.
"Cass...."
"I know, I know." Reluctantly I pulled back until our hug was PG-13 again. "Soon though, right?"
"Very." He sounded out of breath, which I liked. He rolled away, which I didn't like. "You were dreaming. Tell me about it."
All my worries about Max slammed into my consciousness again. I realized my doubt about him was the something nagging me before I went to sleep and undoubtedly the reason for my nightmare. Clearly, I had to sort out this mystery, but not aloud. Brody didn't like Max as it was, and in spite of my unacknowledged fears, I felt sure there was a reasonable explanation for everything. Why add fuel to that hateful fire, which burned hot enough already?
"Cass?"
"It was nothing really. Silly stuff."
"You sounded scared."
"Who wouldn't after a night like tonight?" I sat up and turned on the bedside table. "Unlike you, I'm not used to that kind of drama. In fact, before we met, the worst thing that had ever happened to me was a sprained ankle."
Brody winced. "I know I'm bad for you."
"That is not what I meant." I stood and stretched without thinking, raising my arms high over my head, and then bending over to touch the floor. My body felt like a too-tight knot that needed untying.
Brody fell back on the bed with a loud groan, which was when I realized my shirt had raised enough to reveal my tush, which was mostly bare since I wore a thong.
"Oops. Sorry," I said, though I really wasn't. I left him there and went to the kitchen in hopes the pack hadn't completely cleaned out the sodas in the fridge. There were several left. I took one and sat at the bar to drink it and to think.
"That has caffeine in it."
I looked at Brody and at the Coke I held, but hadn't yet opened. "Your point?"
"You need to sleep. That isn't going to help."
"The only way I'm going to feel safe enough to sleep is if you're in my bed, and I don't mean on top of the covers. Are you up for it? No pun intended."
"Very funny." He stared without seeing me for an eternity.
"Okay. We'll do it."
With a squeal of joy, I sprang off my stool.
He caught and kept me at arm's length. "I meant share a bed."
"Oh." Damn. Well, even that might keep me from thinking.
"Fine then." I put the can back in the fridge and walked to my bedroom, where I crawled into bed again. Brody did the same with visible reluctance. When I snuggled up to him, he tensed for a couple of heartbeats, but he eventually relaxed, as did I. I didn't dream and didn't open my eyes until I heard my cell phone ringing hours later.
I eased out of the bed to keep from waking Brody, which probably wasn't necessary. His even breaths never altered. The brightness of the house told me the sun had risen hours ago. A glance at the clock confirmed it: 11:00.
"Hello?"
"Cass, hey," said Max. "I'd almost given up on you." I struggled to keep my tone neutral. "Sorry. I got to bed really late last night and I'm just now getting up." I wondered if he already knew this and hated myself for wondering it. He laughed. "Been there, done that. Brody still hanging around?"
"He is."
"Good for you. Did you mean it when you said you'd take at look at the Royale with me?"
My heart rate kicked up a notch. "Um, yeah, sure. I'd love to."
"Is today all right?"
"What time?"
"I don't know. Is three too early? "
"Why don't we do it now?" While Brody's asleep.
"Are you sure?"
"Uh-huh. I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes."
"Great. Why don't you bring that man of yours along? He seems like a pretty savvy guy. I bet he'll have some ideas, too, and I'd like another chance with him."
"Good idea. See ya in a few."
After flipping my phone shut and setting it on the bar. I tiptoed to the bedroom, where yesterday's clothes still lay on the floor. Scooping them up without a sound, I slipped down the hall to the bathroom and quickly washed my face and brushed my teeth. I didn't bother with make-up, but dressed, pulled up my hair into a messy ponytail, and headed right out, grabbing my purse from the coffee table and some flip-flops from the laundry room floor as I left the house.
What I didn't do was wake Brody. No way was I going to take my hotheaded, over-protective boyfriend with all his scary skills—Dang! I meant to ask him about those—into the possible fray. While I had no doubts that Max would never hurt me, I had plenty about what he'd do to Brody.
On the drive to the theater, I kept thinking of the brainless heroine in every slasher movie I'd ever seen. The one who went up to the attic all alone even though the audience screamed, "Don't do it!" The one who inevitably wound up with her throat slit or her disembodied, bloody head bouncing down the stairs. Was I deliberately playing that airhead role? Was I walking into danger with my eyes wide shut?
And what was my goal, here, anyway?
I thought of several. First, I needed the truth. While I could not and would not believe Max had connections to the Weres, I knew he had secrets. If I was ever going to trust him again, he'd have to come clean with me, something he would never do with a stranger, a.k.a. Brody Anderson, hovering. Second, I wanted to keep that same Brody Anderson safe. The fact that Max had invited him along worried me a little. Cassidy + Max =
lifelong friendship, family loyalty, sincere affection. Cassidy +
Max + Brody = instant tension, mutual suspicion, and a probable fight. Third goal, if the worst happened, and Max was involved with the Weres, I needed to know why and for how long so I could figure out what to do with the information. Yes, I should've been scared stupid.
Yes, I could've been more cautious.
But a girl had to do what a girl had to do.
I saw Max's sport car parked in front of the theater the moment I pulled into the lot. He stood beside it, talking on his cell. I realized that the place looked different in daylight. Not nearly so creepy. And it helped that Max had a key to the door. No sneaking up the fire escape today.
Keeping my fingers crossed that we wouldn't stumble over three bound Weres during our walk-through, I got out of my car and went over to my uncle.
"Hey, hot stuff," he said, tucking his phone in his jeans'
pocket and giving me a quick hug. I smelled alcohol on him, a first that startled me.
"Hey, back." In spite of the liquor thing, I felt all my fears melt away. If he knew that I knew, he wasn't going to do anything about it. And if he didn't know that, I knew, well, whew! There was a third option, of course. He knew that I knew and was going to do something about it. Somehow, I couldn't believe that. I mean, how could this sweet guy be connected to a gang? He couldn't, that's how.
"Where's Brody?"
"Just couldn't wake him, so I left him sleeping like a baby in my bed."
Max arched an eyebrow at me.
"That didn't come out right." My cheeks began to burn. He chuckled. "Uh-huh." He led the way to the building.
"Great place, huh?"
"Yes. There's so much you could do with it." A click of the lock on the double glass doors got us inside. By the time they swung shut, Max had already begun brainstorming his plans, which included everything he'd mentioned before and more. I saw a beautiful foyer, reminiscent of days gone by, and a concession stand. I also saw a gorgeous chandelier draped in cobwebs, as well as movie posters of the last film that played there: Underworld. The irony brought a wry smile to my face. I let Max's words wash over me for the next forty-five minutes, so relieved that all my worries were apparently for nothing. Obviously, the Weres had chosen the abandoned theater without the permission of its owner and were long gone now. Why else would Max chance inviting me there? So everything was okay. All I had left to do was find the right moment to ask why Max lied about his inheritance.
"Come up to the balcony." He led the wa
y to a wide, carpeted stairway that curved upward to the second floor, tottering just a little. We ascended them and walked down a huge hall that ran parallel to the narrower one Brody and I had sneaked down last night. I'll admit that thought weirded me out some, but not as much as the fact Max might be a little drunk.
Finally, he pointed to a door on his right, one of a matched pair, I realized. I followed him onto a shadowy balcony filled with rows of stadium seats.
"I'm actually thinking about keeping the seating up here, building a wall where the guard rail is, and mounting a giant screen television. I'll show kid-friendly movies back-to-back. They'll be free with the price of admission, so while their parents drink lattes at the coffee shop I'm putting out in the hall, their kiddies will be entertained." His words echoed oddly in the vast emptiness.
"You're a genius." I walked down the aisle to the rail and looked down into the theater proper far below, which Max had told me he planned to gut and completely refurbish. "Um, Max?"
"Yes."
"May I ask you something personal?"
"Any time. I have no secrets from you."
Hm. I explained about the letter from the university and told him about running across a file with his name on it. Did he tense? Or was that my imagination?
"So I know that Granddad disinherited you and gave your mom's publishing company to dad."
For several seconds, Max just looked at me. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry you saw that."
"Don't be. I know why you lied. You thought I'd think the worst, didn't you? You thought it would make a difference in our relationship."
"Yes, I did."
"Well, it hasn't. It won't. You can always be honest with me, Max. You never have to worry about how I'll take it." He got very quiet. "Thanks, Cass. That means a lot."
"You're welcome. Um...if I asked what you did to piss off Granddad, would you tell me?"
Max shrugged. "Why not? We're being up-front with each other, aren't we? I lost big at the casinos. He covered my debts with the stipulation that I'd never gamble again." But wasn't he at a casino when I talked to him last week?
"What was the second thing...the one your mom covered up?"