“Yes. Bryce wasn’t there yesterday when Molly and I got jumped, and since he’s the leader, I’m assuming Mick’s shot must have caused him more trouble than we thought. If he wasn’t hurt, he’d have definitely made a grab for me himself.”
Zeke nodded and reached for a pen. “Bryce. What’s his last name, honey?” He smirked when Mick audibly objected to the endearment.
“Landeskog.”
“Give me the names of the others, too. I can run them. Might as well get an idea of what we’re up against. Maybe I can also put out some feelers to see if anyone’s spotted them or their names in the area, like at the front desk of a motel or something. That’s probably too easy, but it doesn’t mean I won’t check it out.”
Renny reeled off the names of her four remaining pursuers. They already knew Geoffrey’s name. “Aside from Jordan, the ones there yesterday were Will and Tommy Molina and Eric Ayala. Will and Tommy are cousins. Tommy’s an asshole, but Will’s a little…” She paused, memories making her skin crawl. “He’s just not right. I mean, all of Geoff’s friends are nasty bastards, but Will takes it a step further. He doesn’t just get off on being one of the pack’s enforcers; he gets off on hurting people.”
Mick flashed a mouthful of fangs. “Oh, good. We’ve got a little sociopath to play with. Won’t that be fun?”
“Okay. I’ll start getting some information together. I’ll also talk to Jaeger,” Zeke said. “He can come up with a list of potential guards to have on standby. Renny, I know it won’t be fun for you to have a shifter shadow following you around everywhere you go, but hopefully it won’t be for long. I’d like to find these bastards as soon as possible. At the very least, the Northwest Council will need to hear about them.”
“I’ll deal,” she said with a reassuring gesture. “Trust me, a bodyguard will be a lot more fun than what Geoffrey has planned for me, and I know it. I can’t promise to be happy about living under constant surveillance, but considering the alternative? I’ll deal.”
Mick’s toothy grin took on an entirely new edge, one that had Renny’s thighs clenching together.
“I’ll do what I can to keep you occupied,” he promised in a voice that made her wonder which male in the room was really the feline shifter. “I’m sure I can come up with something.”
Renny felt her heart speed up. She was sure he could, too. And if not, maybe she could put her own twist on things. If he had trouble with ideas popping up, she knew the first thing she’d be happy to go down on.
With.
With. She cleared her throat and hoped Zeke would ignore the way her cheeks had just gone flaming red. She’d meant “down with.”
Really.
Chapter Nine
Apparently, there genuinely was such a thing as too much sex. Go figure.
Renny stretched to ease sore, tight muscles and sent up a little prayer of thanks for her lupine healing ability. Without it, she felt pretty sure she’d have lost the ability to walk at least three or four days ago.
From what she had seen (and felt, and orgasmed), her reluctant mate seemed to have left his doubts behind him once they had claimed each other. No more did she feel as if he were doing everything in his power to pretend she didn’t exist. Instead, he was doing everything he could to ensure that she never wanted to get more than a couple dozen feet away from him. He’d kept her half-drunk on sex for an entire week.
She’d heard about the new-mating honeymoon phase that bonded wolf pairs went through, but she’d always thought of it as a romantic sort of fairy tale. It was said that once a couple found and marked each other for the first time, they would go for several days without being able to stop touching each other. Direct physical contact would become a necessary thing, and too long without it would lead not just to irritability, but to real physical and emotional discomfort. Sex would be frequent, intimacy would develop rapidly, and the new mates would gorge themselves on each other’s bodies and company until the bond had time to cement itself.
Boy, had they really meant that stuff. If anything, the stories had underplayed the situation. Her desire for Mick had become like an itch under her skin, and if she didn’t scratch at regular intervals, the itch became a burning kind of ache. She thought he must be experiencing something similar, judging by how often he touched her, or kissed her, or bent her over the nearest horizontal surface and ravished her until her brains leaked out her ears.
It was fricking amazing, if a little hard on certain portions of her anatomy.
She grinned to herself and stood, leaving the softness of the overstuffed armchair behind her. A week may have passed, but Renny still preferred not to sit on Mick’s sofa if she could avoid it, and definitely not when she was alone. Some moments in her life did not need revisiting. Especially when there were so many more pleasant memories beginning to take their place.
Her stomach rumbled, and she padded through the deserted living room toward the kitchen. Time for lunch.
She’d sent Mick into his studio to work just after breakfast. It had taken some persuading (and a bribe that left her with an interesting bruise on her jawline and a patch of rug burn on one knee), but he’d admitted that the past week had put him behind on the deadline for his current manuscript. Renny had shooed him toward his drafting table with joking demands that he give her a chance to rest. But that had been hours ago, and some time alone with a good book had allowed her to work up another appetite. Or two.
Beginning to feel at home in her mate’s den, Renny raided the fridge for the makings of sandwiches and set up a mini assembly line on the table. The first day or two had felt really awkward for her. Mick did his best to make her welcome, but it was hard for her to shake the hostile impression he’d left before he accepted their mating. A part of her had still feared making him angry somehow, had thought that he’d change his mind again and go back to denying that he’d found a second mate. She thought it might have killed her if he had.
Renny snorted as she smeared mustard on rye. Thought, hell; at this point she knew her mate’s rejection would kill her. Their honeymoon phase had done its job, and she was now bonded to Mick Fischer with a vengeance.
It had helped when Zeke and Molly had dropped off all the items Renny had bought during the girls’ shopping trip. Not that she needed her own bed anymore, but that was stored in the loft above the garage, and at least she had clothing of her own now. It might be mostly secondhand, but it was hers and all of it fit the way it was supposed to. At this point, she could be grateful for the little things.
Of course, now that she’d moved in with a man and not another woman, she had started a mental list of things to buy on her next shopping trip. Mick had set up a perfectly functional bachelor household, but it could definitely use a woman’s touch.
Take, for instance, this lunch, she thought with a smile. Here she was loading plates and bowls and glasses onto a baking sheet, because what single man stopped to think he might need a serving tray at some point?
Next time, she promised herself. Once she got a little more settled and found herself a job, she’d let Molly take her on another spree. Earning money again might even make her feel something close to normal after all these months on the run.
Mick had left the door to his studio partway open so that he could hear her in case there was trouble. She had resisted rolling her eyes at the time, because she doubted even Geoffrey was stupid or suicidal enough to break in and try to snatch her from an alpha wolf’s den in the middle of the day while the wolf himself was there. But her mate insisted, and Renny had humored him. Now she was glad, because it meant she could just nudge the door open with her foot and carry their improvised lunch tray into his domain without having to juggle a hand free.
He must have heard or smelled her coming (and maybe the roast beef in the sandwiches, too), because he was already standing and reaching for the baking sheet when she stepped over the threshold. He grinned at her and set the burden on the top of a table near the wall.
“You’ve got
pretty good timing there, red.” He slipped his hands over her hips and tugged her against him, letting her bounce playfully off his rock-hard abdomen. “I was just thinking about getting myself something to nibble on.”
His wolfish grin drew an answering smile from her. She reached up and tangled her fingers in the back of his hair, leaning more heavily against him. She could feel his interest rising in his jeans.
“Is that right?” she purred, trying her most seductive voice. She hadn’t had all that many moves in her arsenal before Mick, but her mate seemed happy to let her test them out on him, no matter how pathetic she figured some of them must be. He was turning out to be an easy lay, and Renny was okay with that.
“Mm.” He suited action to words, nuzzling his way across her cheek to catch her earlobe between his teeth. She shivered at the sensation.
“Uh, maybe lunch can wait for a little while?” Renny wanted the question to come out all husky and inviting, but she feared it sounded more like a breathless squeak. Still, Mick didn’t seem to care.
He rocked his hips against her and tightened his grip, lifting her up and into his body. Automatically, her legs wrapped around him to maintain her balance.
“I’d say it can,” he growled just before his mouth claimed hers.
Good Goddess, but the man could kiss, she thought, the last coherent one she expected to have for a while. The rumble in her stomach had subsided to a much more demanding ache centered a few significant inches to the south. Right now, the only beef she wanted to taste was more appropriately termed beefcake.
The doorbell shattered the moment with a rude peal of chimes.
Mick tore his mouth from hers to glare in the direction of the front door. “Who the hell could that be? I hope whoever it is has a damned good reason for showing up uninvited, because I’m in the mood to pound something.”
Renny had hoped he’d be pounding her in just a minute, but instead, it looked like they were going to have company.
She hurried to follow him into the main part of the house, reluctantly obeying his gestured order to keep out of the direct line to the door until he had a chance to determine who was on the other side. Before he could ask, the bell rang again, followed by an impatient rapping of knuckles.
“I know you’re in there, young man,” a woman called out. She had the voice of someone older, strident, but a little thin, and the precision in her consonants made Renny think of a schoolteacher she’d known in her youth. Mrs. Bertram had come up with some fiendish punishments for anyone caught saying “yeah” instead of “yes” in her presence.
Without thinking, she straightened her spine and tugged her shirt into place. Some lessons just stuck with a girl.
Mick groaned and let his head drop back to his shoulders. He must have studied just as hard at some point.
“And I heard that,” the voice threw out peevishly. “If you can’t be bothered with pretending to be happy to see me, then I won’t fret about my manners and worry about ordering you around in your own home. Send that new mate of yours to the door instead. There’s a reason why we refer to a woman as a man’s better half, you know.”
Renny watched her mate disarm the security system with an expression normally reserved for the faces of five-year-olds about to be served brussels sprouts. He opened the door to a comfortable, gray-haired matron carrying a large alligator handbag and pursing her lips in disapproval.
“Hello, Marjory,” he intoned with all the enthusiastic energy of a pallbearer.
The woman didn’t wait to be invited inside. She swept over the threshold like a luxury ocean liner, all polished and shined and as unstoppable as an iceberg. Then her eyes settled on Renny, and her face dissolved into a delighted smile.
“There you are.” She extended her arms in a universal gesture of welcome and positively beamed at the younger woman. “You must be Ms. Landry. Young lady, I cannot tell you how delighted I am to hear you’ve decided to settle in Alpha. You, my dear, are the Goddess’s answer to my prayers.”
Wow, talk about the Welcome Wagon. Renny tried to digest the effusive greeting. “Thank you, um, Mrs.…”
“Oh, none of that, dear. My name is Mrs. Marjory Caples, but I expect you to call me Marjory. Mr. Caples died more than seven years ago, and you and I are going to be working together very closely for a while, so don’t stand on ceremony.”
The visitor certainly didn’t. Ignoring Mick as if he’d ceased to exist, the small senior citizen with the mighty presence drew Renny into the living room and settled them both on the sofa, half turned to face each other. Any minute, Renny expected to watch her snap her fingers at Mick and order him to ring for tea. The woman had that kind of presence.
“Thank you, Marjory,” she said, smiling and hoping her confusion didn’t overwhelm the effort. “Um, forgive me for sounding rude, but do we know each other?”
Renny knew very well they didn’t, even if the name sounded vaguely familiar, but demanding what the hell the old woman was doing here seemed rude. Not to mention that she got the distinct feeling Mrs. Marjory Caples wouldn’t take kindly to being ordered point-blank to state her business.
“Not yet.” The woman patted Renny’s hand where it still lay captive between her own. Her skin had that curiously soft and yet unsupple texture age seemed to bestow. “And that is why I have come to see you, Ms. Landry, so that we can get to know each other. I do believe very strongly that co-workers should establish rapport early, in order to minimize distractions and misunderstanding in the workplace.”
“Call me Renny, please,” she insisted, partly because it seemed inappropriate to call the woman Marjory while insisting on Ms. Landry for herself. The rest of the reason had to do more with buying herself a minute to think. Co-workers? What was the old woman talking about? Was she some kind of senile local eccentric that nobody in town had bothered to warn her about? “I’m just afraid that you might be a little confused. We don’t work together, Mrs.—uh … Marjory. In fact, at the moment, I don’t work anywhere. I’m kind of between jobs, since I just moved to town.”
Marjory chuckled and shook her head. “My dear, you’re really going to have to get a better grasp on the local gossip network if you’re going to survive in Alpha. No matter how big our population grows, we’re still a small town at heart. Nine out of ten of us had heard of your arrival before you even set foot downtown, and the other one was just sleeping late.”
Mick relocked and reset the alarm while Renny tried to keep up with their visitor’s chatter. She knew because she kept shooting him glances, wondering when the heck he was going to get around to rushing to her rescue. But judging by how long he took at the simple tasks, she got the sinking feeling he was debating just leaving her on her own and making a break for it.
Coward.
Finally, he joined them in the living room, but he managed to hover just inside the doorway, as if he still hadn’t decided not to bolt. “Marjory, what a surprise. I can’t say we were expecting you to drop by today.”
Renny tried to decipher her mate’s mood, but he had her baffled. On the one hand, he seemed to be treating the unexpected visitor with the formal respect of someone deferring to a valued elder in the community, but on the other, he looked like he had to grit his teeth to force the pleasantries from his lips.
Marjory returned his nod with a minute, but regal, tip of her chin. “Why, yes, thank you, Michael. A cup of tea sounds lovely. Something plain, please. A little milk, three sugars.”
Renny choked back a guffaw. She couldn’t decide which was funnier: the way Marjory just straight out ordered an alpha wolf around in his own den or the way Mick reacted to it. She wouldn’t have put it past him to kick their visitor out right then, prickly, private, my-home-is-my-castle male that he was, but he looked more amused than angry at being treated like a butler in his own house.
“I’ll be right back.” He made it sound like a vow, or possibly a threat, before retreating into the kitchen.
“Good. Now that’s
out of the way, we can talk.”
Marjory released Renny’s hand and neatly deposited the alligator bag on the low coffee table. She shrugged out of her coat, folded it, and draped it precisely over the top. When she turned back to Renny, her expression was serious and the look in her eyes sharp as nails. This was not a senile old woman. In fact, if Renny had to guess, she’d put the smart money on Marjory Caples having a mind like a steel trap and a will of pure titanium.
She could tell the woman was a shifter, which was to be expected in Alpha, but for a second after she caught the scent, the identity of Marjory’s animal eluded her.
Was that … She sniffed again. Oh, my goodness, was that wolverine she smelled coming from the prim and immaculately dressed matron? She let the thought percolate in the back of her mind while she waited for the other woman to explain herself.
Marjory smoothed the knees of the tweed trousers and fixed Renny with a level stare. “I hope you’ll forgive me for not giving you more time to settle in, Renny, but I’m too excited and too determined to wait. I had to come today, as soon as I spoke to Molly.”
“Molly?”
“Your friend. Molly Buchanan.” Marjory nodded. “She stopped by the library on her way to work today to return a few books, and she filled me in on a few details about your background.”
She must have seen the look of discomfort on Renny’s face, because she hurried to reassure her. “Oh, I don’t mean your personal history, dear. Although Alpha is a small town, so you’d be wise to give up any expectations of privacy right now and save yourself some headaches. No, I mean that Molly told me of your professional background. Are you really a qualified librarian?”
No one had ever asked Renny that question in quite the same tone of voice. Oh, she’d gotten used to disbelief, but the suppressed excitement was entirely new. She frowned and offered a puzzled smile.
“I have my master’s degree in information sciences, if that’s what you mean,” she said, still confused. “But mostly, I’ve just worked as an associate reference librarian.”
Baby, I'm Howling for You Page 13