Baby, I'm Howling for You

by Christine Warren

  Mick’s wolf approved wholeheartedly of the lioness’s show of loyalty, and so did Mick himself. He was just too busy trying to control his urge to go kill someone to unclench his jaw and tell her so.

  Jaeger’s expression lightened with amusement. “Sheathe your claws, kitten. We’re not going to let anything happen to your friend. We’ve already got the search under way. See those colored areas?” He gestured toward the bulletin board and its highlighted, marked-up map. “Those are the sections of the search grid we established yesterday. We had men out there all afternoon, and they hit the ground running this morning. No one is wasting any time here. We will find this coyote, and we will deal with him.”

  “Can the dealing include the introduction of his balls to a peavey hook, in true Pacific Northwestern style?”

  Mick took in Molly’s evil expression. Then he remembered what a peavey was and pictured her wielding the long-handled spike with its pivoting hook attachment. He reflexively crossed his legs and eased a little farther away. He caught Zeke and Jaeger doing something similar.

  “At this point, I don’t care about making him suffer or pay or whatever.” Renny sighed. “I just want him to go away and leave me alone. I’m ready to have a life for a change.”

  “We’ll make it happen,” Mick assured her. He tugged her close and nuzzled her hair. “Whatever it takes, even if it kills him.”

  “Duh, that would be the fun part.” Molly looked as if she were still picturing what she could do with some uninterrupted Hilliard time and a few of her favorite logging tools.

  Jaeger eyed her warily. “How about we concentrate on finding Hilliard for the moment, and worry about what’s going to happen to him later? The quicker we locate the bastard, the quicker we can all have our turn to chat with him.”

  Mick bared his fangs. “Me first.”

  Oh, yeah. He had plans.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Having a boss who considered her the answer to a personal prayer and was desperate to ensure she didn’t get away kind of rocked. Renny made certain to express her thanks to Marjory for giving her a couple of hours off this morning for the latest meeting in the mayor’s office, but the older woman waved away her words.

  “I have a vested interest in making sure you stay safe, young lady,” she said. “I’m more likely to berate the mayor for not doing enough to protect you, especially after hearing about the latest stunt those coyotes pulled. I’ve been running this library on my own for forty years now. I can manage as many more mornings as it takes to get you safe and this sorry business dealt with.”

  “You are amazing,” Renny said, meaning every word.

  Marjory laughed. “What I am, my dear, is desperate. You’re the first qualified librarian to come through this town in more than a decade. I would hunt this Hilliard fellow down myself before I let you get away. Now, let’s take a look at last year’s budget. You’ll want to familiarize yourself, because we’ll be starting on next year by the end of this month.”

  Honestly, Renny felt grateful to spend the rest of her day working. Not only had she been dying to return to a library for months now, but focusing on learning how to take over Marjory’s role kept her too busy to worry about anything else. Such as when Geoffrey might strike again, and whether or not her mate was off doing something foolish, like going after the coyote all by himself.

  He hadn’t said that’s what he had planned, but he’d been pretty evasive when he’d dropped her off at the library after they left the town hall. He had told her to have a good day, promised to pick her up at six, and tap-danced around her questions as to what he’d be doing all afternoon. Part of the time, she imagined, he’d have to spend arranging for someone to clean up the mess Geoffrey had left in their house and get the broken windows replaced, but she knew that wouldn’t take him all day. She supposed that as long as he kept his promise to return by six, there was only so much trouble he could get into.

  Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

  He had arranged for a deputy to remain all day to guard her, which she thought was overkill and he insisted was the least paranoid plan he’d been able to come up with regarding her protection. When he’d started mumbling about cotton wool and how big a papoose it would take to hold someone her size, she’d let it drop. But her worry lingered until he pushed through the library’s heavy old door right on the dot of six.

  Her face lit up in a smile, and she heard Marjory chuckle beside her. “Go on, now, young lady. We’re done for today, but I’ll expect you at nine o’clock tomorrow, barring any unforeseen emergencies.”

  Renny grimaced. “Yeah, let’s hope we’re done with those.”

  The women exchanged goodbyes, and Renny gathered up her things and followed her mate to the door. He kept a protective hand on her back and his gaze moving on the short walk to the curb where he had parked. His expression remained relaxed, but she could feel the tension in him and noticed that it didn’t really ease up when they got moving.

  “No news about Geoffrey, huh?”

  He glanced at her briefly. “No. We covered another couple of sections of our grid, but so far no one has reported anything but old tracks.”

  “We?” She raised an eyebrow and fixed him with a stern gaze. “Which areas did you and your partner cover, my mate?”

  “Relax, little red.” His smile flashed as he navigated past the bed-and-breakfast where they had spent last night. “I heard you when you asked me not to go running off on my own.”

  Renny turned to look at the pretty blue house receding behind them, then back at her mate. “Um, did I miss the part of our day where you told me we weren’t staying here in town again?”

  “I had some folks out to the house this afternoon to get things cleaned up, and to upgrade the security system. I thought we’d both be more comfortable at home tonight.”

  She could definitely get behind that. It might have been only a little over two weeks, but Renny already thought of the small house in the woods as home. His den had become theirs, and she’d always feel most secure inside it.

  It also didn’t hurt that she’d rather not involve any innocent bystanders in her problems until they managed to catch Geoffrey. That included sweet, kindly innkeepers who made her pots of hot chocolate and left plates of cookies on the nightstand.

  “As long as they got the stink out.”

  “Trust me, I gave them very specific instructions. And helped open all the damned windows myself.”

  His grumpy tone made her grin and also served to distract her as they drove past the spot where the truck had been ambushed last night. No evidence lingered to indicate what had happened. Morning rain showers had even washed away the clumps of mud kicked up by their tires when Mick had steered them off the road. The forest looked empty and peaceful, but Renny couldn’t quite shake off her lingering tension.

  It could be the natural wariness that came from knowing that someone who wanted to harm her was still out there somewhere, but she suspected that didn’t explain all of it. In the chaos of dealing with being attacked, finding their home invaded, and making plans to find Geoffrey, she hadn’t forgotten that she and Mick had never really finished the argument she had started about their relationship. The stubborn wolf still hadn’t told her he loved her.

  At least now she felt pretty confident that he did. He had shown her that and had even hinted at it with words, but a little voice inside Renny wanted to hear it from his lips in plain English. Not for her benefit as much as for his. He had vowed to protect her, indicated that he wouldn’t survive losing her the way he had his first mate, but he still hadn’t come out and said, “Renny, I love you.” Until he did, she would be stuck wondering if he still resented having their mating thrust upon him or if he was ready to move forward and build their future together.

  Mick tried to shove down the nerves boiling in his belly, but the things turned out to move faster and slipperier than a litter of baby otters. Last night, Renny had told him that sh
e loved him, but she hadn’t exactly offered the words as a tender vow of devotion. She’d pretty much thrown them down like a gauntlet and dared him to say them back to her. As if three little words could encompass the way he felt about his redheaded she-wolf.

  Love didn’t begin to describe it. He needed Renny, the same way he needed his heart to beat or his lungs to fill up with air. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t wormed her way so far inside of him that she hadn’t become his heart, taking over the very act of pumping the blood through his veins. Damn it, but he could swear he felt her fingers there inside his chest, squeezing and releasing in steady rhythm.

  Even before last night’s attack, he had known he was in love, and not because he recognized the feeling from his first mating. He’d actually been dealing with a profound sense of shame over the realization that what he felt for Renny eclipsed anything he’d ever had with Beth. He had loved Beth with his whole heart, but he’d never felt for her the things he did for Renny. He had killed for his first mate, but he hadn’t died for her. For Renny, he knew he wouldn’t even have the choice.

  There had been no conscious choice with Beth. He had believed for a long time that it had only been the need for vengeance that had kept him from following her into the beyond. Eventually, he’d thought the bitterness of losing her would dry up, and he would go ahead and join her in death. In fact, you could say that for more than eight years now, he’d been sitting around waiting to die. Only now, because of Renny, he was living in painful, vibrant Technicolor.

  His new mate had brought him back to life, but she seemed oblivious to that fact. Hell, he was an artist, wasn’t he? Maybe he could just draw her a damned picture.

  Mick pulled his truck to a stop in front of the house and raced around the hood to help Renny down before she could just jump for it. Something in him compelled him to physically lead her in to her surprise, so he folded his fingers around hers and tugged her up the porch steps.

  She looked down at the freshly restained boards. “Wow, remind me to make a Yelp recommendation for whoever you used to clean this place up. You can’t even tell there was ever any deer blood here. They did a fantastic job.”

  Rolling his eyes, Mick pulled her to the front door and fished out his keys. He was trying to set a romantic mood here, and his mate was talking about bloodstains and deer carcasses.

  “Wait till you see how they did the inside.”

  Renny lifted her face and sniffed. “So far, I can’t smell a thing. I mean, I can’t smell anything out of place. No Geoffrey on the porch, at least.”

  “Coyotes have been permanently banished,” he grumbled, and led the way inside. Immediately, he closed and locked the door and turned to the new and more elaborate security pad beside the entry. “The security company did a total upgrade,” he explained as he gave her the new access code. “The mayor authorized it, so now anytime the alarm activates here, it immediately notifies the Alpha Sheriff’s Department. You can call to give them a safe word in case of a false alarm, but they can be here in less than ten minutes from the time they get the signal.”

  Renny wrinkled her nose. “Okay, so I know that’s a good thing from a safety standpoint, but it’s going to make me paranoid to open the door. I’ll be afraid of setting it off every darned time. One too many false alarms and the deputies will hate me.”

  He looked down at her. “Deal. I don’t care if every single resident of the state of Washington hates you, as long as you’re safe. Understand?”

  She sighed and patted his chest. “Okay, Cujo. Maybe I’ll just bake them preemptive cookies, or something.”

  With the alarm activated, Mick hung up their coats and led her through the living room. Everything looked neat and orderly, just the way it had before Geoffrey had been there. A few knickknacks might be missing, but the furniture had been repaired, the pictures rehung, and the debris vacuumed up as if it had never happened.

  Renny made approving noises as she looked around, and he could see her taking deep breaths to scent the air. Carpet steamers, open windows, furniture polish, and a lot of elbow grease had dispelled the coyote miasma. Her smile told him she had noticed.

  “Come on.” He nudged her toward the bedroom. “Come and make sure the cleaners didn’t toss away anything you wanted to try to salvage.”

  She dragged her feet a little on their way down the hall. “What was there to salvage? If Geoffrey touched it, I sure as hell don’t want it anywhere near me anymore. And as for the things he pissed on? Ugh, don’t make me gag.”

  “Just take a look,” he urged, positioning her in the doorway and then swinging the door open in front of her.

  He heard her gasp and glanced down to make sure it wasn’t for any of the wrong reasons. Her lips had parted and her eyes had gone wide, and he thought he saw a shimmer of tears glaze over them.

  Panic threatened.

  Renny stepped forward, staring at the changes to their den’s inner sanctum. The bedroom had been completely transformed, from new flooring and rugs to new paint and curtains. It looked like the “after” picture from one of those guerrilla home makeover shows, and it smelled of vanilla and spice and home, not a trace of coyote to be found.

  The walls, once deep blue and cavelike, had been lightened to a pale, smoky slate color that managed to be both light and cozy. Navy curtains had disappeared, leaving the windows looking larger and brighter with their frames of filmy white. All of the trim in the room had been repainted white as well, giving it a cleaner, more open look that softened its formerly masculine edges. The old carpet had disappeared, replaced by dark walnut planks and accented by a subtly pattered rug in shades of gray. Its placement drew attention to the room’s new centerpiece.

  Gone was the bed the coyote had broken and defiled. In its place, Mick had chosen to decorate their shared space with the bed she had bought on her shopping trip with Molly, only it, too, had been transformed. The battered, functional tester she remembered with its scratched finish and two missing top rails now stood as a graceful four-poster. She couldn’t even see where the remains of the canopy frame had been removed, because the tops of the posts had been decorated with classic acorn-style finials. The entire piece had been painted a rich ebony to match the espresso color of the dresser and nightstand Mick had already owned. The dark finish contrasted beautifully with the thick, fluffy duvet, which sported a silver-on-white, leafing branch design. A spray of pillows in shades of blue, gray, and deep burgundy added a pop of color and made Renny want to fling herself into the pile and roll around like a puppy.

  Her mate had done this for her. He had transformed what had been his bedroom—a masculine bachelor’s quarters—into something for both of them, a combination of the bed she had chosen and the pieces he had owned for years. He’d made the room softer and more inviting without adding frills or girly bits that didn’t suit him, and he’d clearly looked at the items she had planned to use in her bedroom at Molly’s apartment to get an idea of her taste in colors and textures. He’d done it all in one day, and he had done it to make her happy.

  Renny’s eyes welled up and she started to turn around, gratitude and praise on her lips, but something else caught her eye. She tried to remember what had been there before—nothing? a clothes hamper? a pile of muddy boots?—but her mind had gone blank. All she could see was her vanity table, looking regal and elegant and as perfect as if it had just left the cabinetmaker’s workroom, sitting in pride of place on the wall beside the bathroom door.

  Gone was the peeling, discolored paint. The mirror gleamed, reflecting the light from the bedside lamps, and the surface of the table looked so smooth and shiny, she thought she could trace every single grain of the wood through the dark, polished finish. It was perfect, exactly the way she’d pictured it in her head when she’d rescued it from the bargain section of the dusty antiques shop.

  The tears started in earnest, and when she finally turned to face Mick, her mate took one look at her wet cheeks and red eyes and went
whiter than the new curtains.

  “What is it? Baby, what’s wrong?” he demanded. He reached out to grasp her shoulder, hands rubbing soothingly up and down her arms. “Whatever you don’t like, we can change it. I can get rid of it right now. Tell me what should go. The rug? I’ll toss it. You don’t like the colors? You can pick out new paint first thing in the morning, I swear. Just don’t cry, little red. You’re killing me.”

  “I’m killing you?” She half laughed and half sobbed, the sound catching in her throat. “You just destroyed me, Michael Kennedy Fischer, and I will love you forever for it.”

  His mate threw herself into his arms and kissed him as if he were a soldier who had just returned from war, thus rendering him utterly and hopelessly confused. He wasn’t dumb, though. He returned the kiss, with interest. It tasted salty and sweet and absolutely perfect, just like her.

  He got to savor it for only a moment before she pulled away and began peppering his face with equally enthusiastic but much less intimate kisses. He had to close his eyes to keep from taking lips to the eyeball. Huh. Maybe he hadn’t actually done anything wrong?

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she chanted in between pecks, and he finally had to pull her away for a moment in order to get a look at her and figure out what was going on.

  “Can I take it this means I did something right?”

  She wriggled until she could reach to give him one more smacking kiss. “You did amazing. I can’t believe this. How on earth did you get this all done so quickly? It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since this place looked like a disaster area.”

  Mick didn’t need the reminder. The sight of the destruction Geoffrey Hilliard had left in his home was seared into his memory. “I called in a few favors.”

  And threw money around as if it were confetti, he admitted to himself. But, so what? His mate deserved it, and he deserved to see her looking happy and excited instead of tense and worried. The history of their mating so far looked like the design schematics for a theme park thrill ride, and redecorating their bedroom was his way of trying for something more along the lines of a romantic chick flick.