He brushed the tickle at the tip of his ear in an attempt to flick away the nearly imperceptible howl pestering his conscience.
Gavin straightened in his chair. “When I spoke to Adam this morning, he reluctantly admitted that you’ve been missing since Thursday. Needless to say, he was quite relieved when I explained that you had arrived safely Saturday night.”
The blood in Brice’s veins chilled. “How do you know when I returned?”
“Cooter spotted you at Gilmer’s Bend.” Gavin paused. “That’s a dangerous waterway. Don’t swim it again. I don’t want the wolflings to emulate that stunt. It’s bad enough they continue to tease Cybil because of that stupid prank you and Rafe played.”
Brice didn’t argue. He didn’t want any of the youngsters getting hurt, either. If he’d known their teenaged pig-wrangling adventure would turn into a rite of passage for the wolflings, well, he probably would’ve done it anyway. He and Rafe had the best time of their lives freeing Cybil from the pen in their human forms, then corralling her as wolves. Cybil had been neither afraid of them nor willing to return to her sty. By the time they wrangled her back inside the pen, he and Rafe had more than their fair share of cuts and bruises and a few broken ribs.
“Anyway, Cooter called after your mother and I left the hospital. I brought Abby home and told her I needed to run. I was too late to catch you before you reached the cabin.” The corners of his father’s eyes stretched into a smile more than his lips. “You and Miss Albright gave me quite a show. I trust she didn’t cause permanent damage to your balls.”
If Brice didn’t know better, he’d swear that his father was teasing him. However, he did know better. Gavin Walker never teased.
Brice placed both feet flat on the floor. “Why didn’t you come for me afterward?”
“I didn’t want you taking off again. Your grandmother needed you, and you needed to be with her. Now that she’s gone, I want—”
“Allow me the decency to see her laid to rest before you kick me out again.”
A dark, unsettling look crossed his father’s face. “As you wish.” He tossed Brice a set of keys and a cell phone. “Your mother prepared your old room in the hope you would return.”
Brice wanted to project his negotiator’s face. The blank one that gave no hint to his thoughts or emotions.
He failed.
First his eyes bugged. He felt the tightness behind the orbs as they bulged forward. An immediate dryness followed, since his eyelids were stuck wide-open.
Next his jaw went slack. Thank God his mouth didn’t drop open, spilling nonsensical prattle. For chrissakes, did his father think he would ever sleep under the same roof with him again?
Hell, no. Sixteen years were more than plenty.
“I’ll remain at the cabin,” Brice said, glad that his voice sounded normal.
“Ah, that brings me to the matter of Miss Albright.” Gavin folded his hands over his waist and swiveled his chair side to side in a slow sweep.
“Granny’s will deeds the cabin to me unless you force me to forfeit.” Brice paused, bracing for an epic battle. A banished pack member couldn’t own property inside the territory.
When his father shook his head to indicate he wouldn’t interfere, Brice’s insides jarred as if he’d stopped suddenly on a roller-coaster ride.
“Good.” He cleared the rattle from his voice. “Granny asked that I take care of Cassie. I plan to give her full use of the cabin when I return to Atlanta. Until then, we’ll share the space.” And a bed, though his father didn’t need to know that tidbit.
“Perhaps you should rent her an apartment in Maico, or give her money to find other accommodations.”
“She refused to let me pay for an oil change. I doubt she’ll take rent money.”
“Son, people might misconstrue the circumstances.”
“I don’t care what people think.”
“Do you know who her mother was?” Gavin’s disapproval swamped the room.
“What the hell does that matter?” Brice didn’t judge people based on their parentage or anything else except their own merit.
“Imogene Struthers.”
The name detonated the room.
The deafening percussion banged in Brice’s ears. Oh, yeah, he knew of Imogene Struthers. A pretty little drunk who’d slept with men for money when she ran out of her own. Brice’s father had ordered the pack’s unmated males to stay away from her. He didn’t want the taint infecting the pack.
Brice hadn’t known Imogene had a daughter. “Cassie isn’t like her mother.”
“You just met her. How can you be sure?”
Because yesterday morning, with steel in her eyes and grit in her voice, Cassie declared she didn’t want or need Brice’s money, and he believed her. The apple might not fall far from the tree, but it sure as hell could roll from beneath its shadow.
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Very well.” Gavin’s thumb tapped against the silver wedding band on his finger. “Go see Doc. Get a good physical and whatever else he feels you need.”
Since his father dropped the issue of questioning Cassie’s character, Brice’s mood mellowed. “I had a checkup three months ago. Shots updated and everything.”
Gavin’s commanding look rubbed Brice raw; however, since he was no longer in hiding, Brice had planned to visit the pack physician for his bouts of nausea anyway.
“While you’re in town, take time to visit the pack,” Gavin ordered.
“I’m not here to socialize.”
“They’ve missed you. And you missed a lot of important events in their lives.”
Just when Brice thought they’d manage to remain civil for an entire conversation, his father had to bring up a matter that needed no spark before the explosion. Raging frustration unhinged Brice’s control. He jumped to his feet and stalked to his father’s desk.
“I’ve missed important events?” His fists slammed the mahogany desk, knocking over a crystal picture frame. He snatched up the photo of a tawny adolescent wolf and a black wolfling pup and shoved it toward his father’s displeased face. “What important events have you missed?”
Brice didn’t give him a chance to reply as he began to pace. “Where were you when I lost my first tooth or the first time I shifted? Oh, who took me on my first hunt? Sure as hell wasn’t you.
“What about explaining puberty? Or teaching me how to drive? Didn’t see you at either of my college commencements, and I bet you don’t give a damn that I received a perfect score on my bar exam. On my first attempt.”
Brice gripped the back of his empty chair. “You had time for Mason’s important events. Never mine.”
“Is jealousy what’s been eating you all this time?”
“God, no.” Exasperated, Brice wanted to wrap his fingers around his father’s neck—not tightly enough to cause physical harm. He’d simply throttle him until he understood. Instead, he threw his hands in the air. “Mason was there for me, every single time, when it should’ve been you. Now he’s gone and you still don’t get it.”
“Son, calm down.” Gavin stood, his fingers spread wide as the motion of his hands echoed his words.
“Fuck you.” Brice slammed the door on his way out.
Chapter 13
Engaging the four-wheel drive, Brice turned off Shelley Highway onto a washed-out road that corkscrewed up Bluebird Mountain. Glimpses of the MacGregor antebellum flickered through a grove of large oaks dripping with Spanish moss.
From a distance, the homestead bespoke an old Southern charm. Up close, twining vines strangled the Roman columns anchoring the portico. Woody runners choked the wrought iron railings, and mutant veins streaked across the entire antiquated structure.
Two jostling miles farther, the dirt road dead-ended. Brice
stopped and climbed out of the truck. The warm breeze caressing his face carried no distinguishable scent, yet his stomach, already churning, somersaulted.
Out of his hip pocket, he pulled a plastic zip bag containing a pair of Cassie’s unmentionables. Ordinarily he didn’t snoop through a woman’s lingerie or steal it. Desperation over the debilitating nausea had forced him to become a petty panty thief.
He opened the bag and breathed in her scent. The unconventional remedy quieted his stomach. He hoped the effect would last until he saw Cassie later. Her scent was damn near irresistible. He planned to inhale her sweetness in giant lungfuls all night long.
She could fuss all she wanted about sharing his bed because regardless of her propriety, Little Miss Albright was a world-class snuggler. She enjoyed sleeping next to him, whether or not she admitted it.
Brice placed his folded clothes on the seat. The panty bag, keys and cell phone he tossed into the glove compartment.
Dropping to all fours, he craned his neck, then stretched his back. The mild shock from the shift energy rushed down his spine, stinging his nerves. Black fur sprouted from his skin as the morph of muscle, bone and tendons reshaped man into wolf. He lifted his muzzle and threw back a low, mournful howl.
Head and eyes lowered, he trotted to a small cove. Time had erased all traces of violence. Thin, towering trees shielded the lush foliage, although a few diligent sunbeams managed to trickle through the dense canopy in an attempt to warm the damp, musky thicket. He pawed the greedy ground that had lapped his brother’s blood. The thick mud stuck to Brice’s pads like a decrepit paste.
Five years ago, he and Mason weren’t hunting to kill. They were simply exercising and enjoying one another’s company. Absorbed in tracking an unfamiliar scent, Brice didn’t notice the trap until the clamp of sharp metal teeth ripped through his flesh and snapped his bones. His first reaction had been a howl of pain.
Mason shifted into his human form to free Brice’s leg. The old, rusty snare refused to budge. Neither of them knew rogues stalked the area until they appeared on the ridge.
Brice begged Mason to run. Instead, Mason went wolf, howling an alarm for any sentinels within range. Then he engaged the rogue pack alone.
Brice shifted into his human form to free himself, knowing the morph would cause more damage to his leg, but the rogues outnumbered Mason. Four to one, five to one. Brice couldn’t remember.
So much blood poured from the wounds, his fingers kept slipping over the spring, wasting too many precious seconds. When the latch finally released, Brice shifted back into his wolf. Blocking the excruciating pain of his dangling leg, he charged three-footed toward the fight.
He bouldered two wolves off Mason. The first rolled to his paws, rounded on Brice and sank his teeth into Brice’s side, slamming him to the ground. The other wolf launched for the kill.
Twisting his hips, Brice dislodged the first in time to catch the second by the throat. Dirt and fur coated his tongue, and the metallic taste of blood made him gag. Still, he clamped his jaw and yanked.
The sickening sound of ripping flesh and the gurgle of blood followed. The rogue wolf thudded to the ground, a lifeless man.
Snarling, his partner slashed Brice’s shoulder to the bone. Brice’s retaliatory bite laid open the wolf’s hindquarter. Yelping, the wounded wolf scampered away. Two others charged.
Mason intercepted one, evening the odds.
Brice’s head swarmed from the blood pouring from his wounds. The enemy wolf stayed just out of reach, wearing Brice down until he had little strength.
Brice glanced at his brother. One wolf had engaged Mason, distracting him from the mangy gray moving in.
“Mason! Left!” Brice’s warning came too late. His brother collapsed, blood spurting from his throat.
The horror lasted less than a second before Brice became engulfed in a black rage. He sensed rather than saw the remaining wolves turn on him. Everything blurred in a fury of fur and fangs.
When his vision cleared, four rogues lay dead, their human bodies nothing more than bloody heaps. Barely able to walk, Brice struggled to reach his brother’s side.
Brice shifted and hauled Mason’s human form against his chest. He pressed his hand over Mason’s gushing neck wound.
The thick, coppery scent of blood and the putrid stench of death cloyed Brice’s nose. He gagged, yet the sound that escaped the tear in his throat sounded like gurgling wheeze.
Willing his life into his brother, he clung to Mason until, weak from his own blood loss, Brice slipped into darkness without ever saying goodbye.
Saying it now seemed too little, too late.
He circled the spot where he’d lost his brother, his mentor, his hero. Grief turned to anger. Brice’s throat ached from the strain of unshed tears.
You should’ve left me, Mace. I should’ve died. Not you. Now Granny’s gone, too.
Brice plopped on the ground, his head resting between his paws. His heavy sigh lifted a leaf from its spot in front of his nose.
A light breeze ruffled Brice’s fur, though the woods were eerily still.
Kill them. Kill them all. Mason’s last words resounded in Brice’s mind as clear as the day his brother had imparted them to him employing the telepathic ability Wahyas manifested in their wolfan forms.
And Brice had done exactly what Mason had asked of him. He’d killed every last one of those damn fucking rogues. Hadn’t he?
* * *
Waiting for her tea to heat in the microwave, Cassie scarfed down a container of yogurt. Loss and loneliness muted the elation of breezing through her exam. She missed sharing good news with Margaret.
Now that she was gone, the Walkers had no reason to continue Cassie’s housing arrangement.
A quick rundown of her finances amounted to zilch. It had been only a few months ago that she’d paid off the credit card debt her mother had racked up under Cassie’s Social Security number. And Cassie didn’t want to spend her tiny savings to cover deposits on an apartment that she needed for only a few months.
The microwave dinged. Cassie collected her mug with all her dignity and a whopping load of anxiety, and left to clock in.
Dirty apartments, cheap motel rooms, a run-down RV, a tent, a dilapidated trailer—those were the homes Cassie and Imogene had shared. All were better than living on the streets, which is where Cassie would end up if she couldn’t figure out an alternative. No matter how hard she worked, Cassie had no better luck than her mother.
“Cassie, come to my office.” Abigail Walker continued past the registration counter.
Cassie’s clenched stomach twisted into a pretzel knot. She sat in one of the mahogany chairs with button-tufted black leather. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Mrs. Walker.”
“Thank you, Cassie. If you hadn’t been there to help Margaret on Friday night, she might have slipped away before Brice had a chance to see her again.” Abigail stroked the flat desk calendar, meticulously smoothing the curled edges into the blotter. “Gavin told me that Brice spent the last two nights at the cabin.” Her gaze locked on Cassie. “With you.”
Cassie kept her chin up, her shoulders straight, although her toes gripped the inside of her shoes. The words “Your services are no longer required” dangled over her head, a guillotine blade ready to finish the hack job delivered by bad karma.
“You should’ve had the decency to tell me.” Abigail’s censure slapped Cassie’s heart.
“I didn’t want to betray his trust.” Knowing she’d done the right thing didn’t ease Cassie’s guilt.
“I am his mother. I had a right to know.”
“Brice asked for my silence and I gave it. He’s an adult. I am not his keeper.”
“I see.” The faint folds around Abigail’s mouth elongated her frown. She gathered the papers on her desk.
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Cassie inched down in her chair, envisioning her future capsizing in slow motion. If she lost her job, she would have to quit college. And Cassie couldn’t let that happen. She’d worked long and hard and sacrificed everything to get this far. If she fell flat now, she might not gain the momentum to get up again.
Although her nerves jumped, Cassie’s grip remained steady, accepting the printout Abigail handed to her.
Cassie skimmed the upcoming bookings. “Is something wrong with the reservations?”
“We’re closing the resort for Margaret’s memorial service. We expect a large number of friends and associates to come. I want you to call everyone on that list to reschedule their reservations. All the current guests need to vacate the premises no later than Wednesday afternoon. Express our regrets and make alternative arrangements as necessary.”
Cassie thumbed through the pages. More names than not were guests she had assisted. Her rapport might make them more amenable to the disruption in their plans. In light of her own upheavals, she could fully empathize.
“One more thing,” Abigail said crisply, and Cassie snapped her attention back to her employer. “Margaret’s property now belongs to Brice. You will need to speak to him about your housing situation. Whatever he decides, Gavin and I won’t interfere.”
“I understand.” Cassie kept her poise professional despite the sinking feeling rising in the pit of her stomach. She’d been homeless before, and Cassie had hoped and prayed that the latest time really had been the last time. But she knew all too well that her prayers were seldom answered.
Chapter 14
The cell phone cradled to the dashboard rang. One of the resort’s outgoing numbers flashed across the screen. Brice pressed the Bluetooth button on the steering wheel.
“Where are you?” his father demanded over the speakers.
Disappointment preceded Brice’s annoyance. He’d expected Cassie. “Driving into Maico to see Doc as commanded. Why?”
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