Jenni's idea is a seamless one. Pay it forward, Devin had said.
Okay. “You have a place to live?”
Devin's chin lifts. “Yeah, I got an apartment. Me and Ella, we do okay.”
Poor thing. An image of that fuckwit Bray rises to the surface of Jenni's brain. There's something about him, something she can't quite put her finger on. She shakes off her misgivings. “I'm sure you do. But how long will it take before Bray comes calling.”
Devin bites her lip then releases it. Jenni watches fresh color bloom where the flesh was pinched. “He hasn't come around in a long time. I didn't even know he knew where I work.”
Jenni's so tired, it feels like the beach has just landed inside her eyes. She wants to rub her grainy, itchy eyeballs out of her face. And she's grimy. God.
An exhausted sigh slips out. “Why don't we grab Ella, and you can come to my place?”
Devin lifts an eyebrow. “I don't know you, and no offense, something weird as fuck is going on with ya.” Her eyebrows shoot up.
Jenni nods. Devin's not exactly enlightening her of the new situation.
“Yeah.” She adjusts her position in the driver's seat of Devin's small car, “I'm aware. If you just wait here, I'll go to my car and grab my purse and keys, get back here, and we can go get your girl and go to my house.”
“Why?” Devin asks. “Because this is—this messes with my kid's head.”
“No.” Jenni shakes her head. “What'll mess with Ella's head is Bray showing up, whacked out of his mind, and maybe hurting you guys.”
Devin's hands fly to her mouth, and her eyes are wide.
“Come on, you had to have thought of that possible scenario already.” Jenni searches her face and comes up with... no. Devin clearly hadn't ever really thought Bray making an appearance was a possibility—until tonight, when he and his posse of asshats jumped out like jacks-in-the-box.
Jenni attempts an explanation. “I feel like me being at your work caused you to be late. That if I hadn't been there, you'd have already been gone when Bray arrived.”
Devin's eyebrows pop, her lips flattening. “Okay, what happened is so many levels of fucked up, but you're not to blame. Nope.” Devin holds up her hands stubbornly. “Bray's a nut job. He doesn't need any help with that part. You being there”—Devin shrugs, chin trembling as more tears begin to fall—“he would've just shown up eventually. I'm glad you were there.” Her soft brown eyes are intense when they meet Jenni's, and her jaw clenches as she angrily flings tears with her shaking fingers. “You-you saved me. Bray and his dudes”—she spits the word—“they would have done bad stuff to me and robbed my work.”
All of that sounds spot-on to Jenni.
“So let me pay it forward, Devin.” Jenni latches on to Devin's gaze. “Let me get my stuff and take you to my place. Protect you and Ella.”
Devin looks at her and doesn't ask Jenni how she'd protect them. After all, she was in that parking lot and watched Jenni lay out three large men.
She licks her lips, all traces of her blackish-purple lipstick gone. “But what about you?”
It's Jenni's turn to look at her hands. “I'm going to have to go. Find other people like me.”
She looks at Devin. Part of her face obscured by a streetlamp; the other half is cast in deep shadow.
Seconds tick by, and the silence is loud inside the vehicle.
“Will you wait?”
Devin nods, and Jenni takes her at her word, sliding out of the car and shutting the door softly before she loses her courage. With a last glance over her shoulder, Jenni jogs toward the underground parking garage. She isn't out of breath when she arrives.
Not even a little.
Yesterday, she was as weak as a kitten, still recovering from the chemo and radiation, unable to believe that the treatment had made her sicker than the disease that was killing her.
Now she feels invincible.
It's a heady feeling. It's also terrifying. Jenni doesn't have answers. She has a bunch of questions. And she knows exactly who could help her.
But Adi's not here right now, and Jenni lassoed an innocent young woman into the chaotic weirdness her life has become in a matter of hours.
Instinctively, Jenni lifts her chin, flaring her nostrils. The move is as automatic as breathing.
Her chin drops. Eyes piercing the gloom surrounding her, Jenni scents no one. And something deep within tells her she would if they were near. Her acute senses discern the smell of death, disease, illness from the bowels of the hospital, and the products used to treat and disinfect all that. But it's a vague mix of scents. Broad. Unimportant.
What's real is her own scent, disease still threading through the unique signature, which Jenni tracks directly to her car.
*
Jenni tries the handle. Her VW rabbit came with her parentsʼ death, along with all the rest of their possessions. It'd been her mom's grocery getter.
Locked. Of course it is. Jenni's hot with security, unless she's busting out werewolves from the hospital via the morgue.
Shit.
She sees her purse and coat right inside. Scanning the murk of the parking garage, making certain she remains unobserved, Jenni sinks to her haunches, feeling around under the wheel well. Seeking the magnetic box that holds her spare key fob, Jenni's fingertips stumble over the rectangle of cold metal, and she tugs hard, loosening the connection of magnet to steel. The top of her hand hits the car with the force of the pull, and she yelps.
“Ouch!” Jenni hisses, cradling her hand. She sucks the blood that wells to the surface of her skin. Just what I need.
She stands, hand throbbing, and pushes the automatic button on the archaic fob, and the locks bounce to attention inside the interior of the car.
Jenni opens the door and reaches inside. Hauling out her colorful paisley Vera Bradley purse, she slings it over her shoulder to diagonally cross her body.
She hates the idea of getting blood on it and sighs. Rooting around in the compartmentalized depths, she extracts her cell phone and immediately presses her thumb to the button for security. The display lights and she sees the power stands at only eight percent.
Of course, there are no texts.
Lance of Pud Wackers Unite no longer phones, and her friends have all distanced themselves—too unsure what to say or do when their friend is dying.
So they don't do or say anything.
Grief, regret, and sadness try to have their way with her, and she beats the shit out of those three like she's done a number of times before.
Taking a deep breath, Jenni checks the time: 3:08 a.m. She lets the phone drop back inside the purse then zips it closed. She gives in to her fatigue, rubbing her eyes.
Grabbing her lightweight hoodie, she closes the door and locks it. A shrill beep sounds.
Dammit. She meant to hit the manual locks.
Her eyes sweep the concrete floors and find where she was bleeding out. She slowly walks to the spot.
The dull rust of blood is a loose circular stain, with a semi-clean spot at the middle. The blood smells fresh to her new senses. Diseased.
Jenni holds her inhale then lets it shudder out. Raising her eyebrows, she wonders if Adi and the others could smell that she was dying. If the hours-old blood is any indication, they definitely could.
She swallows hard, allowing her eyes to drift from where she lay dying, to the area where the steel door used to be, now boarded up with a sheet of plywood.
Remnants of the violence that took place here is proof that it happened.
It happened to her. Jenni doesn't realize she's crying until the tears obscure her vision.
I need to get out of here.
She turns her head, glancing at the yellow crime scene tape, and wonders where the bodies of those werewolves went. Surely that would be a little much for the cops to discover?
What did Adi call them when she and Slash were talking?
Lanarre.
Adi talked about retributi
on for their deaths. Does that mean they'll be looking for Jenni, too? If they were, would they know that Jenni was just caught in the crossfire of some weird paranormal snafu?
Jenni cups her elbows, nervously eyeing every surface. The cops must know she's missing—she heard them discussing her.
That Adi is missing as well.
Maybe blame has already been assigned. And maybe offering her place to Devin is putting the young woman and her daughter in more danger than they were already in with Bray sniffing around.
Jenni presses her palms to the sides of her skull. She's too tired to mentally power through this. She needs a shower, fresh clothes, food—yet again—and a bed.
Jenni trudges up the slight incline leading to the outside parking lot and stoops underneath the tape. She lets the slick plastic drop, and it makes a soft sound as it flutters behind her.
“Stop where you are, miss.”
Jenni's face whips toward the voice. Scents assail her. The last one is a scent of danger. Gun oil. The thing she's becoming lifts within her body like an imposter of someone else inside her body.
Police.
Jenni takes in the familiar uniform. It's not rocket science that Jenni understands she has to get the hell out of here.
Right now.
She wraps the arms of the hoodie around her waist.
“Are you Jennifer French?”
Jenni doesn't answer.
She runs.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Adi
Slash's hand hasn't stopped moving up and down her naked hip to where Adi's waist narrows in almost an hour.
Back and forth, the light touch of his fingers strokes her side. Hands she has watched kill, maim, and crush are so tender on her flesh. If Adi were to close her eyes, his touch would be like a breeze instead of the flesh and blood of her mate.
Her mate.
Adi still can't fully believe that at her young age, she is mated. For life. A little thrill shivers through her.
With Slash.
He presses his nose against her neck, scenting deeply of her. “What are you thinking?” He licks the side of her neck, ending with a kiss.
So much shit... That's what she's thinking. Adi looks away, flustered. “Ah, I'm thinking I'm lucky. Lucky to be with you.”
Slash rubs the stubble of his jaw against her neck, tickling her, and Adi giggles, lightly pressing her hands to the sides of his face.
“I am the fortunate one.” His dark eyes hold her still, searching her face. “I hurt you.” Slash covers her chest where her heart lays beneath the skin.
Adi drops her hands from his face. “Yeah.”
Curling a finger under her chin, he props her face up, perfectly aligning her vision with his.
Soft light from a tiny lamp on the nightstand illuminates his imperfect profile. The scar appears fresh—and raw—in this lighting. But Adi knows that what scarred him happened a long time ago, when their enemies used weapons of silver to permanently maim or worse.
“I would do it again.”
Now it's Adi's turn to try and uncover the meaning of his words.
“Any measure, no matter how harsh, is not harsh enough if there is threat to my mate.”
She nods slowly. “But since your delivery sucked so bad, maybe you can you just explain stuff better in the future?”
Slash bursts out laughing, hauling her underneath him. He pins her with his much larger and more powerful body. “I adore you.”
Adi's still kind of pissed. She can admit it. “I thought, after we shared something so personal, that you were dumping me or something. It sorta felt like you were scooping my guts out... with a soup spoon.”
A ripple of pain flows over his hard features, making the scar tissue flatten as he manages his emotions.
Adi wonders if a lifetime of keeping his feelings contained has taken its toll.
“I believed that if I were to take time to explain my thought process, you wouldn't leave and seek safety.”
Adi begins to look away, and he captures her face again, shifting his weight so he doesn't crush her.
“And I didn't heal the paralysis from that fucking Were from the Western until an hour after you'd already left the Singer stronghold.”
Adi can also admit she wouldn't have left Slash there without his legs working. She knew it. He knew it.
“Would you have left me, heart of my heart.” Slash smooths his palms along the side of her head and forces her face still, gazing deeply into her eyes.
She shakes her head inside his hold. “No fucking way. I would've fought those dickheads off with my bare hands.” Adi clenches her hands into fists, just thinking about it.
Slash slowly nods. “Then a harshness was required that I would never willingly do otherwise. Do you see that?”
Tears slip out of her eyes, and Slash thumbs them away.
“Why didn't you get with a bitch that was a wallflower type?” Even Adi hears her stubbornness.
Slash chuckles softly then breathes a gentle kiss against her mouth. Adi closes her eyes to feel it better, depriving her sense of sight to hold on to the sensation.
“Because the female that I love is right here.”
Adi opens her eyes. “Took you long enough.”
His smile widens, and the knot of scar tissue at his upper lip stretches with the movement. “I could not mate a whelp. As it is, you are a baby.”
She reaches up, stroking his strong jaw, and his eyes close with a rapturous expression.
I do that. I make Slash feel again.
“I don't feel like a baby,” she says in a voice gone low with need.
Slash's ebony eyes snap open, so intense and dark that she drowns inside their depths. “No, you don't.”
His tone of voice has her breath catching.
“You can't want to again?”
Slash cocks his head. “Are you denying me, mate?” There's a hint of humor in his words.
Adi shakes his head. “I feel a lot better—tons. But how long will it last? Heat? How many times will we have to mate to make me feel okay?”
“As many times as it takes.”
Slash grins.
So does Adi.
*
“It's criminal I can still walk.” Adi gives Slash a significant glance.
He swats her butt.
Adi gives him a look that stops him in his tracks.
“Female, you will be the end of me.”
She shakes her head. “I think for an old guy, you do okay.” She pops her hip to the side and cups her breasts like a hand bra.
His eyes follow her hands, landing on her naked flesh.
Slash leaps at her, and she yelps, jumping away, hand to chest. “Slash!” she hisses in a whisper.
He wraps his arms around her, and with them both standing, her head only reaches between his pecs.
“I hate being short,” she grumbles at his muscular chest.
Slash tips her chin up. “You are female.”
“I'm small even for a female.”
He slowly turns her until the back of her is against his front. Folding his forearm around her chest, he holds her tightly. “You fit against me as though made for my body, Adrianna.”
“Why does everything you say sound so sexy?”
She can hear the smile in his words. “I'm not making an effort.”
Adi lifts his heavy arm from her chest and turns to look at him, cocking an eyebrow. “Not trying. Horsepucky, Slash, you're a breathing, walking sex machine.”
“Hmmm, maybe for you, Adrianna.”
She pushes him in the chest, and his smile widens. “Seriously?”
He nods.
“Huh, you're entirely too pleased with yourself, ya big lug.”
His lips curl. “Yes, yes, I am. And what do I have not to be pleased about? Tell me that, my mate. I have you. We are safe, sated, fed, and rested. We can leave this place and make our way south.”
Adi feels a churn begin in her gut. “Are you thinki
ng we should go back to the Northwestern Pack? I don't know if I can.” Her eyes flick to his, unable to contain her anxiety. “And you're a Red.”
Slash places his palms on the wall, caging her. “No one is more aware of my rogue status. I kept it well hidden. But now I am here. You are my mate. Those who ruled the Northwestern are no more, correct?” His scarred eyebrow rises, and Adi recognizes in that moment, Slash no longer hides his face from her.
“Yes,” Adi replies in a whisper, thinking of her brother and Manny. Those two, she grieves for. Not Lawrence, who never did anything but place females to be battled over. She shivers, remembering Tony, who turned out to be part demonic. No surprise there. He was a douche canoe waiting for a lake.
“What?” Slash asks, scrutinizing her face.
Her bark of laughter is short. And pained. “I'm glad Tony's gone, is all.”
He immediately grins. “Yes, and in spectacular fashion.”
“Deserved it, the prick.”
Slash says nothing. No need.
Everybody thought Tony Laurent was King Dick.
Adi bites her lip then releases it. “I don't know who's at the Northwestern anymore. I miss Susan.”
Slash is silent, letting her talk.
“But I'd love to see the rest of the pack again. I'm not a Singer. I got caught up in their mess, and now I just want to belong again to a pack, be with other Were.”
“They might not accept me,” Slash says in his neutral way.
“Screw them. We're mated. You can't undo that.”
Slash shakes his head. “No, we cannot.” He runs a finger down her cheek, and Adi leans into the caress with a shiver of pleasure. “And I don't want to. But as you know, there can only be one Red per pack. If another Red were there—too many Reds in one place isn't good. And the Lanarre will scent us if we stay in this region.”
Adi slides her arms around his bare, hard waist. “Why did you kill the Lanarre, Slash? Why?”
“Because they wanted to breed my mate.”
She leans back, studying his expression. “They'll hunt you. Us.”
Slash nods. “They might. However, they have plenty to do. With the possibility of Tessa and Tahlia at the Hoh.” Slash's inhale is deep, broadening his chest even more.
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