Hans was decapitating his second gingerbread man when Derek joined him. “Hey, baby brother,” Hans said, breaking off a sugar-coated arm. “Are you trying to get the whole company high on sugar or what?”
Their eldest brother, Jack, came over with a muffin and raised a brow at Derek. “Are we celebrating something, Derek?”
Derek simply shrugged. “I found this wonderful little bakery. They have the most amazing gingerbread house I've ever seen, but they won't sell me the house. So...”
“So you bought everything else they had,” Hans concluded.
“Sure looks like it,” Jack said, glancing at the numerous boxes on the table. “The Gingerbread House,” Jack read the name of the bakery off the box and mused, “I wonder if they have other branches or a franchise…?”
Derek's face lit up. “You want me to talk to the owners? I know them.” His smile grew dreamy. “She's really capable, smart, beautiful and so amazing!” he gushed. “I..”
His two elder brothers stopped chewing at once and stared at him with identical open-mouthed expressions.
“What?” Derek snapped. “What are you looking at me like that for?”
Hans smirked. “You're not telling us everything, are you, baby brother?”
“What's her name?” Jack pressed him.
“What name? Whose name?” Derek threw up his hands.
“Your mate!” Jack and Hans said together.
Derek folded his arms. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he mumbled.
“You can fool everyone, but you can't fool us,” Jack laughed. “The owner of this bakery—she's your mate! You've found her!”
Derek opened his mouth, then decided in a hurry that it was safer to keep his mouth shut. His wily brothers would pounce on anything he said and they would pry and probe until he told them everything.
Hans waved the remaining gingerbread leg at him and grinned. “Come on, tell us her name. You know that we can drive down to The Gingerbread House this very instant and talk to her, right? Jack and I will introduce ourselves and...”
“No, no, no!” Derek cried, mortified. “Don't freak her out!”
Jack and Hans chuckled and winked. “So what's her name?”
Derek blew out a long breath. “Gretel.”
“As in Hansel and Gretel?” Jack said, his eyes rounding.
Derek shrugged and frowned. “I don't know. She never mentioned a brother. I met her mother though.”
Hans turned to give his big brother a look. “That's just a fairy tale. She can't be that Gretel, the one in the story. Right?”
Jack shook his head. “I don't know. Before I met Rose, I thought Little Red Riding Hood was a fairy tale too. But now I know the dark truth behind the fairy tale.” He gave a grim smile. “Rose, my mate, is actually the daughter of Little Red Riding Hood.”
Derek stared at his two brothers. “Are you saying that Gretel is...”
“We don't know,” Jack said quickly. “In the story, Hansel and Gretel's stepmother and father abandoned them in the woods and they were captured by a wicked witch.”
Derek shook his head. “No. Gretel and her mother definitely share a very loving, close bond. Her Mama Mae is a wonderful woman. She can't be the wicked stepmother. No way.”
After a pause, Hans popped the final piece of his gingerbread man into his mouth and said under his breath, “Maybe she's the witch.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Gretel locked up the bakery and steered Mama towards their rusty but trusty little car. It was a good day. They had baked a second batch of cupcakes and cookies after Derek left, and by the late afternoon, they'd sold everything but two cupcakes.
Gretel and Mama had giggled and did a little dance around the bakery as they polished off the cupcakes. They had never sold everything in one day. “Congratulations, Mama!” Gretel cheered and knocked their cupcakes together in a toast. “You're a successful businesswoman! You made the right move, coming to the city!”
“It's all due to you, Gretel. You made friends with that nice man and he helped us,” Mama said. “Derek is a good man. You should get to know him better. I hope...”
Gretel tut-tutted and rolled her eyes. “Not again, Mama. You've been trying to matchmake me with every single guy. Let's see.” She ticked off her fingers. “Back in our old town, you tried to get me to date the grocer's son, the seamstress's nephew, the guy who came to do our plumbing, oh, oh, and even our mailman! Mama, I'm only twenty-two!”
“Yes, I know. But you deserve a good man, Gretel. You deserve to be happy,” Mama said, cupping her face.
“I am happy,” Gretel answered. “I just...”
“I know. You just want to find your brother. But...it's been ten years, and...” Mama trailed off, leaving her fears unspoken. He may be dead.
But Gretel shook her head obstinately. “I will find Hansel.”
Gretel helped Mama into the car and cranked the engine. The car finally sputtered to life on the third try.
“Let's go home. You must be tired,” Gretel said, turning out into the street.
“I'm fine.” Mama smiled sleepily and closed her eyes.
Gretel drove on resolutely, keeping her eyes on the road but glancing occasionally at Mama's thin, hunched body. She reached out to stroke Mama's hair and sucked in a painful breath when she saw strands of hair in her palm.
Gretel swallowed hard and choked back a sob. Mama was so brave, so very brave. She was brave, tough and stubborn as a mule. She refused to stay home and rest. Instead, she insisted on coming to the bakery every single day, and putting in a full day of work like always.
“I'm not going to sit around and wait for death,” Mama had huffed. “I'm alive, aren't I? I can work, can't I?”
Gretel took a steadying breath and forced positive thoughts into her head. She could do that. She had long mastered the art of positive thinking.
Mama would win. It was only the early stages, and cancer was treatable and curable in its early stages. She had driven Mama to all her checkups and treatments, and the doctor said that Mama was making good progress.
Yes, Mama was a survivor. She would live. She would live to see Hansel again, the little boy she had fought so hard to save.
Gretel blinked hard, refusing to let her tears cloud her vision. She swiped angrily at her eyes and concentrated on getting them safely home.
“Let's get some Chinese takeout on our way home,” Mama murmured, opening one eye.
“Huh? Okay,” Gretel said brightly. “Let's do that.”
Mama opened her other eye and yawned. “I feel like having fried rice and spring rolls all of a sudden.”
“Fried rice and spring rolls it is!” Gretel smiled and headed to Chow Palace, a nice family restaurant they had discovered quite by accident. It had quickly become their favorite Chinese restaurant, and they would eat there at least once a week.
Gretel turned into the parking lot of Chow Palace and got out of the car. “I'll be right back,” she told Mama and hurried into the restaurant. She looked around the parking lot and saw some nice cars, including a swanky sleek Ferrari parked in front of the restaurant. She smiled. Mr and Mrs Chow had some really rich customers. But of course they had. Their food was very good, and very reasonably priced.
In a few minutes, she returned to the car with packs of piping hot food. Her mouth watered at the wonderful aroma.
“Let's go home,” she said cheerily to Mama, who was humming softly to herself in the passenger seat as she watched the sunset.
As Gretel drove away from Chow Palace, she thought she saw that swanky Ferrari ease silently out of the parking lot and follow her. But a bus cut in behind her car and she lost sight of the black Ferrari.
CHAPTER SIX
Derek sat behind the wheel of his black Ferrari and watched Gretel run into Chow Palace. He hunched over the wheel so she wouldn't notice him. She returned to her car moments later with two large bags. He saw her lean
over and stroke Mama's hair before starting the engine.
He knew that Mama wasn't Gretel's biological mother, but family wasn't just about blood. It was all about love, and it was clear that those two women loved each other.
Derek fell back and allowed a few vehicles to cut in between his car and Gretel's car. He didn't want to spook her. He wasn't a creepy stalker dude. He was just concerned. Very concerned.
Gretel was a lovely, sweet girl with a big, loving heart. But he could see the deep pain, sadness and regret in her eyes. There were secrets she was keeping, secrets she never told anyone. Not even Mama.
And Derek was determined to find out what those secrets were. He could help her, share her secrets and her burden. He wasn't letting her walk alone in the dark. He would watch over her and walk with her.
Derek followed Gretel and Mama at a discreet distance. He turned into a quiet street after them, and killed his headlights. Slotting his car behind a parked pick-up truck, he watched Gretel help Mama out of the car and usher her into the house. The house was small and a little run-down, but the front yard was neat and well-maintained.
The lights in the living room came on, and Derek leaned back and reached for his paper bag. He pulled out a sandwich and finished it in two bites. He made quick work of the remaining three sandwiches and glugged down a bottle of water.
Derek looked out the window and glanced at his watch. Ten minutes. Only ten minutes had passed, and he had already finished all his food. It was going to be a long wait.
But wait he would.
He wasn't leaving his post. He absolutely would not drive away for a quick bite at the nearby diner. What if Gretel came out of the house and left while he was away?
No. He was staying put.
For once, his bear agreed to the plan. In fact, his bear had planted his big furry butt down and refused to budge.
Derek settled down and answered some emails and messages on his phone. He had just finished going through a financial report when he saw the front door of Gretel's house open a crack.
Derek sat up immediately. The whole house was in darkness. Gretel must have put Mama to bed after dinner.
Derek frowned when he saw Gretel slip out of the house and scurry to her car. She had a long coat tightly wrapped around her, and her hair and makeup looked different. Even by the dim light of the streetlamps, Derek could see the glitter on her face and neck, and the colorful pins in her hair. Her brown hair cascaded in waves down her back, and she was tottering on precariously high heels.
Derek sucked in a breath. Gretel looked stunning, but she no longer looked like the young, fresh-faced baker in The Gingerbread House.
She looked older, tougher, more dangerous.
“What are you up to, Gretel?” Derek growled low.
Looking over her shoulder, Gretel got into her car and started the engine. With a brief flash of brake lights, she pulled away from the curb and sped away from the house.
Derek waited until she'd turned the corner so she wouldn't see him in her rear view mirror. He grew increasingly uneasy as he drove after her. Where was she going at this time of night? And why was she dressed like that?
Gretel finally pulled into a narrow side lane and got out. She looked around again as she adjusted the strap of the large bag on her shoulder. Then she hurried to the back door of a building and slipped inside.
Derek forced himself to stop grinding his teeth. The neon sign at the front of the building told him everything he needed to know.
Wolf Moon was a strip club owned by the Manson wolf pack. It catered to humans and shifters of all kinds, but most of the patrons were wolf shifters.
Questions swirled through Derek's mind as he slotted his car in a parking lot and entered the dim, smoky club. What was Gretel doing this for? Did she need the money? Or did she have a wolf fetish?
Derek sat at a corner table and tried to calm himself and his bear down. He would not go on a rampage and claw out the eyes of every male who looked at Gretel as she gyrated and stripped on that stage.
The wolves around him gave him a wide berth. They could probably scent that his bear was very close to the surface, and see the aggression in his eyes. Derek eased further back into the shadows, making sure that Gretel would not catch sight of him.
Derek paid scarce attention to the action on the stage until Gretel came on. He quietened his beast and made himself watch her peel layer after layer of shimmering fabric off her body.
The men howled and whistled. Some called her by her stage name and made indecent suggestions. Derek forced himself to remain seated. He wanted to lunge forward and haul Gretel's near naked ass off the stage. And why in all the worlds did she have to name herself Sugar Bun? That just drew attention to her bountiful breasts and fleshy, quivering buttocks.
Gretel was a skilful dancer, he had to give her that. Her moves were sensual, graceful and titillating without being lewd. She gave the crowd what they wanted, yet made them hungry for more.
Money was thrown at her, and Gretel smiled and blew kisses as she picked up the dollar bills. There was no emotion in her smile, and her eyes scanned the faces in the crowd as she moved across the stage.
She's looking for someone, Derek realized. Someone stood up and blocked Derek from Gretel's view just as she turned in his direction.
Gretel waved and blew out one last kiss as she sashayed off the stage and disappeared into the dressing room. In a few moments, she appeared again, but she was dressed in a sexy tank top and mini skirt instead of her stage costume.
She glided over to the bar and perched on a high stool. She nodded, smiled and laughed obligingly as she chatted with the patrons. Then she put her hand in her pocket and pulled out what looked like an old photograph.
Derek saw the men shake their heads and make some senseless joke as they glanced at the photograph. Gretel put the faded picture back in her pocket and stood up.
Smiling through her disappointment, Gretel went back to the dressing room. Derek waited, but she never came back out.
“Shit,” he muttered, surging to his feet.
She had left through the back door.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gretel was walking to her car when someone called her.
“Hey you. Yeah, I'm talking to you. You the one with buns of sugar.”
Gretel ignored the rude laughter and kept walking. She wrapped her coat tighter around herself.
A man stepped in front of her and spat out his cigarette. His eyes glowed and his canines were elongated. Wolf, she recognized but she wasn't afraid.
Gretel stopped and heaved a soft sigh. “What do you want? I don't know you.”
“I heard you asking about a boy back there. I...may be able to help you.” His smile broadened but it didn't reach his eyes.
Hope flared in her heart but she kept her face carefully neutral. “Really?” she answered in a bored tone.
“Let me see the photo.”
Gretel hesitated, then drew out the old photograph from her bag. “His name is Hansel,” she said before she could stop herself. Hope was so much stronger than fear. She wanted so desperately to find her brother. Someone had to know where he was.
“Hansel.” The man smirked. “Well, my name is Peter.”
Gretel kept her face straight. She'd heard it before. Peter, as in Peter Pan, or Peter and the Wolf.
“Okay, Peter,” she said coolly. “Do you know a young man by the name of Hansel Woods? He may have changed his name, I don't know. But he has dark brown hair, hazel eyes and...”
“Ah...” Peter chuckled knowingly. “He looks like you. He can't be your son, so you're looking for your brother, aren't you, Sugar Bun?”
Gretel smiled tightly. “Have you seen him?”
Peter inspected his dirty nails. “Maybe.”
She nodded once. She knew what that meant. Money talks.
Quickly, she reached into her bag and rummaged for her wallet. “I only have a
hundred, but...”
“I don't want your money, Sugar Bun.”
Gretel blinked. “You don't?”
“Nah.” Peter patted his pockets and Gretel saw to her dismay that he was sporting a hard on. “It's not money I want. The thing is, I'm a real helpful guy. That's me. Always willing to lend a hand.” He laughed at his own little joke. “But...the hand's kind of tired now. And I would like me some honey tonight. Some real juicy sugar buns, with sticky honey.” He licked his lips and came nearer.
Gretel backed away slowly, her hand quietly reaching for her pepper spray.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Peter tsked, wagging his finger at her bag. “Spraying pepper in a wolf's eyes is just going to make the wolf real mad. And when the beast gets mad, I can't control him, ya know.”
Gretel screamed as he lurched towards her. Her scream echoed down the lane but there was no one about. Just a row of parked cars and overflowing dumpsters.
Peter grabbed her and threw her on the hood of her car. Gretel thrashed and kicked out. She aimed for his crotch but he caught her by the ankle and laughed.
His claws dug into her flesh as he forced her legs apart and stood behind her. Gretel swung out with her bag and connected with his side, but that wasn't enough to stop him.
Peter spat and yanked her skirt forcefully up. Gretel struggled harder and yelled when she heard him undoing his zipper. “Get off me! Let me go! Help! Somebody, help me! Don't touch me, you piece of...”
Peter grabbed a fistful of her hair and slammed her face down against the car. “Shut up, you cunt!”
The impact made Gretel's eyes water and her ears ring, but she refused to shut up. She had to keep screaming. Someone would hear her. If she shut up, she would be dead.
She heard a roar but it didn't sound like Peter. There was a splash of hot fresh blood against her cheek and she scrambled up in horror.
“Derek!” she gasped.
Peter had his hand cupped over his bleeding, broken nose and there was a deep gash down his arm. Derek charged at him, his claws curving towards his throat, but Peter managed to twist away. Derek's claws gouged into the metal of her car, and by the time he pulled them free, Peter had slipped into a dark alley and disappeared.
Gretel and the Bear Page 2