And maybe that’s what had scared her. Maybe just as much as contacting her mother after all these years scared her.
Derrick cared.
She cared.
Things were getting too sticky—too invested. There was too much caring going on.
But that didn’t mean an apology wasn’t in order.
As she headed to the bar to do exactly that, to end this unbearable silence between them, she snuggled deeper into her jacket and pulled her cute knit hat down over her ears.
She’d come to love the slow pace and quiet of Cedar Glen. The town square lit up with tiny twinkling lights in the enormous oak trees. The whitewashed gazebo with wide steps lined with colorful pots of mums that led to the interior, where you could sit on the built-in benches and watch the people in town mill about.
The row of stores and small cafés, the cobblestone roads, the quaint houses painted in bright colors, their roofs with dollops of white snow.
She’d wondered a time or two what it was like in the summer when tourists filled the place and all the flowers were in bloom. Derrick had told her about the ice cream truck one of his pack members ran for the children, about the fairs they held, about the barbecues and potluck dinners that even the vampires attended.
And then she’d stopped herself from wondering. By summer she’d be long gone and resettled in the city. Hopefully her business would rise from the ashes and she’d be able to fill her life back up with work.
Yay.
Somehow, the idea of her life going back to the way it once was seemed impossible. There’d be no more cooking collaborations with Derrick, no more Adams family dinners, no more early morning walks.
Just no more.
Jesus, Martine. You sound like a pathetic love song. You know, the ones you so openly used to scorn?
She swung the door of the bar open, squinting into the dimly lit interior, dismissing her maudlin mood due to her argument with Derrick.
Morris Polanski lifted his hand to wave to her, deep in discussion with who she’d heard was a bear shifter by the name of Jagger Durov.
She peered behind the bar to find one of Derrick’s employees tending it. Odd. He never left the bar before six and it was only four.
“Look who decided to come visit. You up for a game of pool, pretty kitty?” Morris teased. She’d played a game of pool with him earlier in the week, and ever since she’d whipped his butt, he’d been looking for a rematch.
Martine grinned, giving him a playful poke in the arm. “Are you looking for another beating, Morris? It was a pretty grim game. I kinda smoked you.”
He puffed his chest out in mock indignation and cackled. “I was just letting you win because you’re so dang pretty. But I won’t be blinded by all that green-eyed beauty this time. Now the gloves are off, missy.”
She grinned at him again. “Oh, you sweet-talker, Morris. Now I see why your wife is head over heels for you, but I don’t have time today, Prince Charming. However, later next week, you’ll have to tear the pool cue from my hands.”
“Chicken,” he razzed, poking her back.
She gave him a coy, flirty smile. “Bawk-bawk. Now, have you seen Derrick around?”
“Heard him say something about going to the city tonight.”
Panic made her knees weak. “The city?”
Morris nodded his gray head, rolling a shelled peanut between his fingers. “Yep. You know, bright lights, Broadway?”
Her hands began to tremble. Had he found her mother that quickly? Not that it was much of a challenge. He’d just have to search the history on his computer to see she’d looked at her mother’s Facebook page.
Shit. “Are you sure, Morris?” The quiver in her voice was unmistakable.
Morris’s brow wrinkled, his eyes going concerned. “Sure as I’m sittin’ here, young lady. You okay? You’re pale as a ghost. Trust me, I know. I’ve seen one or two.”
“Does he go to the city often?”
Morris made a face. “Hah! Boy hates the city. Only goes if he absolutely has to.”
She gripped the back of one of the bar chairs, her knuckles white. There was no other reason for him to choose now to take a trip into New York other than her mother. Panic raced along her spine.
Morris nudged her. “Hey, you okay, good-lookin’?”
“I’m fine.” But her mind flew. Surely he wouldn’t go see her mother alone. Oh, God.
“Martine, is it?” Jagger asked, rising from his seat to peer down at her, his enormous shoulders blocking her view of Morris. “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m happy to help. Jagger, by the way. Jagger Durov. We haven’t been introduced yet.”
“No!” She lowered her voice and forced herself to stay calm. “No. I’m fine, thank you. Just surprised is all. And nice meeting you. Sorry I can’t stay to chat, but I have to run.” As big and brawny as Jagger was, as useful as he might be because of his enormous muscle, she didn’t want anyone else involved in this.
She waved to Morris and zipped out of the bar, heading back in the direction of Derrick’s house, her heart pounding. How the hell was she going to get to the city to stop him from confronting her mother without her present?
She had no phone. Despite Derrick’s offer to buy her one, she, like the independent idiot she was, had turned him down. She had no car either. If she asked someone to drive her to Queens, she’d involve yet another person in this mess she was in the middle of. There was no train out of this godforsaken town. She didn’t possess super speed like Derrick, so she couldn’t shift and run to her mother’s all the way in Queens.
She’d be lucky if she got there before next week.
So now what?
Shit.
Head down, she ran the rest of the way along the snow-covered dirt road toward Derrick’s, ignoring the fat snowflakes that began to fall—and rammed right into someone’s chest.
“Martine?”
Jerry. Inhaling a breath, she gazed up at him with a distracted smile, the snow swirling around his head. “Hey, Jerry. Can’t talk now, have some stuff to do.”
“Are you okay?”
Hopping from foot-to-foot, she nodded. Time was of the essence. “Great, but I really have to run.”
He gripped her arm and thwarted her efforts to flee. “Something’s wrong. Tell me.”
“Nothing’s wrong.” She completely avoided his eyes by shielding hers from the snow with her hand.
But Jerry wasn’t letting it go, his expression hard—something that struck her as odd. His grip on her arm was even harder. “I can smell something’s wrong, Martine. Tell me what it is.”
Martine pulled her arm out of his hold. “You’re hurting me, Jerry.”
He softened then, his face melting back into his easygoing smile. “Sorry, but you’re scaring me. Why so intense?”
What could it hurt to tell him why she was worried? He knew about Escobar because of Derrick and the lockdown to keep her safe anyway.
He didn’t have to know she planned to go after Derrick. “I’m worried about Derrick. He’s gone off to find my mother, thinking she can somehow help with my Escobar troubles. But she can’t. No one can. He’s too powerful.” Fear slithered along her spine, and anxiety settled in the pit of her stomach.
Jerry held out his arm, escorting her to Derrick’s front steps. “Your mother?”
She sighed, trying to formulate a plan. “Yeah. My mother. He seems to think Escobar might have something to do with the impossible part of his curse. Like maybe he’ll be the one to stop us from mating on the full moon. If that’s the case, his assumption is that my mom can help because she’s a familiar. But my mother isn’t going to be interested in helping me, and even if she were, my father would never allow it.” At the top of the steps, she pushed the door open and waved Jerry in first, following behind him.
“Does your mother know magic?” Jerry asked over his shoulder.
She shrugged, hoping against hope he’d let this go so she could figure something out in peace. He
was edgy today—edgy and something else she couldn’t put her finger on.
“I don’t know what she knows. She shielded me from most of it with the exception of the occasional floating object. I do know I don’t want her involved in this, at least not without me there to help Derrick explain.”
Jerry brightened. “So you’re planning to go see her? See if you can find Derrick? Is that what all the rush is about?”
Martine popped her lips. “I have no plans.” Yet. Which wasn’t exactly a lie.
“Yes you do. I can see it written all over your face. But you can’t figure out a way to get there.”
Guilty. “Forget it, Jerry. It’ll all be fine.”
“You want me to take you?”
She squeezed his arm with a smile of gratitude. “Um, no. I can’t let you get involved, too, Jerry. First, Derrick would kill me if anything happened to you, and I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you. Second, you know not thing one about magic and neither do I. So one lame-o going in unarmed is stupid, I’ll admit. Two of us? No can do.”
“Why don’t we text him and see if he’s even located your mother? Maybe all this worry’s for nothing and he just made a trip in for something else?”
Martine cocked her head. “You know him better than I do. Why else would he go into the city? Morris said he hates it.”
Jerry nodded solemnly, his handsome face and clear skin as perfect as always even in broad daylight. “With a passion. So let’s just text and ask him.”
“Okay, but do me a favor and don’t tell him I’m asking. I don’t want you to lie for me, just avoid why you’re asking.” Because she had to know.
He nodded. “Anything if it’ll bring you peace of mind,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket and moving his fingers over the screen.
As her mind raced, she began to pace, until Jerry’s phone pinged the sound of an incoming text. Her eyes looked hopefully to him.
He held up the phone for her to read Derrick’s message. Yes. On my way to the city to see her mother. Please don’t tell Martine. Keep her on lockdown and watch her carefully until I get back.
Fuck. And lockdown? Hello! She was a grown woman. She could do as she pleased. But that didn’t worry her nearly as much as what could happen if her father got his hands on Derrick. “My father will kill him if he catches him, Jerry.”
“Derrick’s a werewolf. Not so easily killed.”
“But my father is a drunk familiar. Who knows what he could do to him? Derrick’s strong, sure, but how will he combat magic?” How would she, for that matter? It didn’t make any difference. All that mattered was keeping her mother and Derrick safe.
“Not if we go help him,” Jerry enticed, holding up the keys to his truck.
“How are we going to do that? He asked you to keep me on lockdown. You’d be going against his wishes. Maybe we should go to Max and ask his advice?”
Jerry shrugged his shoulders, pushing a hand over his square jaw. “I guess we could. But you know Max. Always playing it safe.”
Screw safe. Screw sitting here and waiting to find out if Derrick was going to come out of this unscathed. Her father scared the living shit out of her with his loose-cannon ways, but Derrick or her mother getting hurt scared her more. “Okay, let’s just go. But how are we going to get out of here? Don’t we have to go through town? What if someone sees us?”
“I have an idea,” Jerry said with a mischievous smile.
As Jerry laid out the plan, she grabbed a pair of gloves and her cat carrier.
* * *
“Jerry?” Derrick yelped when he rounded the corner leading to Hector’s barn. “Hector! Get out here!”
He fell to his knees to find Jerry crumpled in a heap near the base of a pine tree, his jacket torn, his face bloody and bruised where he’d whacked the side of the tree with it. He slid his arm under Jerry’s head, cradling it in his lap. “Jerry! Buddy, wake up!”
Hector hovered behind Derrick, dropping to his knees, too. “What happened?”
Dread filled his gut like sand filling an hourglass. “I don’t know. I found him like this. Let’s get him out of the cold.” He scooped Jerry up, carrying him into the barn while Hector grabbed some blankets.
Cupping Jerry’s jaw, Derrick brushed his mussed hair from his cheek as he began to stir. “Jerry, buddy, what the hell happened?”
Jerry groaned, his swollen eye, merely a slit in his head, landing on Derrick. “Somebody hit me. From behind, I think…”
“Hit you? Nobody hits anyone around here unless it’s at Derrick’s bar. What the hell, man?” Hector asked, tucking a blanket under Jerry’s legs, his face worried.
Jerry winced, running a finger over the gash in his lip. “I don’t know. I was going to Derrick’s to see if Martine wanted to have lunch like he asked me to. Nat was already gone when I got to your house, and so was Martine. Then wham—it’s the last thing I remember.”
Derrick’s internal alarm bells sounded. Martine. She was the thread here. He was damn sure of it. “Okay, Hector, you stay here with Jerry. Jerry, you rest until you heal, and if you can think of anything else, text me.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He ran from the barn, his pulse like thunder in his ears. They hadn’t talked in two days, and now he was regretting every single second he’d spent letting her have her space and adjust to the idea they needed her mother’s help.
He’d left Martine with regret this morning, standing in the doorway of her room and watching her sleep, but reluctant to wake her. So he’d asked Nat to stay with her while he was off helping Max, and she’d texted back that she’d be right over.
He’d left knowing Nat was hot on his heels to stand watch, should anything come up.
As he raced down the path and across the yard that connected he and Hector’s two properties, he smelled something wrong.
Something really wrong. Strange smells, foreign smells, scents that turned his stomach. He took the fronts steps three at a time, pushing the door open, his gaze scanning the interior of the house. “Martine?”
Room to room he went, calling her name, his panic increasing with each fruitless glance into another empty space. He yanked out his phone and texted Nat. Where the hell are you? Fighting the impulse to punch a wall, his mind raced.
Whoa, brother. I’m at Mom’s. Right where I said I’d be all day if you needed me. What’s going on?
Fuck. He knew it. Goddamn it, he knew it. You were supposed to be staying with Martine.
“No,” Nat said, her breathing heavy as she pushed her way into his house. “You texted me earlier and said you didn’t need me because Jerry was coming over.” She held up her phone, her cheeks flushed from the run over.
Derrick held up his phone, too, his heart thumping out a harsh rhythm. “No. I asked you to come stay with her until Jerry got here to take her to lunch!” he all but yelled.
Nat’s eyes widened, her fingers trembling as she called up the message. “Oh Jesus, D. Oh Jesus. I’m sorry, but you can see what your text says.”
He clenched a fist tight, fighting for control. “I see it. I don’t get it, but I see it. Because read the text I sent you.”
Nat’s mouth fell open as she read his phone message. “What the hell?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just know someone clocked Jerry in the head, I found him unconscious, and Martine’s disappeared. We have to find her, Nat.”
Nat was all limbs and motion as she began to make her way to the door, her fingers flying over her phone. “We’ll gather the pack to search every corner of Cedar Glen. I’ll text Max and JC. Don’t panic yet. Maybe she’s just at the bar?”
“If she’d damn well taken the phone I’d offered her, we could text her and see, couldn’t we?” he replied, terse and hot with anger.
Nat threw a scarf and gloves at him from the basket Martine had set on the small table by the front door so he wouldn’t keep losing them. “Well, she didn’t, okay? Now get your shit togeth
er and let’s go!”
They had to find her. Of course they’d find her. She was probably at the bar, razzing Morris about his crappy pool playing. She had to be.
He needed to find her.
Jesus. He needed to find her.
Chapter Fourteen
Now she understood why people always wondered how they could be so stupid.
Today, she could add herself to the list of people who asked themselves that question. In fact, she’d be at the top of the stupid-people list.
Because somehow, in her stupidity, she’d landed herself right back where she’d started.
As Escobar’s prisoner.
Lying on her back, she stared up at the ceiling of her chicken-wire prison, reveling in her stupidity, letting it wash over her as though it were pouring from that lovely dual showerhead Derrick had in his amazing shower.
Derrick. Her heart tugged with a sharp jolt. Unless a miracle occurred, she’d never see him again. Not after what Escobar said he planned to do with her.
She shuddered, fear rising in her throat, her stomach a knot of panic. The thought of never seeing Derrick again after they’d had that argument over her mother broke her.
This wasn’t the way she’d wanted her and Derrick’s time together to end.
Now that she was back here at Escobar’s, she was starting to realize she didn’t want it to end at all.
But end it would if she didn’t figure out how to get the hell out of here.
Maybe that realization was borne of desperation, maybe it was fear, but the more she thought about never seeing Derrick and Cedar Glen again, the more she wanted to claw Escobar’s eyes out for trying to take both away.
Escobar’s thick finger poked into one of the holes in the chicken wire surrounding her catio—the structure he’d built to keep her contained but comfortable while he used her for his nefarious deeds.
He made a comically sad face, his eyes playful. “I’ve missed you, Martine. Haven’t you missed me?” he whispered, the thick swoop of dark hair on his head never moving an inch as he leaned down and peered at her.
What's New, Pussycat? (Wolf Mates Book 2) Page 15