“Okay,” she agreed.
“I wish you hadn’t dragged that guy into it.”
“Gaylord?”
“Yeah, it puts him at risk. Dante seems to have a sixth sense for who’s on to him and he’s eliminated the threat of their knowledge about him by turning them.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing we have a private security firm right here in town.” When he stared at her as though he didn’t like where this was going, she reminded him, “Unless I’m mistaken, at the moment only you and Dean are engaged with clients. Perhaps you could put one of your brothers on Gaylord, though I’m sure he’ll have to go back to Jackson Hole to conduct the research I’m asking him to do.”
“I can ask Troy,” he compromised. “But I’m not sure he’s going to like it.”
“Why wouldn’t he like having more business?”
“Because we’ve been doing a lot of pro-bono work recently. Technically, you haven’t even hired me, and Dean is handling Adelaide for free.”
“Tell him to bill the precinct,” she offered. “He can send the invoice to my attention and I’ll have Sheila pay it discretely.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the sheriff will love that.”
“If this approach helps catch and apprehend Dante effectively then I can justify it,” she assured him.
“You’re going to justify an expense on an investigation that Rick told you to drop completely?” he questioned.
“Leave that to me.”
As she turned from the bar, Conor pulled his cell phone from his jeans and said, “Let me talk to Troy about protecting the professor.”
He stayed at the bar counter to do just that and Rachel returned to the high table where Gaylord was reading over his notes.
“Thanks for keeping mum about what I told you earlier,” she said to him softly.
“Oh, I understand the importance of discretion,” he agreed as he glanced at Conor. “Magnificent.”
“He certainly is.”
***
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Sir, calm down!”
“No, I won’t calm down! This store was that woman’s life!” Dean insisted.
The insurance adjustor, a middle-aged man who was almost as wide as he was tall, wobbled over the charred rubble that was once Devil’s Advocate, clipboard in hand, as Adelaide cried quietly near the blackened counter where the cash register had melted into a heap of metal.
“Arson isn’t covered,” the adjustor maintained. “This is standard. Arson is very covered in a business insurance policy. It’s an industry rule. If a rule like that wasn’t in place, then every time a business was nearing financial collapse, the owner would burn it down in order to collect.”
“But she didn’t burn it down! She was victimized, her whole life was ripped away from her!”
“I understand that, Sir, and I sympathize,” he said, trying not to cower under the intensity of Dean’s glaring anger. “But rules are rules.”
“You did this,” Dean accused, pointing his finger in the pudgy guy’s smug face. “It was your signature on the recently updated policy. You allowed her violent ex-husband to list himself as the new and sole beneficiary without her permission. She can sue you, you know, personally.”
“I’m afraid she’ll find that won’t be possible.”
“Oh, you’re so smart, aren’t you!” he raged as the adjustor again attempted to wade through the rubble to get away from the irate man.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do,” the adjustor maintained. “Had the fire been caused by faulty electrical wiring or even been an accident like a lit cigarette in a trash can, she would be able to collect. But this is a clear-cut case of criminal arson, a case which I happen to know is still being investigating by your police department. My insurance company doesn’t know that Adelaide didn’t start the fire.”
“Her ex started the fire!” Dean insisted.
“Fine!” he snapped, getting angry himself. “The beneficiary started the fire. There’s your reason for why we won’t pay! And I’ll tell you something, mister, you’re lucky I don’t report all of this as an attempt at insurance fraud!”
“Get out!” Dean yelled. “Just get the hell out!”
The insurance adjustor scrambled for the door as Dean towered over him chasing him out.
“What has happened to my life?” Adelaide said defeated when Dean returned to her.
“I’m so sorry.”
She let out a little laugh and then exploded in a fit of laughter that could only be described as hysterics. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she cackled wildly at the surrealism of her life, or so that was Dean’s initial impression.
“Harry is so stupid,” she managed to squeeze out through her billowing laughter that refused to die down. “He thought he’d collect millions. He won’t get a dime.”
Maybe that was the silver lining, but Dean still felt horribly for Adelaide.
The deputy he’d spoken with over the phone up in Montana had gotten back to him that Harry Marple wasn’t at his house. He also hadn’t been seen around town, which told Dean that the man could very well be in the Fist. But where? Dean wasn’t a violent man, but he’d like to punch the guy square in the nose or worse.
He wrapped his arms around Adelaide, pulling the older woman into a comforting hug, and reminded her, “It was criminal arson. Harry is going to go away for a long time as soon as the sheriff catches him.”
“I know,” she allowed, finally sighing out, all humor having drained from her exhausted body. “I just hope they catch him before anything else happens.”
Dean feared to imagine what else Harry could possibly do to this woman. All she had left was her own life. But if Harry had had it in him to kill his own son, what was to say that he wouldn’t come after her next?
***
“What a lovely little home!” the professor exclaimed as he marveled the stone house tucked into the foothills of a mountain where Sasha and her daughter-in-law, Nikita, lived on the outskirts of Yellowstone. “It’s as charming as a castle!”
Conor leaned in to Rachel as they trailed behind the professor and whispered, “When I offered that you could speak to Sasha, I didn’t mean to imply that Gaylord should come as well.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
He widened his eyes as though the sky was the limit so she gave him a playful thwack on the chest and told him to relax.
“Exquisite!” Gaylord exclaimed, bringing his face enthusiastically close to the antique knocker on the door and studying the metal-work of the wolf as well as the ring in its mouth. “May I?”
“Better let me handle that,” Conor said, urging the elderly man away from the door. “My family doesn’t love unannounced visitors.”
Rachel ushered the professor down away from the door so that they would be standing at an unintimidating distance from the front door of the little stone house as Conor pounded loudly.
“Mom? You guys home?” he called out.
Rachel was extremely discrete as she whispered to the professor, “The women who live here are also werewolves.”
It was true that technically Rachel didn’t know that for a fact. She hadn’t tested their DNA. But if Conor and his brothers were, and if Sasha had borne a half-breed, then logic prevailed that the entire Quinn lineage was werewolf.
The heavy door eased open and an angelic-looking woman with long silver hair filled the doorway. She had a regal presence and seemed ten times larger than her natural stature, wearing a lavender dress that looked earthy and simple and almost as if it was from another era in time.
“Conor?” she said, surprised to see her son here. She angled around him to see Rachel and the professor then asked, “Who have you brought with you?”
“Mother, this is Rachel Clancy and Professor Gaylord…” he trailed off, the professor’s name escaping him so Rachel stepped up to help him out.
“Professor Gaylor Geer III from Jackso
n Hole. It’s nice to meet you,” she said and held out her hand.
“Nikita,” the older woman said as she stared at Rachel’s hand, unfamiliar with the custom.
As Rachel withdrew her hand, Nikita asked him, “What are you all doing here?”
“We’d like to speak with Grandmother Sasha.”
Nikita looked immediately wary as she stared at the unwelcomed guests. “I don’t know…”
“Please,” he pleaded. “There have been serious developments in town and—”
“I’ve attended every meeting,” she reminded him, discretely referring to every werewolf pack meeting that had taken place at Damned Repair. “Troy would’ve mentioned—”
“Things are moving too fast for Troy to call a meeting every night,” he insisted. “Please.”
“I can’t say that Sasha will be willing to speak with two complete strangers,” she warned.
“We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it.”
Though she remained gravely apprehensive, Nikita widened the door and stepped aside, allowing them to enter.
The first thing Rachel noticed was how remarkable cool the stone house was. Temperatures had climbed to well over ninety degrees outside but the house felt like it was barely in the sixties. As they came into a living room space that was filled with crystals and candles, she felt like she was stepping back in time.
As they rounded into the room, Gaylord marveling the New Age decorum with big sparkling eyes, she realized there was an elderly woman sitting in a rocking chair in front of a crackling fireplace.
She knew instantly it was Sasha Quinn. She’s only seen the elderly woman a few times, the most recent occasion having been Sasha’s birthday parade in the heart of town. Wisdom seemed to pour out of the deep, dark pools of her ancient eyes, but unlike at the birthday celebration, today Sasha looked stern, maybe even severe at their unexpected presence.
“Mother,” Nikita said, coming to kneel at the elderly woman’s feet, “Conor has brought two guests who would like to speak with you. This is Rachel and Gaylord.”
Gaylord seemed immediately enchanted by the elderly woman. He didn’t hesitate to approach and kneel at her feet beside Nikita as he said, “It’s my great pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” He took her knotty hand in both of his and kissed it then smiled up at her. “Stunning,” he breathed as Nikita urged him away from Sasha, who looked suddenly taken aback.
She helped him into the rocking chair on the other side of the crackling fire, but even though he sat, his posture remained poised as though every fiber of his being was eager to reach out and touch the elderly woman again.
Gaylord couldn’t stop smiling. “I heard you’re a widow and I wanted to offer my deepest condolences for your loss.”
Sasha furrowed her brow at him, but the professor was undeterred.
“Have you ever dated a younger man?”
Oh, Lord! Rachel quickly interjected, “Sasha, the professor here has dedicated his career to studying werewolves and we’d like to ask you some questions.”
“We’re still getting acquainted,” Gaylord objected hotly. “You have a beautiful home,” he complimented, smiling at Sasha as though she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “I’ve never been married. I’ve always thought it best not to settle. I’ve been waiting for the right woman and though it’s been trying at times, I understand now that it was well worth the wait.”
Nikita looked alarmed, but to everyone’s astonishment, Sasha seemed flattered.
Conor stared with wide, surprised eyes as Sasha smiled at Gaylord, and if Rachel wasn’t mistaken she thought the elderly woman was blushing.
“Where do you hail from?” Sasha asked him, and Rachel and Conor exchanged a quizzical glance at each other.
As Gaylord proceeded to mention how he’d been employed as a professor in Jackson Hole for quite some time, but was originally from Cape Cod, Conor leaned in to Rachel’s ear and whispered, “I’ve never seen her like this.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Maybe the professor will be able to get her to open up in ways my brothers and I have never managed.”
“As a young man, I often sailed the hardy waters of the Atlantic,” he boasted. “I travel back there as often as I can to sail and drink in the crisp, salty sea air. Have you ever been sailing?”
“Maybe we should give them some privacy?” Rachel quietly suggested to Conor.
“If we do,” he countered, “we might run the risk of them never getting to the issue at hand.”
Sasha became more and more youthful as they chatted. She blushed and smiled, and when Gaylord dragged his rocking chair close to hers so that he could hold her hand as they talked, Sasha didn’t recoil or object. She looked like a prime schoolgirl, tickled to have the attention of a decent boy.
Rachel meandered slowly and positioned herself behind Sasha at a distance so that she could get the professor’s attention. When he glanced at her, she twirled her finger, silently asking him to get to the questions they’d discussed on the ride over.
Gaylord frowned at her, annoyed that she would hasten what had clearly become something of a courtship, but he eventually steered the conversation to the topic at hand.
“It was early in life that I fell in love with the folklore surrounding werewolves,” he went on. “I soon understood, more so through a deep instinctual knowing in my heart than anything else, that they had to be real. You see, in my studies I learned that all folklore has roots in factual events and so I dedicated my life to exploring the possibility of werewolves and their packs living among us. Quite an exceptional species, but I’ve never met one as enchanting as you, Miss Sasha.”
Conor and Nikita fully expected Sasha to fly into a powerful rage to deny what she truly was to this stranger, but she did no such thing.
“Is that what brought you to Wyoming?”
“Yes, indeed,” he smiled. “There’s a rich culture here and longstanding heritage, though I’ve also come to understand that packs are shy and well-hidden.” Angling deeper into the question at hand, he became a tad serious as he asked, “An area I’m seeking to research deeper is what becomes of the offspring of a werewolf who has mated with a mortal.”
Sasha sighed and Rachel could tell that she carried a great deal of shame for having birthed Dante Alighieri. She clammed up a bit but Gaylord continued to coax her.
“I’m inclined to believe that the mortal you happened upon all those years ago might not have been a mortal.”
It was news to Rachel so she glanced at Conor. They hadn’t discussed this in the truck and he seemed just as thrown.
“Perhaps,” Gaylord offered, “we could discuss this highly private matter over oysters and Tempranillo?”
Again, Sasha blushed and Rachel knew they were in for quite a night.
Chapter Eleven
CONOR
It had been perhaps the most promising and productive meeting he’d ever had with his grandmother and Conor wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Sasha hadn’t opened up to Troy—her king—even when she had been faced with threats. She’d put the entire pack at risk by refusing to tell Troy and all of his brothers what had really happened between herself and a mortal man centuries ago. She’d offered absolutely no insight that would’ve helped them either catch, battle, or even understand Dante Alighieri, and yet as soon as she’d met the professor she’d opened up like a tulip on a sunny morning. Conor told himself that whatever worked, worked, and that he ought to leave it at that, but it still didn’t sit right with him and by the time Nikita escorted Rachel and Gaylord out of the little stone house, Conor following behind them, he was bursting to say something.
Troy and Kaleb pulled up in their pickup trucks just as Nikita closed the door behind her, joining them in the hot afternoon sun.
“I can’t believe that woman,” Conor hissed at his mother as his brothers neared them. “How many times has Troy begged her for information?”
“Conor,”
his mother warned.
But he was too irate. “After five minutes with a complete stranger she’s willing to tell him everything?”
Rachel reminded him, “It’s what we wanted.”
“It isn’t right,” he complained.
Troy and Kaleb looked thrown out of the loop so Conor hotly told them, “Grandmother Sasha is going to have a date with the professor and tell him everything she wouldn’t tell us.”
“The professor?” Troy questioned.
“Some guy the sheriff brought in, some werewolf expert who I guess our grandmother has the hots for.”
“What?” Kaleb asked, horrified that their grandmother could still experience a hormonal emotion. “The hots?”
Rachel explained, “I invited Professor Gaylord Geer here to find out all we could about Dante—”
“She what?” Troy barked as he cut his furious eyes at Conor.
“She knows,” he admitted. It was the least of his worries. As far as he was concerned all of his brothers should be just as hurt as he was that Sasha was willing to tell a stranger her whole life story when all of the Quinns, including Nikita, had been in the dark about it from the start. “So does Gaylord.”
“Why is it that none of my brothers can control themselves when faced with beautiful women?” he complained. “This is ridiculous!”
Kaleb was just as guilty, but the cold hard fact of the matter was that so was Troy. He couldn’t very well judge Conor for letting it slip to Rachel that they were all werewolves. If anything, he felt like he was the most innocent since he hadn’t even told Rachel. She’d figured it out all on her own.
Gaylord was fantastically oblivious to the quarrel unfolding in front of his very eyes. All he could see were more enchanting werewolves. He smiled up at Troy, studying him closely.
Before Troy could blow his top again, Conor stated, “Gaylord here has a date scheduled with Sasha. Let’s see what he can get out of her.”
“That’s supposed to make me happy?” he challenged.
But Conor challenged him right back. “You think I’m happy? You think I like that my own grandmother has put this guy ahead of all five of us?”
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