by C. P. Rider
"You think it's someone local," he said.
"Yes."
"Isn't it more likely to be Roso? It didn't happen until he showed up in town."
"Sure, it could be Julio. It could also be the Blacke shifters who hate me, the alphas who want to use me, Roso's or Malcolm's wolves seeking revenge—it could even be another poacher like the one Amir killed last week."
"You knew about that?"
"Yes. Despite you trying to keep it from me. I'm a telepath and a spiker Lucas. Why do you keep forgetting that?"
He leaned a hip against the worktable, face carefully blank. "I'm only trying to protect you."
"Don't treat me as if I'm weak. I am ten times stronger than you give me credit for." I threw the broom away from me. It hit the floor with a loud smack. "And I am warning you, Alpha Blacke, if one of your shifters did this, I will hit back."
Chapter Twelve
"You think this was Dan?" How do you not think this was that rat ex-boyfriend of yours?"
Chandra perched on the edge of the hot spring and swished her bare feet in the water. She was in shorts and a bikini top tonight—all black, of course. I had worn the clothes on my back, since every surface of my home and business was covered in broken glass and I had been too upset to pick my way through it to my closet. Tomorrow I would face it, but today? Today I was licking my wounds.
"Julio was already gone when it happened. Dan hates me and would love to see me out of Sundance—or dead. I don't think he's too picky about which."
"Can't be him. He was at work all day and didn't get home until an hour ago. He had no idea what was going on until I told him. It wasn't Dan." Chandra kicked in the water. "It was Roso. I'm positive of it."
Dolores and Dottie were in the buff as usual, soaking in the spring. Dottie had a bottle of her own homemade wine hoisted above her head, and she and her sister took turns drinking from it.
"It sounds coincidental, I'll give you that, hyena, but I'm with Neely. I don't think it was the wolf, either." Dolores sank in the water up to her neck.
"Alpha thinks it's him. He and our security team have been out searching for Roso all afternoon."
"If everybody's searching, what are you doing here, hyena?" Dolores asked Chandra on a soft burp. "Not that you're not welcome, but you're the tiger's second-in-command and head of security, aren't you? Shouldn't you be out there, too?"
"She's my babysitter." I plunked my feet into the water. My sneakers were by the rock, as was my margarita thermos. I wasn't drinking tonight. I was too sad to enjoy it and too depressed not to want too much of it.
"Babysitter? That's insulting." Dolores scowled.
"Right?" Finally, someone understood how condescending Lucas was being by essentially making Chandra my bodyguard.
"I agree," Dottie said. "Neely doesn't need a babysitter when she's with us. We can keep her safe."
Spoke too soon.
Chandra lifted her feet out of the hot spring and watched the water dribble off her black-painted toenails. "Guess Alpha doesn't think you can."
"Shows what he knows. Tune in your head speakers to THIS." Dolores pinched one eye closed and stuck out her tongue. Nothing happened.
I frowned at her. "What are you trying to—"
"Holyshitmakeitstop," Chandra yelled, clapping her hands to her ears.
Dottie chanted under her breath and made a series of hand motions.
Chandra fell back on the damp bank, her chest heaving. "Is that the tower Galton whistle again?"
The witches had used the Galton whistle on Chandra before when she threatened to attack me. To be precise, the tower had used it. According to Dolores, the tower adjusts the ultrasonic sound to the frequency most likely to "irritate the living daylights" out of the shifter it targets. Humans, witches, and other paranormals are unable to hear it.
"Yep." Dolores climbed out of the watering hole and wrapped a towel around herself. "Since Dot and me have been working on powering up the old girl, she's rewarded us with some nifty new weapons, and improved upon some of the old ones. As you can see, her range is extending, too."
"That was insane." Chandra poked her head up, shook it. "Can I get a portable version?"
"I am grateful for your concern, and don't take this the wrong way, but you are all aware that I possess the ability to kill people with the power of my mind, right?" I snapped.
"Sure. But it's not like you use it." Dolores pulled on a pair of orange sweats and a black cotton top with an orange sequin jack-o-lantern on it. "You hate your power."
"I don't hate it," I grumbled.
"Right," Dolores drawled.
"What will you do tonight, Neely?" Dottie climbed out of the watering hole and toweled off. She tossed another of her colorful muumuus over her head—this one was covered with bright yellow hibiscus flowers. "You know you're welcome to stay here."
"Thanks, Dottie, but I'm going to my uncle's house. I have some clothes there, and he has some supplies I can use to clean up the bakery. I need to at least get my apartment livable."
"You intend to run the place?" Dolores asked. "Even after all this?"
"Yes. I'm going to clean up, bake my butt off, board up the windows if I have to, but I'm going to reopen. If I decide not to run the bakery, it will be on my terms, not because some alphahole who wants to weaponize me, or some Blacke shifter who hates me, or my ex-boyfriend—," I glanced at Chandra, "—chases me out of town." I pulled my feet out of the water and let the gentle night wind dry them.
"Good." Chandra winked at me from across the hot spring.
"I don't think it's a shifter." Dolores perched on a rock by the hot spring. "The lizard said they didn't see any bricks or anything like that lying around. Nothing that could have broken all that glass."
"Earp thought it might have been caused by some sort of ultrasonic sound, like your tower whistle," Chandra said.
"Maybe." Dolores lowered her brows and tapped her lip.
"What are you thinking?" I asked.
Dottie peered into the wine bottle she'd discarded when exiting the watering hole. "She thinks you were attacked by a CFW—a certified fire witch."
"A fire witch?" Chandra rose to her feet. "Why do you say that?"
The witch held up her hands as if in surrender. "Can't say for sure that it was a fire witch. But I've been wracking my brain trying to come up with a way someone could bust all the glass in your place without leaving any weapons behind. No sign of explosives, either. The strangest part is how quiet it was. If it was that strong an ultrasonic sound, Earp would have heard it. Heck, every shifter in town would have heard it."
"Earp and I felt a change in the atmosphere. The air got heavier and hotter, as if we were standing inside an oven. And then all the windows broke. The sound was definitely muted." I stood, dusted off the back of my dress, and searched for my shoes. "There was no fire, though. Only broken windows. What makes you think fire witch?"
"Thermal shock, that's what."
Chandra frowned at Dolores. "What's that?"
"Thermal shock occurs when a difference in temperature causes glass to expand by different amounts." Dolores held up her hand, pointed to the palm. "So, say the temperature on this side of the glass was cold, applying heat—not so intense that it would liquify the glass, but hot enough to cause a severe temperature difference—would make the glass on this side shatter." She pointed to the back of her hand.
"Keeping the sound muffled would be a challenge." Dottie took up the explanation. "But a witch could pull it off if they did a two-day chant or had some other means of funneling power to the spell."
"Or if they were very strong—and determined," Dolores said.
"That's not good," Chandra muttered.
I concurred. It was pretty darn bad, actually.
"We have some experience with fire witches," Dottie said. "Our Uncle Charlie's first wife Felicia was one. After the divorce, she burned every stitch of clothing he owned. In his new house. Without stepping foot inside." S
he shook her head. "He shouldn't have cheated on her."
"Uncle Charlie came to the same conclusion after his tighty-whities went up in flames," Dolores said.
"Thermal shock." My life just kept getting better and better. "So you're saying I have a freaking fire witch gunning for me now?"
"Nah, I'm saying it's a possibility. I don't know what's after you." Dolores leaned in close. "But something is after you, kiddo. And that something is a lot more powerful than your average alpha shifter."
Chandra dropped me off at my uncle's house. He'd kept a treadmill in his back room for nights when he wasn't able to shift but wanted to run off excess energy, and I used the exercise equipment medicinally—to treat the affliction of my jeans not buttoning anymore. I'd left some workout clothes there a few months ago for that exact purpose. Sadly, they were just as clean now as they had been the day I declared I was going to run fifteen miles a week.
The spare key was in the mailbox, so I let myself inside. I didn't have to worry about anyone breaking in. The shifters around here had liked my uncle, so they kept an eye on things. This was not a sentiment that necessarily encompassed me, but so far it still included the house.
I hadn't sold it, hadn't even packed up my tío's things. He'd owned the small house outright—property was cheap in Sundance—and he'd had some savings to cover the bills, but I knew I needed to let it go. I just wasn't ready yet.
I shuffled into the bathroom. There, I found some toothpaste and an unused toothbrush in the medicine cabinet and put it to use as I pondered the implications of a certified fire witch blowing out the windows of my bakery.
How could I fight something like that? I didn't know anything about magic, and if I couldn't see the person attacking me, I couldn't spike them.
Dolores's parting words ran through my mind.
"But something is after you, kiddo. And that something is a lot more powerful than your average alpha shifter."
"They're going to have to take a number." I threw my clothes on the floor and got into the shower.
Lucas showed up an hour after I'd gone to bed. It was only eight o'clock, but I had a lot of work waiting for me tomorrow and I needed the sleep.
He called out my name as he opened the front door, I imagine so he wouldn't startle me. He needn't have bothered. We lived in an isolated desert town that practically rolled up the streets at night. Nearly any noise was noticeable—it's not as if I was waiting for him or anything like that.
"Neely?"
"Come on in. I'm awake. You don't have to whisper."
He entered the dimly lit bedroom and stood at the foot of the bed. "Why didn't you come to my house tonight?"
"Everything I need is here. We stored extra cleaning solution in my tío's shed out back, plus leftover supplies from the original remodel—gloves, hardware, contractor garbage bags, that sort of thing." I flipped onto my side, away from him. "Don't read too much into me coming here. Just take off your clothes and get in bed with me. I'm assuming you didn't bring pajamas."
"You assumed correctly." He chuckled a little, then sobered. "Aren't you still pissed at me for tricking you about going with Earp to pick up plywood?"
"Chandra told you I figured it out?"
"Yeah. She called me a few names and then said I needed to apologize. Whatever. You know, she's supposed to be my best friend."
"Sounds like she's the kind of best friend who tells her friend the truth about himself." I pulled the covers up over my shoulder. "Especially when he acts like an overbearing jerkface."
Lucas sighed as he plopped onto the foot of the bed. "Roso checked out of the motel in La Paloma."
"That seems right. Julio sounded like he was moving on. I'm relieved."
"Relieved?"
"Yeah." I flipped onto my back. "It was stressful having you two so close to each other. My past and present lovers. It was like the Dickens Scrooge story, but with penises instead of ghosts."
A laugh burst out of him. "Sometimes I have no idea what holds us together, and then there are times when you say something utterly batshit like that and I truly understand why I fell for you, sugar cookie."
My heart skipped a beat when he said that. "You fell for me?"
"Like a ton of bricks. How about you?" He crawled up the bed, set his cell phone on the nightstand, and lay down beside me, twining my fingers in his. My bracelet tinkled, an aural reminder of how special this man could make me feel when he set his mind to it. "Have you fallen for me yet?"
Fallen? I was in midair, waving my arms around and screaming as I plummeted.
"Ass over teakettle," I replied. "I have no idea what draws me to you, either—other than your abs and that thing you do with your tongue."
"You like that tongue thing?" He raised our entwined hands to his mouth and kissed my fingers.
"Who wouldn't like that?"
His laugh was low and sexy. "So then, would you say I'm not only the boyfriend of penis present, but possibly the fiancé of penis future?"
"Uh, fiancé? What happened to, 'I'm not ready for the monogamy thing?'"
"That all changed when I got the gold ring in the bread." He wrinkled his nose. "Also, I don't sound like that. Don't try to do my voice."
"Is that right?" I did it again just to annoy him.
He let out a tiger chuff. "I expect you to eventually make an honest man out of me, Costa-MacLeod."
"Make you an honest man? What gives you the idea that I have that kind of time on my hands?" I smiled to myself as he made cute disgruntled sounds.
"It's too late to back out now, smart ass. You have no one to blame for your predicament but yourself. I got the ring in the bread."
This was my favorite Lucas. Vulnerable and annoyed—an easy mark. "Well then, I'm glad I decided to bake Rosca de Reyes today."
"Are you really?" He turned onto his side and rolled me over to face him. "Glad, I mean?"
This damn man. Never had I ever been so irritated and touched and furious and attracted to someone all at the same time. It had to be love. Either love or insanity. Seemed there was a thin line between them sometimes.
"Yes." I kissed him. The lightest of touches, my mouth coasting gently over the softness of his lower lip. "I'm glad."
Chapter Thirteen
Early the next morning, I left Lucas snoring in bed, gathered my supplies, and walked the two short blocks from my uncle's house to the bakery. La Buena Suerte Panaderia appeared hollowed out and mistreated. Less buena suerte and more mala suerte. But then, since my uncle died, most of my luck had been bad.
"I'm sorry, Tío." I whispered as I clip-clopped up the sidewalk in his boots. They were at least four sizes too big, but hopefully they, and the thick gloves I'd brought, would keep me from getting cut while I cleaned up this disaster. "I can't seem to hold this place together no matter how hard I try." I sniffed, wiped away a tear with the back of my hand. "And I know I waffled about wanting to run it for a while, but I really am trying now."
After doing a sweep of the vicinity for anyone who might be hiding in wait for me, I pushed open the plywood-covered front door and shuffled into the empty café. Earp had enlisted the help of Carter Reid to board up the windows and door. It had taken the men a couple hours to finish.
Glass lay scattered over every table and chair. It covered the floor, catching the glint of the overhead lights like a crystalline carpet. Thankfully, not all of the lightbulbs had shattered along with the glass.
As I slogged through the café in my uncle's boots, my workout sweatpants, and a long-sleeved ice-blue T-shirt, my grief grew heavier until it crushed my chest, clamped down on my head, squeezed my lungs.
My beautiful bakery.
My home.
Oddly, nothing was out of place in the kitchen. It was as I'd left it—even the high, narrow windows were intact. I unclasped my bracelet and put it on the shelf by the radio so it wouldn't get dirty. I would have left the jewelry at my uncle's house, but if the lock did have a tracker in it as I suspected,
Lucas would worry if it wasn't with me.
I mounted the staircase leading up to my studio apartment. I'd only gotten a quick look the day before, my main concern had been with the downstairs. Glass from the café floor wedged into the soles of my boots, scraping against the wooden treads as I trudged up the stairs.
Hope trickled out of me.
My apartment was broken. The windows, the glass wall panels around my bed, even the drinking glasses in the dish drainer. The oven door was cracked, the tiny decorative mirrors I'd hung on the wall, every piece of glass in every frame.
Fear knocked the air from my lungs. Someone had come into my home and set out to destroy it. To destroy me. I felt exposed and angry and scared. I wanted to kill something or curl into a ball and cry, or both.
I did neither.
Instead, I clomped back down the stairs, grabbed a broom, dustpan, and a box of heavy-duty garbage bags, and got to work.
A half hour into my cleanup, I sensed another presence near the bakery. Paranormal. Shifter. Possibly an alpha. I opened myself, let the intruder's own power flow into me as I prepared to spike. If this person had come to finish the job they'd started on my panaderia, they were in for a surprise.
I reached out telepathically to see who it was and if they meant me harm. Telepathy wasn't perfect. It required context and a sense of intention, and even then, I could misread all that. In some ways it was as prone to misunderstanding as normal, conversation-based communication.
In this case, however, it was pretty clear. I released the breath I'd been holding along with the energy I'd drawn. It was an alpha, but this alpha was welcome.
The front plywood door swung open wide and a perky, pretty teenage girl poked her head into the café. "Hi Neely. I saw you walking over here and thought I'd drop by and see if you needed any help with cleaning."
"Thanks, Ana. That's sweet of you. Come on in."
Ana Cortez had her older sister Lupita's pretty dark looks—heavily lashed brown eyes, black hair, and a cautious smile. She was an alpha wolf like her sister and mother, but her father had been a coyote shifter. Because of their coyote blood, Ana and Lupita had been targeted by specist wolves in the San Diego pack. The young women had been hunted for no reason other than because their blood wasn't pure wolf.