by Kiki Howell
“I see.”
Mac took a moment to try to see the situation from that side. After a few moments, he could say that he hated how he’d acted as well. As he played back his actions from their time together, it was apparent how much of an ass he’d been sending mixed signals all damn day.
“Looks like the old Mac I know and respect is coming back online. You see what you did to that poor woman, don’t you?”
All Mac could do was nod in agreement.
“How did you become so astute at the ways of women?”
“You forget I have three sisters and had to get away from all the eligible she-wolves to escape to Atlanta.”
“You never told me the details.”
“As an alpha, I’m what you’d call a catch.” Mac couldn’t stop rolling his eyes at Danny’s pronouncement. Ignoring him, the wolf continued. “When it looked like I wasn’t interested in making a play for the alpha role of my family’s pack, some of the stronger she-wolves got it in their mind that I’d be starting a younger stronger pack. One that they’d like to be alpha over as well. I went through almost two years of hell trying to make sure I didn’t get caught up in the politics, seductive ensnarement, and outright manipulation by them and the elders to escape being mated. With my sisters’ help, I learned how to see them coming a mile away. I also learned what I needed to do when I do find my mate. Mac, I say this with love and respect, but you messed up—bad. Fix it, or you’ll regret this for the rest of your long-ass life.”
For all that Tennessee drawl, Danny had a great head on his shoulders. This situation proved the fact even more. Standing and snatching his mate’s things from the wolf, Mac breathed a bit of relief to have something of hers as a lifeline to win her back.
“Good. I don’t know how you were able to stand another man touching your mate’s things for as long as I did.”
“One more word out of you, wolf, and I’m going to give you something to ponder on—a singed ass. Now back off.”
“Yeah, you got it bad. You only bring out the Dragon-fire when you’re serious.” Looking in the direction of the garage, Danny said, “Get out of here and go do your thing. I bet she’s still up.”
Already ahead of the wolf’s suggestion, Mac was out the door. He’d taken a few steps before stopping and turning back to his office.
“Move,” he said to Danny, pushing the wolf aside to get back into his office.
“What now? Don’t drag this out. It’s already after seven, and she lives forty-five minutes from here.”
“Yeah, I know, but I promised I’d pay her for her time today and I’m going to make good on that.”
Mac opened his home safe, not caring that Danny saw it. The wolf was as honest as the day was long, plus, the bio-security on the safe would mean anyone besides him would have to have his body parts there to open it anyway. Guessing what she might make per day, he pulled out a bound band of hundreds that totaled ten-thousand dollars. Rethinking that she’d said ten times her daily fee, he pulled out another ten grand, grabbed a manila envelope, scribbled,
Per our meeting fee agreement. Here is our agreed upon rate for your time. I’m sorry, please forgive me, Mac.
Then placed the money inside. Opening her purse, he wedged the money inside next to her wallet.
“Is the address on her license the correct one?”
“Ooh, good catch, boss. No, found it was different when I checked records last night preparing for her pick up.”
Danny synced her address from his phone to Mac’s. When Mac left again, prepared to get his mate and bring her back home, he heard Danny say, “Good luck, Dragon.”
Chapter Eleven
BRONWYN
Stunned. That was the only way to describe the tsunami of events making everything in her life suck. Placing a stack of clothes into a garbage bag, she allowed the tears to fall. It was funny, she didn’t feel like she was crying and yet here the tears were.
If anything, tiredness and intensifying pain in her hurting foot should have her in bed getting some rest. Despite the three extra-strength over-the-counter painkillers she’d taken, pain relief was nowhere in sight. Instead of collapsing into a heap of despair, Bronwyn did what she was good at. She hustled to get packed. She wouldn’t be caught still here, hiding from the notice when the Po-Po came in the morning.
Her mouth had finally written a check her ass couldn’t cash. It was totally her own doing. Yeah, she’d gone all Billy-Bad-Ass on her landlords only for them to have the last strike. She talked too much, giving them the game plan to turn the tables on her. The sneaky bastards had gone to the Condo Association and lied on her.
Based on the embarrassingly large Notice of Eviction and Possible Prosecution posting that greeted her when she made it back to her Condo, Jonah and his bitch had reported her as an unlawfully trespassing “squatter.” The notice said that the Association had been made aware of a “squatter” staying illegally in their home by the lawful tenants. The swift action of the Condo Association had been to inform her in a public posting on the front of her door with that Notice that she had twenty-four hours to vacate or she’d be forcibly removed and charges would be filed and pursued for trespassing and other crimes.
It was too much.
Her van had been just shy of demolished. She’d been rejected by the man of her dreams. Her foot hurt like hell and felt like it had doubled in size since getting back. She’d lost or left her purse somewhere between Mac’s house and here, and she had no keys to get in. It was sheer luck that she hadn’t locked her old van last night. Remembering she kept another full set of keys in the storage compartment, Bronwyn had made the long trip back downstairs to scrounge around until she located the extra set of keys to the Condo and van. The eyesore affectionately known as her van was old, damaged and on its last leg, but it was hers, free and clear.
This day was the worst. On top of all the bullshit going on, when she’d taken off Mac’s t-shirt that still smelled of him, she noticed a perfect circular bruise of the outline of the steering wheel from yesterday prominently displayed in deep purple on her chest. And, yes, it hurt too. Determined to pack and get out of the condo by the end of the night, she made a lot of slow, painful, small loads down to her old van to pack up her things. Hour after painful hour, she made trips back and forth determined to finish up before morning. Each trip brought a new level of pain to her foot, ankle, and chest.
Managing to park the new van Mac had gotten her next to hers in the other assigned parking space for this condo, Bronwyn looked at the new vehicle with cringing embarrassment. Each time she made another trip down here to pack up and prepare to leave, it reminded her of the ass she’d made of herself with him. Shame for that part of her day would have to take a number, get in line, and wait until she had enough time to wallow in it appropriately. At the moment, she was back on the base level of Maslow’s Hierarchy of needs, trying to survive.
With only a few more bags of clothing, linen, shoes and what-nots to bring down, Bronwyn’s mind shifted to the stuff she needed help moving. Over the year, she’d been wooed by Ikea and bought a little desk here, a storage cabinet there and other crap that she refused to donate to those owner assholes.
Then it hit her, how she was going to get her computer, TV, and the few other heavier items down here was anyone’s guess. Since living here, she’d kept to herself, minding her own business and being like a ghost in her coming and going. There had been no time to make friends, friends who might help her get her things down to the van tonight. That’s what she got for being so damn independent and alone. There was no way she could call any of her neighbors or clients to come and help.
“Figure it out. You always do. You’ve got this Bron,” she said in her usual personal empowerment mantra.
Packing the last of her refrigerated food into the old cooler she kept in the back of the van, Bronwyn turned to close the busted door when a sharp pain sent her down to the ground. Looking down at her foot, it was more than twice its nor
mal size and turning blue. Unable to get up on her own, she sat there and had a deep, body-shaking cry. Understanding the difference between being alone and loneliness, the latter had always been a foe she never entertained—until now.
Loneliness swallowed her up as Bronwyn sat on the dirty cement floor of the parking garage. She had no more fight left. She’d allow herself a two minute at most mini breakdown session. Then she'd come back with a vengeance, she promised herself. Closing her eyes and laying back to get a little relief from the hardness of the ground, she wasn’t ready for when she was lifted up with ease. It was his scent that greeted her first. When she managed to get her swollen, tear-filled eyes open, gray-blue eyes full of anger stared down at her.
“Who did this to you?” he asked.
“Did what?” She startled at the hiccup that accompanied her tear-laced question.
“Who pushed you down on the ground like this. And look at your foot. What happened to make it swell like this? Didn’t I ask you to stay off of it until it could finish mending?”
“Mac, what are you doing here?” She was glad to see him, but why was he here, at night, acting like she’d kicked his dog and stolen his cat? “How did you know where to find me?”
“That’s not important. Why are you down here on the ground?”
“I fell.”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to finish packing.”
“Packing?” Heat suffused anger bloomed and deepened across his face and neck. For a brief moment, fear rose up within her at seeing how fearsome he could appear. “Why were you packing? Were you trying to leave me?”
“Leave you? Mac, what are you talking about?” She didn’t have time for this line of talk again. It had gotten her nowhere with him earlier. Everything hurt, and she wanted a little peace. “You know what? Put me down. I got down here, I can get back up to that Condo.”
“Nah, not going to happen. Answer me, woman.”
“Answer you what?”
“Why were you trying to leave me?” Again, sincerity accompanied his question. This man really believed she was trying to leave with his van.
“I wasn’t leaving or taking your van. If you don’t believe me, look inside my van. I’m packing my own van to leave.”
“I don’t give a shit about that van. Why are you packing if you weren’t leaving me and where were you going to go?”
“You ask a lot of questions to not have any right to them, don’t you?”
“Answer me, Bronwyn.”
“Fine. I was doing as instructed by the Condo Association. They’ve given me twenty-four hours from notice to vacate the premises or be arrested for trespassing.”
“Trespassing? This is where you live, right?”
“Yes, and before you ask, I’m not behind on the rent. I was subleasing from the couple who lives here ‘legally’ as they pointed out to me. Stupid as I was, I forgot to get a subleasing agreement from them when I moved in.”
“Oh, I see. That agreement wouldn’t have mattered. It’s against most Condo Associations’ covenants to have a sub-leaser without prior approval.”
“Yeah. How would you know that?”
“Because I have some condos here and there.”
“Well, good for you.” She knew it was snippy, but they were having this personal conversation in the parking garage where their voices echoed, and people were still coming and going. “Hate to be, oh I don’t know, the rational one here, but can’t we finish this somewhere more private?”
Hoisting her up higher in his arms, he said, a little too chipper for her taste, “Glad you suggested it.”
Instead of going back toward the elevator to her Condo, he turned and headed for a sleek, exotic sports car.
“Where do you think you’re taking me?”
“Home.”
“I have a home, at least for the next twelve hours. I need to finish getting my stuff down here.”
“Is it a lot of stuff,” she didn’t like how he stressed that word, “you need to finish getting?”
“No.”
“Is it packed up and ready to go?”
“Yeah, I just need to get my bathroom items, computer, and plants. Oh, and the last two bags of my clothes and shoes.”
“Is that it?” he asked, casting a bit of his own sarcasm her way.
“Yep. So, you can put me down and let me finish up. I don’t want them throwing my things on the street in the morning.”
“They’d do that?”
“Yes, if the Sheriff comes and my things are still here.”
“Barbarians.”
“Business, baby.”
He smiled. “I like how you call me baby.”
“I didn’t call you baby, it was just an expression.”
He gave her a wicked wink. “If that’s what you need to make your slip up of affection toward me work, then delight in it, but I know the truth.”
“Ooh! For real, put me down. I’ve got to finish up, and you’re burning my window of time with this nonsense.”
Sighing, he said, “I’ll readjust you to ride on my back as you direct me to your condo.”
“No, go home. I’ve got this. It’s my mess to clean up.”
“It’s our mess, and I’m the only one able to do any cleaning tonight.” He swung her around like she was his ballroom dance partner to position her on his back. “Which way to your place?”
The set of his shoulders clearly conveyed that she wouldn’t be getting rid of him anytime soon.
“Geez, you’re stubborn.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Dear one, anything you say to me is a compliment.”
“Ooh—you’re exasperating!”
“Wait until I show you the ways.”
“Stop it, Mac, I mean it or I start yelling for help.”
His deep chuckle filled the elevator as they entered.
THREE MORE HOURS OF packing, cleaning, fighting with Mac to let her do things and she was back downstairs in his sports car too pooped to protest. It was well past her normal bedtime, her body had given up and gone into a dull numb humming of blunt pain, and she needed a hot bath to remove grit and grime from all the moving and doing of the evening.
“I’ll get Danny to take care of getting both your vans over to the house in the morning.”
“We haven’t discussed this yet. I’m tired, but I can afford to find a hotel for the night.”
“Why, Bronwyn, why?” Frustration directed at her filled the small space of the selfish excuse for transportation known as a sports car.
It had taken both vans to get all her stuff inside, but he’d moved everything she said down without the least bit of complaint. It was hard staying angry with him for his earlier behavior.
“Before I forget, you left these at home earlier.”
She caught herself staring at how the muscles in his lower arm flexed and moved under his bronze skin as he reached over and under her car seat to pull out her purse and that pretentious portfolio she’d bought to impress clients. For a moment, she wished he’d planted another kiss on her, but instead, she settled for reuniting with her lost purse. As was her habit when she misplaced things, Bronwyn opened the purse to check to see if everything was there.
Stuffed beside her wallet was a thick envelope. She looked over at Mac who was back in his seat. He returned her look with warmth in his eyes. Emotion that had been held at bay all afternoon and evening rumbled up, making her stomach growl. That and the fact that she hadn’t eaten today.
Instead of prolonging the suspense, she snatched the envelope out of her purse, turned it over to see a strong, clear, neat masculine script covering that side. Reading his words hit her deep down in an area never before accessed. Blinking back more tears, she sat for a second and then relented.
“You didn’t have to do this, any of it, but you did.” Feeling the intimacy of the moment, Bronwyn flung caution to the wind. “Come here.” She opened h
er arms to receive the large man in the small space as he leaned in to hug her.
This time it was she who initiated the kiss. Meeting the pleasure of his lips as his body heat encapsulated her was the homecoming she might have always been searching for. This was right. Not because of the money, but because when she needed someone the most, he was the one who’d been there, refusing to leave.
Pulling back before the kiss became inappropriate for the parking garage, he said, “We need to get your foot checked out.”
“Buzz kill. You really took the sugar out of that piece of cake. How do you know I was finished with you?” At this level of tired, all hope of manners was gone to be replaced with raw honesty.
“I hope you’re never finished with me,” he said, voice dripping with sexiness,” but right now, you need to be checked out by a doctor. I can sense pain radiating through your body. That’s not something I’ll tolerate where you’re concerned. I don’t want to chance it by waiting until the morning to make sure you’re all right.”
“Okay, but I don’t think any of the Urgent Care centers are still open at this time of night. I’m too tired to go to the emergency room.” Her yawn came at the right moment for emphasis.
“How quickly you forget the resources I have access to. I’m taking you home where my friend, who’s a doctor, is going to meet us. He’ll give you an exam and let us know what you need.”
Chapter Twelve
BRONWYN
“Hairline fractures? But, it doesn’t feel broken.” She couldn’t believe it. Her foot and ankle were broken in three places.
“That’s because you continued to use it after the first fracture began. The others splintered out from the stress point of the first. You also forget the power of adrenaline. Trust me, when it wears off, you’re going to know your foot and ankle have been fractured.” Continuing to look at her with intense interest as he had during his examination, he added, “Stay put and take the pain meds I’m leaving here for you. Mac will see to it that your prescription is filled, but you need to take them now before the pain gets to be unbearable.”
