by Moira Rogers
Lorelei turned to him and squinted against the bright sunlight. “I meant what I said. It’s not as simple as making a call. We might need to take to the streets for a few nights.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” Even if her fear and unease had shredded his nerves by the end of it. “The place I’m thinking about is downtown. Was that Christian’s territory?”
She shook her head. “His stomping grounds were south—near Whitehaven. Downtown belongs to a family pack. They keep to themselves. They don’t fight, but they don’t take anyone in, either.”
The name tickled at the edge of his mind but slipped away before he could catch it. They were the wolves Fletcher had told him about, undoubtedly. He seemed to know every powerful wolf bloodline in the country, though he hardly could have learned about them in some off-the-grid fishing town halfway up Canada’s ass. Probably part of his prince-in-exile schtick, knowing all about other important families.
It didn’t matter now. For Colin’s purposes, an insular family that wouldn’t necessarily beat him down for trespassing in their territory was as close to perfect as things got. And it was probably the reason some past enforcer had picked that neighborhood to build a safe little den for anyone who needed to go to ground for a few days.
He forced a smile. “Then we’ll be okay in this condo. Might need to swing out and get some groceries, though. Last time I stopped in one of these places, there was nothing but flat soda, beef jerky tough enough to chip a tooth and a dozen bags of stale chips.”
“Downtown is good,” she murmured. “Close to midtown, close to Christian’s old place. Downtown is good.”
The eerie repetition chilled him. “Lorelei, honey? Are you all right?”
Her gaze snapped to his face. “I’m fine.”
There were too many cars on the road to allow him a lingering look at her, but she seemed spooked. Wide-eyed, too pale—afraid, but fighting so hard to keep it bottled up. He needed to get her inside four walls. Get her back against something solid, curl up around her, something. Until he could, he just had to keep her with him.
No choice, then. She’d have to talk. “Tell me about these people we’re looking for.”
Lorelei’s knuckles had gone white, and she relaxed her hands and stretched her fingers out on her legs. “I need to talk to Boz first. Even if she doesn’t have what we need, she’ll know where we should start.”
He nodded. “Tell me about Boz. She’s one of the ones who stays off the radar?”
“She’s an older wolf. Homeless.” Lorelei hesitated. “She took care of me for a while.”
Someone as protective of her privacy as Lorelei wouldn’t want to share that much of her past with him. Colin understood her reticence now, at least, but it stung. “And that’s why it’s hard to track her down?”
“No, it’s hard because she’s homeless. And unless I run into someone who’s been around long enough to recognize me and tell me where she is, we’ll have to get lucky.”
Colin chomped down on his tongue to keep from saying anything stupid. His clumsy attempt to sidestep questions about Lorelei’s painful past ended up more awkward than reassuring. Jay had trusted him with her sanity and well-being, and failure loomed before him, a bottomless chasm.
He’d give a fucking kidney for something concrete to fight. “Okay, so we hit the streets. That’s how I used to do this, before Shane tried to upgrade me.”
She flashed him a skeptical look. “And how well did you blend with your nice boots and your shoulder holster? You look like a cop.”
There’d been a time when those words would have been unfathomable. “I cleaned up all pretty before coming into Jay’s town, but I dirty down all right too.”
“It’s okay. I’ll watch out for you.”
That pricked his pride, but he choked back a defensive retort. “It’s your turf, sweetheart. I sure hope you will.”
The first hint of a smile played at the corner of her mouth as she nodded toward the windshield. “The next exit might be best this time of day. Miss the traffic.”
It felt like taking a step away from that cliff. “If you can get me to Main Street, that’ll help.”
“North Main or South?”
He rattled off the address from memory, one of the two dozen or so he had bouncing around in his head. By mutual agreement, the enforcers never left a written record of any of the safe houses scattered across the country.
She shook her head. “Then stay on the interstate. We’ll get off at Madison and cut through.” Once he’d shifted lanes, she arched an eyebrow. “That’s only a few blocks away from the courthouse, you know. And the jail. Do enforcers like to hide in plain sight, or something?”
Colin shrugged. “We’re not usually hiding from human law. The wolves we’re chasing tend to avoid it, though.”
“Right.” She tapped her fingers on the car door. “I’ll have to get used to that.”
“Should be easy in Clover, what with the human law living across the hall and all.”
She rolled her eyes and grinned. “Jay’s a werewolf who just happens to be the law. That’s different. Besides, Zack trusts him. Zack never trusted the cops here.”
Zack was shaggy, tattered around the edges and covered in tattoos. Colin would bet his too-shiny boots that the man didn’t clean up to look terribly respectable. “Well, I wouldn’t trust the human law around here, either. But I’ll sure as hell make use of them.”
“I bet you will.”
At least he’d found a way to hold her nerves at bay—all he had to do was ask for her help. “Stop being a smartass and tell me where I’m going next.”
Lorelei leaned her head back, her grin subsiding into a smile. “Keep your eyes peeled for three round buildings, all grouped together. You can’t miss them.”
She was smiling. She was breathing, and some of the choking tension in the tiny car had eased. He’d figured out what she needed all on his own, so maybe he wasn’t too broken to do a little good in the world.
He could do this. He would do it. For her.
Chapter Five
Lorelei paused, waiting for a line of traffic to pass, and took the opportunity to study Colin in the dim, yellow light from the humming street lamp.
He’d discarded his clean-cut attire for something a little rougher, and a day’s worth of stubble covered his jaw. But he still stuck out, even as a shadowed figure in the darkness. He was too big, maybe, or he carried himself with too much assurance. Comfortable in his own skin, something no one on the city streets ever seemed to be.
Or maybe it was just the fact that he didn’t look like the usual sort of human predator that prowled this area, but no one watching the way his gaze scanned the streets could mistake him for anything else. He was a hunter, one who could never be prey.
“You look like you want to hit someone,” Lorelei whispered. “Try to tone it down. If people see you coming, they’ll run for cover.”
Colin exhaled slowly. “I do want to,” he admitted as he rolled his shoulders. “But I didn’t realize it was that obvious.”
Maybe not to most people, but living on the street was different. If you didn’t hone your instincts and learn to recognize danger before it recognized you, you could wind up beaten—or worse. “You’ve been starving for a fight since before any of this went down.”
He edged closer, until his arm brushed her shoulder. “It’s not that I want a fight. But the problems that can be solved by one are a lot easier.”
“Yeah? Not in my experience.”
His lips pressed into a firm line, though she could tell his irritation was self-directed. “I suppose not.”
The need to comfort him welled, and she reacted to it automatically, like breathing. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and pulled him across the street. “Come on.”
The abandoned building on Vance Street was surrounded by dirt and lots in various stages of development. In a few more months, it too would likely be razed to make way for
condos and multipurpose structures, all in the name of urban renewal. Until then, it was as good a place to check as any.
They picked their way around to a door with a broken padlock. The door squeaked on rusty hinges as they pushed it open, and Colin paused with his head cocked, listening intently. “Are the people you’re hoping to find human, or wolves?”
“Could be either.” Lorelei stepped over a stained mattress just inside the doorway.
Colin nodded and followed her, but his tension had worsened. He hovered behind her left shoulder, a silent shadow, as she made her way through the open archway to the left and into the large, cavernous room beyond.
A flurry of movement in the corner caught her eye, two forms that shrank deeper into the shadows. “Wait—” Lorelei stumbled over a broken bottle in her haste, and Colin caught her elbow, easing her upright with a soft touch along with another hand at her hip. “I’m looking for someone. She stays here sometimes when the weather turns cold.”
A young face peeked out of the darkness, big blue eyes above smudged cheeks that were thinner than Lorelei remembered—not from hunger, but because they belonged to a young woman instead of a little girl. Recognition sparked, and the girl smiled as the other figure reached out to haul her back. “Dad, it’s okay. It’s okay, it’s Lorelei.”
Her father loomed above her, inching forward into a shaft of moonlight that had snuck between the boards on the window. He squinted at Lorelei, his hands tight on his daughter’s shoulders. “Maybe it is, at that.” His smile was slower to come, ragged around the edges. “Been a long time.”
His name was Bruce. She remembered him the way she remembered almost everything from her days on the streets—hazily, hesitantly, because she still wondered if all of it had been real or just a nightmare. “It’s been a while.” She smiled at his daughter. “Hi, Amber.”
Amber’s eyes held shadows, but not as many as her father’s. She was all awkward adolescent eagerness now, a puppy desperate for a friendly face. “It’s Boz, right? I mean, that’s who you’re looking for.”
“That’s right. Is she here?”
“No, she’s down by the overpass again.”
Bruce sighed and met Lorelei’s gaze. “I tried to get her to come up here, last time we talked, but she’s…” Another sigh. A shrug. “You know.”
“It’s the noise,” she explained. “She likes the way the trucks sound when they—” Her voice cracked, and Lorelei cleared her throat. “Thanks, Bruce.”
Colin touched her shoulder, his whisper barely loud enough for her to hear. “Will he take money?”
It would sting Bruce’s tattered pride—but pride meant nothing next to the possibility of a safe place for his daughter to sleep, a hot shower and food in her belly. She wished they could stay at the condo, but Bruce and Amber were human. Taking them to a werewolf safe house could wind up being more dangerous than leaving them to sleep on the streets.
“He’ll take it,” she answered, her own voice pitched low.
Moving in near silence, Colin slipped his wallet free and emptied it of cash. After another moment’s thought, he pulled out what looked like a credit card. “It’s a prepaid cash card,” he said, holding the money and card out to Bruce. “Five hundred dollars, untraceable.”
Bruce looked to Lorelei again, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What the hell are you mixed up in?”
“I make soap.” The truth, after a fashion. “The money’s legit, Bruce. Take it.”
He huffed, but closed his fingers around the money quickly enough. “Thanks,” he told Colin gruffly, then smiled at Lorelei. He wrapped his free arm around Amber and mouthed the word again. Thanks.
“If you need anything…” She’d written up cards bearing her cell phone number, and she dug one out of her pocket now. “I’m not in Memphis anymore, but I’m not far away. Please.”
It was Amber who reached for it, clutching it with another smile. “Tell Boz that I miss her.”
“I will, sweetheart. You take care.” Lorelei turned, mindful of the shattered glass covering the floor, as Bruce and Amber began to gather their belongings.
Colin circled ahead of her, scouting the alley before gesturing her out into the fresh air. His gaze held hers for a long moment, and she knew the questions were poised on the tip of his tongue. A hundred of them, each one clear in his eyes—
But he only gripped her hand. “They’ll get out okay?”
“They’ll be fine.” Lorelei shifted the slight weight of her dark backpack. “We’ll either have to take a cab or circle back for the car. It’s too far to walk.”
“Which do you think is safer?”
The night was closing in on her. Lorelei latched on to his question like a rope and used it to pull herself up out of the encroaching panic. “The car. We may need to get out of there fast, and better we lose Fletcher’s fancy rims than our lives, right?”
Colin nodded and tugged her toward the street. “Fletcher will get over it. Hell, he may be glad I gave him an excuse to be grumpy about something.”
Casual conversation. Lorelei was usually good at it, but not here, now, with remnants of her past swirling all around them. The night was thick with memories, echoing off every inch of crumbling stone and cracked pavement.
Her past was part of her, another part that no doubt horrified Colin. He’d barely kept that horror in check, buried under solicitous touches and careful, careful words chosen to put her at ease, but he couldn’t hide it.
And things were about to get worse.
The only comfort Colin had to offer Lorelei was the illusion of privacy, and he’d sacrifice anything in its pursuit. Of course, so far he’d only offered up Fletcher’s car. The true test would come when Colin had to give her some scrap of himself.
It had to be soon. Lorelei’s past lay spread before them in heartbreaking detail. She picked a too-sure path through mattresses and bedrolls huddled in the darkness under the overpass, but it wasn’t her familiarity that made him so, so certain that he was staring at a bit of her history. It was the tightness in her shoulders, the bone-deep resignation.
She felt exposed, and Colin’s wolf wanted to curl around her in protective defense.
She stopped beside one mattress heaped with gray wool and tattered blankets. Colin could make out a form beneath the pile, but it could have been male or female, old or young. Small or large.
It was definitely wolf.
Lorelei knelt on the dirty, steep expanse of concrete beside the mattress. “Boz.”
The blankets twitched. “If you’re a ghost, I’m not looking. You’re not there as long as I don’t look.”
“I’m not a ghost. I’m here.” Lorelei reached out and brushed her fingers over one ragged edge of fabric.
Colin started as a dirty hand shot out to clutch at Lorelei’s wrist. The fingers were painfully thin, almost skeletal, and Colin reassessed how much of the mound on the mattress was made up of blankets. A starving wolf was a danger to everyone around them. A crazed, starving wolf—
And she was crazed. Wild curly hair poked out from beneath the blanket, followed by dark brown eyes that focused on empty air instead of Lorelei. “I told you, girl. I ain’t riding no motorcycle.”
“Okay,” she agreed, as if the statement had made sense. She unzipped her backpack and pulled out a small Thermos. “I brought you some coffee, Boz. The real kind.”
Boz surged up and wrapped both shaking hands around the Thermos. “Just coffee, no arsenic?” She laughed as if she’d made a wonderful joke, but the sharp-edged sound cut off abruptly when her gaze fell on Colin. She frowned and tilted her head to such an extreme angle that his neck ached in sympathy.
“He changed his face,” Boz said finally. “And got rid of his scars. Ink’s not supposed to heal.”
“This isn’t Zack. It’s Colin.”
“Colin.” The old wolf rolled his name around on her tongue, as if tasting it. “Still don’t see any scars.”
Maybe Colin should be worrie
d that her twisted words made a bit of sense. Or maybe he was putting his own meaning there. Either way he nodded. “No scars. I was never brave enough to trace mine in ink.”
Boz pointed a gnarled finger at his face. “Brave isn’t your problem,” she proclaimed, then laughed again and turned her attention to Lorelei. For a moment, her brown eyes cleared. “Where did you go?”
“We left town.” The words rasped out of Lorelei’s throat like sandpaper. “I’m sorry.”
“Evil was hunting you. Running was smart. Boz’s girl was always smart.” She managed to wrench the top off the Thermos, though judging from the sound of cracking plastic, it was due less to dexterity than to a hint of werewolf strength. Sharp as the smell of fresh coffee was, it couldn’t overwhelm the scent of despair in the night air.
Lorelei’s pale face shone bright in the darkness. “Christian Peters is dead. Do you know—has anyone been looking for me? Come to ask you where I am?”
Boz frowned over the edge of her coffee. “I wouldn’t help the hunters find you, girl. Not ever.”
“I know that,” Lorelei said hurriedly. “Never. I just need to know if someone has tried. If another bad man took Christian’s place.”
Hunching lower, Boz shot Colin a wary look. “He’s sharp edges. He smells like death. Like the cold ones.”
“Boz—”
“No, listen!” the woman hissed as her fingers locked around Lorelei’s wrist again, this time with more force. “Cold and quiet, that’s what it’s been. But now you’re here, and there go the screams again.”
Colin stepped forward and slid his hand onto Lorelei’s shoulder, his fingers trembling with the need to curl tight and yank her away from the mere whisper of danger. “I’m an enforcer,” he said into the silence, keeping his voice soft and even. “Do you know about enforcers?”
“I know you’re dark,” Boz snapped. “The hunters had other colors, red and blue, but not you. Oh, not you.”
