Grave Threat: Grant Wolves Book 3

by Lori Drake

  “This is amazing,” she said around a mouthful of cheesy, meaty, tomatoey goodness.

  “Always wondered what it’d be like to be a woman,” Dean said. “What do you think, Rog?”

  Roger ignored him in favor of taking another bite of pizza. He moaned again and flopped backward to lie on the floor. Fortunately, the pizza wasn’t hot enough for the toppings to slide off, because he proceeded to consume the rest of it lying down, making such intense sounds of gastrointestinal delight that even Adam chuckled.

  Minutes ticked by. Roger took his time. But all good things must end, and when he’d finally nibbled the last crumb of sumptuous crust and licked Jessica’s slim, pale fingers, he breathed a contented sigh.

  “So that’s what a foodgasm looks like,” Lucy said, lips twitching with ill-suppressed mirth.

  “All right, you’ve had your fun,” Chris said, leaning over to set his own empty plate on the coffee table. Standing, he fished the charm from his pocket and bent to hold it out. When Roger opened his eyes, he reached for it. When it touched Jessica’s fingers, she blinked and looked up at Chris in confusion.

  “What the— Why am I on the floor?”

  Chris grinned and clasped her hand, the charm sandwiched between their palms. “Good news: the charm works.” He tugged her upright and crouched beside her. “You okay?”

  Jessica shook her head as if to clear it. “Yeah. That never gets any less weird, you know?”

  Chris patted her shoulder. “I know.” Straightening, he addressed the others. “I’m going to go call Cathy and let her know it worked so she can get started on more.”

  “Do you want another slice for the road?” Lucy asked.

  Chris took two and headed for his office. The room had been stripped bare and the walls had been painted, but the floor hadn’t been done yet. The only piece of furniture he’d kept was an old leather desk chair. A folding table served as a desk for now, holding nothing more than his laptop, a framed picture of Joey, and a few pieces of mail someone had left for him. Six weeks of residence, and he was already getting junk mail. He tossed the old journal Cathy had given him onto it and flopped in the chair with his dinner to give her a call.

  An hour later, he’d moved on to watching a DIY stair-building video online when a light rap on his open door drew his eyes from the screen. Lucy came into the room, carrying a cardboard box.

  “What’s up?” Chris asked.

  Lucy brought the box over to his desk and set it down on one corner. “We had to clear out a closet this afternoon for the plumber. He needed to get to a pipe. Found this and thought you might be interested.”

  “Oh?” Chris rose and pulled the box toward him. It was heavier than he expected, and for good reason. It was full of books. “Well, I do like books.” He plucked one from the top of the stack and realized it wasn’t merely a book. It was a journal. He flipped open the cover and found “Henry Martin” written inside, along with a date range. “Shit. These are my dad’s.”

  It shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. His birth parents’ stuff was crammed in seemingly every out-of-the-way corner of the house. They’d been shoving whatever they found into the basement or attic over the last month and a half, just to get it out of the way. Eventually he’d have to go through it and figure out what was worth keeping, but it wasn’t a task he was looking forward to.

  Lucy smiled softly. “Like I said, thought you might be interested.”

  Chris tore his eyes from the journal and returned her smile. “I am, thanks. Were there more or just these?”

  “Greedy much?” Her eyes twinkled with good humor. “Just these, sorry. If I find any more, I’ll let you know. And I’ll spread the word so we’re on the lookout.”

  “Thanks, Lucy. I really appreciate it.” Chris began removing the rest of the journals from the box, opening each to check the dates inside so he could put them in order.

  Lucy lingered, watching him. “One more thing.” She held out a hand with a thick roll of bills bound by a rubber band atop it.

  Chris shook his head and went back to his work. “I’ve told you, Lucy. There’s no more tithing in this pack. The money you make is yours.”

  “I know. This isn’t that. This is for the house.”

  “Huh?”

  “Adam and I have been saving up. We want to help with the repairs. I’m sure this is just a drop in the bucket, but we live here too. We want to help.”

  Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s okay, Lucy. Really.”

  Lucy set the roll of bills on the desk and tucked her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “When I was a kid, my grandma used to come and visit once or twice a year. For holidays, you know? Anyway, she always wanted to help pay for things, but Mom wouldn’t let her. For months after she left, we’d find money in odd places. Inside shoes, between pans in the cupboard… So don’t make me get creative. I learned from a master.”

  Chris laughed. “All right, have it your way.”

  Lucy gave a satisfied nod and turned to go. By the time she made it across the room, Chris had put the money from his mind and was absorbed once more in organizing his birth father’s journals by date. When he finished, he sat back down and looked at them, not sure what to do next. His fingers itched to reach for the first one, but he hesitated. Part of him was curious to learn something about the man everyone around here seemed to know more about than he did. But reading his journals felt like an invasion of privacy, even if he was dead.

  His eyes tracked to the other journal on his desk. He felt no such compunctions about that one. Trubnikova was much longer gone from this world, and Chris had no personal connection to her. Then again, he barely had any personal connection to his birth father either.

  With changing that on his mind, he reached for his father’s first journal and leaned back in his chair. Propping his feet up on the table, he dove in.

  3

  It was nearly eight p.m. by the time Joey knocked on Chris’s door. Some nights, there was no such thing as a quick dinner with the family. Sara had gotten her first ultrasound that afternoon, so there was a lot of passing the grainy picture around and speculating about whether the child she carried was a boy or girl. At least it’d been an entertaining diversion. Joey was happy for Sara and Jon. God knew she wasn’t ready to start a family of her own anytime soon.

  Adam answered the door, smiling broadly. “Hey, Joey, come on in. Alpha didn’t mention you were coming by. Is he expecting you?”

  Joey slipped inside and shed her coat, but held on to it when Adam offered to take it. “If not, would you send me packing?”

  Adam dropped his eyes and rubbed his arm. “No, of course not.”

  Joey nudged him with a gentle elbow. “Just teasing. He knows I’m coming. Let me guess… office?” She glanced around the room, taking in the pizza boxes on the coffee table and the paused video game on the television.

  Lucy waved from the sofa, holding one of the wireless controllers. “Yeah, he’s in his office. Or was, last time I saw him.”

  “Thanks,” Joey said. “Sorry to interrupt.”

  The twins settled back to play their game, and Joey headed off to Chris’s office. She peeked around the doorframe and found him kicked back in his chair with his nose in a book. Lingering there, she watched him with a small smile. Every now and then, she was struck by a sort of bewildered appreciation for the fact that he was still around. This was one of those times. Her eyes roamed the familiar planes of his face from afar, but she knocked before her clandestine observation shifted from an affectionate lingering glance into creeper territory.

  His eyes lifted from his book and a smile lit up his face. “Hey, you.”

  “Hey, yourself. What have you got your nose in tonight?” Joey wandered over, tossing her jacket over a folding chair.

  Chris dropped his feet from the edge of his makeshift desk and rocked upright in his chair. “That’s an interesting story, actually.” He hooked an arm around her waist and drew he
r into his lap when she came around to his side of the desk.

  Joey took the book from him as she settled, puzzling over its unmarked cover before opening it and glancing inside. “Your dad’s journal? Where’d you find this?”

  “Lucy brought me a whole box of them they found in a closet today.” Chris tucked his arms around Joey, and his warm lips brushed her neck. She couldn’t help but arch her neck, and it took her a few seconds to collect her thoughts enough to rejoin the conversation.

  “Learn anything interesting?” she asked.

  “Actually, yes.” His breath was warm on her neck, which he nuzzled with the tip of his nose while speaking. “He wrote a lot about pack leadership, the dynamics of his pack, and the challenges of reconciling different personalities—especially where other alphas with varying dominance drives are concerned.”

  “Sounds fascinating,” Joey said, her dry tone belying her words. “I’m sure Mom would be happy to go on for hours about that if you really want to learn about it.” He stilled, and she instantly regretted bringing her mother up.

  “Well, I think it’s interesting.” He pressed his lips softly to her skin again before tucking his chin over her shoulder and tightening his arms.

  Since she’d already brought the subject up, Joey elected to double down. “What’s going on with you and Mom, anyway? It seems like you’ve barely spoken in weeks.”

  “I don’t know, Joey. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

  “Have you tried, I dunno, asking her?”

  He sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Joey twisted in his lap, turning sideways so she could look at him. “I know not talking about things is kind of tradition for us, but why don’t we try something new?”

  He smiled, albeit weakly, but his eyes held hers. “That’s usually my line.”

  Joey narrowed her eyes and poked him in the chest. “Don’t change the subject.”

  Chris drew in a breath and exhaled slowly, looking away but not down. “I don’t know what to tell you, babe. I don’t fully understand what’s going on with her. I think we’re just trying to find our footing. She’s not used to being my peer, you know? And, truth be told, I’m not used to it either. It’s going to take some adjustment.”

  “You think that’s it?”

  He was quiet for a few seconds, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Give it time. We’ll sort it out. Cathy reminded me today that, no matter what, she’s still my mom. She still loves me, and I still love her. So we’ll get through this, one way or another.”

  Joey nodded. What else could she do? “Speaking of Cathy, how’d your meeting go?”

  Chris smiled again, and this time the tension melted from his face. “Pretty great, actually. She finally got a lead on another astral walker. Maybe.”

  “Really? That’s great!”

  He leaned over and grabbed another journal from the desk and offered it to her. “It’s in Russian. I’m hoping Mom might be willing to translate.”

  Joey took the journal and flipped through it, but of course she couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “I’m sure she will. Maybe there’s something in here that will help you.”

  “That’s not all, either. Cathy and Dean had a breakthrough on the anti-possession charm. She sent me home with a prototype.”

  Joey looked up, the journal all but forgotten in her hands in the face of this revelation. “Really? Did it work?”

  His smile twitched into a grin. “It worked. Hell, it didn’t just stop Roger from possessing someone—it ejected him from someone he was already inside.”

  “No shit? Wow, that’s some good mojo.” She paused, frowning as a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Wait, who was he possessing? Is he behaving himself?”

  “Don’t panic. Jess volunteered.”

  “She did, eh?”

  “Eagerly.”

  Suspicion flared, and her shoulders tensed. Jessica had been in cahoots with Eric, the Granite Falls pack’s previous Alpha, for the better part of a decade before Chris came along. Joey still wasn’t convinced that Jessica had been entirely ignorant of what he’d really been up to. “Awfully compliant of her,” she said mildly.

  “She’s trying to prove herself. To make amends,” Chris said, rubbing her back lightly.

  Joey snorted. “She’s trying to convince you to make her your second.”

  “She knows better.”

  “You should’ve banished her and Eric both.”

  He sighed. “Let it go, sweetheart. Please.”

  Joey gritted her teeth and swallowed a retort. At the end of the day, it was Chris’s pack—not hers. This whole “being part of two different packs” thing really sucked. Chris still hadn’t named a second, and Joey suspected he was waiting for her to make up her mind if she would be joining him or not. Honestly, she was of two minds about it. On the one hand, she really wanted to be with him. On the other, she had responsibilities in her own pack that she couldn’t walk away from. To top it all off, she’d make a shitty second. Her dominance drive was too high; she had enough trouble dealing with her mother most days.

  What did that mean for the future of her and Chris? She didn’t know, and for now, she elected not to dwell on it. Instead, she stroked his cheek and gazed into his eyes.

  “I love you,” she said.

  He smiled and lifted his chin to kiss the tip of her nose. “I love you too. Want to go upstairs and fool around?” His eyes twinkled mischievously.

  Joey laughed and pressed her lips to his. She meant it to be quick, but he caught the back of her head with one hand and deepened it, his tongue tracing her lower lip until she parted her lips for him. Warmth spooled within her and she melted into the kiss, relishing the play of lips and tongues until a distant cheer and groan drifting down the hallway from the living room reminded her the door was still open. She broke the kiss and slid from his lap to stand, catching sight of a roll of bills on his desk in the process.

  She picked up the wad of cash and arched a brow. “You have a side business I should know about?”

  Chris laughed and stood. “Lucy and Adam’s contribution to the remodeling.” He plucked the cash from her hand and took it over to the closet where the safe he’d bought for the house was tucked away.

  Joey hung back and leaned against the table, admiring the view as he bent to enter the code.

  “You know Lucy’s an alpha, right?” Joey asked, pitching her voice low enough that he’d hear but it wouldn’t carry down the hall.

  “I have my suspicions. What makes you think so?” Chris said.

  “Well, have you ever seen her dance?”

  Chris straightened from stashing the cash and came toward her with a smirk. “Is that a trick question?” Lucy was an exotic dancer. “Wait, have you?”

  Joey met him halfway across the room, slipping her hand in his. “No, and yes. Respectively.”

  Chris smiled. “That’s kind of hot.”

  “Down, tiger. But she did offer me a lesson.”

  “Do I need to have a pole installed in our room? Because I can. I’m remodeling, you know.”

  Joey smirked, though her heart did a little flip-flop. She liked the sound of that. Our room. It rolled so easily off his tongue. “You’re terrible.”

  “You like it.”

  She couldn’t deny it.

  It wasn’t until much later, when they lay together amidst tangled sheets, that Joey remembered to ask him about the call she’d missed hours ago.

  “Oh, right. Shit.” Chris turned toward her, propping himself up on an elbow. “Emma called.”

  Joey blinked and dragged her eyes up from his muscular torso. “It’s not Saturday already, is it?”

  “No.” He chuckled. “It was strange, and not just because of the timing. She was in a rush, but I think something happened. She said he found her, and thought we were in danger.”

  A chill ran down Joey’s spine, interrupting her postcoital bliss. “What? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”r />
  “Sorry, I guess I forgot in the excitement of the journals and all. But you know how she is. It could be pure paranoia.”

  Joey chewed the inside of her lip and looked up at the ceiling. “Could be,” she said, but wasn’t entirely convinced. Her eyes tracked back to Chris. “That’s all she said?”

  “She said we should leave town. That was it. I tried to press her for more, but she had to go. Like I said, she was in a rush.”

  “Em does have a pretty strong flight instinct,” Joey murmured, mostly to herself.

  “Yeah. I dunno, it could be nothing. But it wouldn’t hurt to be extra vigilant, just in case.”

  Joey nodded, no more inclined to skip town than he was. They both had too many responsibilities. “I’ll talk to Sam tomorrow about stepping up the investigation. We’ve been gathering information, but there hasn’t been any particular urgency, you know?”

  “Yeah.” Chris leaned down and kissed her, then settled beside her with an arm draped across her stomach. She stroked his forearm absently, though her thoughts were far away. His breathing grew deep and even as he drifted off to sleep, and she turned her head to look over at him in the darkness. Clearly, he wasn’t worried about Emma’s warning, but Joey wasn’t quite ready to dismiss it out of hand.

  Emma’s old coven had taken Chris from her once. There was no way in hell she was going to let them do it again.

  Chris woke to sunlight slanting in through the ancient wooden blinds. He was alone, but Joey’s scent still lingered on the sheets. Turning his face into the pillow, he breathed deeply and tried to banish the sense of unease that always plagued him on mornings like these. Joey was an early riser. She always had been. There was no real reason to think that, after six weeks, she’d suddenly change her mind and push him away again. Yet it was times like this, with drowsiness still clinging to the edges of his consciousness like spider silk, when doubt reared its ugly head.

  Drip.

  The sound brought Chris’s head up, and he frowned as he tried to pinpoint its source. Sitting up, he looked around the room. It was no master suite—he hadn’t decided yet what he wanted to do with his predecessor’s man cave—but it was spacious enough for him and didn’t come with any particular baggage. Joey had tidied up before she left; the trail of clothing that’d been left from the door to the bed the previous night was gone, probably relocated to the hamper by the door. He hadn’t figured out who was sneaking in to fetch his dirty laundry when he was out of the house. He’d come home once a week to find his clothes folded on his bed, and no one had owned up to it yet. He suspected it was Jessica. At least she hadn’t gone so far as to put the folded laundry away.