by Lori Drake
Chris shook his head. “It’s not your territory anymore.” He glanced at Joey. She met his eyes and nodded. “It’s mine.”
Eric howled in rage. “I’ll kill you, Martin! Just like I did your parents!”
Chris blinked slowly as the assembled wolves gave a collective gasp. He took a step forward. “What did you say?”
“You heard me! Poor little Chris, orphaned at the age of two. You were a thorn in my side from the day you were born. I should’ve smothered you in your sleep before that uptight bitch showed up and carried you off.”
Chris’s mind reeled. Could it be true? Was it possible that his birth parents’ boating accident wasn’t an accident at all? Dumbfounded, all he could do was stare as the implications of that hit home. He glanced at Itsuo, finding the oft-stoic wolf’s eyes smoldering with barely contained rage.
“How could you do that?” Chris asked Eric. “He took you in. He treated you like a son. Why would you betray him like that? Why would you twist his legacy into something so—so wrong?”
Eric barked a humorless laugh. “Why do you think, you simple fuck? Because of you. As soon as you came along, it was like I didn’t exist anymore. You’re right, he was like a father to me, only better, because he didn’t beat the shit out of me the way my pops did. You took that from me, so I took him from you. I took everything from you, you pathetic piece of shit!”
His tirade was interrupted by Itsuo’s fist. Eric’s head snapped to one side, and finally he was silent.
“If you do not wish his blood on your hands, Christopher-san, I will carry out your sentence. With pleasure.” Itsuo’s eyes glittered with moisture. Chris knew how much Henry Martin had meant to Itsuo, and how much this revelation must’ve hurt him. It’d happened right under his nose.
“No,” Chris said, the word spoken with more instinct, more gut reaction, than intent. But that one word was enough to stay Itsuo’s hand.
“Are you sure?” Jessica asked. “At this point, I don’t think anyone would blame you. Much less miss him.”
“Not even you?” Chris met her eyes, but she quickly looked away.
“It’s… complicated.”
Chris knew a few things about complicated. All of this could end, right now. All he had to do was say the word. He wouldn’t even have to do the deed himself. Eric wouldn’t hesitate, if the roles were reversed. Maybe that, in and of itself, was what held him back. He wasn’t Eric, would never become Eric.
“Killing him won’t undo what he did,” Chris said eventually. “It might feel like justice, but it’s not. It’s just revenge.”
The look on Itsuo’s face said he begged to differ, but he remained silent. Chris felt all of their eyes on him. Joey squeezed his hand, quietly supportive.
Chris inhaled and squared his shoulders, ignoring the painful protest of his ribs. “Eric Jensen, you are exiled from my territory. Leave this city and never return.”
Eric just moaned. Itsuo must’ve hit him pretty hard. He and Jessica released Eric and stepped back. Eric struggled up into a sitting position, dazed but conscious. “You’ll regret this. This isn’t over, Martin!”
Chris turned and walked away. His pack, new and old, went with him.
22
Joey couldn’t remember feeling so tired in all her life. She fell face-first onto the bed, biting back a groan as her leg protested the movement. Beside her, Chris settled gingerly on the edge of the bed and eased himself to lie down. Joey turned onto her side and pulled the extra blanket up from the foot of the bed. She draped it over them, then curled up against his side and pillowed her head on his shoulder. She didn’t even have the strength left to undress. Chris seemed to be in the same position. He curled an arm around her and gathered her against his side, breathing a quiet sigh.
Morning sunlight peeked around the edges of the room’s musty old curtains. Joey closed her eyes to block it out, expecting sleep to claim her in short order, but it remained elusive.
“Do you think he’ll come back?” she murmured, breathing in Chris’s familiar scent and taking comfort in the warmth of his body beside hers. One of his first acts as man of the house had been to crank up the thermostat. Everyone approved, but it’d take time to warm up the big old house.
“Eric?” Chris asked, in a tired murmur. “Or Roger?”
“Either. Both.”
“Dunno.” He was quiet for a moment. “Would you have really let that girl bleed out if Roger hadn’t agreed to your bargain?”
“No.” Joey didn’t have to think about it. It had been a risky bluff, but she’d made it anyway. No regrets. “I just hope he keeps his word if she doesn’t make it.”
“Ben seemed confident she’d be okay. She made it to the hospital, I’m sure they took care of her.”
“I hope so,” Joey said, and she truly did. The girl was distraught, and had probably been goaded into doing what she did by her dead father’s spirit. Those were some extenuating circumstances Joey was willing to excuse. She just hoped the girl didn’t run her mouth off to the police. Or, if she did, that she ended up on some sort of psychiatric hold. They didn’t need the cops sniffing around. There was no telling what they might find if they searched the woods at the edge of the lake.
Quiet settled between them, until Joey was again compelled to break it. “You know what this means, right?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re their Alpha now.” She traced an idle circle on the center of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt.
“I know.”
“You can’t be in two packs at once…”
He sighed. “I know.” His fingers caught hers, and he brought them to his lips. “We’ll figure it out. Can we just get some sleep?” Those lips brushed the palm of her hand, and she shivered despite her tiredness.
“Only if you quit doing that,” she mumbled.
He chuckled softly and carefully turned onto his side, facing her. A soft hiss escaped him as he jostled something that wasn’t ready to be jostled.
“Careful.” She slid her arm around him and snuggled closer, resting her forehead against his.
“Say it again.”
Joey made a noise and opened her eyes, looking into his from a decidedly short distance. She could lose herself in those eyes, and for a moment, she did.
“What you said in the woods, when you thought I was going to die.” He smiled, coiling a lock of her long red hair around a finger.
“At the rate you’re going, you’re not out of the woods yet. Uh, figuratively speaking. You need to rest.”
He smirked and lifted his chin. She thought he was going to kiss her and let her eyes drift closed, but he kissed the tip of her nose instead. “Come on, say it again.”
The panic, the fear that had driven her away from him in the first place was still there, lingering beneath the surface. It was different now that she realized the only thing that scared her more than loving him was losing him. Death would come for them one day, as inescapable as the tide, but loving him, being with him, was something she could control.
Joey opened her eyes and met his clear blue gaze in the morning light. “I love you.”
He smiled that boyish smile she knew so well and closed his eyes, appearing more at peace in that moment than she’d seen him in months.
“You’re really going to leave me hanging?” She asked, when he didn’t say anything in return.
His smile twitched into a grin. “Didn’t think I’d let you off the hook that easily, did you?”
Joey groaned, but kissed him anyway. She didn’t need to hear it to know it.
Epilogue
Smoke poured out from under the hood of the aging Camaro as Eric pulled over to the side of the remote, largely deserted highway.
Perfect. Just perfect.
He popped the hood and slammed the door shut on his way to the front of the car. The hood was so hot that he nearly burned his hands opening it. He half expected to find flames beneath it, but no, just smoke
. Lots of smoke, and the acrid aromas of burned engine oil and superheated metal. There was nothing to be done until the engine cooled. Even then, the odds weren’t in his favor.
He fished his phone out of his pocket. The words “No Service” had never been less welcome. His fingers tightened on the electronic device until its aluminum housing creaked ominously.
“Fuck!” He shouted at the gray sky and kicked the front bumper once, twice. Hard enough to leave dents in the chrome and probably on the steel toe of his boot, too. The only answer was a distant bird call and the whispering wind.
He stepped back, looked up and down the expanse of empty highway, and pulled off his skull cap to rub his stubbly head.
Now what?
He wasn’t entirely sure where he was, much less where he was going. When he’d gotten in the car, all he wanted to do was drive until his blood stopped boiling. Until he could think. Plan. That had been hours ago. His anger hadn’t faded in that time. No, it’d merely subsided from a raging boil to a bubbling simmer.
They’d condemned him, thought they were better off without him. They were wrong. They’d see. He’d make them see, show them who the better man was. Certainly not that worthless fuck they thought walked on water. This wasn’t over. If anger could’ve kept him warm on the side of the road that cold winter’s day, he would’ve been toasty. As it was, he buttoned up his coat and put his hat back on before climbing back into the Camaro to wait it out.
Another hour and four cigarettes later, he stood on the side of the road with his hands in his pockets until a car approached, at which point he hoisted a thumb in hopes of getting someone to pull over. The first four cars blew right past him without even slowing down. He must’ve looked a sight with his two fading black eyes and broken nose. Still, their lack of charity galled him. It galled him even more to need it, and that was just another log on the fire.
When the fifth car slowed, hope flared inside him. As the aging station wagon rolled past, its driver peered out the passenger window. Eric waved a hand and smiled in a desperate bid to look friendly and in need of assistance. The station wagon kept going for a good twenty yards before its brake lights lit up and it veered off onto the shoulder.
He jogged toward it, approaching the passenger side window. The window lowered with a mechanical whine, stopping about halfway down.
“Car trouble?” the stranger asked.
“Yeah, thanks for stopping. I’ve been stranded for hours, and my cell has no service out here. How’s yours? Could I make a call?”
The man checked his phone and shook his head. “Sorry, none for me either. I can give you a lift to the next town, though.”
Relief flooded Eric. “That’d be great. Thank you so much.” He climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door, reveling in the heat as the car rolled forward and pulled back onto the road.
“You look like you’ve had a rough week,” the driver remarked.
“You don’t know the half of it, buddy.” Eric hoped his tone discouraged further questions.
“Hmm.” The driver was quiet for a few moments, then glanced over at him again. “I’m Paul.”
“Eric.”
They shook hands in that awkward manner of people sitting side by side.
“Where were you headed?” Paul asked.
“Anywhere but here, honestly. You?”
Paul smiled. “Nevada. Eastgate, Nevada.”
Chris and Joey’s story continues in…
Grave Threat
Grant Wolves Book 3
loridrakeauthor.com/gw3
Acknowledgements
This book would not be what it is without the love and support of innumerable family, friends, and readers. I’d like to give special thanks to Amy McKenna, who has been with me through the best and worst of this project. Amy is the best critique partner a girl could ask for. (And probably a better one than I deserve.) Another huge thank you goes out to Lisa L. Anderson, whose expertise in story structure helped me over more than a few obstacles. I’d also like to thank my editor, Arran McNicol, who kept this book from being a lot more frown-y, and my proofreader, Steve Statham, whose eagle eyes never cease to amaze/shame me. My thanks would not be complete without also giving a shoutout to the lovely Kate Baray, who has been a wonderful mentor and friend on my publishing journey.
Finally, I’d like to thank you, dear reader. These people made this book possible. You’ll motivate me to write the next one.
About the Author
Disenchanted with her mundane human existence, Lori loves spinning tales of magic and creatures of myth & legend existing in the modern world. When not indulging in these flights of fancy, she enjoys cooking, crafting, gaming, and (of course) reading. She’s also a bit of a weather geek and would like to go storm chasing one day.
Lori lives in Austin, Texas with her husband and two adorable kitties that don’t understand why mommy doesn’t like them climbing on her laptop and batting at the screen.
The kitties, that is. It’d be really strange if her husband did that.
www.loridrakeauthor.com
[email protected]
Also by Lori Drake
Grant Wolves Series
Early Grave
Shallow Grave
Grave Threat
