The Werewolf Wears Prada (Entangled Covet) (San Francisco Wolf Pack)

by Kristin Miller

  Dean’s Drunken Binge. Arrested Records Documented.

  “What’s the—” Melina appeared beside him. He hadn’t even heard her approach. “Is that…you?”

  He nodded, the blood draining from his face.

  “You were arrested?” she screeched. “When?”

  “The night you were taken.” His voice sounded rough, even to his ears. “I wasn’t arrested. I was detained for questioning. That’s why it took me so long to get to you.”

  Smacking her forehead, she bent beside him to get a better look at the covers. “They look bad and not too far-fetched, damn it. What where you doing?”

  He paced around the couch centered in her living room. “When I left you at the pier, it was because I picked up the scent of a rogue in the parking garage. I shifted once I was inside, we fought, and he got away.” Vengeance scorched through him, even now, days later. “I tried to get back to you, but I’d ripped through my clothes. One of the casualties of shifting, I’m afraid.”

  “Whoa, whoa, hold the phone. I’ll ruin my clothes?” Her eyes went wide. “You didn’t say anything about tearing through my clothes. No way. Nuh-uh. I want off this ride.”

  “You can wear clothes from Salvation Army, if you don’t want to shred anything you have hanging up in there.”

  “Salvation…Army?”

  “Believe me, Melina, your clothes situation is the least of our worries.”

  “You’re right.” But her tone didn’t show it. “We’ve got a bigger problem here.”

  He could feel the honor of becoming Alpha slipping right through his fingers. His palms sweat. “I ripped through my clothes, and needed something to cover me. I tried to take the blanket off the homeless guy, which as it turns out, wasn’t a blanket at all.”

  “Disaster.” She closed down that email and opened another. “Wonder how much the people made from selling those pictures to the tabloids.”

  “Believe me, you don’t want to know. It’ll make you sick.”

  “I’m already there.”

  As she spun to face him, dark shadows shifted in her honey-brown eyes. “The magazines really are slanted, aren’t they?”

  “Every single one.” He picked up the bags she’d dropped by the door. “Well, I do like to go out and have a couple drinks every now and again, but I’m usually arriving late to the bars, so I’ve only had a drink before closing.”

  “What about the fights?”

  “I’m usually breaking it up, or defending a fool who couldn’t stand up for himself.”

  “The women?”

  “They were placeholders for you.”

  She sauntered closer. And then she threw her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth to his.

  “Somehow I knew it. I really did,” she said, as their lips parted. “I guess I just needed to hear you say it for it to be true. I’m going to write such a damned good article, everyone’s going to forget about the tainted Hayden Dean they thought they knew before. And then you’re going to get the promotion you’re after.”

  He breathed hard, the taste of her lingering on his lips. “It’s not a promotion, Melina. The governing council of the pack believes my image could taint the whole pack. They don’t think I can be trusted because I don’t take pack business seriously.” His heart pounded out of his chest and his head spun. “Everything that’s happened over the last year proves how selfish I am at the core—at least in their eyes. My fall from grace can easily be documented in the trail of magazine garbage.”

  She shot him an alarmed glare, her eyebrows drawing together. “You’re worthy of this, Hayden. Turned wolf or born. Adopted or birthed.” She brushed her hand over the stubble of his cheek. “You’re Angus Dean’s son. He chose you because he loved you, because he believed you were worthy to replace him. Now you only have to believe it yourself.”

  Gazing into her eyes, it was easy to believe her. He wanted to, but the damn ache in his chest had burned into a gaping hole of insignificance.

  His phone buzzed from his pocket. Digging it out, Hayden swiped his finger over the screen and read the text from Gabriel:

  Council voted against sending guards to Bernal Heights. WTF happened with picture in mag this a.m.? Council is pissed.

  White hot pulses of fury surged through him. An innocent woman was kidnapped in the middle of the Embarcadero, attacked, and turned into a werewolf, and the city’s most trusted council voted not to lift a damn finger?

  What the hell was going on?

  The world had flipped on its head, and his father was probably rolling in his grave. They’d made it their life’s mission to protect the innocent and follow a set of rules that spoke of honor and courage.

  This was horseshit.

  “Time to go,” he said, striding to the door.

  “What is it?”

  “I need to meet with the council.” Good thing the Bugatti could tear through the miles. “Grab what you can. You’re coming with me.”

  She dashed to her computer and tucked it under her arm. “This is all I really need. I have an idea on that trail of articles you mentioned. All I need is Wi-Fi and a couple hours with my computer.”

  On their way out the door, Melina said, “But first, do you mind dropping me off at Celeb Crush’s office? Sylvia emailed back, just as I thought. She wants to meet this morning.”

  “Not happening,” he bit out.

  He wasn’t letting her out of his sight.

  “I think I can clean up your image so that this whole mess is behind you.” She locked the door behind her. “But I need to meet with her first.”

  Something was brewing in that gorgeous head of hers.

  “Okay,” he conceded. “But tell her to meet you in my office.”

  “Done.” She kissed him on the cheek before stomping down the stairs to the foyer. “Everything’s going to be fine, Hayden. You’ll see.”

  He wanted to believe her. He really did.

  But he was about to storm into Dean, Hyde, & Hammer and demand the council revote to go after the rogues. His anger wasn’t going to be received well.

  And he wasn’t backing down until they listened.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  While Hayden went to talk with the council, Melina waited for Sylvia on the fifteenth floor of Dean, Hyde, & Hammer. Hayden had left Gabriel in the office to watch over her, to make sure no one from the pack came up unexpectedly. He’d sprawled on the leather couch near the big screen—Cardinals were playing and down by three—leaving Melina all alone in Hayden’s office.

  With thirty minutes to go until Sylvia arrived to talk about the new direction for the article, Melina pulled up the rolling chair behind Hayden’s desk and started typing the thoughts on her mind.

  She’d never written anything so fast in all her life. The words were at her fingertips as they streamed through her head. She breathed deep, tweaking words to make them fit, streamlining paragraphs that slowed the pace.

  As she typed, she realized she’d been wrong to insist on those stupid image-improving phases. She’d told him to ditch his car (the one that’d saved her life as it sped away from the rogues), suggested that he change his attire (the clothes that accented the muscles her fingers loved to shadow so much), and compromise at work (with an unreasonable council that didn’t support him).

  He never had to change a thing about himself.

  It was the perceptions of the outside world that had to change.

  She had to change.

  As she finished typing, tears welled in her eyes and her throat constricted.

  Hayden wasn’t perfect, but he was a good man. Decent and kind. People needed to see him for what he was.

  Logging on to Dean, Hyde, & Hammer’s Wi-Fi, Melina cued up Google and did a generic search for Hayden Dean. She scanned images and web hits, celebrity magazines and articles in the San Francisco Chronicle.

  Just as she suspected, there was a definite flip in the paradigm when it came to Hayden Dean, right around a year ago. Abou
t the time Angus died, Melina thought. Before that, Hayden was a playboy, but besides the broken hearts, no one was seriously hurt. No fighting. No trashing hotel rooms. No stealing pants from bums and winding up in the clink.

  “Knock, knock,” Sylvia said from the doorway.

  “I didn’t hear the elevator come up,” Melina said, suddenly uncomfortable to be sitting behind Hayden’s desk. “Please, come in.”

  Over Sylvia’s shoulder, Gabriel postured, and then hitched his chin at her back. Melina couldn’t hear what he’d said, but something inside her hummed.

  Everything okay?

  It felt like a radio frequency in her head that was fuzzy and incomprehensible, that suddenly dialed in and became clear. When she’d watched Hayden and Gabriel interact at the aquarium benefit, they’d stared and nodded, and she remembered thinking they were somehow communicating without saying a word.

  Maybe that’s how werewolves in the pack spoke to one another…

  “Yeah,” she said aloud. “We’re good.”

  “I know we are.” Sylvia stared. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

  Nerves rattled in Melina’s stomach. “I’m sorry.” If she wasn’t careful, she’d start to sound like a crazy person, hearing questions in her head and answering them aloud. As if things weren’t already confusing. “I’ve been working on this month’s column. It’s nearly finished, and I think you’re going to be pleasantly surprised at the direction.”

  Taking the seat in front of Hayden’s desk, Sylvia pushed her thick-framed glasses up the tip of her nose and stared down at her. “What direction do you mean?”

  Excitement flaring through her, Melina leaned over the desk and pressed her fingers together. “If I simply write the article as you asked, going over all of Hayden’s good points and how he’s changed this month, or how I’ve seen him change, why would anyone believe it? What reason would they have to believe this article over the hundreds of others that have painted him in such poor light?”

  Sylvia stared. Stoic. Unreadable.

  “I have to prove that the others were off-base,” she went on. “By proving that there were stories behind the pictures and horrific headlines. Take this morning’s headlines, for example.”

  “That’s precisely the reason I wanted to talk to you.” Sylvia swiped her tongue over her caked-red lips. “I’ve received direct word from a managing editor at Eclipse that they’d like you to take your article down a different avenue. And if you can keep the new order quiet, you’re in at Eclipse. The job is yours.”

  Her spirit soared. “Really?”

  “Really.” Sylvia nodded. “They’re ready to give you the opportunity of a lifetime. Double your annual Celeb Crush salary. Office with a view. Assistant already on staff. Unlimited off-the-runway picks as they come into the office and—”

  “Did you say…” Her heart stuttered. “…unlimited off-the-runway picks?”

  Sylvia smiled tightly. “Told you it was the opportunity of a lifetime. Don’t exactly know why they’re handing this offer to you, but there you have it.” She smacked her lips together and folded her hands in her lap. Her Jackie-O suit was pink and perfectly tailored, her feet crossed in front of her. She’d always been a vision of grace, someone Melina had always looked up to. But there was something off. A heady scent that burned her nose. “There’s another condition.”

  “Anything,” Melina said.

  “The article has to be written by tomorrow evening.”

  “Done.” Anxiety ratcheted through her arms as her fingers twitched with the urge to type. “What does the editor need?”

  “Do we have your word that you will keep this quiet?” Sylvia pierced her lips and sat ram-rod straight. “I was told to get a verbal guarantee.”

  Melina nodded. “I will.”

  “You’re going to take the juiciest dirt you have on Hayden Dean, and expose it. You’re to make sure he’s taken out of the limelight all together. I’ve been instructed he’s harboring an unnatural secret dark enough to do it.” Sylvia glared over the rim of her glasses. “The managing editor who emailed me says you know what that is.”

  Melina could think of one big “unnatural” secret in particular. It’d make an unbelievable, jaw-dropping headline: A Werewolf Among Us.

  Two weeks ago, Melina would’ve jumped at the chance to expose Hayden. She would’ve done damn near anything to get the job.

  But now, something didn’t sit right.

  “I don’t know,” Melina said, scratching her head, trying to make sense of it all. “Who’s the managing editor?”

  Sylvia stared, her expression unreadable.

  “Okay,” Melina said. “Let me think about it for the day.”

  Think of a way out of it was more likely.

  “I don’t think you understand.” Sylvia stood abruptly, jerking her bag over her shoulder. “The managing editors at Eclipse don’t request, they command. When they give me an order that trickles to you, you make it happen or you become a ghost who used to work for my company.”

  Melina’s mouth fell as confusion set in. From promotion to the threat of unemployment in two seconds flat. The back and forth gave her whiplash.

  “I’m going to give you one piece of advice, Ms. Rae,” Sylvia said, turning to leave. “Write the article the way they want it, or kiss your dreams goodbye. If you don’t do this, you’ll never work for another fashion magazine in the industry, Celeb Crush included.”

  The situation was black and white: expose Hayden the way she’d planned to anyway, or say farewell to her dream job.

  “Okay,” Melina said, her voice shaking. “I’ll do it.”

  She had to find a way out. Had to.

  There was no way she could turn on Hayden now.

  “Good girl. You’ll go far in this business.” Sylvia smiled, slow and wicked. “You stick to following orders this way, and you’ll get to the top the way I did.”

  As Sylvia left the office, still a vision of poise and grace, Melina realized the top wasn’t sunshine and rainbows. It may’ve included endless supplies of money and all the Prada she could get her hands on, but the top wasn’t easier with less stress.

  The top sucked major ass.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Hayden burst through the doors to the conference room, garnering quizzical looks from Reagan, White, Mad Dog, and Lydia. They sat around an oblong table, piles of papers, maps, and magazines in front of them.

  “Hayden,” White said, rolling back from the table. “What’s going on?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?” Hayden stared right into Lydia’s beady black eyes. “I want to know how the council will explain its non-action in the crimes against an innocent non-shifter.”

  Lydia spread her arms to the chairs nearest him. “Why don’t you sit, Hayden?”

  Reagan and Mad Dog exchanged quiet words, though Hayden’s heartbeat was thumping too loud through his ears for him to make them out. As far as Hayden was concerned, Reagan was loyal to Lydia, and White was loyal to him. Mad Dog was the wild card, the balance in the system who stood for what was right rather than holding loyalty to any one person. From the closeness between him and Reagan, it looked as if the tables had turned…out of Hayden’s favor.

  “We’d like answers as well,” Lydia said, tossing a magazine across the table. It slid and spun, coming to a stop facing him. The headlines weren’t good. He didn’t have to see any more than the covers to know he’d sailed up Shit Creek. “We have reason to believe you shifted in public, and that’s the reason you were left nude on the street.”

  “Is that true?” Mad Dog asked flatly.

  Now was time for honesty. What good would it do to sugar coat things at this point? They were running the show behind his back, without his involvement. He would never lead the pack, he’d never rule.

  “I was eating dinner at Pier 39 when I picked up the scent of a wolf in the parking garage across the street. I took off after him, shifted, and demanded answers. I was carefu
l. No one saw me in wolf form.” Hayden lifted his chin in defiance, ready to take whatever punishment they handed him. “He asked me to call him Rogue. He was part of the group that kidnapped Melina and—”

  “You mean the non-shifter,” Reagan corrected.

  Way to rob her of her importance.

  “No, I mean Melina.” His heart beat true. “She’s one of us now.”

  As the men mumbled their dissension to one another. Hayden postured, staring straight through Lydia. She was the only member of the council sitting silent. The only one who didn’t seem surprised by the news.

  “We hadn’t heard about her transition,” Mad Dog said, spinning toward Hayden. “We believed she escaped, you found her, and took her somewhere safe to recover.”

  Wonder who tipped them off to that much…

  Gabriel, most likely.

  “I helped her understand our society, the way it works, and its essential secrecy. I haven’t talked to her about being inducted into the pack. I thought I’d do that during the next full moon.” Hayden went palms down on the table. “But while I was away this weekend cleaning up the mess, this council voted to sit on their hands and do nothing. The rogues are only getting stronger, and if we sit idle much longer, we’ll have to contend with another pack in our city. No one at this table wants that kind of conflict.”

  “That’s not what we want,” Mad Dog said, his baritone resonating through the room. “But we still don’t know where to find Asher. If we go after the rogues, it’ll be like killing ants. We need the queen, or the king, as it were, to end the attacks.”

  “If you have some sort of intelligence revealing where to find Asher,” Reagan finished, “by all means, share what you know. Otherwise, more bloodshed is not the answer.”

  So that’s why they’d voted not to move the guards. They didn’t want to enter the ring until Asher stepped in, ready to fight.

  “We can start by questioning the wolf at Howlands.” Hayden glared at each one of them in turn. “See if he can identify his attacker. Asher took responsibility for the attack soon after it happened. He could’ve been there.”