by Marilu Mann
Slade found a public pool and watched the people there for a few minutes. He moved slowly along the fence line until he found what he was looking for. As soon as he was unobserved, Slade snaked his arm under the fence and pulled a pair of flip-flops toward him.
A few minutes later, he entered First State Bank. The teller looked aghast when he asked to see the bank manager, but became much more amenable when she pulled up his account information. Within a few moments, Slade found himself seated across from a fat guy in a suit who could have been a suit in any bank, in any city, anywhere.
Slade had set up several accounts over the years that could only be accessed with certain codes. He’d never told anyone about these accounts. Tonio said, “You never, ever broadcast the fact that you’re always ready to run, kid.”
An hour later, he left the bank with a substantial amount of cash. He’d just laughed when the bank manager suggested that he open a checking account with the bank since it wasn’t safe for anyone to carry that much cash around. Suits—as predictable as Joie wanting to help any hurt animal. He flinched.
No need to think about her. That attraction had to be an aberration. She was human and humans were not to be trusted. Ever. His uncle had taught him that lesson a long time ago. With his fists.
Pausing, he looked around. His nose caught a scent of something good, so he followed it. He found a place that said it had “world-famous andouille”. Fond of the spicy sausage, Slade bought several pieces and ate the hot, smoked meat quickly as he made his way to a local discount store.
Licking his fingers clean, he went inside where he selected socks and, since he couldn’t find boots to his taste, a pair of tennis shoes. He also grabbed a few necessary items like a hunting knife, a toothbrush, toothpaste, sunglasses, a hairbrush and some elastic bands for his hair.
He splurged on a nice backpack. Never did like buying cheap ones that wore out in a few months. And he planned to do some hard traveling, so he needed something that would keep up with him. He rounded his shopping off with two extra pair of jeans and a few more t-shirts. There. That ought to be enough for now.
He needed to lie low for a few days. Wait to see if anyone still looked for him. Wouldn’t do any good to take off in the wrong direction.
He thought about Joie and the old woman, then shook his head. He couldn’t go back to them. He didn’t want to put them in any danger after they’d tried to help him. Besides, if he went back there, he knew Joie would distract him. The fact that she was human only added to his resolve to stay away from her.
Slade walked through the parking lot. The asphalt burned hot through his shoes. Again he wished he had found boots he liked. Melted tennis shoes irritated him. They weren’t sticking yet, but he knew it wouldn’t be long. A familiar sound interrupted his mental bitching.
Swiveling his head to the right, he watched a familiar old car turn into the lot. He leaned against the side of the building as the car pulled into a parking spot. The old woman got out of her car and made her way slowly to the front door. She had to be in her eighties. Suddenly she stopped and turned to stare right at him. Slade grinned at her, then pulled his sunglasses into place. How the old witch knew he was there, he didn’t know.
She shook her head at him before going into the store. Slade stood there for a few more minutes. His trouble sense pinged on the alert. Something was about to happen here, he could smell it. It didn’t have anything to do with him, other than the fact that he stood there.
He glanced around and spotted the source of his unease. Two punks, probably in their early twenties, watched people entering and leaving the store.
Slade kept his eyes on them as they watched the entrance to the store. When the old woman came out of the store, laden down with two bags and her huge purse, the two punks went for her. But Slade covered the distance between them to reach her side just as they did. He caught her against his chest before she hit the pavement.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, cher. I am.”
Slade dropped his backpack and took off after her assailants. Growling low in his throat, he caught up with them at the edge of the parking lot. One punk turned on him with a switchblade.
“Whaddya think you’re gonna do with that, kid?” Slade laughed.
“You son of a…”
Slade felt the skin on his upper arm split as the kid got in a lucky swing. He grabbed the punk by the hand, wrenching the knife loose.
“That was stupid. Now you’ve pissed me off.” The crunch of weak human bones snapping under his palm sent a rush through him. But he realized that the other idiot had taken off when his friend started to scream.
So rather than enjoy pounding the first one into the ground, Slade pulled him closer and kneed him in the balls. The sobbing as the boy dropped to the pavement sounded like a symphony to his ears. Then he went after punk number two.
The second one didn’t even put up a fight. Two punches to the face dropped the little bastard in his tracks. Slade heard sirens and looked up to see a crowd gathering. He dragged the unconscious second punk over to the first one, dropping him beside his crying buddy who still held his balls with his good hand.
Slade leaned over to catch the conscious punk’s chin in his hand. The kid looked up at him, tears and snot mingling on his face. Slade let his eyes glow. His fingers tightened as the youth tried to pull away in terror.
“You ever touch that old woman again and I’ll find you. I’ll find you and I’ll do more than knee you in the balls. You got me?”
The kid nodded, even as he continued to cry. Slade backed up as the police car pulled closer. He moved quickly through the crowd, pulling his hair out of the ponytail and yanking the bloodstained t-shirt off. Glancing over his shoulder, he tossed the shirt into the bushes then slowed to a stroll.
He wanted his backpack and he wanted to get out of here. He didn’t have time to do any more shopping and he’d put most of his money in the backpack. But first, he needed to make sure the old woman hadn’t come to any harm.
She stood talking to a cop as he approached. “Non, cher, I don’t know who that man was. How’s your mama and them, by and by?”
Slade cocked his head to listen to her as she deflected the cop from questioning her about him to chatting about his family.
“Oh, you know, Tante Kay, Mama’s back’s been hurting her something fierce. She wanted to come see you, but that sister of mine got all these notions in her head about how traiteurs are evil. Non, non! I know you’re not. But Mama, she listens to Valerie.” The young man hung his head so he didn’t have to look her in the eye.
Slade laughed to himself. Apparently the old woman made a habit out of making grown men feel like whipped pups. He thought back to their encounter. Yeah, he’d have to give her credit on that one. She knew what she did.
“Well, don’t you worry none, Bobby. I’ll just stop by for a spell tomorrow or the next day. Just so happens, I carry things with me that might help her out. But I have to get back now. Joie Sue might be getting worried, you know? Tell your wife hello and kiss those sweet babies for me.”
Watching her hug the cop goodbye, Slade couldn’t believe how easily she’d manipulated the whole conversation. He waited for her to point him out to the cop, but she never raised a hand in his direction. He wondered why.
His personal experience taught him that a human always took the first opportunity to hurt his kind. The first hand to be raised would be human. The first foot aimed at his ribs would be human. The first cruel word against him would be human.
She, however, had done everything but stand in front of him to protect him. She had messed with his worldview in that moment. It was food for thought, but it left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. He turned to slide into the crowd, but she caught him with her eyes.
Her head nodded toward her car. Slade followed her gaze. Through the open car door, he could see his backpack on the front seat right next to her bags.
Why don’t you talk to me, old
woman? he flung the thought to her.
Silence answered him.
Old woman, you don’t want to mess with me. Why is my bag in your car? This time he added the snarl that begged to be let out, his upper lip curling slightly, but she just stared at him. He wondered if she couldn’t hear him when he held human shape. Testing that theory would have to wait, since a man shifting to a large wolf in a discount store parking lot would draw more notice than a man beating two punks up.
As soon as the cop had moved a safe distance away from her, she turned to Slade. She looked pointedly at him, and then to the car again. Her lips pursed together. Slade felt her next move would be to put her hands on her hips and tap her foot.
He sighed. Obviously if he wanted his backpack, he would have to ride with her for a bit. He approached slowly, stopping beside her.
“Get in the car, boy. I’ll give you a ride. Thank you for what you done for me.” Her reedy voice sounded soft, but he heard the steel underlying her words.
“I don’t need a ride, old woman. Just give me my backpack.” He heard the edge in his own voice, she just grinned at him.
“Sure you do, boy. I didn’t tell them cops nothing about you, ‘cept you a Good Samaritan. Now get in the car. Dinner will be waiting.”
“You know, don’t you?” He stared at her, willing her to refute him, but with a weird hope that she wouldn’t.
“Yes, Loup Garou. Malcolm Slade. I know what you are. Now get in the car afore that bleeding arm of yours catches the cop’s eyes.”
Slade glanced down to see that his arm still bled slightly. It didn’t hurt, not really. It stung a bit, just enough to annoy him. He sighed and crawled into the passenger side. She got in the car and started toward the main road.
“I never told you my name, did I, boy? I’m Kay Fuqua. Most folks call me Tante Kay.”
“Why are you helping me?” Slade studied her face. No human had ever reached out to him in this way, or any other for that matter. The old woman might have been beautiful at one point, but the years had definitely taken a toll on her. Her wrinkled skin, marked with age spots, should have been repulsive, but only gave her character. Her eyes shone clear. They reminded him of his aunt’s eyes before his uncle had started in on his reign of terror.
“’Cause you need help.” She cackled as Slade shook his head. The drive back to the cabin didn’t take nearly as long as his walk had this morning. Cypress and pin oak trees decorated with Spanish moss crowded the dusty road.
Every now and again, a white egret would protest the nearness of machines by flying across their path. The old woman ignored it all, keeping her eyes firmly on the road, her hands steady on the wheel, humming something that sounded like a hymn.
Slade folded his arms with his chin tucked against his chest to feign sleep. He didn’t want to get into a question and answer session while trapped in a car with a human. Even though he could rip her apart without bothering to shift, he knew he didn’t want to do that.
Then the small cabin came into view. The afternoon sun struck the porch and the woman who stepped out onto it as the car pulled in. Slade felt his stomach turn over, forcing him to take a deep breath. Joie’s hair gleamed in the sunlight. He thought he might be able to sit there and watch her skirt swish in the breeze forever.
Then he shook his head. What on earth? That was a human female he was drooling over. He would have smacked himself in the head, but he knew the old woman watched him and he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.
When the car stopped, the old woman slid out. He waited a moment before opening his own door. He had to unfold himself to stand up, but once he did he stretched the kinks out. As he moved his shoulders and head, he watched Joie out of the corner of his eye. This might be fun. She couldn’t deny the attraction. He could smell it from her. Still, she took a step back as he got out of the car.
Chapter Four
Joie wondered where all the oxygen had gone. Swallowing hard, she tried to get her lungs to cooperate with her, but they wouldn’t. The most attractive, yet scary, man she’d ever seen got out of Tante Kay’s car. He stood shirtless, wearing jeans that hugged his hips and thighs like nothing she’d ever witnessed before. He leaned casually against the car.
He was very tall and built like a professional wrestler with broad shoulders, a definite six-pack abdomen, slim waist and hips and amazingly long legs.
Staring enviously at the straight hair flowing over his shoulders to the midpoint of his chest in a glorious fall of cinnamon, she barely registered the mustache and goatee. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes. He pulled his hair into a loose ponytail as she continued watching him.
She noticed the tattoo then, a Celtic knot pattern around his left biceps. Her heart flipped when he moved, but he just turned to pick up his backpack. He had another tattoo on his upper shoulder of a bleeding heart with a wolf feeding on it. Another wolf howled from the small of his back just above the waistband of his jeans.
There was some type of mark on his left hand as well. It looked like a brand one would see on a horse or cow. There were also a few scars on his chest and arms, just faint white lines really, but the golden color of his skin brought them out.
“Joie! You listening, child? Joie?” Tante Kay snapped her fingers in front of Joie’s face.
“Sorry, Tante! I lost track. What did you say?” Joie brought her attention back to her godmother.
Then the words broke through. “Wait a minute!” Joie put her hand on Tante Kay’s arm. “You were attacked?”
“Just some foolish boys tryin’ to steal my bag. He took care of them.” As Kay spoke, she jerked her head toward the man standing there. “Get him inside, child. He’s bleedin’.”
Joie gasped as she noticed the shallow cut on his arm. Moving across the front yard, she reached out to touch his hand, letting go of him in a hurry as he removed his glasses. Looking into his eyes gave her a jolt, kind of like being shocked by a live wire.
The look in his light brown eyes told her he’d felt something too. Lord above, the man has beautiful eyes. They reminded her of something but she had no idea what.
“Please come inside. I’m Joie, Joie Sue Landry.”
“Malcolm Slade.”
Goose bumps broke out on her skin in response to his sexy rumble. Joie ran her hands up and down her arms as she led the way into the kitchen. He followed, just close enough to make her tremble. He was very tall. She’d always felt somewhat vertically challenged, but she imagined the crick in her neck she would get from trying to look up at him for long.
“Please sit down. I’ll get something to take care of your arm. Thank you for saving Tante Kay.”
“No problem.” He sat down at the kitchen table, his long legs sprawling under it.
“Tante, are you sure you’re okay? I’m going to put a pot on for some tea. Do you need a sandwich?” Joie fussed over her godmother for a moment, then looked at their guest again.
He hadn’t moved since sitting down. Slouching in the chair with his injured arm propped on the table, he smiled at her. Her heart exchanged spots with her stomach, then skipped back in place. He has such a sexy curve to his lips.
“I can stitch it up or just put a butterfly bandage on it.” Focus, Joie, focus on what you need to do. And for heaven’s sake, remember that drooling on the patient only spreads germs.
“The bandage will work.”
She wondered if a spell could be cast just with a voice. At the sound of his voice, her limbs felt like she’d been floating out on the bayou soaking up the sun. And his lap looked just right for curling up in, but a nap didn’t seem to be the first thing on her mind. Then her godmother’s voice cut through the sensual haze his voice seemed to have trapped her in. “You’ll stay here for a day or two, boy.”
Joie stared at Tante Kay. Stay here? Had Tante lost her mind? She wanted this testosterone factory to be a guest in their tiny cabin? There wasn’t room! But before Joie could speak, she heard him.
“No, it’s
not necessary.” Malcolm’s voice rumbled across her again, sexy as all get out. He didn’t have a discernable accent, but he couldn’t be Cajun. Traces of a Southern drawl fell out every now and again, but there were other tones she couldn’t place.
She managed to bandage his arm without touching him too much. She remained completely aware of the heat coming off him as well as his very masculine scent. Joie remembered he had saved Tante Kay. It would be unkind and uncharitable to send him out without some rest and food.
“Please,” Joie added her own plea to her godmother’s. “We’d feel better if you stayed at least until we know you don’t have an infection. Besides, you saved Tante, and deserve some reward.”
Malcolm’s eyes hadn’t left her face since they’d been introduced and now he smiled. She knew he’d seen her reaction when the suggestion for him to stay had been made. Now he had the audacity to look at her like that? The grin crossing his face had to be meant for her and her alone. It let her know in no uncertain terms just what he’d like for his reward.
Joie had seen men look at other women that way. She’d had a few of those looks directed at her as well, but she’d set those high school swamp rats in their place. Now her brain malfunctioned. He rattled her with just that sexy smile. She dropped the bandages as she cleared the table. With a sigh, she knelt down to pick things up.
Turning away from him, she felt his gaze go down her back, almost like a physical caress. She didn’t know how, but she knew that if she’d turned around at the right moment, she would have seen it for herself. The man apparently thought he was a gift to women. Hmmph.
Joie busied herself setting the table as Tante Kay and Malcolm talked.
“Ms. Fuqua—” Malcolm started, only to be interrupted.
“Don’t call me Ms., son. I stayed married for nearly thirty-five years before the cancer took my Pierre. I don’t cotton to these newfangled words.” She emphasized her statement with a thump of her foot on the floor.
Malcolm nodded. “Mrs. Fuqua, then. You need to carry pepper spray on your key chain in case you’re attacked again. There won’t always be someone near enough to help you. You could’ve been hurt.”
