Seduced by Her Two Masters [The Wolf Masters 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Berengaria Brown

  “I’ve heard of people stealing copper from out of electrical switchgear and things like that, too. Every now and again the trains are all stopped because some copper wiring has been stolen from the terminal boxes or whatever they’re called,” added York.

  “Well that’s not going to happen. I know she intends on travelling with us. With you as well as me, Cody, the two of us are more than capable of watching the truck. One of us will need to stay with the rig when the other goes on meal breaks, that’s all,” said Bronx.

  “I don’t think that will work. It’s a hell of a long drive to New York and you both have to share the driving, even if the woman shares the navigating. That means you’re both going to need to sleep at night, not stand watch over the sculptures. You’re there to drive, not to be on guard duty,” argued Carson.

  “If she navigates, maybe one of us could nap while the other drives.” Cody spoke tentatively. He was the new boy here and didn’t like to argue with the boss, but those rigs only had three seats and so only three people could travel in the cab.

  He looked over at Nevis. She was sitting to the side, staying out of the conversation, but was watching them all intently.

  “The cab of a big rig is pretty spacious. Could you fit a fourth person in?” asked Carson.

  “Well you probably could, but there are only three seat belts and on such a long journey comfort becomes important,” said Bronx.

  “Carson is right though. The cab is quite wide. It’s built with the comfort of the driver and codriver on a long haul in mind. We could easily fit three adults and a dog in there. Hell, Ben and Jerry both fit in the cab with us,” said York.

  “But we’re not taking Ben and Jerry. You and I both know they’re useless as guard dogs. Jerry would be more likely to lick a burglar to death than to bark and wake us up.” Bronx sounded grumpy although Cody didn’t really know why. York was just trying to help.

  “Oh, no. Wait a minute. You don’t expect me…”

  “York has to mind the office. Cody and I will be driving. That leaves you,” Bronx said firmly.

  Cody suddenly understood. Carson was to be the dog making the journey in his werewolf shape-shifted form.

  “Woof,” said Carson.

  Cody laughed. He liked this man. Hell, he liked all these people. He was really looking forward to becoming part of the team here at Pine Corner.

  * * * *

  Carson hadn’t necessarily intended to stay at Pine Corner. It was on his short list of possible places to live because it was reasonably central, had awesome Internet, and was a new and growing business with a young and energetic team. But since it seemed he’d be here for the next few weeks at least, he threw himself into Pine Corner life, going around with Cody and getting to know the people and the community. He also made several trips out to Anne Wade’s studio to begin crating up the sculptures. She insisted on supervising every step of the process herself, and he was happy enough to learn a new skill. Besides, the woman was amazing.

  At first sight she looked very masculine in her old, stained jeans and heavy work boots. Of course, when she turned around he noticed she had a pair of very fine breasts, which proved she wasn’t male. Her talent was mind-blowing. She’d snatch up a sketchbook, scribble a few lines on it and he’d be left staring in stunned bemusement at an absolutely perfect drawing of something. She made it look so easy. A few sweeps of her hand, a little rub with her pinky finger to blend the charcoal lines, and there was a picture he’d be proud to hang on the wall of his apartment.

  Well, if he had an apartment, which he didn’t at the moment. His possessions were in storage up on the mountain while he chose where to live.

  Carson had left the city in a rush after deciding he couldn’t stand the noise, the pollution, and the screaming crowds for another day. He’d hired a moving company to pack everything in his apartment, and asked the Hot Springs helicopter pilot to collect him and his possessions. Actually he’d been surprised at how little he owned. Of course, his apartment had been leased furnished, but he had books, paintings, clothing, kitchen appliances, and utensils, all of which fit into the—admittedly very large—helicopter, although Trenton, the pilot, had removed a row of seats for extra luggage space and left his copilot back on the mountain. But still, Carson had now left the city and was looking for a new place to set up as his home. Somewhere quiet and peaceful, where he could make friends and take life a little easier than the constant frenetic pace of the city.

  Except that he was about to road trip right back to New York. As a fucking wolf. Yes, he was insane, there was no other term to explain his actions. But he liked Anne. She was smart, talented, and when she wasn’t elbow deep in plaster or off living in her head designing a masterpiece, she was a funny and intelligent conversational partner.

  Cody was a parcel of surprises, too. He seemed very shy and tended to stand back and watch, but he had a quick mind and a clever wit as well. Carson thought the road trip might be fun. Although if he really would be in wolf form he wouldn’t be doing much talking. Still, he found himself looking forward to the journey, potential robbers or not.

  The day before they were to leave, all of them went up to Anne’s studio. All the sculptures were already in their crates, and she’d hired, as was apparently her custom, four local teenagers to help move them. Another teenager was left at the entry where the dirt track which led to her studio intersected with the road. The big rig would not be able to leave the track to get out of the way of any other traffic so anyone else wanting to visit her needed to leave their car with the young man and walk up, being prepared to jump off the track at any time if the rig approached.

  When Carson got to the studio he found what seemed like most of the town already there to watch the loading. Every able-bodied person from sixteen to sixty wanted to help, and Carson admired Bronx’s skill at using the people even though half of them weren’t needed.

  He watched Anne nervously pacing around her treasures, petting the crates from time to time as if to reassure the sculptures she was there and would protect them. It’d never occurred to him before, but she’d poured so much of her heart and soul, and her hopes for her future as an artist into these works, he guessed it was probably hard for her not to have them in her house anymore.

  He’d been involved in cases that he’d worked on for months but he’d usually been glad when the decision was finally handed down. But for her, closure meant saying good-bye to her work and never seeing it again, whereas his cases were matters of record anyone could read. He really hoped these sculptures were sold to museums or galleries or at least to collectors who’d have them out on display for the world to admire. It’d be tragic to have them locked away somewhere and never seen again.

  Her talent was quite stunning and her work more than worthy of recognition. He’d never known an artist personally before, although he been to dozens of events at galleries in the course of his career. But seeing her now, so concerned for her sculptures, and so tender toward them, really brought home to him how much of herself she gave in the creation of her work.

  Finally the rig was loaded and drove slowly back down the road, followed by the crowd. When they arrived at the transportation depot, Bronx locked the truck in the warehouse. The truck was locked, the warehouse was locked, and the gates to the property were locked. But still York slept in the truck cab that night, for extra security and so the travelers would have a proper night’s sleep in their own beds before they left on their journey.

  The next morning at six, when Carson arrived from the Pine Corner Plaza hotel with Cody, where they were both staying, Nevis was piling food and bedding for them all in the back of the truck. He and Cody added their own luggage for the journey to the pile, then helped Nevis arrange the pillows, quilts, blankets, and sleeping bags in one corner of the truck and the boxes of food and water on the other side.

  “How long do you think we’ll be gone?” he teased Nevis.

  “It doesn’t matter to you. You’ll
be wearing fur. I’ll be one who has to find a laundry and wash all my clothing. I only bought enough for a few days,” Cody said.

  “Bronx hasn’t said how long you’ll be away or which route you’re taking. I think he wants to keep that side of things as private as possible,” said Nevis.

  “That makes sense.” Carson nodded at her words.

  There were quite a few different highways they could take after the first few hundred miles, or they could circle around and approach New York from an unexpected direction.

  “I think the most important thing will be not to stop at the most popular places,” said Cody.

  “But also not to stop in the isolated middle of nowhere where no one would notice if we were attacked. This whole situation is more complicated than I thought.”

  Carson was glad he hadn’t had to plan their journey. Even their route through New York to the gallery would be dangerous. Some neighborhoods would not be a good place to be caught in rush hour traffic even in a B-train. Other places a B-train wasn’t allowed to go. And everyone would know their destination and likely be able to work out how they’d make the final section of their journey. Carson decided that would be the most dangerous part. The last hundred miles.

  Chapter Two

  Anne slung her purse, her laptop bag, and her carry bag over one shoulder, then wheeled her suitcases to the door of her studio. She locked it behind her and checked it was properly secured before dropping the keys into her purse, and wheeling her luggage across the uneven concrete pathway to her truck.

  “One day I absolutely must redo this path and spend more time tidying the yard.”

  She slung the cases into the bed of the pickup, where her toolbox already sat, before placing her laptop more carefully on the passenger seat. “God, Anne, sometimes you’re such a girl.” She shook her head at herself and the huge amount of luggage she’d brought for just a week.

  She climbed into the driver’s seat and started the truck, turning it carefully and bumping down the driveway to the road into Pine Corner. When the laptop almost slid off the seat, she bent over and placed it on the floor.

  “And if I remembered that this was the twenty-first century occasionally, likely I’d have an iPad or a Tablet instead of a cumbersome old laptop as well. And it’d fit inside my purse and save one extra piece of luggage. Thank God we’re making the journey in a great big truck. If I were going by airplane the cost of my overweight baggage would be half my commission for the sale.”

  But the problem was the journey would take more than one day, which meant an overnight stop, and she wanted to travel in comfortable clothes. Once they arrived and uncrated her sculptures she might need to polish or burnish them, so she needed some tools and her work clothing and boots. But after that she was an artisan, a sculptor, a lady, and she needed to dress in a professional manner. Frilly princess wasn’t her style, but pants and work boots wouldn’t be acceptable either. And she didn’t know how long they’d be staying in New York. Unlike a man who only needed a suit with a couple shirts and neckties, a woman needed several distinctly different outfits. Which meant matching shoes and purses. And since she was an artist her jewelry needed to be different and eye-catching as well. All of which added up to the mountain of garments in her two suitcases. The carry bag held all she’d need on the road trip.

  Even though it was not much after six in the morning, the transportation parking lot was alive with people and activity. Nevis held Lady in her arms, while Ben and Jerry were racing around investigating everyone and everything. The warehouse doors were wide open and York was bringing out their little green car, named Kermit. Behind Kermit, Bronx was driving the white minivan, Walter. Carson was sitting in the rented car he’d been using, parked against the fence, and Cody was standing on the deck, watching everything. Anne reversed out of the parking lot and waited right at the entry to the property. She had no idea where they wanted her to park, and at least this position was out of everyone’s way.

  The other vehicles were lined up against the fence beside Carson. York grabbed hold of Ben and Jerry and took them up onto the deck, and Bronx brought the big rig, Animal, out of the warehouse. Anne shook her head at the names of the vehicles. That was Nevis’s doing. Apparently she named pretty much everything. Well, Anne couldn’t really complain, she always named her sculptures. Besides, Nevis was one of her closest friends.

  Within ten minutes, Carson’s vehicle and Anne’s own truck were parked inside the warehouse, well out of the way, and Kermit and Walter were back in there as well. Ben, Jerry, and Lady were tied to the deck railings where they couldn’t get too near the rig. Carson and Cody transferred all Anne’s luggage to the rig and the back door was securely locked, then Bronx kissed Nevis, and thumped York on the shoulder.

  “Let’s get moving,” he ordered, hustling her, Carson, and Cody over to the rig.

  Anne’s mind was filled with questions, but she could tell Bronx wasn’t going to answer any of them right now, so she climbed up into the cab, her body squashed between Cody and Carson. Not that she was complaining. They both had very nice bodies. Hell, she wouldn’t mind either of them naked to draw, or even in bed. Besides, Cody was the only reason why her “Tree of Man” sculpture had been finished on time.

  The dogs barked wildly, Nevis waved, and Bronx drove very slowly out of the gate and onto the road. Five minutes later they were on the highway heading east as fast as the speed limit permitted.

  “May I assume you’ve changed your mind about it being too cramped to have four people in the truck cab? Mind you, as the designated dog, I’m not complaining here,” said Carson.

  Anne sniggered. She hoped Carson didn’t think she was laughing at him, but his sentence was spoken so seriously, yet it was pure nonsense from a logical point of view.

  “Designated dog?” Cody laughed outright.

  “Cody, turn sideways so your body blocks the passenger window. Carson, sit forward so anyone looking in our windscreen would see only you. Now, Anne, can you see the window behind the seat?

  “Huh?” Anne swiveled right around and saw what he meant. It was long and narrow. more a view port into the rear of the truck than a window. She guessed it was so the navigator could check on the load or something. “Yes.”

  “If you give it a really good thump in the center with the heel of your hand it will pop out. Try to catch it, but if it falls into the back, don’t worry.”

  “What?” Anne stared at Bronx. Was he telling her to risk smashing the window?

  “What if it breaks?”

  “It’s toughened Perspex. It’s not going to break.”

  “Okay.” Knowing she was a lot stronger than she looked from all the physical work she did in her studio, Anne gave the window a decent bang, but not with her full strength. Nothing happened.

  “You need to put some power into hitting it. The window’s designed not to fall out if someone sneezes on it,” said Bronx.

  This time Anne used her full strength and pounded on the center of the window with her palm. The window popped out and she only just caught it as it dropped.

  “Done that. Now what?”

  “Climb through into the back.”

  “It’s not all that wide. What if I get stuck?”

  “Cody and Carson will either push you through or pull you back here. Just stop arguing and do it.”

  Anne kneeled up on the seat, then half stood, putting her head and shoulders through the gap where the window had been. She pulled herself through, using her arms to push on the metal panel of the wall, and then wiggling her hips. Only when she was almost through did she look down, relieved to see a pile of blankets and pillows under the window. Someone must have moved them there from the corner where Nevis had put them. She worked her legs through and dropped, landing arms first on the pile of bedding.

  “Now you Cody.”

  Hastily Anne stood up and moved out of the way. Cody came through legs first, as did Carson who followed him.

  “Now co
me back again,” said Bronx.

  “Someone else can go first and be the guinea pig,” said Anne.

  Carson jumped up, grabbed the top of the window frame, raised his hips so his legs went through the gap first, and then slid out of her view.

  “That won’t work for me. I’m not that athletic. I never did enjoy chin-ups in gym class,” she said.

  “Do not help her. She has to do it herself,” came Bronx’s voice from the cab.

  Anne poked her tongue out at him then stood directly under the window. She bent her knees then jumped, grabbing the window as Carson had done, but pushing herself through headfirst in the same maneuver as before. But with Bronx driving the big rig and Carson already sitting on the passenger seat, it was quite hard to turn her body and get her legs through without kicking either of them or the windscreen. When she was through she sat hard against the passenger door, leaving as much space for Cody as possible. He came through legs first, his feet banging into the dashboard and his ass dropping into the middle seat.

  “Now, Anne, put the window back, please.”

  Cody handed her the acrylic sheet, which was lighter than she’d expected, and she fit it to the frame, using her fist to tap it into place. “I suppose you have a reason why we’re doing these acrobatics?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  They settled themselves back down, the three of them sharing two generous seats, and only when they were seated did Bronx begin to speak.

  “Everyone knows when we left Pine Corner. Anyone who wanted to find out, anyone with malicious intentions, wouldn’t have any difficulty getting that information. But I’ve constantly made the point that the journey will take several days, and that we’ll be stopping overnight. We’ve mentioned there are places in New York the B-train can’t go and so on.”

  Anne was listening but he wasn’t saying anything they didn’t already know. Anne had several times even considered no longer working in bronze because of the risk of her art being destroyed for cold hard cash. All her hours of thinking and planning, of drawing, designing, making models and sculpting, thrown away in a fire to melt the sculpture into salable copper for money.