The Coyote's Comfort

by Holley Trent

  Lanie followed.

  “Looking for beds and dressers?” the attendant asked. “That’s usually what folks want. That, and art.”

  “Nah. Benches and storage.”

  With a nod, the attendant directed her rightward. “Master bedroom. Look in the closet. All the clothes are still in there, but if you can see past those, you’ll note that none of the fixtures are built in.”

  “I like you. What’s your name?”

  The lady beamed. “Sarah.”

  “You can be my friend today, Sarah.”

  The lady was about to say something, but before she could get it out Lanie cleared her throat and said, “Your competency is appreciated.” She nudged Diana along.

  Diana glared at her in silence as they passed the stair railing and crossed into the quieter hall. Lanie wasn’t usually the rude type. Impatient, on occasion, but never rude.

  She didn’t think Lanie was going to say anything in her own defense on the matter. She probably didn’t think an apology was necessary. Her lips were pressed tight as they stepped into the master. There were some couples in it, peering at the heavy, gilt frames around the art and assessing the sturdy dressers and night tables. The furniture was the kind that was built well enough to have survived a stampede.

  Maybe it has.

  Diana wasn’t in the market for bedroom furniture, though.

  She darted toward the neglected closet, ignoring the raised eyebrows from the onlookers as she entered. Those people didn’t know how to shop.

  “Why do you always do that?” Lanie whispered when Diana paused to assess the spacious, custom-built walk-in.

  Holy shit.

  The room was nearly half the size of the bedroom, accounting for at least two hundred square feet of real estate. It was stuffed wall-to-wall with custom racks and shelving.

  A bead of sweat trickled down her back and her breath suddenly went thready.

  It was an organizer’s dream come true, and all real wood.

  She started counting units.

  Two. Four. Six…

  “Diana,” Lanie whispered aggressively, tugging Diana’s attention back to her.

  She was blocking the doorway and leaning against the trim, arms folded over her chest.

  Diana swallowed the lump in her throat. “What?”

  “Every time I see you lately, you do that. It’s disrespectful.”

  “What do I do? Work? I thought you knew that after Blue and I defected from our father’s pack that he cut me off. I’ve got to actually work for a living because I don’t have a safety net anymore. In the past, you would have appreciated that sort of gumption from me.”

  Once, Diana had jokingly suggested that Lanie sponsor her life of leisure. They’d both been naked at the time. Lanie hadn’t said anything in response. At least, not out loud. But she’d always asked Diana about her work—about what she was going to do, and Diana didn’t always have an answer.

  She wasn’t like Blue. Her father was right that she didn’t have a brain for books and history. Her instincts had always been her guiding force. Usually, they were good enough to distract people from her disinterest in academics, but she knew they’d all figure it out eventually. If it weren’t for her organizing skills and natural ability to corral wayward Coyotes, there’d be nothing impressive about her at all.

  A little muscle at the side of Lanie’s cheek twitched.

  Trying to ignore what it meant, Diana resumed counting and fidgeted with her phone.

  Two, four, six…

  “Lately, you always do that,” Lanie whispered. “You deflect, and when deflection doesn’t work, you flirt.”

  Diana stopped counting again and stared with agitation at a particularly garish fur coat.

  Who the fuck needs fur in New Mexico?

  She really hated rich people sometimes, regardless of the fact that she’d once been one of them. Sometimes, they seemed to have more money than sense.

  Her phone buzzed. She peered at the screen. There was a message from Marco, one of the pack’s lower-tier Coyotes. He didn’t have a huge amount of shapeshifter energy, but he had a strong back. That counted for something in Diana’s estimation.

  We outside, Deedee. Me and Dirk. Where ya at?

  Diana sighed and tapped in a message in return:

  Hold tight. I’ll be down in a minute.

  “Diana,” Lanie said.

  Diana held up a hand to shush her and counted units. “Two. Four. Six. Eight. Ten. Twelve. Fourteen. Are those padded benches nailed down?”

  Lanie’s brow furrowed and she stared at Diana with patent annoyance, but then she got moving. She lifted the lids of each bench to check for inside capacity, and then managed to work her fingers beneath both. She lifted the corner of each, one after the other, off the floor to indicate their portability. Standing, she knocked the dust off her hands.

  Diana nodded and bolted out of the closet before Lanie could say anything else.

  She could tell herself that she was just trying to protect her deal, but she knew better.

  That woman… Diana couldn’t just stand there with that woman and act like nothing had happened between them.

  And she couldn’t pretend that she’d ever be good enough for Lanie.

  She wouldn’t be.

  They both knew that, and that was why Diana had dumped her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Years prior, when Blue Shapely had shown up at a graduate student alumni reception with his sister in tow, Lanie had taken an immediate interest. So much of an interest, in fact, that she’d thrust her drink at the professor she’d been trying to sweet-talk a reference letter out of and made an immediate path for Blue.

  His sister had drifted off by the time Lanie had made it to the door, interested in the paltry spread of finger foods on the banquette. With Diana’s attention otherwise focused, Lanie had no qualms about sidling up next to Blue and mumbling, “Who’s that?”

  Blue had answered under his breath, “Avoid.”

  “Why? Straight?”

  “No. Messy.”

  Lanie had laughed at that. “But who is she?”

  “My sister.”

  “She’s your sister?”

  He’d spoken of her before in vague terms, of course. They’d spoken about a lot of things in vague terms back when they’d been working cooperatively on research for their theses. They were looking at some texts about ancient Egyptian spirituality and were bouncing bibliographical references off of each other. One thing led to another. Lanie couldn’t remember exactly how the subject had come up, but Lanie had put two and two together and worked out that Blue was some kind of shapeshifter.

  He’d been wary about admitting he was, but she’d quickly dismissed his horror.

  She was good at keeping her mouth shut about other people’s business. That was how she’d managed to leave the Army after thirteen years without too many enemies, and she’d seen some seriously twisted shit.

  All Lanie had known about Blue’s mysterious sister up until that reception was that Diana was a bit younger than Blue and that she was something of a wildcard.

  Lanie had this picture in her head of Diana being a bubbly, energetic, puppy of a woman. Blonde with big expressive eyes and a smile that could be seen from space, perhaps.

  She wasn’t that.

  She was tall and svelte. Dark-haired and pale-eyed. She had a killer smile, for sure, but it wasn’t the friendly sort. It was the kind that people wore when they suspected that they were worshipped as queens in past lives. And she walked with swaying hips and heavy steps like the ground offended her and that it deserved every stomp she gave it.

  Before she’d seen that woman, Lanie had never understood people being called “animalistic.” With Diana, the word made perfect sense. She was absolutely primal.

  “I wouldn’t do that to you,” Blue had murmured into his drink, eying his sister sideways.

  She’d started talking to a geriatric professor of folklore—actually bend
ing patronizingly to look into his eyes—and he hadn’t even seemed to notice. The usually terse old asshole had kept right on talking and talking.

  Diana had kept smiling.

  “How messy?” Lanie had asked Blue.

  “Are you serious?” The man had sounded genuinely perplexed. “I know your ex. She’s a Stepford wife in training. Diana…isn’t that.”

  “Yes, I know exactly what my ex is.” Lanie had thought she’d wanted that for a while. She’d left the Army and put herself on the fast track to marriage, kids—all of that. Francine had been sweet and shared Lanie’s goals of domesticity.

  But Francine didn’t have a life of her own. Her only interests were Lanie’s interests, and that was cute at first, but it got boring.

  Everything about that relationship had gone stale.

  Lanie hadn’t wanted that again. Why the hell would anyone want to be with a personality-clone of herself, especially when the clone couldn’t adapt?

  “You make the introduction,” Lanie had told Blue. “Let me worry about whether or not she’s too messy for me.”

  At that, Blue had thrown up his hand in frustration and made the introduction at the earliest possible moment. Diana had been charming and irreverent, and all Lanie had been able to think was, I want to take you home.

  She still wanted to. Unfortunately, Diana had become far less cooperative in recent years. She was getting wilder rather than more settled, but that didn’t bother Lanie.

  Yet.

  Following Diana at a safe distance to the stairs, Lanie tapped out a text message to Blue.

  Found her.

  Diana stopped to chat with the estate sale employee at the top of the stairs. Lanie overheard, “I want every unit in that closet. Would cash be weird?”

  The woman blinked several times before shaking her head. “Well. No. But that’s a lot of ca—”

  “I’m good for it,” Diana called over her shoulder as she bounded down the stairs.

  For a few seconds, the woman watched Diana strut away, and then she ferreted a calculator out of the pile of junk atop her makeshift podium.

  Lanie didn’t wait to watch the woman do the math.

  She followed Diana through the front door, furrowing her brow at the two newcomers on approach.

  One wore a back support brace. The other kept tossing a leather utility glove in the air and catching it. Neither appeared to have showered in recent days.

  “Here’s the key to the back of the truck.” Diana thrust a padlock key at them. “I’ve got a couple of chests for you to start with. If you put a single new ding or scratch on them, I’m going to have you running laps barefooted in the desert at midday. Do you understand me?”

  Both men gulped.

  Ah.

  Coyotes, Lanie guessed. She hadn’t been around many in the past five years, aside from Diana and Blue, and occasionally one of Blue’s lieutenants. She was good at guessing relationships, though, and those men looked as though the threat was one Diana would actually carry through on.

  The phone quivered with the incoming response from Blue.

  Good. I won’t bother wishing you luck. Not sure luck’s going to help you.

  Lanie lifted an eyebrow and looked up to watch Diana breezing past her with the Coyotes.

  She said to the men, “After you’re done with the trunks and that rack over there, we need to…” Her voice trailed off as they disappeared into the house.

  Lanie texted Blue back. I’m not relying on luck. I plan on employing logic.

  Logic? With Diana? She won’t let you make a complete point. That’s her tactic.

  Lanie could practically hear Blue’s deep, bellowing laugh through the letters displayed on the screen. “You underestimate me,” she murmured. She tapped out one last message.

  Facts persist even after fables fade from collective memory, Alpha. Even a wild element like your sister would know that.

  And know what was best for her.

  Lanie was best for Diana. Everyone seemed to know that except Diana, for some frustrating reason.

  She put away her phone and followed the sound of Diana’s voice up the stairs.

  “Be delicate with the clothing,” Diana instructed the Coyotes. “Someone wore these with pride, I imagine, so respect their memory and preserve their condition. Sarah says to start laying everything in front of the balcony doors.”

  The attendant knelt in the corner of the room, counting cash.

  “Get the stuff downstairs first,” Diana said, “and then start up here.”

  The Coyotes retreated.

  Diana joined Sarah, ignoring Lanie. “How was my math?”

  “I’d give you an A-plus.” Sarah winked.

  Lanie pressed her lips tightly together.

  “I’ll be out of your hair in an hour,” Diana said. “Those guys look scrawny, but they’re like ants. They can carry many times their body weights.”

  “No rush. I find myself delightfully entertained, for a change.”

  Lanie pressed her lips even tighter. She imagined she must have been wearing that face that used to make her subordinates back the hell away from her desk and come back later. Given that Sarah wasn’t looking at her, she wasn’t at all affected.

  “Take some of my cards.” Diana tucked a couple into the woman’s blazer pocket. “Trying to get a business back off the ground. I’d appreciate any word of mouth.”

  “Hey. Absolutely.”

  Diana grinned at her.

  Lanie said in a soft voice, “My, I hope someone unbolted the second half of the front door so the men can get that furniture out in one piece.”

  The sales attendant zippered the cash into her bank pouch and scrambled downstairs.

  Diana scowled at Lanie.

  “You’re doing it again,” Lanie said quietly.

  She’d never been the sort who’d make a scene, but sometimes with Diana, things escalated quickly. Lanie was prepared.

  “Doing what?” Diana snapped.

  Sliding her hands into the pockets of her slacks, Lanie made her way to the railing and looked down into the foyer. The staff was scrambling to unfasten the latches and unbolt the usually stationary half of the front door. “You know what you do,” Lanie said. “You know the effect you have on people. They can’t resist you.”

  Actually, they didn’t particularly try to resist her. Lanie hadn’t been so successful at that, either, but the difference between her and all the rest of them was that she had a legitimate claim. She’d put in the work. She’d decided that she was going to love that woman and her messes, and things hadn’t gotten hard until Diana had decided she didn’t want to be loved.

  That would never make sense to Lanie.

  “I don’t like being scolded,” Diana said. “I’m a grown woman.”

  “I’m not scolding you yet, Diana. If I were, I think you’d know it. I’m simply asking you to avoid agitating me on purpose. That scheme has never made me storm off before, and I’m not entirely certain why you think that would change now.”

  “I’m working.”

  “And I will let you work.”

  Lanie pulled her hands from her pockets and peered at her watch. Eleven. It wasn’t going to take long for those Coyotes to transfer the furniture into the truck and then deliver it to wherever Diana meant for it to go. Three hours tops, she guessed. They’d be done in time for a late lunch.

  And that was fine. Lanie had some things to do in the meantime.

  “I wanted you to know I was here.”

  Diana wrapped a couple of fingers around the end of her ponytail and locked her gaze on the commotion at the front door.

  “I’m going to make some calls.”

  Diana shifted her weight. “Nice seeing you.”

  Lanie wasn’t done being seen, but she had nothing further to say at the moment. She descended the stairs, admiring the hand-carved banister as she went. Overly ornate, but the craftsmanship was so outstanding that the excessiveness almost didn’t matter
.

  She nodded to the sale attendant on the porch on her way out and left without looking back.

  Lanie rarely saw the point of looking back. Either Diana would be there or not. It didn’t make a difference if she was. Lanie’s goal wouldn’t change. She was there to get Diana to commit, and whether or not she got a single longing stare from the Coyote, she was going to follow her plan to the letter.

  “Next stop,” she murmured as she climbed into her rental SUV. “Blue Shapely’s place.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “She’s at your house, isn’t she?” Diana asked without preamble as soon as her brother answered his phone.

  Carefully, she edged into traffic with the moving truck and checked her mirrors for the Coyotes behind her. They’d been manageable enough, but sometimes Coyotes got distracted. She didn’t want them to forget that they weren’t going to get paid until all those shelving units were unloaded at the storage facility.

  “Who?” Blue asked. “Mom? Because if you’re asking about Mom, no, she’s not here. She’s helping some of the Coyote women string up holiday lights in the town square. Community volunteer stuff. Always looking for a project, isn’t she? I guess that’s not a bad thing.”

  “You know damn well that isn’t who I’m talking about.”

  “Willa? I’m sure she’d appreciate you asking about her, but Willa drove into Albuquerque for the day with her aunt and my credit card. They said something about layettes.”

  “Not talking about her, either, you annoying ass-boil. Stop toying with me.” She put the phone on speaker and propped it in the cup holder. She really needed two hands to drive that big truck. She wouldn’t have made the call at all if not for the fact that she felt like she needed to cut off whatever plan Lanie had formed before she could fully implement it. Diana wasn’t going to fall victim to her allures.

  So ridiculous.

  Lanie always accused Diana of being the charming flirt, but the effect Diana had on people was always fleeting. They didn’t give a damn about her after she walked away. They were only interested in her for as long as she was standing in front of them. The part of her that was a wild canine tickled their ids. They read her as a sensual, adventurous thing that they wanted to hitch their lust to. Sometimes, that was convenient. Coyotes liked flattery and attention, and Diana was certainly no different in that regard. But sometimes, Diana wanted to be treated the way others were—without the guesswork of whether or not she’d be good enough for them once her gleam wore off.