The bushes rustled on the opposite side. I had a direct line into them, but those guys didn't. The edge of what looked like a rifle poked less than an inch out the other side. Someone had set them up in their sights. My eyes tried sifting through the copse to see who it was and how many, but they were too well hidden. Mentally, I tried pulling out bits and pieces from memory and matching it up to whoever sat in wait. It didn't work. I reacted, letting instinct take complete control of me.
Charging out of my hiding place, I went straight for the guys. Keeping my crossbow trained on the bush in my left hand, I extended my right hand in front of me. I dove, pushing Seth out of the way and pulling the trigger on the crossbow at the same time. A bullet tore across the yard and cracked a piece of stone at the corner of the house. If someone thought Seth was a target, then the others would dive to protect him. Adam, Jared, and Stephan dove to the ground on top of us.
I kicked away from of the pile and catapulted onto my feet. A sharp pain shot through my ankle. Ignoring it, I limped towards the copse. By the time I made it to the assassin's post, I had another arrow aimed and ready to fire.
I burst through the bushes.
No one was there.
My eyes and ears opened up to my surroundings but all they caught were the footfalls pummeling the ground in the distance and blood scenting the air. I wounded the bastard, but not enough to keep him down. Permanently, that is. More footsteps crunched the lawn behind me.
"I want an explanation!” Seth roared.
Now was the time for being practical, so to hell with pack protocol. I whirled around and faced off. The others circled us, sniffing for evidence of anything left behind. I stood my ground and glared at Seth. Challenge or not, I had to save lives. If he stood in my way, then someone else had better damn well be prepared to save his.
"I got a scent,” Stephan said, crouched in the direction I had noted earlier.
"Take Adam with you and track him,” Seth ordered.
"No!” I shrieked. “Adam can't go. He's the one they're after."
Everyone's gaze fell on me. Seth locked his black, furious eyes on mine, threatening to skewer me until he got his explanation.
"Look, I don't have time for this,” I said. “You weren't the target, Seth. Adam was. He needs to get out of here before they return. If he or Vaughn go into those woods, they'll die."
"And how exactly do you know all this?” Seth snarled, towering over me.
"Because I spent the last couple of hours kidnapped by those people and held hostage.” It was the truth with a few missing details. Now was not the time for repentance. I locked my glare on Seth, mustering enough acrimony to match his. “If you send them out there, you send them to their graves. Don't tell me you spent all that time getting Adam out of trouble to put him six feet under. And what about Vaughn? Are you ready to tell Colleen and Quentin why their Daddy's dead? Because that's what's going to happen if you send either of them into those woods."
Seth didn't break. More like he wouldn't break. He met my stare head on. Anger flared his nostrils for what I had done to him, but I didn't care. I wanted safety for my pack brothers even if it meant my life.
Stephan came up behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders. He pulled away from Seth, but my eyes wouldn't let go of him so easily. At that point, Jared stepped in between us, forcing me to look away.
"Now that that annoying display of insubordination is over,” Seth seethed, “get the hell out of my house!"
Chapter 32
I didn't bother going to the den for my belongings or waiting for Matt to return. I closed my eyes and left, fighting a losing battle with my tears. Hiking the same way I came, I found the car, and drove home. Tears blinded me to the point that I almost had two accidents on the thruway. Who cares? I had lost everything that meant something to me: my surrogate family, a safe place to raise my children. Maybe even my husband, once he found out. I pulled into the driveway and got out. All the energy I had, drained out of me before I could get into the house. I dropped to my knees and started balling all over again.
How could I have been stupid enough to think I could go between the Hunting Club and pack life and not stand a chance at losing both? I betrayed Dane's trust and challenged Seth. I couldn't face Matt, Aiyana, Stephan, or anyone else's questions. Not right now. I just needed some time alone to sort this thing out. But where could I go?
An old invitation came to mind. Graham.
I took my emergency suitcase from the closet and the rest of my gear. Matt wouldn't stay in the pack even if they offered him the choice. He needed them more than me, so left a note saying as much. This whole thing was my fault and sole responsibility. If I had been straight with him in the first place, this never would have happened. Matt promised me repeatedly that he could handle the truth, but I didn't believe it. The pack shouldn't shun him because of me. All of that and more I put into the note. He didn't need to know where I was going, only that I wanted him to stay with the pack. We would work something out if there was anything left to work out. I placed the note on the breakfast counter and left.
Pain radiated throughout my ankle and toes despite my taut sneaker securing everything in place. Unlacing it might crumble my ankle into new agony. Bones ground together, but I didn't notice until I tried pushing down on the gas pedal. Werewolves had a higher threshold for pain, albeit not without limits. It wasn't like I could go to the hospital and have it x-rayed or something. Cruise control pretty much saved my tender foot on the long drive to Charleston.
But that wasn't the only pain I endured. I had my flashbacks to tonight's debacle as a constant reminder.
* * * *
Graham lived in a double wide trailer with access to a small lake about a hundred feet away from the front side door. While my aunt was alive, they had built a small dock so that they could go fishing on the lake or take a quiet boat ride during the evenings. Trees shaded the entire backside of the house. On the other side, Graham tended to his small flower garden. His favorites were wild flowers until Viva introduced him to lilacs. Because there was so much room in the upscale trailer park, the trailers looked more like randomly placed cabins, nestled along the countryside and surrounding a small lake. Hills and more forestry surrounded the area, giving it a cozy appeal.
All the lights were off in Graham's home, but a motion sensor light sprang to life the moment I pulled up behind his rusted pickup. That rusty dark gray Ford should have met the trash heap more than a decade ago. Graham had a comfortable savings account from my aunt's death and spent most of his life being a penny pincher. He could afford something more modern if he wanted.
The front door opened and he stepped out on the porch mouthing curse words at my car. His shotgun rose alongside his body, aiming at the hood of my car instead of the driver's side door. I guess that was good for my sake, if nothing else. I didn't want to come all this way to get blown to chunks.
Opening the door, I got out, eyes glued to the tip of his shotgun. The barrel faltered a moment before lowering. Graham's puzzled, wrinkled face stared at me.
I looked him up and down, wondering how long he had been wearing that awful Civil War nightgown with the blue horizontal stripes. Perhaps Aunt June's death had affected him more than our family thought. Then again, it could have been his “lowlife piece of shit” of a son, Uncle Sammy. We disowned him the day he broke into a convenience store and shot the clerk for a bag of pretzels and a six-pack. Needless to say, life hadn't been kind to Uncle Graham.
"Lex?” Graham said. “What are you doing here?” His voice cracked and a haggard cough tore through his chest. No wonder Dane had kept the Atlanta trip from him; otherwise he would have insisted that he could carry his own weight between hacks.
"How long have you been sick?” I asked, pulling my suitcase and gear out of the passenger's seat.
When his uncontrolled coughing stopped wreaking havoc, he replied, “Answer my question first. Since it is my house and all.” A teasing smile splayed
his face.
I couldn't return his ribbing even if I tried. Tears leaked out of my eyes before I could stop them. “My pack threw me out because I challenged their Alpha tonight. I betrayed Dane because I told them about the contracts on Adam and Vaughn.” My hip bumped the door closed and I slumped against the car. “I don't have anywhere else to go, so I came here. I can't go home and I can't face Dane. Can I face you?"
A clog in my throat threatened to strangle me. It didn't make sense to move one more inch if Graham turned his back on me too.
He waved me up. “You could never do enough wrong to make me turn you away. Come inside, child. Come in.” He coughed another one of those uncontrollable, lung-scraping coughs.
I limped up the stairs and dropped my suitcase on the porch beside him. He didn't have his cane, so I let him lean on me. Of course, I held the gun.
We stayed up for hours talking about tonight's events between cups of Darjeeling tea—nasty by the way. Leaving nothing to chance, I blurted out everything, throwing my entire soul at Uncle Graham's feet. Truth worked best in the end. Too bad I lacked the sense to realize that in the beginning. Graham suggested that I leave the past to the past and concentrate on tomorrow. So I did just that, knowing damn well this would come back to haunt me again.
When I took my shoe off, the bones scraped together like ill-fitted gears. Awful feeling, really. Since I couldn't take any more unnecessary jarring, Uncle Graham found a pair of scissors for me to cut my sock away. Stabbing pain lit up my swollen, bruised foot. It looked about the size and shape of an eggplant and was bad enough to make both of us worry. I scrounged around in a stash of medical supplies and found an elastic bandage to use for the time being. Graham packed ice in two sandwich bags and suggested I take my chances and get it x-rayed at the hospital.
My jaw almost fell out of my mouth. Was he not there during our last hospital catastrophe?
I finally agreed to see his doctor only if meant going to bed sooner, though his cough said he needed help more than me. I found out the old fool had battled bronchitis for more than a week and his doctor thought that it might turn into pneumonia. Between his hacking and my ankle pain, we went to bed around four in the morning.
* * * *
Crackling honey-cured bacon woke me, my nose whiffing the air. I glanced around the room, recalling the fond childhood memories of this place. It still had the full-size bed backed between the two windows. A dresser with a large mirror and a cedar chest stood against the other wall. After Graham threw Uncle Sammy out, Aunt June had the room redone in light blue wallpaper with tiny roses that looked more like berries. Remembering where I was made me smile. Remembering why triggered the sobs all over again. I wanted Matt by my side, but I couldn't let him give up a pack that fit him like a glove. I wanted them, too, but going back and begging for forgiveness wasn't my style.
Once my tears dried, realization of what I had done to my body hit me hard. Tiny points of pain yanked at the sore muscles in my back and along my hips, thighs, and calves. As I stretched, the lower half of my body wanted to recoil into a fetal position. My injured ankle screamed in agony and my knees joined in the chorus. It took time to maneuver myself into a sitting position, and longer to see if I could stand. My feet touched the floor but nothing happened. When I put the weight on them ... good lord! Pain stabbed through the bottom of my feet and straight into my hips. I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out. Taking it slow, I shuffled about, practicing how to stand up straight and look somewhat normal before leaving the bedroom.
The trailer had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a small laundry room off to the side. An open living room made the double wide look larger than it seemed. Graham had a wool couch and matching chair that were more than a decade old. He had done all the reconditioning himself by sewing up the holes and adding padding. The brown recliner my father had bought him six years ago was his favorite piece. In the corner sat a desk with a dusty computer that needed about a half dozen upgrades. On the lake side of the trailer was the kitchen and a small dining area. Graham took most of his meals at the breakfast bar and enjoyed reading under the blanketed sunlight at the table.
Graham danced and swayed from side to side, carrying a pan of bacon to the breakfast bar before dividing the slices onto two plates. Then, he danced his way back to the stove and repeated the whole process again, carrying a pan of fluffy eggs.
Laughter ate away at my sides as I watched his ironing-board butt do a melodic sway to his melodic humming. I thought about turning the radio on and scaring him, but I didn't want to the man to meet his Maker.
He grabbed a cup from the cupboard and poured up a dancing cup of coffee before placing it to the counter. Taking a glass from the same cabinet, he strolled to the refrigerator for the milk. It amazed me that after all these years he hadn't forgotten how much I loved milk. When he finished with the drinks, he retreated to the stove, scooped a stack of pancakes off the griddle and whirled around to face me. He grinned and sat them on the counter.
"I wanted to make sure everything was perfect before I woke you,” he said. “Come. Have a seat and eat your breakfast before it gets cold."
"You didn't have to go through all this trouble,” I said, limping to the breakfast counter.
He waved a hand. “I know you don't eat breakfast, but it's been a while since your last visit. I don't see you often enough, so I want every minute to count."
I had questions on my mind, as I was sure he did too. Why spoil the moment? Because I needed to know.
Before chomping down a piece of bacon, I asked, “Have you spoken to Dane?"
"No.” He sipped his coffee.
"Would you speak to him if he called?” Dumb question, but I learned a long time ago you had to be precise if you wanted clear-cut answers.
"Yes. Unless he comes to harm you, he's still my friend.” Another sip before he sat the mug on the counter. “Why do you think Dane is angry? From what you told me last night, he knew you would warn your pack if you could. You did just that. He won't blame you for being honest."
I rolled my eyes and said, “Honest. That's an understatement. Look, Graham, Dane is only part of the problem. What about Matt and the Georgia Pack? I know you don't like him and hate the life I've chosen, but I wouldn't mind having that life back. They're my friends and I love them. They're like family to me."
"And what if you can't have them back? The Hunting Club will always be here."
"Uncle—"
"Now, hear me out. The Club has been your family since you were eighteen, long before you decided to officially join. Maybe they're not the perfect pack you've always wanted, but they will never stop being there for you, even if you wish it. They see you as their little sister who's trying to find her way in two worlds, neither of which will completely accept her. The Club has people from both worlds who will love you even though you shot one of your own. Dane wants you in the Club for more than just your skills as a hunter. You're dedicated to those who put their trust in you. Dane can't find that level of devotion and diligence from just anyone. When he wished you all the happiness in the world on your wedding day, he meant it. He could care less which world you choose, just as long as you're happy with your choice. That's the greatest gift he could ever give you, Alexa. Why do you think he didn't go along with my plan of putting a contract out on your husband? Above everyone in the Club, including your own crazy screwball of an uncle, Dane is the one who respects you enough to honor your decisions."
"I love my husband and I want to go back to him. Given the choice of being with the Hunting Club or being with the pack, I choose my husband first."
"Sweet Viva told me about the constant moving around you two did during the first two years of marriage. Given the little that you told me about your husband's Pack Alpha, it didn't take long to put the pieces together."
His eyes met mine. He had known all along. I never told anyone about Matt's bigoted Alpha, because I thought they would blame my husband for turning my life
upside down.
He nodded and lowered his gaze. “You guys have been on the run because Matt chose you over his pack. You stood by his side through everything. Don't you think your husband would stand by you through this? If you love him so much, then tell him about the Hunting Club. You had every chance and every reason to divorce him when he dragged you around from state to state, while you were running for your lives. He even dragged you across the border into Canada. Through it all, you were there for him. You sell yourself short if you think your husband can't handle this skeleton in your closet."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing and finished my breakfast in silence.
Chapter 33
I spent the rest of the day thinking about what the wise old fart had said. Maybe he'd found some Native American wisdom in his old age after all. Whether I sat in the house reading from his collection of horror novels or went fishing with him out on the dock, his words stuck to me like glue.
Perhaps I had coddled Matt, but something about my situation seemed so much worse. He had everything to lose by knowing the truth about his precious wife. He had lost one pack because of me and I didn't want him to lose a second. With everything that had happened, it would have been a matter of time before the whole truth came out anyway. One side of my brain said wait until that time came. The other said call and tell him now. Common sense suggested that I wait until my ankle healed so that I could run for my life. Common sense won out.
The idea of calling Matt infested my mind and bombarded me from every angle. He left twelve messages on my cell, pleading for me to return his call. I couldn't. With my body feeling like one gigantic ache and sharp pain suffusing my foot, I tuned out the entire world and lounged on the couch with the Cartoon Network to keep me company.
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