by Deanna Chase
“That’s the thing. She came here as a werewolf the other day and attacked me, but the others, they are definitely not Lily. It’s probably someone she knows, though.” I rushed the words out.
“Probably. How do you know it’s not Lily and a friend of hers?” He shifted in the chair. It wasn’t easy with his over starched jeans.
“They’re male, both of them.”
“I’m so sorry you have to deal with this. You poor thing. How can I make it better?” He fluttered his lashes and displayed an aww-poor-baby look.
Martin Blake made me want to lose my breakfast. His presence alone made my stomach turn. There was no way in hell he could stay in my office all day. I needed to eighty-six his ass, pronto.
“Martin, you know, it will be hard for me to get any work done with you in my office all day, leering at me. You’ll be in the way too.”
He looked as if I’d just told him his mother died.
“How about I hang around out front? I can do some sort of undercover surveillance. You know, keep my eye out for anything strange. And I’m not leering, by the way.” He shifted in his chair again.
Great, he wanted to be my very own personal stalker and hang around the building all day. Probably all night too.
“Whatever. I need to work. Vamoose.” I was more than a little tired of talking to him. I shooed him off. I probably was being rude and he could very well sue me for the Lily mess, but I didn’t care at that moment. What was one more client suing me, right?
“How about I buy you a drink after work? I won’t take no for an answer.”
He hadn’t listened to a word I said, and it was really irritating. Whatever he wanted to hear, I’d tell him in order to get rid of him. Well, almost whatever. At least if I said yes I would get rid of him for now, then I could cancel later. I needed to be alone to think about the mess with Jack. Alone to my own thoughts and without his creepy sneering.
“Sure, a drink.” He had to notice by the tone of my voice I was less than excited. How could he not?
“All right. Tonight. Drinks. Seven? It’s a date.” He almost did a little dance as he stood.
“Let’s get something straight. It’s not a date,” I snapped. If he didn’t leave soon, I felt I might explode for sure.
“Sure, okay. Right. Right, not a date. Got it.”
I seriously doubted he did.
“So, seven then?”
“Yeah. Yeah. Sure, seven.” Again with my less-than-exuberant tone, which didn’t seem to deter him.
Martin backed out of the office, smiling at me like a schoolboy with a crush. Honestly, I had no idea how I got myself into such messes.
“Bye, Martin.” I shooed him out yet again. I didn’t want to personally escort him off the premises, but I would if I had to.
“Bye, Rylie,” he said.
His tone equaled little hearts in his eyes. He left and I almost expected him to do a cartwheel on his way out.
If Lily saw me having drinks with Martin, it would be sudden death for one of us. There was no way I could meet with him. I’d think of some excuse later.
Chapter 15
How to Date a Werewolf Rule # 15:
Be nice to your date and there’ll be no need to worry about your personal safety.
After Martin tucked his tail and ran—he didn’t literally have a tail, yet—I had an uneventful morning. At lunchtime, I decided to grab a bite from the café down the street, maybe a beignet. As I headed down the sidewalk, allowing the scent of coffee to lead the way, I passed by the voodoo shop. Through the open door, I saw the priestess. She waved, giving me a knowing smile. I still didn’t understand how she recognized my condition, but she did. She didn’t ask if I’d followed the directions she’d provided for the gris-gris bag, and I was thankful. Honestly, it was on my list of things to do. I needed to give it a shot. I’d ask Jennifer to help later. After all, it was her idea in the first place. The priestess stepped out from the shop.
“You’re not wearing the amulet.”
Busted.
“Have you used the gris-gris bag?”
The expression on my face probably gave her the answer without me saying a word. “Not yet,” I managed.
“I know you didn’t want to come into my shop, but you should try the items I gave you.”
“I will. Nothing against you or your store, but I accepted the curse years ago.”
“No, not really.” She moved her hands when she talked. The bangles on her wrists rattled. “You believe the curse can be broken and that’s half of your battle. Now you use the gris-gris bag and amulet, you hear?”
I nodded. “You said to beware of those who lurked in the shadows. Do you know who is following me? The werewolves?” I whispered.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know. This person you shouldn’t trust watches you. Use the gris-gris and it will help.” She nodded, then turned and entered the shop, leaving me standing on the sidewalk. I watched her walk away for a second then hurried on past.
Martin sat across the street in his car. I glared at him, warning him not to come near me. He opened his car door and climbed out, but then stopped in his tracks halfway across the street.
The death stare apparently worked in letting him know he wasn’t welcome on the trip. I took my time strolling down the street, studying the buildings and contemplating the priestess’s words. I saw them every day, but I never grew tired of their beauty. Overhanging balconies spilled pools of mysterious shadows along the old street. I weaved through the crowd, soaking in the details and the magical feeling around me. It was nice to have time to reflect on the madness in my life. Okay, perhaps nice wasn’t the right word. I wished the madness wasn’t there, but it did allow me time to ponder the situation, nonetheless.
As I continued down the sidewalk, I glanced over my shoulder. Martin followed a few steps behind. Apparently my evil glare wasn’t so intimidating after all.
“I thought I told you not to follow me,” I said over my shoulder.
“Just doing my job.”
“Can’t you do your job from a distance?”
“I thought this was a distance.”
“You’re practically riding piggyback on my shoulders. Back off. I don’t want to see you on my walk back to the office. If you must follow me, hide.”
He stopped on the sidewalk and held his hands up in surrender.
“Thank you,” I said and kept walking.
People sat at the little wrought-iron tables in front of the café. I maneuvered around them and entered. My stomach rumbled as I perused the menu. I picked up a roast beef on rye sandwich with a Diet Coke and headed out the door back toward the office. With my little bag of food in hand, I made my way down the street.
A strange sensation washed over me. You know the feeling you have when someone is watching you? I felt as if eyes scrutinized me. I continued on my way without panicking. Martin was probably staring. My muscles tightened—the feeling wouldn’t go away. I became aware of footsteps behind me. That alone wouldn’t be strange, but when I turned around to see who had the squeaky shoes, the two men following me gave me the heebie-jeebies. They seemed to be trailing dangerously close. Too close.
With my senses on full alert, I couldn’t help but pick up my pace. The sooner I got back to my building the better off I’d be. Their black suits matched. Both with crisp white shirts and dark ties. Their tinted sunglasses concealed their eyes so I couldn’t read their emotions. I couldn’t discern if they meant me harm—but I was guessing yes. They picked up their pace when
I did. Moving with purpose, they fell into synchronized step behind me. I sure as hell didn’t want them following me back to my place. But did they already know where I lived? The clickety-clack of my heels, mixed with the sound of men’s dress shoes on the pavement, only served to increase my apprehension. In a panic, I began to sprint—or attempt to sprint—in my twist-my-ankle pumps. I put all of my effort into it. What possessed me to wear heels that high, I had no idea. I trudged on,
in spite of the searing pain the shoes inflicted. I glanced back several times. By the looks of the two, I swear they could have passed for the men in black. Holy mackerel. Were the feds following me?
The government knew all about us werewolves, but they tried to hide it from the public, just like the UFO business. Why in the world would g-men follow me? I had nothing to offer them. No. No. I needed to calm down. The men were of average height, one with salt-and-pepper hair and the other with strawberry blond. The redhead looked familiar. They walked in unison—a steady rhythm to their footfalls.
I panted. I ran. Then I panted and ran some more.
Glancing over my shoulder, I watched the men hurry to keep up. The suits restricted their stride. They were having a tough time sustaining my pace.
Schmucks.
Then I remembered where I recognized the redhead from: the voodoo shop. What the hell?
People stared as I zigzagged through the street, trying to lose the strange men. An elderly man stepped out in front of them. His cane swooped out just as they passed by, nearly knocking the heavier one down. He scrambled to his feet, and the other suit pushed the old guy down in retaliation. The bastards. My arms flailed about as I sprinted along. I might run fast, but I never said I looked good while doing it. I managed to keep my bag of food clutched securely in my hand, which made me happy. I needed beef, quickly. Much more at my current pace and I might as well head straight to the hospital. My energy was drained.
In the distance, I recognized the alleyway that led directly to my office. One thing I knew for certain before turning onto the street, I had to gain distance and hide from the suits. If only real life were like the movies, I’d have had a few trash cans to throw into their path, stopping them from laying their dirty hands on me. What the hell could they want, anyway? Just my luck, I probably had been tagged for some sort of crazy government experiment. They’d have to kill me first.
A group had gathered on the street just ahead. The small crowd was my only chance to lose the suits and I had to go for it. I ran toward the group. Moving as fast as I could. I reached into my purse and grabbed the first thing my hand found—a tube of lipstick. Looking over my shoulder, I tossed it toward the redhead. Missed. What can I say? I didn’t have any other weapons—it was lipstick or nothing. My breath came in quick pants.
“Hey, slow down,” I heard as I whizzed by.
People stared. I guess it’s not every day you see a woman in heels running away from two men. Didn’t anyone care to help me? Passing the group slightly, I slowed to a walk right in front of them. Wow, did I ever get some strange looks with that move. My heart lodged in my throat. I couldn’t handle stress of this magnitude. When the group made it to the alley, I dashed to the side and ran like hell. One lady in the group asked another if I was nuts and what was wrong with me. If she only knew. The pain radiating in my side let me know my running would have to end soon.
My ears picked up echoes of what sounded like footsteps nearing the alley. They were hot on my trail and not far behind, at all. One misstep on my part and they’d catch me. Gauging their distance, I didn’t think I’d make it to my apartment in time, so I did what I had to do—what any girl would have done.
I ran up the stairs. The door sat wide open to the cave-like space that creepy-neighbor-guy called home. All right, the place wasn’t literally a cave, but it was definitely disturbing—to match his personality. A serial killer wouldn’t want to call this place home. I wasn’t sure which was worse, being chased my men wearing dark glasses and evil smiles or the numb-nut next door. But without another thought, I jumped in, slamming the door shut behind me. Outside the sun shone brightly, inside his space loomed dark and dreary. In the tiny living room sat an old sofa and one small table with a lamp. A faint glow emanated from the otherwise dark corner.
“Well, well, well. Come on in, sweetheart. It’s about time you came around to see your sweet daddy. You’re looking mighty fine today.” My neighbor appeared from his hallway.
Sweat glistened from every pore on his face and even the top of his bald head. I could see it from across the room. Slimeball.
“Shut up. You are not my sweet daddy, as you so eloquently refer to yourself. I just need to hide out in here for a second and then I’ll be gone.”
“Hey. Is that any way to treat someone in his own home? You came here and I expect to be treated with respect. You’re not being very neighborly.” He moved closer to where I stood.
As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. I was in his house. Although that didn’t change the fact he was a sleazebucket.
“Sorry, you’re right. But I’ll be out of your hair in just a second,” I said through gritted teeth. Bad choice of words on my part as I reevaluated his baldness.
“You can stay in my hair as long as you’d like, baby. And any other place you’d like to stay, for that matter.” He leered at me with his dark-as-coal eyes and licked his dry, cracked lips.
I felt my gag reflexes kicking in. Good thing his carpet already looked nasty, because I might hurl any second, adding to the stains on the rug.
He inched closer, and in one swift shove of his arms, pushed me against the door. Fan-freakin’-tastic. His fat belly protruded, unintentionally reaching out and touching me. Thankfully, I hadn’t eaten my lunch yet. My stomach churned with the slightest touch from him, but I was able to control my queasiness. As he pinned me against the wall, I realized he was stronger than I expected. But I didn’t worry. I could take him down if I had to—one kick to his nether regions would do it. When backed into a corner, I’d come out fighting. His breath drifted across my face, worse than anticipated. His smell percolated in the air—a mixture of oil and skunk.
“I suggest you back away from me right now unless you want to lose your balls.” My tone remained calm and unruffled.
His fat cheeks hovered millimeters away from my face. I enjoyed being near him like I’d take pleasure in a colonoscopy. He clenched his fists at his sides.
“And you can unclench those paws of yours too.” With both hands, one clutching my food bag, I shoved using the full force of my body. His eyes widened. I guess he was surprised I had that kind of strength. He landed on the wall across from me.
When he regained his footing, he held up his hands in surrender. “No need to fight, babe. I’m a peaceful kind of guy.”
Moving to the other window, I ignored his confused stare. I wasn’t sure which was worse: Phil or the unknowns outside. Pulling the dingy curtain back just an inch, I looked for the men. The alley remained empty. I prayed they were gone, because I needed to get away from skunk breath. Giving one last look, I let the fabric slip from my hand and made my way back to the door.
“Thanks for the hospitality,” I snapped.
“Anytime, babe. You’re always welcome in my home.”
Gross. He still didn’t get it. The fact that I shoved him clear across the room did nothing to stop his advances.
I looked both ways before stepping from his doorway back into the alley. I stepped into silence. The coast appeared to be clear. My shoes echoed through the alley, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. A strange vibe circled me. Were they hiding? Watching me? I ran the rest of the short distance, looking over my shoulder every few seconds and then slipped into my front door, slamming it shut so hard the wood rattled. I collapsed against the wall, letting out a breath in relief.
My breathing came out in short pants. I eased the door open just a smidgen to search for any signs of the suits. A few folks strolled by unaware of the lunatics in their midst. I scanned the area and then, as if out of nowhere, they appeared, marching past my building. I didn’t have time to shut the door before they noticed me. Much to my relief, they made no offer to come toward me. Instead, they lowered their sunglasses in unison and glowered at me. Their gleaming eyes glinted in the sun like shiny pennies. Their faces were as cold as stone. Blondie was definitely the one from the voodoo shop. The pair continued on their way, fading into the cro
wd, not looking back. Without a doubt, this was one of the weirdest experiences I had ever encountered. The people on the street never lifted their heads to notice them. How could they be unaware of the strangeness? My hands trembled as I slammed the door.
The foyer was empty. I leaned against the wall and gazed over toward Jack’s office door. It remained closed. Sadness washed over me and replaced the panic. Maybe a couple of days away would give Jack time to sort through his thoughts. He’d realize I was the best thing that ever happened to him and forget all about those pesky threats. All right, perhaps that was a stretch, but it was my fantasy and I was sticking to it. At least he’d wanted to protect me, even if he used Martin to do it. And apparently I needed protection.
With heavy feet, I trudged back to my space. Before I did anything else, I peered out the window. No one lingered outside. A lot of protection Martin had offered, he was supposed to watch out for me. Although I had warned him off. I didn’t need him, anyway. In spite of my nerves, I needed to eat—my energy was drained. My hand trembled still as I unpacked the contents of my bag and spread them out across the desk. I unfolded a napkin and placed it on my lap. How I hadn’t lost my bag of food on my little jaunt through town, I had no idea. A miracle, I guess. I sat at my desk and munched on my sandwich. It felt good to have peace and quiet. My breathing became normal once again.
As I took a sip of my drink, a shrill yell bellowing from outside jolted me. I nearly spit out my soda. The voice sounded familiar and I was almost afraid to look for fear of coming smack-dab, face-to-face with her. The voice within my earshot was Lily’s. I’d recognize that sharp tongue anywhere. I set my drink down and moved into the foyer. The ruckus echoed from the front of the building. As I inched open the door, I saw Lily in all of her full-rage glory. She stood in front of Martin’s car, her hands waved like mad, and she barked at him to get the hell out of there.
Hell’s bells. Please don’t let her come after me next, I prayed. One confrontation for the day was all I needed. I’d already ruined too many of my clothes because of her. Enough was enough. Lily beat on the window of Martin’s shiny black Porsche. He did have a nice car, although that sure didn’t count for much as far as I was concerned. Too bad he didn’t have a personality to match his fancy ride. His face gaped in horror as Lily lashed out blow after blow to his pristine auto. Unless she had a weapon, he’d be all right. How much damage could her fists do? She couldn’t pack a very powerful punch.
