by Tina Gower
“Great. But I don’t want my name on it. You sign. Say it's your case.”
“It’s not my case.”
“Then give it to Wu or Morales or Johnson or Leaf. Put it in the break room and let some mutton who needs the confidence boost take the damn thing. I don’t want it.”
“Gods, what’s wrong with you?”
Kate. Kate was wrong with him. But there were about a thousand different ways he couldn’t go forward the way he’d been before. “I need a pack. That’s what’s wrong with me.”
“But you were doing so well.”
“Where’s the nearest one?”
“Turmoil, but…”
“Okay. I’m going to contact them.”
“You’re going to transfer out?”
“No.” He massaged his temples. “I’ll just…I don’t know yet. I don’t make plans.”
“Is this about the guy we pulled into custody? We’ve gone over this.”
Ian shook his head, stopped when the sensation increased his nausea. “There were two men. I remember two men who looked alike.”
“We have a witness.” Lipski lowered his voice, slow and quiet. Patiently, he described the scene again as if it would change Ian’s mind. “The homeowner said she saw you being attacked and then you cuffed him. She called for help, and when she went back out you were lying on the ground with a metal pipe between you. You only got his one hand on the fence post. He must have got one in before you could get him fully down. This guy doesn’t have any identical twins.”
“They're Liza’s people. We didn’t get them all. They want revenge for stopping their plan at the carnival.”
“Maybe so, but there was only one man the night you got hit. We got him for the B and E—he won’t admit to knowing who Liza is.”
“I could smell her on him. Did he have a coin?”
“No coin, okay? We went over this a few times. Wu thinks the coin might have been a false lead. We’ll work on getting a connection if there is one, but in the meantime, concussions do funny things to the brain. When you first woke up you were asking for us to call your pack.” He said the last with a delicate delivery.
Right. Actually his exact words had been “call hail the pack.” He’d meant to say “Call Hale. My pack.” And the words were jumbled so incoherently and out of order that he'd let Lipski think he was calling for his dead pack mates. Gods, he’d nearly blown it.
Had he spilled the truth, it would have put Kate in an awkward position. Come to him and fulfill her pack promise, betraying herself, or ignore his request. He’d have been disappointed and hurt if she hadn’t come. But what did he expect?
Another reason to jump start this pack-finding mission. He couldn’t let Kate suffer any longer, or risk her getting caught and having a second inappropriate relationship with a coworker on her record.
He held his head together, because it felt like it was coming apart again. “You’re right.” He slapped Lipski’s shoulder. “I’ll rest.”
His partner cleared his throat and slid the paperwork closer, holding out a pen.
Ian pushed it away and crashed into his bed. His bed that no longer held Kate’s smell. Shit. Lipski had washed his sheets. He searched until he found the stuffed dog he used and buried his nose into its fur until he picked up her faint coconut vanilla mixed with the older scents of his pack.
Tonya’s machine oil and mixed nuts from her work at the snack packaging plant.
Jackilynn’s mint and cream from all her handmade lotions.
Marco’s horse hair and leather from work at the stables.
Ben’s Reuben sandwiches.
Jaylee’s metal, rust, and fry oil from converting cars to run more efficiently. She’d even taught Ian.
He knew he had to let Kate go. Just like them.
But not yet.
Ian woke at nightfall. He popped the next dose of pills, changed clothes, and stood outside his house for a few minutes looking for any sign he was being followed. It took longer to focus because of all the drugs. Damn Lipski, why did he have to make Ian’s rebellion against bedrest so complicated?
The tail located, he worked the next half hour to set up his escape. As he crawled out through his bathroom window, he made a note to talk to Leaf about better surveillance tactics.
Walking to Kate’s took over an hour. Since he’d gotten a late start and was still a bit sluggish from the medications, he caught a taxi. Rode it until a few miles from her house, then doubled back in case he’d been followed.
The fact that Lipski had managed to follow him for the last several days meant he could have been followed by others. A theory that didn’t sit well in his gut, considering he’d cemented his connection to Kate not only to HR, but also to their enemies.
Gods, he’d been an idiot.
He grabbed a veggie sandwich at a deli near the bus depot and ate it one agonizing bite at a time. His teeth ached from the pipe kiss to his face a few days ago. Maybe Lipski had merely been warning him to be more careful on his outings?
His phone rang. It was his dads. So nope, that theory was a bust.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Yeah? Yeah? That’s not how we taught you to answer a phone.”
Drew. He’d want to know how his injuries were healing. “I know Lipski updated you on the concussion. The symptoms are lessening.”
“That’s great, but not why we called. Lipski says you’re not yourself.”
His other dad, Tony, cut in. “Don’t beat around the bush. Ask him about wanting to join a different pack. What about the pack he’d told us about a few days ago?”
“Tell dad I can hear him.”
“Ian says he can hear you.”
“Tell Ian that…”
Ian groaned. “Just put me on speaker. I know you think it’s rude, but it makes things easier.”
“It is rude,” Drew said.
“Well, it’s rude to assume that I’m not a werewolf and that I’m like any other person.” Fuck. He held his breath. Blew it out in one long go. “I’m sorry. That was…that was really callous.”
“You’re on speaker,” his dad said in a tight voice.
“We understand you’re frustrated,” Tony took over. Drew couldn’t handle emotional confrontation. “We’re not werewolves. We’re not even shifters. We don’t know what it’s like. But we want to help you. Because we love you and we care about you. That’s all.”
“I have to join a different pack.”
“I thought you’d found someone who filled that need for you?”
“It won’t work. I’m looking at other options.”
“Is there anything we can do?”
He pressed his thumb into the bridge of his nose, the headache knocking at his temples again. “No. There really isn’t.”
“Because we could fly—”
“Dad’s schedule at the hospital is too crazy, and you’ve got other commitments. It’d really be much better if I establish myself into a pack without dragging my dads in to seal the deal for me.”
“I could hand over your mother’s history, her records. That way they don’t suspect—”
“If you can’t prove my biological father isn’t the last shifting werewolf, then you won’t be able to disprove it either. It’s better that people not know I’m adopted. It’s better they not know how much werewolf I really am. Nobody will take an unstable wolf.”
“You’re not unstable,” Drew butted in. “The world just isn’t set up to accept that your needs are different—”
“Those are excuses.” He lowered his voice, taking a gentler approach. His dad wouldn’t let it rest unless he knew Ian would be taken care of and not at risk of going feral. “The other night, we had to take down a wolf. He’d abused the person he was using as pack. I don’t want to become that. Excuses make me into that kind of monster.”
“Damn it, Ian. I didn’t mean it that way.”
There was a scuffle and Tony whispered for Drew to take a walk. He’d handle
it. Ian squeezed his eyes shut.
Tony sighed. “You guys always know what buttons to push with each other.”
“I’m not the son either of you envisioned.”
“Oh shut up. You’re the son we wanted more than anything. You forget, kid, we had to fight the system to keep you. The court wanted to place you into a werewolf foster home.”
It wouldn’t have been a family, just a series of pack set-ups that rotated in and out. It created more problems than it solved, Ian had seen that first-hand. His dads had been the better option, especially given the extra attention he needed.
Just give us a call when you need us. We'll visit in a few months. I’d like to see you settled. If not, we get involved. Got it?”
“Noted.” He’d been given a deadline. Not that it mattered. If he wasn’t settled in that timeframe, he’d be feral. That much he knew.
They said their goodbyes. His other dad returned from his mandatory de-steaming and they ended on a high note.
He hung up the phone, set it on silent, and shoved it deep into his pocket. Having reached his favorite spot to keep watch on Kate’s apartment, he settled in the grassy patch between the two apartment buildings across from hers and watched her silhouetted figure dancing through the window. He tried not to look, like spying on her was the equivalent to staring directly into the sun, but like a fool he did it anyway.
A familiar scent drifted his way and he sneezed. “You might as well come out. I know you’re there.”
Kate’s cousin stepped forward from between two cars, nose in the air. “I wasn’t hiding. It’s not my fault your super power is that you can smell me coming.” She thrust a basket of baked good at him. “Here.”
“I don’t want it.”
Her mouth hung open. “You’ve taken the last three I’ve left. Along with the ice bags.”
“It feels like you’re fattening me up for some feast.”
“Ha! If you think that, you know nothing about cooking. Your meat would be too tough. No fat, no flavor.” She set the basket on the ground at his feet. “Why are you out here? We know each other too well to play games.”
“We don’t know each other at all, and I’m not the one playing games.”
“Do you think I’m dumb? Come on. Why are you down here when you could be up there?” She motioned toward Kate’s apartment.
“I don’t belong up there. Down here I can protect her better.”
“Protect her from what? From you?”
He barred his teeth. She’d hit a little too closely to the truth. “I’ll take the damn basket if you’ll leave me the hells alone.”
“No.” She snatched the basket up. “If my cousin is in danger, I’d like to know. I can’t protect her if you leave me in the dark.”
“The less you know the better.” Last thing he needed was Liza’s men after both the Hales. He could barely keep track of Kate, and Ali was a lot more squirrelly. She’d be a liability.
“Famous last words, underestimating a Hale. You’re making a mistake.” She glanced up at Kate’s window. “More than one mistake.”
“So first you tell me to get lost and leave your cousin alone, now you’re all about encouraging me to go up there and…” He was glad she couldn’t see him blush in the dark. “She doesn’t think of me like that. If she did, it would be a different story.”
“Would it?” Ali pressed her lips tight and tapped her finger to her chin. “You know, for a werewolf you’re awfully shitty at reading emotions. Kate’s walls are closed off for a reason. She’d never make the first move. And it looks like you won't either.”
“She doesn’t want me to. I’m respecting her wishes.”
“Fine. Respect her wishes. I’m just saying that you don’t know her true wishes. You have the ones she says she wants.”
He tightened his jaw. “Well, as someone who’s constantly being told how to run his own life, I maybe see where’s she’s coming from. Her words align with her body language and forcing anything more would be a definite line crossed. So back off.”
She let out a little grunt. “You both frustrate me.” And she dumped the contents of her basket, a dozen wrapped lemon cookies, all over his lap. “Enjoy your midnight snack.” She marched off, mumbling about how she shouldn’t have even tried to be nice to a wolf.
He unwrapped a cookie and took a bite. Kate had said she’d be his pack until he found a new one. And with the decision to call Turmoil in place, he’d be safe to have a few last moments with Kate. You know, maybe he could climb that tree.
Unfortunately, Kate’s cousin marched right up the stairs and into Kate’s apartment, giving him the evil eye from the window right before she drew the blinds.
He had to get into a pack. Kate didn’t sign up for the wreck that was his emotional health. He’d get right on that, transition himself over to somewhere, to someone who knew the drill. Kate would be much safer not involved with an unstable werewolf cop.
He’d decided. His gut twisted at the finality of it, as if his body revolted to the idea. But damn it, he’d do it. He’d do the right thing.
Maybe tomorrow.
Definitely tomorrow.
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Click to the end of this ebook for a sneak peek at Conditional Probability of Attraction, book two in The Outlier Prophecies series.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to the series readers and your continued support. I’m loving the reviews and letters and reactions to each installment. I read through the nice notes over and over—It really does make me write a lot faster!
Huge thank you to my husband for battling Photoshop with me. It’s not really economical to produce a novella, but I wanted so badly to get this out there we decided to brave the waters of design to make it possible.
And to a super amazing editor, Stewart Baker. Thank you for stepping in and editing Big Bad Becker on such a tight timeline. All those paragraph re-arrangements made it a much stronger story. Becker’s voice is more consistent. And yes. Okay, Ali does get her own story, but thanks for hammering in that need in the Track Change comments.
About the Author
Tina Gower grew up in a small community in Northern California that proudly boasts of having more cows than people. She raised guide dogs for the blind, is dyslexic, and can shoot a gun or bow and miraculously never hit the target (which at some point becomes a statistical improbability). Tina also won the Writers of the Future, the Daphne du Maurier Award for Mystery and Suspense (paranormal category), and was nominated for the Romance Writers of America® Golden Heart® (writing as Alice Faris). She has professionally published several short stories in a variety of magazines. Tina is represented by Rebecca Strauss at DeFiore and Company.
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Conditional Probability of Attraction~Sneak Peek
Gre
tchen calls me into her office halfway through the day. Inside, I’m cheering that I’ve made it this far without incident. Outward, I’m a wreck. Slightly disheveled…okay, my shirt has come a little untucked and my glasses got a little bent inspecting the shark tank at the last client site, but this is too far gone even for me.
She must notice my unraveling and that’s the reason she’s calling this little boss-employee trust circle powwow, or whatever this is. Damn her office for being the first one right after we walk in from the elevators and through the front secretarial desks. Her big corner office has windows facing out to the mini cubicle farm in the center filled with interns and entry level actuaries, so there’s no possible way to sneak by to get to the investigative offices, of which there are two. Mine and Miles, across from each other, banished to the back corner alcove.
No way in or out except by the walk of shame in front of Gretchen’s all too knowing gaze. It’s so management can inspect who comes and goes and when. I attempt to hide behind a cool gaze and pop my head in, like I’m only here to update her and no need to call me in for a full sit-down.
I grip the door, praying that she let’s me off the hook I’m dangling from. “Got it all under control with the Haust case. He agreed that, given his risk for a shark attack death increased after installing the tank, he should seriously consider giving up collecting deadly exotic aquatic animals. So you can call off the insurance guys.”
My boss flashes me a smile as she looks up from some paperwork and motions for me to take a seat.
Okay, damn it, so much for the easy run-by-the-office-update.
I slowly walk to her fabric mesh overstuffed chair. The one that envelops its victims like a Venus flytrap. There’s a light flute music recording in the background. I’m treated to Gretchen’s side-profile as she tap-taps an email. I relax into the chair like I’m in no hurry to get this over with, taking the opportunity to discreetly tuck my shirt in, run a hand to catch any flyaways from my bun, and straighten my glasses. They tilt back on my face, remaining a fraction askew. I want to rip them from my face, except I need them as a security blanket, not so much to see. My prescription isn’t that major. And my contacts have been itching my eyes. I wonder if I’m allergic to werewolves.
