Someone had stuck a flyer under my wipers. I yanked it out and started to crumple it up, but realized it was a note. The handwriting made my stomach knot up. I hadn’t seen that handwriting in five years, not since…
“Tomorrow night, old apartment. We need to talk. Dree.”
Chapter Five
Dreama was back. If she was here, that meant the one who made her was too. He was the leader of their pack. I immediately started thinking of ways to lure him out. Killing him wouldn’t help Dree—Poppa said once they change, they’re stuck like that, having to live as human or beast the rest of their unnaturally long lives. I sure would feel better knowing he was dead though.
The other wolves I hunted were turned by members of my family’s clan, but that one…it was personal. He hurt someone close to Poppa and paid the price. I’m more forgiving than my ancestors—I’m quite content to let the wolves die. I was so caught up in my own little world that when I got back to the shop, I barreled right past Connor. He put a hand on my shoulder and I rounded on him, fist up and ready. I saw his face and froze mid-swing.
“Damn it, Bon. What’s gotten into you? Did you even hear what I said?”
I took a deep breath and cleared my head. “No, sorry. What is it?”
“You have a date tonight. Real nice guy. You’ve been stressed to Hell lately, I thought some R&R would do you some good.”
I felt the veins in my forehead heating up. “So you set me up on a date without even asking if I had plans? Fuck you, Connor. I don’t need your charity dates. I thought this family was done meddling with each other when Mom died!”
Connor’s face went from hurt puppy to angry Scot in a blink. He grabbed my arm and didn’t let go, even as I tried to flinch away. “You take that back, Margaret Jane! That’s my sister you’re talking about. She never meant anything but the best for you.”
His hand dug into me harder. If he clinched any more, he’d leave a bruise. “Connor,” I said as calmly as I could, “you’re hurting me.”
My uncle looked down at his fist like it was some alien organism with a mind of its own. He let go, but the look in his eyes didn’t change. “It’s not my fault she was taken from us, God rest her soul.” He crossed himself. “The one thing Glenna and I always agreed on was we wanted you to be happy. This madness you took up after Poppa passed has brought you nothing but pain. So excuse me for trying to throw a little levity into your life.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “It’s seven o’clock at Ambrosio’s. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’ll say something came up at the shop.”
Connor turned and stalked off to his office, muttering to himself the whole way. I heard “Whit’s fur ye’ll no go past ye.” It was one of Poppa’s favorite sayings when he was frustrated with someone. It basically meant, “Whatever’s meant to happen will happen—it’s not my problem.”
I looked around at the shop. A lady sat by the front door with a magazine trying desperately to pretend she hadn’t seen anything, and our daytime artist was very focused on a sketch for a client. I went upstairs, closed the door and leaned against it. Maybe Connor was right. If this “nice guy” played his cards right, maybe we’d both get a little levity tonight. Who am I kidding? My cycle’s over. He can play any card he likes. I’m desperate enough that I’ll probably still fuck him.
Later that night, I stepped out of the shower and dried off. I had about an hour to get presentable for this mystery guy, so I looked myself up and down. My hair was a lost cause. The humidity in Houston made it a frizzy mess most of the time. I could only tame it into something sensible with a gallon of conditioner and a prayer to Saint Paul of Mitchell. My skin was white enough to reflect light at passing aircraft, and only darkened a little bit on my shoulders and arms from tight clusters of freckles. I had my mother’s wide hips and small but respectable breasts. I kept my pubic mound trimmed but not shaven. I got a kick out of a guy’s reaction when he first realized the carpet matched the drapes. Girl’s got to have a little fun, right?
I padded to my bedroom and dug through the closet. I had to fumble on the top shelf for my “nice” pair of heels. I almost knocked myself out when a huge leather book fell off and slammed to the floor by my feet. I let out a tiny yelp, and looked around like I thought someone might have heard. The thick tome had a dark blue crest with a golden stag on the front. It was Poppa’s Genealogy and History of the Clan Mackenzie.
I picked it up and brushed the dust off of it, then set it reverently back on the top shelf. I knew all the stories in it by heart—Poppa read them to me as a girl every time I came over. It wasn’t until Dreama’s situation that I realized the fanciful tales he told me of betrayal, revenge, and creatures that haunted the moors were real. I’d found out too late to save her.
“Levity, PJ,” I drilled myself with Connor’s words, “For fuck’s sake, levity!”
I retrieved my good pair of heels and pulled out a respectable-but-borderline-slutty dress. They were all some shade of green. I knew what I had to work with, and it was the most flattering color for me. I slipped on everything but the heels and went to the jewelry box on my dresser. I unclasped my silver cross and hung it up, picking the other silver necklace next to it. Three generations of Mackenzie women were represented in my jewelry box—my mother, her mother, and me. I chose Mam’s necklace for the night. It was silver, of course, with a dark teardrop-shaped emerald inset in a Celtic knot pattern. I debated wearing the matching earrings, and decided if I was going to glam it up, I’d go all out.
Before I headed out, I checked that my gun was loaded and stowed it in my clutch. My hand hovered over the far right drawer of my dresser for a few seconds. The moon wasn’t full anymore, but that didn’t mean they went into hibernation. I opened the drawer and pulled out a pen, dropping it into my clutch with a clink. I went down the narrow stairs barefoot, and paused at the bottom to put on my heels.
Connor was at the counter ringing up a customer. He turned to me and whistled. “Bravo, my girl. That’s a bonny lass. Your date’s name is Justin. I hope you have fun.”
“If I don’t, it’s your fault,” I said. He laughed and waved at me as I went out the door. I was on the hunt again, but this time my prey was a little bit easier to handle. Maybe if things went well, he’d be the one giving me a good, hard injection for a change.
Chapter Six
The night was cool, but still damp enough to suffocate my pores. I felt a sweat mustache forming under my nose before I had even reached my car. Oh well, that’s what air conditioning is for.
Ambrosio’s was a fairly new Italian place near Rice Village. It emerged from the over-roasted corpse of a failed chain coffee shop and managed to make a name for itself with a quiet, date-friendly atmosphere. The same couldn’t be said for lots of restaurants in that area—unless of course your idea of a romantic time is standing in a line two blocks deep for gyros and hummus. I parked behind the restaurant in a lot that looked like someone’s converted backyard and walked toward the front. I had just realized I had no idea who to look for when a man in a nice turtleneck and slacks approached me. His eyes were frost blue in the glow from the street lamps, and he smiled like a little boy on Christmas.
“Peggy?” he asked. I did my best impression of a goldfish out of water. Connor had outdone himself this time.
“I’m Justin,” he said, and offered me his arm. I took it and managed to find my voice again.
“Hi,” I croaked, “How did you know it was me?”
He laughed. “Connor called me with a description. Said you were on your way. Plus, I figured there can’t be many gorgeous redheads out tonight.”
He smiled in the most disarming way and lowered his voice. “I really hope you don’t mind that he arranged this. I’m…not really good at meeting new people. Work keeps me pretty busy.”
I wanted to drag him back to my car and rip off his pants. Was I really this deprived or did Connor have surprisingly awesome taste
in men? That last thought had some interesting repercussions, but I decided to go with the first. Easy with the libido, PJ. You’ll scare him off.
“No mind at all. I’ve had a rough time lately myself. Connor just wants me to blow you off. Blow it off—blow off some steam!”
Fuck.
Justin, to his credit, didn’t respond at all to my gaffe and continued to lead me toward the door. Once we were there, he held it open. Did guys like this still exist? Something must be wrong with him. Clubfoot? No. Facial tics? None so far. Axe murderer. That had to be it. Sociopaths can be deceptively charming right up till they lead you to their kill room with the speculum and the band saw and the plastic on the floor.
Jesus, PJ, with an imagination like that it’s no wonder you can’t keep a steady boyfriend.
“After you,” he said. I realized I’d been staring off into space through that whole thought process. I coughed a little bit and went inside. The hostess gave Justin a pager and we found an empty stretch of bench to wait.
“So how do you know my uncle?” I asked. “You don’t look like the usual type we get at the shop.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not much for needles. I don’t have a problem with tattoos, I mean, just don’t like getting poked.”
That makes one of us.
“I patched him up one night after a fight. He didn’t say what happened, but it was kind of a nasty row. I had to give him stitches over his eye.”
A line of waiters and waitresses came out of the kitchen carrying a cannoli with candles sticking out. They sang a horribly off-key rendition of happy birthday, and the general noise level of the restaurant rose to compensate.
“Oh, I remember that,” I spoke a little louder. “Older guy came in drunk at midnight. Wanted a skull and crossbones on his thigh. Connor wouldn’t work on him, and the guy just decked him. Doing stuff for drunks is bad for business. Too many of them come back when they’re sober and want their money back. So you’re an EMT then?”
“Doctor, actually. I’m doing my residency right now in the medical center.”
“So can I fuck your brains out now, or do we still have to eat dinner?” The noise level in the restaurant dropped back to normal just as I said it. Every pair of eyes in a ten-foot radius zeroed in on me. I’m pretty sure my face matched my hair right about then. Justin laughed.
“That’s entirely up to you, but I know I like to go at it on a full stomach.”
A couple of people snickered, and the restaurant resumed its business. I covered my face with my hands. “Yeah, did Connor mention I have the tact of a drunk even when I’m sober?”
My date didn’t have to answer. His smile said it all. I wasn’t usually this…girly around men. What was it about this guy that took all the wind out of my sails? The pager buzzed, and a hostess showed us to our table. It was dark. Pretty much the only light came from a pair of tiny tea candles floating in a frosted vase of water. Justin waited for me to sit down, but didn’t offer to push in my chair. I was a little relieved at that. Chivalry was one thing—treating me like a moron was another.
You aren’t really wowing him with your intellect so far.
“Shut up,” I said.
Justin looked at me over his menu. “Did you say something?”
“No, no. What’s good here?”
He shrugged and folded his menu in front of him. “I usually just go with my standards. Chicken Parmesan is pretty good. Nice and crispy on the edges. Veal piccata is good too, if you don’t mind capers.”
“How is it you’re a doctor but you don’t like needles?” I asked.
“Doesn’t bother me to work on other people. I just don’t like to get stuck myself. It’s probably psychological. My mom is diabetic. I grew up watching her poke herself all the time to check her sugar. It always bugged me that there wasn’t a better way to handle that.”
“So you nobly pursued a career in medicine in the hopes of one day finding a cure?” I hoped my incredulous smirk wasn’t too obvious.
Justin blushed, and I immediately regretted the comment. “It’s cheesy, isn’t it? Sounds like a Lifetime special.”
“No, you’d have to be a woman and have an abusive father or something. You know, can’t have a heroic male figure in those things. Not empowering enough.”
Our waiter came over and took our drink orders. What the hell, I wasn’t out hunting tonight. “Vodka tonic,” I said. Justin ordered an iced tea, unsweetened. Probably doesn’t drink. My initial attraction to him was starting to wane. Choirboys are cute and all, but I get bored easily.
“So, Connor never said what you do for a living,” he said.
“Errand Whore,” I said. He snorted, and I laughed too. “It’s true. I do whatever Connor needs at the time. Sometimes it’s IT help, sometimes it’s the books. I used to work at a call center. Didn’t take.”
Our drinks arrived, and Justin unloaded four packets of sugar into his tea all at once. I sipped my drink and watched. “You can order them with sugar already in there, you know.”
He shook his head. “Not the same. There’s a perfect ratio of tea to sugar. They never get it right.”
Nothing on the menu looked good, so I ordered a chicken Caesar salad. Justin got his chicken Parmesan. I heard my phone buzz inside my bag, so I downed the rest of my drink and excused myself to the ladies room.
Connor had sent me a message. “How’s it going?”
I texted him back. “None of your business. Where’d you find him, a Boy Scout convention?”
“Give him a chance. GTG.” Connor messaged back. I sighed and put away my phone. There was no line for the ladies room, which surprised me. Fridays usually meant waiting at least a half-hour to get a stall. I walked right in. A woman in a high-backed, dark blue dress was touching up her makeup in front of the mirror. I walked by and grabbed the first stall.
“No paper in that one,” she said. “Just FYI.”
I checked—sure enough, just an empty tube. I moved to the next one. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” she said. She was still there when I finished up my business and washed my hands. My hair was a little bit frizzier than when I’d left, but not a total loss. The woman clicked her compact shut and turned to leave. I couldn’t help but watch her. Her hair was up, and she had a dark mark at the base of her neck. A tattoo? You’re paranoid, PJ. I watched her walk out of the bathroom, moving like she had too many muscles in her legs.
Or maybe not.
Chapter Seven
I left the ladies room quickly, but tried not to bring attention to myself. She was gone by the time I made it out. Was she a friend of Dree, come to check up on me? Or had I finally been outed by the wolves as a threat? Considering I hadn’t seen my former best friend in five years, it could be either one or both. Was it really a good idea to meet with her tomorrow night?
The food had already arrived when I got back to the table, and Justin had ordered me another drink. I smiled at that. “Trying to get me liquored up? If you want to play doctor, you just have to ask.”
He laughed, and waited for me to dig into my salad before taking his first bite. “To be honest, I wasn’t sure you liked me that much. I got the impression I was a little plain for your taste.”
Damn, I really need to work on not letting my emotions show. Why is it I can put on a great poker face when I’m hunting, but give me a regular, relatively attractive guy and I’m an open book?
“Or was I right the first time?” he asked. “You’re thinking really hard all of a sudden.”
I shook myself out of my thoughts. “Sorry. No, you’re fine. Mom always wanted me to marry a doctor. Can’t promise that, but I certainly wouldn’t mind fucking one.”
Justin choked on a mouthful of chicken. “You really don’t beat around the bush, do you?”
“No,” I said, “I guess not. Subtle as a jackhammer, that’s little old me.”
At least I’m myself again, and not the bumbling ditz I was earlier. If I’m going to scar
e him off, at least let it be from meeting the real me.
We had a pleasant dinner, and I managed to not embarrass myself in front of the whole restaurant again. I’d completely forgotten about the wolf in the ladies room by the time Justin walked me to my car. It wasn’t like me to lose myself over a guy.
“Well, this is me,” I said. “Where do we go from here? Your place or mine?”
He lowered his mouth to mine for a soft peck, and I pulled him into a full-on kiss. Our tongues met, danced, and found the company agreeable. I almost whimpered when he pulled away.
“Peggy—”
“It’s PJ. No one calls me Peggy.”
He smiled. “PJ, I like you a lot. But I don’t do this sort of thing on a first date.”
“Neither do I, Doc. So now that we’re done lying—” I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into another kiss. He indulged me for a few seconds and then pushed away again.
“Really, I don’t. I’ve done it before, but it always ended badly. I’m sorry.”
Fuck. His inner Boy Scout cock blocked me.
He said goodnight and walked around the building to the other side of the parking lot. I felt the first tingles of a very unsatisfying evening ahead. Connor wasn’t trying to get me laid—he was trying to get me married. We weren’t always on the same page, my uncle and me.
I fished my keys out of my bag and stuck them in the door. The shadow of the car next to mine moved. I didn’t have time to react before a hand was on my mouth. They dragged me into the brush and covered my head with something.
Another set of hands tried to hogtie me. I got a good blind kick in and heard a groan. The hands that held me down loosened, and I struggled to my feet. I ran, ripping the hood off my face as I went. They followed.
Whoever they were, they were fast. I felt them at my back before I could get to the parking lot. A hand snagged my arm and whirled me around. I reacted without thought. My fist went to his kneecap, then his groin. He was huge, so I only managed to stun him. His other hand reached for me and I jammed my thumb into his eye socket. That got him to back off.
Marked Clan #2 - Red Page 3
