by Terry Spear
When they reached the bedroom, he dumped her bags on the floor and pulled out his phone.
She yanked off her sweater and threw it at him.
Grinning, he caught it, got hold of his brother, and said, “Hey, Eric, we’ll be there a little later than we planned.”
“Gotcha.”
CJ ended the call, tossed the phone and Laurel’s sweater to the foot of the bed, and tackled his playful mate, pinning her to the mattress before he began kissing her. He loved this. She was still too dressed in her jeans and bra, but he loved her playfulness and wanted to draw out the fun. He was glad they were back to this stage in their new mating.
Her heart was beating faster, her green eyes dark and sultry, her mouth curved in a half smile as she began yanking his shirttail out of his jeans. And all that sexy she-wolf was his. His mate. His love.
The room was cool, but rubbing his body against hers, his jeans against hers, with the heat building between them, he felt like every cell was on fire. He breathed in the tangy, citrusy scent of her, the sweetness and spiciness.
Her breasts rising and falling, she breathed him in just as eagerly. Her hands fumbled with his buttons, while he rubbed against her jeans-covered mound, wanting to savor the sensation of all her softness pressed against his hardness.
Burning desire flooded every bit of him as he ached to fill her with his cock, but he took it slowly, unfastening her bra—glad it unsnapped in the front—and pulling the lace aside so he could ply her nipples with his tongue.
When he mouthed her, she groaned a little. She tried to yank his shirt off. He quickly pulled it off and tossed it aside.
She slid her hands up his chest, her touch warm and tender. She ran her palms over his nipples. He groaned a little at how sensitive they were with the silky contact.
She smiled wickedly, then wriggled her hand between them to stroke him through his jeans. Not to be outdone, he moved a little off her so he could do the same through her jeans, the fabric molding to her clit.
But with his move, she started to tackle his belt, trying to unfasten it. He rolled off her and unbuckled it. But then he realized he hadn’t even taken off his boots and let out a frustrated groan.
She laughed and removed her jeans and her bra, then got on the floor and began untying his bootlaces.
He tangled his fingers through her satiny red hair, loving the soft feel of it. She made him hot just with her fingers untying his laces, the anticipation killing him. He wanted to help, but he wanted to savor this too.
After she tugged off his boots and socks, she slid her hands up his jeans-covered thighs, a wickedly devious smile playing on her lips and in her eyes. Her thumbs stroked up his cock, already rock hard and ready for action, the erotic sensation making it throb with pent-up need. She peeled his jeans down, and he rose from the bed so she could finish pulling them off.
And again she ran her hands over his erection straining against his briefs. “Hmm,” she said and began stroking.
He quickly slipped his hand inside her panties and began to rub her sweet spot, which made her melt against him. It was time. He slipped off her panties and she did the same with his briefs, admiring his cock as it sprang forward. Smiling, he pulled her onto the bed and began to stroke her in earnest.
Enough foreplay; he was ready for the whole, sweet deal. Her mouth opened to his, their breaths mingling, before he pressed his lips against hers. Deepening the kiss, he continued to stroke her, enjoying the way she moaned at his touch, arching her back and pressing against his fingers. She was so tense, so wet and ready for him.
“Oh, CeeeJaay,” she said in a half groan, half whisper.
He pushed his cock into her wetness, deep, plunging, pulling out nearly to the end and lunging in again. Her hands ran over his arms, his waist, her body supple and soft and welcoming.
He was glad they had this time together, to love as mated wolves loved each other. They needed this. He needed this.
She jacked him up, made him crave her touch, and sent him rocketing to the ends of the earth, and then he released deep inside of her and felt his wolf half collide with the moon, his human side sizzling in the sun.
He continued to pump into her until he was spent, drained, and so happily satiated. Collapsing on top of her to give her a hot embrace, he said, “You’re everything to me.”
She wrapped her arms and legs around him, kept him seated to her, and smiled up at him in a dreamy, sexy way. “Do…you think your brother will mind if we take a little longer?”
CJ smiled at her, loving her.
After a nap and another quick bout of lovemaking—they were “newlyweds,” after all—they finally dressed and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
“Okay. Do…you want me to make us lunch and you can work on the pan soaking in the cold water?” she asked, her hand on his.
“Sure, I can do that.” They shared another blissful tongue-tingling kiss, and then he began to scrub the burned crepe off the pan from the morning’s breakfast disaster.
She made them tuna sandwiches and pulled out of a jar of pickles. “I was so disappointed that we didn’t find any hidden niches in my aunt’s furniture.” She paused as she forked some pickles onto their plates. “I wonder if we could find the cabinetmaker.”
CJ finished scrubbing the pan and rinsed it. “Possibly someone else in the pack would know who the initials belonged to. Maybe he made furniture for some others.”
“I’ll have one of my sisters take a picture of it and send it to Darien, Peter, and you.”
CJ smiled a little at her.
She knew what he was thinking. This was the first time she was asking the pack to search for clues. She had finally accepted that she was part of the pack. Though she thought that had been obvious when she had mated CJ. Still, contacting Darien and not doing everything on her own definitely signaled a change.
CJ set the pan on a board to dry, then poured some chips onto their plates.
She sighed, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him. “Okay, let me get this done, then we can eat.” As soon as she texted her sisters, Meghan sent back a picture of the cabinet that Laurel then forwarded to Darien, Peter, and CJ.
Before CJ could pull out his phone and look, Darien called her.“Thanks, Laurel. I believe that belongs to Elroy Summers.”
“Is he related to Jacob Summers, the electrician?” She was about ready to tell Darien how Jacob had already looked over the furniture and hadn’t located anything.
“His father, yes. That’s why Jacob knows how to create furniture, but he really didn’t care to do it and instead went into the electrical business, to his father’s dismay.”
“Okay, so can we speak with Elroy?”
“He’s deceased, I’m afraid.”
Figured. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. If you come up with any other ideas, feel free to run them past me.”
She ended the call and she down to eat with CJ.
“No luck?” CJ asked.
“Darien said it was Jacob’s father’s work. But that he’s deceased.”
CJ rose from his chair, surprising her, then pulled her from her chair and hugged her tight, and she loved him for it. “We’ll learn the truth sooner or later.”
* * *
For hours, Laurel, CJ, and his brothers combed through all their dad’s stuff in the boxes—piles of clothes and knickknacks, books, kitchen stuff—all sitting around the basement, each sorting carefully through everything.
Laurel so appreciated them for it, for taking the time and caring when they could very well find something that implicated their father in her aunt’s disappearance.
Eric was sifting through every article of clothing, checking all the pockets and folding the clothes neatly in another stack in one corner of the basement after he’d finished with them. “If no one objects, I’m donating all his clothing to charity once we’re through with it.”
“Agreed,” Sarandon said.
Brett and CJ con
curred.
Brett was sorting through kitchen items and stacking them in another pile. “I suggest we dispose of all this stuff in the same way.”
Everyone agreed.
“I wonder if Dad’s old furniture had any secret compartments,” Brett added.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him.
“Probably not. Just a thought,” Brett said.
“We sold all of Dad’s furniture at auction because none of us had room for it or any interest in hanging on to it,” Eric said. “Besides, it was new stuff. I doubt any of it would have had secret compartments.”
“Except for that old chest with all the drawers that belonged to our grandfather. I kept that,” CJ said. “I’ll check it out tonight.”
Laurel found a picture of what looked like the boys with their mother and father. They were all smiling, and that made her smile. She set it aside and had begun sifting through men’s jewelry—tie tacks, an old pocket watch, and cuff links—when she came across a locket. At once, a chill raced up her spine.
What were the odds that Sheridan’s mother, or maybe his wife, had owned a locket just like the ones her mother and aunt owned, with a tree of life etched into the metal? Though most wolves didn’t wear jewelry because they didn’t want to lose it if they had to shift and leave their clothes behind, her mother and aunt had always kept the pictures of each other close to their hearts. She realized then that CJ had never talked about his mother. Nor had she discussed hers with him.
Barely breathing, her fingers trembling, she prayed it wasn’t her aunt’s locket as she opened it. And saw what she feared she’d see—her mother and aunt’s pictures when they were sixteen. Suddenly Laurel felt light-headed. She gasped. The room had been quiet, so the brothers must have heard her. CJ was on his feet in an instant and headed for her. Tears filling her eyes, she stared at the picture of her mother and aunt. Though they were twins, they looked so different. She couldn’t believe Sheridan would have her aunt’s locket, and she felt sick to her stomach.
“Laurel.” CJ rubbed her back as he saw the color completely drain from her face and knew she’d found something that belonged to her aunt. But when he looked down at the pictures in the locket, Laurel’s hand trembling, he was confused. “Ellie?” The one woman was the spitting image of her.
“Clarinda and my mother, her twin sister, Sadie,” she whispered. “Ellie looked just like Mom when she was that age.” She looked up at CJ with tears in her eyes, and his heart went out to her. She was worried how they would feel about going through their father’s things. And now this. “Why would your father have this? My aunt always wore it. My mother had a matching one, and when she died, she was wearing it when we buried her.”
CJ swore under his breath. If his dad had anything to do with Laurel’s aunt’s disappearance, he’d have wanted to kill the bastard himself, if he’d still been alive.
His brothers had stopped sorting through their father’s effects, red-faced and looking as angry as he felt.
“I want to go for a run.” Laurel stood.
“We’ll keep looking through his stuff,” Eric assured her.
“Yeah,” Brett said.
Sarandon nodded.
“I’ll go with you.” CJ knew where she wanted to run. And he suspected she had to get away from anything to do with his father for the moment. Did she believe the white wolf might come to them? He didn’t think it would.
They grabbed their coats, and he walked her out to his truck. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It…it was just a shock to find it there. That’s all. I don’t want to speculate on why. I…I don’t want to think about it.”
CJ couldn’t imagine one good reason why his father would have had her aunt’s treasured possession. “I’m sure we won’t find anything in the area of the pit, if you’re thinking we’ll locate any clues. We’ve had tons of men out there searching for any evidence.”
“I just want to see it.”
“All right.” He didn’t want to get her hopes up. And he wanted to talk to her about how she was feeling about things—the necklace, his father, him. He didn’t want anything to come between them over this.
She zipped the necklace into a pocket of her coat, and then they drove as close to the pit as they could and parked. Then they stripped, leaving the clothes in the truck, locked it, and shifted.
CJ had planned to lead the way because he thought he could find the pit again.
But she suddenly veered off in a different direction. A couple of years back, some of their teens had survived a fall from the cliffs that were located in this direction, and he sure as hell didn’t want her getting anywhere near them.
He chased after her to head her off, until he saw what she must have seen—wolf tracks in the crystallized snow. He smelled the air—crisp, clean, fresh, pine-scented air. A rabbit, deer, no other wolves except for the pack members’ scents. How many had come after him? Dozens.
The tracks could have been from any of the wolves searching for clues. Except for one thing. These were fresher tracks. Still, anyone could have come back and began snooping around.
Then Laurel stopped and was staring at something in the woods. He looked to see what she saw. A wolf. White. And female, he thought, because of her smaller stature. She was a long ways from where they were.
They chased after her, but when they reached a snow-covered dirt road, they witnessed a blue truck taking off, the windows so tinted that they couldn’t see the driver. But this time CJ got the license plate number and smiled a little.
Chapter 20
As soon as CJ ran the license plate number and got the name of the vehicle’s owner, CJ and Laurel headed for Green Valley, where Ryan McKinley and Carol, his mate, ran the wolf pack. Green Valley wasn’t wolf run, but Ryan and Carol were working on that, modeling it after Silver Town. When CJ learned who the truck belonged to, he called Ryan, putting the call on speakerphone so that Laurel could hear everything that was being said as they drove to Green Valley. Ryan was a private investigator, so he could help them clear this matter up if they couldn’t on their own.
“Okay, so you’re saying the sweet little lady who owns the local candy shop, Pamela Houser, has been running through your territory as a white wolf? Yes, she’s white. Not Arctic though. I don’t understand the trouble,” Ryan said.
Good leaders stuck up for their pack members, and CJ expected as much from Ryan. “She’s been hanging around an area where we found a skeleton—a male who fell through a deadfall. We want to question her to see if she knows anything about Warren and Charity Wernicke’s disappearances while they were operating the Silver Town Inn. Can you hold her there for questioning? We’ve got a lot of unanswered questions, including some concerning the disappearance of Clarinda O’Brien, aunt of the MacTire sisters who now run the hotel.”
“Will do. Call you back as soon as I have confirmation. We’ll meet at my house. She really is the sweetest woman.”
“Thanks, Ryan. We owe you big-time on this.”
“You’re welcome. Anything we can do to help.”
When they arrived at the McKinleys’ house, Ryan’s sister, Rosalind, invited them inside. Lavender candles on the spruce-decorated mantel scented the air as a warm fire glowed.
“Would you like some peppermint mocha?” Rosalind asked, smiling cheerily.
“We don’t want to put you out any,” CJ said at the same instant that Laurel said, “I’d love it.”
He smiled at Laurel, glad she was not overly anxious about this. Or, maybe she was and this was a way for her to relax a little.
Rosalind asked CJ, “Are you sure? It’s as easy to fix one as it is two.”
“Sure, thanks.”
CJ and Laurel took a seat on the blue-and-white couch and waited for Ryan to arrive with Pamela.
His mate, Carol, was at the clinic working as a nurse. Rosalind brought them cups of peppermint mocha decorated with red, white, and green candy canes while they waited.
“They’ll be here shortly,” Rosalind said, looking concerned. She motioned to the greenhouse out back. “I’ve got some orders to deliver, if you don’t mind me running off.”
“No, go ahead,” Laurel said, then took a sip of her drink. “And thanks so much for the peppermint mocha. It’s delicious.”
“You’re so welcome. Season’s been busy. Have to deliver some more poinsettias.” Then Rosalind grabbed a coat and gloves and disappeared out back.
CJ took Laurel’s hand in his, but it was ice cold. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, assuming she was nervous about what they’d learn.
She studied the tree near the fireplace, decorated in huge bows, with a red wood-beaded garland, blue and white ornaments, and sparkly blue lights.
“You don’t have a Christmas tree up in your house,” she suddenly said.
Given the circumstances, he was surprised when Laurel brought it up, but he was glad she was thinking about happier subjects. “Um, no. It seemed kind of silly to put one up just for me.”
“We’ll have to put one up now.”
He smiled. “Sure. I’d love to.” Anything to please his mate. He hadn’t even thought about waking up with her on Christmas morning. He knew just what he was going to get her for Christmas though.
She kept drawing in deep breaths, and he squeezed her against his body with reassurance. “It’ll be all right.”
“Right.”
But he knew it wasn’t really. He was trying to be her rock, but he was just as worried about what they’d learn.
As soon as they heard Ryan unlocking the door, CJ stood. Laurel remained seated on the couch. Ryan entered with a spry, white-haired woman, her hair done up in a bun, her blue eyes taking in Laurel and CJ. She looked stern, probably just as anxious to get this over with.
CJ hurried to welcome her, his hand outstretched, wanting to put her at ease. Her hand was as cold as Laurel’s had been.
“Did you want something to drink?” Ryan asked Pamela.
“No, thank you.”
“Unless you need me for anything, I’ll be in my office working on some business,” Ryan said, also trying to put everyone at ease.
