by MJ Compton
Luke thought he was going to explode. Simply fly apart. There was no frigging way he was going to show the Internet photos of Abigail to Tokarz, Restin, or anyone else. In fact, he was going to kill whoever posted them, as soon as he forced that individual to take them down. And he’d bet his last byte that individual was Gary Porter. Who was going to die. No more idle threats.
And Abigail owed him an explanation or two, too.
“I don’t want to make any accusations until I know for sure,” Luke said in a calmer tone. There. That sounded reasonable.
“How? DNA testing?” Restin snickered.
Tokarz grabbed Luke’s arm before Luke could try to savage Restin again.
“How about you tell us exactly what set you off?”
Luke pulled out of Tokarz’s grasp and sauntered to the bed furthest away from the door. “Goodnight, guys,” he said as he crawled under the covers. He smelled Restin, so he knew he had the right bed. He closed his eyes, even though he knew he’d get no sleep that night. No sleep again until he’d confronted Abigail about those pictures.
“We’re heading back to Loup Garou,” Tokarz announced over breakfast several hours later.
The roadies grumbled. “I need the extra cash,” one of the drivers muttered. But no one grumbled too loudly. Tokarz didn’t stand for insubordination.
“Is there a problem? Does one of your offspring need braces?” Tokarz asked.
More than a few snickers silenced that complaint.
No one dared ask why. Most of them had heard Luke brawling with Tokarz and Restin. Most of the others assumed Luke was in the throes of mating fever and due to his inferior human blood, couldn’t control himself. And that was one more reason why he wanted to keep his discovery to himself. And if he killed Abigail for deceiving him, perhaps no one would ever know.
“Did you call your mate?” Tokarz asked him.
Luke shook his head. He’d call Granny later. Maybe she could explain what Abigail had been thinking when she’d taken off her clothes for Porter or some other sleazy photographer.
Abby was bored to the edge of screaming out of her mind.
She was tired of drinking Granny’s hideous anti-miscarriage tea. Tired of being in bed. Tired of listening to the howling creatures in the middle of the night.
Gramps had stored Luke’s computer components in the bedroom they expected their grandson to share with his wife. Abby knew about computers because Gary was not only in IT at the brewery, he had a computer-based side gig at home. One she was intimately familiar with. There had been state of the art components in the house since Gary married her mother. If nothing else, she could play solitaire to pass the time.
Abby was on her hands and knees under the desk, trying to reassemble the unit when Luke’s Aunt Macy showed up.
“If Mom sees you doing that, she’s going to have a vampire,” Macy said. “Let me help. Luke always has the best stuff. He never lets me touch it. You get back in bed.”
Macy knew what she was doing. The computer was up and running in no time. “Too bad he didn’t leave you his laptop. You should ask him for one.”
Abby didn’t bother explaining Luke had promised her a new guitar, and that was nowhere to be seen. Sure, whatever instrument he bought couldn’t replace her father’s guitar—even thinking about that brought tears to her eyes—but it would give her something to do.
“Thanks.” Abby smiled at Macy, who sat at the desk and used the mouse to click through files on Luke’s desktop.
She paused at one. “Ancient Ones.”
Why did everyone say that? Abby was about to ask Macy what the words meant when Macy looked at her with shining eyes. Tear-filled eyes. “Your stepfather did this to you?”
Everything inside Abby froze. “Did what?”
Macy gestured at the computer screen.
Abby got out of bed and crossed the room. There, in full livid color, were pictures of the bruising on her face. And her belly. After she’d asked Luke not to photograph that. He must have snapped the shots while she was sleeping.
Fury poured through her, filled every crevice in her body. He was a liar, a sneak, and completely untrustworthy.
“Okay,” Macy said. “Back to bed with you. You look like you’re going to collapse. Are you okay?”
“Luke disappoints me.”
“He disappoints most people.” Macy slipped her arm around Abby’s waist and helped her to the bed. “You’re trembling.”
“I’m really mad at Luke.”
“I like Luke,” Libby said, bouncing into the room. She clutched her Santa Claus pillow, a sure sign she was feeling insecure. “Hi, Macy. Hi, Abby. Remember how Luke bought us the strawberry lemonade at the Moonsinger picnic?”
“I like Luke, too,” Macy said with a smile for Libby. “But he has a lot of growing up to do.”
All Abby could think about was how he’d betrayed her over and over—and they hadn’t even known each other all that long. Count the actual days, and it wasn’t even two weeks all together.
“You need to calm down, Abigail, or Mom is going to come in here with more of her herbal concoctions and force feed them to you.” Macy smoothed the sheet over Abby’s lap. “If I had known things on Luke’s computer were going to upset you, I never would have helped you set it up.”
“I would have done it myself,” Abby reminded her. “Like I was trying to do when you came in.”
“Give Luke a chance. He bears a tough burden, as did my brother. And me, for that matter.” Macy looked sad. “Marcus was lucky with Colette. Luke might not think he’s lucky with you, but the Ancient Ones have their reasons. Me? I’m alone. It’s worse for women.”
“What are you talking about?”
Macy studied Abby’s face. “I take it Luke hasn’t told you anything about . . . our family.”
Abby shook her head. “Is there something I should know? What are these Ancient Ones everyone mentions all the time?”
Macy glanced at Libby, who was playing Free Cell on Luke’s computer. “It’s Luke’s place to explain things to you. He may need some nudging. At least he had the good sense to have you stay with Mom and Dad.” Macy shook her head again. “I’ll talk to Marcus about having a chat with Luke. This isn’t right.”
Abby bit her lip to keep from shrieking everything was wrong with her relationship with Luke. Lies. The only truth was in the child precariously clinging to her womb. She should write a song about jerks who lied and made promises with no intent of keeping their words.
He was just another man who betrayed her.
Luke would have liked to pace the aisle of the bus, but figured that would only get him into more scat with Tokarz and Restin. He didn’t think Parker had ever driven as slow as he did heading back to Colorado. The bus should have flown over the flat desert highway and grumbled only as it climbed the mountains toward Loup Garou. There was no WiFi on the bus; there was only so much Luke could do on his super phone. Including call Abigail. Because he never got her phone number. Because they weren’t mated. The Ancient Ones wouldn’t pair him up with a woman who undressed to have her photo taken then posted online for the whole world to ogle. Maybe masturbate to.
Luke thought he was going to be sick.
He’d been intimate with her. Maybe it was psychosomatic, but he thought his dick was starting to itch.
The bus stopped around seven. Everyone stretched their legs. Caught a fish or two from a nearby stream for supper. The drivers swapped places.
Luke wanted to urge everyone to hurry, hurry. He had far too much time to think about what he was going to say to Abigail. Ask her why she would take off her clothes and pose, touching herself so intimately in front a camera. At least she was alone in the photos, Ancient Ones be praised. How he was going to tell her he found her dirty little secret?
Cool. He needed to be cool, not let her see his fury. Not let her spin the table and accuse him of frequenting porn sites. Because what he did wasn’t the issue. The issue was pictures of her on the Internet. Where any pervert could drool—Luke was as dizzy as if he were chasing his tail.
“You ready to talk?” Tokarz asked before they boarded the bus for the last leg of the journey to Loup Garou.
Luke bared his teeth.
“Well, I’m mated to a human, too—”
“Abigail is not my mate.”
“You’re not fooling anyone, Luke, except yourself.”
Luke thought about stripping and running the rest of the way home, but Tokarz herded him onto the bus.
“I ran into Delilah Garnier a little while ago,” Granny told Abby. “The band cut its tour short. They’re on their way home. I wonder why Luke didn’t call.”
Abby could have given the old woman an earful about her jerk of a grandson, but her mama had raised her better than to bite the hand that was feeding her, even if the food was vile tasting herbal concoctions.
“I wonder if someone is sick. I know I didn’t tell Luke about what happened to you, and I’m pretty sure Macy and Colette didn’t say anything either.”
As if anything to do with her would bring Luke to her side any sooner.
“All Delilah said is Tokarz would only say they were coming home to deal with an emergency.”
So, she wouldn’t have as much time as she thought before she confronted Luke about his treachery. Those photos of her belly. After she’d specifically told him she hated having her picture taken. Especially of her bare skin. She was trying to escape the life Gary had forced on her. Luke was going to find out she wasn’t as much of a pushover as he thought. “How long until they arrive?”
“Delilah said late tonight or early tomorrow.”
“I miss Luke,” Libby said from the desk, where she had graduated to one-suit Spider Solitaire. Playing computer games kept her calm. Maybe Gary should have let Libby use his computer. “He’s nice to me.”
Guilt pinged Abby. Luke had taken Libby in after their mother’s death. Had made sure she was safe and cared for. From the beginning, he’d been sweet to Libby. He’d been sweet to Abby, too, lying through his pretty white teeth the whole time.
She was going to need to finesse this, curb her rage so he wouldn’t retaliate via Libby. Libby was far more vulnerable than Abby was, even if Abby was pregnant. And that, she realized, was her trump card.
Luke’s family cared about the baby. Were obsessed with the thing. Colette came over every day to check on Abby. Macy took her turn sitting with Abby and Libby. Right now, she was teaching the sisters to play backgammon. She was infinitely patient with Libby, who wasn’t catching on as quickly as Abby did. Libby would rather be on the computer, which Macy also helped her with. Macy made sure Luke’s files were password protected. She also rigged something with her parents’ satellite TV to create an Internet connection. Gee. Now Abby could check her Yippee e-mail account to count how many friends hadn’t reached out to her after her mother’s death.
Luke’s family would be on his side in any argument. But they wouldn’t let him toss her to the curb. Not as long as she was pregnant. Not as long as she was the mother of his baby.
If they ever found out about Gary, they might not believe Luke was her baby’s father. Maybe she should try for a DNA test, to prove Luke’s responsibility. She knew the truth; his family might not be so quick to accept it.
She hadn’t been so good about standing up for herself or Libby in the past, but everything changed the moment her mother died. Mama no longer needed to be protected from knowing exactly what she’d brought into their home when she’d married Gary. No more retreating into the “secret place” she’d created to protect her emotions from Gary. It was time to fight back.
The bus rolled into Loup Garou shortly after three a.m. Luke’s eyes burned. He hadn’t slept since seeing Abigail on the Internet. The others had snored their way through Nevada and Colorado but Luke’s gut was in knots.
He was the first off the bus, not bothering with his luggage or his drum kit. Only his laptop made the trip to his truck. He didn’t care how late it was: he was going to his grandparents’ to talk to his wife.
There were plenty of lights on at Gramps and Granny’s. Even in their old age, they tended to keep werewolf hours over human hours. Family lore had it being rough on Granny, but she’d adapted.
Luke didn’t bother to knock. Granny was in the kitchen, stirring some awful-smelling brew on the stove.
“I’ve been expecting you,” she said. “Delilah mentioned the band cut the tour short.”
“Where’s Abigail?” Luke had no patience for niceties.
“In bed, but before you see her, you need to know—”
Luke ignored Granny and stormed down the hall to the bedroom that had once belonged to his father.
A sliver of light showed under the door. Luke pushed open the door without knocking.
Abigail, yellow bruises on her face, looked up. Her eyes widened. She slipped a piece of paper between the pages of the book she’d been reading and closed the cover. Set the book on the bedside table.
Luke narrowed his eyes. “Surprise.”
“I heard you were coming back early.”
“Did you, now?” Luke spoke softly. He looked around the room, noting with surprise the computer set up on the desk.
Abigail must have seen where his eyes landed. “Your aunt set it up. Don’t worry. Macy didn’t undo any of your safeguards.”
How could she sound so normal? How could she be such . . .?
“You got anything you want to tell me?” he asked.
“I’ve had some problems.” Her cheeks turned sunrise pink. “Bleeding. But your grandmother is taking care of me.”
A hitch of fear clutched at his heart. He released it. The baby might not even be his. “That’s what she does.”
They stared at each other across the dimly lit room for several moments.
Abigail finally spoke. “Macy found something interesting on your computer.” There was a bite in Abigail’s tone.
How dare she be pissy with him?
“I told you I don’t like having my picture taken, and yet, there was my abdomen, in all its black and blue glory. How do you suppose that happened, Luke?”
“You don’t like your picture taken?” Luke snorted. “That’s rich, Abigail. Real rich. You’re not the only one who found pictures of you on a computer. Would you like to see what I found on the Internet?”
Her eyes widened. Her mouth gaped. As unlikely as it was, her skin outside of the jaundice bruises turned the color of milkweed fluff.
“Gail’s Bedroom? Sound familiar? Want me to tell you what you were doing?”
“Oh, my God.”
“Your God can’t help you now.” Luke thrust his laptop case onto the bed. “Is that baby even mine?”
“You don’t understand.”
“You’re damned right I don’t understand. Why don’t you explain to me why you would take your clothes off for some scumball photographer so he could take nudie pictures of you to post on porn sites?”
Abigail had trouble breathing. Tears trickled from her eyes, caught the lamplight, and coursed like liquid fire down her cheeks.
“I’m waiting.” Luke snatched up his laptop case and unzipped it. The unit took forever to boot up.
“No.” She shook her head. “No.”
“Yes.” He typed in the URL, and as soon as the picture appeared he shoved it into her face.
“No,” he mimicked. “Yes, Gail.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He grabbed her chin and directed her face toward the computer screen. “Tell me I’m w
rong, Gail.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, wringing more tears from them. She tried to squirm away from him, but he held her firm. She’d have bruises from him come morning.
So fucking what.
“Open your eyes and tell me that’s not you.”
She shook her head. “He told me—” She gagged.
“Who. Told. You. What?”
A sob escaped, but he didn’t care.
“Libby.” She sounded as if she were choking. “He said he was only going to take pictures, and if I didn’t cooperate, he would hurt Libby.”
Luke dropped the laptop. Released her chin. “What?”
Abigail’s shoulders hunched. She drew her knees to her chest. Chin, too. Huddled as if making herself as small a target as she could.
“He said if I didn’t let him take pictures of me, he would sell Libby to the highest bidder.” Her voice was little more than a squeal. “To someone who . . . likes little girls.”
Luke’s blood turned to ice, as if he were swimming in the lake on a January morning. “Who?” His gut knew, but he needed to hear her say it.
Her face shattered. Fell apart before his eyes. She needed a tissue.
“Abby. Who?”
“Gary.”
That name coming from her mouth—she might as well have bitten him in the balls. Luke sat on the mattress next to her. Cupped her face far more gently than he’d touched her a moment ago. And his voice was calmer, too. “Look at me.”
Her breath was erratic, hitching and harsh. When she finally met his gaze, tears intensifying the already vivid blue of her eyes, something exploded in his brain. He dropped his hand. Stood. Stalked out of the room.
Gramps waited in the hall. “Your mate is pregnant and needs—”
“Keep an eye on her. Call Dad and have him keep a close eye on Libby.” Luke kept walking.
“What’s going on?” Gramps asked, but Luke didn’t have breath or time to waste on more words.
