by Cara Adams
The nurse took Sophie back into the First Aid room. Dylan thought Sophie looked pale, but she was a brave woman and sensible as well. Besides, she wasn’t even complaining, which said a lot about her strength of character. She must have been scared when Hamilton attacked her. Assuming it was Hamilton of course. They’d need to get her to identify him when she’d recovered a bit. Likely her head was aching badly right now and she’d need some rest and peace first.
As for himself he foresaw a hell of a lot of walking up and down stairs. They’d need to lock the elevator to prevent anyone escaping in it by snatching someone else’s keycard.
As if Maelor was reading his mind he said, “Cadfael, you stay here as command center. Keep the glass doors locked and the elevator locked. Put your own swipe card somewhere someone won’t find it easily. That means the only way anyone can get out of the tower is through the stairwell and they’ll have to walk all the way down to this floor to exit. You can watch that from Sophie’s desk as well as man the phones for us. I’ll get everyone to report in to you after they’ve checked their area.”
“What do you want me to do?” asked Dylan.
“I’ve told everyone to meet us in the stairwell of their floor. We’ll go up to the top floor and work our way down, locking the stairwell doors behind us as we go.”
Fuck. Stairs. This was so not how I planned to spend tonight. Dylan picked up the bags of now cold and greasy food from Sophie’s desk and dropped them in the trash.
* * * *
Hawthorne and Maelor had been laughing and joking over the menu from The Dragon Palace when Dylan had called Maelor, and Maelor had raced her up to the tenth floor and almost thrown her into Willow’s arms. She understood his need to hurry to find out what had happened to Sophie, but didn’t see why she couldn’t stay in her own apartment. But it seemed no one was listening. Cadfael was just as adamant that Rhion stay to protect her and Willow as Maelor had been that she be watched over.
“As if anything could happen to us here inside the professional suites,” Hawthorne complained to the shut door.
“Rhion, we’ll be fine here together. You should go and help them look for Sophie. She might be hurt,” added Willow.
“And Jackson Hamilton could be hiding in the stairwell waiting for me to go so he can attack both of you. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you,” said Rhion.
Hawthorne still didn’t think his presence was necessary, but since it was obvious the men weren’t going to change their minds she said, “Well let’s eat then. I don’t imagine Dylan will be bringing our meal any time soon. What can we make?”
Willow had been in the middle of preparing tacos, so they finished cooking, ate, and sat around talking and worrying about Sophie and about what could be happening. At one stage they heard people moving outside in the hallway but Rhion wouldn’t let the women anywhere near the door, and they thought it was their own people anyway. Cadfael texted them to say Sophie was safe, although she’d been bashed on the head. He also asked Willow to send a picture of Jackson Hamilton to Eilidh’s cell phone for Sophie to look at to see if he was the man who’d done it.
“Facebook. I didn’t unfriend Bailey deliberately so I could know what he was doing and likely there’ll be a photograph of him on Facebook,” said Hawthorne.
But there were no pictures of either Bailey or Jackson on their profile pages.
“How about the well-being center’s website? Are there any pictures of him there?” asked Willow.
But no, again there were a few pictures of the outside of the building, but nothing of the inside, and no picture of Jackson.
“You know, that’s weird. Some people are careful about promotional pictures. They’d never have a picture of themselves in a T-shirt and shorts, but they’re usually happy to have a professional photograph online. Something where they’re wearing nice clothes they look all pretty,” said Willow.
That reminded Hawthorne that they hadn’t gotten their hair color changed again although they’d meant to. Tomorrow. They must do that tomorrow.
“Didn’t you find the information you needed last time by searching through friends of friends or something like that?” asked Rhion.
“Yes. Here we go again,” groaned Hawthorne.
Hours later they had half a dozen not very clear pictures of him, and one good one. They sent the good one to Cadfael and to Eilidh, asking the nurse if Sophie was feeling okay.
Sophie herself rang back. “I’m fine. I mean, I won’t be brushing my hair tomorrow, but Tylenol is a wonderful thing. And that’s him. The rude man. It’s definitely him.”
“I’m sorry he traced us back here and hurt you, Sophie,” said Willow.
“I’m just glad he didn’t get what he wanted.”
After Eilidh had taken the phone from Sophie, Hawthorne, Willow, and Rhion sat and stared at each other.
“How did he track you down? Who did you give your address to?” asked Rhion.
“Not the neighbors. We just checked they had our cell phone numbers,” said Willow.
“I think only the realtor, in case he needed to send us more paperwork,” answered Hawthorne.
“And the realtor’s name is on the sign out front of the house, so that’s how Jackson would have gotten it. He’d have seen the sign and visited the realtor.”
“He probably posed as a potential buyer,” said Rhion.
“Whatever he did it worked because he got here. But your security thwarted him, although poor Sophie suffered because of it,” said Hawthorne.
“I wish we knew what was going on.” Willow jumped up and walked over to the window, looking out over the city. The view from up here was spectacular, but right now Hawthorne wasn’t interested in looking at the colorful lights far below her. She just wanted Jackson to be caught and her life to return to normal. Every time she thought things had settled down it turned out they hadn’t.
As it got later and later, Rhion suggested that Willow and Hawthorne go to bed, but Hawthorne was too restless to lie down. And she knew Willow felt the same. Even when Maelor texted them to say the professional suites had been checked and were secure, and that the mall was also secure, she still wouldn’t go to bed.
“What does he want? Why is he chasing after me? What is it that’s so important to him?”
“It has to be that you know something he doesn’t want other people to find out. Nothing else makes sense,” said Willow.
“But I don’t know anything about him at all. Bailey didn’t talk about him. Bailey didn’t speak of personal matters at all. And Jackson has to know that if I was going to tell anyone about the shape-shifting wolf I saw that I would have done it by now. He has to have guessed that either I didn’t tell anyone, or else they didn’t care about it. Or perhaps didn’t believe me.”
“That’s true. I can’t see a purpose behind his actions either. But he must have one or he wouldn’t be spending so much time and energy trying to find us,” said Willow.
Rhion spoke very gently. “One of you must know something he doesn’t want people to find out. That has to be the only reason he hasn’t forgotten about you both. Somewhere buried in your memories must be a clue. But I have no idea how you can work out what it is. It might be as simple as seeing him wear a red shirt when he’s told people he never wears red.” Rhion shrugged.
Willow sat at the table. “Come and sit down, Hawthorne. I want you to tell me every single detail you can remember from that party you went to with Bailey when you met Jackson.”
Hawthorne groaned. This was going to take all night. But it wasn’t as if she was going to sleep anyway. “Okay.”
Rhion collected three notepads and gave them each one with a pen. “Start at the beginning. When did Bailey pick you up?”
* * * *
Maelor was finally satisfied that Jackson Hamilton—and he was convinced the intruder had been Hamilton—was nowhere on the premises. He released all the off-duty guards and sent them home, at the same time as rousing the mall
electrician out of bed to install a security camera over the entry to the professional suites.
“It’s four fucking o’clock. In the morning. Can’t it wait ’til a civilized hour?” complained Ieuan.
“Sure it can. As long as it’s operational, tested, and working properly before the mall doors open in the morning to let the staff in.”
“Fucking hell. You’re a slave driver, Maelor.”
But Maelor knew Ieuan would be arriving soon and the extra security would be in place before people started arriving. Apart from that, he couldn’t think of any extra precautions they could take. Because of its purpose, a mall had to be an open and welcoming place, encouraging visitors to come and shop. Security cameras everywhere would discourage people from meeting, talking, and staying around to buy food or other impulse purchases. That, in turn, would be bad for the mall and for all their stores and businesses.
Although likely since he’d discovered he couldn’t access the apartments, Jackson wouldn’t try to enter the professional suites again. He hated to have to say it, but Hawthorne was going to have to stay inside the suites and not go to the fitness center or anywhere else until they were sure it was safe for her to leave. She wasn’t going to like it, but her welfare was paramount.
Maelor stayed with Ieuan as the man worked, handing him the tools he needed and holding the ladder steady for him a couple of times, but mostly just being there because he refused to go home until everything was organized properly.
As he’d guessed Ieuan had it shipshape before seven, and Maelor stayed on, sitting at Sophie’s desk until the relief receptionist, Persia, arrived at eight.
“No matter who it is who wants to go upstairs, their host is to come down and collect them, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dakota is working an extra shift today. She’ll be moving around between the various security teams. If you have even the slightest feeling that something isn’t right, call her.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks, Persia. I’ll be back after I’ve had a few hours’ sleep.”
But could he afford to sleep? He was as tired as hell, but perhaps there was something he still needed to do? Some area of safety he’d overlooked. Was Hamilton just waiting for him to be really tired so he could sneak in and steal Hawthorne away?
Chapter Six
When Maelor had arrived at Hawthorne’s apartment, they’d all fallen into bed together in total exhaustion and slept for hours. Dylan had brought Hawthorne back to the apartment when Maelor had told them the building was secure, but Hawthorne had still been mulling over what she might know that had caused Jackson Hamilton to pursue her. Dylan had tried to be helpful, but he had absolutely no ideas to give her, merely acting as her notetaker in writing ideas down as she thought of them. But it seemed hopeless to him. If she didn’t know what she knew, how could she figure it out? It was all impossibly circular and there was no guarantee she even did know anything. The trouble might have been brought about her having seen the wolf. Which was something else he wrote down. Perhaps they could ask Cadfael how that search was progressing as well.
Waking up tangled around Hawthorne’s body was the best thing ever. Maelor was sprawled on his back, one leg hanging off the edge of the bed. Dylan himself was on his side tucked against Hawthorne, and she was curled into a ball, her knees up near her chest and her chin resting on a hand. She looked cute, and sweet, and adorable. And erotic. Very erotic, even though she was wearing sleeping clothes. They weren’t exactly pajamas, but a tank top and boy shorts kind of outfit in pink. Which was an interesting color choice with her naturally red hair.
Damn, his cock was harder than a rock and her cute little ass only an inch away from his dick wasn’t helping his control at all. He wanted to touch her so bad he could scarcely keep his hands to himself. Finally, as lightly as possible, he stroked a hand over her leg, not wanting to wake her but not able to ignore her either.
She didn’t stir, so he leaned up on an elbow and feasted his gaze on her perfect form. Her skin was pale and lightly pink, flushed with her warmth from sleeping. Her hair was showing its true red color through the fading brown dye. She’d said the previous night she was going to get it colored brown again today, and he knew for her own safety that was a good idea, but he much preferred her as a natural redhead. All curled up as she was now, he couldn’t see her little red bush hiding her cunt, but he’d tasted her there and knew the red was her natural color.
Just thinking about her sweet flavor made his dick grow another inch at least. Damn he wanted her. She was perfection and everything he’d ever wanted all wrapped up in the prettiest little parcel. He didn’t even mind sharing her with Maelor. Their joining together had been casual and haphazard. They got on well together and liked a lot of the same things. It hadn’t really been a very well thought-out premise for planning their entire futures. But then he’d never really thought they would find a woman to share.
Dylan had never been able to work out how he was supposed to romance a human woman, and then, when proposing to her, tell her he was a wolf. It seemed quite wrong to mislead her, yet to tell her his secret would endanger all the people he loved most. Just look how crazy this Hamilton man had gone when someone saw a wolf. That proved conclusively that sharing the pack’s identity could be writing a death warrant for the entire community.
So not being able to be his true self around a woman had meant he’d never gotten really close to anyone. He’d never fallen in love before either. But he did love Hawthorne. He loved her with a deep and abiding passion that he knew time could not destroy. And fucking Hamilton wasn’t going to destroy it either.
He and Maelor had managed to work together to love, to care for, and to protect Hawthorne thus far, and he saw no reason why they couldn’t keep up their joint efforts forever. Maelor was a good man. A man he could respect as well as like. Together they would provide whatever Hawthorne wanted and needed. Right now he was kind of hoping she wanted to be fucked because it was sure as hell what he wanted and needed.
He watched Hawthorne for a long time, noticing every inch of her precious skin, plotting areas he would kiss as soon as he had the opportunity, memorizing the shape of her ears, the curve of her shoulder, the line of her legs. She was beautiful all over, and her personality was lovely as well. Sure she could be sharp-tongued at times. But that was because she had a sharp mind, always thinking and planning and devising new things. He liked that she did and said unexpected things sometimes, and that she was strong enough to stand up for what she wanted. Feistiness suited her and her attitude suited him as well.
Maelor grunted, went to roll over, and almost fell out of the bed. The bed was actually two twin beds pushed together, which should have been adequate for the three of them. But apparently it wasn’t. By the time Maelor had caught himself and pulled himself back onto the bed properly, he was wide awake and so was Hawthorne.
“Sorry,” Maelor said apologetically.
“Before we move in together you can be in charge of buying us a bigger bed,” said Dylan, smiling at his large friend, whose feet barely fit on the bed even now.
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Since we’re all awake…” Dylan leaned over and kissed Hawthorne’s shoulder, then her ear.
“I like the way you think.” Maelor tilted her head back when Dylan finished his kiss, and possessed her mouth. Dylan gently tugged the boy shorts off her legs, and hurried out to the bathroom where he’d stashed some of the condoms. He also saw a jar of lube in the drawer. Once again Maelor had been thinking on the same lines as himself. Wonderful.
He left his boxers in the bathroom and came back to find Hawthorne’s tank top lying on the floor, and Maelor’s head pressed to her breast. That left him her ass. Oh nice. He kneeled at the foot of the bed and coated two fingers thickly with the lube, before teasing around her rosette. Instantly she opened her legs wider. She wanted him. That was great. She really was the most perfect woman ever. It took
a special woman to be prepared to be with two men, and Hawthorne was the ideal match for him and Maelor.
Dylan tried to be slow and gentle as he opened her ass and made her ready for him, but Hawthorne wasn’t paying attention to his timetable. She constantly pushed back on his fingers, driving them deeper inside her ass, and rotated her hips to encourage him to do more.
Maelor was sucking, licking, kissing, and nibbling on her breasts, which she obviously liked, too, but she was pushing them both to move faster all the time. Quicker than he’d ever imagined it would be, he was rolling a condom over his shaft and pressing the head of his cock at her back door. Her muscle ring was very tight, but she finally opened and let him. She was so hot inside. She gripped him so tight he hardly dared to breathe, and the heat was almost enough to blow his mind. He wiggled his way down inside her, until his balls pressed hard against her skin, while Maelor shuffled and inched his way into position as he pushed inside her cunt.
It took them a few moments to get the choreography correct, and then he kept time with Maelor as he pumped into her, and then withdrew, only to thrust deep inside that amazing hot, tight grip of hers all over again.
Dylan kept as much of his own weight as he could on his knees. It was bliss to rest his bare chest along her spine, which he did, but he had to be careful not to squash her. He also needed some space to pace his strokes so they were deep and hard, so he contented himself with petting her skin, nuzzling her neck, and pressing kisses everywhere he could reach.
Hawthorne was an energetic lover. She was constantly wiggling, fidgeting, and touching him and Maelor everywhere and anywhere. He needed to concentrate to fuck her in tandem with Maelor, to make this the very best possible sex he could. But her hands were everywhere, touching and teasing his skin and Maelor’s. She was driving him insane, setting flashes of need bursting from the strangest places on his body, while his cock kept up its measured pace of fucking her.
