Mate's Call (Code of the Alpha)

by Lola Gabriel

  “Mr. Bosley, you may think yourself a princess, but I was talking to Miss Kelly. I would like to hear it from her.”

  Tristan’s already pale face turned crimson as he nudged her.

  “Not guilty, Your Honor,” she breathed.

  The elderly man continued to scrutinize her through half-moon glasses as if trying to assess how such a small thing could have committed such a big crime.

  “Ms. Manor?” Abruptly, he turned to the prosecuting attorney, who smirked smugly at Gabriella before launching into her defense.

  “Your Honor, Miss Kelly appeared out of nowhere, she has been in Great Falls for less than two weeks, and she has already become a public danger. She is charged with murdering a man in cold blood—”

  “Cold blood?” Tristan interrupted. “Your Honor, the unidentified man at the scene was armed and broke into my client’s house while she slept! This woman is—”

  “A killer!” Julia Manor sang in an almost perverse tone. Even Gabriella could not resist staring at her in disbelief. “Maybe your client does know who he is and lured him to his death, Bosley. Did that ever occur to you? Maybe that was her entire purpose for coming to Great Falls in the first place.”

  “Are you talking to the defense, Ms. Manor?” the judge demanded, and Julia Manor lost her taunting expression immediately.

  “I apologize, Your Honor. Of course not. I am only presenting to the court that there is much about this woman we do not know.”

  “What do we know about the prosecutor?” Tristan countered, glaring at the pinch-faced blonde across the room.

  “What do you want, Ms. Manor?” Judge Chandler sighed, sitting back in his high-back chair as if he had already had enough of the theatrics.

  “Remand, sir. She has no ties to the community, no family, no—”

  “No record!” Tristan shot out. “She has no reason to flee.”

  “Your Honor,” another voice said, “if it pleases the court?” The players turned to look at a well-dressed man in a three-piece Gucci suit who had just entered the courtroom.

  “Ah, shit,” Gabby heard the prosecutor mutter.

  “Mr. Seaver,” the judge announced, his own eyes narrowing at the sight of the overdressed man. “To what do I owe the agony?”

  “I have recently been obtained to represent Miss Kelly in her defense,” the attractive stranger announced. “I would like to say that I am willing to present any bond you deem reasonable and take full responsibility for her if you should have her released.”

  Gabriella peered strangely at the man, looking past him for Cameron—surely this must be his doing—but the sheriff was not in the courtroom.

  “Your Honor!” Julia Manor cried. “Just because Cory Seaver waltzes in here in his Gucci shoes—”

  “They’re Armani, actually,” the lawyer piped up. “But do continue.”

  She glowered at the man before turning back to the judge. “It doesn’t change the fact that Grace Kelly is a flight risk.”

  “Any amount you deem reasonable, Your Honor,” Mr. Seaver called again.

  “Sounds good to me, Ms. Manor. Bail is set at one million, cash or bond,” Judge Chandler announced, slamming his gavel, a relieved expression crossing over his face. “Next case.”

  The bailiff came to escort Gabriella back to the pen, but Cory Seaver hurried forward.

  “Don’t take her too far, Carl,” he told the guard. “She’s coming back up within the hour.”

  Carl grunted in response, but nodded. Mr. Seaver stared after her, winking confidentially.

  “Nice meeting you, Grace!” he called after her, and Gabriella could hear a slight mocking in his tone. She wanted to ask about Cameron, wanted to ask the lawyer if he had sent him.

  “Where is—”

  “See you soon!” Mr. Seaver yelled, cutting her off.

  Gabby immediately understood: Cameron had sent the attorney in his place.

  Of course. The sheriff can’t be caught helping me. He would get into too much trouble.

  Gabriella did not know whether to be grateful or angry.

  He could have warned me at least, she thought, but she immediately felt ashamed. He risked a lot helping you already. He could have just taken your money and laughed in your face. It would have been your word against his. And, your word as both Grace Kelly and Gabriella Medina sucks right now. You wouldn’t have a leg to stand on.

  Not for the first time, Gabby thought about what a conundrum of emotions Cameron Lapin put her through.

  He seems to hate me and then he helps me. He arrests me and then tries to get me released. Why is he so hot and then so cold?

  She had no answer for her questions, but in that moment, she had no reason to be anything but thankful he had come through for her.

  Mr. Seaver seems like a mouthpiece, she thought. She needed someone who could handle her case, not a meek mouse of a boy who could barely win a bail hearing.

  The cell door slammed behind her, and Gabby slunk into a corner to sit on the scarred bench.

  “Well, ain’t you a pretty one,” one of the two other women in the prison leered, licking her lips. “You comin’ back to the prison with us, honey?”

  Gabby ignored her, gently tugging on her long, dark hair. It was a nervous habit she had forsaken years ago, but in her helplessness, she had found herself doing it with much more frequency over the past days.

  If I ever make it out of this alive, I will never look for travel advice on a dingy New York subway car again.

  “Oh, you too good for us, you uptight bitch?” the fleshy, middle-aged blonde asked, slinking closer to her, her stained red lips sneered upward. “You’re gonna be one of us soon, princess. You best lose that holier-than-thou stick in your ass. Why dontcha come here? I can give you some pointers.”

  “Leave her alone, Lulu,” the other one snapped. “She’s not staying. Can’t you see she’s wearing five-hundred-dollar jeans?”

  Lulu stepped back and examined the tiny brunette before her. She grimaced.

  “I guess she can afford to buy her way outta here, huh?” Lulu growled, spitting at Gabby’s feet. “Must be nice.”

  Gabriella bit back a scathing comment, knowing that she was not out of the woods yet.

  You are close to tasting freedom. You don’t want to get your ass kicked before you leave, she reminded herself.

  Lulu smirked, and Gabby moved her eyes away.

  As soon as I get out of here, I will run. Maybe I’ll head south to Mexico. I should have gone to Mexico in the first place, she reprimanded herself. It will be much easier to get lost south of the border, and then I can find a place to go without an extradition treaty to the US. I will need a fake ID, more money… Shit, how am I going to get more money? I can’t ask the sheriff. He’s not going to let me jump bail.

  She needed to find someone to help her, but who could she trust?

  A guard—a woman instead of Carl—walked up to the gate to unlock it.

  “Come on, Kelly,” she called. “Your bail has been posted.”

  “Look at that, Karen,” Lulu said to her companion. “You was right. The uppity bitch is leaving us already.”

  Again, Gabby bit her lower lip to keep from responding as she hurried away from the women.

  “Maybe I’ll see you again, princess,” Lulu called, spitting again. “When your rich sugar daddy is sick of you, I’ll be waitin’.”

  “That’ll do, Lulu,” Karen called. “If it was meant to be, she’ll be back to us soon enough.”

  The words sent a chill of apprehension through Gabriella, but she refused to show she was intimidated, shooting Lulu a cocky smile as the guard locked her back inside.

  “I am in for murdering my sugar daddy,” Gabby called back at them. “And his wife.” She relished the look of surprise passing over Lulu’s face, but Karen smirked, turning her head as if she knew the words were false.

  “You shouldn’t antagonize them, Kelly,” the female guard muttered as they headed out of the bowels
of the courthouse. “You never know what the future holds. You may end up being one of their bitches.”

  The cold truth of the statement made Gabby dizzy.

  They can’t try me if they can’t find me, she told herself reassuringly. Mexico is a big country and they aren’t going to waste manpower searching for the suspected killer of a nobody. His fingers were too shredded to gather prints for identification and the ones on the gun were inconclusive.

  They took the elevator to the main floor where Mr. Seaver was examining his Rolex with an almost amused impatience.

  “Ah! There she is,” he announced happily as Gabriella appeared. “Thanks, Gert.”

  Gert, the guard, nodded at Mr. Seaver, unlocking Gabriella’s cuffs before sauntering away down the hall. Gabriella noticed the guard swinging her hips as if hoping Cory Seaver was watching her ample bottom.

  He was.

  Gabriella stood, annoyed as the lawyer ogled the corrections officer.

  “I do miss the feel of small towns,” he sighed, wrenching his sparkling gray eyes from the retreating woman’s figure. Gabby shuddered slightly, trying to strike the image of the lawyer bedding the guard. “Cory Seaver,” the attorney announced, sticking forth a beautifully manicured hand. “I am glad to see you intact.”

  Gabriella blinked.

  “Intact?” she echoed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Cory laughed and gestured for the exit.

  “I have been in the bullpen. It is not a nice place for a gorgeous woman,” he replied. “Are you hungry? I know this town doesn’t have much, but Chappy’s Grill is pretty good, and I could definitely use a beer.”

  Gabriella found herself nodding. She had been living off fast food for the past few days, and she could use a beer herself.

  “I thought so,” Cory chuckled, leading her to a black BMW and opening the passenger side for her to step in.

  “Who… How did you get hired?” she asked when he settled into the driver’s seat.

  He cast her a sidelong look. “I think you know how that happened,” he replied. “But we’re not going to talk about that, all right? Our mutual friend is in enough trouble as it is.”

  Gabriella nodded quickly, a stab of shame coursing through her. I was right; I put the sheriff in an impossible position.

  “We can talk business over lunch, but I want you to forget anything you have told anyone up to this point,” Seaver told her. “We are starting fresh. Strike all that you have said to anyone. We are going with a completely new theory of the crime.”

  Again, she bobbed her head and stared at her hands.

  Whatever strategy he has planned doesn’t matter. I am leaving for Mexico tonight. Just nod and smile, she told herself. Agree with everything he says.

  They drove in silence, but it was comfortable—each one seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. As they pulled up to Chappy’s Grill, Cory turned off the car and abruptly turned to look at her, his grey eyes unblinking.

  “I want you to know that I believe you,” he told her earnestly, and Gabriella gasped aloud. The words almost seemed to be in a foreign language.

  “You believe me?” she whispered.

  He nodded, and Gabby could read no mockery in his eyes. “This is not the first time a bizarre death like this has happened in Great Falls; albeit, this is the first time it has happened during an attempted murder.”

  “What?” Gabby gasped. “Wolves have killed others in these parts? Inside someone’s house?”

  Cory nodded, pulling his keys from his ignition.

  “It’s been happening for a couple centuries, at least. The natives who lived around had their own stories about a mythical beast, and most people dismissed the tales as folklore, designed to scare little ones from venturing out at night.”

  “But you’ve seen this before?” Gabby asked excitedly, her hand against the dashboard. “Hasn’t anyone tried to find these animals? Maybe they’re rabid! They obviously don’t act like regular wolves. They should be found and euthanized!”

  Cory chortled.

  “Euthanized? You are from the city, aren’t you?” he chuckled. His face turned serious. “There have been many searches for the creatures, but they have never been found, nor has a wolf habitat been located. Whatever it is, it’s not a wolf, despite its likeness to one.”

  “No wolf habitats anywhere in these parts? Isn’t that odd?”

  “Very,” Cory confirmed. “But we haven’t seen wolves around here, and the stories surrounding these creatures always happen under very unusual circumstances.”

  “Then what is it?” Gabby demanded, uncomprehendingly. “What could it be?”

  Cory pursed his lips, his coal-like eyes darkening. “Some believe that they are werewolves.”

  Gabriella’s mouth fell open, realizing that he was jesting her after all, but before she could grow angry, she remembered the beast in her living room.

  It looked at me. It understood me. It was in there to protect me.

  A wave of dizziness overcame her as she envisioned the bullet falling from the wolf’s chest as it healed before her eyes.

  No, it can’t be. Werewolves aren’t real. And yet…

  “It’s, of course, speculation,” Cory continued, offering her a weak smile. “No one has ever lived to confirm such a tale. Whatever the creature is kills everything in sight, as if eliminating all witnesses. Well, they always have until now, that is.” He stared pointedly at her, and Gabriella felt her heart began to hammer. “But as I said, we can discuss this after we eat.”

  He turned and slid from the smooth, black seat, rushing over to open her door. Gabby stared at him, dazed.

  Honestly, I don’t have time to even entertain this right now. I have a very real, very pressing matter to deal with. Werewolves be damned.

  But as they sat themselves in the modest restaurant, Gabby could not help but look over her shoulder as if expecting a half-man to be looming behind her on his back legs.

  If there was a werewolf at my house that night, why did he stop at killing that man? Why didn’t he kill me, too?

  She voiced her question aloud after the harried owner took their food order and disappeared to the kitchen.

  “If it was such a beast,” Gabriella asked slowly, “why didn’t it kill me too?”

  Cory nodded agreeably, staring deep into her eyes as if searching for a pure truth within her irises.

  “That is a very good question,” he replied. “As I said, they have not been known to leave witnesses in their wake. That can only mean one of two things.” He took a sip of his beer and Gabriella waited, perched on the edge of her seat in anticipation.

  “Well?” she demanded when he took longer than she wanted to wait.

  Cory clucked his tongue. “Our mutual friend warned me that you were quick-tempered,” he laughed. “We’ll have to do something about that before trial.”

  Gabriella ignored the jab.

  “What two things could it mean?” she asked again.

  “First, it could mean that you had something that repelled him. Were you wearing any jewellery, particularly silver?”

  Gabby thought back to the night of the attack and shook her head.

  “No,” she answered. “Nothing at all. Is that really a thing? Silver keeping werewolves at bay?”

  Cory shrugged his shoulders indifferently and took another swig of his beer. “I don’t know. I’ve only heard the stories.”

  Gabriella stared at him expectantly as he continued to sip on his beer. He seemed to sense her impatience.

  “Well then, there’s no other explanation for it except…”

  “Except what?” Gabby cried, exasperated. “Tell me!”

  “Then the only other explanation is that the creature has feelings for you. There’s no other reason he should have kept you alive.”

  9

  Something was brewing, an undercurrent which Cameron found very difficult to pinpoint. He knew that both the police department and the pack were fraught with s
uspicions about him and his connection to Gabriella Medina, or Grace Kelly. He could sense a discourse occurring under his well-honed nose, but he could not say if it was as bad as it seemed, or if his guilty conscious was eating away at him.

  He had gone too far to go back, that he knew.

  After breaking back into the crime scene on 56th Street South, he had located Gabriella’s safe easily, hidden precisely where she had told him it would be. From there, he had gotten in his car and driven southwest nine hours to Boise, Idaho, where he had withdrawn money from several different banks. He had reasoned that if anyone had been keeping tabs on Gabriella’s spending, they would be a state away searching for her. Who would have access to such information? Police? Private investigators? Mayors?

  Without stopping to rest, he had turned around and returned home by daylight, where he had called on Cory Seaver.

  “I need a favor,” he’d told the man. “And don’t ask any questions.”

  It was one of the main reasons why Cameron had thought to call the expensive lawyer from Spokane. He could be trusted not to open his mouth unnecessarily.

  Cory had grown up in Great Falls and knew the town well. He also owed Cameron a lot, something the sheriff did not need to mention when he commissioned Cory to make the trip from Washington.

  “Take care of her. She knows things that she isn’t aware can put her in danger,” Cameron told him on the phone.

  “Is there something I should know?” the suave attorney replied in his cocksure way.

  “Just do it and leave me out of it,” Cameron said. “I have work to do.”

  “What do you want me to do with her after I bail her out?”

  “For someone who isn’t supposed to be asking questions, you sure ask a lot of them,” Cameron snapped. “Figure it out.”

  The conversation had ended there and Cameron had exhaled, knowing that the girl who had begun haunting his every thought was safe.

  He was blurry-eyed as he stared at his office computer.

  I should go home and sleep, he thought, trying to recall the last time he had rested. His instincts were weakening, and he knew he was losing power from all angles. He rose to grab his jacket, but before he could move, Jeannie came floating through the workspace, smiling happily as she placed a file on his desk.