by Sadie Hart
Tonight felt normal. It didn’t feel like Charles was out there, lurking in the shadows. She didn’t know how long it would last, but she would cherish the moment. She’d take what she could get right now, no matter how small.
***
The credits for the third movie rolled across the screen, thin lines of white cutting through the darkness. He hadn’t intended to stay this long, but when he sank down on the couch beside Timber he’d realized he didn’t want to leave.
Hell, she was safe here with Shay, but he missed being around her. Missed the chance to make her laugh, to touch her, hold her. She wriggled into his side, her breathing slow and even with sleep, and the scent of green apples wafted up to him. It was shampoo, the same one he’d smelled on Shay, but only on Timber had he found it hot as hell.
He ran fingers through her long purple hair. He got why she colored it now—it was an escape mechanism, a way to remind herself that she was free. But it’d grown on him. A small smile quirked his mouth. It was incredible how getting to know someone could change your perceptions.
“You got it bad,” Shay murmured, her voice soft, tired.
She was sprawled in her ugly burgundy chair, one foot braced against the edge of the coffee table, one tucked under her. Three empty beer bottles, an empty pizza box, and a half-eaten bowl of popcorn littered the space between them.
He looked down at Timber again, at her hand resting on his chest. Yeah. He had it bad. He’d thought he’d been prepared, but it had never occurred to him that he’d fall for the little wolf in his arms. Even when the emotions had surfaced, he’d been confident he could push them away. Brandt tilted his head slightly and laid a kiss against Timber’s forehead.
“For the record,” Shay said, her feet sliding to hit the ground, “she likes you too.”
She was a job. Hell, she was supposed to be a job, but the moment he opened his mouth to say as much, the words locked in his throat. Shoulda-coulda-woulda didn’t apply. All that mattered was right now, and right now, Timber mattered a lot more to him than any other victim ever had.
And the woman in his arms was hardly a victim. Oh, she was scarred—mentally, emotionally, and physically—but she was fighting so hard to truly live again. She’d done her best to make something of herself, to support and save others.
Shay made a soft sound of sympathy. “For what it’s worth? We can call the people we help ‘jobs’ all we want. Sometimes, it doesn’t matter worth shit. The heart typically shoots its own arrow, logic need not apply.”
Brandt smiled. “Fair enough. But I can’t walk away from this case, and it’s a conflict of interest to be involved with someone—”
“Been there, done that.” Shay leaned forwards and braced her elbows against her knees, her eyes intent on his. “Sometimes you have to choose. Sometimes you don’t. It’s up to you to know which you need to do. Would it bother your pack? Would it make the men underneath you trust you less?”
“No.” He was sure of that much. Overall, his pack was solid. Most of them had joined him after they learned he stood up for the shifters under his watch, not against them. The transfers had come in droves then.
Shifter Town Enforcement was slowly waking up, and Brandt had wanted to lead the change. Not because he wanted to be some kind of revolutionary, but because he still remembered the case that had slammed his feelings home for him.
He’d always thought it was wrong to turn his back on people just because their beasts were wild animals, rather than domesticated.
But there was one case that had cemented his convictions and set his course.
The local STE had never had an issue with the Boulder Pride lion-shifters. The Reyes family was big, but the lions didn’t cause trouble. But when a rogue Hound came into town and framed two of them for murder, one of the Hound’s own pack members had fought to the bitter end to protect the two lion-shifters she’d grown to love, as well as their family. Lennox Donnelly had shaped how Brandt wanted to deal with the other shifter groups just by watching her dedication to do what was right.
It had taken a hell of a lot of courage. She could easily have lost her job, or worse, wound up with a silver bullet between her eyes for turning on her STE pack, or for aiding and abetting the enemy. By then, though, Brandt had already seen enough of their enemy to know they weren’t the enemy.
He’d seen lion-shifters who were mothers, darn good mothers. He’d known one who’d even tried to be a teacher. She was an incredible one, but the world was still changing, prejudices still running high, and shifters were still deemed more animal than human in most regards.
He’d also seen the bad people could do, and it had little to do with the animal who might or might not share their soul.
No. He’d built a solid pack here, one that wouldn’t see Timber as an enemy, but as one of the many varieties of people they served. They wouldn’t respect him less for falling for a wolf. He just shouldn’t be doing it while he was on the job.
“You’re still arguing with yourself,” Shay pointed out, one eyebrow arched. “Why?”
“It’s not professional.”
“Eh. Bullshit. Come on, I could see it if you were a human cop who had to bring this Wolfe guy into court. But he’s not getting a prison sentence. STE doesn’t give shifters that option.”
“But shouldn’t we?” In a nation that was supposed to stand for equality, shouldn’t STE be striving to become more than just a mass execution squad?
Shay shrugged.
“Maybe someday. I don’t know.” He watched the muscle in her jaw work, her teeth grinding. She seemed to fight with herself for a moment before she continued, “I don’t want to be treated like a monster, and I’m thankful to be living in an area where STE works with the packs instead of against us. But. And this is a big but. Prison isn’t made for shifters. Put a man like Wolfe behind bars with humans and he’d rip them apart.”
Brandt knew that. “There have been arguments for shifter prisons...”
“And those seem a long way off yet.”
“That’s not the point, though. Shouldn’t I be setting a standard for how Shifter Town Enforcement should handle things?”
That had been his goal up till now.
“Sure. But don’t forget, just because you think something should be done a certain way, doesn’t mean everyone else is going to follow. STE is still hung up in politics and it’s going to be a long time before it settles. Don’t walk away from someone you care about just because you’re hoping some law might pass fifty years down the road.”
She collected the empty bottles and box off the coffee table and rose. “And quite frankly, in the bigger scheme of things, getting involved with Timber isn’t that big a deal. It happens. Hound, cop, bodyguard,” the corners of her mouth nudged up at that. “We’re all human. Sometimes things just happen. If you’re that worried about it, don’t you have a second who can play alpha for a while? You can still be on the case without having to be in charge.”
Tate could do it, Brandt knew that. Hell, in a way, Tate had been acting as the pack alpha for most of this case already, just without Brandt actually making it official. It was good experience for the other Hound, so Brandt hadn’t really felt guilty.
He looked down at Timber still snoozing peacefully against him. He could give the pack to Tate temporarily; he’d do a good job with it, but would Timber believe he wasn’t giving up? Shay came back into the room and reached for the popcorn bowl.
“Everything good in life is worth a shot,” Shay said softly. “You regret it once it’s gone.”
“Sound like someone who speaks from experience.” Brandt looked up at her and he saw the sadness in her eyes as she stared down at Timber. Her lips twisted in a grim line, one he recognized. It was the look of someone who’d lost and didn’t think she’d ever get it back.
“Yeah. And believe me, regret bites hard.” She started for the kitchen and paused. “Her room is the first door on the left.”
“No chance
is ever gone for good,” Brandt said.
Shay shook her head. “It is when they’re dead. Life’s short, Brandt. If you think something, someone is worth having, do it while there’s a chance, because tomorrow there might not be one.”
Chapter Seventeen
A street lamp flickered on the corner, off and on, a flash of light that sparked annoyingly against a blue-black sky. Charles wiggled deeper into the bush, his nails digging into the dirt. Most people didn’t look twice at a large black dog lounging in a yard. Even fewer gave him a second look and actually thought wolf. In a day and age where shifters were outed and plentiful, he’d have thought people would have more common sense than that.
He gave a low snort, sending a leaf skittering out from under the bush. Then again, common sense had always been in short supply in the human population. Shifters becoming public knowledge hadn’t made people smarter.
His gaze traveled over the small, ranch-style house, his nose twitching in the slight breeze. Timber’s scent was there, faint, along with another woman’s. He could have laughed. Shifter Town Enforcement had thought they were so smart moving her, but Charles knew how to wait. He was very, very patient.
The front door opened and Charles watched the Hound slip out. A woman stood behind him, a soft smile on her face, before she shut the door and left him on the steps. He didn’t recognize the strange woman, but her scent read wolf. Shifter Town Enforcement thought they’d hide Timber with a wolf?
Now, that was laughable.
Had they forgotten the number of wolves he’d killed already? There was a trick to it, especially if she was already watching for him, alert to the danger. But in the end wolf-shifters were still human, and people tended to get lazy. They stopped watching their car mirrors at night when they got in their car, stopped checking the bushes on the way up the sidewalk to their house. They missed bolting a window shut in the summer, preferring let in a soft breeze.
They always, always made a mistake.
And a good hunter knew how to watch for mistakes.
The Hound made his way down the concrete steps and Charles crept closer. He was careful not to give his hiding place away. The wind was in his favor, blowing toward Charles, ferrying scents toward him, not away. He tilted his head into the small, teasing breeze and inhaled. Son of a bitch. He barely held back the growl as the damn dog’s scent rolled through him. It was ripe with Timber’s. This one here was getting too damn close to Charles’s mate for his liking.
The Hound needed to learn to back the fuck off.
He watched the Hound get into the sleek, black vehicle parked in the driveway. It wasn’t a marked STE car, but what else did big, black SUV say? Charles wasn’t a fool, not like they were. He turned his attention back to the house as soon he heard the Hound start his car. In a few minutes he could be inside and he could have her again. Timber would be back where she belonged. Finally.
His long tongue ran out over his muzzle, relishing the lethal sharpness of his canines. There was one hitch to the plan, and Charles eyed the SUV when the brake lights flashed, followed by the reverse lights. So far, that Hound had stuck to Timber like glue.
He’d yet to abandon her. Even after one of his own had been killed. Charles had fucking made the message perfectly clear, and instead the Hound had simply moved Timber somewhere else. No. He didn’t think this particular man was about to give up. Worse, Charles suspected that if the Hound was as close to Timber as he suspected, the dog might try and track her down after Charles had taken her.
And he didn’t like being the hunted. Predators weren’t supposed to be prey.
No. Some threats had to be eliminated before you could take the ultimate prize, and this particular Hound was one of them. The vehicle turned out onto the street, headlights cutting through the darkness, and Charles flattened himself to the ground when they sliced through the bushes over him. It pulled away from the little house where Timber hid, and Charles slipped out across the lawn.
He took one last look in Timber’s direction and then followed the car when it rounded the corner. He’d be back for her. He’d always be back for her. First, though, there was something he needed to take care of.
***
Timber stood at Shay’s bathroom sink, her long wet hair flopped down over her shoulders, dampening her navy T-shirt. She heard Shay coming down the hall toward her, and took a deep breath.
Some things in life you just had to say out loud. Sometimes you needed an opinion from someone rational who wasn’t attached to the outcome.
Shay paused at the open bathroom door and Timber just blurted it out, “I’m thinking of dyeing my hair.”
Shay huffed a soft, teasing laugh. “To what? Bubble gum pink?”
Timber smiled as she fluffed her wet hair. Still soaked from the shower, it looked darker, closer to black than the eye-popping purple it normally was. She couldn’t quite blame Shay for the bubble gum pink quip.
“No. To something more normal. Brown, maybe? It used to be brown. A chocolate shade, with gold highlights in the sun.” And she realized as she said it that part of her missed that. The plain Jane brown hair she’d been born with. Except, when her bloodcurdling screams woke her last night and she’d bolted into the bathroom as she always did, the bright purple beacon on her head, her hair, had been the first thing to ease the frantic fear. What if she looked in the mirror and saw the past?
What if she couldn’t break free because all she saw in the mirror was the woman she’d once been?
Shay hitched herself up onto the counter, her back to the mirror, and studied Timber. “You could go blonde. Well, more of a light golden brown. It’d look good on you.”
And it would still be different. But different enough to help her past the nightmare-induced panic? Timber gnawed on her bottom lip. There was only one way to find out. Timber eyed Shay. “Care to run to the store with me?”
The other woman laughed.
“Like I’d let you go without me.” She slid off the sink and turned to look at Timber’s reflection in the mirror, then back to Timber. “Just tell me one thing. Why?”
She didn’t know how to explain. In a way, the brightly colored hair was still hiding her. She’d dyed it in a reaction to Charles and the nightmares that had followed, as a way to cope with the horrors. A way to separate the then from the now.
Except it hadn’t resolved anything. She hadn’t really moved on. She didn’t think dyeing her hair yet another color would stop the nightmares, not anymore, but she couldn’t help hoping that it just might help her move on. It was one step closer to discovering the person she wanted to be.
“I’m just ready for the change. To find me again, you know?”
“Yeah.” Shay squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll get the keys.”
Timber ignored the uneasy flip in her stomach. Change was good, even if sometimes it made the world feel a little lopsided. It just took time to adjust. Then Shay was standing in front of her grinning, and Timber found herself smiling back. Hope blossomed in her chest. “Let’s do this.”
The nearest store was a five minute drive, made faster by Shay’s disregard for the speed limit. Inside, however, took longer. “Crap. That’s a lot of colors.”
Shay’s smooth laugh sounded from behind her. “Didn’t you look the last time you dyed your hair?”
“No. Purple? Doesn’t really take much thought. I liked the color and it was crazy. Crazy enough to work. I didn’t even look at the normal colors.” She squatted in front of the golden browns. Well, burnished bronze, golden delight, light brown, sun bronze, and the list went on and on. The various shades were overwhelming. “I just want...”
Hell. Any of them would do. She reached in and scooped a box out.
“Let’s try this one instead,” Shay said, exchanging her choice for the box Timber had picked out. “That one will look too light on you. And trust me, my hair has run the gauntlet. You’re in good hands.”
Timber looked at Shay’s short-cropped, spiked hair
and scrunched her nose. “Yeah. Not reassuring.”
Shay’s grin widened. “Shut up and let’s go. The one you picked would have made your skin look a bit bleached out.”
Shay maneuvered them in the direction of checkout, and Timber decided to surrender to the tsunami that was Shay. She figured anything would look better than what she had now. “Do you think it’ll cover the purple?” she asked over her shoulder.
A woman in the lane next to them snickered, but Timber ignored her. She’d gotten accustomed to weird looks when she’d first chosen the color. And it had been purple for so long, she barely even registered the double-take most people still did when they passed her.
They probably thought she was a bit nuts or some punk-teen wannabe who refused to grow up.
They didn’t need to know the truth. It didn’t matter. She had known.
“Another reason I think this shade would work better? It’s darker. It won’t have to work as hard to conceal the purple.” Shay stepped up to the register and handed the box to the checker. Timber paid, and as they strode to the car, Shay finished her though. “It still might end up a bit darker than what is on the box, but it shouldn’t be purple anymore.”
That was all she wanted right now.
The hardest part was the wait. Letting the color work its way into her hair, waiting to on tenterhooks rinse it out. They waited at the bar in Shay’s kitchen, poking at the subs they’d picked up on the way home, using a food as a way to pass the time.
“You’re going to be okay,” Shay said softly when the timer dinged and Timber hesitated. “He didn’t break you then, he hasn’t broken you now. You’ll find a way through the nightmares. Believe me, there are ways.”
Timber smiled. For the first time, surprisingly, she hadn’t needed the reassurance. And after she rinsed her hair and dried it, she stared in the mirror, speechless. The woman staring back at her looked completely different. She looked vibrant, beautiful.
