by Lyn Brittan
He broke off, looking at her and perhaps waiting for her to say something. She couldn’t. Too much. Too soon. He turned her insides to jelly and her heart filled with him, but the risk of heartache and falling too fast hadn’t gone away.
Baron sighed with a weak smile etched across his face. Silently, massive arms enveloped her and took her to the bedroom. He rocked her while she wept through pain, physical and otherwise. He shook through his own rage, but it comforted her as a balm. He meant it. No one would hurt her again, not as long as Baron was around.
She tried sitting up when someone howled in fury, but Baron, sweet Baron, gently laid her back down.
“That’s just your sister making friends again.” Without leaving her side, he yelled at the screaming pair in the living room to get out. Kate screeched something back, but after another series of shrieks, the heavy door slammed shut and the apartment fell silent.
Chapter Eleven
The place stank of blood, vomit, sweat, angry wolf, fear and…
For the briefest of moments, he thought he caught the scent of Wyoming.
Don’t be stupid.
Baron sniffed again.
Not Wyoming, but dragon?
With Johanna asleep, he addressed as many of these as he could. He hated bleach, it burned his nostrils and watered his eyes, but he couldn’t take the scent of her blood anymore. The couch was a total loss. He’d call and have another delivered soon. The money would come out of the restaurant’s discretionary funds if necessary.
Scrubbing on his hands and knees, he came across the cop’s business card and took in a deep whiff. Yep, dragon. He hadn’t smelled one of those in years.
Baron didn’t trust them. No man or wolf could. The whole species was too damned lusty. It’d saved Johanna, but it had also been half-naked.
Johanna wasn’t the issue, there was nothing but trust there. Even if she hadn’t accepted their Mating, it didn’t make it any less true. The dragon however…he sniffed again and caught the slight seawater scented hint of desire. Baron started dialing, but it was a little tough with all the shaking. How long did you get for murdering a cop? Capital murder went for fifty years? Life?
“Hello?”
The gasping voice was female.
“Who is this?”
More gasps. “Allison.”
“Where is Jack Wu?”
“Inside me.”
“Okay.” He took a moment to let that marinate. “Right. Tell him it’s Mr. Wolf.”
The sweet little thing tried, but it trailed off into a groan and a round of ‘fuck me babys’ that left him with a newfound respect for Jack. He should have hung up, but well, the couple on the other end was just getting to the good part. This Allison person’s sex time vocabulary was to be commended. She cried out one final sentence of pure filth, then somebody slapped something juicy and Jack picked up the phone. “Sorry about that. Still there?”
“Allison?”
“Who?”
“The person you’re inside of.”
“Oh…that’s her name. Hey, how’s our girl doing?”
“My woman is fine. I called to thank you for bringing her home.”
“And stake your claim? No worries. She cried for you the whole car ride over. I never had a chance. Now tell me about her sister.”
“Kate?”
“No…no, there’s three of them, right? I’ll take the other girl. The one whose head doesn’t spin around when she’s pissed.”
“Never met her. Look, man, I gotta go, but thanks again. I have a restaurant opening soon. You’ll always have an open seat. Call me back to set it up when you’re not in Allison.”
“Word.”
Word?
Baron ended the call, head still shaking. When he was brave enough, he’d ask Kate what happened between them. For now, there were more pressing things. He and Johanna both needed food and her bandages had to be changed. They were starting to stink.
Standard breakfast fare was not on the menu, even at two in the morning. He wanted carbs - mountains of pasta, heaped with all the meat he could muster up. He set the water to boil and left for the bathroom, hoping for the best. Few of their kind kept bandages around. He might have to improvise something to bind her wounds. Leaving her alone to get something from the store wasn’t on the table.
He couldn’t have been more wrong though. He’d been under the sink since he’d been here, but the storage closet was another matter. The woman had stacks of bandages, pills, tampons and enough toilet paper to wipe the ass of every neighbor in the complex. He grabbed a box of surgical wraps, one of the three hundred-million tubes of antibiotic ointment and joined her in the bedroom, not the least bit shocked to find her awake. She’d twisted and turned all night. “Another dream about the robbery?”
“I thought I heard you ruffling around in there.”
“So you don’t want to talk about it? Okay. New question: why is there a pharmacy in your closet?”
“Nothing wrong with being prepared. You know how it is. I need three or four times the normal dose. When you think of it that way, it’s not very much at all.”
Baron lowered the blanket and opened the top of her pajamas. The dragon had wrapped her up in one long strip of tan banding. She sucked in air every time Baron tried to separate it from the coagulated blood binding it to her skin like glue. Best to keep her talking. “Prepared for what?”
“Stuff. Weather’s rough in the winter and ow—”
“Sorry. Nearly done and you’re a prepper.”
“I’m not.”
“You are and newsflash, you’re also a wolf. If it all goes to hell you can just take what you want.” He put healthy dollops of ointment on her wounds, but was relieved to see her healing so well. The purpling flesh fused together, though it would take some time for all her pain to go away. “You need to rest and eat for the next little bit. I’ll call Kate later and we’ll work out a schedule to keep you company.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“That wasn’t up for debate. Do you feel like eating? I’m going to whip up a batch of pasta and meatballs with a side of steak.”
A wince followed Johanna’s too brief laughter. He went to the painkillers, but she waved them away. “I don’t have spaghetti. Ramen lasts longer.”
“You’re the only woman who could offer me such filth and keep me around.”
“I never thanked you.”
“You never have to. You’re also the only woman I would order takeout for.”
He called in five large pizzas and held her close while they waited. He kept the tone light, easing her into conversation about everything other than yesterday’s events. Inside, his chest ached with rage and worry. He’d never killed before, but would have no problem doing it now. He hoped for all their sakes that the cops found her shooter before he did.
They caught a rerun of last night’s news while flipping through the channels. Jack’s face blazed across the screen as the winner of an unexpected shootout. No wonder he’d been celebrating. Two men captured. Grainy surveillance images picked up a third masked man, but there were no more leads. The first two claimed only to have just met him – that he’d planned this himself and invited the druggies for backup. They said he’d had a hard on for murder. “We’ll find the man who did this to you.”
“I know.” But her shaky voice didn’t carry the confidence of her words. She had to know he’d protect her. She’d never live in fear again.
“No one will get close enough to hurt you. You know I mean that.”
“Uh huh.” Johanna turned on her side grimacing and grabbed the remote.
“And this Jack guy is my back up.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Just thank him for what he’s done.”
“I invited him to the opening.”
“Yeah.” She buried her head into the crook of his arm and curled into a tiny ball as if she wanted her whole body to just disappear. Her shudder reverberated deep into his
bones.
“Johanna?”
“I don’t want to go back.”
“You’re not. Baby, I meant what I said. I’m not a rich man, but I can take care of you.”
“You’ve known me for a month. Less.”
“My heart was ripped out of my chest when I thought you were dead. You’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“It’s for purely selfish reasons. How can I focus on becoming a successful restaurateur, if I’m worried about my girl?”
He’d make it work. Somehow. Even if it meant using a little of the startup cash to pay her rent. So what? It might mean not hiring another person for a while, but he’d manage it. Whether she knew it or not, she was his to keep safe.
All the more reason to tell her one tiny, white lie. She’d given her statement to Jack already. There would be no reason for her to go anywhere until the trial. And who knew how long that would take? Why not let it slip that they’d captured all of the robbers? They would eventually. Noble lies had their purposes…
*****
Being shot wasn’t working with her schedule. It took another week on her back, nursed in turns by Baron and Kate, before she was deemed well enough to do things by herself. Not that she did. There was a natural comfort in being close to Baron and she went with him to the restaurant for several days straight. She helped where she could by reviewing costs and expenditures and making calls when necessary. It kept her from thinking of that.
“You look good here.” He winked at her over a stack of boxes in the corner of the restaurant.
“It feels good here.”
“That’s what knowing where you belong feels like. One day you’ll realize it. I’m patient,” he said, then lugged a box to the kitchen.
Even after everything they’d gone through, it was still too dangerous to dream this could be something permanent. He’d dropped the M word once or twice a day, accepting it as stone cold fact. So why the crap couldn’t she?
Mate.
The connection had been there from the start. His presence filled an emptiness that she’d once thought bottomless. And yet…
She tried avoiding the issue by concentrating on the restaurant, but even that was tricky territory. She started to think of it as ‘theirs,’ instead of ‘his.’
But why? She was a woman of numbers and logic. There had to be a reason. She was lonely and he cared. A lot. That must be it.
Although, it didn’t explain things from his end. Sharing a bed was one thing, even playing nursemaid, but what kind of man opened up his business to a woman?
She kept her eyes locked on his flexing muscles when he came out the kitchen for another box. His tight, white shirt hugged in all the right places and was made even better by a black, stained apron. He stopped and shrugged. “What?”
“What if you’re wrong,” she asked, in a voice just for him.
“About?”
“Us. What if you wanted to be Mated for so long that you fell into the delusion that this is it?”
“Hmm.” Baron put his hands on his hips and sucked his teeth. “Hell of a delusion.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“But if I believe we’re meant to be together and I want us to be together, what’s the difference?”
She shook her head. The man wasn’t getting it. “What if Mating isn’t real? Maybe it’s a biological construct like wolves in the wild. Or…or what if all those people who thing they’re Mates are just really in love?”
“Love? You’re right. That really would be terrible.”
“I’m serious. It’s crazy when you think about it.”
Baron picked up another box and headed to the back. “We can always be crazy together.”
Through the cutout between the front of the house and the back, she watched him going about work as if this was no big deal. She set up camp on the long side of enraged until she replayed all he’d just said. How many times had he told her that she smelled like home? About as often as he’d changed her bandages or brought her food in bed.
As often as he’d bathed her or massaged her aching muscles. If Mating didn’t exist, that left one bizarre thing as the culprit. The man really did love her.
“What are you smiling about?”
She looked up to see Baron eyeballing her from the back. He’d used his normal speaking voice and the rest of the staff turned in her direction. Jerk. Cute jerk. Her jerk.
Her…yeah…Mate.
“I can’t believe how fast this is happening. The restaurant, I mean.”
“Crazy, huh? How somethings click into place. The restaurant, I mean,” he added with a wink. Baron pointed to his sweating crew and gave them a thumbs up. “Five days. I think we can handle it. The last of my food gets here over the next forty-eight hours. Two deliveries today.”
“Don’t forget the aprons.”
“Huh?”
She waved a slip of paper in the air. “You were supposed to pick them up from the embroidery shop two days ago.”
“I’ll send one of the boys.”
The boys, all college age guys, were better suited to the lifting and unloading that still needed to be done. “It’d be a waste to send them. I’ll go.”
“No.” Baron came to the front, wiped his hands on his pants and grabbed his tablet. “Give me thirty minutes to finish going through this purchase order. Scratch that. I need an hour. I’ve got a new recipe cooking and –”
“I can go by myself.”
He didn’t bother looking up to shoot her down. “Ten minutes.”
“You have to review the menus, sign and date that whole mountain of paperwork and manage these guys. I can handle bringing a box down the street.”
Only after another minute of this back and forth did he abandon the tablet. He replaced it with her hand and slid into the booth. “What if I’m not ready for you to be alone? It’ll take two seconds for me to walk with you.”
“And two seconds for me to go by myself. All this you’re building, that’s going to dominate your time for a while. I’m shaken, but I need to get used to not having you or Kate at my side every four seconds. People have survived far worse.”
“That doesn’t minimize what you’ve gone through.”
“True, but I’m alive. It’s a lot more than the shooter can say. I’m not gonna let this ruin my life.”
The lines around his mouth tightened and he looked away. “I don’t care about him. Baby, you jump at every loud sound. And when was the last time you slept without having a nightmare?”
“All the more reason.”
“I’ve got a better one. It’s one thing to explain to these people that you weren’t shot that bad, but it’s something else to say it to the folks who held your guts in. What if you meet Tony on the street?”
“The building is in the opposite direction. Not that it matters. They’re busy running reports this time of day. None of them will be outside.”
“There’s always a chance.”
“So? I’ll tell them it’s part of my rehab. And it is, in a way.”
He nodded to the light crew reviewing the fire safety plan with the newbies. “I told them that you were grazed by two bullets and they think you’re a hero. I won’t have to worry about anyone slacking for a while,” he said and cracked his knuckles. “There’s no talking you out of it?”
“No.”
“I’ve got a gun in the office. You know how to use it?”
“I don’t want to see one of those up close again. I’ll call you when I get there and call on my way back.”
“Johanna…”
Indecision played out a tune on his face in twitched cheeks and pursed lips, but he wouldn’t stop her. She had something to prove to herself. To the both of them. “Trust your Mate.”
His eyes softened and he let out of lungful of air. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You fight dirty.”
“Yep.”
Feigning self-assurance she sure as crap didn’t have, Johanna snatched the purchase order from the pile, popped a kiss on Baron’s grinning cheek and shimmied out the other side of the booth. “I’ll be right back.”
She started shaking the second she got out the door and almost turned back. She knew what she would find if she did – Baron there with arms at the ready to catch her.
That’s what got her moving. If something went down, he would be there, but she had to try to do it on her own. The alternative was a future of fear. She deserved better than that.
Before the robbery, she’d have been on her phone or humming along to buds in her ears. Now she kept her head on a constant swivel.
For years, she heard. Today, she listened. Each sound she categorized as harmless or a potential threat. Worse than the exhaustive hyper-vigilance was the overwhelming sensation of being watched. She tilted her head back, pretending to look toward the approaching dark clouds. In reality, she tried to isolate any unusual scents.
Duh.
They all were. She was on a flipping street.
She shook herself, squared her shoulders and powered through the jumbling crowd.
Oomph!
She stumbled into a man whose face was obscured by a baseball cap. Now she really was losing it. Her stupid little mind whispered that she’d scented one of the robbers.
Dumb, dumb, dumb. She wouldn’t let this panic choke her. Baron told her that Jack captured the last man. What she smelled now was all in her head. She stuttered out an apology to the faceless man who tilted the brim of his hat and stepped around her.
With renewed purpose, she hustled her way down the sidewalk, eager to get this over with. More a rabbit than a wolf now, she shook under the invisible gaze of phantom threats. When her hands grazed the embroider’s door, they slipped, wet with fear.
The owner’s weathered and knobbed fingers twisted over themselves as they ushered her in. The woman’s gray brows furrowed with concern. “Are you okay, dear?”
“Yes ma’am. Hi, I’m…” She stopped for a gulp of air and found there wasn’t nearly enough of it. A paper bag would be nice. After a few shallow breaths, she tried again. “I’m here for the aprons.”
