HOTSHOT BROTHERS: Coyote Shifters

by Hunt, Sabrina

  “Interesting theory, Mr. Campbell. Let’s see.” Again my fingers flew and now I was going down a very strange and twisted internet pathway. Eventually, I wound up at a slick, shiny website for an energy company out of Montana. Viper Fuel. It had a picture of a snake rearing up from the ground with oil dripping from its teeth and its tail crushing a tree. “Oh, charming.”

  “Viper?” Cree shook his head. “I know these clowns. They’re always breaking regulations and dumping polluted stuff. Why are they throwing some sham charity event?”

  “I don’t know, but they went through a lot of trouble to try not be traced, I can tell you that much,” I said, thoughtfully clicking through the website. There was something cold and calculating about it that I didn’t like. “Don’t worry, though, they can’t trace it back to me.”

  “Wait, can you find out who runs the company?” Cree asked.

  “I can try.” This led to more digging, but an hour later, I’d found a name. I had a feeling I’d only found it due to an error on someone’s part. “One Hugo Kren,” I announced.

  Cree, who had gotten up and was pacing around the room, stopped and stared at me. His phone slipped out of his hands onto the ottoman and his face went white. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes…” A nervous laugh bubbled into my throat. “Um, are you okay?”

  “I have to make a call,” he said shortly, avoiding my eyes as he stooped to get his phone. “Can you please give me a minute?”

  I watched him leave, the anxious laughter swirling into a deeper, darker fear. More theories about what my brother and Cree were up to imploded in my head. Secret Agents? Military? FBI?

  My fingers hovered over my keyboard for a good minute before I started typing again. I was curious about this Hugo Kren. There wasn’t anything else to find, however.

  Beyond a name, the man was a ghost.

  Otis Huxley was murdered by a ghost. Perhaps it’s not a coincidence.

  A chill ran up my spine and I closed the laptop. Getting up, I wandered over to the window and stared out across the city. There was some insistent instinct tickling in the back of my head, making my breath shallow and stomach flood with unease. And suddenly, for the first time in my life, I wished I’d listened to Rayner when he told me not to go poking around.

  It was the night before the gala. We’d just gotten back to the apartment from the tuxedo rental store. Cree tossed it carelessly on the couch as we walked in.

  My lips went tight and I picked it up, then hung it from a tall bookcase. He said nothing, merely banged around the kitchen and stretched my nerves even thinner.

  For the past three days, Cree had been not himself. No; that was an understatement. He was quiet and withdrawn, vaguely affectionate if I was in his eyesight and constantly brooding. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him smile.

  The first two days, I’d been understanding and gave him space. But today, after dealing with his piss-poor attitude for hours on end, I was at the end of my tether.

  Needing something to do, I got my laptop and printed out the invitations for the gala. The paper was limp in my hands as I held them up. I’d been looking forward to this night, but now all my daydreams about it were as soggy as this paper.

  That’s what happens when you don’t face facts, a little voice hissed. Cree’s pulling away.

  I sucked in a hard breath. No, Cree wasn’t like that.

  Even if he was acting that way.

  Wordlessly, I laid them out on the counter so I wouldn’t misplace them. Cree stopped what he was doing and came over to look at them. His eyes were shadowed and cheeks hollow. It was as though I was watching him get torn apart.

  I wish you would tell me what is bothering you, I thought, my brain filling with more irritation and worry. He was making me feel helpless, as though I’d been pushed out of some invisible circle and Cree was still within it, suffering alone.

  “These are our tickets?” he asked, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Sky, we gotta talk.”

  Slowly I came around the counter, my heart sinking with each step. Cree met me halfway, his face troubled as he gently took hold of my shoulders. Taking a deep breath, I lifted my chin and stared him down. I will not cry.

  “You cannot go to the gala tomorrow night,” Cree said in a rush. “I know you bought that dress and I’ll pay you back – you just have to do this one thing – for me. Please.”

  Relief swam through me and I let out a whispery laugh. “Oh, I thought… Never mind.”

  “You’ll do it?” Cree let out a long breath.

  “Yes,” I said. “As long as you tell me why. My boss won’t be happy with me.”

  His hands fell to his sides. “Can’t you tell them you’re sick?”

  “No, that won’t work. I’ll say there’s a personal emergency, maybe. So I need a valid reason. None of this Rayner and Cree mystery boys crap.” My voice was filled with all of my pent-up frustration. “Please. Talk to me.”

  Cree folded his arms and gave me an annoyed look. “You know I can’t.”

  “Then I’m going. Maybe I’ll meet Hugo Kren and find out for myself why he’s such a baddie.” I said it flippantly but the way Cree’s eyes dilated with fear and anger and made me step back.

  Oh, I had hit a hell of a nerve.

  Swallowing hard, Cree’s voice was tight as he ground out, “No. You can’t be anywhere near that place or that-that man. I’m sorry. You’ll understand after the fact.”

  “Cree,” I said, laying a hand on his forearm, which tensed under my touch. “I think I’ve been pretty patient with you the last few days. And overall since I met you, wouldn’t you say? But at some point, enough is enough. We’re together. You can’t keep secrets this big from me.”

  He looked away from me. “Maybe we shouldn’t be.”

  My chest seemed to hollow out in a millisecond as my blood ran cold. Pushing a hand to my heart, I tried to catch my breath. This isn’t happening.

  “‘Shouldn’t be’?” I echoed, my voice a broken whisper.

  Cree turned away and leaned on the counter, gripping it so hard I thought it would crack. His knuckles were white and the veins on his hands popped out. “This is all my fault.”

  Taking deep breaths, I counted to ten, then asked: “What, exactly, is your fault, Cree?”

  “I didn’t listen to Rayner, I didn’t think about what I was dragging you into or how you’d feel about it. I was selfish.” I thought I heard the marble crack under his grip. “I’m sorry.”

  I’d been in fights before – screaming matches, passionate and willful.

  This kind of fight was nothing like this. It was new to me, quiet, ugly, and raw. I didn’t know what to say.

  “If you knew the truth about me,” Cree’s voice broke. “You wouldn’t want to be with me.”

  “You don’t get to project your fears onto me,” I said coldly, the pain in my chest making it feel as though I were drowning in ice water. “I know how I feel. And there is nothing that could change how I feel about you, Cree Campbell.”

  He turned back to me, eyes wide and pleading. “Please just stop. Please. Don’t say it.”

  That hurt more than I could have imagined. I closed my eyes and took a breath. When I opened them, Cree was standing there with such a look of devastation on his face that I could feel his heart breaking alongside my own.

  “Why are you doing this?” I whispered. “What, are you a criminal? A murderer?”

  “No, worse.” Cree paused. “A monster. A monster who dragged you into a world your brother never wanted you a part of.” Lines were stamped across his forehead and around his mouth. “A monster who ignored all the warning signs. I didn’t want to accept that a woman like you has no business with someone like me.”

  “No,” I said, my voice low and intense. “Cree, this isn’t like you. None of that is true. You always remind me when I’m too much in my own head, giving into my fears. That’s what you’re doing now. Stop taking all the power from me, maki
ng it sound like I have no choice in this.”

  “I’m only doing what I should have done from the start,” Cree said.

  “No!” The word burst from me now, as I began to panic. Something was shutting down in his eyes and defeat crossed his face. “I can tell something is tearing you apart, Cree. Some fear or choice. If it’s about that damn secret, then just stop. Tell me. Rayner loves us both. He’ll understand.”

  “God, you’re so smart,” Cree said hoarsely. “And observant. It’s not that, though.”

  “Then what is it?” I demanded. “I deserve to know at least that. And don’t you dare lie, you’re terrible at it.”

  “It’s you, Sky,” Cree said and put his hands over his face. “Whether to be with you or not.”

  “Oh.” My chest was caving in, the pressure making it hard to breathe. “Do I get a say in this? Or have you already decided?” I was attempting sarcasm, still willing myself not to cry.

  His jaw was tight and Cree ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not trying to take away your say. I’m trying to do right by you. I’m trying to be selfless, I guess. That’s what I’m really terrible at.”

  “Selfless?” I echoed. “Cree, you’re not being selfless, you’re avoiding dealing with something. And me. This isn’t doing right by me; it’s pushing me away so you don’t have to deal with it.”

  “Sky,” Cree said tenderly, my name still a note of music in his voice. His blue eyes were the darkest I’d ever seen them. “Sky. I promise you’ll understand. Rayner will explain. All I can say is that I’m so sorry for involving you.”

  He made a move to take my hands, then stopped himself. With the look of a man sent into exile or hell, Cree walked past me.

  I spun around, water filling my lungs as my eyes burned. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it,” he replied. “I hope one day you can forgive me.”

  There was a note of defeated finality in his voice that rendered me speechless. I watched as he quietly took his tux off the bookcase and closed the guest room door behind him.

  In an ironic twist, Cree had left me a note.

  I’d found it the next morning and almost set it on fire instead of reading it. After stumbling out of my bedroom still stunned and somewhat numb, I’d seen his closed door. Rage poured through a tiny crack in my armor and I’d marched to the guest room, ready to scream my head off.

  But Cree was gone.

  I didn’t cry. I’d sucked in a breath like I’d been hit and decided to go about my day. I had a gala to get ready for. But I was annoyed that I didn’t get to make my many excellent points to him.

  For one thing, Cree seemed to have decided he’d dragged me into some mess, which I didn’t fully understand. However, the timing didn’t make sense.

  If this Hugo Kren and his cronies were involved, then it was a coincidence. As was the monster mash party going on in Seattle. In fact, the gala had been orchestrated earlier in the year and Otis Huxley was originally supposed to speak at it.

  I shook my head. It wasn’t like there was some kind of evil force at work, all dragging us to our doom at a charity gala. I mean, Cree was starting to act as bad as my mother.

  And once we’d made up, I was going to tell him how I felt about him. No matter how nauseous it made me to think about it. No matter how much it made me feel like I was risking everything for a guy I’d only just met. No matter how much it scared me.

  It was necessary. Cree had to know.

  However, once I found that note, I’d had to rethink my plan.

  It was so brief.

  Sky – I appreciate you not going to the gala. Rayner is coming to your apartment around then, so I hope you have a pleasant evening. Also, I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. You were a great tour guide and hostess.

  Thank you,

  Cree

  That’s it?! I thought for the thousandth time, as I reread it for the thousandth time.

  It was like we’d been polite bunkmates instead of a tangle of lovers and friends. Crumpling the paper in my fist, I set my chin.

  Two could play at this game.

  The day had flown by. I was finishing up dabbing on my lipstick and checking my hair, about to head out the door, and I went to get the tickets. A car was waiting for me downstairs.

  They were gone.

  “Cree!” I shouted. Biting my lip, I knew I didn’t have time to reprint them. Then I glanced down at my phone and smiled. Perfect.

  At the Broadmoor Golf Club, I hopped out of the car as soon as it pulled up and strolled inside, flashing my phone with the invitation on the screen at the coifed woman guarding the doors.

  Wandering around, I kept my head high and eyes out for Cree, determined to let him eat his heart out. Suddenly, I came face to face with a black draped easel with a picture of Otis Huxley on it. It was like a slap of cold water and I suddenly felt ashamed at my pettiness.

  Snatches of conversation flitted by my ears. Still no leads. What a terrible thing. Poor man.

  Swallowing, I went to move beyond it, when a bent, older gentleman with fluffy white hair and askew glasses popped up in my periphery.

  “Hello, dear. Did you know Otis?” he asked, smiling at me.

  “My father did,” I answered. “I think I met him a few times, but it was a long time ago.”

  The man nodded. “We were students together a long time ago and then taught as colleagues for a bit. My name is Professor Whitlock, of the University of Washington. Call me Whitsy.”

  “Sky Hess,” I said, shaking his hand. “You might know my father, Ezra Hess.”

  “Stanford?” The professor asked and I nodded. “Ah, yes, we’ve met and I’ve read his work. Marvelous fellow.”

  “Whitsy, there you are!” came a light female voice with a musical British accent.

  Turning, we saw a dainty woman walking towards us with her hands extended out. Her chestnut curls were piled high and a pair of sapphire eyes sparkled at us. Her blue dress whispered around her long legs with the kind of grace I could only dream of, but her smile was so sweet, I found myself liking her on sight. Then, for a brief moment, I seemed to recognize her.

  But then it was gone. I blinked. How peculiar.

  “Hazel dear, hello,” Whitsy said, twinkling. “Did you all get here alright? Where’s Ben?”

  “Oh, around with the others,” she said, waving a hand.

  I found myself studying Hazel. There was something about her, like an otherworldly iridescence, that set her apart. When she looked at me, I jumped, feeling as though her eyes were taking in more than just my appearance.

  Something in her gaze, too, suggested that same brief recognition.

  A little unnerved, I smiled awkwardly and rushed to say, “Hello, how are you?”

  “Well, thank you. I’m Hazel Pemberton. It’s nice to meet you Sky,” she said. I gaped at her and she flushed. “Sorry, I overheard you when I was walking over.” Then her gaze moved beyond me to Otis’s picture. “Poor Professor Huxley. I only wish his pursuit of the truth didn’t end in death.”

  “As do I, my dear.” Whitsy sighed heavily. “I tried to warn him.”

  “Whitsy!” I exclaimed and they both looked at me. “Oh, I’m sorry. I realized I have heard of you. From my-my father.”

  That was a lie. I’d heard his name mentioned by Cree.

  Unnerved, even more, I smiled at them, made a polite excuse and fled to the bathroom. What was going on? Were those people involved? Adjusting my dress, I took a few deep breaths.

  Two girls came in gabbing, and I caught a glimpse of a long silver gown and a bright flame-like one. They were followed by Kira, looking self-satisfied in a frilly white concoction. It was the first time I’d seen her since she’d tried to hit on Cree.

  She minced up next to me and peered at herself in the mirror. “Oh, Sky. Hello. Nice dress. Flaunts those assets for sure.” Dabbing her nose, she asked, “Boyfriend here?”

  My nostrils flared. “Why do
you care? I heard what happened by the way. Cree feels bad, but I told him not to bother.”

  “My, my, little hippie, isn’t that against your mantras or something?” She cut her eyes at me. “Your boyfriend is hot, but he’s a dick. And definitely simple. That’s the only reason he’s with you.”

  I clenched my fists, but before I could say a word, a warm, amused voice said, “My, my, someone is jealous.” The woman in silver was on the other side of Kira and she smirked at her in the mirror. “Perhaps if you took less time hiding that ugly little soul, you’d actually have a man.”

  A snort of laughter escaped me as Kira went red.

  The other girl moved in, her full lips curling. “Yo, toilet paper, can you stop hoggin’ the mirror, please? And I suggest you move along before you piss off everyone in this bathroom and wind up where you belong.” Kira gaped down at her and the girl cracked her knuckles. “In the toilet.”

  Stammering, Kira grabbed her bag and marched out.

  I laughed, glancing between my two new best friends. “Wow, thanks.”

  “Didn’t think you needed the save, but I couldn’t listen to it anymore,” the girl in silver said.

  “Same,” agreed the other girl.

  “So, is your boyfriend a dick?” The silver girl said, fixing her lipstick. I stared at her. She was an elegant, Native American woman with dark hair that fell all the way down her back.

  “He’s being one right now,” I muttered.

  “Sounds like you need a drink,” the other girl said, and I glanced at her, standing on my other side. She had Latino in her, I could tell, with her dark curly hair caught in a low ponytail, brown eyes, and bright, flawless tanned skin.

  Standing between them, I suddenly felt like a dowdy marshmallow dyed green. “Um, thanks, but I should probably find Kira and apologize. I can’t take out my annoyance at him on a coworker.”

  “A drink will help, though,” silver-dress girl suggested slyly. “Liquid courage. And if you get a drink with us, we’ll come with you to make sure toilet paper girl doesn’t claw your eyes out.”

  Smiling, I nodded and assented, laughing, “Okay, okay, twist my arm.”

  “I love your dress, by the way,” the flame-dressed girl said. “It’s gorgeous with your hair and eyes. Perfect colors. You look like a springtime nymph.”