Frost Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  “Were you expecting someone?” I asked, frowning.

  She shook her head. “No. Were you?”

  “No.”

  Chapter Nine - Jessica

  I peered through the living room blinds that overlooked the front yard and sighed. “It's just Karen,” I said, waving him back from the front door. “She's a friend, it's okay. Probably was driving by and saw that I was home.”

  He nodded and backed away.

  I walked over to the front entrance, then realized something. I turned back to him. “Hey, Richard.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can you disarm while she's here? There's a drawer in the kitchen by the oven that you can stick it in.”

  “I don't–”

  I raised a finger, silencing him. “Richard. I don't want her to know I had to hire armed security because of these threats, okay? I don't want to worry her.”

  He groaned and nodded, heading to the kitchen. “Fine,” he said, “but just don't tell my boss.”

  “He let us get away with a pajama party,” I reminded him as the driver side door to Karen's BMW opened outside on the driveway, “why not this?”

  I heard him laugh as he pulled the drawer open. A moment later, I heard the drawer shutting just as Karen knocked on my front door.

  “Hey, Jess!” she shouted. “You home?”

  I cringed a little in front of Richard. Karen Ray was, how do we say…unique? We reconnected after high school when she moved back into the area a year earlier to take care of her ailing mother. Both of us had run in the same circle, though she'd never been a cheerleader like me or Sheila (go Bears!). But we'd all hung out. In fact, she and Sheila had been best friends before I’d returned home, reconnecting on their own after high school and college. Now we saw each other a lot. Sheila and I would go get drinks pretty frequently, and drive into the next town to see a movie every so often. But, while Sheila was down to earth despite her parent's wealth, Karen never really seemed to understand why I couldn't just take off for Vegas or New York for the weekend.

  I counted to ten before opening the door with a loud, “Hey Karen!” I gave her a huge smile. “What are you doing here, girl?”

  “Just driving by,” she said as she stepped into my entryway and gave me a big hug, “and saw you were home already.”

  Karen was, to put it loosely, a bombshell of a blonde. I thought so, at least. Long blonde hair, bright blue eyes set below perfectly sculpted eyebrows I could never quite match, and beautifully full lips that always seemed to have the perfect amount of gloss. And, of course, none of it ever, ever, ever got on her perfectly white, straight teeth. She was the girl who, despite never being on the cheerleading squad, always seemed to date the quarterback and get elected Prom Queen.

  How we were friends, I had no idea. But we were, and I hugged her back as she tried to strangle the life from me with her love.

  Richard chose that moment to step out of the kitchen, and Karen looked over at him, breaking our embrace.

  “Well, who do we have here?” Karen asked, her voice brightening up as she glanced from my security blanket to me. I tracked her eyes as they looked down at his left hand, presumably for a ring. “Company, I take it?”

  He smiled and scratched the back of his head as if he were uneasy. I realized then that the only thing he knew to do was to avoid having Karen think he was a one-man security detail for me. “I'm, uh, Richard Murdoch, I'm, uh–”

  “My friend,” I interjected, stepping around Karen and going to his side, putting my arm around his waist.

  He stiffened for a brief moment, then seemed to relax into my touch.

  “We, ahem, just recently met.”

  Karen's eyes widened a little as he reflexively put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, a smile forming on his lips as I glanced up at him. “Yeah. Just, you know, met.”

  I almost melted from that arm around my shoulders, too. It was just so warm and strong and protective. I breathed deep, inhaling his scent for the first time from so close, his deodorant and his general manly musk. I shivered a little, smiling despite knowing that this was all just an act. “And I was just about to cook him my Spaghetti Bolognese for the first time,” I added, knowing exactly what I was insinuating.

  I mean, I didn't want to lie to her. Karen was my friend, after all. But, at the same time, I didn't want her getting wrapped up in all this death threat business. Sheila was already kind of involved in it, I guess, but why should it all spin out of control and pull my entire life into it? Karen didn't deserve that, did she? But, besides that, there was something inside me that screamed for me to be protective of Richard. Especially against Karen. She'd jump on any moving man, as long as he had two legs, and a—well, it wasn’t that hard to guess.

  “Well,” Karen said, nodding and smiling, “guess I'll leave you two to start supper, then.”

  I reluctantly broke away from Richard's embrace and crossed the room to her. “Well, it was good of you to stop by,” I said, pulling her into another hug. “Sorry we couldn't chat longer.”

  She laughed. “Don't mind me, honey. I was just going to see if you wanted to go into town to grab a drink, anyways.” She squeezed me tight. “But, since you're occupied, I figure I'll just give Sheila a call.”

  “Richard,” Karen said, “lovely to meet you. You two should call me sometime soon, we can all go out for dinner.”

  “Uh, yeah,” Richard agreed with a smile. “Sounds good. Sure, sometime soon.”

  And with that, she was gone, her designer boots crunching on loose rocks on the walkway, then tramping through the gravel.

  “Well,” Richard said after a moment, “that was interesting.” She got in her BMW, shut the door behind her, then seemed to wait for a moment.

  “Sorry about that,” I said, making a face. “I just didn't, you know, want her pulled into this whole thing. That's all.”

  “Say no more,” he replied with a shrug. “Just glad to be of assistance.”

  “Not going to charge me extra for that, are you?” I asked as I squeezed by him and went into the kitchen.

  “I'll talk to Peter about it,” he said easily, “but I don't think it'll be an issue. Now, if I have to do dinner duty, that might be an issue.”

  I laughed as I began to pull out the ingredients I'd need: canned tomatoes, tomato paste, some ground beef that I'd picked up a couple days before, a bunch of seasonings one would expect in Italian food, and some Romano cheese and wine.

  “Cook often?” he asked as he slinked past me, surprisingly graceful for his large size, and grabbed the coffee pot.

  “A little bit,” I admitted. “Mostly just for myself, though, but occasionally for Sheila.”

  “Not for Karen,” he teased.

  I rolled my eyes. “Karen's got certain ideas about food,” I confided, “that I can't match. She takes pictures of her meals when we go out.”

  He laughed. “I'll admit, that is a little strange.”

  “She's sweet, though,” I said. “And I've known her forever. She and Sheila are probably two of my only friends left in Enchanted Rock, you know.”

  “Why'd you move back, then?” he asked, taking a sip of coffee.

  “The mountains,” I said with a smile as I tried to reach one of the pots I'd stuffed away at the top of my cabinets. I went to climb up on the counter, not even thinking about it.

  Richard touched my shoulder before I could climb all the way. “I got it.” He pulled down the pot for me and set it aside.

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling and blushing. “Can you make julienne fries, too?”

  He laughed and stepped back from the stove. “Actually, I think I've completely outlived my usefulness when it comes to the kitchen.”

  “Oh yeah?” I asked. “You just think that.” I pulled a can opener out from the drawer and slapped it in his hand. “You can work one of these, right?”

  And, like that, we started dinner. All that grace and quiet confidence seemed to fade from him as soon
as we got into the cooking, but he never was afraid to ask what was next, or what I was doing. The recipe was one my grandmother had taught me, and I knew it by heart, so I walked him through the steps as I poured two glasses of wine.

  We talked about his life in the military, but not the war itself. I didn't want to pry. One of my friends from school was a vet who'd seen combat, and I knew enough to not try and dredge up old feelings. Richard and I discussed our families and our parents. He'd lost his, while mine had run from each other to opposite ends of the country as soon as I was in college. It wasn't the same, but as often as I saw them, it kind of felt that way. Especially when I thought about the brave front they'd tried, and failed, to put up while I was in middle school and high school.

  “Just, like, get a divorce, alright?” I said as I tasted the sauce. “That's what I wanted to scream at them my freshmen year in high school, you know? Leave me out of the fights.”

  He nodded, laughing a little. “Yeah, I know how you feel. I'd rather have had a single mom growing up than have all the fighting.”

  I nodded, smiling as the first glass of wine began to take hold. “Sheila and Karen, they kind of understand. They were there for the fights, but Sheila's parents love each other, and Karen's father passed away when we were all in college. Her mom still hasn't remarried, due to the illness, but they loved her to death, gave her whatever she wanted.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “It's tough to try and find people that actually understand where you're coming from.”

  “How's that pasta coming?” I asked. “I'm starving.”

  He checked the time. “Almost there. Smells delicious.”

  After we ate supper, we took Eli and Wallach down to the creek for a supervised walk and called it a night. It was early, but the stress of the day had exhausted me. I laid out some blankets and a pillow on the couch, so he could get some sleep when Peter took over outside, and we said our goodnights. I had to pry Eli and Wallach away from him so they'd come to bed with me.

  As I lay there in bed, listening to all the night noises that accompany a secluded cabin in the country, I couldn't get Richard out of my thoughts. I couldn't help but feel like there was something between us, some sort of connection. Did he feel the same way about me? Was he tossing and turning, unable to sleep? Or was I just another job, identical to all the rest? Of course he wasn't like other guys I'd dated. But maybe that had been my problem? I'd always dated the same type.

  Whoa, there, Jessica, my mind reminded the rest of me. You're getting ahead of yourself here. You hardly even know this guy, and he's spending time with you because he's drawing a paycheck. That's not exactly the basis for a long term relationship. Besides, shouldn't you worry about other, more important things? Like who the hell is terrorizing you and forcing you to hire private security?

  “Shut up, brain,” I muttered as I rolled over in bed, producing a low grumble from Wallach.

  But, even as I drifted off to sleep, Richard kept invading my thoughts and feelings. Those gray eyes of his, those strong arms, how honest he seemed, how sure and confident he was. Until he got behind a chef's knife, of course.

  And then, finally, I was out like a light.

  Little did I know, I should have listened to my brain. There were bigger, more important things to worry about than Richard's dreamy eyes.

  Much more important.

  Chapter Ten - Richard

  I lay there on the couch, fighting my urges. The first was to go barreling off into the woods, full tilt, to run as free as the wind, twice as fast.

  There was no fucking way that was going to happen, though, even with Peter outside. Not in a million years, with my client curled up in the room next door. Even though I was curled up on the couch in just my boxer briefs, I was still on watch. I was confident, of course, that even if I was dead asleep I'd still come to in a heartbeat if someone kicked through the front door or tried to sneak through the back. Between me, Eli, and Wallach, we had this place secured.

  The second urge, though, was even harder to fight. It was stronger than anything I'd ever felt, even worse than my blood growling at me to run wild through the woods, to howl at the moon, to chase down the prey with Wallach and Eli at my side. My blood sang at me. The crazy part of my mind told me to tear into Jessica's bedroom and tell her exactly how I felt about her, about how I knew from the top of my head to the soles of my feet that we were supposed to be together even though we hadn't known each other even for a whole day. To make love to her, to make her mine, and to never let her go.

  I flipped over on the couch, repositioned my pillow, and snuggled deeper into the covers. Because all that, of course, sounded bat-shit even inside my own head. I rolled back over again, facing the back of the couch. That didn't work for me, so I switched sides again, my eyes squeezed tight against the tempting moonlight streaming in through the blinds and around the curtains.

  What was going on with me? Was this just a shifter thing? Or did all men go through this when they'd met an amazing woman?

  As far as I knew, though, none of my pack mates had ever had this happen to them. At least, of course, they'd never spoken about it when we were sitting around shooting the shit, kicking back beers after a long day. I guess shifter men weren't all that different from human ones, though. Even during my time in the military, I'd never really talked to the other guys about something like this. I mean, we'd talked about girls back home, about how much we missed civilian women we could actually date.

  But even back then, the longing had never been anything like this.

  My phone buzzed quietly on the little side table near the couch. It was a text from Peter Frost.

  I'm still outside, watching the cabin, it read. Go run and get some of that nervous energy out. I know you need it. Can practically smell it from here.

  I grinned, not even caring about how he'd known. All that mattered was that my pack mate—my pack leader—was watching out for me.

  Just a quickie, I typed back, hitting send.

  I got up off the couch and, still wearing just my boxer-briefs, padded softly to the back door on bare feet.

  I unlocked the deadbolt and slipped out back, the nighttime air cool and soothing across my skin as I stepped out onto the deck. I stripped off my boxer briefs, baring my naked body to the woods, and walked off the wooden structure. My toes sank into the soil of the little copse of trees, dead leaves, and pine needles crunching between my toes, the cool air wafting over my nude form.

  I took a deep breath as I stepped out into the grass, my head thrown back, my arms outstretched to either side. As soon as the moonlight hit my skin, it was like my body took that one little instance of relief and everything rushed towards it, like a balloon popped with a needle, exploding with excitement.

  I changed, my body shifting, my skin sprouting fur. It was like the worst canine puberty ever, my teeth growing longer, my snout extending, my ears stretching and repositioning, my bones reforming. I fell to my hands and knees. My arms lengthened and my legs shortened until all that remained were four powerful wolfen limbs covered in a thick coat of brown fur. It was painful, but it was a good kind of pain—the type of pain one gets after a hard workout or a marathon. The pain of growth, of transformation.

  At the back of my mind, I knew I shouldn't have changed this close to the house in case I'd woken Eli and Wallach, but I had to give into one of the urges thrumming through my body, and the one to change and run had been the less messy of the two.

  I bounded off into the grass, down through the little creek that burbled behind Jessica's cabin, splashing through the icy water to clear my mind.

  How exactly had Peter known I'd need to shift tonight? How had he been sure I'd need this release? Was this something he was aware of, a part of shifter lore I just didn't know because my father hadn't been around to teach me? Or was it something that even my father would have withheld, making sure I didn't just placebo effect myself into believing it?

  There was so much about shift
ers, my own people, I still didn't understand. About my culture, about the blood rushing through my veins, even after all these years.

  But as I sprinted to one of the nearby mountains, panting with my tongue lolling out the side of my jaws, I tried to forget about all the questions I wouldn’t be able to answer on my own. This was a time to let my brain clear itself, to rid myself of the tension and chaos for now.

  Something told me that the threat to our client was very real, and Frost Security was the only thing standing in harm's way. Even if Jessica never felt a single drop of affection for me, she'd still need my help in the morning.

  Chapter Eleven – Jessica

  Groggily, I came to the next morning, with only the light from my digital alarm clock casting a glow in the room with its soft green hue. I squinted at the clock and saw that is was six-fifty. I didn't get any morning sun on this side of the cabin, which always made it a little difficult to get moving. But I managed to stumble out of bed and pull my robe on over my pajama bottoms and old purple and gold high school t-shirt.

  Careful not to wake Eli and Wallach, I slipped out to the living room, past my bodyguard's snuggled up and sleeping form, and padded into the kitchen in my fuzzy socks. Mornings in the mountains were pretty chilly, even during the summer, so I always kept my feet covered. I started up the coffee with some of the beans I'd ground the night before and looked around the kitchen, wondering if I should bother making breakfast or just stop by the bakery on my way to the Curious Turtle.

  As I was looking around, I noticed some pine needles and maple leaves the boys must have dragged in last night. I frowned, more upset with myself for not sweeping up the mess before I went to bed the night before. Guess I must have had more wine than I'd thought. I grabbed the broom and dust pan from beside the fridge and began sweeping up the tiles to clear the area.

  As the coffee began its drip, my boys began their inevitable scratching at the bedroom door. I headed back through the living room, creeping along past the couch where Richard lay, and opened up the bedroom door. “Come on, guys,” I whispered, “back door.”