by Lori Drake
Grave Rites
Grant Wolves Book 6
Lori Drake
Published by Clockwork Cactus Press
651 N US Highway 183 Ste 335 #107
Leander, TX 78641 USA
GRAVE RITES (GRANT WOLVES BOOK 6)
Copyright © 2020 Lori Drake
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means whatsoever without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Please refer all pertinent questions to the publisher.
First Edition: July 2020
Cover by Christian Bentulan
Edited by Steve Statham
For Aunt Sissie,
who’s read every book
and forgives me for all the swears.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Want more?
Author’s Note
1
“Can I open my eyes yet?”
Joey snickered as she maneuvered Chris through the open door, meeting the realtor’s eyes in passing. The perky brunette cast her a conspiratorial smile and wink, holding the door open but lingering in the hallway as Joey’d asked when they’d set up this little ambush.
“You’re blindfolded, babe. If your eyes are closed too, that’s all on you.” Joey glanced around the room, assuring herself that everything was in order. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she frowned inwardly. Joey Grant didn’t get butterflies in her stomach. She ate butterflies for breakfast. Toasted. With nonfat milk and slivered almonds.
Chris huffed. “I know where we are. I can smell it. If you want to dance, you don’t have to drag me blindfolded to the studio.” Pausing, he tilted his head and his voice softened. “I know I’ve been busy. I’m sorry if you feel like this is the only way I’d—”
Joey cut him off with a kiss. By then, they stood in the middle of a rehearsal room with Chris facing the mirror. “Shut up and take the blindfold off,” she murmured against his lips.
“I dunno, this is kind of nice. Maybe we should use it at home…”
Smirking, Joey yanked the strip of fabric off Chris’s head.
“Ow, careful!” Chris rubbed at the back of his head. “You got some hair in the knot.”
“It’ll grow back.” She stepped away and gestured around the room. “What do you think?”
Chris’s blue eyes lifted to the ceiling and roamed the room a bit, though he didn’t turn from his spot. “This isn’t… where are we?”
Joey glanced over her shoulder. Yup. The banner was perfectly visible in the mirrored wall behind her. Rolling her eyes, she grasped Chris’s shoulders and turned him around to face the opposite wall, where the name they’d picked out years ago for their future dance studio was emblazoned across a large painted banner: Staged Right Dance Studio
Her keen ears caught his slight inhalation of breath, and she ducked under his arm while slipping hers around his waist. His arm settled across her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. Which, she supposed, it was. The butterflies made their presence known again. Her wolf snapped its jaws at them in irritation.
She squeezed him. “I know, we always talked about it as a ‘someday’ kind of thing, but I saw this space open up and it’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. It’s in Everett, so the commute won’t be bad. The price is terrific.”
“You want to open a dance studio? Now?” The surprise in his voice was unmistakable.
“Why not? We’ve got decades ahead of us in this area, and you only live once, right?”
He blinked. “Does that mean you don’t want to compete anymore?”
“I dunno.” She shrugged, fighting the urge to smooth the furrows in his forehead with her fingers. “I mean, not per se, but we’ve been off the ballroom circuit for almost a year and it’s going to be harder for us to train and compete at the same level now that we have responsibilities that aren’t, well, training and competing.”
Chris drummed his fingers against his thigh and studied the sign for a few moments more, then gave the room a closer look. “Those responsibilities might preclude the time that it’d take to start a business right now, too.”
“You’d think so. But that’s the great thing. The current owner is looking to retire. She listed the building, but when I reached out to her... She’s willing to sell us the whole business. We’d start with a full roster of students already signed up for classes and instructors to teach them.”
“Is it in the black?” The words were laced with reluctance.
Joey wobbled her head. “Mostly.”
Picking up on her hedging, he glanced down at her and lifted a brow.
“Okay, so there’s a little work to be done. Enrollment has been down the last quarter. But with our names attached to it, I’m sure it’ll pick right back up. I mean, our titles still carry weight.”
“Only if we’re doing the instructing,” Chris murmured, rubbing his jaw. “I don’t know, babe. It’s… a lot.”
Disappointment ate at Joey’s insides. Springing this on him had been a risk, but she’d hoped that he’d be as enthusiastic about the prospect as she was. She’d been teaching a few classes a week for a while now—in between crises, anyway—and they were the highlights of her weeks. Plus, a studio was something they could grow and build together, something that would bring their lives some much needed stability. An investment in their future.
“You don’t want to.” She did her best to keep her voice neutral but wasn’t entirely successful. He knew her too well, had too much experience reading her.
Chris gathered her in his arms, his expression turning gentle. “I didn’t say that.”
“Well, you’re not exactly jumping for joy either. I thought you’d be into this. It’s what we talked about doing when we have to retire from competition, and it seems like that’s coming sooner rather than later.”
“I know. But that was before… everything. We’ve got a lot going on right now, what with pack leadership and Colt’s trial, and Sara’s going to pop any day… it’s a lot.”
Joey bit her lower lip. He wasn’t wrong. Their friend and packmate was on trial for a double homicide, and their first niece or nephew’s arrival was imminent. Still… this was a hell of an opportunity. She could press the issue. She wanted to press the issue. But she knew it would only lead to a fight, and that was the last thing either of them needed. Swallowing her objections along with a heavy dose of disappointment, she met his eyes and summoned a smile. “Just think about it.
We don’t have to decide today. Just think about it. Okay?”
He nodded and bent to kiss her forehead, then glanced at his watch. “I’ll think about it. You still up for giving me a lift to the courthouse?”
“You betcha. I just need to have a word with the realtor on the way out, and we’ll be on our way.”
As they walked toward the door, Chris glanced at his watch again. “Okay, but make it fast. I don’t want to be late, and traffic this time of the morning is a nightmare.”
“When Adam gets back, we’ll have to put him to work on that transponder.”
He laughed, a rich sound that chased away at least some of her disappointment. “I think you mean transporter, love.”
“So I’m not fluent in nerd-speak. Whatever.” Joey tugged the door open and followed Chris out into the lobby, wincing at the hopeful look on the realtor’s face.
“Ready for the grand tour?” she asked.
Oh right, the tour. Chris hadn’t even wanted to see the rest of the place.
Heart heavy, Joey suppressed a sigh and flashed the woman an apologetic smile. “Actually, he has somewhere he needs to be. I forgot.” The lie spilled easily from her tongue. Too easily.
Part of her hoped Chris might contradict her, but he just smiled and shook the realtor’s hand politely before leaning down to kiss Joey’s cheek. “I’ll go get the car.”
While he headed for the door, the realtor took out her phone and brought up her calendar. “I have some time this afternoon if you want to reschedule, but the studio will be open then, so we’ll have to be discreet.”
Joey watched the door swing shut behind Chris, chewing on her lip. Somehow, she had to convince Chris that this was the right next step for them. It wasn’t until he threw up a roadblock that she’d realized just how much she wanted it. Needed it. They’d been ricocheting from one crisis to another for the better part of a year like balls in a pinball machine. He might not be ready, but it was time for them to get on with their lives, in every respect.
“Ms. Grant?”
Blinking, Joey shook her head to clear it. “Sorry, what?”
“Would this afternoon work? To reschedule.”
“Uh, no, that won’t be necessary.”
“Oh, okay.” She tucked her phone away. “Well, call me if you have any more questions.”
Joey stared at the woman, surprised she’d let it go that easily. Either she was bad at her job, or there was enough interest in the property that she wasn’t terribly worried about Joey and Chris bailing on her.
Worry seized her. What if they waited too long? What if someone snatched the building up while she was still convincing Chris to move forward? It was priced to move, in an up and coming neighborhood. The two-story brick façade with its tall windows lit the studios with magnificent natural light. It was perfect. Exactly what she’d imagined their studio would be. She could see it all so clearly. Chris choreographing for recitals and competitions. Both of them educating the next generation of dancers. Little girls in colorful tutus spinning across the floor like pinwheels through pools of sunlight…
“Ms. Grant?”
Joey’s attention snapped back to the present. The realtor stood by the door, waiting for Joey so she could lock up after them.
“We’ll take it.” The words popped out of Joey’s mouth practically of their own accord, but she couldn’t bring herself to take them back.
“You will?” The realtor glanced out the door, then back at Joey, her expression a mixture of surprise and uncertainty.
There was still time to back out. Joey stood on the precipice of what could be the best or worst decision she’d ever made. She rubbed her thumb along the band of her engagement ring, thoughts spinning. Chris would be furious, but he’d come around. Right? He loved her, wanted what was best for her. This was what she wanted. What was best for her. For both of them. He’d understand. And if he wasn’t ready now, he would be. Eventually.
Swallowing, Joey nodded and met the realtor’s gaze evenly. Calmness came over her as she affirmed her decision. “Yes. Two thousand over asking price, contingent upon a clean inspection.” She may have been enthusiastic about the place, but Adelaide Grant hadn’t raised a fool.
The realtor, radiating confidence, smiled and nodded. “I’ll need that in writing, of course.”
“Of course.” Joey approached the door and offered a hand to shake, anyway. “I’ll get it to you before noon.”
They shook hands and parted ways. As Joey spied her car idling at the curb with Chris waiting behind the wheel, the sense of calm that’d filled her when she made her decision split and anxiety oozed in.
She hurried across the sidewalk and hopped into the passenger’s seat. Chris waited for her to buckle up before pulling away from the curb.
“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching across the console for her hand. “I know you’re really excited about this idea. I didn’t mean to rain on your parade.”
Guilt assailed her, but she tamped it down. “You don’t owe me an apology. I know you didn’t. You said you’d think about it. That’s all I ask.”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, and silence settled between them.
Her wolf stirred restlessly, disliking any sort of deception where her mate was concerned.
Relax, girl. Everything will be okay.
The words were so convincing, she almost believed them herself.
Chris stood outside the Snohomish County Courthouse, his hands in the pockets of his suit coat while he waited for his brother to finish up and join him outside. The summer sun almost made him regret waiting outside. It was sunny and clear, with the high pushing eighty-five. It reminded him of Southern California, but his spirits were too high for homesickness to get him down.
Jon had done the impossible. Okay, not impossible. But it had sure seemed impossible a week ago. He’d gotten Colt’s confession thrown out. The prosecutor’s face had been so red when the judge made her ruling that Chris half expected his eyes to pop out. Jon hadn’t batted so much as an eyelash, as if the fact that the confession should be thrown out were so obvious he hadn’t expected any other response.
Chris shouldered no small amount of guilt for Colt being on trial in the first place. It was his error in judgment, after all, that had led to the discovery of the body buried on his property and set this whole distasteful chain of events in motion.
Today’s coup hinged on small town cops bungling procedure in an extremely unusual circumstance. Colt had walked in their front door to confess, and no one specifically asked him if he was refusing counsel before taking his statement. They’d violated their own department policy. Chris smiled just thinking about it.
His smile turned into a grin as Jon stepped out of the courthouse and began walking down the steps toward him. “There he is! The man of the hour. Drinks are on me.”
Jon eyed him, his features stern. “It’s a little early for that.”
Chris rolled his eyes. “It’s five o’clock somewhere. Come on, man. It’s after noon. Have a beer with me or something.” He wasn’t eager to rush home, not after the surprise he’d gotten that morning from Joey. Though he doubted she’d expect an answer out of him so quickly, he hated to leave her hanging. It was in his nature to give her anything her heart desired, but this new scheme of hers was sudden and extreme.
“What I meant was celebrating might be premature. But a beer sounds good. Want to grab lunch?”
“Premature? Really?” Chris started walking toward the parking garage.
Jon fell in beside him. “There’s still a lot of evidence against him even without the double homicide confession. He told them where Kate’s body was buried, for Pete’s sake. I’m still trying to figure out how we’re going to spin that one.”
Chris sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. “Jeez, man. You sure know how to kill a buzz.”
“Sorry. I do have another idea, though. Buy me a basket of hot wings, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
<
br /> The notion of his highbrow attorney brother eating hot wings in a two-thousand-dollar suit was compelling enough on its own. Chris quickly agreed, and they ended up at a chain restaurant that happened to be on the way out of town.
“Okay, spill,” Chris said once their order was in.
Jon had already shed his jacket and was in the process of unfastening his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves in preparation for the feast. “I think I can get the whole case thrown out.”
Chris straightened in his seat. “What? How?”
“Leta.”
The mention of Kate’s estranged daughter brought a grimace to Chris’s face. “I can’t foresee any circumstance where Leta would lift a finger to help any of us.”
“Not willingly, no. But that doesn’t matter. I can subpoena her. Put her on the stand.”
“To what end?”
“She’s a cop.”
“Tribal police,” Chris corrected.
Jon sat back on his side of the booth, draping an arm along the top of it. “Doesn’t matter. Still a cop. She directly involved herself in a case she was personally involved in, which is an ethics violation. She didn’t identify herself as a cop, gathered evidence under false pretenses, and on top of that, all of it was outside her jurisdiction. I can get all that evidence thrown out. Fruit of the poisonous tree. There’d be so much egg all over the Sheriff’s and DA’s faces that they probably wouldn’t even get re-elected.”
Chris stared at him, mouth agape and blinking. “Why haven’t we done that?”
Jon sighed. “Colt won’t agree to it.”
