Had I forgotten anything. Oh. “On Monday and Tuesday, I’d finalise plans with the head team. Presentation to the tribe would be on a Tuesday evening.”
I tapped my mouth. “Yes, that’s what I’d do. Delegation. Prioritising.”
Rhona piped up first. “Gross. You like these questions.”
Growing up, school was a reprieve for me. I loved it. If funds had allowed, I would have started college early.
Herc pursed his lips. “Well thought-out, Andie.”
Really? I bit back a pleased smile.
“Question two,” he announced.
Rhona slid down the back seat and pretended to die.
“You have a plan. But for it to work, you need the help of other stewards that you aren’t very familiar with. The plan requires resources they have—that you don’t. Do you abandon the plan or ask for help?”
“Ask for help,” I said.
Rhona continued dying on the back seat.
Herc slid me a look. “It has come to my attention that your ex-boyfriend is smashing windows at a house you’re trying to sell.”
Dammit, Wade. I was reasonably sure Rhona didn’t know.
She stopped dying. “What?”
I sighed. “Yeah. Pretty sure he’s the culprit.”
“This boyfriend, what does he do for a living?”
“He’s a lawyer.”
Herc’s scary glare arrived. “Then he understands the law. Several of our stewards are lawyers, Andie. You need only ask.”
I shook my head but stopped, remembering his leadership question. “To be clear, my answer just now was for a business question not a personal question.”
“If you need help, is there a difference? What do you lose by asking?”
Emotional distance. Give people an inch and they’d take a mile. Soon, they’d ask for favours in return, and I had nothing to offer them.
“I have a plan for Logan,” I muttered.
“Put him in a freezing river and whip him with reeds,” Rhona burst out.
Yikes. “That’s Plan C, cuz. I’ve called the police. I’ll call Logan tonight.”
“And if the windows are smashed again?” Herc guided us off the main north road.
I set my jaw. “Then you may hear from me.”
May.
He nodded. “Any time of the day or night just give the word. Our lawyers will smother him.”
His words were meant to be reassuring, I supposed, but letting him assume that role was so foreign.
I tried to swallow down panicked edginess cloying my throat.
Herc parked between two trees. “Rhona, please go on ahead.”
She cast me a long look before obeying. Couldn’t blame her. He’d used his no-shit voice.
Herc faced me. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. You’re my niece and one of my stewards. That means that I’ll protect you. A woman should be able to stand on her own two feet, and I’m not seeking to take that away from you, Andie. But you can lean on me and Rhona. On the other stewards too. You’ll be stronger for it, not weaker. And you don’t need to give anything that you don’t want to.”
I grabbed the door handle. “Okay, thanks.”
“To be part of a crowd but keep yourself apart is a lonely existence. Take it from someone who once thought he had to live like that to be a leader. Take a risk on us. You may be surprised.”
“Roger that,” I answered, one leg out the door.
“One more thing before you escape.” Amusement coloured his voice. “I can see that you loved Ragna dearly. I want you to know that for stewards of this land, our loved ones never leave. Their hearts pulse in the soil and trees. Their souls clean the air we breathe. In this place, for our tribe, death does not separate family and friends. Andie, you will never be alone. Not ever.”
The words slipped out. “Is that what I feel when I’m out in the trees?” My mother?
Herc’s throat worked. “Yes. That’s your family. Your tribe.”
You will never be alone. Not ever.
I couldn’t count all the times Mum said the same thing to me, but I’d stopped believing her after the cancer diagnosis. Everyone left, and I’d accepted that somewhere along the line.
So why did I so desperately want to believe my uncle?
Sighing, I relaxed my grip on the door. “I found out more about Murphy.”
“Like what?”
“Apparently he wasn’t the dropkick I thought he was. Mum called Nairee soon after the rock-climbing incident.”
Herc stared for a beat. “She did?”
I nodded. “Don’t say anything to Jiani, please. It would hurt her feelings to know Mum didn’t call her too. Murphy didn’t leave me and Mum. He came back here for some reason—to face something in his past. Mum seemed to believe he might be in trouble when she spoke to Nairee.”
“Did she say from who?”
“Nope. Nairee just got that vibe.”
Mum barely spoke about Murphy throughout my life. I’d squeezed the same abandonment explanation from her every few years until my mid-teens, but I never asked more because I could see how much she hated him.
Everything, the journals and her friends, refuted that and displayed how much she loved him. So why did she never pay him the respect of speaking well about him in death? To his daughter, no less.
Her anger had to do with why he returned to Deception Valley. There was no other explanation. What I wanted to know was if Murphy’s reason for returning here, and his and Mum’s reason for leaving the valley, were one and the same.
“Do you know anything about Murphy’s incident?”
Herc grimaced. “I was there that day. A group of us were climbing, so yes. He didn’t anchor properly, and his rope was faulty, they said. He fell to his death.”
“He never mentioned anything about coming back to us?”
“As I said, he was cagey with any details about Ragna. It’s something that I’ve held against him to this day. More so since you walked into our lives. If I’d known you existed, I would have searched for you without fail.” His voice cracked, and he looked out the window.
My throat tightened. I really wish Herc had found us.
“You know.” I licked my lips. “Maybe I will meet with Murphy’s family.”
He looked at me. “Want me to set it up?”
I hesitated, a yes on my lips. I swallowed it back. “Perhaps when I’ve finished Mum’s journals.”
“Just give me the word and it’s done.”
My shoulders eased. “Thank you.”
I reached for the handle.
“One more thing,” Herc said, opening his door.
“Yeah?” I glanced back.
“Gerry tells me you’re ready to enter the grid with a mentor. You’re up for Clay on Wednesday.”
22
A clipboard slapped down on the table nearly oversetting my coffee—a free coffee because I name-dropped the Thanas.
I glared at Hairy, snatching Mum’s journal out of harm’s way. “Do you mind?”
“Books over movies,” he muttered, checking off an answer. “Is that a sudoku book there? Interesting, interesting. Have time for a few questions?”
“Sascha sent you to do his dirty work again.” I covered the completed sudoku with my coffee cup and returned to reading the journal. I was up to I’m 15. She’d really ramped up the Murphy mentions.
I did something today. With someone.
But I’m pretty sure Herc sneaks in to read these, so I’m not saying what.
Butt out, Herc!
Was it gross to read about whatever my parents had done as teens? I was so desperate for any information on them at this point, the sexual details flew straight over my head.
A camera clicked.
I lifted my head. “Did you just take a photo of me?”
“Yeah. For your files.” Hairy bowed.
Files.
Plural.
“But,” the Luther said conversationally, “Sascha is
doing the real grunt work. He’s not a lazy male. You’ll find him to be a very hard worker. Great genes. We’re just honing on the finer details. This man knows how to delegate his time to focus on the important things in life.”
Was this now a sales pitch?
I glanced around. “Is Sascha watching this?”
“Does stalking mean something different where you’re from?”
Very funny. There went my attempt to relax before Clay tonight. “Yeah, I’m not answering your questions. You’re pissing me off. Tell Sascha to stop or I’ll doubt the quality of his genetics.”
“He can’t stop. We all heard him tell you that. Would you say you’re reasonable in day-to-day decisions?”
Why me? Actually. “I’m not denying what he said. I only have his word for it, of course. To me, it seems his control is lacking. Not a desirable trait for any female looking to breed.”
Hairy’s flippancy dissolved. “Sascha has the best control of us all.”
My smile was extra sweet. “Then he can figure out how to stop stalking me.”
Never thought I’d say that sentence.
“Impossible,” Hairy said, consulting his board. “Favourite season?”
I threw a bun at him. “Go away.”
The werewolf caught the bun and took a bite, peering around the café. Only locals filled it today.
Hairy drawled a smile, and I tensed.
“It’s a simple question, Andie,” he said loudly. “The other night, did you prefer anal sex or—”
I lunged over the table and slapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t you dare.” I’d already name-dropped the Thanas. Even if Walter Nash hadn’t been in here spreading the word about me, they knew who I was.
His dark eyes danced.
“Answer my questions,” the wolf said.
“Get fucked.”
He called out. “Not the beads, you say? What about the dild—”
This time my slap was more of a punch. My cheeks burned as the other patrons paused their conversations.
“I’ll answer five questions,” I hissed.
Hairy waved cheerfully at the occupants of the other tables and they returned to their coffees.
“Make it quick,” I said. “And to be clear, this is a one-off. Next time, I’ll just walk out.”
His teeth gleamed. “First question. You should know that at this proximity, I can smell a lie.”
He could? That’s not what the tribe thought. They thought that was confined to a Luther’s four-legged form.
“What’s your favourite movie?” The werewolf leaned in.
I lied. “Mary Poppins. The new version.”
His eyes narrowed. “I told you not to lie.”
Ha. “The Matrix.”
He clicked his tongue. “Question two. Favourite colour?”
“Brass.”
“Lie,” the werewolf stated.
“Not a lie,” I said.
Hairy frowned. “That was truth though. Weird. I’ll put a question mark next to that one.”
Maybe there were limitations to their truth-nostrils. My favourite colour really was brass.
“Question three. Bath or shower?”
“Shower. No one has time for baths.”
The werewolf jotted down my answer, and the strangeness of this encounter hit me square between the eyes. A werewolf was taking a survey from me—to pass on to my supernatural stalker—and I was participating. “Sascha isn’t really following me around, right?”
Hairy grinned. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Though you may wake up with things missing.”
My mouth dried. I couldn’t find my pyjamas or bed throw the other day. I’d woken to the curtains flapping around though I recalled shutting the windows. “That’s crossing the line. I’m serious.”
“So is he. Male Luthers never joke about meets. This is the most important thing he may ever do—an interview to his dream job. He’s showing you why you should pick him.”
Breeding with me was Sascha’s dream job. “What do you mean?”
He cocked his head, eyes sliding left as he concentrated, and I gasped.
“You’re listening to him right now!”
Hairy’s dark eyes gleamed. “Question four. Favourite subject in school?”
“Economics.”
“Thank you for your honesty,” he said solemnly.
I snorted despite myself. “You’re such a brat.”
This gal needed more coffee in her for this. I gulped back the rest. Hairy snatched the cup, sniffing.
“Cinnamon latte.”
“That’s five,” I quipped, grabbing my purse.
“Good try, auburn. I didn’t ask a question.”
“Don’t call me that.” I bit back a sigh when he jotted that down too. “I have a question for you though. Who pulled me from the river?”
“You really need to ask? Sascha is the strongest wolf in the pack. And he had incentive to run really, really fast. He’s intelligent too. Did I mention hardworking?” He cocked his head, concentrating again. He nodded twice. “And extremely good-looking.”
“I prefer ugly, lazy, stupid, slow, and weak males.”
“Since when?”
“Since right now.”
“Question five,” Hairy announced. “Would you class yourself as a mummy’s girl or a daddy’s girl?”
The smile slipped from my face, and his was quick to follow.
“I’m not answering that. Ask a different question.”
He hesitated. “No. That’s question five.”
“Ask another or this is over.”
“Are you a mummy’s girl, Andie? Or a daddy’s girl?”
I sent my chair skittering over the ground. Leaving the werewolf sitting alone, I hurried from the café.
Hunkering against the chilly wind today, I sidestepped a bowing Mandy on the way down, and then a bowing Leroy.
Bursting into my apartment, I slammed the door shut, sliding down the other side. My breaths were harsh and uneven, and the bastards could probably hear.
Damn werewolf caught me unawares. Maybe the stress of the last two weeks was getting to me.
Sniffing hard, I rattled a text off to Wade.
Where can I get a frequency generator?
My phone rang.
Speedy.
“Hey, Wade,” I stood to find a tissue.
“Who the fuck is Wade?”
I wrenched the phone back, staring at the name. Logan. Fuck, I forgot to block him again.
I put the call on speaker—wolves be dammed.
“None of your business,” I replied.
“Imagine my surprise when I returned home from work last night and found my house windows smashed. All of them.”
My eyes widened. Oh, shit. “Who did that?”
“Don’t play dumb,” he seethed. “I know it was you.”
It really wasn’t, but his wording interested me. “Why would you think that?”
Silence.
Yep. Logan was my little window-smasher. Piece of shit. “I don’t know who broke your windows, Logan. I’ve had the same issue at my house though. I called the police and they promised to monitor the area. You may want to do the same.”
His scoff made me wonder how I ever found him attractive, but hate brought out the worst in people. This wasn’t really Logan—though his petty acts now made me glad I dodged the bullet of staying with him.
“You can expect a civil suit for property damage in your inbox tomorrow,” Logan stated.
The line went dead.
I resisted the strong urge to hurl my phone across the room. I’d told two people about the broken windows. Mandy and Wade.
Wade told Herc, and we’d discussed the matter already.
Which left Mandy and whomever she told. Which I strongly suspected was…
I slapped my hands down on the kitchen table and marched to the bay windows. Flinging them wide, I hollered, “Sascha Greyson. Get in here right now.”
; I’d wring his damn neck.
Knock knock.
Wrenching open the door, I scowled at a delivery man.
He paled. “I h-have a delivery for Andie Booker?”
I snatched the pen and signed for the package, tearing it open with my teeth as I slammed the door in his face.
A frequency generator. Whoa, Wade. That was impossibly efficient.
“You called, Miss Booker?”
Shrieking, I whirled to find Sascha sitting on the window seat. “Jesus. Couldn’t you use the door?”
His honey eyes were sombre. “Yes.”
I planted myself before him. “Is that the first time you’ve come in that way?”
“Like this, yes.”
Which meant no. He probably just held his tongue differently. “I want my pyjamas and throw back.”
His expression smoothed. “Is that why you screamed my name down the street?”
Did anyone see him scale the damn wall?
I scowled. “Did you, or did you not, smash a bunch of windows at my ex’s place?”
Sascha’s brows climbed. “That would be impossible.”
I hadn’t seen him since yesterday morning. If he drove there and back, it wasn’t impossible. “Did you send one of your wolves to do it?”
“That would be impossible,” he repeated.
“I’m not joking.”
Sascha rose slowly. “Hairy upset you. I apologize.”
“That’s not what this is about.” I crossed my arms.
He circled behind me. “Are you sure?”
I didn’t answer, refusing to turn in a circle to keep him in sight.
“I’d never intentionally make you sad.”
My chest rose. “I’m asking you to be honest, Sascha. Did you have anything to do with what happened to Logan’s house?”
The werewolf stopped behind me. “Yes.”
“He’s filing a civil suit against me.”
“It has been handled.”
What? “I don’t need or want you to handle my problems! Back off.”
Shifter Wars: Supernatural Battle (Werewolf Dens Book 1) Page 23
