Pack of Freaks: Beasts Among Us - Book 2

by Jennifer Zamboni

  He scrambled to his feet, and I turned back.

  “We should look for the ring.” I brushed past him.

  “Do you know where it went?” he asked.

  “Not a clue.” I kicked around leaves and decaying forest debris but came up with nothing.

  I looked for the sparkle and expanded my search. I got down on my hands and knees, hoping a lower vantage point would help me out. No such luck.

  Doug joined me, but even he had to admit it was good and lost.

  He stood, shoulders rounded and dejected, just like he had left my room. “Well, it was bound to happen, wasn’t it? Do you think it means something?”

  I stood, dusting off my hands and knees. “Jewelry and wolfing don’t work together well. How could you afford it anyhow? Last I checked, you were broke.”

  “I sold my RV.”

  “You what?” My jaw dropped like a cartoon character.

  “I sold my RV,” he repeated, shrugging his shoulders.

  I chewed on the inside of my mouth, to avoid words for a moment. The RV was the only thing Doug actually owned, and he’d sold it to buy the ring I first rejected, then launched into the woods.

  Super.

  “I’m sorry.” I strode to him and dropped my forehead to his shoulder

  He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head.

  “Come on, let’s go get something to eat, I’m starving.” I was, and I had had an opportunity to eat in between my changes. Doug had done his in quick succession without even a snack.

  He nodded and grabbed my hand, twining his fingers with mine.

  I let him pull me close and throw an arm around my waist. I reciprocated, taking a moment to get into rhythm with his step so we wouldn’t awkwardly bump into each other.

  A quick snack in the now empty kitchen subdued us even further than the fight had.

  In fact, I felt . . . happy. Seriously, I submit and feel butterflies and bunnies? What the hell was happening to me?

  “I’m going to tell Percy, do you want to come with?” I nodded my head towards the kitchen door that led into the rest of the house, and thereby my route to the salon.

  “No thanks, I think I’ll go take a nap. Unless you really want me to go with you?” His scent had shifted to contentment, more to what he had smelled like before everything went down.

  “Go ahead and sleep, that’s fine.” I understood the need for a bit of solitude after his morning.

  I stood and stretched, and headed for the door.

  “Wait.” I strode back to him and grasped his face gently in my hands, leaning in until my lips found his. His arms wrapped around me as he returned my kiss. My wolf turned kitten and purred as we lost ourselves in the moment, basking in the warmth that spread through my whole body like liquid silk. Reluctantly, we pulled apart.

  “Oh,” I paused before turning the knob, “and just to warn you, no nooky again until we’re hitched.”

  He sighed heavily. “If that’s the way it has to be.”

  “It is.” I turned away so as not to see yet another one of his disappointed expressions. I hadn’t wanted to the first time. I wanted to do things right. Perhaps not the modern way, but normal in the time I came from, even if my morality lessons at the time had been less than satisfactory.

  I wound my way through the halls and to the salon, where Percy, Amanda, and Meredith were all hard at work. Fern and Toni were nowhere to be seen, so I assumed they were busy with customers as well.

  I stood off to the side, tapping my foot impatiently.

  One right after the other, the girls finished up with and cashed out their customers.

  “Ladies, I think Gretchen has something to say,” Percy called their attention to me and my tapping foot.

  They all turned to me, expectant expressions had by all.

  “Doug and I are getting married.”

  The reactions were instantaneous. Amanda shrieked and threw her arms around me, bouncing excitedly. Percy kissed my cheek and congratulated me over the shrieking. Meredith smiled and kept her distance.

  Upon hearing the commotion, Toni and Fern both made appearances in the doorway.

  “What’s going on?” asked Toni as Fern asked, “Can you keep it down?”

  “Gretchen’s engaged!” Amanda shrieked, still hugging and bouncing around me.

  There were more offers of congratulations (loudly from Toni, shrieking from Fern). More hugs and looks of terror as clients eyed us from the waiting area.

  “Well that’s it, that’s all the news.” I tried to pull away to leave.

  “Hey wait, you haven’t shown us the ring.” Amanda grabbed my hand.

  “Uh.” I couldn’t pull away without hurting her.

  “Where is it?” She noted my empty finger, as did the others.

  “I lost it,” I squeaked up in a very unGretchen-like manner.

  “You WHAT?” said Toni.

  “I lost it,” I repeated, thinking my answer explained it all.

  “How?” asked Fern, her hands clenching her hips.

  “Well, I was out in the woods, and it was on my finger,” I glanced over at Amanda, the only stylist not to know my true identity. “And then it wasn’t.”

  What was I going to say? Doug and I got into a massive dominance fight? I didn’t think that would be an appropriate statement, what with naive humans out and about.

  “Oh wow, are you in trouble.” Meredith shook her head at me.

  “Doug already knows, he was there when I lost it.” I rubbed the empty finger, missing the ring I’d barely worn.

  “How did he even buy you a ring? Doug doesn’t even have a job, does he?” Toni asked the seemingly obvious question.

  “He sold his RV,” I said.

  Toni’s hand flew to her heart. “Aw, he sold his RV for you?”

  “Yes,” I answered miserably.

  “What are you going to do?” Fern asked.

  “You should get a metal detector.” Percy, ever practical, gave her first decent suggestion of the day.

  “That’s a great idea. I’ll go look into that, you guys get back to work. I think you’ve got some people waiting.” I backed away, escaping their clutches. I would have run, but there was an audience.

  The clients were waiting, and by most of their expressions, highly entertained.

  Percy was right, I should get a metal detector. I dashed up the double grand staircase to my room.

  I unplugged my cell from the wall and shoved it into my back pocket, then grabbed my wallet and shoved it into my other.

  I put my ear to the door between my room and Doug’s rooms, listening to the slow gentle breathing of a sleeping man, then made my escape.

  Now I just had to discover where one would find a metal detector. Could you rent one? I’d much prefer to rent one than buy one. Who knew if I’d ever need it again.

  If I had a fancy schmancy internet phone, I would have looked it up while I was driving.

  Instead, I called Scott.

  “Hey, babe!” His energetic greeting crackled a bit through my phone as I drove through a cellular fuzzy spot.

  “Hey, do you know of anywhere I could rent a metal detector?” I got immediately to the point.

  “Um, rent? I have one.”

  “You’re such a geek—can I borrow it?” I laughed into my phone.

  “Despite the fact that you’ve chosen to insult me, yes, you can.”

  “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be working?” It was definitely a work week.

  “I’m on my lunch break.”

  Dang, that meant I couldn’t pick it up right that second.

  “Crap, that’s too bad.”

  “You’re a very confusing woman. It’s bad that I answered my phone when you called?” he asked.

  “No, don’t be dumb. It’s just that I wanted to get it right now.”

  “Why? What did you lose?”

  “My engagement ring,” I admitted.

  There was an uncomfortable momen
t of silence, then, “You’re engaged?”

  “Yeah, that is how one usually acquires shiny rocks squished into soft metal.”

  More silence. “My spare key is sitting on top of the door frame, the metal detector should be in my hall closet. I’ve gotta go.” With that, Scott hung up on me.

  For some reason, I didn’t think he was as happy as the girls had been to hear about my upcoming nuptials.

  I reversed directions and headed out to Scott’s apartment and his ill-hidden key.

  I wasn’t too far from Scott’s place, so it only took a couple minutes to arrive at the apartment building disguised as an oversized, old colonial.

  The front door swung on silent hinges, the handle feeling loose in my grip, maybe even too loose to lock. Or maybe it was the fact that my grip may be a little more intense than a mere mortal.

  If I remembered correctly, his apartment was up the rickety stairs, which creaked at each step under my weight. I kept my paws clear of the old banister, made shiny by years of hands running over it, as hurried occupants clung to it for balance. My claws would only scratch the remainder of the finish off.

  Down the hall to the right, I checked the number on the door, then stretched up, running my fingers over the top of the door frame until I felt cool metal against my skin.

  The key, unlike the house and front door, was modern like any other key you might find on any given person’s key chain.

  The locking mechanism turned smoothly, and I returned the key to its, um, hiding place.

  Scott’s place was a lot messier than I’d last seen it. The piles scattered here and there had grown in size and number. And there was a faint odor of dried out Chinese takeout. Beef lo mein, if my nose could be trusted. Of course, I hadn’t been there since Penny had influence over Scott’s cleaning habits.

  There were pizza boxes on the kitchen counter, right next to his front door. His small table was covered in junk mail and beer cans.

  I didn’t even want to know what was living in his clothes hamper, located right outside his bathroom, but there was a stench wafting from that direction, carried by the breeze from an open window.

  I wasted no time heading for the hall closet and was almost clobbered by his lime green snowboard as I opened the door.

  Looking inside, I noted this was strictly stuff storage, not jacket and shoe storage.

  And I didn’t see the metal detector.

  Of course, there was so much stuff in that closet, you couldn’t go in there expecting to retrieve one thing and find it right off. Except for the snowboard, of course.

  I began pulling things out and throwing them into a pile behind me, gradually making my way to the back of the closet, which I had yet to even glimpse.

  When the metal detector finally made an appearance, I heaved a huge sigh of relief and pulled it out, cradling it to me. There were no directions with it, as it hadn’t seen its box in who knew how long, so I hoped it would turn out to be self-explanatory.

  I set it down on the kitchen floor, then surveyed the extra mess I’d made in my archaeological dig. I wanted to leave it right where it was, it wasn’t like Scott could possibly notice any more of a mess. But he was letting me borrow it, even if he didn’t approve of what I needed it for, so I pulled together my resolution and went about stacking stuff back into the closet in a slightly more orderly manner.

  It was not so easy: first off, that snowboard wouldn’t quit attacking me. It seemed no matter where I set it, or what I wedged it behind and between, it was determined to not stay put. There was so much stuff, I couldn’t figure out how it had even fit in there in the first place, especially in the jumbled mess that had first presented itself.

  An hour later, I was only about a third of the way through the mess, and I gave up. I heaved up armfuls of stuff, shoved it in, and held it in place with a foot or shoulder, while I shoved more on top of it until every bit of it was squished in there, including the possessed-attack-snowboard.

  Before it could all come tumbling back down on me, I slammed the door and sat against it for a few minutes, you know, for good measure. There was the sound of things tumbling within, so I stayed put, until my ears were met with silence.

  Cautiously, I stood and tiptoed away from the closet. Before it could make another move to come alive, I grabbed the metal detector, opened the apartment door, locked it, and dashed out, letting it latch with the propulsion. Whatever happened in there was no longer my responsibility.

  All of which earned me some odd looks from the teenage girl who was walking a Pomeranian into the apartment across the hall.

  “Hi,” I said, waving my free hand.

  The girl said nothing, just yanked the yapping fluff ball inside her apartment, and shut the door.

  Real friendly, that one.

  I stuck my tongue out at the closed door, slung the metal detector over my shoulder, and marched away from Scott’s chaotic abode. I took the stairs two at a time, managing to keep from taking out any walls as I made my way around the corners.

  The front door stuck a little when I turned the knob, but an extra shove with the side of my foot did the trick, and I was off again, not bothering to note whether or not the door clicked shut.

  I tossed the metal detector, perhaps not so gently, into the bed of my truck, and caught sight of the most magnificent beast across the street.

  There, resting insolently against its kickstand, was the most beautiful motorcycle I’ve ever seen. It was big, it was black, and it was badass. The words “Harley-Davidson” were blazed against the side of the gas tank amidst some spectacular deep purple flames.

  Now, the purple flames told me it was a special kind of man who owned this bike. How many guys choose purple flames for their custom jobs? It was definitely not a woman’s bike, but that didn’t matter to me, it was love at first sight.

  I don’t know much about bikes, other than I liked to ride them, and up until now liked my much simpler bike back home. But this beast made my heart flutter and my breath come hot and heavy.

  Put Doug next to that bike and I wouldn’t even see him—put Hades next to that bike and the gorgeous god of the dead didn’t exist.

  The bright orange For Sale sign that was shoved into the grass next to it had a phone number.

  I marched myself across the street, heedless of the semitruck headed in my direction. What was a few bumps and bruises if we collided, in comparison to a closer look at that bad boy?

  The semi’s horn blared, and I felt the surge of energy and air as it whooshed by, inches from my heels.

  Finally, I was close enough to the bike to touch it.

  I ran my fingertips gently over the seat and up onto the sun warmed tank, tracing the flame pattern with the pad of my finger, not wanting to damage the paint with an errant claw. It was buffed to a high shine, though very little of it was chrome. The purple flames graced the gas tank, around the headlight, and the front and rear tire wells. They weren’t bright, but deep, like wild violets, set against onyx black. I was willing to bet that the paint job wasn’t the one the bike had been purchased with. They weren’t your typical stylized Harley flames. No, they were something like a campfire, you could practically see them dancing in the sunshine despite the fact that they didn’t actually move.

  I pulled myself away from my drooling to pay attention to the phone number written in black Sharpie on the For Sale sign.

  I retrieved my phone from where I’d hidden it inside my bra, flipped it open, and punched in the numbers with the tip of my index claw.

  My head jerked to the side as the cover of “Bad Company” by Five Finger Death Punch wafted from the open window of the house I was situated in front of.

  Half a second later, a ring reverberated on the other end of my line.

  I could hear boots pounding on stairs, approaching the sound of the indoor cell phone.

  “Hello?” The voice was slightly delayed from the voice inside, just as the ring had been. Deep, masculine, rough, like the bik
e.

  “Hello, I’m calling to see if your bike’s still for sale?” I focused on the curtains drawn over the windows.

  “It is.”

  Talkative. “What can you tell me about it?” I asked.

  “Well, it’s a Night Rod Special VRSCDX. I bought it new and put some time and money into it, custom paint by Motor Designs in Bangor. My wife thinks that house payments are more important than bike payments, and since she’s pregnant, she apparently gets the final say. Anything else you want to know?”

  “Yeah, how much are you asking for it.”

  “Well, I’ve had it on Uncle Henry’s and craigslist for a few months now, and I’ve had a hard time selling it with the paint, so I lowered the price to 14 grand even, which is way less than I’ve put into it. It’s in perfect condition.”

  “Well it looks nice, I can’t see a scratch on it anywhere.” I ran my hand over the handlebars in a lover’s caress.

  “Are you standing outside right now?”

  “Yeah, I’m the chick drooling over your hunk of metal, standing outside your house.”

  “I’ll be right out.”

  I heard some fumbling as he hung up his cell and the pound of his boot-clad feet as he hurried to the door.

  I hung up my phone in turn and shoved it back into my tank top just as the front door opened, revealing a man to rival the bike.

  He was tall, broad, dark skin, shaved bald with a jackass chin strap of a beard, tattooed sleeves flowed out of his white T-shirt. Defined heavy arm muscles and solid torso. Dark jeans. He could make a girl’s heart pound if it wasn’t already doing so for his Harley.

  “Shane.” He held out a hand to me.

  “Gretchen.” I offered my hand in return.

  “So are you looking at the bike for you or a dude?” He looked me over in a critical way.

  I looked right back. “There is no way I’d let Doug even close to this bike. I’m looking for me.”

  He smiled, showing even white teeth. He seemed to like my response. “So what do you think?”

  “I was already pretty much sold before I even called you, but can I take it for a test ride?”