4: Jack - In The Pack (15 page)

“Some.”

It’s crazy, in this day and age, to think of someone not being able to read or write, but it suddenly occurred to me...there are so many adult reading classes across the globe. Is this part of the Lobos plan? I mean, I could see lupus born creatures not feeling a need to read. Not until they shifted. And some of them never shift, I think. Back to the bad breeding.

Suddenly, her eyes lit up. She recognized her name, at least. “Is that for me?” She jumped up, planted a kiss on my cheek and exclaimed, “That is so sweet of you!”

I liked her enthusiasm, and I hated to damper the joy, but I said, “Fera...think.”

She had already picked up the box and was padding back toward the sofa with it. “About what?” She landed on the furniture, more than sat. Leaped up onto it like a wolf would and plopped down onto her belly, running her fingers over the shiny paper. “It’s sooo pretty.”

I picked up the duffle and took it back into the living area, sat down, and reached for the zipper. “Go ahead, open it.”

“How?”

“Just rip the paper.” I was a little preoccupied. The duffle was filled with basic feminine clothes items.

Fera picked the tape loose. She took her time, so I had plenty of time to go through the duffle. There were a pair of jeans, sneakers, some socks, what looked like hip hugger panties, and a bra. And a sweatshirt. I wrapped the bra around my hand, thought twice about it, and then tossed it behind the chair. She would never know what she was missing.

But her peripheral vision is good. Her head came up, and she asked, “What was that?”

“Nothing.” I gestured toward her gift. “Would you open that thing?”

She finally managed to get to the present itself. It was a long leather coat, Matrix style. She sniffed it, of course, and rubbed it on her cheek, said, “It smells vaguely familiar. Hm.”

“It’s a coat. Goes over the other things.”

“But it’s special,” she sighed. “It was a present.” She informed me, “It had my name on it.” It suddenly hit her. “But you...you didn’t know my name. We’ve been together the whole time. You couldn’t have...who are these from?” She panicked, got up, grabbed the bag I was going through and rummaged to the bottom of it.

“Who do you think they’re from? I couldn’t guess.” Well, I could. It had to be Hood. She probably smelled his scent on the things. Even if he’d only handled them briefly. But, a nagging voice inside of me asked, would she have said it was
vaguely familiar?

My libido had drained. I’d gone soft.

Maybe too soft. My brain was zipping back and forth. If not Hood, who? Surely she would have recognized the scent of any one of the losers. I sure as hell would.

Suddenly, the urge to get the hell out became too strong to ignore. “Get dressed. Do you know how?”

“I watched Kayty a few times. And others.”

“Watching and doing are two different things, Fera. You get started, I’ll be right back.” I went to the bedroom, got my clothes on, shoved some other basics in a bag, and came back out. She’d done pretty well. The shoes were too hard for her to do up. I bent down and did that for her.

Maybe it was too forward, but when I stood up, I reached out and tweaked Fera’s breast through her shirt. Just checking to see if she’d retrieved the bra. She hadn’t. She batted my hand off her. “We don’t have time for that now. Silly.”

Grabbing the coat, intending to help her into it, I had a terrible moment of realization. I knew the scent on that coat. Without thinking, I said, “Giselle.”

Fera turned to me, and there was no mistaking the look of fear in her eyes. She eked out, “Who?” When I didn’t answer, she asked, “What did you say, Jack?”

Chapter Eight

I didn’t stand around talking about it. Call it instinct or whatever, once again, I felt a definite urge to move.

“I
said
...we need to get the hell out of here.” I got that leather coat on her, bundled her right up, yanked on my own, and gathered the bags. Rushing her out the door, I said, “I have a bad feeling that we’re caught in the middle of something a whole lot bigger than us.”

We took a cab to the airport. We didn’t talk much. I was too busy trying to think. Should I use the travel arrangements Hood had set for us? Or find another way?

I didn’t have much choice. Money-wise, we were pretty screwed. My finances, what little I’d had, and all my personal effects had been liquidated, absorbed by Lobos, or sent to my family. That, or my slimy-ass lawyer had stolen them. I spared a minute or two on him. Had they killed him? Somehow, I didn’t think so. If nothing else, he was a good legal beagle.

Our
all expense paid honeymoon world tour
didn’t look so much like a gift now. We were going to be held to an itinerary that I hadn’t chosen--that I couldn’t even guess at because only the first two sets of tickets had been in the bag--until I could figure out how to come up with some cash, so we could jump track.

And it wasn’t helping my concentration to have Fera watching me with a wariness that was much more intense than anything I had ever felt before. I finally had to ask, “What’s bothering you?”

Her eyes did a little dart. Looking for an escape? But she squared her shoulders and said, “The fact that you know Giselle.” It was an accusation.

I have to say, I have constantly been amazed at her forthrightness. I think that is good. I mean, I always thought I was an honest, straight shooting guy, but after meeting up with these...people...well, I’m afraid to put too much out there. I guard every word, watch every gesture--mine and theirs. So, it took me a minute or two to come up with a response.

Finally, I just blurted, “I’ve met more garou than I ever wanted to in the last year.” I tried to play it off, but it didn’t go well. “Some are better than others. I didn’t get to pick who I was introduced to.”

Suggesting that Giselle hadn’t been good, but you and I both know she was...maybe a little too good. I sure as hell hadn’t forgotten her. She wasn’t under my skin or anything, but, damn, she’d been hot, willing and able. Men don’t find women like that every day. And they don’t usually get the Viagra/Spanish Fly combo shake to go with it.

But thinking about
that
kind’ve made a sick feeling explode somewhere inside of me. I looked away from Fera and asked myself, if I had it to do over again, would I have done it? Knowing that Fera would hate it in retrospect?

I mean, if I could have seen into the future, and seen that I’d fall for a...? What did I think of her as? A princess? A wolf?

Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back. An image of her, walking in human form, naked, from the kitchen, appeared in my head. No. Fera was a woman. The most perfect woman I’d ever seen, or been with. Yes, better than Giselle, believe it or not. And better than the orgy of bitches at Lobos.

Her body was firm, but soft. Everything she did was ‘cut to the chase.’ And I knew without a doubt that she needed me. All things I liked immensely.

I wanted to groan when a voice in my head taunted,
you need her more
. I didn’t want to explore that.

But the voice probed,
do you know why you need her
?

To stay alive. I answered it myself.

But the voice came back again with,
no...because she makes you alive
.

Sometimes I argue with myself. I didn’t want to believe what I already knew. So, I said,
No
. Being firm to myself, ya know?

And the ornery, pushy little bugger growled at me, Yes
...what else do you have to live for...now?

Yeah. I’m thinking that my garou-enhanced testosterone was talking back to me, telling me that I had a female to protect. Not that Fera didn’t have a few survival skills within her own capability, but it was the whole, I am man, you’re my woman thing coming out. She needed me. So, as much as I did my best to put aside the thought that I needed
that
, I knew it was still there.

In fact, I had a sudden desperate clawing feeling...like I’d strangle for air if it weren’t for her. That I couldn’t live without her. That I couldn’t let her out of my sight.

“Did you fuck her?” By her tone--she was growling, too--I could surmise that she’d already guessed the answer to that.

I wanted to ask if it made her jealous. I could see the very thought of it made her angry, but I didn’t know if it was because it was Giselle in particular, or what.

I knew I needed to learn their history. Find out what was between the two of them. But I dismissed that, really, on the spot, when I realized, suddenly, that I would have to kill any man that came near Fera. My possessiveness was that strong.

I didn’t like what that said about the changes I’d made. It made me internally explosive, warring through me--demanding that I re-examine myself and realize what she had done to me by being so good, so vulnerable, so open--was open up the monster in me. I didn’t like it.

In the end, I didn’t answer. I didn’t deny it, but my eyes gave the truth of all I was working through away. She knew that I, in some ways, held her responsible for all that was happening. If she had been different, I’d have left her with the losers that morning.

While I sat there, staring at her, I thought about that. And, yeah, a part of me wished I had done just that. Or left her at the apartment. I had thought so hard on doing it. I was still thinking, I
should
walk away.

Fera struggled with that, I think, or maybe she thought I
would
walk away, because she turned her head to the window and never said another word. Not even through customs. In fact, I had to tell the guards, “She doesn’t speak English.”

When they pressed, asking about Spanish, French and German, I said, “Look. No Englais. Capiche? Now leave her alone. She’s from a freaking European hole in the wall. Read her papers.”

Did I say they had been included in the bag? Even I had never heard of the place.

What’s that tell ya? Someone had been thinking way in advance. Her picture, in human form, was on those, too. I’m talking...unbelievably...fucking... well-organized. Wouldn’t you agree?

So, recapping what I was thinking again, I knew that Giselle and Hood were working together--outside of Lobos? I mean, Hood had promised to deliver Fera’s traveling papers before we needed to take off. So the bag and papers were definitely from him. The coat from Giselle. Had Giselle delivered both for Hood? Or what? Had there been a certain threat in that gift? Fera seemed to think so.

Okay. So, I’m sitting on the plane, Fera’s got her back to me, staring out the window, and I’m thinking...how the hell did they get Fera’s picture on that passport? Funny, how little details seem out of place, and give you clues to a bigger picture once they snag into your brain.

We had a plane switch over. Did I mention that? Traded out of O’Hare in Chicago, skipping through Stapleton, at Denver.

The pain in the ass security was at O’Hare. Honestly, I kept looking around, thinking...what? Lobos doesn’t extend to hell on earth? I’ve always thought O’Hare airport fit right up there in the ranks of places I never wanted to visit, but seemed most frequently at. Top ten miserable. Ya know? But there was no wolf-smooth-through, if you get my drift. The whole process infuriated me. And I thought, if the whole deal didn’t kill me, I’d suggest they work on infiltration there. Maybe the Lobos slick oil could fine-tune that little corner of the world.

Anyhow, I got the passport out, looked at it again. Held it up to Fera. “When was this taken?”

For a minute, I wondered, had I totally been put on? Had she been shifting for some time, and I’d just been snookered? How else could they get her human picture on her paperwork?

She shrugged, not getting it...at first. Suddenly, she frowned and turned to me, took the visa out of my hand and examined it. She smoothed a finger over her hair, which looked a little mussed when you peered close. “When I was standing at the window this morning? When I got a drink? In your sink?”

Her free hand clutched my wrist and she asked, “Who has been following us, watching us...that would not attack us?” Her voice was low, a quick and terrified whisper. “I have been wondering how you got that. I assumed it was Giselle.” Her eyes, so communicative, accused again. “Are you taking me to her?”

That would have been a good time to explain a few things about Hood, and my relationship with him, not to mention what I knew about Lobos and Giselle’s job there, and how I had met her. How I knew her brother and Giselle were intimate. But I was still trying to work it all out in my own mind. And you know...something wasn’t adding up. A lot of things, actually.

I ruled out the losers. They would have attacked, period, if they’d had the
huevos
to do it. See? I never discounted the fact that at any given time, these people could, or would, turn on me.

I didn’t believe any of them could handle a camera. So, I was back to Hood--who, remember, was supposed to be the only other person who knew where I lived,
and
leading the bitches on a merry chase
away
from us. They hadn’t shown up, so I could assume he’d done that much, at the very least. So, if not Hood. Who? Who did he trust enough with our plans? With his sister’s life? Leer? Kayty? Or Giselle? Or, maybe my shitty-ass lawyer? I was sure he was lurking somewhere out there. Couldn’t shake that feeling.

More and more, murder was becoming an acceptable thought. I know this because every time I thought of my old friend and solicitor, I thought...I’m gonna kill the bastard when I get my hands on him. So, you can see, I was putting blame on him. I knew, down deep, that he was the one who actually put the original finger on me for Lobos.

Mention of Giselle had put Fera into shock. Surely Hood knew the reaction she would have on his sister? Even now, the very thought that I might be taking her to Giselle had her shaking.

The fear in her eyes--it did something to me. Made me want to be her hero. I wrapped my hand around hers, peeling the passport from her, sticking that in my inside jacket pocket. I held her hand tightly, trying to reassure her. I even said, “I wouldn’t know where to find her. So, you don’t have to worry about that.”

Lobos, maybe. Now that I was gone from there. Where had she disappeared to--before? Obviously not Pack City.