Lost Library: An Urban Fantasy Romance (13 page)

Kenna’s raised eyebrows and down-turned lips made it clear that John hadn’t alleviated her concerns. “I can’t even think of an appropriate response to that.
You’ve both entered the Twilight Zone and yanked me in with you.”

Clark was an old-school Lycan, from what little John knew of him. Still fit and reputed to be mean in a fight, Clark had the appearance of a man in his early fifties. He was well into his sixties if John’s information was correct. Not in any danger of losing his position, but neither was he ambitious beyond the borders of his territory. His more traditional leanings meant he likely placed little trust in humans and had even less patience for them. Thus, it came as a surprise when Clark inquired about Max and Kenna over lunch. The men were seated in a quiet restaurant typically only open for dinner. They had acknowledged a few mutual acquaintances, discussed tourism in Boise and surrounding areas, and then paused after the requirement for polite chatter had been fulfilled. 

“How are your travel companions enjoying Boise?”

John replied cautiously. “It’s a lovely city. They were thrilled to miss the bulk of the winter snow and ice on this trip.”

Clark put his fork down slowly. “Of course, in Texas you’re used to much warmer weather.” A pause, then, “Why travel to Boise now? We didn’t expect you. And with two human companions
....”

The subtext was clear to John.
Clark had not known of Lizzie’s connection to the Texas Pack and was surprised the leader of Texas would come, rather than send some type of official communication. And Clark found it odder still that John had come without his enforcers, accompanied by two humans.

John picked up his
glass and took a small sip of water. Very deliberately, he set the glass down and said, “I’m traveling here for personal reasons, not as the Texas Pack leader. The two traveling with me are friends.”
Hurt them, hurt me
was the implication.

Clark made a small, dismissive sound that resembled a snort.
“It’s naïve to think you can separate the position from the man. Your presence here and in this manner is highly unusual—you must know that. It brings into question your intentions toward the Idaho Pack.”

“My intentions are quite simple. I have a close relationship with Lizzie Smith, and she was removed from my territory without her consent or my approval.” John had very little interest in gaining the Idaho territory, the certain result of a successful challenge. And he was by no means ensured a victory. Avoiding a challenge was
highly
desirable. John just wasn’t entirely sure how he would do that yet.

“And why would your approval be necessary?” queried Clark.

This was the tricky part—how to remain completely honest. “I’ve already mentioned, Lizzie and I have a special relationship. But I prefer not to discuss my lovers with outsiders.” John accompanied the latter statement with a hard stare.

Clark was unaffected. He just nodded and said, “That explains why I’ve never heard rumors.
Unlike Arkansas. Their Alpha has the reputation of a tomcat and no sense of responsibility to his pack. He disrespects Lycan society with his indiscreet and amoral behavior, and even more so, his pack.”

And they say men don’t gossip, thought John. Clark’s interest in lambasting Arkansas’ pack leader was at least diverting him from the exact nature of Lizzie’s relationship to John. And the Arkansas saga was a juicy bit of gossip. Jared Warren, the pack leader, was a
horny bastard who didn’t stop for even a second to consider how his actions impacted his pack. There was some question as to the cause of his second wife’s death, a human woman. The human authorities had questioned Warren extensively, but no arrest was made. And then his third wife had died tragically. Suspicious circumstances? Possibly.

Texas remained friendly with
the Arkansas Pack for a number of reasons, primary among them, their proximity to Texas and the size of their territory. Warren’s personal and legal concerns had thus far been a non-issue, since they didn’t directly impact Texas.

John’s
thoughts strayed briefly to Ben and James. According to the updates he’d been receiving from Chris, they were involved in their own troubles in Jonesboro and delayed indefinitely.

Apparently his contemplative silence had been interpreted as censure. Clark
said, “No one could have known the Smith girl was your woman. We received intelligence that an unaffiliated Record Keeper was located in Austin. She had no known ties to the Texas Pack, so we appropriated her.”

Clark relayed this information calmly and without appearing defensive. He clearly believed his pack had done nothing wrong. And under
Lycan law he was correct. Impolite, yes, but not in violation of any agreements with the Texas Pack. He added, “She hasn’t been harmed and, in fact, has been kept very comfortable. We planned to approach her with an option to join Idaho’s pack within the next few days.”

“Given this new information, you will release her,
of course. I would be personally grateful.” John cringed inwardly as he said the words. Clark could interpret this to mean the Texas Pack owed Idaho a favor.

“
Of course. We always planned to release Lizzie Smith. A Record Keeper held by force is of no value to us. If she hasn’t found she prefers the company of the Idaho Pack, then we can further discuss her release. Naturally, we would first like to offer her a home with us. And we’ll need time to let her decide if Idaho is her preference.”

John didn’t know what they planned to do to persuade Lizzie. Clark could be simply saving face
. A show of power, indicating he wasn’t caving to Texas Pack pressure, but rather choosing to release her on his own schedule. Or he could have some unsavory plan to strong arm Lizzie’s sworn fealty to Idaho. He had no way of knowing, and he wasn’t going to wait to find out.

Max had completed his degree in electrical engineering before joining the military. Taking things apart, fiddling with their insides (usually improving them,) and putting them back together again—what could be more fun for a computer geek? His father’s sudden and completely unexpected death during his senior year of college had left him lost and reeling with grief. The structure of the military had appealed, and, before he could blink, he had found a career path. At least a temporary one.

His
computer-immersed teen years, followed by college, then the military, left him with some unusual skills. The quartermaster from the Bond films, aka “Q,” was Max’s hero. Gadgets, especially the discreet tracking or listening variety, were a special favorite of his.

Add Max’s special hobby together with
the Lycan preference for senses over technology, and there was a good chance a tracking device on a car would go undiscovered. Slipping the device on Clark’s vehicle was a piece of cake, except for the timing. The implied truce between the Lycan ended upon conclusion of lunch. As a matter of Texas Pack honor, Max was prevented from bugging the car until the conclusion of the truce. So he had to wait until lunch was over, and then he could attach the device to Clark’s truck.

Clark had no driver, and his two enforcers had entered the restaurant with him, leaving the truck unattended. He had a narrow window between the end of lunch and the return of Clark’s enforcers, and the truck was in relatively open ground. But heck, it wouldn’t be fun if there wasn’t
some
pressure. 

Kenna
felt her cheeks flush and heart speed up as she watched Max. She was sure she would be breaking out in a completely unattractive nervous sweat if it wasn’t so cold outside.
Thank you, Boise, for your cooperation.
It wouldn’t be quite so nerve-wracking, but for the fact that Max looked like a ten-year-old who’d been handed a box of fireworks and told to go have fun. Did he have no idea how serious this was? What would happen if he were caught? Some underground Lycan prison? Torture? Her imagination was getting the best of her—she knew it. But really, couldn’t he take this a little more seriously?

Max had a cheery grin on his face when he returned. “This is better than flying
,” he began, then he took a closer look at Kenna’s face. “Hey, it’s fine. This is pretty low risk. Really.” She just glared at him. “You underestimate me—but thanks for caring.” He ended this statement with a little eyebrow waggle.

She
couldn’t help but laugh at such an obvious ploy. “I’m glad you’re having fun. Next time, I’m not watching. You can get another lookout.”

Max was limited in his gadgetry by available local sources and a short turnaround time. As a result, Max and Kenna had to travel to keep Clark within the relatively short radius of the tracking device. John had grabbed a cab to lunch, so they’d have the rental car available to trail Clark. Kenna drove and Max gave directions based upon the pings from the tracker. Within two hours, they had returned to town and were seated at a quiet table in the back of a coffee shop awaiting John’s arrival. His hotel was directly across the street. He’d needed some time at the hotel to catch up on urgent pack business but was expected any minute.

Kenna
was drinking a cup of hot tea. Not her usual drink, but it was Lizzie’s favorite, and Lizzie was on her mind. She watched as Max wrapped his hand around his coffee mug. His hands were large and strong, the knuckles marked here and there with faint scars.

Kenna broke the silence.
“I was surprised you didn’t mind me driving.”

Max looked up, at first distracted
, then mildly surprised as her comment finally registered. “Why would I mind? I was busy reading the tracking device.”

“
It’s a guy thing. At least in my experience, guys want to drive. And if they don’t, they like to make a big fuss over it.”

Max stretched his
long legs out under the table, getting more comfortable. “Hmm. Do you do that a lot?” At Kenna’s questioning look, he continued. “Make sweeping generalizations. I’m a man, so I’m controlling and think I drive better than any woman.”

“If repeated experience shows something to be true, I believe it. Most of the men I know
do
think they drive better than women.”

“Do me a favor. Over the next few days, before you make an assumption about me, stop and ask
, instead. I may surprise you. I might not be like the other guys you know.”

Kenna
wasn’t sure how to take that—be offended Max thought her judgment was poor? Or be flattered he wanted her to get know him better? Before she could decide, John walked in the coffee shop and her attention was diverted.

“What did you discover?” This question was directed to Max as John sat down at the table.

He replied, “I have
a
location—I’m just not sure it’s
Lizzie’s
location. I cross-referenced the location with a list of real estate in Clark’s name, and it’s not one of his personal properties.”

At
Kenna’s startled, “When?”

Max
replied, “I told you I was too busy to drive.” Then he grinned.

Turning to John,
he continued, “It’s a relatively isolated farmhouse with sufficient acreage and cover between it and the surrounding properties to make a casual observer to activities unlikely. Also, Clark traveled to his Boise home and stopped briefly before continuing on to the farmhouse.” He paused, then added, “For all we know, it’s a love nest where Clark meets his mistress.”

John frowned. “Anything is possible, but it’s
currently our only lead. We’ll check it out after dark.”

The Goons didn’t need locks to keep her contained. After leaving her room, Lizzie had gone so far as the landing located at the midpoint of the stairs. There she’d stopped, simultaneously fascinated and fearful. There was a window overlooking a large portion of the yard and one side of the house. Lizzie could clearly see two wolves—huge, thickly-pelted beasts, larger than any dog Lizzie had ever seen—circling the farmhouse property.

When she’d seen John’s
wolf, she hadn’t immediately recognized the animal before her as a wolf. Odder yet, a werewolf. When she looked at the wolves below, there was no question in her mind. Wolf. And they were both massive. From this distance she couldn’t be certain, but she suspected that the wolves were the same size as a large man. It made an odd kind of sense. If a 200-pound man turned into an eighty pound wolf …where would the other one hundred and twenty pounds or more go?

The systematic movements
of the pair were more analogous with patrolling soldiers than with any canine behavior Lizzie had seen before. She had been thinking about walking downstairs and trying the door. Why not, right? The bedroom door had been unlocked…maybe they forgot about her. But the two wolves downstairs made it clear such a plan was futile.

The
large windows provided her with an opportunity to study the wolves at her leisure. They were terrifyingly gorgeous. But there was an oddness to the scene that took Lizzie several minutes to pinpoint. Unlike a wild creature, spied for a moment in nature, these wolves were a part of the human landscape and performing human tasks. Lizzie found it unnerving.