Savage Seduction: A Dire Wolves Mission (The Devil's Dires Book 3) (6 page)

Mammon huffed a laugh. “Gee, thanks.”

Moments later, they came to a stop in the parking lot where the ride had begun. Mammon stepped out of the car, suddenly a little uncomfortable about what was to come. Nervous even. An alien sensation to the normally gruff shifter.

“So…” He took a deep breath, hanging on to the top of the door a little too tightly. “Tomorrow?”

“Seven. Be prompt. Charmeine hates tardiness.” Finn nodded once before Mammon closed the door and backed away. The car immediately took off, speeding through the night in a shower of dust and taillights.

Leaving Mammon feeling even more out of sorts.

“What the fuck just happened?”

The night didn’t answer, though. Nothing did. So Mammon mounted his bike, giving himself a moment to sit and let his mind calm down. Dinner…with his mate and her BFF…both of whom he
should
despise. Totally not a big deal, right? Still, he grabbed his phone and sent a quick group text to Phego and Deus. He may have gone to Finn’s house on his own the first night, but not this time. He had the element of surprise working for him then. This time, that advantage went to the O’Rourkes.

Mammon wouldn’t be going in without backup.

T
he closets were too small
, the lighting too fluorescent, and the paint an atrocious green color that Charmeine was sure went out of vogue in the late eighties. Still, she’d never been as thrilled as she was when she’d signed the contract to lease their temporary rescue space.

“Do you think we can fit another set of bunk beds in that back room?” Charmeine closed the door to one of the bathrooms that she’d paid to have scrubbed and revitalized for the new tenants and continued down the hallway, checking each room. Looking behind every door.

Ethan ran a finger over the floor plan, his meticulous notes penciled in for every room they’d investigated so far. “I believe so, yes. Though we don’t have any more bunk beds. The order was for three sets.”

Charmeine sighed and looked around again, picturing the old medical office suite as more than…well, an office suite. It wasn’t too hard, especially considering it would be a temporary solution. Still, it wasn’t perfect. Not yet. But it would do for their immediate needs.

This former office complex would be a new start for a lot of shifters, a safe place until Charmeine could sign on a real house. A true home. One with open land for their wolves to run and explore. Her wolf paced inside her head, nearly wild with the need to shift, to race for some sort of wilderness, to hunt and roam as she craved. Charmeine had to muzzle her, though. There was no time, and stretching Finn’s security detail just so she could take a run was ridiculous. No. Her wolf would need to settle down for a few days longer. Maybe a week. Or two.

“Charmeine?”

She jerked back to attention, having lost herself to her inner beast for a moment. Ethan cocked his head, looking surprised by Charmeine’s startled reaction.

“Right. Bunk beds. I’ll call Finn,” Charmeine said, shaking off the distraction of her irritated wolf. “Maybe he can help us until Al sends the trust disbursement.”

Ethan practically choked on a harsh, sarcastic laugh. “Maybe? The man wears a Rolex.”

“Don’t be covetous, Ethan. Finn works hard and has to portray a certain image to be taken seriously. He’s never turned me down when I needed a loan for the rescue, but I try not to rely on him anymore. I don’t need to pile even more pressure on him because we weren’t vigilant enough in New York to get out in time to bring the valuables.”

Well, she brought the family valuables. Pictures and baubles she’d carefully unpacked from the linen bag she’d run with. Her mother’s wedding ring, her father’s cufflinks. But those treasures weren’t worth cash, and right then, it was cash she needed.

“Of course. My apologies,” Ethan said, though his tone was less than contrite and his eyes held more anger than not. “My apologies for assuming Finn’s obvious wealth could be shared.”

Charmeine could only sigh. Someday, Ethan would settle down and understand that riches weren’t the answer to all things. Her family had been quite wealthy, and look where it had gotten them. The Apex Hunters hadn’t cared about the money—they’d only cared about the blood.

Needing a distraction, Charmeine moved them along to the final room needing inspection. “How about we go up front and see if there’s anything we can do to help? People will be arriving soon.”

And indeed, they would. The few refugees who were sleeping on couches and floor pallets at Finn’s house had begun repacking their belongings so they could move to the flat, boring building in the middle of more flat, boring buildings. It wasn’t an ideal situation and not exactly the perfect place to put them all, but the options had been limited on such a tight time frame. Most places like this weren’t zoned for overnight habitation, and most homes weren’t big enough for the number of people Charmeine knew would be heading their way. This building—this huge, empty, sprawling complex—had once housed an ambulatory surgery center and a sleep clinic, so the entire unit was zoned to accommodate overnight stays. A lucky find for sure as they waited to find a true home.

Charmeine led Ethan to the first bathroom in the hall. Toilet, sink, small shower stall. Again, not ideal but workable.

“This one didn’t get cleaned. I’ll call the company first thing in the morning.” Ethan scrunched his nose and regarded the room with distaste. Not that Charmeine blamed him.

“There are children moving in here tonight. That won’t do.” Charmeine looked over the grayed sink, the cobwebs hanging from the light fixture, and the toilet with mold in the bowl. This was the first bathroom off the entrance and would likely be a busy one. She couldn’t leave the room as filthy as it was. “Hand me the gloves, please.”

Ethan looked positively aghast but handed Charmeine a pair of plastic hospital-type gloves from the box they’d found in a cabinet when they first walked through the space. He had wanted to throw them away, but Charmeine had known they’d come in handy and made him carry a pair at all times as they set up the space. She’d been right.

“Can’t we pay someone to do this?” Ethan stepped into the hall, leaving the door open.

“How can I ask the people who will be living here to clean up after themselves if I’m not willing to scrub, too?” Charmeine grabbed a scrub brush and some abrasive cleaner from the bag of supplies she’d been carrying with her and went to work.

Ethan could hate the menial labor all he wanted, but she relaxed as she cleaned. This was what she loved to do. Not scrubbing toilets necessarily, but taking care of people. The ones terrorized for no good reason by a band of militants trying to destroy something that didn’t need to be destroyed. She’d worked for years to get to a point where the surviving victims trusted her, followed her guidance, and let her help them restart their lives. The Hunters still chased them, and sometimes they came awfully close to destroying what Charmeine had built, but she’d managed to stay one step ahead of them through bribes, spies, and sheer will to survive.

But this was it—the last time she’d be setting up a temporary space. Finn had been working hard to cement a steady income, and she would find the perfect place for the refugee families to create a pack home. They would come together to find safety in the number of members and the tight pack they’d form. And with Finn’s network of muscle and his insiders all over the city, they’d know if any Hunters stepped foot in Fort Worth. They would live their lives in defiance of the Apex Hunters, and hopefully, Finn’s men could begin hunting
them
down. Turn the tables. Destroy the handful who’d obliterated so many lives.

Her back ached and her arms burned as she scrubbed the filthy shower stall, but it was a good pain. The kind that came from working hard. The people who needed this rescue had traveled for days, looping and circling and taking back roads to stay off of the Hunters’ grid. If those men, women, and children could put up with such lengthy drives, she could put up with a little soreness from cleaning.

So she scrubbed. And she damn near whistled while she worked.

C
harmeine lumbered
up the steps to Finn’s house, hanging on to the handrail for the first time since she moved in. She ached all over, but the happiness burning bright within her made the pain worth the reward. Tonight, eight refugee shifters would sleep at the rescue. They had beds, new linens, clean facilities, and the start of a new life. The alarm Finn had installed would give them all an extra sense of security, something they needed after years of dealing with the Hunters. Altogether, it had been a phenomenal day. Exhausting, though. Charmeine was ready for a shower, a hot meal, and her bed. But when she finally made it to the top step and pushed open the door, she knew the night would not go as she’d hoped.

Her mate stood in the hallway, his back to her, unaware of her presence.

Tall and solid, the man seemed to take up much more space than the average person did. Mammon carried himself in such a way, with so much innate strength, as to seem to own the space around him simply by existing in it. Her eyes, so tired after her busy day, moved almost of their own accord, tracing the lines of his body. Following every curve and dip. She couldn’t help herself; she simply had to look.

Muscled legs encased in dark slacks, a trim waist, ever widening frame leading up to broad shoulders. Arms like branches—thick and heavy. A cropped haircut, more military-like than most men wore. He exuded a level of danger that appealed to her in some way. Altogether, he reminded her of a soldier or a guard, a man out to protect something important, even in his dress pants and collared shirt. Someone on the defensive but ready to attack the unseen foe circling in the shadows. Appealing, but still a threat.

Especially to her.

Charmeine shoved the door closed, making sure it slammed into its frame. Might as well announce her presence. Mammon spun to face her, eyes going wide, literally looking her up and down. Inspecting her as she’d done to him only moments before. Perhaps he found her just as physically appealing, a thought that intrigued her. But the bold move on his part quickly forced her to go from interested to embarrassed. She had to be filthy from her day at the rescue.

She lifted a shaky hand and patted her hair, trying and probably failing to force the stray ones back into place. Tugged her shirt a little lower, hoping the bleach spots she knew were on the hem weren’t too obvious. She fidgeted through many long, quiet seconds as Mammon simply stared…but then she stopped. Froze. Let her anger and resentment overthrow her need to please.

This man had no power over her.

No opinion from him mattered, no judgment ranked. She’d been doing what she loved all day, had helped numerous families, and would continue to help more in the coming weeks. Her being a filthy, smelly mess after a day of honest work should have been celebrated, not hidden.

“Do I need to call security?” Charmeine asked, tipping her chin and refusing to give him even the hint of a smile.

Mammon’s eyebrow rose—just one—and his lips quirked up in a crooked sort of smile. One that sent a shiver down Charmeine’s spine. But before he could answer—and certainly before Charmeine could throw herself at the big lug—Finn strolled out of the study. With two highball glasses in his hands and a rakish smile on his face, he looked his usual tidy, charming self. Charmeine could have smacked him.

“Ah, there you are. I was about to delay dinner to track you down if—” Finn paused, his brow furrowing as he looked her over. She stood a little taller, refusing to give in to the desire to huddle in a corner or run to her room. Why today? Why would he bring this stranger into his home, and why would he do it on the day she’d spent scrubbing toilets? Did the fates hate her that much?

She darted another glance at Mammon, her fated mate, who was still looking at her with that damnable, sexy smile. Yes—the fates definitely hated her
that
much.

“What the hell have you been up to?” Finn asked, finally moving again, if only to hand a drink to Mammon.

Charmeine didn’t like being backed into a figurative corner. She looked over the two with a snooty sort of arrogance she’d learned to emulate from her nastier aunts and uncles. The benefits to being raised around wealth weren’t all financial in nature.

“It’s move-in time at the rescue. I spent my day cleaning and moving furniture so we were ready for the first residents.” She glared, wishing she could growl at Finn, too. But she couldn’t…wouldn’t. That would be too far over the line in front of company. Still, she blew a stray hair out of her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as she sent Finn a death stare. He needed to know she wasn’t happy with him.

But if Finn picked up on her irritation, he didn’t let on. In fact, his smile only grew. “Ah, I see. Well then. How about I take our new friend into the study for a drink while you get cleaned up. Dinner’s in twenty minutes.”

The dismissal rankled, and Charmeine bristled in response. “I’m not hungry.”

Finn growled softly, throwing her the type of warning she knew better than to ignore. “You will not be rude to my guest, Charmeine. Clean up and join us for dinner.”

A louder growl broke the stare-down between Finn and Charmeine. She shot a look to Mammon, the source of the threatening rumble. He was definitely glaring and almost snarling, but not at her. No, his menace was directed solely at Finn. Perhaps the man felt the need to come to her rescue, not that she needed him to. Finn would never hurt her. His demands were just him being bossy as usual. Still, having backup was sort of nice.

She looked back to Finn and raised her eyebrows. Waiting.

“Please,” Finn said, gritting out the word with a stiff, plastic smile. “Get cleaned up and join us for dinner, please.”

With a stiff curtsy and a glare, the likes of which most men would have cowered under, Charmeine flounced toward her room. Finn wanted to have dinner with the enemy? Fine. So be it. She’d join them as requested. But she’d come prepared.