Silverbow (18 page)

CHAPTER 15

My phone was ringing. I rolled over, tangled in blue sheets and answered it. “Hello?”

“Are you alive,” Hines asked. I groaned into the phone and hung up. Slamming the phone back onto the nightstand, I pulled myself from the bed and headed for the bathroom. I stood before the mirror completely naked and arched a brow at the sight of myself. The hot shower I took when I got home last night washed away all of the blood and revealed that I was only bruised from head to toe. This morning the bruises had already changed from purple to a nasty yellowish brown.

My hair now looked platinum with all the white hair that Murphy scared out of me. I actually liked it. I lifted my hands high over my head and stretched. I felt like every joint I had was extremely loose and relaxed. I felt good for a woman whose world just exploded in her face. Leaning forward, I examined my new features and pressed my lips firmly together. The wicked eyes and higher cheek bones were quite arousing even if they were my own. I sighed when I stopped to think about who would notice my changes. I wondered if I was going to take greater notice to theirs as well.

It was Sunday and I would be taking Monday off too. I needed more time to…adjust. Hell, I thought about shutting the shop for a week. I wasn’t hurting for the cash and business had been kind of slow anyways. I tugged on some jeans, a tight white t-shirt and pulled on my brown boots. I left my hair down to fall in loose waves around my shoulders. By habit I went to my dresser to find my silver rose. When I picked it up I winced at the burning sensation in my hand. The necklace dropped to the floor and a dark red line smoldered in my palm. I growled quietly and kicked it under the dresser. So all that Hollywood crap about werewolves and silver was true? I wondered what else I would have to worry about.

I found my truck in the driveway even though the last time I drove it, I parked it at the Inn. Someone had been nice enough to return it. The moment I slid into it, I could tell it had been Murphy. The scent of leather and a woodsy musk still faintly lingered in the cab. He must have dumped my body and came back to tie up loose ends. I wondered if he was still at the inn and then deeply doubted that he was.

My attention shifted and I rolled down my truck window to glance at the shop. The third door was open and the Bel Air was gone. I tightened my jaw and exhaled. It would be fun explaining that one to Charlie. I had much more to explain as well. I backed out of my driveway and headed towards town.

It was almost one in the afternoon when I pulled into the parking lot of the inn. Mr. Yates was walking back to his room from the ice machine and waved as I approached. Sure enough, Murphy’s car was gone and the curtains were open, showing an empty room. Jumping out, I jogged over to meet up with Yates and joined him in his room.

To my surprise, the curtains were open letting the sunlight in and I didn’t smell a drop of alcohol or cigarette smoke. I arched a brow and looked him over. “How’s it going,” I asked.

“Better than ever, honestly. Haven’t had a drop since you brought me here. No woman to drive me mad and I got laid,” he said filling me in. The last part was a little too much information but I was happy for him. I didn’t bother to ask by who. It wasn’t my business. He sat on the end of his bed and took a long look at me. “You look so much like your mother. You have her eyes,” he said and smiled.

“Thank you,” I replied even though I did not want to be compared to her and then cleared my throat. “Have you thought more about the bikers,” I asked. I hated to bring up the worst of subjects while he was doing so well but I had my own business to tend to and at the moment I didn’t care whose cereal I pissed in.

“Two of them came to the bar last night,” he shocked me. I waited for him to give details. “They asked for directions to the Marshall place.” I swallowed hard and shook my head.

“Why are they looking for me,” I whispered. He shrugged and lay back on the bed with his hands under his head. He looked a bit too relaxed for a man who just found his wife torn to bits. Though, had I been in his shoes I think I would have been happy that she was gone too.

“I have no idea, sweetheart,” he said and I cringed.

“Call me that again and I will add you to my shit list along side those motherfuckers who ruined our families,” I threatened and he began to laugh. His laugh worried me. It was almost as if he had gone mad. Never before had I wished he had a bottle in his hand until now.

“Let God take care of these men, Dakota. Its not in our hands,” he preached and I sighed heavily.

“Who smacked you with the Bible?”

“A man has to open his eyes at some point,” he replied and sat up to look at me. His smile was tender, sincere and scared the shit out of me. I wrinkled my brow and nodded. I wasn’t going to argue with the man. If he wanted to find Jesus, he could go right ahead.

“Father Allan was fucking your wife too. Just make sure your faith is guided by someone with a fucking clue,” I informed him and turned to leave. He sat quiet and dumbfounded on the bed as I slammed the door and headed for my truck. So I was shit out of luck on having his help. I was back to square one.

I parked outside of the bar and sat staring at the doors for an hour. The parking lot was pretty packed. Only in Silverbow would a bar be packed on a Sunday afternoon. Worried about who was inside, I drummed my thumbs on the steering wheel to the radio and just watched. After a while Greyden came out and tapped on my window. I rolled it down and waited for him to speak.

“Are you just going to sit out here all day,” he asked as he wiped he hands on a white bar rag.

“Who came looking for me last night,” I asked without looking at him. My eyes remained fixed on the doors.

“Two men. A blonde and bald guy, said they had car trouble and needed to know where your shop was. I just gave them your phone number. But its not hard to find you out there. Do you think its them,” he asked.

“Tattoos?”

“Yeah, bald guy had one on his neck.”  He crossed his arms and kicked at something on the ground. “Dakota, whats going on?” I still hadn’t turned to look at him. I could hear the concern in his voice. He had always cared so much about me and even our break up wasn’t going to sever that. “You really have me worried.”

“Sorry to worry you. Please don’t give anyone else any information on me. If they come looking again, just call me. Tell them nothing,” I requested.

“Why do you think they are after you? You haven’t done anything to them. If these are the guys that killed your father I don’t understand why they would come back for you. I can picture Yates and his boys being on their list….but not you.” He let out a frustrated sigh and placed his hands on the door of my truck. “Is he protecting you,” he asked through a tight jaw. I knew he was speaking of Murphy.

“He’s gone,” I replied. I didn’t elaborate. I found myself wanting to ask Greyden the next big question but I kept my lips sealed.

“Then let me stay with you until this shit blows over. I can sleep in another room. I don’t want you alone.”

“You can’t always be my knight in shining armor, Greyden. I can take care of myself. Go back inside,” I said and when he didn’t budge, I turned to look at him with demanding eyes. His beautiful gaze shifted over my face and he exhaled deeply. I was sure he had noticed my changes. If anyone knew my face as well as I did, it was him. “Please,” I begged him and he nodded. Turning, he headed back inside of the bar and closed the door. 

Later that night I sat out in the shop with the doors wide open and all the lights on. My CD player blasted through the place while I cleaned and searched. I wasn’t even sure what I was searching for. I slid into the office and looked up on the highest shelf where my father’s ashes were stored in an alloy urn. I growled deeply and pulled it off the shelf. Ready to dump it all in the trash, I opened the urn and peered down inside. I sucked in a deep breath when specks of silver glittered among my father’s remains. I flashed back to the day his blood coated my flesh and recalled the silver. They had shot him with shells full of gunpowder and silver.

Tears began to run down my cheeks and I replaced the urn back on the shelf. I sunk into the office chair and scolded myself for falling to pieces. What was the use of asking, “Why didn’t he tell me?” I would never get an answer. No use in crying over spilled milk. It was all said and done for him. I couldn’t bring him back to yell at him and I didn’t think that would be a pretty sight. Finally, I sucked it in. Collecting myself, I pulled open a desk drawer and thumbed through a few hanging files in my blind search.

In the back was an empty folder. I pulled it out to trash it and found writing on the inside. “Viv: 775-555-8706” was scribbled in blue ink. I could tell it was my father’s handwriting and knew it was my mother’s name. It was a Reno area code and I wondered how old it actually was. I closed the folder and put it back in its place. I shut the drawer and locked the desk back up. I could have called it but what would I say if she really answered?

I tried to forget that I knew about it and turned the light off in the office before I locked the door and shut down the shop. As I turned to walk back to my house I noticed headlights in my driveway. I recognized the Jeep as Hines’s. The black jeep’s top had been patched and repaired more than one of my grandmother’s old quilts and I always enjoyed begging him to hire me to replace the damn thing.

“Dakota, get in. We’ve got trouble,” he yelled and without hesitating I darted across the yard and climbed in.

“What’s going on,” I asked him and he shook his head. “It’s Yates. Father Allan shot him.”

“Fuck. Its my fault, Hines. I went to see him today and he got all holy on me. I said something about Father Allan and his wife…”

“Dakota, you and your fucking mouth.” He knew all too well how I like to cut a man down with spiteful words.

“I know,” I uttered as we raced down the road towards the chapel, the chapel that I had not dared step foot in since my father’s death. I silenced my anxiety with my guilt and wished the Jeep would go faster. “Hey, is Yates a…Were?”

“No. The Yates family was one of the few that were clueless,” he replied with a tone that told me Mr. Yates was in bad shape and wasn’t going to heal the way we did. I bit into the inside of my cheek and scolded myself once more.

Ahead I could see the chapel and the lit parking lot. Outside I could see my friend, Ashley and her husband, Rick Dehaven. I found myself wondering about them too but forgot all about it when I saw Mr. Yates lying in the middle of the lot and Father Allan leaning on the end of a shotgun  the chapel steps.  As soon as the Jeep stopped I spilled from it and ran to Yates. He had been shot low in the abdomen and I knew it wasn’t good. Blood flowed in a massive puddle beneath him and stained the lot like my father’s once did. I felt the tears well up and I turned to look at Hines and Allan who were in a heated discussion.

“He came at me, threatened to kill me. What was I supposed to do,” Father Allan argued.

“He lost his wife less than a week ago. His wife that you had an affair with! He was not in his right mind, Father.” I yelled as the life drained out of Yates right in front of me. My temper began to flare and I could feel my heat begin to ripple. Wide eyes focused on me from all angles as I buried my face into Yates’s chest and began to growl without control. I closed my eyes tight and tried not to take a deep breath. The scent of his blood began to taunt the animal inside of me.

“Get her home, Dehaven,” Hines yelled at Rich and he quickly collected his pregnant wife and stuffed her in their shiny blue Buick. I lifted my head as I heard their car tear out of the lot and when I opened my eyes my second vision had taken over. My stomach churned and I managed to keep myself from burying more than my face into Yates’s dead body. I turned to look at Hines and Father Allan and could see their hot figures standing still on the stairs as they watched me begin to shift. I barked loudly at the two of them and then pulled myself to my feet. I took a hold of Yates’s hands and began to drag him towards his old silver truck. With ease I was able to pick him up and dump him in the bed of the truck.

“Dakota, where are you going,” Father Allan yelled and I felt my temper flare again. I turned on heel and bolted in the direction of the steps with blind fury and found myself flattened in the middle of the parking lot. My head spun and when I was able to see again my normal sight had returned. Father Allan was crouched over me with his hands on my shoulders and a knee in my stomach. His once brown eyes burned a deep red and his slim face had twisted into the heinous face of a monster. He howled above me and then sunk his teeth into my right shoulder. I yipped and he spit me out.