Summit of the Wolf (3 page)

The chair creaked as the alpha sat forward in his seat. “I did. I gave them the names of the involved packs. They said they will contact all known packs and put a ban on pursuing Silver Wolf, but it won’t be enough. They want us to take her to Summit. Explain the situation and burn the rumor mill.”

Grey leaned forward and ran his hands through his damp hair. Sandy blond tendrils fell forward and hid his eyes.

“Look,” Dean said. “I know the plan was to steer clear of the gathering, but things have changed. It’ll take about eight seconds for others to catch on to the idea. Eventually, they will show up by the truckload, and we can’t fight them like that. They’ll pick us off. Brandon would only be the beginning.”

“We’ll help you keep them safe,” Brent said. His lips against his clenched hands had muffled his voice.

Dean’s eyes were a light and reflective gray. Much lighter than the thunderheads that hovered above the cemetery. Losing a member took a physical and emotional toll on an alpha. “We have to take control of this. The Old Ones want to hold an alpha meeting with every available leader in North America. We can field questions and clear up misunderstandings. You’ll be announced as Morgan’s mate so those other idiots don’t get the bright idea to challenge for an unclaimed female.” He sighed heavily. “It’s our best shot at keeping everyone alive.”

The shimmering yellow of Grey’s gaze fell on her. She brushed the side of his face with her fingertips, and he leaned into her touch.

“We’ll be okay, Wolf,” she promised.

He kissed the palm of her hand lightly. “We need big enough lodging for all of us to stay together.”

* * * *

“Are you all packed, or do we need to get more of your clothes from Rachel’s?” Morgan asked Marissa as they turned down their long, dirt driveway.

Summit was in the windy mountains of New Mexico that year. The weather would be much cooler than in Texas.

“Nah, I’ve got enough. It’s not like I’m trying to impress any of those wolves. I’m contemplating not showering until after Summit.”

Morgan snorted. “I don’t think that would deter them.”

The girl leaned forward and squinted out the front window. “Who’s that?”

Morgan hit the brakes and a dust cloud wafted over a shiny and expensive-looking Mercedes Benz. “Whoops.”

Marissa rested her hand on the door handle. “You want us to stay here?”

Morgan hesitated. She wasn’t excited about being split up. Not after learning her lesson from the Montana attack. Wolves hunted in packs. “No. Come on in with me.”

She grabbed Lana from her car seat, hoisted out a bag of groceries, and headed for the house. Her ears pricked for any unfamiliar sound. When she pushed the door open and stepped inside, Grey’s irritated but calm voice came softly from the kitchen.

“Can you watch Lana in here? I’m going to find out what is going on.”

Marissa nodded and gripped Lana’s little hand.

Morgan padded toward the kitchen, but paused on the other side of the separating wall.

“No, Dad,” Grey said with exaggerated patience. “And what are you really doing here? You know I have no interest in running your company.”

“Yes, but when I was flagged about you tapping your trust fund, I thought you finally changed your mind. It is still something I want from you. The company should stay in the Crawford name.”

The scratch of friction sounded as Grey ran his hand over the two-day stubble on his chin.

“Why don’t you take off those ridiculous sunglasses?” The man asked. “I can’t even see your face, and it’s been two years since the last time we saw each other. I hope you don’t treat all of your guests like this.”

“No, just you.” The chair creaked as Grey leaned back into it.

She could easily imagine Grey’s father rubbing his finger across the table, looking for dust. Arrogance and disgust were likely as evident on his face as they were in his voice.

His tone was harsh. “So you used part of your trust fund to buy this place?”

“Yes,” Grey answered. “And the property around it. I was ready to make a home.”

“So, do you have a job, or are your big future plans to leach off the trust fund as long as possible? The account, which I’m sure you have guessed, was not my idea but your mother’s. I knew it would lead to this—a lazy man. She disagreed. I wish she could have lived long enough so that I could have told her ‘I told you so.’”

Grey’s chair screeched across the floor. The smell of coffee filled the kitchen as Grey poured another cup. He had to have known she was here. Surely, if he wanted her in there with him, he would have called her in. The smell of coffee mixed with anger. Couldn’t his father sense the danger?

“I have a job. It’s something I enjoy, and it looks as if I will be able to make more money at it than at my last job.”

“Oh yeah? What is it you do?”

“Nothing you would care about or understand.” Grey sat back down at the table, and his slow breath sounded as he blew on hot coffee.

The air was charged, and the silence deafening. “I heard something that disturbed me greatly,” his father said.

“Ah, here we go. Okay, and what is that, Dad?”

“I heard you are living with a woman. I had my people look into her. Single parent whose house was a rat hole? She practically lived in a box before she moved into your house. I think you may have jumped in over your head, son. This reeks a little too much of what I went through with your mother.”

“Not that it matters because she is independent and runs her own business, but Morgan didn’t even know I had money until after we were engaged,” Grey growled out. His teeth snapped together audibly at the end.

That was her cue. Preferably, before Wolf tore his father to shreds all over her nice clean kitchen. She rushed in with a bag of groceries still clutched in her hand.

“Hey babe,” she said, giving Grant-the-Dill-Hole-Crawford her back. She planted a kiss on Grey’s mouth and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I’m late.”

She dropped the paper bag and turned to Grant with her hand outstretched. “Morgan Crawford. I’m Grey’s wife.”

Her hand lingered in the air as his face went blank with surprise. Eyes narrowed at her, he shook it as if it was a wet fish. He was a handsome man, tall and trim, but that was about where the similarities stopped between Grant and his son. Grey must have taken after his mother. Small blessings.

She smiled cheerily. “We would have invited you to the wedding, but Grey assured us you were a prick.”

Grey snorted and spat coffee onto the table. He cleared his throat to cover a bark of a laugh, but the smile lingered at the edge of his lips. Lana barreled into the kitchen, and Marissa leaned lazily against the wall with a smirk on her face.

“Dad, Dad! Hey Daddy!” Lana jumped up and down. “Look what Mommy got me,” she said, shaking a half-eaten bag of gummy worms at him.

He covered his surprise with a smile that burrowed into his eyes. “I love gummy worms. Can I have one?”

She nodded and plunked one into his mouth. “Good, baby bird,” she crooned and petted his hair. His unease all but disappeared. Lana had an uncanny ability to bring out a glimpse of the mushy, sweet center in Wolf.

Grant sat there in shocked silence. Morgan shrugged and rifled through the grocery bag, separating ingredients she would be using to make dinner. Lana had taken Grey’s sunglasses off and was trying to put them on herself.

Grant leaned over the table. “You know this precious little family scene doesn’t prove anything except that little spitfire really does have you under her spell.”

Grey stood slowly.

“Run, Grant,” she squeaked through a smile.

“That pathetic, weak little child you always claimed to have had? He never existed,” Grey bit out. He raised savage golden eyes to his father’s face. “Talk about my wife or family like that again, and you will regret it.”

Grant’s eyes widened until he looked comical.

“If I didn’t engage in your ridiculous arguments, it didn’t make me weak.” Grey growled. “It made me smart. Ignoring you was always more prudent than arguing with you.”

Grant backed up a step but lifted his chin primly. “Any backbone you got was because of the way I brought you up.”

Oh, hang first impressions. She couldn’t imagine them hosting family picnics together anyway. “I do believe he got his brains and strength from his mother. Credit where credit is due, please. Now, I have a dinner to prepare.” She smiled brightly. “I would ask you to stay over, but you called me a gold digger. I’ll walk you out. Please feel free to never show up unannounced again.”

Grey gave his father an altogether unfriendly smile. “You heard my wife. See you later, Dad.”

Morgan led Grant out to the front door, only pausing when he was outside.

Morgan crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe. “You know, you really should be proud of him.”

“For what?”

“For turning into such a great husband and father despite his upbringing. He is happy, Mr. Crawford. That’s what any parent should want for their child.”

“What is wrong with him? His eyes, and the way he was talking —”

“Whatever do you mean, Mr. Crawford?” She did her best impression of bewildered.

Grant got into his fancy car and pulled away. She caught his glance in the rearview mirror only once and waved cheekily to him. Her control over that pesky middle finger of hers was impressive.

Lana hugged her legs from behind, and she scooped her up and tickled her. Marissa came to stand right beside her and watched Mr. Crawford’s car disappear into the woods.

“Did you tell her to call him Daddy?” she asked Marissa amusedly as Lana settled in her arms.

“Yeah, hope you didn’t mind.”

“No, that was brilliant. I almost laughed out loud at Grant’s face. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing if she wanted to start calling Grey that, anyway.”

Marissa patted Morgan on the back. “Momma wolf is fierce.” She rubbed Morgan’s shoulders like a trainer.

Morgan threw a couple of punches in the air, boxer style, and laughed. “Ffft ffft. Nobody messes with my pack, ffft ffft.”

“I thought Grey was going to maim him.”

“Yeah, me too. Why do you think I went in there when I did? Come on. You can finish your homework while I make dinner.”

Lana bounded back into the kitchen and climbed into Grey’s lap.

Grey hugged Lana closely and stared a hundred miles away out the window.

“You all right?” Morgan asked.

Grey slid golden eyes in her direction and nodded. “I need to go for a run. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

She squeezed his hand as he passed, and he kissed her lightly on the forehead. His lips lingered there before he left.

Besides the cooking sounds and the scratch of the pencil and crayons as Lana and Marissa worked away at the table, there was no reason for the hairs on the back of Morgan’s neck to stand on end. She stopped cutting squash for the second time and listened for the sound of a car engine. Silence outside except for the wood sounds.

Marissa jerked her head toward the front door and frowned. It was enough. She wasn’t crazy.

“Do you hear something?” she asked.

Marissa shook her head slowly. “Not exactly. I don’t hear anything but my wolf is uneasy.” Her eyes had lightened to a soft gray.

Morgan stuffed the knife into the back of her jeans and looked out the front window beside the door. Marissa held Lana and looked out the window on the other side.

There, on the edge of the field was a movement. Her instincts screamed to run but she held her ground. A boy strode out of the woods with a grace so smooth he couldn’t be human. He disappeared into a mist of deep, purple smoke and reappeared much closer. Not a werewolf either.

“Marissa. Get to the safe room. Now!”

Morgan took Lana from Marissa’s arms and bolted up the stairs behind her. Her heart was in her ears. There was no way to get in touch with Grey. Their best chance at survival was running the woods somewhere as a huge black wolf. No help. It was up to her to keep them safe.

Marissa slapped the latch behind Lana’s dresser, and they scrambled into the hidden room.

“I’m scared,” Lana whispered.

“Baby,” Morgan cooed. “We’re okay. Just playing a game is all. The quietest wins, so be still. Be quiet and we’ll get you treats when the game is through.”

“Should I change?” Marissa said. Her panic tainted the air.

“Not enough time and too loud.”

“Daddy?” The girl asked with wide eyes.

Morgan shook her head and put her finger to her lips. Marissa retreated to the corner of the room behind a bookshelf and Lana scrambled in her lap. Morgan stood beside the door and pulled the knife from the back of her jeans. The blade nicked her skin, but the pain was a small reminder that she was still alive. The hum of the light bulb was deafening so she leaned forward and turned it off. A tiny clink of the cord preceded the silence. Lana whimpered, but the soft noise of Marissa stroking her hair quieted her down. The moments dragged on for hours. Maybe he wouldn’t find them. That had been the point of the safe room after all. To keep them hidden. Maybe he would knock on the door and decide no one was home. The bedroom door creaked as it opened. Fear seized her and she dared not even breathe. Okay, maybe he would leave the room once he saw no one was there. A long nail scratched down the length of the wall they hid behind. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed and prayed. The door creaked again as the stalker left, and she exhaled slowly against her burning lungs. The latch clicked. She swallowed a scream as the hidden door flew open.

She arced the knife through the air at his face, but the boy caught her wrist. With a tiny and effortless flick of his fingers, he crushed her arm until it felt like her bones were being ground into a fine powder beneath her skin.

His other hand flew to her neck and cut off all oxygen to her already straining lungs. He turned on the light and gave her a soulless smile.

“Aim for the heart, my dear,” he said with a faint British accent. “And with a wooden stake.” He studied her. “Lovely eyes. Purple?”