Werewolves in Love 3: Ready to Run (9 page)

The only people he’d ever been responsible for were other Marines.

She spun around suddenly, leaning back with her hands behind her on the railing. The wind was whipping her long red hair away from her face, molding the yellow T-shirt she’d bought at Walmart to her curves. He felt a little dizzy, and clammy, and his chest got tight, his breathing labored, the way it did right before he was about to go into hostile territory, and he had to let the fear wash over him before he expelled it.

What if he liked having her around so much he didn’t want her to go?

She blinded him with an exuberant smile. “I love it!” she crowed.

And then she burst into tears.

Oh shit.

“She’s in shock, moron,” said Tyler Jean Turner.

His Alpha’s personal assistant was the first female he’d thought of when Sara broke down. Once he’d gotten her settled on the couch with a glass of water and a box of tissues, he’d holed up in his bedroom and frantically dialed TJ. A crowd of people were shouting in the background. He thought he heard Milo Hamilton, the Voice of the Houston Astros, over a loudspeaker.

“TJ, are you at an Astro’s game?”

“Yeah. Hang on. I need to go someplace where I can hear. Excuse me,” she said to someone. “I need to take this. It’s work.”

“I’m sorry, TJ. I don’t want to interrupt your afternoon, it’s just that I—”

“Please,
please
interrupt me.” There was considerably less background noise now. “I’m on a really bad blind date. Now. Listen to me. Your girl’s been through hell.”

“She’s not—”

“Shut up. For the time being, she is. From what Nick said she’s pretty tough, but she’s almost three hundred miles from home, in a strange city with the only werewolf she’s ever met, her uncle tried to sell her into sex slavery, and she’s wearing clothes from Walmart. You got any Xanax?”

“No.”

“Wine?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Give her wine. Lots of it.” She paused. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’m gonna pick her up tomorrow around ten. We’ll have brunch, then go shopping. Having real clothes and her own makeup and stuff will make her feel better.”

“That sounds good. She’s got some money.”

“She may not need it.” Before he could ask what that meant, she continued, “So how well do you know this girl?”

He sighed. “Not that well. We’ve been out a few times. She’s nothing like you’d expect a fae girl to be.”

“Why do y’all expect every girl with more than a drop of fae blood to be a psychopath?”

“We don’t. Well, maybe we do. Anyway, Sara’s not like that at all. She doesn’t deserve all the shit she’s been through. She’s an angel.”
Oh shit.
He did not fucking say that…

“An
angel?
” TJ yelled, loudly enough for every human in Minute Maid Park to hear her. “Did you just say she’s an
angel
?”

He closed his eyes and softly banged the phone against his forehead.

“Hello? Bryan? You still there?”

“Yes, TJ,” he said with a weary sigh. “I’m still here. There’s nothing I can do to make you forget what I said, is there?”

“Oh hell no.
Hell
no. Holy shit. An
angel.
But she’s not your girl, right?”

He decided to ignore that. “Okay. That takes care of tomorrow. What am I supposed to do tonight?”

“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting like this is the first girl you’ve ever been alone with! Don’t be such a pussy. Go get some takeout, watch some movies. I can’t believe—”

“All right! Jesus, would you shut the fuck up? Go back to your sad little blind date.”

“Hey, you know, you could swing by here and pick me up. I could tell Adrian that Nick had an emergency. No, wait. That would be mean. He paid for field tickets.” Bryan snickered at the plaintive whine in her voice. “Shit. All right, I’ll pick the angel up at your place tomorrow.”

“Thank you, TJ. You’re the best.”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

She had a slight hangover. Bryan had brought home Tex Mex and they’d split a couple bottles of wine and watched TV. It had been both weird and relaxing. Relaxing because of the wine and the food and the comfy bachelor couches, and weird because Bryan didn’t really touch her all night. They sat on the same couch, but they hadn’t cuddled or so much as held hands. She’d caught him staring at her. Several times she was certain he was about to reach for her, but he never did.

Did he feel trapped? He’d rescued her, and now he was stuck with her for a while. Lots of guys had a hard time sharing their space with a girlfriend; Bryan had a virtual stranger to look after. The sooner she could find an apartment, the better. She needed to prove her independence, make him see he didn’t have to be responsible for her. Maybe then they could start dating again. She wanted another chance with him.

He’d assumed, correctly, that she knew how to handle a gun, so he gave her his little Colt Mustang and a clip of silver bullets, instructing her to keep it in her purse for a while. He didn’t think it likely that Kuba’s gang would come after her, but they’d managed to turn more than one cop so far. Investigative leaks were a constant threat.

“You’ll like TJ,” Bryan was saying over coffee this morning. “She’s a redhead, like you, but shorter and louder and bitchier.”

“Okay.” She gave him a big smile, hoping she seemed relaxed and upbeat as she sipped her coffee. Inside, she was an anxious mess. She longed to call Wendy, but Bryan said she couldn’t do it, and she knew he was right. If Wayne were still around, she couldn’t endanger anyone by telling them where she was.

She was wearing the T-shirt and jeans she’d bought in Lufkin. He was wearing shorts and tennis shoes and nothing else. It was a good look for him.

“So you’re going running?”

“Yeah. I haven’t had a real run since I went to Luxor and it’s killing me.”

“Why couldn’t you jog in Luxor?”

Her heart skipped a beat when he flashed that sly, smartass grin at her, the one that gave her butterflies in her stomach and regions lower. Damn, he was beautiful. With the hair, and the eyes, and the dimples and the grin and the body, she knew he must have women swarming all over him in Houston. She swallowed hard, dismayed at the sudden stab of pain somewhere near her heart.

“I’m not jogging—I’m running. On four feet. I didn’t get to do much of it in Luxor.”

“Oh!” She blushed, feeling incredibly stupid, but he just stood there rubbing a strand of her hair between his fingers and smiling at her. “Um…what did you do in Luxor? About, uh—”

“Shifting. Getting furry, going four-footed.”

“Okay, yeah. Don’t you have to do it regularly?”

He came to stand in front of her barstool, and she had to tilt her head back to look at him. Acutely conscious of his bare chest inches away, she kept her hands wrapped around her coffee mug so he wouldn’t see them shaking. God, he smelled good.

He skimmed his thumb across her cheek. Her heart skipped another five or six beats.

“No. Every wolf’s different. I’m an alpha, so I don’t have to shift as often as betas do. In Luxor I shifted about a dozen times, but only for a few hours.”

“Weren’t you worried about being seen?”

“Not really. Sneaking around places I didn’t belong was my job in the Corps. I’m pretty good at it.”

“Oh.”

Right as another one of those uncomfortable silences started forming, he said, “Okay, I’m gonna go. The guys are expecting me and it’s a long drive. Don’t be nervous about meeting TJ.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Yes you are. I can smell your fear.” His hand tightened on her neck, keeping her head tilted up to him as his thumb stroked her cheek. He sure didn’t seem in a hurry to go. “I can smell everything on you,” he added huskily.

Her heels were resting on the rung of the barstool. He pushed her knee away so he could stand between her legs, cupping her head in both hands now.

She flashed back to two nights ago, when she was ready to jump his bones right there on her couch.

Oh, dear Lord. Could he really smell everything on her? Because right now she was so turned on…

He leaned down and ran his tongue feather-light across her bottom lip. She couldn’t repress a shiver, and she knew by the way he smiled that he’d felt it. Ever so gently, he nipped at her bottom lip and licked it again. She parted her mouth wider and his tongue dipped in to meet hers.

She didn’t even know she was touching him until he growled softly, low in his throat, and then her hand registered the hard muscles of his back, the heat of his skin beneath her palms. The kiss deepened, his tongue warm and insistent in her mouth. “Damn.” He nibbled at her lips as he spoke, as if he couldn’t stop, and the thought made her giddy. “Every time I start kissing you, I just want to keep kissing you. And that’s exactly what I’m gonna do when I see you again.” He brushed a last, swift kiss across her forehead and grabbed his keys.

“Have fun with TJ. I’ll call you later.”

By the time she got her voice back, he was out the door.

The doorbell rang as while she was reading the
Chronicle
online. She walked down the two flights of stairs, her stomach in knots, and opened the door.

“Hi. I’m TJ. Ever seen one of these?” The short, buxom redhead held up a black credit card.

Sara blinked in surprise. Then she gasped.

TJ grinned. “This is Nick Wargman’s black Amex. Ever heard of a place called the Galleria?”

She nodded, dumbstruck.

“Good. Saleswomen will treat you like dirt because you’re in jeans and tennis shoes and a scratchy T-shirt and pretty as a fairy princess. I’ll wave this card like a magic wand and watch them start kissing your ass. This is gonna be fun. I’m warning you, though, some of them will assume you’re fucking Nick. Get your purse. Oh, do you drink?”

“Um, yes.”

“Thank God. I need a margarita.”

Chapter Six

The Pack had several acres on the other side of Katy, about an hour and a half from Houston. Nick Wargman’s late and unlamented father, the previous Alpha, had purchased it back in the sixties. It had a big house where the Pack held formal meetings and family gatherings throughout the year, and several smaller bunkhouses with beds and bathrooms.

After an exhausting, exhilarating four-hour run, Bryan felt better than he had in two months. He even felt a little less stressed about Sara. She wasn’t the clingy type—she didn’t seem to be measuring for drapes or anything. He still wanted to see her—and touch her, and taste her—and after the kiss this morning, he thought she felt the same way. Maybe they could reset the relationship to something more than casual but less than committed and see what happened from there.

Once he’d showered and changed, he called her. Her phone went straight to voicemail. He left a message, feeling slightly silly—there was no reason for him to keep tabs on her.

He called her again when he hit Houston, and then a third time as he was running around town. The fourth time he failed to reach her, he hit
end
before voicemail kicked in.

Where the hell was she? TJ Turner could easily shop for six hours, but Sara didn’t seem the type.

He got home to find that a shopping mall had thrown up in his living room. Judging by the names on the bags and boxes spilling off the sofa, he guessed it was the Galleria. Still no sign of Sara, though.

“Holy shit, angel,” he muttered. “Did you leave anything in the Tupperware?”

On cue, his cell rang.

“TJ?”

“No, it’s me!” Sara sounded very happy. So did a lot of people in the background.

“Are you at Cowgirls?”

“Yes! How’d you know?”

“Because I hang out there a lot. I guess TJ’s with you?”

“Yeah! We dropped off the loot at your place and then came here. This place is unbelievable! One of the managers said they’re hiring, and he thinks I’d fit in great!”

All the bartenders at Cowgirls and Werewolves were hot young werewolves, and all the waitresses were hot young females. They brought in the guys, both wolves and men, while the werewolves brought in the females. Bryan was oddly unenthusiastic about the idea of Sara getting hit on all the time.

“I’ve been trying to call you all day. Don’t you have your phone with you?”

“Yeah, but it’s out of juice. Piece of crap can’t hold a charge.” She was quiet for a minute. “So…you wanna join us?”

“Sure. I have to stop somewhere first. See you in a few.”

“He says he has to make one stop and then he’ll be up here.”

“Of course he will,” said TJ. “He’s not gonna leave you alone in a bar crawling with men and werewolves. What? What’s the matter?”

Sara shrugged, embarrassed to be so transparent. “I don’t think Bryan’s gonna be jealous of guys hanging around me.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s not like we’re really dating.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I mean—you know why he asked me out in the first place, don’t you?”

TJ nodded, completely serious now. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have real feelings for you. He brought you back here and you’re staying at his house.”

Sara waved a hand. “Yeah, but—that’s because he’s a good guy.”

TJ nodded. “Yeah, he is. He’s a very good guy.” She leaned forward to stare intently at Sara. “You know, those assholes almost got my best friend. They did get a friend of hers. What B did was important. I know it shocked you to find out who he really is, but if they end up busting this gang, he’ll deserve a lot of the credit. And he didn’t have to bring you home with him. He could’ve just turned you over to the cops up in Dallas.”

She had no answer for that. Feeling vaguely ashamed, but not sure why, she covered her discomfort by taking a big slurp of margarita and looking around Cowgirls.

It looked like a honky-tonk on steroids, with a huge wooden porch on the first floor and a covered wrap-around wooden deck on the second. She and TJ were on the second floor deck. Two sides of the first floor had rolling metal doors instead of walls. There were two bars downstairs, one up. A staircase in the middle of the first floor ran up to the middle of the second floor. Overhead TVs blared from every corner, and on the second floor were pool tables, pinball machines and a tiny dance floor. Sparkling Christmas lights were strung throughout the place, twinkling in the dusky glow of the early October sun.