Last Wolf Standing (23 page)

He just had to find him.

Rubbing at the knots of tension in the back of his neck, he found the others waiting for him in the kitchen and filled them in on what Elliot had confessed downstairs. Afterward, he escaped to his office to check his e-mail again, but so far none of his sources had anything to report. He hadn’t thought Simmons would head back down to Covington, but he’d wanted to cover his bases just in case. And none of the Runners he’d e-mailed had anything for him, either. He had one call on his cell from Pallaton that he returned, and then, thinking he’d given Torrance enough time alone, he headed toward his bedroom.

Before he could open the door, Mason heard her talking and realized two things at once: she was on the phone with someone. And she was upset.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here, Mic. It’s so confusing. I want him so badly, but I’m afraid of getting too close to him. I mean, there’s no way he’s going to let himself feel something for me, so I know I should step back and save myself the heartache—but this mating thing between us just keeps pulling on me, making me want to throw myself at him.” She paused, probably listening to Michaela on the other end of the connection, then softly said, “I’m glad he was honest about it, too, but it still sucks. And I don’t think there’s any chance of him changing. It’s tearing me apart, not knowing if I’m making the right choice by trying to keep my distance or if I’m just screwing everything up.”

“Son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath, her words making him feel like a world-class jackass. Why couldn’t she just be satisfied with what he could give her. Why did she have to insist on an idiotic ideal that he knew he was never going to be able to offer her? It was like trying to hammer a square peg into a round hole. No matter how hard he tried, the fit just wasn’t there—and the knowledge was enough to make him want to turn and slam his fist into the wall.

Why did everything have to be so bloody complicated?

Three days ago his life had been simple. Hunt…and kill. In between, food and the occasional woman when his body needed the release. His friends and his family. Easy and straightforward, he’d known his way through every situation like clockwork. Known what to do…and how to do it to achieve the desired results. And now he couldn’t even handle one delicate, beautiful little human, who just so happened to possess a bit of backbone.

With his hands shoved deep in his pockets, Mason forced himself to walk away, moving silently down the hall. He’d heard enough. Anything else and he’d be throwing open the bedroom door and—Hell, he didn’t know what he would do. What else was there to say? No, he couldn’t deal with it right now. Until he got Simmons and she was safe, nothing could change. He didn’t even want it to, he reminded himself with a surly growl. He didn’t want to lose his heart to her. He just wanted to have her, all of her, and still be able to protect himself at the same time.

Mason stopped instantly in his tracks, nearly stumbling over his own feet as his mind snagged on that particular phrase.

All of her.

He played it over again, dissecting it, looking at it from every angle, until the truth finally slammed into him so hard he slumped to the side, just like a drunk whose legs wouldn’t hold him up. Propped against the wall, Mason stared sightlessly at the floor, his brain buzzing with the stunning, earth-shattering revelation.

He wanted her heart.

Oh, yeah, he thought, shaking his head. He was a contrary bastard, but there was no denying it. He wanted Torrance to love him. Wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire life—and it scared the holy living hell out of him. Needing something to calm the jittery feeling in his gut, he headed for the kitchen and found Jeremy standing at the sink, sipping from a cup of coffee as he stared out at the forest. “Want a cup?”

“No, thanks,” he rasped, wondering when his voice had started sounding like a gravel pit. “Keep going the way you are with that coffee and you’re going to end up a caffeine addict. That must be your tenth cup of the day.”

“I’m already a caffeine addict.” Jeremy laughed without looking away from the idyllic view. “Now I just feed the addiction.”

“Well, I need something stronger,” he muttered, opening the pantry to pull out a bottle of Jack. “Where did Brody and Cian go?”

“They headed home to get a few hours’ sleep. I don’t think they got much last night after dealing with the mess we left in the woods.”

“They better sleep while they can.” He poured two fingers into a glass and tossed back a sharp, satisfying swallow of the whiskey as he planted himself in one of the chairs. “I have a feeling things are gonna start happening fast.”

Turning away from the window, Jeremy sent a critical glance at the dark amber liquid in his glass. “She driving you to drink already?”

A hard, jagged sound jerked from his throat, and Mason lowered his head, watching the hypnotic swirl of the whiskey as he rolled his glass between his hands, elbows planted on his spread knees. “Driving me outta my ever-loving mind,” he muttered, before tossing back another long, satisfying swallow, enjoying the burn as it seared down his throat, settling hot and smooth in his gut.

Hitching himself up on the tiled counter, Jeremy took a slow sip of coffee. “You know what your problem is, Mase?”

Yeah, he knew what his problem was. His problem was five feet, four inches of irresistible, addictive female that had him so tied up in emotional knots, he felt like a friggin’ ball of string. “Something tells me you’re going to be a pal and spell it out for me,” he said, the resignation in his tone unmistakable.

“That’s right, because you’re like a brother to me. I’m not going to stand by and watch you wreck the best damn thing that’s ever happened to you because you’re too chickenshit to open your eyes to what’s going on.” Finishing off his coffee, Jeremy set the empty mug in the sink, scratched at the golden stubble on his chin, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you see all those books she had in her apartment?”

“What about ’em?” he drawled, leaning back in his chair, one hand curled around the glass of whiskey as he rested it on the table, the other lying indolently across his stomach.

A small smile hovered at the edge of Jeremy’s mouth. “They were all fantasies, dude. Romances.”

“Your point?”

“She’s a dreamer, Mase.”

“Yeah,” he grunted, tossing back another deep swallow of the whiskey. “And we’re the nightmare.”

Jeremy shook his head, his hazel eyes piercing. “That’s not what I’m saying, man.”

Frustration roiled through his gut, keeping company with the slow burn of the whiskey. “If you’re trying to tell me something, then for God’s sake, just say it.”

“She believes in love,” his partner shot back in a rough blast of words, clearly losing his patience. “In happily-ever-afters and till death do you part. Stop selling yourself short, because the woman is already nuts for you. Hell, she was made for you. You think you can overcome this as easily as you’ve managed everything else. But guess what? You can’t. This isn’t just another asinine rule that pisses you off. This is something that grabbed you and Torrance by the throat, something deeper and more powerful than any pain-in-the-ass law the pack could ever have come up with. You can’t twist it to fit your terms.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. And at the risk of repeating myself,” he growled, “this is pretty rich coming from you.”

Jeremy hopped off the counter, angry tension riding the hard lines of his body as he began pacing the length of the kitchen. “Why the hell do you think I know what I’m talking about, Mase? You need to get your head out of your butt and take some advice for a change. Let go of the past, of what happened with Dean, and grab hold of what you’ve been given. Don’t hold yourself back, because it’s going to eat you up inside. It’s going to sink into your cells like a cancer and never let you go. You’ll lose her, man, and then you’re going to be totally screwed.”

“Like you?” he sneered, irritated to be put on the spot, even though he knew Jeremy was speaking the truth.

His partner stopped pacing, the look in his hazel stare shadowed and bleak as he nodded his head. “Yeah, like me,” he muttered.

“Sooner or later, Burns, you’re going to have to—” The metallic tones of Mason’s cell phone rang out, interrupting him.

“You better answer that.”

A quick look at the screen revealed the caller’s name. “Yeah. It’s Hennessey. Wonder what the hell he wants.” Pressing the call button, Mason lifted the phone to his ear. “Missing us already?”

“If Burns is there with you, you better put the speaker on.” The Irishman’s tone was grim, all business, putting Mason on instant alert.

Setting the phone on the table, he hit the speaker button. “Okay, what’ve you got?”

“When we left there, I got a call on my cell from Lydia Clarkson. She’s a schoolteacher up in Shadow Peak.”

Jeremy moved closer, jerking his chin toward the phone. “Wasn’t she the pure-blood you were nailing last year?”

“Six months ago,” Cian corrected him. “But believe it or not, we’re still friends. Anyway, she was out hiking near the Alley, over on Clausen Ridge, when she came across something she thought we’d want to know about, so Brody and I figured we’d go ahead and come over to check it out.”

“What is it?” Mason muttered, not liking the heavy feeling mixing in his gut.

“We’ve got another body,” the Irishman said tightly. “Similar to the case we’re already on.”

His partner’s breath made a sharp, whistling sound between his compressed lips. “Jesus! You mean the heart was eaten out?”

“Yeah, but there’s more. It’s an ugly scene. We’re talking seriously whacked-out stuff. I know you don’t want to leave the little woman right now, Dillinger, but you’re really going to want to see this for yourself.”

“Hell,” he rumbled, rubbing the backs of his fists into his eyes so hard that sparks burned against the darkness of his mind. “Okay. I should be there within fifteen.”

“We’ll be waiting.”

Mason disconnected the call, then ran his hands back through his hair, the uneasy weight settling deeper into his gut, warning him that this was going to be bad.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Jeremy muttered, his voice low—seconding his own feelings. “Seriously, man,” his partner grunted, his expression hard as he leaned his hip against the edge of the table, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “This is all getting a little too close to home.”

“Which is why I need you to stay here, Jeremy.” He knew the Runner wasn’t going to like it, but there wasn’t any other choice. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—leave Torrance unprotected. And someone needed to keep an eye on Elliot.

“I don’t like being the damn watchdog,” Jeremy grunted, his expression twisted into a hard scowl.

Mason stood up and took his empty glass to the sink, then grabbed the bottle of Jack, stashing it back in the pantry. “Until you’re a hundred percent, you’re not setting foot out of the Alley. And you know there’s no one else I can trust to watch over them.”

“All right, all right. Whatever.” He sighed. “But you owe me big-time, you bastard.”

Mason arched one brow. “Don’t I always?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy muttered. “But this time, I’m collecting. Better watch it, or the next thing you know, you’re gonna be buying me a new set of tires for my truck. Big, shiny off-roaders. Top o’ the line.”

“You’re letting me off easy, Burns,” he shot back with a gruff laugh. “You want tires, and here I was thinking of sending you to a tropical-island paradise with some half-naked beach bunnies. Might as well make use of the time you’re gonna have off when this crap is over and Torrance and I can finally take our honeymoon.”

Jeremy’s head jerked up, a satisfied smile kicking up the corner of his mouth. “So you’re gonna stop being a jackass and make a blood bond with the girl?”

Snatching up his cell, Mason hooked the phone back on its clip, then walked into the living room, pulling a heavy, brown leather jacket out of the entryway closet. Jeremy followed right on his heels, waiting for an answer. “I don’t need to bond with her just to marry her,” he said in a low voice. “And even if I wanted to, which I don’t, do you really think she’d go for the idea of my fangs sinking into her throat? You know how she feels about Lycans. She’d probably slap my face if I even suggested it.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched his partner shake his head in quiet regret. “Man, you really are chickenshit. You know that?”

“Watch it, Jeremy,” he snorted, slipping into the jacket. “You know what they say about stones and glass houses.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jeremy grunted, his tone thick with frustration. “But if you ask me, you’re not giving her enough credit. If she loves you, she’ll accept a blood bond. Hell, if she loves you, she’ll even want it.”

“And if she doesn’t, she’ll try to run again.” After all, she hadn’t said that she loved him—only that she was afraid of loving him and that love not being returned.

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before you let her do that,” Jeremy muttered. “Now go on and get the hell outta here. And watch your back.”

Mason didn’t want to go. On the other hand, the fresh air might do his head some good. Help him sort out the tangled mess screwing with his mind—all of it centered on a tempestuous little redhead he was terrified of losing.