Omega Moon Rising (Toke Lobo & The Pack) (29 page)

“Fine.” Luke signaled their server.

Abby stared out the window as the familiar streets of home unfurled around her . . . like tentacles. She shook off the foreboding.
Maybe Oak Moon really wasn’t her home any longer. Gary’s death had opened her eyes to just how much he had isolated the Grant women from the lives they’d known before he targeted them.

Luke turned down a side street. The Sendall Funeral Home sign caught her eye. “Do we have time to stop here?” Anything to delay the meeting with Luke’s specialists. “I spoke with Digger about the bill for Mama’s funeral today.”

“Gary didn’t take care of it?”

“No.”

“Then the pack will pay the bill.”

“That’s what Restin said. But I don’t want the pack taking care of anything. There has to be insurance money. Maybe the paperwork is with the stuff I gave Tokarz last night. Digger said he’d set up a payment plan. Let’s see if he’s in.”

“When did you talk to Restin?”

“This morning, when he dropped off my mail.” She braced herself for another lecture about staying away from the pack beta, but Luke must have finally figured she was serious.

He pulled into the funeral home parking lot. “No one is here,” he said as he drove behind the darkened building.

“I see a light. There. Second window.”

“Looks like a night light.”

Abby shook her head. “No, I think the back door isn’t closed all the way.”

“Abs, we don’t have time—”

“Luke, make time. Humor me, will you? I don’t drive. I’m stuck on that mountain of yours and can’t get to Oak Moon to handle my business. Unless you want me to call Restin again.”

“You don’t have personal business. The pack takes care of all that stuff. Isn’t that why you turned over all your papers to Tokarz last night?”

His super phone buzzed, as he parked the truck. He yanked the phone from his pocket. “Yeah?”

He listened for a few minutes. “We’re on our way to the hotel now. Abby wanted to stop at Sendall’s—”

Abby didn’t hear the rest. She opened the door and slipped out of the cab.

“Hey,” Luke called after her, but she hurried across the crushed stone lot to the back door.

The door was open a crack. The light she’d seen seeped through the narrow fissure. Abby pushed on the door. It swung open on well-oiled hinges. She knew where Digger’s office was from spending far too much time in the funeral home over the past month. She made her way down the thickly carpeted hall.

The sound of soft sobs threaded the air.
Digger must be with a grieving family
, Abby thought. Going over their options, showing them caskets—all the things he’d done with her after her mother’s death. Funny. She hadn’t seen any vehicles in the parking lot. Digger, she knew, lived in an apartment branching off one side of the building and usually kept his car in his garage.

She turned to leave when the unmistakable sound of running footfalls halted her. People didn’t run in funeral homes—apart from small children who were there for calling hours. Except all four viewing rooms were empty.

“No, Uncle Dougie!”

Abby froze. What
was Libby doing in Oak Moon?
And Uncle Dougie? But before Abby could decide what to do, Libby rounded a corner. She was naked.

“Abby!” Libby ran to her and buried her face against Abby’s sweater.

“What are you doing here?” Abby asked.

“I used Granny’s phone to call Uncle Dougie to come get me because you and Luke wouldn’t take me to the mall with you. I snuck out to meet him.”

“But your guards. Where were they?”

Digger Sendall stepped around the corner and stopped. “An injection of embalming fluid took care of them.”

Abby shoved Libby behind her. “What’s going on?” As if she couldn’t put the pieces together to create a pretty nasty picture. “Is this Uncle Dougie? Mr. Sendall is Uncle Dougie?” Libby nodded against the small of Abby’s back.

“Douglas Sendall,” Digger said. “Digger is just a nickname because my dad was a mortician. It’s not uncommon. By the way, thanks for telling me where you were staying up with those weirdoes in Loup Garou, so I could fetch Elizabeth when she called me to complain you and Omega left her behind. She’s not quite done being one of Uncle Dougie’s favorite nieces.”

“They’re not were-does,” Libby said. “They’re were-wolves that will rip you to pieces and gobble you down. And I don’t like being one of your favorite nieces. Not when you tie me up.”

“But you like being tickled, and I was going to tickle you to death.”

A shudder ran through Abby. “I . . . I think I’m going to take her home,” she stammered, as she inched toward the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Digger said.

“I stopped in to deal with Mama’s bill, and—”

“That’s okay, Abigail,” Digger said. “I only sent the bill in hope of finding where you and your sister were hiding. Gary paid for your mama’s funeral right away.”

“We’re not hiding,” Abby said. “I got married. In fact, my husband—”

“Spare me the details. Gary told me all about you being knocked up by Toke Lobo’s drummer. Why don’t you and your sister come on back downstairs with me? Now.”

Abby shook her head. “Luke is expecting me. And Granny is probably frantic with worry about you, Miss Libby. Let’s—”

“Get downstairs. Now.”

How long would Luke wait before he came looking for her?

“I don’t wanna go back downstairs,” Libby shrieked. “That’s where you work on the dead bodies.”

Digger reached behind Abby and grabbed Libby’s arm. “That’s enough out of you young lady, unless you want a spanking.” He dragged her toward the basement stairs. He looked at Abby over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

“What if I say no?” Abby asked.

Digger pulled something from his pocket. A low swish as a blade leapt from the handle, glinting in the dim light from the stairwell, told Abby everything she needed to know.

“Or, yes. I remember you have a nice selection of caskets.”

“You go first.” Digger gestured with the knife.

“I’m real unsteady on stairs these days,” Abby lied. “That’s one of the reasons Luke and I are staying at his grandmother’s house.”

The knife flicked off a piece of Libby’s hair. Libby shrank as her eyes grew wider and fixed on Abby.

“Your railing looks sturdy,” Abby said. She stepped toward Digger.

Digger shoved Libby down the stairs.

Abby started after her sister, but stopped when a blast of heat hit her back. Her sinus cavities shifted in her head and her ears popped.

She clutched the railing with both hands, frantic not to tumble down the rest of the stairs. The pipe wrenched free from its wall mountings and clattered its way to the concrete floor below. But she didn’t fall. She was safe on the landing.

Someone pulled her close.
Luke,
she thought.

But no. A low growl behind her meant Luke had paws, not arms.

Digger swung her around until she was between Luke and him. A few more seconds passed before she realized Digger’s knife was pressed against her throat.

Luke was poised at the top of the stairs.

“Where the hell did that wolf come from?” Digger’s voice was hoarse.

“Loup Garou,” Libby said. “Loup Garou means werewolf in French.”

Abby didn’t dare move because of the blade stroking her skin. Luke’s blue wolf eyes glared at Digger.

Who laughed at Libby’s explanation. “I know there are a lot of wolves higher in the mountains, but come on, Elizabeth. Werewolves?”

“Don’t laugh at me.” Libby’s tone was the one Abby dreaded. “Luke is a werewolf. I’ve seen him change.”

Luke’s nostrils flared. His upper lip curled. Exposed long, curving fangs. His growl moved deeper into his throat. Abby’s breath caught in hers, as if snagging on the knife.

Luke crouched to spring, but Abby wasn’t scared. For the first time since she’d learned Luke’s true nature, she was not afraid.

“Libby,” she said, her voice a bit unsteady.

Digger jerked her closer. Tighter.

“Go put on your clothes.” She didn’t want Libby to witness whatever was about to happen.

Abby knew, clearly and coldly, the only thing preventing Luke from launching himself at Digger was the knife.

Libby scurried out of Abby’s line of vision.

The wolf’s gaze flicked to Abby for the briefest instant.

“Do you really think a wolf is going to care if it kills me before it kills you?” Abby asked. “Holding a knife to my throat isn’t going to stop him from pouncing.”

“Shut up.” Maybe Digger held her a little less tightly.

“What if he attacks?” Abby whispered. “Shouldn’t you be ready to defend yourself with your knife instead of wasting it on me?”

She followed the suggestion with a soft laugh. “Unless you believe Libby’s tale about werewolves.”

Digger lowered the knife from her throat, but he didn’t release her. She was his shield. The wolf’s first intended victim.

Breathing was easier without the blade threatening her windpipe. Every muscle in her body relaxed.

Luke advanced. Digger dragged Abby to a lower stair. The pattern repeated two more times, as if Luke and Digger were inventing a new dance.

Abby wished she still stood on the relative width of the mid-staircase landing. The narrow steps did not leave a lot of room to maneuver. Digger’s feet dragged along each step, seeking the edge before stepping backward, before pulling her with him. She didn’t dare lift her feet and let her body weight knock him off balance because she had her baby to consider.

“Why don’t you sing, Abby?” Libby asked. Her voice sounded very small.

Digger and Luke each descended another step.

“I don’t have my guitar,” Abby replied. She wanted to shriek for Libby to find a way out of the building, to run until she found help. But Digger might not like that.

“Sing like the beauty queen in that movie last night,” Libby said. “You know the one. With the girl FBI agent. Solar—”

“Shut up, both of you,” Digger snapped.

Abby straightened. Libby was right. Digger had dragged her more than half way to the bottom of the stairs. She didn’t know if she could manage, but she had to try, if only to give Luke a shot at Digger.

She jabbed her elbow into Digger’s stomach. His surprised grunt turned into a yelp as she brought her foot down hard on his instep.

He lost his balance and started to fall, pulling her with him. She twisted and jammed the heel of her hand into his nose at the same time she brought her knee up between his legs. Hard.

Digger hit the concrete floor, cushioning Abby’s landing. Abby rolled out of Luke’s way.

Chapter 23

Digger’s blood was bitter in Luke’s mouth as he clamped the undertaker’s penis between his teeth and chewed. That was for all the young girls the sick bastard had traumatized.

The stench of Digger’s terror clung to Luke’s nostrils. The music of his screams made up for the bad taste and smell.

Blood sprayed as Luke ripped out Digger’s throat, silencing the room.

Almost. Libby was crouched next to Abby and wailing. She was also naked. As naked as he was.

Not good. In fact, really bad. Mitchell Jasper and company were on their way.

“Where are your clothes?” he asked. “Didn’t Abby tell you to get dressed?”

“Uncle Dougie took them away from me.” Libby sniffed.

“See if you can find them,” Luke ordered. This had the potential to look bad. Really bad. Jasper knew Luke was a werewolf and should remember that clothing tended to shred during a shift, but whoever was coming with him would be ignorant. Libby was a minor. Luke was naked. The dead man at the top of the stairs was a known child pornographer. Not good.

For once in her life, Libby did as she was told.

Luke returned his attention to Abby. There was a knot on her forehead, already turning thunderhead blue. She clutched the pipe that had served as a stair railing in her hands. Maybe she’d planned to bash Digger again. Her eyes were wide. Maybe shock. Not many humans witnessed what a pissed off werewolf could do.

“Abs?” He took Libby’s place at Abby’s side. “Are you okay?”

The pipe clattered to the floor. Her fingers brushed his cheek. “You’re covered in blood.”

She hadn’t fainted or looked away. She hadn’t screamed or cried or done anything to distract him from giving Uncle Digger Dougie what he deserved.

If only he’d been faster off the phone with Jasper, who’d warned him about Sendall. If only he’d gone after Abby when she first climbed out of the truck. If he hadn’t answered a second, frantic call from Granny telling him Libby was missing, Abby might not have been grabbed by Sendall. This was his fault. All his fault.

“You’re not wearing any clothes,” Libby said as she rejoined them. She’d donned jeans and a blue sweatshirt. Her eyes picked up the color of the fabric.

“I know. If I don’t take my clothes off before I shift, they rip.”

“Why didn’t you take them off?”

“Because I was scared for Abby and you. It’s an instinct when we’re protecting our loved ones.”

Loved ones. There. He’d admitted it. He loved Abby. She wasn’t a temporary wife, but an eternal soul mate.

“Libby, I need you to go out to my truck. I have clothes in a blue bag in the back seat. Bring me the bag and grab my phone from the front seat.”

Libby nodded. Luke held Abby’s hand while he waited. Libby made it back before the sound of tires on crushed stone betrayed the arrival of a lone vehicle.

Luke placed his forefinger over his lips as a signal to Libby to be quiet, then gestured for her to hide. She nodded and slipped into one of the rooms opening off the downstairs hall, taking the bag with his clothes with her.

Luke was expecting Mitchell Jasper and company, but they would arrive in more than one vehicle. Better to remain naked in case he needed to shift again than ruin his spare set of clothes.

“What the hell?”

Luke relaxed. He recognized Mitchell Jasper’s voice. What remained of Sendall would be visible from the top of the stairs.

“Down here.”

Jasper clattered down the stairs, gun drawn. “Did you have to be quite so thorough?” He grimaced as he stared at the swamp of DNA formerly known as Douglas “Digger” Sendall. “You’re covered in blood. How am I supposed to explain that?”

“You can’t. He needs to leave,” Abby said. “Luke, you need to shift and run to the lake. Swim until the blood is gone. No trace evidence.”

Abby clearly watched too much television.

“She’s right,” Jasper said.

“My truck—”

“I drove it here,” Abby said. “Go. Please.”

“Do you need an ambulance, Mrs. Omega?” Jasper asked.

“Yes.” Abby didn’t miss a beat. “I’m pregnant, you know. I just fell down the stairs. I probably should be checked as a precautionary measure. And my sister is here, too. Sendall snatched her from Loup Garou.”

“Why didn’t you say you were hurt?” Luke reached for his phone again with shaking hands. He should have considered Rosie Dawn.

“Because I don’t know how to drive, so I can’t drive your truck home. I can’t even try. Will you please leave?” She caressed his face again. “I need you with me, not in prison for murder.”

Three days later, Luke thought the entire town of Loup Garou and the FBI had converged on Abby’s room at Granny’s house.

Luke resented being beholden to Restin for confirming his wife’s twist of the truth: she’d gone to see Sendall about an invoice related to her mother’s funeral, driving Luke’s truck to Oak Moon. While she was there, a wolf had broken into the funeral home through an open door and attacked Sendall.

The evidence supported her story. Restin had the invoice Sendall had sent to Abby. The Post Office confirmed Restin had picked up Abby’s mail. Granny’s telephone records proved Abby had called Sendall when she said she did.

Even Libby’s presence at the funeral home made sense once Abby explained it. “I took her with me. We called Digger to let him know we were coming.” That explained the second call—Libby’s call—from Granny’s phone to Digger’s number. The mysterious wolf had vanished.

Luke perched on the bed next to Abby, his fingers twined in hers. He’d barely left her side in days.

Mitchell Jasper and some FBI suit were present, as well as Restin and Tokarz Garnier. The crowd felt larger.

“Luke, without your help, we might not have nailed these guys,” the FBI guy said. “I’m sorry for your wife’s injury.”

A massive bruise looked as if she were balancing a charcoal briquette on her forehead. Luke’s free hand rested on Abby’s baby bump. Rosie Dawn. She was fine. Safe and snug in her mama’s womb. Luke nodded his acknowledgment.

“Douglas Sendall, also known as Digger Sendall had quite a business going. Young girls.” The man’s nostrils flared and his mouth tightened. “Sick bastards. He was moving into a new feature on his website—snuff films. Pay per view on the DeepNet.”

Abby tightened her fingers on Luke’s. “My stepfather told me if I tried to stop him, if anything happened to him, that’s what would happen to me.”

Luke wished again he’d been the one to kill Gary Porter. Someone as sweet and fine as Abby should never know about the sordid underside of life. “We found a hidden digital camera set up in one of the rooms at the funeral home,” the Federal Suit continued.

Luke released Abby’s hand and slid his arm behind her back, rearranging their positions until Abby’s head rested against his chest. Both of his arms were around her, as if he could protect her from the ugliness.

“Sendall had the perfect set up. He’s part owner of a crematorium between here and Fort Collins, where he could dispose of any potential bodies. Can’t extract DNA from cremains.”

“And no one would question a hearse transporting a body,” Abby whispered.

Luke tightened his embrace.  

“Your sister has been helpful. She’s a very lucky little girl.”

Luke couldn’t even imagine what was going on in Libby’s twisted brain. She’d willingly gone with Digger. Had willingly shed her clothes. Hadn’t thought to fight what was happening until Digger tried to strap her down.

“We’re unearthing all kinds of things from Sendall’s computer. Let me repeat. Your sister is a very lucky little girl. Your stepfather, it turns out, sold her to Sendall to pay off a gambling debt. Gary Porter wasn’t, as far as we can tell, a child predator. Anything he did was to pay off what he owed to Sendall.”

“Did he kill Gary?” Abby asked.

The only thing Luke cared about was that it should have been him ridding the world of Gary Porter.

“We may never know for certain,” the suit said, “but there’s a notation next to Porter’s name in Sendall’s files that says paid in full.”

After the federal guys left, Restin and Tokarz took over.

“Now you understand why mated males can’t work on treaty fulfillment,” Tokarz started out.

“In the future, my mate and her family won’t be involved,” Luke countered.

His mate. Oh, that felt so good to say. So right.

“I’m damn good on the DeepNet. I don’t even need to leave home to access it. I can take care of treaty fulfillment for the whole pack, so we never have to deal with that scat again.”

“That’s something you
want
to do?”

Luke shrugged. “Somebody has to.” His tone turned grim. “Those girls—those girls are daughters, sisters. Someone has to protect them. Avenge them.”

Tokarz studied Luke for a long time. “You’ve changed.”

“I’m a mated male in this pack. I’ve done treaty fulfillment on behalf of this pack, more than once. More than any other living adult male has. That includes you, Tokarz. And you, Restin.”

“What’s your point?” Restin snapped.

“Omega shouldn’t have to serve. Omega isn’t worthy to serve. And yet I have served with honor.”

Tokarz narrowed his yellow eyes.

“I am
not
Omega.” Luke lifted his chin. “My grandfather was Thibodaux, a good and decent delta in this pack until your grandfather decided to punish him for obeying the Ancient Ones’ wishes. My grandfather and his descendants for seven generations have been humiliated, are being humiliated, will be humiliated, for doing something you yourself have done, Tokarz. We are lowest of the low, but still not too low to work for the good of the pack. Which I have done.”

“What are you saying, Omega?” Restin snapped.

“I want my name back. I want my father, my aunt, and my grandfather’s names back. We are Thibodaux. We have brought no shame to this pack. Granny is no more shameful than Delilah. Abigail is no more shameful than Lucy Callahan Smith. If we are to be Omega based on that, then you and Stoker and Hank Hawkins should all be with me, not alpha-ing over me. As for you, Restin, if Tokarz were punished as my grandfather was punished, you could be alpha. The lycan who would be alpha. That ought to suit you.”

Restin’s upper lip curled. But he didn’t deny the allegation.

“I’ll think about it,” Tokarz finally said.

“You do that.”

“You do not speak to your alpha in that manner,” Restin growled.

“Leave him alone,” Tokarz snapped at Restin. “He makes valid points.”

Abby’s head weighed next to nothing on Luke’s chest. He wondered if she was as comfortable as he was holding her. The lump on her forehead was shrinking and fading. It looked kind of green this morning.

The other bruises Abby had sustained when she’d fallen down the stairs were also fading. He hoped he’d be able to make love to her again, and soon. The way her warm breath ruffled the hair on his chest was heating him up. All she needed to do was inhale, and he was ready to tear off her clothes.

Too bad he was in his father’s childhood room, where there was no lock on the door. Since Abby’s injury, people didn’t hesitate to visit, without any concern for privacy or anything else. Luke couldn’t wait to get her back to his own—their own—place.

There were still too many loose ends for that to happen anytime soon.

Abby stirred. “Luke.”

“Gotcha,” he said.

“I need to get up.”

He helped her put on a robe, helped her down the hall to the bathroom, waited outside the door she refused to leave open while she took care of nature, then helped her back to their room.

“What was all that stuff with Tokarz about?” she asked once she was settled back in bed. The walk had leeched color from her cheeks.

“I think Granny or Macy explained about the treaty our pack has with the government to you. Service for sanctuary.”

Abby nodded, then winced.

“We usually don’t allow mated males to work on treaty fulfillment because they’re so vulnerable. Our devotion for our mates and families supersedes everything. All a bad guy has to do is threaten our loved ones, and that’s it. The only thing our brains can do is . . . protect the mate. I never knew how strong that instinct is until I saw you with Digger.”

“I’m not your mate.” She sounded sad.

“Oh, you are wrong. Everyone else saw it, and I was too busy fighting it to acknowledge it.” He grabbed her hand. “You are my life, Abigail Grant Omega.”

“Thibodaux.”

His smile went crooked because it was too difficult to maintain. “Is being the mate of omega that bad for you?” He braced himself for her answer.

“No. I’m not lycan. I don’t understand the fine points of whatever it was you and Tokarz were saying. But it matters to you.”

He waited for her to finish saying it. But she couldn’t. Because she didn’t trust him. He had a lot of making up to do. For the rest of his life.

He’d seen how awful Tokarz and Delilah’s start had been, the rough beginning to Stoker and Lucy’s mating. His with Abby should have been better.

Wasn’t he one quarter human? Instead of fighting that part of him, he should have embraced it. Should have used it to woo Abby. Whether his mate was human or lycan didn’t matter in the long run. It was the kind of person you were. And he needed to be a better person.