River Wolf (4 page)

Besides, hiking some of his favorite trails and climbing the rock formations to reach the next level was damn fun. Outside, he let his eyes adjust to the darkness. His wolf surged beneath his skin. Like him, the animal enjoyed their solitary excursions as much for the physical pushing they did as for enjoying the land itself.

Humid air clung to him as he began the first jog toward the woods. Hudson River owned several thousand acres of the surrounding countryside and a good chunk of their valley through various subsidiaries and holding companies.

Keeping his pace light, he scanned the land around him and loped toward the healer’s house first. Though Owen and Gillian were absent, he always kept a close eye on their home. From there, he ran toward Trent’s. The two Hunters assigned to his protection rotated their nights spent with the family, but the boy was never left alone. His Hunter might keep his distance, allowing the child to be a child, but he was never out of earshot or easy reach.

Death didn’t care whom it took, young or old, strong or weak. No, if death came hunting his wolves again, Brett would go down fighting before he let another innocent fall. The heat in his muscles began a slow burn as he increased his pace. Milo stepped near the trail, letting his Alpha catch his scent when Brett drew near. He didn’t pause to talk to the Hunter, the wolf’s awareness of him and actions spoke volumes.

One by one, he’d taken each Hunter aside for long conversations. Discussions he used to measure their trustworthiness and level of comfort within Hudson River. While he only trusted without question a small handful, the number grew with each interview. Gillian’s test for their mental health and Owen’s assessment as a senior Hunter of another pack helped solidify the trust.

Every pack needed a strong structure at the head, wolves who could be delegated to and relied upon. Not every wolf felt comfortable approaching an Alpha, whereas if they reached out to a senior wolf they could trust, then that wolf could bring the issue to him. An imperfect system, but one designed to facilitate to the needs of the pack. The structure had worked for them before several of his Hunters fell victim to Marco’s madness and the use of a gun. He’d mourned their loss, helped Gillian save whom they could, but the trust amongst his wolves shattered—his trust most of all.

An Alpha was responsible for every member, yet he was only one person. Before Marco, Brett believed he’d done a good job of looking after his people. His grandfather, Hatcher, took care of their physical health, while Brett’s mother Margaret, helped manage the women’s groups from the mothers to the teachers to the young females coming into their own. A task, she’d reminded him on more than one occasion, she would pass to Brett’s mate, when Brett took one.

A mate.
The thought sent another burn through his chest, but it wasn’t one of physical exertion. Gillian would have been a perfect mate for him, her submissiveness and sweetness a perfect compliment to the darker side of his nature. Her invaluable talents could have helped him rebuild his pack, and he would never betray her—because Gillian needed to be needed and she liked to be cared for. Brett would have surrounded her with Hunters and protection, so no one would ever have touched her.

Not even me…
The reality chased the pipe dream. Yes, Gillian was perfect in so many ways because she
wasn’t
his mate. Her pure generosity and gentle nature invited everyone to care for her, and Brett would gladly slay anyone who caused her harm, but she loved her mate. She loved him with all her being and their love was a beautiful thing to behold.

He could admire Gillian and covet her because he would never have her. She’d never truly been an option. He didn’t dare let his attention wander to the other females in his pack, not when too many unknowns threatened. So, giving Gillian his affection protected his pack as much as anything.
Also her mate is a worthy Hunter and powerful wolf in his own right.

Not only had Owen saved his mate when Marco tried to kill her, he’d helped save Brett and the pack. He never faulted Brett for leaning on his mate nor took issue with the affection between them.
Because he knows I will never poach what is his, and I’d kill the first wolf who tried.

His wolf lashed at him in agitation. The more he dwelled on the matter, the more his attention wavered from the course before him. They needed a good fight, but for the time being, the run would have to do. Leaving the small grouping of houses behind, he cut across the land toward the river and the rock walls. The natural formations would give him something to climb, and if that didn’t satisfy his need for violence, he’d shift and go for a good hunt.

What else did he have to do on a Saturday morning?

T
wo hours
later and slick with sweat and rain, Brett ascended the stairs of his house in search of a shower. He’d torn the palms of his hand during the last ascension of a sheer rock face, but he’d managed it. More scar tissue had given in the climb allowing him greater range of motion with his left shoulder. Gillian would be irritated with him when she returned, but it had been worth the effort. Even his wolf seemed satisfied with their run.

In the bathroom, he stripped and ignored the view of his mottled scarring in the mirror. He knew how much damage he’d suffered after Marco struck him with the gun and sent him headfirst into the fire. He’d lost nearly all of his hair, and would have lost his eye if not for Gillian. The healer’s skills had saved him a great deal of grief, though he’d initially refused her ministrations.

He could admit to himself that he was grateful for her stubbornness when it came to listening to him. Twisting the water on, he stepped into the cold stream without waiting for it to heat up. With a hiss then a laugh, he let the spray sluice over him. The temperature rose as he finished washing and grew hot enough to let him shave in comfort.

Fifteen minutes later, he strode into his kitchen and checked his cell phone. The quiet in the house pursued him, a relentless stalker he did his best to dismiss. Even if he couldn’t ignore the emptiness, he didn’t have to allow it to bother him. He chose to live alone and, though the Alpha’s house was most often a social center for the pack, his pack mates tended to gravitate toward his mother and the other senior females.

Maybe that needs to change again…

Once upon a time, it had been common to find wolves in and out of his house every day. He shared meals with them, chased them out when he wanted to seduce a lover and enjoyed the background hum of their chatter. The loud silence surrounding the hiss of his coffee maker and the clicking of the stove as he turned it on only served to remind him of their absence.

He cooked three pieces of bacon, two eggs, a handful of shredded potatoes and two pieces of toast. After cleaning as he went, he carried his prepared meal and coffee mug to the table. The chair scraped across the floor, echoing in the kitchen. Turning his cell phone over, he opened the email account and began to review his messages while he ate.

Three notes from Mason included updates on Three Rivers. After a half-dozen wolves from Hudson River had packed in the middle of the night and migrated to the sixth pack, he’d alerted Mason and Julian to their passage. The Chief Enforcer notified him when they’d been spotted. Mason reported they had applied to Luciana Barrows for admission to her pack. The last note detailed Trent’s upcoming sojourn to Willow Bend along with a schedule for the time Trent would be spending with Willow Bend’s primary healer, Emma. Mason kept him looped in on all the fine print, and Brett appreciated the other Alpha’s forethought and care. Since none of the messages required an answer, he didn’t send one.

Returning to his main inbox, he scanned the rest of the contents. One note from Serafina Andre and a second from Cassius were left. Both were general check ins and updates, though Serafina’s included the offer of one of her local healers to help fill in during the interims when Gillian and Trent returned to Willow Bend. A provocative offer, and one he would consider.

Another message from Luciana herself. Brett considered the unopened email. He had initiated no contact with the tacit Alpha of the sixth pack. Resentment filtered through his bloodstream. Members of his pack had left him for her…was that her fault?
No.
Did he really want to have a discussion with her?
Not really.
Should he open a dialogue with her?

Ignoring the last question, he scrolled through the emails. A note from Chrystal Royce, once Landros and should have been Dalton leapt out at him.
Dallas’ daughter.
How strange to know after all these years that his cousin had a daughter. He’d not seen or heard from Dallas more than in passing since she went Lone Wolf. At first, everyone in the family assumed it would be a phase. It wasn’t that unusual for a wolf to go Lone for a few years, and most returned to the pack eventually.

Not Dallas.

The message from Chrystal included a photo of a pair of grey wolves—she called them Mama and Pup. They’d become pen pals of a sort. Though he’d offered her an open invitation to visit, she’d as yet to accept. Her reasons, however, were utterly sound.
I’m still getting a feel for what being an Omega means, and I’m getting to know my new pack. Dylan is wonderful, and we do plan to visit, I promise. I want to get to know you, too.

How different Chrystal was from Dallas. What he remembered of his cousin was a strong, beautiful, vibrant wolf with a will of iron and a determination to explore the world. No one ran over Dallas. No one could call her a ray of sunshine either, but her fires had always burned far below the surface.

Setting aside his fork, he typed a quick response to Chrystal.
I look forward to the day you come to visit us. You and your mate have Safe Haven and all my wolves will know this. Safe Haven, so you understand the term, means you have right of free passage into Hudson River. You also have the right to ask for my assistance. No one will challenge you. Come when you are ready, my cousin.

Message sent, he resumed eating and scanning the rest of his messages. Some were from his business managers about various holdings. He’d handle those when he stepped into his office. The myriad of corporate holdings maintained by Hudson River were also his, and the profits not funneled back to keeping the corporations strong were used to infuse the pack with capital.

Plate clean, he stood as the phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but only a specific number of people had his direct line. Answering, he said, “This is Brett.”

“Forgive the intrusion, Alpha. This is Dan Skinner, Enforcer for the northeastern corridor. I wanted to give you an update on Luc Danes.”

Don’t let him be dead…
His last report listed the wolf as awake from his coma.

“He checked himself out of the hospital about an hour ago, an hour before he knew I was on the way to check on him. No one at the hospital seems to know where he went, and he left against doctor’s orders.”

Relief and amusement filled him. That sounded like Luc. “He had to be strong enough to leave if he left.”

“I agree, except…” The Enforcer hesitated.

“Except?”

“I’d told him about your offer, Mr. Dalton. And the security guard at the front doors of the hospital told me he left with a human who used to work at the hospital. I have a name of Colby, but no last name. I’m going to start tracking him…”

“He could be on his way here.” Brett exhaled. Leaving with a human? Had he charmed some poor sucker into being his driver?

“Yes, sir.”

“Thanks for the information. My invitation to Luc stands. If he arrives, I’ll have one of my Hunters contact you.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll be in touch if I locate him in the meanwhile.”

“Fine.” The call ended and Brett stared across the empty kitchen. Luc was alive and out of the hospital. If he were stubborn enough to get himself discharged and find a ride, then he would be just fine.

Best news of the day.

His phone rang again on his way toward the office. The number was for his corporate attorney in Manhattan.

So the day begins…

L
ess than an hour
away from Alba and Colby ground her teeth as Luc changed the radio station—again. The reception sucked, her tape player was dead and her 1983 Volkswagen Rabbit didn’t have anywhere to plug in a smartphone. So the radio was the only source of entertainment.

“You should get an aftermarket satellite system,” Luc said for the tenth time. Their options were Christian rock, country, National Public Radio and a French station—one she was pretty sure came from Canada, but what did she know?

Not quite ready to drum her fingers on the steering wheel, she focused her attention on the road. “Can’t afford one. You should probably try to sleep, anyway.”

He didn’t look good. Though he swore he wouldn’t die on her, she wasn’t so sure about it based on his pallor. “You will after this trip.” A grimace accompanied the statement as he braced his right arm on the open window. Though grey clouds seemed to line their path, the rain had held off.

Which was good, because she didn’t have air conditioning. She’d tied a colorful scarf around her bobbed hair in an effort to keep the ends out of her eyes. Her sunglasses rested on her head on the off chance the clouds parted. Leaving Alba should be cause for rejoicing, but unfortunately the weather didn’t agree with her. She even had to tug on a light sweater to keep from being chilly.

The fingers of his free hand continued to drum against his leg as he tried to stretch his legs again. Though they were still in casts, he didn’t seem to let the plaster slow him down. She’d put the passenger seat back as far as it would go, but his six foot five inch frame did not fit comfortably in her old car. “You’re not going to try and sleep are you?”

According to the directions he’d given her, they had another three, maybe four hours to go on their drive. She wasn’t speeding, in fact, he’d already complained about her hugging the speed limit. Not that she cared. She’d had enough of Maine to last her the rest of her life. She wanted to give the law no new excuses to keep her around.

“No,” he half-growled the word and a shiver raced along her spine. Coughing once, he sighed. “Sorry, I had enough of the drug induced sleep in the hospital, and I can’t look after you if I’m asleep.”

It was on the tip of tongue to point out he didn’t have to look after her, since she was driving and he was a passenger. But she kept it to herself. He’d given her a thousand dollars in cash after stopping at a bank. He’d given her his bankcards and three sets of pins, she’d withdrawn the max on each card—per his instructions—then handed it all over to him. He’d counted off the crisp bills and said he’d give her the balance when they got there.

The cash provided her with the final answer of how to put Alba behind her fully. After the bank, she drove through a Starbuck’s line, grabbed two coffees and some breakfast sandwiches. Luc hadn’t asked, but considering his mood, she thought it better to feed the beast. Then she’d driven to the street she grew up on. Her mother wouldn’t answer the door even if she knocked, so she didn’t bother. At the mailbox, she slid the envelope full of cash inside after writing a note on it. Luc hadn’t said a word during the exercise, a fact for which she remained grateful. After sliding the envelope inside, she closed the box and pulled away. Not once did she look in the rearview mirror.

Putting a period on that chapter of her life left her stomach in knots and her heart aching. Luc’s constant fiddling with the radio and grumbling complaints sheered away her grief and replaced it with annoyance. When he reached for it again, she slapped his good hand. “Enough. The reception sucks and you’re giving me a headache.” Every time he flipped the station, the feedback or whistling seemed to slice through her. “Take a nap. Pretend to sleep. Daydream. Just leave the radio alone.”

A huff of sound punched through her irritation and she squinted at him sideways. Laughter wheezed out of him and she scowled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, sweet cheeks.” He coughed, but couldn’t quite disguise the snicker beneath the sound.

“You’re lying.” She always had a good sense about these things. “And you’re laughing at me.”

“Actually,” he grinned, almost laconic. “I’m laughing at me. Not many people talk to me the way you do—or dare to slap my hand—and it amuses me.”

“I’m really surprised.” It was her turn to shake her head.

“That it amuses me?” Humor still colored each word.

“That more people don’t smack you around. You could use a hard slap to the back of the head.” Course, she was one to talk. “I feel like I’m contributing to the delinquency of a minor.”

“Trust me, I’m definitely of legal age.” He shifted again, the tick in his jaw and faint grimace betraying his continued discomfort. “So feel free to contribute to my delinquency all you like. How long till we stop for lunch?”

“We just had breakfast.”

“That snack was no where near enough food.” Pointing at a sign for a steakhouse, he released another harsh exhale. “They probably aren’t open are they?”

“Doubtful. You’re hurting. I know they gave you something at the hospital before they released you. You can take it…”

“No.” Adamant as he might be, no one should be suffering the way he was currently. “Yes, I’m in pain, but I’ll live. Pain’s a teacher. And I need my wits about me and the drugs don’t help, they just make me not care that I’m in pain and slow down my reactions. You want me to feel better? Help me find some real food, my treat.”

Colby shook her head. “You’re crazy.” But who was crazier? Him because he put himself through hell? Or her, since she was the one who let him?

“Stubborn. Mind over matter sweet cheeks.” The growl was back in his voice, and his expression tensed. Okay, they needed to get his mind off his agony or his blood pressure would rise and that couldn’t be good. If only she could elevate his legs.

“Maybe we should get you into the backseat so you can put your legs up.” She could fold the front seat forward. Theoretically, she could even remove it, but she had a couple of suitcases and two boxes in the trunk. All her possessions in the world fit in her tiny ass trunk. Pathetic.
Or living light. I’m not tied down by material things. Nothing wrong with that, right?

“Tell me about you.” Instead of responding to her suggestion, he changed the subject.

“Not really any of your business. We’re strangers. I’m taking you to your destination. You’re paying me, I’m leaving.” And going south. Key West, maybe. She could get a job serving drinks somewhere and just soak up the sun for a few months. After…well, she’d worry about after when it got there.

“We’re not strangers. You’re Colby. I’m Luc. You’re leaving the town you grew up in and I’m going back to the town I grew up in. We have a lot more in common than you think.” Every word seemed to cost him to enunciate, but despite the sweat on his face he didn’t utter a complaint.

“That’s reaching.”

“It’s called a start. I’ll even give you another detail, I was in the hospital after a car accident.”

Keeping her attention split between the speedometer, the traffic on the interstate and the signs indicating upcoming gas stations, fast food, and hotels, she said, “You were hit by a car. I think that’s a little different than being in a car accident. More like a hit and run. And I knew that. It was on the report the night they brought you in.”

“Were you in the ER when they brought me in?” He didn’t seem to mind the correction.

“No, I don’t—didn’t work the ER. But we talk and you were big news that night. Not sure how long you were in Alba before you came to the hospital, but nothing happens there.”

“You happened there.”

Was he flirting with her? She jerked the wheel when she started to wander into the other lane. He made a grunting noise. “Sorry. Don’t do that.”

“Breathe?” Incredulity punctuated the word.

“Don’t flirt with me. We’re not on a date. You aren’t getting lucky. I don’t want to get to know you better.”
Liar
. “I’m your driver. We have a deal. You’re paying me money to deliver you to the middle of nowhere New York. Does New York even have a middle of nowhere?” New York was an island and a state, yes, she was aware of the state but when she thought of New York, she thought Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty. “Are we going anywhere near Battery Park? Or the Brooklyn Bridge?”

Silence greeted her inquiry and she cut a look in his direction. His eyes were half-closed and the corners of his mouth were curved. Man, Luc had a weird sense of humor. “Keep talking,” he said after a long moment. “It’s strangely soothing.”

“Uh huh.” A sign ahead announced a twenty-four hour restaurant. It wasn’t the steakhouse he’d requested, but she’d bet her car keys they served something resembling steak. “I’m not talk radio for you either. There’s a place to eat at the next exit. Getting you in this car was a hell of an exercise. Are you okay with me pulling in and getting takeout?”

“That’s fine. I don’t enjoy the idea of hobbling on these casts.” Then under his breath, he added. “I should have had them cut off before I left.”

“You can’t have them cut off,” she snapped. “Look, you have some nasty breaks. I saw the x-rays when they went over it with you. You’re going to be in those casts for a while and you’re going to need a good orthopedic physician and therapy.” Hopefully, he had someone at home who could manhandle him around. He had several pounds on her and she was hardly a shrinking violet, but he was dead weight at the moment.

“Hmm.” The strength of his regard struck her again.

Following the exit, she stayed on the access road all the way to the restaurant. “If they don’t have steaks, burgers will work, right?” He liked the burgers at the hospital.

“Sounds good.” The strain underscoring each word concerned her more than anything. Pulling into the lot, she parked, then reached over to touch his face. His skin was on fire.

“You have a fever.”
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

“I’ll be fine.” His eyes were half closed, and his voice thicker. “Something cold to drink would be nice.”

“You need to be in a hospital.”

“Colby.” The way he phrased her name sent shivers skating over her skin. “I need to be where I am. Go, get the food. My wallet is here…” He tapped the leather billfold on his lap. “Food. Cold drink. Get something for yourself.”

Maybe they had a travel mart. “I’ll get you some acetaminophen.” Ibuprofen would work faster, but she didn’t dare give him a blood thinner. A thermometer would be good, too. “Stay here, okay?” For the first time, she wished she had air conditioning, so she could at least cool the air around him. Stretching past him into the back seat, she tugged out a blanket and draped it over him, but left room for air to escape. Fevers could lead to chills, chills could cause him more issues.

“Not going anywhere.” Amusement seemed to tug at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t worry sweet cheeks, I’ll be fine. Go, get us some food.”

The interior of the restaurant was exactly what she expected. She put in an order for several burgers, fries, and two strawberry shakes. Based on his reaction before, he probably would have taken the strawberry shake if not for her. While the cooks worked on the meal, she stole a look outside. She half-expected him to be sleeping, but his eyes were open and he watched the shop. Was he trying to make sure she didn’t escape?

A small mini mart occupied the far corner of the restaurant nearest the gas station. It cost her three times their value, but she picked up a half dozen packets of pain killers, a couple of bottles of water, a bag of ice and an ice pack. One arming her load back to the restaurant, she managed to pick up the bag of to go boxes and the two shakes. Awkwardly, she carried the whole load back to the car.

First things first, she got a burger open for him to eat, then pulled the car over to another spot where they could have some privacy. Luc grunted at her choice, but she ripped open the pain reliever packages. “I don’t remember any allergies on your chart. Can you take acetaminophen?”

“I’m not allergic to anything,” was his only comment.

Tapping the pills onto her palm, she handed him four. “Take those.” She half-watched him while she pushed the driver’s side door open then wrestled with the ice bag. She filled the pack, then slid it over behind his neck.

Air hissed out from Luc’s lips and the yellow in his eyes deepened. Weird response to pain, but the light was off with the clouds. “Not sure whether to thank you or curse you for that.”

“We need that fever down. They didn’t have a decent thermometer in there, but if you don’t look better in thirty minutes, I’ll find us a hospital.”

“No.” Command resonated within the word. “The food, the pills—they’ll help and I can see the physicians at home.”

Her policy of noninvolvement wavered. “Luc…”

“It’s okay,” he soothed her. Why the hell was he comforting her? “I’ll be fine. I promise, I won’t die in your car. You’re too interesting to cut the conversation short, anyway.”

“Stop flirting with me.” The admonishment came out rote, but she refused to let his stubbornness charm her. Over the last few years, she’d learned some brutal lessons. One hard and fast rule was never let the bad boy in and, no matter how helpless and weak he seemed at the moment, Luc was a bad boy.

Wheezing a laugh, he coughed. At the harsh sound, she unscrewed the water bottle and handed it to him. He washed down his pills with half the bottle then took another bite of his burger. Satisfied he was eating, she arranged the food so he had easy access and pulled the fries up where he could reach them. After adding a straw to the shake, she set it in the cup holder closest to his right hand—better for him to grip.

“Do you need a bathroom break?”

“Not getting out of the car,” he said around a mouthful.

“No, I didn’t think you were.” She held up an empty water bottle. “Not much different than a bedpan, and we’ve already had that experience.” Keeping it clinical gave him his dignity and kept her from being embarrassed.

Another slow head shake. “I’m good, sweet cheeks. No need to put either of us through that. Not that I mind your hand on my cock, but I’d rather be in the position to return the favor.”