Secret Worlds (527 page)

Behind Holbrook, the guys at the next occupied booth had their heads bent close together as they talked in low, furtive voices. The one across from me wore a baseball cap emblazoned with the logo of a local towing company, the brim shadowing his face, giving him a menacing appearance. Something in his narrowed eyes made me squirm in my seat and sent a shudder down my spine. However, all concerns flew out of the window as soon as our server came back, depositing a large sundae glass oozing chocolate goodness in front of me.

Holbrook rolled his eyes and chuckled as he watched me spoon a giant dollop of whipped cream into my mouth.

“Want my cherry?” I asked with a salacious grin.

Choking on his iced tea, he glowered at me while wiping spilled tea off his chin and the table.

“I’m good,” he declined, shaking his head.

“Suit yourself.”

Popping the cherry in my mouth, I made a show of licking its juice off my lips.

Holbrook practically sagged in relief when our server came back to take our order, the act of ordering a bacon cheeseburger with extra crispy fries distracting me momentarily from making any more lewd insinuations. As our server walked away Holbrook dug his cell phone out of his pocket, putting a stop to any thoughts I might have had about picking up my previous line of conversation. Smirking, I took a long sip of my milkshake as he lifted the slim phone to his ear.

“Jim? It’s Holbrook. I need you to look up an address for me. It’s for an Elena Shoup. Yeah, I’ll wait.”

I swirled the straw through my glass of chocolaty deliciousness while Holbrook waited for the guy on the other end of the line to come up with Shoup’s address. Pulling a small notebook and pen out of his jacket he scribbled down the address.

“Thanks, Jim. I owe you one.”

“That Shoup’s address?” I asked, eyeing Holbrook’s almost indecipherable chicken scratch.

“Yeah,” he replied.

I growled internally as he slipped the notebook and his phone back into his jacket before I could decipher the address.

“So…” I drawled, swiping my finger through another dollop of whipped cream.

“No,” Holbrook replied.

“Aw, come on. You already took me along to The Sage Brush.”

“Yes, and I shouldn’t have done that. You’re a civilian, one that I’m
supposed
to be protecting, not dragging around on an investigation. If Santos finds out he’ll have my ass in a sling.”

“I was on my best behavior.”

“You nearly punched the guy.”

“Yes, but I
didn’t
punch him. See, I can restrain myself,” I said, flashing him the most sweet and innocent smile I could muster.

It didn’t appear to be working.

It looked like I needed to use another tactic if I was going to get Holbrook to take me along with him to question Shoup. “You know, I’ll be able to tell if Johnson has been at her place better than any CSI team. This nose knows,” I said, tapping the end of my nose for emphasis.

“Riley…” he warned, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh come on. You’re really going to waste time driving me back to your place knowing that Johnson might be hiding out at Shoup’s?” I asked, hoping the trace of logic in my words would win him over. The indecision was written all over his face, and hoping to seal the deal I added, “Besides, with Collins and Hill with us, how much trouble could I really get into?”

“Promise to be on your best behavior?” he asked, his voice full of resignation, and in that instant I knew I had him.

“Absolutely,” I replied, though I wasn’t sure I’d be able to restrain myself if I found Johnson holed up with Shoup. Surely Holbrook would look the other way and let me rough him up just a little bit if he was there.

“Why do I have the feeling I’m going to regret this?” he asked. “No, don’t answer that. I’ll be right back,” he added with a sigh, rising from the table to stride off towards the bathroom.

From my seat, I watched his gorgeous ass walk away, not for the first time feeling my innards tighten at the memory of his toned flesh beneath my fingers. Deep in my daydream, I didn’t notice one of the guys from the other table rise and walk over until he was already looming over me. He smelled of engine oil and malevolence.

“Hey, aren’t you that woman on the news?”

“Um…” I said, looking around for Holbrook. What the hell was taking him so long?

“Yeah, you’re her. Hey, Ted, you were right; it’s her,” he called over his shoulder to his buddy.

Ted just nodded in reply, his eyes narrowing a little more.

He’s going to go cross-eyed he if keeps that up,
I thought, pulling my gaze away from him to the guy standing next to me.

Like his counterpart, he wore a mechanics style shirt over a long sleeved thermal, the name Max embroidered on the left pocket. Max was making me nervous.

“I think you’ve got me confused with someone else,” I said, my grip tightening on the edge of the table until my knuckles turned white. Hunkering down in my seat, I tried to ignore him, hoping he would take the hint and just leave me alone.

I should be so lucky,
I thought when he lingered beside the table, scrutinizing me.

At the other table Ted was still staring at me, his shadowed gaze unwavering and his lips compressed into a thin line.

What the hell is with these guys?

“Nah, you’re her. You dated that nut job Reed. The one that butchered all those girls.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Where the fuck is Holbrook?
I wondered, craning my neck to look around Max, hoping to catch a glimpse of my agent in shining armor striding out of the bathroom to come to my rescue.

“Sure you do. So, did you have any idea he was a psycho while you were boning him?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” I demanded, the words leaving my mouth before I could even think to stop them. The mother a few tables away frowned at me, muttering something about bad manners. I wanted to flip her the bird, but didn’t dare take my attention off my would-be admirer for that long.

“Did it turn you on knowing he was gutting those girls?” Max asked, refusing to leave me alone.

“No, it didn’t. Samson Reed is a sick bastard and he deserves to rot in hell for what he did to me and those other women,” I hissed, finally responding to one of his questions with something other than outright denial.

Wrong choice.

Rather than satisfying his twisted curiosity, my reply appeared to just encourage him. Leaning further into my personal space he leered at me, his gaze travelling from my face down to my breasts where it lingered for an uncomfortably long period of time before rising back up to my face. The whole exchange left me feeling like I needed a shower, and possibly some bleach.

Fucking perv.

“Did he tell you about it? Did he describe what it felt like when he gutted those girls while he was fucking you?”

“I’ve gotta go.”

Grabbing my jacket I tried to get up from the table and found my way blocked by my new groupie. Behind him his friend was rising from their table, his eyes alight with menace. He was bigger than he’d looked sitting down; he easily had five or six inches on me, and had to outweigh me by at least seventy-five pounds.

Crap on a cracker.

“Why don’t you come have some fun with me and Ted, girlie? We’ll show you a better time than Reed ever could.”

“Look, I don’t know you or what your problem is, but you need to get the hell out of my way.”

His fingers flexing at his sides, Max stepped into my path and sneered at me, baring crooked, nicotine stained teeth as he said, “You’re not going anywhere.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Sidestepping around him, I hadn’t gone more than a few steps before a grimy hand grasped my arm, pulling me back around to face him. The rough motion made pain lance through my ribs, bringing a hissing breath to my lips.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” I growled, wrenching my arm free of his grip, baring my teeth at him in a snarl.

I saw the first clumsy swing coming from a mile off and sidestepped out of his reach, his momentum carrying him forward into the edge of the table. I barely had a chance to register that he’d spilled my milkshake before he straightened and came at me again, his buddy Ted continuing to hang back, presumably waiting his turn to rough me up.

Looks like I pissed in everybody’s Wheaties this morning.

A shocked cry came from the woman a few tables over, her arms wrapping around her children, sheltering them against her chest.

“What’s going on?” the acne faced teenager asked, approaching us with the immortal surety of the young.

“Stay out of this, asshole,” Max snarled.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the teenager said, puffing up his chest in a show of authority, though the crack in his voice lessened the effect.

I didn’t even have time to blurt out a warning before Max was swinging at the poor kid, catching him on the temple and making him crumple to the floor. It was at that point that the woman’s toddler began to scream bloody murder and the old ladies by the door cried out in horror. A shit storm was brewing, and—as seemed to be happening so often lately—I was at its epicenter. Lucky me.

Using Max’s momentary distraction to my advantage, I kicked out at his knee, my feeling of triumph at his wail lost beneath my own grunting breath.

I’m so not up for this crap.

I’m no Bruce Lee, and while the lycanthropy has been able to counteract a lifetime of Oreos and coffee, it didn’t automatically change me into a kung-fu master. I wouldn’t have known how to fight my way out of a wet paper sack, let alone fend off someone intent on kicking my ass. So far I’d evaded Max and Ted through pure luck and adrenaline alone, but I was tiring, and my injuries were starting to make themselves known again, making me slow and clumsy.

The cry that rose up out of Max drowned out the toddler’s cries. He dropped down to his hands and knees, screaming and cursing all the while. One grimy hand clawed at the carpet, reaching for me, and I promptly stomped down on his fingers, adding fresh fuel to his screams of pain. At that point Ted decided that it was his turn to join in on the fun.

Where his friend had been clumsy and slow, Ted was surprisingly fast for his size. One ham-hock fist swung at me before I even had a chance to realize that he wanted to play. I had no doubt that the blow would have left me seeing stars, or worse, if Holbrook hadn’t chosen that moment to swoop in. Appearing out of nowhere, he pushed me back out of harms reach with one strong arm, and knocked Ted’s fist aside with the other.

“I think you’d better leave.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Ted asked, finally speaking. His voice was low and rough as if he had a mouth full of gravel.

“I’m the one telling you to leave before you get you and your friend into more trouble,” Holbrook replied, flipping back the edge of his jacket to reveal the badge hooked over his belt.

“Is that supposed to scare me?”

“It’s supposed to drill some sense through that thick skull. Now, why don’t you scoop up your friend and get out of here?”

“I’m not the one who should have to leave. That dirty wolf bitch has got no business being here. This place is for decent folks. Her kind shouldn’t be allowed in here,” Ted rumbled in a deep baritone.

“Hey man, I just wanted to drink my milkshake and eat my burger. I didn’t have a problem with you,” I said, peering over Holbrook’s shoulder. I’d have added something about how he and his friend were as far from “decent folks” as they could get, but his vitriol laden voice cut me off.

“Your filthy kind
is
the problem,” he snarled, and then swung his grease stained fist once more.

I couldn’t tell if he was aiming for me or Holbrook, but I flinched nonetheless, shrinking back against the edge of the booth. The meaty impact of his fist striking Holbrook in the shoulder made me wince, and from the change in his stance, I had no doubt that the FBI agent’s arm had just gone numb. Letting out some kind of hoarse war cry, Ted launched himself at Holbrook, hooking one muscled arm around his throat. In a quick blur I caught a flash of the tattoo on Ted’s wrist as the two men struggled against one another.

There was no mistaking the Radiant Cross—a cross surrounded by glowing rays of sunlight—tattooed on the inside of his wrist, or the cold lump of dread that settled in the pit of my stomach. It was the symbol of Humans for Humanity and meant that we were in even deeper shit than I’d originally thought. Ted and his dimwitted buddy weren’t just run of the mill idiots: they had the might of hatred and a sense of supremacy on their side.

As I watched Holbrook gasp for air, his face turning a disturbing shade of red, I struggled to recall if the two men had come into the restaurant after us. I couldn’t remember if they had already been here, and we had just stumbled across their path by pure accident, or if they had followed us in. The last thing I needed was for that bunch of lunatics to be tangled up in this mess too.

Would the fates really be that cruel?
I wondered.
Yes, yes they would.

“Screw this!” I hissed as I reached down to the wolf.

The bond between us was still weak, but she was eager to fight and rose up to meet me. The strength of her anger was surprising, filling me with a fresh surge of adrenaline that left me feeling weightless and invincible. I felt like I could accomplish anything. I could take out Samson and Johnson both, but first I had to deal with the human trash trying to choke out my mate.

I spared a brief thought to question the sentiment that had flitted through my mind.
My what?

A wheezing gasp from Holbrook cleared my thoughts, bringing my attention back to the matter at hand. My surroundings had shifted almost imperceptibly as my eyes bled over to wolf gold, everything visible in sharper relief and finer detail. Giving myself over to the wolf’s impulses, I moved around behind Ted and threw myself onto his back, heedless of the pain in my ribs. I felt him stagger beneath me, and then tense as I raked sharpened nails across his scalp. Howling in pain as I scoured deep lines in his skin, he released his hold on Holbrook and tried to throw me off. Before he was able to dislodge me, I sank my teeth into the meat of his neck, the wolf’s excitement singing in my veins.