The Wolf Fount (6 page)

R
oughly eight hours later, he sat at the bar, grimly reading everything his sources had dug up on one Morgan Shelby, which included her sealed juvenile records.

Jake was right: she was trouble with a capital T.

Arrests for prostitution, petty theft, and assault in nineteen different states. Most of the charges had been dropped, though she’d done seven months on one prostitution charge three years before. A string of cheap motel addresses were listed as prior residences. Surrendered by her mother to child protective services at age six, she’d spent ten years in the system before running away from her final foster home. There was a litany of reasons behind her removal from one foster home after another during that ten years. “Disruptive influence” seemed to be a favorite.

She was only twenty-six. “You’ve been a busy girl.”

No drug- or alcohol-related arrests. Apparently, Morgan liked a clear head during her crime sprees. Cal snorted, flipping to the final page, which informed him there was a hit out on her. She’d pissed off a drug dealer while working for an escort service less than two months ago. No info on what she’d done to piss off the dealer, but he’d be the second to know once it was discovered.

Around him, employees, all Weres, were busy readying the club for the night. He sighed, wondering where she was holed up, since the newest information was her purchase of the car, for cash, six weeks prior in Nevada. “Jake.”

“Yeah, Boss?” The other set down the case he was carrying.

“I want a tail on her the minute she leaves here.” That was assuming Morgan returned tonight, and managed to sneak away again.

“I’ll put Dougie on her.”

Cal nodded, gathering up the papers. Dougie was a twenty-year-old Were leopard with a knack for blending in. He had a forgettable, though good-natured, face. “Thanks. I’m going to get the clean-up on her started.”

“Might want to hold off until she’s Awakened. Two or three days is plenty of time for her to rack up a few more arrests.”

“She’s tried to be good for the past couple of years.” If good included just a few trips downtown for suspicion of prostitution. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re the boss.” Jake shrugged and returned to his stocking.

Cal went to the office behind the bar to make the necessary calls. Everything but her birth records, social security, and driver’s license would be erased before two weeks passed. He emailed her name and one of her mug shots to the Were geek team at headquarters. They’d do a scrub: scour the Internet and erase anything they found on her. He stared at the shot for a minute. Her hair had been quite a bit longer in it.

If necessary, he’d provide her with a completely new identity. Because of their near immortality, Weres “died” and were reborn on a regular basis, thanks to the network he’d spent centuries building.

Morgan Shelby would appear twenty-six for the rest of her life, though it was possible her height and weight might change as humans continued to evolve.

He looked early-to-mid-thirties, though he’d been twenty when changed. People had lived shorter, harder lives back then, so had tended to age faster. He’d been shorter and less muscular as well.

Cal wondered what she’d think of that, but his mind lost interest, switching track to a thought he’d been trying to ignore:
How much of last night was honest?

She’d been hooking for a living for years. From what he’d picked up over his long life, prostitutes didn’t make money if they didn’t have any acting ability.

A chuckle escaped him. It had been an extremely long time since he’d worried whether or not he’d pleased a woman. Thousands of years of learning and practice gave him some big bragging rights in the bedroom.

His long-dead wife was the cause behind those efforts. Married at fourteen–back then, people married at ages now considered not even legal for sexual consent in most civilized countries–he’d known nothing but what he’d seen around campfires, or of his parents. Homes back then hadn’t had private bedrooms either.

Sarah had been thirteen, and their wedding night a complete disaster. Cal winced, remembering it. He’d hurt her, though she’d borne it with gritted teeth and silence, because that’s what she’d been taught to do.

He much preferred now, when most women were neither afraid nor ashamed to speak up and tell a guy what did or didn’t work for them.

I don’t get off, you don’t get any
. With a laugh, he left the desk and locked her history in the wall safe.

Career prostitute or not, Morgan wasn’t shy about her expectations.

S
he’d gotten some answers, but Morgan couldn’t help but feel she’d made a huge mistake. But damn, the sex had been incredible.

Needing a distraction, she pulled out the little safe and counted the money. The car had taken the biggest bite out of her unexpected windfall, but she knew how to make money stretch, and had plenty for a while yet. After putting the safe back under the sink, Morgan checked the time. Chanteloup’s doors wouldn’t open for nearly three hours.

Go back, or no?

She sat down to think about it. Calhoun had a scar on his chest that damn sure looked as though someone had tried to stab him in the heart. The faint ripping noises she’d heard had been his claws digging into the sheets. Both were reasons enough not to return, except...

I’m one too, or will be
.
My eyes do the same freaky shit
. She really needed to learn more about what she was becoming, how much it would change her, and Calhoun was her only source of information.

There were probably rules. Morgan would need to know what they were, and she hadn’t asked him about the correct way to kill a vampire. That was important, if vampires were going to be trying to kill her on a regular basis.

Even above all that, she’d left California wanting to begin a new life. One that didn’t involve whoring, stealing, or always having to watch her back. This Awakening thing, it seemed to be a real chance to do just that.

Doesn’t it?
Morgan stared at the floor for several minutes before making a decision. Calhoun knew all the answers. If she wanted more of them, she’d have to go back to the club.

Decision made, she rose and went to select clothing for the night.

B
y six o’clock, she was sliding behind the wheel of her car, excitement fluttering through her veins at the thought of seeing Calhoun again. Dressed in sleek, black leather pants, low-heeled black boots, and a sleeveless red lace top, Morgan knew she looked good, and started the car with a smile.

Halfway to the club, worry began to set in. She’d let habit send her out the door that morning, while he showered. Maybe Calhoun wouldn’t be in the mood to see her, since she’d left without a word. With a shake of her head, Morgan kept driving. She needed to learn all she could, about him, about the Awakening, about everything.

Having never arrived at the club early before, she wasn’t expecting the crowd that filled the parking lot. Chanteloup was a popular place. Finding a spot in the far corner of the lot, Morgan exited her car and wondered how many of the people there were Weres.

A few steps had her behind a trio of young women, all babbling about what they expected from the evening. One of them mentioned Calhoun. “I heard that he’s been here all week.”

“He was all over some woman two nights ago,” another one responded. “I do mean
all over
, on the dancefloor. I think you’re out of luck.”

The first, a blonde, sniffed while adjusting her bright blue, second-skin mini-dress. “Don’t count me out so fast.”

With a roll of her eyes, Morgan increased her pace and pushed right through them. “Excuse me.”

Once clear, she heard the second woman whisper, “That’s her.”

“Now I’m really not worried,” the blonde said.

We’ll see about that
. Morgan went straight to the head of the line, and found Jerome on duty. The black man grinned. “Didn’t see you leave last night.”

“I didn’t,” she replied. “I left this morning.”

He laughed, gesturing her toward the door. She took two steps and halted, crooking her finger at him, and Jerome lowered his head. She kissed his cheek. “Thanks.”

“Welcome.” Gold briefly lined his pupils. Wondering if the same were happening to her eyes, Morgan continued to the door. While pulling it open, she looked over her shoulder and saw the trio of women she’d pushed through staring. Blowing a kiss at the blonde in the blue dress, she went inside.

T
here she is
. Cal smiled, watching Morgan head for the west bar.
Good
.

He resisted the urge to hurry downstairs, preferring to study her. She seemed to be less tense, sauntering instead of shoving her way through the early arrivals.

Just before taking a seat on a barstool, Morgan looked up and smiled. His grin widened, though he knew she couldn’t see him through the mirrored surface. Yet she had looked directly at him. Amused, Cal waited until she’d ordered a drink before leaving his suite. Noise filtered up the stairway, bringing another smile to his face.

Chanteloup had been an experiment, and quite a successful one. The location had been chosen for its proximity to the base, where they had an underground complex as their main headquarters.

He’d never believed in full secrecy, preferring to make contact with key people and build connections. Explaining the situation and providing proof had always worked, resulting in a worldwide network that had held firm for centuries. As a result, the war against the vampires wasn’t fought solely by Weres. His people had the backing of the governments of nearly every country in existence.

The vampires had romance writers and movie producers.

Cal snorted, leaving the stairs and walking around the front of the bar to sit beside Morgan. “Hey, darlin’.”

“Your DJ’s killing it tonight. Feel like dancing with me?” She polished off the beer she had, obviously expecting a positive response.

He was happy to give her one. “Sure.”

They hit the dancefloor to “Gasoline and Matches”. No passivity in Morgan this evening; she followed his lead into a quick Two-Step, laughing when he spun her. They danced through two other songs, and then “So Hott” began to boom out.

Morgan’s eyes were fairly blazing halfway through, as she ground her ass against him. One arm was up, her hand draped around the back of his neck, her other hand on his thigh. She turned her head and tilted it back in invitation.

Cal’s hands were flat across her stomach, to keep her against him, and he dipped his head to kiss her. When the song ended, he swept her off her feet and walked back to the bar. “Break time.”

With a husky laugh, she wound her arms around his neck. “Sure.”

Not a hint of her usual attitude had appeared, and Cal couldn’t keep from wondering why. Morgan seemed happy and relaxed, which he was completely enjoying. He hoped the change was because of him, and the night before. It could be. He was the Fount, and his people—the wolves—often displayed happiness when spending time in close quarters with him, especially when he was in an approving mood. Depositing her on a stool, he waved a bartender down and ordered two beers.