Werewolves in Love 3: Ready to Run (4 page)

Wendy heaved a huge sigh and said in a singsong voice, “Marshall, Marshall, Marshall!”

Sara started cracking up again.

“Honestly, girl, what am I gonna do with you? You’d pass up a chance to run off with a guy like that to go to college? There’s colleges everywhere! And you’re young—you don’t have to go
right now.
”

“You just said I’m not gonna be twenty-two forever.”

“Yeah, but you can go to college at any age. Your bod’s got an expiration date.”

“Oh, stop.”

Finished with her checkout, she bussed the recently departed family’s table and came back to wait for Wendy, who looked up and said, “You know, they allow werewolves in Marshall.”

“They don’t
allow
werewolves. Werewolves live there, which is completely normal to most people, Wendy. Luxor is weird, not Marshall.” Whenever she visited the city, she kept an eye out for shifters, which was just stupid. A human couldn’t recognize one when he was in human form, and it wasn’t like they went running around in broad daylight in their animal forms, so if she’d ever met one, she didn’t know about it.

“Their kids go to public school and everything,” Wendy continued. “There might be some at the college.”

“So? It’s the fucking twenty-first century.”

Wendy sat back and blinked at Sara, who rarely used hard profanity.

“Seriously, Wendy. You’re always talking about moving to Houston. They have the second largest pack in the country. Do we have to think shifters and fae are creatures of the Devil just because our parents and grandparents did?”

“So, what, now you’re not an Apocalyptic?”

Sara shrugged, trying to appear casual. “Apocalyptic isn’t synonymous with Christian.” She was probably the only person in Luxor who thought so.

“Oh.
Synonymous
. Listen to Miss Intellectual.”

“All I’m saying—”

“Oh, fuck hell.”

“Hey!” Sara flushed. She’d never told her cousin she didn’t share the religious beliefs of everyone else in town. In Luxor, you’d be better off admitting you were gay.

“What? Oh, no, not you, sweetie. I mean, I hate to think of you hanging around werewolves—they scare the bejesus out of me. But I just remembered I’m working the breakfast shift tomorrow.”

Sara laughed a little self-consciously. “Oh. No, no you’re not. I took it for you so you could stay out with Tucker tonight, remember?”

“Oh yeah!” Wendy said with a grin. “God, what would I
do
without you and your memory? Okay, I’m out of here. Shit, there’s Wayne.” She dropped a kiss on Sara’s forehead and whispered, “Remember, two more months. And quit talking about werewolves, or Aunt Helen will lock you up.”

A big ball of lead settled in her stomach as Wayne slid his sweaty bulk into the spot Wendy had vacated. Her heart sank as he pushed a deep rectangular Tupperware container across the table to her.

“What’s that?”

“Food for Mama. She’s been sick all week, and she’s out of everything. You need to take her this.”

The café was full now and Wayne was speaking loudly, as he usually did.

Susan stopped by their booth, completely ignoring Sara, who would’ve laughed if she wasn’t feeling so ill all of a sudden. “Wayne, did I hear you say Miss Helen is sick? I wondered why we didn’t see her at Wednesday night service. We missed her banana nut bread. Can I get you a beer?”

Wayne’s smile was open and friendly, the fat apples of his cheeks forcing his eyes into a squint. “No thanks, Susan. I was just asking Sara Mae here if she’d take some food out to her grandmother this evening.”

He knew how she loathed her full name.

“Well, Wayne, you tell your mama I said hi, and we hope to see her at church this weekend.”

“I sure will, Susan, thank you.”

As Susan walked away, Sara started to protest, even though she knew it was pointless. She’d end up doing what he told her. She always did.

“Wayne, I have plans.”

“Your grandmother needs this by five o’clock.”

“It’s almost four-thirty!”

“It’s a twenty minute drive, honey. You’ve got plenty of time.” He smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Tomlinson as they walked past to sit down two booths away.

Anger flared inside her. “Damn it, Wayne,” she whispered furiously, “I have a life. I have things I need to do, and I have a chemistry test on Monday. Why can’t
you
go out to Grandma’s house?”

He reached across the table to put a hand on her arm, like Wendy had done earlier, but one squeeze made the tears pool in her eyes. He knew she wouldn’t cry out. She had the physical strength to kick his ass, but he knew she’d never do that, either.

His cherubic smile didn’t falter, and he lowered his voice so no one else could hear him as he said, “You’ll get your ass out to my mother’s house by five o’clock tonight, girl, and I’m not gonna tell you again, you hear me?”

She didn’t answer, gritting her teeth against the pain of his grip.

“I know you’ve been seeing that new pretty boy at JP’s. How’d you like it if I had a little talk with him about you? Matter of fact, how’d you like it if I talked to Wendy?”

Sara swallowed the tears and closed her eyes. The son of a bitch had been threatening to tell her secret ever since Grandma had figured out what she was. It wasn’t an idle threat. He’d ruin her, and enjoy doing it, if she ever defied him. Once she was out of Luxor, she didn’t give a damn what people knew about her, but she couldn’t handle it while she still lived here. She might not even be safe if people knew.

So she ran errands for Wayne when he told her to. She couldn’t forget anyone she’d met or anything she’d heard, of course, but she could ignore it. She was good at ignoring.

He squeezed her arm even harder. That would make a nice purple bruise on her pasty white skin.

“Well? Don’t just sit there looking at me, you little freak. Say ‘
yes sir
’ and then get the fuck out of here.”

Either he was on something tonight or someone had spooked him good. Maybe he’d had another come to Jesus meeting with Grandma. Whatever it was, the malice in Wayne’s eyes, the scowl on his sweaty red face, told her she didn’t have a choice. When he was like this, he might do anything. She jerked her arm. He let her go. She grabbed the Tupperware and stalked out of the restaurant without a word to anyone.

Her cell phone rang as she was putting the top down. She glanced at the number—Nash. She couldn’t answer it; she was so furious and miserable right now that if she heard his voice, she’d start crying, and she didn’t want him to remember her as weak and weepy. Angrily wiping the tears from her eyes, she pulled out of the parking lot.

Bryan Keeton pulled into the parking lot of Café Caddo a little before five. Sara wasn’t answering her phone. He hoped he hadn’t missed her.

The hostess, a high school girl whose name he couldn’t remember, greeted him as he walked in.

“Hey there, Nash! How you doing tonight?”

He’d always liked his cousin’s name, but now he was sick of it and couldn’t wait to drop the pseudonym.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he replied with an insincere grin, deliberately ignoring the signals she was flashing and the sex pheromones she was shedding. Even if he weren’t on an assignment, he didn’t mess with jailbait. “Sara still here?”

“No, I’m sorry.” No, she wasn’t. “Sara left about fifteen minutes ago. Was she expecting you?”

“No. I’m supposed to see her later, but I was thinking I’d buy her dinner so she wouldn’t have to cook.”

“Well, you just missed her. Want to stick around for dinner?”

“Nah. I think I’ll head over to her house.”

“Oh, she’s not there.”

“How do you know?”

“’Cause her Uncle Wayne came in a little while ago with some food for Miss Helen. That’s her grandma.”

Bryan nodded. He knew exactly who Miss Helen was, and he didn’t like where this was going. “And?”

“The poor thing’s sick again, and Wayne told Sara she needed to take her some food.”

“What do you mean, sick again?”

“Well, she
is
eighty years old or something like that. She gets sick a lot and Sara has to take her food and medicine.”

“I see.” He should have been excited, but instead it felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach.

“Sara didn’t seem real happy about it.” The female made a pouty frown of disapproval and shook her head with an expression of concern so obviously fake Bryan would’ve known she was acting even if he hadn’t smelled the pheromones. “I know it’s hard for Sara, working full-time and going to school, and it’s not easy driving out there all the time, but Miss Helen raised her, after all, and we have to take care of our old folks. Sometimes I think Sara acts like she doesn’t care what—”

“I gotta go.”

He heard her bitching about his rudeness as he climbed on his motorcycle and strapped on his helmet. He blocked her voice out as he started the bike and then sat there, trying to decide what to do next.

Chapter Three

The autumn breeze in her hair and on her face soothed her. She spent a lot of nights driving around with the top down, letting the wind blow her stress away. The 2001 candy apple red Mazda Miata was her joy and treasure. She knew it was sinful to attach such importance to a material object, but it meant so much. It was a symbol, both of what she’d accomplished and what she still had left to do. It would be paid off in November, right before she drove it to Marshall.

If she weren’t such a coward, she would’ve left Luxor years ago. Wayne couldn’t have found her in Houston or Austin or some other large city, but the idea of picking up and moving someplace she’d never been before terrified her. Marshall was familiar, and it was close enough to keep in touch with Wendy, and Grandma had finally agreed to turn her loose after years of refusing to let her go.

“Don’t you try to leave town without telling me, Sara Mae. I’d have to send Wayne after you.”

“Grandma, please, I would never talk about the business. You have to believe me.”

“I’m not just talking about the business, girl. I’m talking about sin. Luxor is a righteous town, but the world out there is wicked. Look at what happened to your mama. It’s her fault you’ve got the Devil in you.”

Righteousness wasn’t a virtue Sara associated with her hometown. Bigotry, hypocrisy and violence, yes. Righteousness, no.

Sara’s mother had moved away from Luxor when she was a teenager, only to end up getting pregnant and running back home. Which was why Sara had put herself on the Pill at seventeen—Grandma would have liked to die if she knew her granddaughter hadn’t been a virgin in a while.

Sara wasn’t sure how much the old woman actually cared about her. Helen Hedges was not the maternal type. But Wayne had convinced his mother they couldn’t trust her. Wayne liked having an unpaid messenger at his beck and call. Plus, he was an evil son of a bitch and enjoyed making her life hell. He hadn’t been happy when, for reasons known only to her and God, Grandma had changed her mind one day and told Sara she could go to Marshall with her blessings.

Would Nash be back in Houston by then, or would he have moved on?

When she thought about him, she felt a tightness in her throat and around her heart. She’d never expected to fall like this. Maybe her feelings for Nash were partly a reaction to the escape he might have represented. He’d told her a little about his life in Houston, his time in the Marines and all the places he’d been around the world.

A few times she’d caught herself imagining a life with him—a house in Katy or Pearland or some other suburb of Houston she’d spent hours furtively researching on the Internet, holed up in her apartment on her laptop like she was watching porn or something.

As she turned onto the gravel road that wound its way to Grandma’s front door, she smiled to think of how her high school teachers would react if they knew her plans.

“Sara! Houston is full of fae and shapeshifters!”

“Damn straight!”
she’d reply.

In her dreams.

The hundred-year-old house sat in a clearing on the edge of Lake Caddo. Uncle Jasper’s trailer hugged the lakeshore about a mile and a half to the south, shielded from sight by pine trees and canopied by the dripping cypresses that loomed out of the swampy lake.

The nearest house was more than five miles away, and the din of traffic on Highway 43 couldn’t penetrate the dense trees. Still, the woods and the swamp were noisy at nightfall, crickets, frogs and owls all competing to be heard. Something slid into the lake with a soft splash. She thought of Nash again, who was probably still on an airboat out there.

She smelled no acrid, Drano-like scent on the breeze, which meant Jasper wasn’t cooking. When she slammed the car door shut, a startled deer sprang past her and disappeared into the woods. She peeked around the side of the house, where Grandma and Jasper parked their cars. Both were there.

She knocked, heard no answer, and let herself in. Grandma never locked the front door. Few people ever made it out here. Of those who did, none would dare steal anything from Helen Hedges.

“Grandma?” She set the Tupperware container on the coffee table.

“Grandma?” she called again, a little louder.

Relieved when she didn’t hear anything, she almost laughed out loud. Grandma was out in the woods somewhere, and there was no sign of Jasper. Her mission accomplished, she was free to go. Even if Nash had something bad to tell her tonight, it had to be better than hanging around here.

She paused with her hand on the doorknob.

What if Grandma had something she needed Sara to do? What if she were really sick and needed medicine? She was a mean old bitch, but Sara wouldn’t leave an eighty-three-year-old woman to suffer.

Besides, what if the mean old bitch got pissed at her for running off without saying hi and decided she couldn’t move to Marshall after all?

With a heavy sigh, she tiptoed back to the master bedroom.

“Grandma?”

The sight that greeted her when she turned on the light was so bizarre she just stood there blinking.

Grandma, clad in the thick flannel nightgown she wore year-round, lay on her back on the same side of the bed she always slept on, eyes closed as if in sleep. But somehow Sara would’ve known she wasn’t sleeping, even if there hadn’t been a large, handsome man in an expensive-looking suit sitting in the middle of the bed next to her. He reclined against the headboard with his hands behind his head, legs stretched out. His smile was violent.