Werewolves in Love 3: Ready to Run (8 page)

“They will. Probably already have.”

“I can’t believe he’d do that to me. I knew he didn’t love me—he treated me like shit—but to set me up with that…” She shuddered. “And his
own mother
? I mean, as nasty as he was, I still wouldn’t have— Wait. What about Jasper? You think Jasper’s dead too?”

“Yep.”

She nodded to herself. “Yeah, I bet he is. Jasper just cooked the stuff. Anyone can do that. Actually, anyone could do what Wayne did too. They wouldn’t really need him.”

“What did your grandmother do?”

“All the business stuff—where to sell it, how to move it, how much to charge, all that. Wayne managed the dealers and beat up the people who didn’t pay. He and Grandma fought all the time.”

“About what?”

“Everything. He hated the way she controlled the business, and she didn’t like the way he blew money on sinful stuff.” She grinned tipsily. “Because dealing meth is business, but gamblin’ and drinkin’ and runnin’ ’round with Shreveport hookers—that’s bad.”

“
I
can’t believe your grandmother did the whole church and bake sale thing, then went home and ran the biggest meth op in the ArkLaTex area.”

“You don’t know what it’s like to live in a real small town. People are good at ignoring what they don’t want to know about.” She took another long swig of beer. “It’s like…you have to see the same handful of people every day of your life, so everyone just instinctively agrees to pretend everything is the way they want it to be, and no one really talks about it. I mean, it’s not like everybody didn’t know my grandmother was the Redneck Drug Queen of East Texas.”

He choked on his beer, and she laughed too.

“Seriously. There’s no way anyone didn’t know what Jasper was doing back in those woods. But Grandma taught Sunday School for sixty years and no one would
dream
of talking bad about sweet old Mrs. Hedges. I think if anyone ever said
‘Hey, y’all ever notice Miss Helen’s boy is running a meth lab down by the lake?’
all their heads would’ve exploded.”

He laughed again. “Shit. I’m glad I grew up in the big city.”

“Yeah, well, I think I might like living in one.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe. Marshall was one thing, but Houston, God…”

He squeezed her hand. “Hey. It’s gonna be fine. You can stay at my place for as long as you need. And I promise, Monday morning, I’ll make some phone calls and we’ll get your car towed down to my place.”

“Seriously? Do you think I’ll be able to drive in Houston? I keep thinking about the freeways, and all those cars, and it scares me.”

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll teach you the freeways. You’re plenty tough enough.”

“I don’t know about that.” A big yawn overtook her before she had a chance to cover her mouth.

“Come on, tough girl. Time for bed.”

Chapter Five

Sara had confessed she was afraid to stay by herself, so he’d gotten a room with two double beds.

Just last night, they’d been all over each other. Just a few minutes ago, at the diner, they’d started connecting again. But as soon as they were back at the motel, with the two double beds dominating the room, they were instantly awkward, looking everywhere but at each other, keeping their distance, unable to think of anything to say.

He offered her the first shower. She practically ran to the bathroom, closing the door behind her with an audible sigh of relief.

He flopped down on a bed and called Nick, who answered on the first ring.

“B, listen,” said his Alpha by way of hello. “First off, I left a present in your bank account. You done good. Second. Why’d you leave before the Feds showed up? I’ve been on the phone with them for hours—they’re going nuts to talk to you.”

So Bryan told him everything, and Nick had plenty to say about it.

When he got off the phone an hour later, Sara was still in the shower. He stretched out and laced his hands behind his head, thinking about what Nick had said and wondering if a motel this size could run out of hot water.

“What are you going to do with her?”
Nick had asked him.

He’d told her she could stay at his place, but the idea of her actually living there, even for a short time, scared him to death. He’d never contemplated her being a part of his real life.

He’d be responsible for her in Houston, at least for a while. She didn’t know a soul. She needed a job, a place to live. She had to start a whole new life, and it meant a big disruption in his.

“Since when do you go for fae girls?”

He didn’t. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Sara didn’t behave like a typical fae female. She wasn’t flighty, impulsive, dramatic, narcissistic, emotionally unstable, trouble with a capital
T
—all the things some guys found sexy, but Bryan found fucking annoying. None of that meant she was suitable long term.

He didn’t like thinking that way, but at least it took his mind off the perverse and irrational part of him that loved the idea of having her around on a day to day basis.

How long could a female stay in the shower?

He put his ear to the door, but all he heard was running water. He should’ve been able to hear her moving around in the tub.

So he knocked.

“Sara?”

No answer. No sound of a body moving, fingers in hair, picking up soap, arm brushing the shower curtain, nothing.

Had she passed out? Was she drowning?

Way to go, dumbass. Leave the drunk chick in the shower all by herself.

“Sara?” he called a little louder. When he still got no answer, he banged on the door a couple times. “Sara! Answer me!” Jiggling the doorknob, he saw it wasn’t locked and pounded on the door one more time. “Sara, answer me or I’m coming in.”

He waited one more second, then barged in.

She didn’t look up when he jerked the shower curtain aside. With her arms wrapped around her legs and her head on her knees, she sat huddled and motionless at the end of the tub, barely out of range of the ice cold water pouring from the shower. She was shivering, whether from cold or shock he couldn’t tell.

He leaned in to turn off the water, then grabbed a thin towel and dropped to his knees beside the tub. “Sara? Come on, time to get out.”

She still didn’t answer. As he was deciding she’d gone truly catatonic this time, she turned her face to him. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks splotchy. The look of exhausted misery on her sweet face squeezed his heart.

“There’s something wrong with me,” she whispered abjectly.

“You need a doctor? I’ll find an emergency room. Come on.” He took her arms to pull her up, but she didn’t move.

“No,” she protested weakly, taking a gulp of air and shuddering. “Not like that. Not— I mean— I’m not sad.”

“What?” Tending to a drunk, naked, traumatized fae chick in the bathroom of a cheap motel was way outside his skill set.

“I’m scared, and I’m worried, and— And— And—” she took a few more gulps of air to quell the hiccups. “And I miss my friends, but— But I’m not sad. About my family. They’re all dead, and I don’t feel sad. I just— I just—” Her delicate features crumpled into a pained grimace as she wailed, “I just keep thinking about how I’m finally free and they can’t do anything to scare me anymore and I don’t have to worry about people finding out, and I can’t even feel sorry for an old woman who got
murdered!
What kind of monster am I?”

“Oh shit,” he muttered, smoothing the wet hair back from her face. He’d never felt dumber or more useless in his life. “Come on now, you can’t stay in here.”

This time, when he took her arm and pulled her up, she didn’t fight him. She gave a little gasp when he swung her up and over the side of the tub to set her on her feet, but she stood quietly, head bowed, as he briskly dried her off. Then he pulled her into a fierce embrace, laying his head against her wet, fragrant hair.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said gruffly. “There was something wrong with them. They didn’t love you. They used you and they hurt you. Maybe your grandmother didn’t deserve to be murdered, but she doesn’t deserve to be missed, either. Neither do your asshole uncles.” He kissed the top of her head. “Okay. Let’s get you dressed and in bed.”

Taking her hand, he led her out of the bathroom. He pulled out the Walmart shopping bags but she took them from him. She waved him away as she pulled on panties and a T-shirt and pajama pants. Then she climbed into the far bed, turned her back to the bathroom and pulled the covers up to her neck. He stood between the two beds, feeling slightly dumber and even more useless.

“I’m gonna go take a shower now, okay?”

“Okay,” she said in a voice almost too small to hear.

He hesitated. “If you need anything, you’ll come get me?”

She nodded once. With a sigh, he went to take his shower. Surprisingly, he had plenty of hot water.

When he’d dried off, wrapped a towel around his waist and brushed his teeth, he went back to the room and turned off the lamps. Then he stood there like a dumbass again, wondering if he should put on pants. He normally slept naked, but he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. He looked over at her, huddled in the middle of the double bed. Was she even— Yeah, she was still awake. Her breathing was too shallow, too irregular for sleep.

“Sara?”

“What?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t sound okay. He pulled on some boxers and slid under the covers behind her, pulling her back until her head was tucked under his chin. She smelled fresh and girly.

After a few minutes, she relaxed against him. After a few more minutes, her hand crept up to cover his, lying against her ribs beneath her breast. Her butt settled into his lower stomach.

I won’t get a hard-on. I won’t get a hard-on. She’ll think I’m an animal, oh fuck, don’t let me get a hard-on.

“I won’t be like this tomorrow.”

I won’t get a—
“Huh? What’d you say?”

She sniffed softly. “I said I won’t be like this tomorrow.” He almost felt her gritting her teeth as she said, “I’m not weak.”

He couldn’t help his snort of laughter. “No shit
.
”

“You won’t need to take care of me. I have the Tupperware. So— So I don’t have to stay with you very long. I won’t get in your way.”

He squeezed her tight. “Shh. Stop it. Go to sleep. You won’t be in my way.”

Long after she dropped off, he lay in the dark, feeling her breathe in his arms, hoping what he’d said was true.

She was in the shower the next morning, eyes closed and face turned up, blessed hot water blasting away the shock and anxiety of the night before, when she felt a rush of cold air. She opened her eyes, turned and screamed.

“
What?
” yelled Bryan.

“Close the curtain!” she squealed.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it
look
like I’m doing? I’m taking a shower! Close the curtain!” She shouldn’t be embarrassed—he saw all of her last night—but this morning it felt different. And she was freezing.

“I woke up, you weren’t there, I heard the shower, I thought you’d freaked out again!”

“Well, I didn’t! I just needed a shower.”

“How could you get dirty while you
slept
?”

“I like showers, okay? They— They make me feel better, help me clear my head.” Plus, when she’d seen what she looked like this morning, after sleeping on wet hair…but she wasn’t about to explain that. “Would you
please
close the shower curtain?”

Muttering something about crazy fae chicks, he left her in peace.

An hour later, they were on their way.

Houston, Texas shimmered like a mirage, a vision in the distance that never got any larger no matter how long they drove toward it. Twice she thought they’d hit the outskirts, only to see signs proclaiming the city limits of Kingwood and then Humble. The term
urban sprawl
took on a terrifyingly concrete meaning.

They roared past the Intercontinental Airport. As the planes flew overhead, she counted more in ten minutes than she’d seen in her life.

When at last they were in Houston, her heart lodged in her throat as she realized it was bigger, and louder, and denser, and taller and had a hell of a lot more cars and people than any amount of time spent with television and the Internet could convey to a girl raised in a tiny town in the armpit of northeast Texas.

Bryan Keeton was insane to think she’d ever learn to drive in this place.

They drove under overpasses and over streets and beneath countless other freeways winding like one long, tangled ribbon through and around the city. Eventually she saw signs for Downtown. At last they were off the freeway and onto Rusk Street, where Bryan’s condo was located, and she thought how weird it was that they could go from Grandma’s front door to his with two left turns and a right.

She had a crick in her neck from twisting it left, right and up, taking in the spectacle around her. Condos, restaurants, shops and parking lots crowded together, a block of apartments followed by a block of car repair shops followed by two blocks of office buildings, then more apartments. She had to grab hold of Bryan’s shirt when a wave of vertigo hit her as she gazed straight up at the buildings into the sky. She’d been staring at them since she’d first seen them from a distance, way back by the airport.

If the streets had this many cars on a Saturday afternoon, what in God’s name did rush hour look like?

The bike slowed as they approached a row of identical three-story condos. Made of red brick, each had a black wrought iron balcony on the top story.

The garage door in the middle unit rolled up, and they were home.

Her almond-shaped eyes were as round and large as silver dollars as he led her onto the balcony off his bedroom. She stood at the railing and gazed without saying a word.

Bryan suddenly realized how profound the culture shock was going to be. Reading about the big city wasn’t the same thing as living in it. And reading about werewolves and shifters and fae, even looking at videos on the Web and eavesdropping in chatrooms, wasn’t the same as living among them. He couldn’t have brought her here and said,
“Here you go, have a nice life.”
He was responsible for her.