Page 13 of Chased

Hate because… well, they were who they were. Wild. Feral. Rowdy.

There had been some incidents.

Surprisingly, it was the girl who spoke up. “It really wasn’t their fault,” she said. “There was a small misunderstanding over some Butterfinger bars—which were mine—and that one was unreasonably vocal.” She indicated Cisco. “He… startled me, and in my hurry to disengage, I accidently knocked over the display.”

Sanchez turned to Cisco, mentally translating her story. “You terrorized a woman over candy bars?”

“It was the last pack!”

Fuck. Me.

Hawk’s mouth twitched. “And where are these alleged Butterfingers now?”

Everyone looked around, their eyes settling on Matéo, who was quietly munching on a candy bar. He looked at the pack in his hand, and then said, “Oh. Well, they were just lying there on the floor, and I didn’t want them to get stepped on, so…”

The girl said, “Those are my Butterfingers. I got hives for those, and I’m keeping them.” She marched over and snagged the pack out of Matéo’s hand.

He was too busy staring at her chest to object.

Hawk said gently, “Ma’am? You might want to put something on.”

She looked around the room, and then down at her bra. A flush rose up her face.

Shit. Sanchez pulled off the denim shirt he was wearing over his t-shirt, and gave it to her. “Here.”

She looked startled. “Thank you.” She handed the Butterfingers to Hawk. “You’re the only one I trust with these.”

“Happy to help, ma’am.”

She shrugged herself into the shirt and buttoned it up. It hung down almost to her knees, and the rolled-up sleeves came all the way down to her hands.

Samantha said, “But what about my lavender oil? There’s nothing left!”

Sanchez said, “Just as well. That shit smells like an octogenarian whorehouse.”

“It’s artisan!”

Hawk said, “If it was an accident, insurance should cover it.”

“They’re going to raise my rates,” Samantha said. “And I took the lavender oil on consignment from a local. I can’t leave them hanging until a claim comes through. It’s several hundred dollars, and then there’s the display case…” She sounded near tears.

The girl took her Butterfingers back from Hawk and turned to Samantha. “I’m really sorry. I’ll be happy to pay for the damage, but the thing is, I might not be able to do it right away. I’m just starting a new job, and I haven’t been paid yet.”

Sanchez could feel an underlying tension in her—almost fear. He studied her with a more objective eye—the way he’d study a target. Her clothes were expensive, but she was worried about money. And she was moving here to start a new job? There weren’t any jobs in Rockhaven important enough for someone to move here for.

It didn’t make sense. But even though it had been a long time, he remembered what it was like to be broke, when every dollar counted. And she’d said her car was broken down, too. She was going to have to pay for repairs.

His wolf said, We should help her.

For fuck’s sake. Why? All she did the first time was yell at us for ruining her shirt.

I don’t know. His wolf sounded uncertain. Because she smells good?

That was the stupidest reason in the world for doing fucking anything. Even so, Sanchez found himself pulling out his wallet.

He usually carried about a thousand in cash—just in case. He peeled off four hundreds and four fifties, and then added another twenty for the stuff he’d taken to clean the girl up. And the fucking Butterfingers.

“Here,” he said to Samantha, handing over the bills. “If this doesn’t cover it all, let me know.”