Page 4

Goddess, please let us get there before the car dies.

Every new song was a tick mark as he counted down the miles. Twenty more songs. Sixteen.

The Ford’s steering column started to rattle and vibrate beneath his hands, and Logan cut his speed by another five miles an hour, but they were in no man’s land now and just had to reach pack lands on the other side before using somebody’s phone would be safe. He had to turn the heat down too, but Wren had plenty of blankets in the back to keep them warm.

Thirteen more songs.

Golden rays streamed out between tree branches as he bounced over ruts left from the last heavy rain. The roads here were dirt instead of pavement, meaning Logan was forced to slow down even more. If this was what all the roads were like out here, his baby was going in a garage, and he was getting something with four-wheel drive ‘cause holy shit.

At least Wren was still sleeping, because Logan had to turn the music up louder to drown out the sound of his poor engine.

Ten more songs.

There was no sign of anything down this fucking road.

According to Brooks’ map, he was still going in the right direction. Any sane person would have turned back by now unless they knew to keep on going. He’d trust the map. Every twist and turn had lined up so far.

Hell, every shed of information Brooks had given him over the years had turned out to be accurate too. The wolf had never left Logan feeling like he couldn’t trust him, so they bounced along, Nirvana and the whining engine providing the score for the last leg of the trip.

Five more songs.

Three.

He was having to press harder on the gas just to keep that old Ford moving.

Rounding a bend, Logan spotted a sign with a wolf howling in front of a red moon with devil horns, Howling Devil’s Vehicle Repair in bright crimson letters above and beneath the moon.

Thank you, Goddess.

It took effort to turn into the driveway, which meant something was fucked with his steering, but he could safely call Brooks now and ask for help, and that was the only thing that mattered.

That and figuring out what was wrong with his car and how much it was going to cost him to get her repaired.

Damnit.

He needed an address and a fucking bank account. The sooner he had access to his funds again, the less stressed he’d be. No way the place was open yet, so he reclined his seat, more than ready for a power nap. With any luck, Wren would sleep until someone showed up.

He was asking for a lot of luck this week.

At some point, he was going to be all out of favors.

Chapter Two

(Rusty)

“Sweet ride, what the fluff did you do to her?”

“Fluff? I like that. Thanks for not swearing in front of the k-i-d.”

“I know how to spell, kid, Dad,” the child said, rolling their eyes.

Rusty could see where they got it from too, as the dad groaned, rolled his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose too.

“I’m not sure,” the frustrated wolf grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

His midnight hair was worn long and loose, though not nearly as long as Roark’s. Thinking about his mate was distracting, which was how he’d wound up smacking his knuckles with a wrench less than seven minutes after he’d signed in.

Then this guy had rolled up, parked and reclined his seat like he was about to get comfy and take a nap right there in the parking lot.