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She stared at me like I just sprouted horns. “Um, no, you can come back. This is a safe house for people he needs to keep out of sight.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Seems like plenty of people are in sight here?”
“Those are the people the Boss wants to be seen. Security.”
I must have displayed disbelief on my face because she bit her lip and handed me a business card with her name and number on it. “I'm Casey. Call me if you need a ride, okay?”
“Thanks, Casey. I'm Elena. I appreciate it. Don't worry. I want to figure out what happened just as much as your boss does. I'm not going far.”
Just home. But first a Mexican drive- thru. Then maybe a steakhouse. Yeah, I am definitely low on iron right now. Steak sounds better now than it has in a long time. Spinach and a side of beans might help with the low-iron thing, too. A girl has got to get her veggies. My mouth salivated as I planned my hypothetical meal.
I waved to Casey. “See you soon.”
She nodded and returned to her work.
The men playing poker barely even looked at me as I crossed the room to the rusty metal door. The one staring out the window gives me a quick appraising look followed by a nod.
“Don't go too far,” he commanded casually. “I only enjoy chasing girls on my own time, not on the company’s dime.”
I slowed as I passed and flashed him a grin. “I would've thought getting paid for it would make it more fun.”
He leaned in, eyes narrowing. “They don't let me play with ’em like I want to when I'm on the clock.”
I gulped and took a quick step away from him before he burst into a belly laugh.
“Just don't go getting yourself in trouble before the boss is done with you, kid,” he added. His brown eyes gleamed with innocent mirth, then he pointed to himself and added, “The name's Hoss, in case you need it.”
I nodded, then squeezed between him and the doorframe before anyone can change their minds or have more fun at my expense. Not that it matters. Mr. X will pick me up again whenever he wants.
Hopefully, it's before I run into Kye again.
Because a reckoning was coming. I could feel it in my bones.
5
When I exited Mr. X's lair, rusty iron and pungent creosote were the first scents to hit me, which signaled train tracks. I followed that odor right through the industrial quarter on the hunt to score the best burger in Baton Rouge. Since I had just emerged from a recovery sleep, not even the trusty ‘ol Taco Shack was going to cut it this time.
No one handled red meat like Spencer, and his namesake, while still just a food truck, harbored unbeatable post-healing meals. It didn't hurt that Spence kept feeding me despite my pack exile status.
The first time he beckoned me to his truck was after my exile. He forced a free blue cheese and bacon burger on me and said, “Your stomach has no idea that you don't shift. Neither does a dead cow.”
Spencer couldn't legally hire me as an exile, but he handed me free food for three weeks, as often as needed—until I landed my first gig. And once I built on that first finding, I got my feet under me and could purchase my own food.
It was a kindness I wouldn’t forget.
A few blocks later, I rounded the corner onto Third Street, and there sat the rusty, chipped-paint food truck with a tattered brown and gold striped awning—featuring a line that stretched half a mile long up to the maw of the service window. I jogged around the line while ignoring the glares from salivating patrons.
“Hey, Spence, will there be anything left when you're through the line?” I asked as I leaned near the window of the truck.
Spence peeked around the kid who took orders—some new guy I hadn't met yet. He might not know who I was or that, according to pack rules, he wasn't supposed to talk to me.
I glanced up at the kid, who flashed me a cheeky smile.
“So, is this the girlfriend you've been hiding from us? She doesn't look like too much trouble to me.”
I laughed as Spence smacked him lightly on the back of his skull. Emily, Spence’s girl, was a human turned werewolf from an attack. She didn’t hang with the pack as much as Spence would like. It would make sense this new kid didn’t know her.
“Tend to the customers. Elena is a friend, and none of this is your business.” He jerked his head toward me, and I walked around to the back of the truck, where he stepped out and handed me a brown paper bag that shined around the corners with grease. “You didn't get this from me, you hear?”
