AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I didn't wait long before I spotted Marvin—Kye's second-in-command, talking to the order-taking, cheeky smile kid from Spencer's truck out front.
Shit.
Not that this surprised me. Spence probably wasn't aware of the kid's snitch status, or if he was, he was covering his ass for succoring me when he wasn't supposed to admit I was alive.
But this left me in a terrible spot because I couldn't return home, and I hated the idea of bouncing back to Mr. X without determining how he'd handle my little accident with the relic. I had few safe places in the city, and now the landscape was a minefield unless I handed my precious body over to one of the two men I least desired to face.
Marvin leaned close to the food truck kid with one finger pushed into the boy's skinny chest the entire time he chastised him. I almost felt sorry for the guy. The kid had to be new in town, or at least new to the pack, and now he had been relegated to rat snitch to keep the Alpha happy.
Bet you thought you were accomplishing something important, huh, kid?
I couldn't help but smile at the crestfallen look on the snitch's face when Marvin finally stalked away under the perpetual rain cloud he traveled under. It was stormier than usual, though, which lent me hope.
The kid paced for another minute, compulsively checking his phone every few seconds before finally wandering back toward my apartment. He was probably assigned guard duty for failing to produce the real deal instead of a rumor.
I remembered picking up some of the shit assignments. The good old days.
I lingered inside the bodega. No one cared if I stashed my raggedy ass here. The grocery store patrons minded their business, and I did not need to walk into a pack patrol.
It wasn't long ago that I would walk patrol in the city at night with Kye, searching for unsanctioned shifters—the newly furry and still out of control. Half the time, we'd make love under the stars, relishing our connection as fated mates, destined to be together forever.
Fucking lies.
I pressed my hand to the steady thrum of magic in my chest and the scar around my heart, leftover from the sundering. When the pack finally tired of waiting for me to experience my first full moon, I didn't simply walk away from the only family I could remember.
Oh no. There was a whole ritual to sever my connection to Kye, my mate, that left me raw and broken, nearly shattered, and mentally destroyed. I was dragged into the swamp, barely able to breathe. I watched Kye, who was in as much pain as me, twist away to abandon me to my fate. I was not only an inconvenient reminder of the wolf who failed to emerge but also the queen bitch who failed to earn a crown. The pack helped Kye to heal, but I was alone. He mated a new bitch, but I had no one. My scar remained while he recovered. This was a special hell I lived in, but most days, I kept busy enough not to ponder it too much. Seeking and surviving were my way of life now.
I entered the convenience store, and after waiting for fifteen minutes with the seemingly bipolar cat, I grabbed a strawberry shortcake ice cream bar from the freezer case and a cold bottle of water from the fridge. I headed up to the front to pay. The tiny woman behind the glass said. “I wondered what you were hiding from back there.” She rang me up and tossed a thin, silver cylinder onto the counter through the slot. “It's a whistle, in case that ugly mug shows up to harass you again.”
I pocketed the whistle and grabbed my snacks. I didn't argue and accepted the kindness. I paid the total, nodded, and waved as I glanced out the front door at the street. I didn't spot any familiar wolves out there, and the street flowed with the hustlers and the tourists and townies—business as usual. So I exited the store and stepped onto the street.
But even with all the time I had to think about what to do next, I couldn't seem to point my feet in the direction I needed to go. With a sigh, I finally headed back the way I started the day, to the warehouse and office building where Mr. X would probably be less pissed off with me than the pack, or at least less likely to kill me to get what he wants.
As I approached, the warehouse was the same windowless two-story height as the others in the dilapidated industrial park. Though the buildings here were of various lengths, they all had the same oblong, boxy, nondescript appearance. I understood why Mr. X would keep his headquarters here. The comings and goings of the gang in an industrial area would not attract attention. The flat layout of the land made it easier to keep watch. I wouldn't be surprised if he had security cameras set up throughout the area. As an added touch, he didn't paint over the graffiti on the outside walls, so the building blended in with the others. The only tell was the cars outside Mr. X's safe house were worth anywhere from ten-to-thirty thousand more than those parked in front of the neighboring buildings.
That wasn’t suspicious at all, was it?
No, you couldn't tell that the interior of Mr. X's building was an entirely different, thoroughly renovated world.
I didn't even make it to the door before the door guard from earlier fell into step with me. “Hey, Hoss. I told you I'd be right back.”
He snorted. “Couldn't possibly have anything to do with the entire Baton Rouge wolf-pack on the lookout for you right now, would it? Word on the street is that you're worth fifteen thousand, but only if taken alive.”
“That it?” I frowned up at him, meeting his cheerful gaze. “Because that number doesn't feel very high. It's an insult, really.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “It's not a lot. But lots of people are out searching for you now who might not have taken the job if they had to kill you to collect.”
“Murder's a line that you crooks don't want to cross too often, huh?” Even as I spoke, I knew that was not true. Murder happens all the time in the bayou—and mostly by the aforementioned crooks.
Hoss halted and grabbed my arm, making me stop short with him. “The only thing that puts the line there is risk of getting caught. Don't get cocky, because then I have to get involved. And me? I don't like confrontation too much.”
I scowled down at his arm. “Yeah, really seems like you don't like confrontation.”
He released my arm. “I don't. You can believe me or not. Just keep low, huh?”
“Good advice, because I was thinking that stripping and streaking through the streets screaming my ex's name is a fun idea,” I drawled, tugging on the belt loops of my pants, “but just for you, I'll go inside and wait to speak with the boss.”
“You're cute, but you're also kind of a brat. Oh, and you might want to try a new hairstyle, that one sticks out a bit. Even under the cap.” He opened the door to the building and waved me in.
