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“She had no kid with her,” I tell him, and he looks at me, his lips pulling back over his teeth.
“Valen?” he growls. If he were anyone else, I would knock him on his ass for taking that tone with me. He's lucky he's my best friend, or he would be lying unconscious on the floor.
“Grab my keys; I didn't know she had a fucking kid. I never would have kicked her out last night if I had known,” I tell him.
“Are you fucking serious? It was pouring rain,” Marcus snaps at me.
I suddenly feel terrible as the faint memories come back. I pray I didn't hurt her; I can’t totally remember. My memory is hazy, and I am sure I am still pretty intoxicated with the way the ground still keeps moving as I walk.
The woman in the bed stirs, sitting up and rubbing her eyes before running a hand through her hair. I roll my eyes at her while grabbing some shorts and a shirt from my closet.
“Get your shit and get out,” I snap at her, scooping up her dress and tossing it at her.
“Baby, what's got into–”
“Don't baby me, get the fuck out of my bed and packhouse,” I snap at her. Fuck me, why they gotta be such cling-ons? I make a mental note to avoid redheads. She isn’t one of my pack members. Goddess knows where I picked her up from.
“Out, now!” I yell at her, forcing my Alpha aura over her. She jumps up, tugging the dress over her head before grabbing her shoes. On her way out the door, she shoulder-shoves Marcus; I grab my keys off the dresser. I hope I didn't destroy my car again driving home drunk.
“You're not driving; you still look half tanked. Hurry up, maybe she went back to her car,” Marcus says. I feel guilty as shit, knowing I kicked the girl out in the rain with a baby. If Marcus brought her here, she must have been in dire straits because Marcus never brings anyone to the packhouse.
“What did you say her name was again?” I ask, wondering why he was so interested in this rogue.
“Everly. She smelled familiar…” he says thoughtfully. “And I can officially say you aren't the only freak with eyes like your father.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her son, he had the same eyes as you—freaky as fuck. Could almost pass him off to be your son,” he chuckles.
I shove my feet in my shoes, growling at his words. That's the last thing I need: an illegitimate child. It would be another thing for my father to breathe down my neck about.
“What? You never know, you have a new girl on your arm every night. You probably have fifty kids you're unaware of,” Marcus laughs.
“How old is she?”
“Dunno, but I could tell she hadn't shifted yet, so must be young,” he says with a shrug.
“Well, not mine then; I won't go near jail bait.”
“She wasn't that young, probably eighteen. Well, nearly, seeing as she hadn't shifted,” he says.
“Did she say what pack she's from?”
“Nope.”
“Well, come on, let's see if we can find her. Maybe they might have room at one of the hostels to put her in for a few weeks.”
They really need to get rid of that law. We have a few of what the other packs would call rogue whores in our pack—disgusting how the other packs just turn their backs on them.
I sit in the passenger seat of Marcus's car, the motion making my stomach turn as I press my head against the window. I must have nodded off because I wake up to Marcus shaking my shoulder. Looking up, we're pulling into the train station on no-man's land.
“That's her car,” Marcus says, pointing to a rundown wagon.
“Well, go on, see if your damsel in distress wants to be saved,” I tell him, waving him off. It's pretty overcast today; the storm last night was massive, giant puddles in the parking lot have ducks swimming around in them, making my guilt worse knowing I forced a woman and baby out in this weather. He looks in the windows, and I sigh, tossing the door open and walking over to him.
“She isn’t here; I wonder where she went?” he says, looking around before walking off toward the train station. “I will see if the guards are on and if they've seen her,'' he sighs out over his shoulder.
I peer in the windows of the busted-up wagon. The thing looks like a death trap. The car's rear was like a mini grocery department of baby items—tins of formula and diapers—canned food, a quilt, and a pillow. Hardly any personal items, yet I can see a photo album jammed between the passenger and driver's seat.
