Chapter 8
For seven weeks, Jake had visited Alicia in her dreams while she was kept on the run, sure Mario’s men were searching for her. But her dreams were so real, as if Jake was coming to her in the middle of the night and overwhelming her with deeply pleasurable emotions as she ravished him back.
She couldn’t put it off any longer. Having remained human for a whole week without one inkling of an urge to shape-shift, the second time she’d had such a shift-free week, Alicia had made up her mind. She’d finally tracked down Mario Constantino and Danny Massaro once more, and foregoing her bounty hunter’s fee, she had called the police and told them where to find the bail-skippers. Tackling them alone would be too dangerous. And with the shape-shifting problems she was having, her situation was even more precarious.
With her life turned upside down by this strange being that she’d become, nothing mattered but trying to get her untenable condition under control. Although she thought maybe the condition had gone away since she hadn’t had another episode of changing into the wolf for a whole glorious week, twice now. She hoped that maybe it truly was some weird virus that had finally run its course. Still, the worry lurked in her bones that at any moment she might once again become a wolf through no choice of her own.
But she had to take care of one more thing before she disappeared for good.
She drove to Breckenridge, intending to go to the art gallery to see if anyone could give her information on where Jake lived or just send word to him to let him know she was all right. She couldn’t see him any further. Not now that she was whatever she was. She had to vanish from Colorado altogether. Yet the dreams wouldn’t allow her to let him go.
Nursing a cold cup of brewed tea that had been hot at first, she sat in the restaurant across the street from the art gallery, waiting until a tourist busload of visitors filed out of the gallery, her thoughts centered on Jake’s first kiss at this very table after he had rescued her from one of Mario’s men. Gentle and unassuming, his kiss had sparked a desire for him that she couldn’t have quashed even if she’d wanted to. She thought back on ice skating with him, making love with him in the woods. She’d never been so adventurous or uninhibited with a man. Nor enjoyed being with one as much as she had with him.
Her nighttime dreams of Jake had made her believe she was being punished for running away without a word and not telling him she was all right. She was safe, at least as safe as she could be, with this wolf business that plagued her now… and Mario’s men tailing her from time to time. At least that’s who she thought had been following her. Although having found “bugs” on her car four times in the early days while she tried to track down Mario, she thought maybe someone else was on her trail.
But Mario had said Jake would be dead if he continued to tag along with her, and she knew that hadn’t been idle bullying. Mario’s kind didn’t make pointless threats. Hopefully, he was behind bars again. She’d had the notion that she might get in touch with Jake after Mario and Danny were again incarcerated, but that didn’t matter now. Not with what she’d become.
She clutched her teacup tighter, then released it and sighed. With nerves steeled, she paid for her tea, left the restaurant, and headed across the street to the gallery before the shop closed for the evening. Chimes rang when she opened the door and stepped inside.
A woman in a flouncy floral skirt and pink shell was talking to a man wearing a ponytail and dressed in black as if he was a goth. The man’s chin rested on his fist while he nodded and stared at a blob of orange splashed against a sea of purple. Alicia raised her brows. If only she could get thousands of dollars for “artwork” like that while staying hidden at home. She hadn’t attempted any more bounty hunting, what with the unpredictability of her new condition. She wasn’t sure how she was going to earn a living in the future.
Another woman dressed in a business suit was speaking to a small group of what looked to be college students and a slightly older woman who might have been their art teacher.
A suited man was busy talking to a woman who seemed more intrigued by him than the painting they were standing in front of.
Alicia frowned. She needed to question the staff pronto and return to her hotel room, then leave the area forever. That made her sad as she thought about how she wouldn’t be able to visit her mother where she’d died any longer, although she’d made one last trip there before she’d stopped at the restaurant.
The art gallery staff continued to court those they had been speaking to when she’d arrived. Not being able to question them about Jake, she searched for the paintings he had done. A group of paintings of naked women caught her eye, and she smiled a little, thinking of her conversation with him about painting his old girlfriends in the nude and the sexy smile he’d given in return. But the name signed at the bottom wasn’t Jake Silver.
She checked on landscapes next, mostly featuring the Rockies, but none of them had his signature either. Lots more blob pictures were featured all over the place, not his unless he was too embarrassed to sign what he painted and used a different name to disguise his own.
But then she came across a display of photographs. And became engrossed in them. Wildflowers of Colorado. Wild, exotic, in colors so vivid that they looked unreal. The details so defined that she felt she could reach out and touch them and feel the soft velvety petals. Deep orange paintbrush and red fairy-trumpet flowers, cinnabar-red alpine wallflowers and rosy p-ssytoes, fuchsia fairy slipper orchids, bright pink primrose, and spotted wood lilies in a tangerine color.
Her mother had taught Alicia the beauty of wildflowers in their natural habitats when she was younger. Her mother had loved to hike and observe the great blue sky, wisps of clouds, majestic mountains, and towering trees. Even though her mother had been an extrovert and fed off the hustle and bustle of being around tons of people as she waitressed in a busy cafeteria, she still liked to soak in the beauty of nature, and Alicia had shared her mother’s love of the wilderness.
Alicia tried to rein in her sadness when she thought of her mother dying alone in that wilderness with no one to protect her. She took a deep shuddering breath, reminding herself why she’d become a bounty hunter, which had ultimately led her to the unfortunate condition she was in now. Who would have ever thought?
But for the moment, seeing the photographs brought back the happier memories of Alicia and her mother on nature walks, and tears formed in her eyes.
“May I help you?” the woman in the flowery skirt asked. Ponytail man had left, apparently without buying the orange blob as it was still hanging on the wall.
“Yes, I wonder if you could tell me about Jake Silver. He was leaving something off at the art gallery a few weeks back. I need to get in touch with him. It’s important.”
“J.S.” The woman smiled brightly. “Oh yes, he’s…” She sighed and didn’t have to say what was on her mind. The guy was a virile, hunky stud. The woman motioned to the photos. “The photographs you’re admiring are his.”
“J.S.?” Alicia looked down at the extremely small print. Modest, or embarrassed to proclaim they were his? They were beautiful.
“Yes. That’s his autograph. We just started carrying his work. I hope we sell a lot and he makes more trips up here.”
“Up here?”
“Yes, he’s not from around here. I don’t recall where he’s from exactly, but it’s not Breckenridge. He did come in a few times in the past several weeks, looking for a dark-haired woman, who—” The woman’s eyes widened. “Who looked like you, from his description. Are you Alicia Greiston?”
“Yes, I am.” Hope stirred anew that Jake had left contact information for her, yet the knowledge he was looking for her saddened her, too. He had to have been angry with her for running out on him the way she had. She wanted so badly to see him, but…
She swallowed hard. How could she see him, knowing what she’d now become?
The woman’s mouth pursed a little. “Oh. Well, he left something for you.” The woman didn’t look pleased and stalked off to a desk near the entrance.
So it wasn’t Alicia’s imagination that the woman was interested in Jake. Feeling bone-deep sadness that she couldn’t see Jake further and that she had to cut any ties with him, Alicia watched as the woman pulled an envelope out of a desk drawer, then returned. But a streak of jealousy raced through Alicia’s veins, too, as she considered how the woman would most likely ply her feminine wiles on Jake every time he chanced to visit the gallery when Alicia wished she could be with him instead.
Alicia’s hand trembled as she took the envelope, dying to see what he had said to her. Afraid also.
She tucked it into her purse and said, “Thank you.”
She glanced back at the photographs. Although she knew she shouldn’t buy one, that taking one with her would remind her of the time they had spent together and what she had lost, she reasoned that her mother would have loved having one of them. With that thought firmly in mind, Alicia decided on the tangerine spotted wood lilies. Although she wanted the fuchsia fairy slipper orchids, the picture was too big and cost too much. “I’ll take that one.”
Alicia handed her a credit card, and the woman feigned a polite smile. “I’ll just wrap this up for you.”
As soon as the woman had taken the photo down and walked off, Alicia pulled the envelope out of her purse and ripped it open. In bold strokes, Jake had written: Call me! And left his phone number where she could reach him.
Her stomach tightened. She sensed from his note that he was angry and frustrated with her for having taken off without a word. And she didn’t blame him. He seemed the kind of man who wouldn’t have given in to threats by Constantino or his men. If Jake had known why she had left him, he would have been furious, wanting to deal with them in his own way. But he didn’t know what the men were capable of. And his wonderfully macho nature wouldn’t have kept him from being murdered. On the contrary, his protectiveness for her would have gotten him killed faster.
She pulled out her phone and opened it. The battery was dead. She’d have to call Jake when she got to her hotel room.
Then she noticed the suited man moving his hands down the arms of the woman he’d been talking to in a solicitous manner while she adoringly looked up at him. He glanced back at the other two employees, saw they were occupied, and then with a smile, he motioned to a little room, led the woman inside, and shut the door.
At the same instant, Alicia felt sudden heat penetrate every inch of her body. The heat. Oh God, no.
The urge to shift hit her fast and furious. Heat shimmered through every cell, through every tissue. She glanced around the gallery, looking for a way out of this nightmare.
The woman with Alicia’s photo had disappeared into a back room. She had Alicia’s credit card, and Alicia had to have it to survive. The other saleswoman was walking outside with the art students and their teacher, blocking the doorway.
Looking for the restroom, Alicia spied a sign directing her down a hall and rushed to make her way there before she had an “accident.”
As soon as she entered the ladies’ restroom and found no one in there, she hurried into the handicapped stall. Normally, she avoided using the handicapped stall if another stall was available, leaving it to women who truly needed it, but tonight she was as handicapped as anyone.
Slipping out of the short-sleeved dress she wore, she hung it on the hook on the door, then kicked off her pumps. Barely free of her bra and panties, she shifted, the heat fusing every inch of her body until her bones felt as if they were liquefying and remolding, but in a flash. The next thing she knew, she was dropping down on all four feet—furry, long legged, with long a bushy tail—a small gray wolf.
Once again she cursed Ferdinand Massaro for having bitten her and leaving her to face this dilemma on her own. Although she wouldn’t have wanted to see what he’d had in mind to do with her if he’d lived. And she would have been in a lot more danger if she’d remained with him because of his connections.
As if she wasn’t in danger now.
Pacing, she stalked back and forth in the stall—still too small for a highly agitated wolf. It was nearly closing time. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been in the restroom, trying to will herself back into her human form, when someone knocked on the restroom door and opened it.
She froze in place inside the stall. Could they see her wolf legs beneath the door of the stall? She backed up against the tile wall. Her heart was pumping even more rapidly, if that were possible, as she barely breathed.
“Closing in two minutes,” a woman said, sounding impatient. It was the woman who’d been talking to the students.
Instinctively, Alicia knew she couldn’t be caught in a wolf’s form. She’d discarded her bra, panties, and heels on the restroom floor. With the shift hitting her so quickly, she couldn’t do anything else but drop them. What would people think? That she’d eaten Little Red Riding Hood? Or that she was Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf all wrapped up in one?
Oh God, what was she going to do? Since being turned, she’d never been in this bad a fix. As her grandfather used to say, this would learn her. She could never, ever be out in public again during the phase of any moon—waxing, waning, or full. So much for not having to shift all last week. She was making up for it now. It seemed she’d never get rid of this condition or learn to control it.
At least she hadn’t wanted to rip out people’s throats, like the old werewolf tales portrayed. And she had her human conscience, so she wasn’t totally a feral animal. And she was a beautiful wolf, not some hideous beastly creature. Not that any of it mattered while she was stuck in a restroom stall as a wolf with women’s garments strewn about her paws.
Concentrate! She tried again to will herself to shift.
Another minute went by, and knocking sounded on the door. Yes, all right. She knew. It was nearly closing time. She’d worked on the clock before. She knew how employees wanted to go home when it was time to go, and how rude customers were to expect employees to stay all hours at their convenience.
“Ma’am?” a woman said, then heels clicked across the floor toward the stall.
Wolves couldn’t sweat, or Alicia would have been perspiring up a storm. They panted when they were overheated, but she didn’t want to even do that, afraid the woman would hear her. Instead, she stood frozen like a furry wolf statue in the corner of the stall, as far away from the door as she could get, her mouth shut tight, her ears focused on the woman’s approaching footfalls. The slight tremor in the floor reverberated through Alicia’s paws as she kept her eyes riveted on the door.
Two choices. She instinctually knew she had only two choices. Bite the woman and turn her into what Alicia was. Heaven forbid. She wouldn’t want to wish this condition on anyone ever! But then the woman would scream bloody murder. The other two employees would come running or call the cops, or both. Then she’d have to bite all of them, too. Or kill the woman. Which would be the same scenario. In the end, they’d put her down like a vicious wild animal.
A rough knocking on the stall door nearly gave Alicia a heart attack.
“Ma’am? Are you all right?”
No, no she wasn’t all right. Please… don’t… come… in!
“Ma’am?”
When Alicia still didn’t respond, the woman hurried out of the restroom.
She was going for the authorities. Probably worried a dead body was in the stall. Would be, too, if they caught Alicia like this—and killed her.
She paced some more. Shift, damn it! Change! Turn! What were the magic words?
“A woman’s in the stall. She was the one who bought Mr. Silver’s photograph. She looked to be late twenties or so, not all that old, but I think she’s died or something. She’s not responding,” the woman said frantically to someone outside the restroom door.
“Did you look under the stall?” a man asked, his voice darkly controlled.
Alicia glanced at the bottom of the stall door. If anyone peered underneath, they’d see her. And that would be the beginning of the end. Shrieks would ensue. Her heart would fail.
“No. I… I didn’t.” The woman sounded a bit shaken.
The door opened, and heavier footfalls approached. A man’s footfalls. Oh, God, oh God, please, please help me.
She felt the heat race through her bones and muscles, her nerves and blood. And prayed it was the change. And not caused by the frantic panic filling her blood. That she would once again be her normal self. Normal self. She laughed at herself over that. This proved she’d never be her normal self again.
Just as the footfalls ended abruptly at the stall door, the shift swiftly overtook her. She stood naked on the tile floor, the cool air conditioning sweeping across her bare skin, and she quickly squeaked out, “Sorry, I fainted. I’m pregnant. I’m sorry. I’ll be right out.”
It had been the only thing she could think of in her haste, remembering the time her mother had said she’d passed out when she was pregnant with Alicia.
As quickly as Alicia could, she jerked her panties off the floor and yanked them on. She fumbled with her bra after that, realizing the man was still standing outside the stall door, waiting for her to open up—probably in case she “fainted” once more. Heat again shimmered through her, but it was more of a skin-deep heat from embarrassment. If he opened the door now while she was half-naked, what in the world would he think she’d been up to?
She tugged the dress over her head and decided she didn’t look pregnant in the least, but she was extremely flushed and now perspiring. She was sure she looked overcome. Just like she felt.
After slipping her bare feet into her pumps, she wrenched open the stall door and smiled a diminutive, weary smile—at least that’s how she tried to make her expression look. Although she knew she had to look overwrought in any event.
“I’m sorry. I must have fainted again. Not enough electrolytes. My mother had warned me.” She rattled off the words, feeling truly light-headed and still worried her furry wolf half might try to take over again.
Then she headed for the sink and washed her hands, just like she would have done after using the facilities, if she’d used them.
The man still watched her warily, but she wasn’t sure whether he thought she was lying—he did look at her flat belly beneath the dress—or worried she’d faint again. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look to see his expression. But then a horrible thought occurred to her. What if he’d thought she was doing drugs?
She took a couple of steps forward, then grabbed his arm as if she might pass out again, and this time the expression on his face was one of pure horror. Not that she was faking much of anything. Her head wouldn’t quit spinning.
He grabbed her around the waist and sputtered, “D-do you need an ambulance?”
“No, thank you. I haven’t been eating enough. Or drinking enough fluids. I’ll… I’ll be all right.”
Still, he didn’t let her go, and for the first time in her life, she really wished she had a hero type like him—like Jake, rather—in her life. Practical, no nonsense, she’d never really felt she’d needed anyone. But now?
“Get her something to drink,” the man said quickly to the woman hovering near the door.
Alicia sighed. She really needed help. Then she felt a wave of depression hit all at once. How could she see Jake or anyone when she was a damn werewolf? Wouldn’t she want to do to him what Ferdinand did to her? Bite him? Change him? Make him live like she had to live? Her heart sinking into a pit of despair, she knew she couldn’t get in touch with Jake directly. Not now, not ever.
“Are you sure we can’t call someone for you?” the man asked as he helped her toward the restroom door.
“No, thanks.”
The woman who had sold her the photograph had stepped into the restroom now, too, with the picture wrapped in paper cradled in her arms. She pointedly looked at the envelope half-sticking out of Alicia’s purse.
“What about him?” the woman asked quietly, as if she thought Jake was the father of Alicia’s baby and they’d had a falling-out. The other woman must have told her what had happened.
Poor Jake. He was now thought to be the father of a nonexistent baby, and he was truly the dream lover of a woman who was part wolf.
“No,” Alicia said again, almost sounding desperate.
The man and women shared concerned, knowing looks.
The man continued to help Alicia out of the restroom, and she did really feel shaky from nearly being caught in the altogether as a wolf. He must have sensed her unsteadiness and held on tighter. When they left the restroom, the other female employee had a cell phone in one hand and a chilled bottle of water in the other, ready to call 9-1-1 probably, and everyone was looking a lot more worried than irritated about leaving work late.
That still bothered Alicia. She hated that she really had inconvenienced them. But Ferdinand was the one to blame for all this. Damn his black soul.
“Mary said you were trying to locate Jake Silver,” the man remarked.
“I gave her the envelope he left for her.” Mary pointed at the incriminating evidence in Alicia’s purse pocket, halfway exposed.
“Does it have an address?” The man sounded really annoyed with Jake, so Alicia figured he thought Jake was the father of her faux baby, too. How could things get into such a mess?
“A phone number,” Alicia said. “I’m to call him.” She tried to sound as enthusiastic as she could under the circumstances.
The man and the two women exchanged glances. They thought Jake was a villain.
“He has a home in Silver Town, Colorado,” Mary blurted out, as if she wanted Alicia to know the truth in case Jake had steered her wrong.
“Thanks,” Alicia said very sweetly.
Maybe she could call Silver Town and leave a message with someone else to get word to him that she was all right, and that would be it. But she didn’t dare call Jake directly because she was afraid he’d try to locate her—and what a disaster that would be.
The man helped her to a chair, and the woman gave her the water. Alicia only wanted to leave as quickly as she could before she had another damnable urge to shift. Politely, she drank a little of the water, never being one who could drink a glass of anything in a hurry. But she was trying her damnedest while everyone watched her expectantly.
They didn’t seem interested in leaving either, instead being more concerned about her welfare. God, what a fraud she was. She was three-quarters of the way through the bottle of water when she had to go to the bathroom. She could make it to her hotel if she hurried.
“Thanks so much, and I’m so sorry I’ve made you late for closing.” Rising from the chair, she cradled her purse and the nearly finished bottle of water in her arms.
They all looked at the bottle as if it held magic water and if she didn’t drink all of it, she’d pass out again.
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” the man asked, his hand outstretched in rescue mode.
“Oh, yes. I’m feeling so much better.” She started to move toward the door.
“Could one of us drive you home?” the man asked. “One of us could follow behind.”
“No, no, I’ll be fine.”
“Do you need one of us to follow you home?” Mary asked, clutching the framed photograph in her arms.
“No, really. I’m all right now.”
“All right. Well, I’ll walk with you out to your car,” Mary said.
The man and other woman did also, and when Alicia had settled herself behind the steering wheel, Mary handed her the wrapped, framed photograph of the wood lilies, casting her another look of sympathy while the man and woman watched her gravely. Alicia thanked them all profusely.
When she drove out of the parking space, Alicia noted in her rearview mirror that they were still watching her. Mary shook her head.
Poor Jake when he returned to the gallery. What if they made him remove his photographs? They wouldn’t do that to him. They couldn’t do that. Alicia let out her breath. She could write and tell them how much she loved their gallery and that when she had more money, she’d buy another one of his photos. That would work, wouldn’t it?
Either that, or they’d think she was in love with Jake and pining over him but he was trying to call it quits with her. She felt bad all over again. She hoped she hadn’t ruined his reputation with the art gallery.
A car’s headlights followed her through town, and she had the creepy feeling the vehicle was following her. Call it woman’s intuition, a sixth sense, wolf wariness. She’d considered leaving without her bags, but she couldn’t. Besides, she was dying to go to the bathroom.
She pulled into her parking lot, hurried out of the car, used the bathroom, and then grabbed her bags to leave the hotel she’d already paid for. With every intention of leaving Breckenridge for good, she returned to the car, dumped her bags in the trunk, and headed out of town.
Again, she felt as though she was being followed, but when she left town, the car turned off down a rural road. Relieved, she figured she’d stay in the next town of Crestview. But the concern lingered—what if Mario could still pull strings and send men after her even from prison? Or what if the men who’d killed Ferdinand Massaro in his townhouse had somehow learned she’d witnessed his death? Although she couldn’t know who they were, they wouldn’t know that. And she would be a loose end easily tied up.