chapter Eighteen
The next morning, my cell phone woke me out of a sound sleep. My head was cushioned against Beau’s broad, warm chest, my legs tangled with his. On his nightstand, my cell phone buzzed, and Sara’s ringtone played.
I jerked up at the sound and winced when I realized my long hair was caught under his head.
He opened his eyes and smiled at me. “Good morning. Sleep well?”
I untangled my legs from his. “I don’t remember going to sleep at all,” I teased.
I wanted to slide underneath him and feel his heavy, wonderful weight over me. I wanted to burrow against his chest and let the world fall away.
As the phone continued to blare my sister’s ringtone, I sighed “I need to get that.”
He reached over and handed the phone to me.
I flipped open my cell phone. “Hey.”
“Hey, Bath!” she said, entirely too chirpy. “You took forever to answer. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t hear the blush in my voice. Beau pulled me back down against him and I squirmed away. “How are you? Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s good. Very quiet. We’ve mostly been playing on the computer. Ramsey’s terrible at it, but I think he keeps trying for my sake.” I could hear her munching on something—probably toast. “How about you? Are you keeping busy?”
I choked. “Uh … yeah, I’m—I’m fine.” A nervous laugh escaped my throat. “Just staying busy with work and all.”
“Mmmhmm.” She paused. “Beau’s right there, isn’t he?”
Oh, God, shoot me now. “No, he’s not. Whatever makes you think that?”
“You have this high-pitched squeak in your voice.” Munch munch. “And Ramsey told me that Beau was crazy about you. You like him, too, don’t you?”
Beau snorted and rubbed his foot against my calf. “I never used the word ‘crazy.’ ”
Of course Beau could hear everything Sara said. What could be more humiliating than that? “Nothing’s going on,” I said, even as Beau’s hand slid to my very naked behind and pinched it, making me squeak.
“Of course something’s going on. You’re dating him. You’re sleeping together.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” I said, stifling the moan that threatened when Beau’s fingers lightly danced along the inside of my thigh. “What’s going on?”
“So, uh, I don’t know how to break this to you,” Sara said slowly, and my heart dropped.
“What is it?” My mind automatically went to panic mode. If we left town tonight, we could still get away. Pack up under the cover of darkness …
“Ramsey knows,” she said.
“He knows what?” My heart pounded in my chest. Maybe we were talking about two different things.
“About the wolf thing?” Beau said lazily. “He’s always known.”
I stopped breathing. I couldn’t think. “I’ll call you back,” I said breathlessly to Sara, then hung up the phone. “What do you mean, you know? What wolf thing?”
“Your sister is the wolf the Anderson pack has been looking for,” he said, following me up the bed, a cat stalking its prey, as I shrank backward.
I was stunned. “How … how did you know?”
He shrugged. “Any shifter with a nose can tell as soon as she walks in the door. I kept smelling wolf on you and thought it was some sort of carryover from work, and when I met Sara it all clicked. That’s why Ramsey’s shadowing her—he’s going to keep her safe until we get Savannah back.”
Tears blurred in my eyes. I felt … I didn’t know how I felt. I was a volcano, ready to explode with rage. I was a balloon that had just been deflated. I repeated Beau’s words, still not comprehending. “He’s going to keep her safe?”
His hands slid to my waist and he pulled me down the bed and under him, then began pressing kisses to my belly button. “That’s what I said.”
“But … but the wolves …”
“We would never give your sister up to them in return for our sister,” he said, and nipped at my stomach. “You realize that, don’t you?”
Sara was totally safe? No one would trade her to the wolves, taking her away from me forever? The relief was so overwhelming me that I felt like sobbing. For six long years it had been us against the world, always hiding, always frightened. Knowing that we had people to share our burden stunned me into silence.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Beau asked.
No!
But that wasn’t fair. I knew I had to say the words somehow. I breathed deep, trying to bolster my courage. “When I was in my first semester of college, Sara met a man. She was only seventeen and he was really controlling. When I found out she’d moved in with him, I went home to talk some sense into her. She got so upset that … she changed into a wolf right before my eyes. That was when I learned about werewolves. And that she’d been bitten. We tried to hide from him, but he came back for Sara and … I killed him. Shot him.”
Would he hate that I had killed a man? I had blood on my hands, and I wasn’t regretful in the slightest.
Beau rested his chin on my stomach, looking up at me. “It was necessary,” he said simply. “You needed to keep her safe.”
“I shot him after he bit me, too,” I said softly. “He was going to kill Sara, and I shot him dead, and buried him in the backyard.”
Beau’s eyes gleamed, and I knew that he didn’t disapprove of me. He understood doing whatever it took to keep loved ones safe.
He pressed another kiss on my stomach, then glanced up at me. “But you didn’t turn?”
I shook my head. “It didn’t affect me at all. I don’t know why Sara was more susceptible than me, but she just was. She became a wolf and I became …” Her keeper, I wanted to say, but it sounded so unfair. Sara hadn’t chosen it. When I’d found her she’d been broken and frightened and so close to being wild, and I’d nursed her back from the edge. I regretted nothing.
He didn’t look surprised by my words. “It happens. Some people are born immune. The theory is that most people have an ancestor that could shift, or so they carry the gene and are susceptible. It’s rare to find someone who’s totally immune.”
“Sara and I have different mothers,” I reminded him. “But you know what this means?”
“What?”
I swallowed hard. “You can’t turn me. I’ll never be a shifter. I’ll never be able to have a shifter’s children.”
I waited for him to grasp that I couldn’t ever be the right mate for him, to stiffen and move away. Instead, he nipped my hip hard enough to make me squeal in surprise. “Hey! I’m trying to tell you something here!”
“You’re telling me that you can’t have my litter, so I can bite you as much as I want,” he said, his voice a low, contented rumble. “Or did I miss something?”
“You don’t care?”
His fingers flexed against my hips, the same way a cat might knead, and he gave me a serious look. “If it matters to you, we could always adopt.
I know of a gentle were-bear that could use a home—”
I snorted. “Absolutely not.”
He grinned. “You’re distracting me from your story. So you and Sara killed the rogue wolf and ran from the wolf pack?”
I nodded. “We moved to another state, looking for someplace with fewer wolves. Giselle offered me an office job but wouldn’t say what it was, and I nearly passed out with fright when I realized exactly what her business was. I thought she’d set me up.”
He chuckled. “I bet.”
“But we needed money so badly we had to stay. No choice.” I ran my fingers through his hair. “A few weeks passed, and Giselle said nothing about Sara. Then she suggested that I hire my sister to help out in the office. Sara was tired of running, so she went in that first day expecting Giselle to bust her, but … nothing. Giselle had no idea what Sara was—or at least, I thought she didn’t. It seemed like the perfect way to keep tabs on the wolf packs and hide right under their noses, if we were careful.” I sighed. Telling the story was taking an immense weight off my shoulders. “We’ve been careful for six years now. Sara can control it a little better, but she still has bad moments—a lot of them.”
“And you never dated? Anyone?”
I shook my head. “It would have put Sara at risk.”
“You’ve had a tough life, but it’s made you strong.” He rested his chin on my stomach, as if thinking, then said, “Is that why you said you don’t want to be with me?”
“That was the original reason. But now Giselle knows Sara’s secret. And she’s going to sell her to the wolves unless I keep dating other men that she sets me up with.”
A low, possessive snarl started in his throat. “You’re not going to date anyone else. You’re going to be with me, and together we’re going to protect Sara. Understand?”
I wasn’t sure if I could turn over Sara’s well-being to someone else that easily. I was too used to taking care of it all, of always remaining vigilant.
“Or is it that you really don’t want to date me, either?” Beau’s gray eyes searched my face. “Is that why?”
It dawned on me that I’d hurt his feelings. “You know better than that, Beau.”
“Actually, I don’t.” His voice sounded grim.
I stared at him, vulnerability warring with shyness. I opened my mouth, and a squeak came out. Mortified, I cleared my throat and tried again. “I …”
“You … ?” He lifted an eyebrow, waiting.
I slapped his naked chest. “I like you, all right? At first I only dated you because of the Rosie thing, but I slept with you because I like you. I’m in this bed with you because I like you—not because of anything I owe Giselle. I like you a little too much, maybe.”
He grinned, all self-confident cat once more, and brushed a strand of hair off my cheek. “I know.”
“If you knew, why did you make me say it out loud?” My face burned hot. I hated leaving myself open like that.
Beau tilted his head, regarding me. “I wanted to make sure you knew it, too.”
“Oh, thank you, zen master,” I said sarcastically and pushed at him. He didn’t budge. With a sigh, I ran my hands down his back. “I suppose I should call the office and tell them I can’t come in for a few more days. Lay low until we figure all this out and both Sara and Savannah are safe.”
“You should,” he agreed. His muscles flexed under my hands, clearly enjoying my petting.
I continued to glide my hands over his back, fascinated with the play of muscles under his smooth skin. His spine had the most amazing indentations, and I trailed my fingers down to the swell of his buttocks.
If all shapeshifters were made as wonderfully as him, why did they need a dating service at all? My fingers slid to his buttocks and I grasped them, fighting the sudden urge to bite the rounded muscles.
Beau’s eyes gleamed that catlike green-gold. “You’re doing it again,” he said in a husky voice.
“Doing what?” I looked up at him with glazed eyes.
“Thinking about sex,” he murmured, then his mouth descended on my neck.
“It’s a shame that thinking is all that’s happening,” I teased.
His hand slid under my leg, hiking it up around his waist, and the rest went just as I’d hoped.
No one was answering the phone at the office. That disturbed me, and when I suggested that we check things out, Beau didn’t protest. It would allow me to explain to Giselle face-to-face why I needed to be absent, and would also let me find out what was going on.
I pushed open the door.
The front office was silent. Were Marie and Ryder taking a few hours off? If so, who was manning the office? Giselle? That would explain why the phones weren’t being answered—she thought she was too good for that. A quick glance at her office showed the light was on, the door shut.
I told Beau, “I’ll talk with Giselle and get some time off of work. You stay here.”
“I don’t smell anyone,” he said and moved past me. “No one recent, anyhow.” His nose wrinkled as if he smelled something. “Old Spice?”
Jason’s cologne was so strong that it had probably lingered, and Beau’s sensitive nose had picked it up. “A client who came in yesterday,” I said.
He headed for Giselle’s office, and I planted my hands on his back and steered him toward the file room. “Let me talk to her first, Beau.” When he balked, I continued, “Five minutes. That’s all I ask.”
“And you’ll stay with me until we figure this out, so I can protect you?”
“Yes, but I have to let Giselle down easy. She won’t like it if you come in and start throwing your weight around, demanding things. Let me handle her.”
“All right. Five minutes. But no more.”
I nodded, headed for Giselle’s office, and knocked on her door.
No answer.
I cracked the door open and peeked in.
No one was there. That was odd. If Giselle wasn’t in, then who was running the office?
That did make bailing out of work a little easier, though. Flickers of guilt bothered me as I realized that no one would be in, but I couldn’t stick around and hope someone showed up. I went to the other side of Giselle’s desk and grabbed a piece of her stationery to leave her a note.
Giselle, family emergency has come up. Call me on my cell and I’ll explain.
I wrote down my cell number and signed the note, hoping that she’d understand. I studied the note for a moment, biting my lip. Oh, who was I kidding? She wouldn’t buy it. I drummed my fingers on the desk in frustration and accidentally hit her mouse.
The computer monitor blinked to life, and Giselle’s screen lit up.
I froze. Giselle would kill me if she knew I’d seen her screen—her desktop wallpaper was a rather incriminating picture of her and three sailors. Oh, my. How she could look at that every day and still get work done, I didn’t know.
Windows were flashing on her screen, and I clicked on one. A chat messenger—BigWilly69 (lovely man, I’m sure) was sending frantic messages. R U STILL THERE? R U ALIVE? HELLO LOL. All dated at 10:49 last night. Odd. I clicked on a few of the other messages and found the same thing, although one had sent a picture of his dick. Nice. I quickly clicked away.
Maybe she’d just forgotten to turn off her computer when she’d left the office?
A new message popped up. Giselle, are you there?
The screen name was Jason_ontheprowl.
Jason?
I hesitated a moment, then typed. Hi, Jason, it’s Bathsheba. I’m borrowing Giselle’s computer.
A long moment passed. Then Jason’s response lit up on the screen.
Bathsheba—a smiley face followed my name. Are you okay? You left so fast last night. I was hoping we could talk. Tonight, maybe? Drinks at my place?
Ugh. He’d gone straight to Giselle to try and set up more dates? Something has come up, I typed. Can we catch up next week?
Or never. Never would be a really good time to catch up.
Sure, he typed, another smiley tagged on. I’ll call you.
I good-bye’d, then logged out of chat. The calendar was underneath the chat box, and I took a look at it.
She’d booked three more dates for me today. Garth again, Jason in the evening, and some new guy named Ricardo in the afternoon. She’d thoughtfully tagged each appointment with the client’s profile ID, the sum he’d paid to date me, and an email address.
I fired off quick emails to the men explaining that I would be out of town, then deleted the incriminating evidence from Giselle’s Sent folder.
“Bathsheba?” Marie’s inquiring voice called out.
“In here,” I called back.
She stepped into Giselle’s office a moment later, thumbed a gesture behind her, and gave me a curious look. “I found a stray. Can we keep him?”
Behind her, Beau came out of the shadows and grinned at me. “It’s been ten minutes.” He lifted his head and sniffed the air once, then rubbed his nose. The scent of Old Spice must really bother him.
“I was just shutting down Giselle’s computer. Then I’m done.”
Marie was looking at Beau with a rather adoring look on her face. “Take your time. I can make some coffee if you’re going to be sticking around,” she said, and I realized she wasn’t talking to me. Irritation flashed.
Beau grinned, but his eyes were resting on me. “Thank you, but we need to get going.”
I nodded and moved around Giselle’s desk. My shoe slid across the tile, and I nearly face-planted on the floor, but Beau lunged past Marie and grabbed me. “Sorry,” I breathed, distracted by his proximity. “I slipped on something.”
I glanced down and saw dark smears on the tile, sticky and red.
Blood.
Beau’s face paled. “I didn’t smell it,” he murmured in surprise, even as he ushered me out of Giselle’s office and hurried through the main office.
“Where are you going?” Marie cried behind us. “What’s going on?”
“Bathsheba is in danger.” Beau didn’t break stride, urging me toward the door. “I’m sending someone over here to look after the office. I want you to come outside with us, understand?”
She gave him a frightened nod and glanced back at Giselle’s office, then followed us out.
I wasn’t moving fast enough for Beau. He swung me into his arms as if I weighed nothing and carried me out to the car. Ramsey had gotten us a rental car at some point last night, and Beau shoved me into its backseat. “Lie down and cover up with that coat until I tell you otherwise.”
I heard Marie slide into the front seat and lie down, her terrified breathing loud and raspy. For God’s sake. It wasn’t like snipers were going to be shooting from the rooftops or something. “Beau, are you sure—”
“Lie down,” he snarled, and I did. He shut the door after me, and I lay there, scarcely daring to breathe. Outside he paced back and forth, jingling the keys, ready to move.
It seemed like an eternally long time before I heard other voices, and I sat up to sneak a peek. The other Russell clan members had arrived. At the sight of them, Marie was let out of the car—I was given a firm glare and stayed put—and Beau and his men investigated the building. One of them stood outside, protecting me as I lay in the back of the car, and then Beau reemerged. The men talked in low voices, but the body language was a bit more relaxed. Safe for now.
Beau opened my door and I slid out of the car. “Marie will be okay?”
“Yes. Two of the boys will stay with her.”
“How come you didn’t smell the blood?” I asked.
“There were too many other smells—the dust, the cologne, flowers. You.” He glanced over at me. “The Old Spice was bothering my nose, so I focused on the smell of you and nothing else.” He looked angry. “It was stupid of me.”
I sat in flattered silence as Beau got in, then pulled out onto the street. I had a million questions, but all I could think about was that pool of half-dried blood under Giselle’s chair.
We drove back to the hotel in silence. I was lost in thought, and Beau didn’t seem inclined to talk, either. The hotel was bustling this morning—people getting coffee before heading off to conferences or meetings, people with suitcases checking out. I shivered every time someone looked at me, then realized it was because I was wearing a dirty sweaterdress and no tights in winter.
My hand clenched tight in his, Beau led me back through the maze of hotel rooms, his face bleak, his eyes slitted and cold. Determined. Angry. He paused in front of our door, sniffing the air, then pulled out the key-card.
“Beau,” I said, “I don’t have any clothes.” With the angry protective state he was in, I might not emerge for days.
He gave me a hard look. “You’re not going back home.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
He glanced at my dress. “Wash it in the sink.”
Typical male response. “Are you on drugs?” An elderly couple passed us in the hallway, staring. Maybe I’d been a little too loud. Oops. I leaned in, dropping my voice to a whisper. “I don’t have any panties.”
A slight smile lightened his expression. “Are you flirting with me?”
“No! I’m telling you I need some panties,” I whispered furiously. “We need to go to the store—”
“Too risky,” he interrupted.
The store? Risky? Was he mad? “Then you need to call Ramsey and tell him to bring me panties.”
He stared at me for a moment. “No.”
I blinked in surprise. “What do you mean, no? I need clothing.”
He pushed the door open and gestured for me to go in. “Your life is in danger. You can go shopping later.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. The vein throbbing there was going to burst soon if I didn’t get to punch something. “You’re not listening to me,” I began.
“You’re not listening to me,” he said, putting his hand on the small of my back and basically shoving me forward.
I planted my feet, furious. “Beauregard Russell. If I have to stand in this hall all day arguing over panties to get some, then by God, that’s what I’m going to do.” I braced my feet against the door frame, glaring at him.
He tickled my sides and I collapsed in a fit of giggles. He grabbed me by the waist and carried me inside, dumped me on the bed, then crawled on top of me. A hint of a smile had returned to his stern face.
“Panties?” he asked.
“Panties,” I affirmed. “Jeans and a T-shirt would be appreciated, too.”
He leaned over and kissed me. “Your wish is my command. I’ll see what Ramsey can scrounge up.”
I had mental images of a bear scrounging for frilly underpants, and snorted. “Maybe Sara should help him.”