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Authors: Cynthia Shelly; Eden Laurenston

Howl for It (10 page)

BOOK: Howl for It
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C
HAPTER
T
WELVE
D
arla rolled out of bed naked and stood, stretching her arms high over her head. With an allover shake, she grabbed one of Eggie’s black T-shirts off a chair and pulled it on over her head while she hurried downstairs. She rubbed her stomach and gazed into the refrigerator, trying to figure out what she wanted for breakfast.
“What’cha making this morning, Darla Mae?”
Darla closed her eyes and willed herself not to jump out of her skin at the voice coming from behind her. When she felt calm enough, she glanced over her shoulder. “Hey, Nicky Ray.”
“Hey.”
He pointed at the wall and Darla blinked. “A phone? You put in a phone?”
“Eggie told me to.” He grinned. “I’m the technically savvy one in this family.”
Darla, too nice to hurt the man’s feelings, smiled and nodded. “Of course you are. But Bubba said Eggie hates phones.”
“He does, but he wants you to feel safe. He asked me to take care of it when we first got back from Smithville. I just didn’t mention it to anybody.” Nicky swiped up an apple he had lying on the counter and took a bite out of it. “So y’all coming tonight?”
“Of course.”
“You sure? The whole family will be there.”
“Not a problem.” She yawned and grabbed the milk.
“Should you talk to Eggie first or are you speaking for both of you now?”
Darla glanced at the wolf before pouring milk into her glass. “Kind of an instigator, aren’t you, Nicky Ray?”
“Don’t know what’cha mean.”
“I think you do.”
He grinned at her and turned to go but he crashed right into his brother’s chest. “Hey, Eggie.”
Eggie bared his fangs and snarled. Eyes down, Nicky maneuvered around his brother and bolted out the backdoor.
Laughing, Darla shook her head and drank her milk.
“You sleep all right?” Eggie asked her.
“When I got sleep, yes.” She winked and handed him her half-finished glass of milk. Eggie took it and finished the rest in one gulp.
“Now,” she asked, walking to the phone, “why is this here?”
“Safety. You have any problems, you dial zero and Stacey, the town operator, will send the sheriff and deputies right over.”
“You sure all this is necessary, Eggie?”
“I’m not taking any chances. Not with you.”
Darla grinned and Eggie began to move toward her. But the new phone rang and Eggie’s reaction was . . . surprising. He jumped back about four feet and began barking at the phone, over and over again.
Not sure how long before the dang phone was ripped from the wall, Darla quickly picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
Unable to make out any words over the continued noise, she looked at Eggie and snapped, “Egbert Ray!”
He stopped barking but then he growled at the phone like she was holding a live snake.
Good Lord.
Eggie watched Darla on that damn phone. He hated phones.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “What was that? Oh, hi, Miss Pauline. Do I know who?” Darla gasped and looked down at herself. “Yes,” she said into the phone. “Yes. I know him. Please send him here. Under protection please. Thank you so much, Miss Pauline.”
Darla hung up the phone and looked down at herself again. “Lord! I gotta get dressed.”
She darted past him and Eggie followed. “Where are you going?”
“I gotta get cleaned up.” She glanced back as she jogged up the stairs. “I am just
covered
in you.”
“As well you should be,” he muttered, before he followed her up the stairs and to the bathroom. He stood outside while she turned on the shower.
“So who’s coming here?” he asked.
“My boss.”
Eggie’s eyes narrowed. “Your boss? There’s a Van Holtz on Smith territory?”
Darla spun around to face Eggie. “Egbert Ray, do
not
start anything with Bernhard Van Holtz.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “We got a damn Nazi coming to the house.”
“He is
not
and I want you to promise me you’ll be nice to him.”
“To a Van Holtz? Never gonna happen. And I don’t want you being around him.”
“He’s my boss.”
Eggie stared at her. “So you’re going back there?”
Darla blinked, clearly surprised by his question. “Um . . . I don’t . . . I haven’t really . . .” She fluttered her hands in the air. “Egbert Ray, I don’t have time for all this. Now out. I need to take the quickest shower known to man and get dressed.”
Eggie stepped into the hallway and Darla closed the door.
It wasn’t that he was surprised she was planning to go back. Planning to return to San Francisco and her life as a pastry chef for a goddamn Van Holtz. But, what did shock him was that she was planning to go back without him. At least that’s how it felt when she didn’t mention anything about them going back together. Not with her all distracted by some pansy wolf coming to
his
door.
Confused, pissed off, and hurt, Eggie walked downstairs, went out his front door, and sat down on his porch.
He waited.
 
Darla tugged on the little summer dress, slipped on her sandals, and quickly brushed out her hair.
She ran down the stairs and headed to the kitchen to get glasses and a pitcher of sweet tea together, but she saw through the windows that Mr. Van Holtz was already here, standing outside Eggie’s house . . . and staring down Eggie.
“Oh, Lord!”
She charged to the door and snatched it open. Neither wolf looked away from the other as she ran out onto the porch. She stopped at the top of the stairs, getting between Eggie and her boss.
“Hello, Mr. Van Holtz.”
The wolf smiled at her and she saw real concern and relief in his face.
“Darla.” He came up the stairs and kissed her cheek. She heard Eggie’s growl but she chose to ignore it. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I heard what happened in Smithville. I’m so sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I should have told you why I sent you home, but I didn’t want to worry you.”
She shook her head. “Don’t even think about it, sir.”
“It never occurred to me that they’d go after you there, and I was hoping to get the situation worked out before calling you back.”
“Oh. Did you get it worked out?”
“I’m sorry, no. Not yet.”
Darla hated herself for feeling relieved by that, but she was . . . unsure. Did Eggie want her to stay with him? Or just stay with him for now? It was hard to tell with the man. He wasn’t exactly big on expressing emotion except when he was annoyed.
“Do you think we can take a walk?”
Noting that Mr. Van Holtz wasn’t looking at her when he asked the question, Darla looked over her shoulder. Eggie stood behind her now—she’d never even heard him move—his arms crossed over his chest, his wolf eyes locked on Mr. Van Holtz.
The Van Holtzes were tall but lean wolves. With less brawn, they used their brains to devastating effect when it came to a fight. And, for as long as the two Packs had existed, Smiths and Van Holtzes were sworn enemies, although Darla had no idea why. She did know that there’d been Pack wars over the centuries between the two. They’d been ugly, brutal, and something many hoped would never be repeated.
Darla gestured down the stairs and walked Van Holtz away from the porch. “Give me a minute, would you?” she asked and returned to the stairs Eggie was standing on.
“I’ll be right back,” she told him. “Don’t follow me.”
“You expect me to leave you alone with a goddamn Van Holtz?”
“Watch how you speak to me, Egbert Ray Smith. I ain’t some little whore you picked up on the street somewhere. Understand me?”
He grunted and she decided to take that as a “yes” to her question.
“We won’t be long, we won’t leave Smith territory, just wait until I get back.”
When he didn’t say anything, she returned to Van Holtz’s side. “Ready?” she asked, forcing a smile.
 
He watched Darla walk away with that smooth talkin’, fancy dressed, skinny-assed rich bastard.
Eggie had grown up hating Van Holtzes. That was what every Smith was taught at birth. But now he
really
hated them. A lot.
Bubba came out of Eggie’s house, his mouth full of the last slice of pie Eggie had found and hidden the night before. “You just gonna let him go off with your woman?”
“You wanna stay out of my business?”
“You can’t kill him. Daddy gave his word he’d be protected and Momma would have a fit.”
“I don’t care. Why are you still talking to me?”
“No reason.”
Eggie went back into his house, slamming the door shut, then he shifted to wolf, shook off his clothes and went out the back door. Then he tracked down Darla and Van Holtz, making sure to stay upwind of them.
 
Horrified, Darla sat down on a boulder, her hands on her cheeks.
“Poor Mr. Kozlow.” She shook her head. “He was always so sweet to me.”
Harold Kozlow was the full-human owner of the high-end jewelry store next door to the Van Holtz restaurant, and he was a smoker. Any time Darla needed a break from the kitchen, she’d go out back and that’s often where she found Mr. Kozlow. Over time, even though she didn’t smoke, they’d become friendly. They always ended up chatting and she would bring him pastries. It was a nice, cheerful relationship that Darla had enjoyed.
“They found him about a week ago,” Mr. Van Holtz told her.
“Oh. That’s horrible.” Darla blinked. “But . . . what does this have to do with me? I didn’t see anything happen to Mr. Kozlow.”
“Two nights before I sent you on vacation . . . did you see Mr. Kozlow’s sons, Alvin and Petey?”
Darla’s lip curled a little. She’d never really liked those two. They made her skin crawl. “I think so. If I recall correctly. But only for a second or two.”
“But they saw you?”
“I believe so.”
“Well, they were picked up the next day.”
“Picked up for what?”
“The police said it was because they had a witness who saw them kill their father.”
Darla shook her head. “It wasn’t me.”
“I know but for some reason they thought it was you. At least for a while.”
“What do you mean for a while?”
“They must have figured out it wasn’t you because the actual witness was killed in the hotel room where the cops had put this person for his safety.”
“That’s awful.” Darla thought a minute. “But if they found the person who saw them, why would they still be after me?”
“They still seem to think you saw something.”
“I didn’t. They came out the back door of their father’s store and I went back inside the restaurant, like I always do when I see them.”
“The last time you saw them, was their father with them?”
“No.” She thought a moment. “No. I didn’t see Mr. Kozlow at all. They were carrying duffel bags but . . .”
Van Holtz was staring at her, one brow raised and Darla couldn’t hide her revulsion. “Eeew. Their father was in those bags, wasn’t he?”
“Probably.”
“Poor Mr. Kozlow!”
“The problem is, Darla, you can still place them at the scene of their father’s death. You’re still a threat.”
“I have to talk to the police.”
“To protect you?”
“No. To tell them what I saw.”
Van Holtz shook his head. “Darla, I don’t think you should do that.”
BOOK: Howl for It
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