Lycan Packs 1: Lycan Instinct (39 page)
Read Lycan Packs 1: Lycan Instinct Online
Authors: Brandi Broughton
“Yeah, he’ll talk. I’ll make sure of it,” she promised. Her sudden grin reminded her of Richard’s brutality; she tentatively touched her split lip.
Are you all right, Detective?
Gabe’s voice had her looking around for the man before she realized the sound was in her head. She glanced at the wolf, smiled, and held out a hand.
“Hey, boy,” she said for the benefit of the officers still standing nearby. “We’re all going to be all right, I think. But I know you.” She narrowed her eyes playfully and patted his head. “You won’t trick me into petting your belly again.”
Male laughter erupted around her and inside her head. It was an unusual feeling, but one that seemed right.
Rafe made to hug her, and she grabbed his arms. “Hey, none of that. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, prisoners to interrogate, reports to file, work to do.”
“Tomorrow.” His eyes narrowed. “Tonight, I’ve got other duties in mind.”
“Oh, yeah?” Despite the audience and knowing she’d be teased without mercy tomorrow, she let him pull her into an embrace.
“Like thanking your landlord for starters.” He gave her a peck on the tip of her nose.
“I was thinking a thank-you card would do.”
“Not good enough.”
“No?” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, that’s right. It’s so hard to buy for a man who can own the universe.” She stared into his eyes. “What do you give a man like that?”
“Your heart.”
She smiled. “You got it, wolfman,” she said, and pressed her lips to his.
THE END
...FOR NOW...
Author Bio
Brandi lives in a log home with her husband, son, and a salt-and-pepper schnauzer who believes he owns the place.
She loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her through any of the following Web sites:
Also available from Cobblestone Press
Breaking in Levi by Ann Cory
“Damn.”
Victoria switched off the radio and resorted to humming to herself. All of the decent radio stations were crackling with static, and she hated the quiet.
With a brief glance up at the rearview mirror, she noted that no one was behind her. Since dinner at the rustic little café, she’d been the only one on the road, a fact that was strangely comforting and disturbing at the same time. Her only concern at the moment was finding a rest area. Three cups of coffee with her hot chicken and Swiss sandwich had proven too much for her bladder, and she was having a difficult time clenching her thighs together while driving. As a green sign loomed in the distance, she crossed her fingers.
Please, oh please.
REST AREA 1 Mile
Victoria let out a sigh of relief and sat up straighter in the seat. She’d never been partial to going to the bathroom outside behind a bush. Especially alone. Remote or not, anyone could be out there, waiting for the opportune moment. She put on the blinker and slowed, taking it easy pulling into the rest area. The parking lot was empty. Not even the typical row of truckers snatching up a catnap en route was present. It unsettled her to be the only person in the vacant lot. Parking under a dim street lamp, as close to the women’s restrooms as the wide sidewalk allowed, she turned off the engine and drummed her fingertips on the steering wheel.
“Get a hold of yourself girl. You’ve watched one too many episodes of Unsolved Mysteries.”
Only a sliver of a moon peeked through the dusky sky. The drab cement building loomed in front of her. Taunting her. She’d traveled miles to find this one, so waiting for the next rest stop might be unwise. Pee her pants or use the desolate looking toilet. She took a deep breath and decided she had no choice but to go in.
She threw open the car door and made like when she was a little girl needing to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, knowing full well there were monsters under her bed. She didn’t care if she looked like a scared little girl. She dashed for the restroom, fearful those same monsters loomed in the shadows and beneath the car.
Her uncomfortable heels pinched her toes as she sprinted into the foul smelling restroom. The first three stalls were backed up and looked unpleasant. Only the handicapped stall was usable. She crossed her fingers that some elderly woman in a wheelchair wasn’t going to come in right then. Up went her skirt. Down went her black nylons and black silkies. Relief spread throughout her body.
In her haste to go, she’d forgotten to check one very important thing. No toilet paper. She sighed and reached for her purse, but remembered it was still in the car, safely tucked away from prying eyes beneath her jacket.
The sound of a car engine bothered her, but there were more pressing matters than another vehicle pulling into the rest stop. Like toilet paper. She rummaged inside the pocket of her skirt and came up with a crumpled tissue. It would have to do.
Victoria reached for her nylons and managed to make a sizable run in them. She pulled them off in frustration and shoved them in the metal box on the wall. The cruel edge of her shoes raked against the back of her ankles as she slipped them back on. Blisters were unavoidable. She got situated in her clothes, flushed the toilet and walked to the sink to wash her hands.
The reflection in the mirror displayed a tired, worn out looking woman in her late twenties, who was seriously deprived of any fun in her life. There was no reason to try and fix her smudged make-up, in another four hours she would be in a luxurious hotel running a warm bath.
Sick from the putrid odor of the unkempt facility, she hurried outside. Then her knees nearly buckled. A stranger on a motorcycle was parked where her car should be.
This can’t be happening, she thought. Her car was
gone
!
She wasn’t sure whether to approach the biker or not. In a black leather jacket, faded jeans with holes in the knees, and a look on his face that had trouble written all over it, he didn’t exactly radiate a warm welcome. Men who rode bikes were bad news. At least that’s what she’d always been told.
Anger took the place of her immediate concern and she marched up to him, propped her hands on her hips and pinned him with a glare. “Okay, asshole. Where the hell is my car?”
