The Legend of the Werewolf (9 page)

"Having a rich pack master who can hide
everyone so easily, will do that." Anne said, popping her back and
glaring. "Might as well stay awake since you ruined my
nap."

Mike refused to feel sorry for her lack of
sleep. Though, in the time it took for him to have his long shower,
her hair did twist pleasingly around her head. Which meant she
hadn't been doing as much sleeping as tossing around.

Pleasure bubbled inside him at the
thought that he could keep her awake like that.

"Besides,” she said. “I was hoping
you'd stick around."

"Why would I do that?"

"Aside from the obvious, where if we let
you go you'd be dead before you could make it across the
state?"

His face twisted. Her humor was not
appreciated.

"Fine," she raised her hands, "calm down.
I was just thinking about it and wondered if, even if you don't
believe you're our first—"

"I'm not."

"Then you could still play the part for
a bit."

The statement knocked him back a step.
"What?"

She got to her feet and went to sit at
the table. She held a finger to her lips.

He took the hint. The wolf at their
doorstep was to be ignorant of their discussion. He walked across
the room, pulled out a chair and sat across from her.

Annie leaned across the table to whisper
to him, like they were a pair of thieves in the night getting ready
for a smuggling run. "Alright, listen, I know you don't want to be
here, and I'm sorry for that. But, if even a few people think
you're the first, they will stop at almost nothing to make sure you
get whatever you want."

He rested his cheek against his fist.
She might as well have told him she was a leprechaun and wanted to
give him all her gold. "Including sending me home?"

She bit her bottom lip, as though she
didn’t like that idea. "If there are enough of us to escort you
safely, then, yes. They might send you home."

His shock must've showed on his face
because Annie snorted back a laugh. "See, I'm not so bad after all.
All you have to do is play the part."

Suspicion still loomed heavily inside
him. Mike couldn't bring himself to trust her. "Why are you telling
me this?"

She looked towards the door, then
lowered her eyes. "It's not that I don't trust Brock, I just want
him to be able to deny this."

He waited while she took a deep breath and
looked him back in the eyes. "You said it yourself, that we all
seem to treat Gordon pretty good. Better than how a normal pack
master is treated."

"He's like nobility."

She waved it off. "We're mostly about
tradition here. Anyway, if the members of this pack even assumed
you're the first werewolf, they’d treat you like a king. And, if
you told them to call off my marriage to Westley ..." She trailed
off, letting him piece together the rest on his own.

He grinned wickedly, impressed and
aroused. "Very clever. So that day in the bar, you never thought
for a second that I was really a reincarnation of
anyone."

She shook her head, grin quirking her
lips. "Actually, I did."

Mike's mouth dropped. His arousal
deflating.

Annie sighed. "Look, you won't find a
crescent birthmark anywhere on me. I wasn't born a wolf, but I
still believe in this as much as anyone who is. Grandpa raised me
on that story."

Mike leaned back in his seat,
considering her words. "You realize that of the five werewolves at
this ranch, apart from yourself, no one believes I am the first
werewolf. Even if there were more, I can't just all of a sudden
start spouting out how I think I am this person."

"You don't have to. The stone and a
Warlock out to kill you is all you need. Don't run around saying
you are. People will think you're crazy.”

“Oh, of course they would. That is the
logical reaction.”

She narrowed her eyes but otherwise
ignored his sarcasm. “Just don't flat out deny it when someone asks
you if you are."

Mike tapped his fingers on his knee. "Tell
them there's a chance that I could or couldn't be, that
it?"

She snapped her fingers, excitement
gleaming in her eyes. "Exactly."

“Hmm.” Her plan was well thought out.
Just a few small holes. "And the lack of people willing to
help?"

"Gordon told me that he's going to call up
a few members of the pack, people he trusts. Something like this is
just too big to keep from everyone. Those few will probably come
here to see you. That's another three people at least. Chris is
coming for sure, add myself into the equation, and we might be able
to overrule Gordon's decision."

It didn't solve his problems, but it did
encourage him to have a little hope about being stuck
here.

Would it work though? More people who
thought he was this mythical person might hinder his plans to get
off the ranch before someone got hurt.

But, if they were so willing to do as he
asked …

Taking his grin as a sign of his
compliance, Anne stuck out her hand. "So, you’ll help me
out?"

Mike wrapped his larger hand around hers
and shook. According to her, he would be getting a safer trip home.
Which, in turn, would get him to the backup he needed to make an
arrest a lot faster.

Plus, he would
help her to escape a
marriage she didn't want with a man she considered a
brother.

Leaving her open for what he had in
mind.

"With incentive like that? I’ll settle
down and live here for as long as you need me."

***

Anne couldn't believe her luck. She'd
begged Gordon to let her out of the marriage. Then schemed with
Westley. Then she prayed.

At least one of those efforts
was worth something
, she thought, stepping out of the shower and into the
fresh clothes Brock delivered.

She would have asked her grandpa, but
didn’t think he’d want to hear that she was showering and changing
in a cottage with a man she barely knew just outside the
door.

However, b
eing up all night, the fight
with shadows, and the heat pressing under her belly every time she
was in the same room as Mike, drained her. The cold spray woke her
up.

That night outside the bar when she saw
the moon stone, she was so sure that Mike was the first of
them.

Now that he denied it, not so sure, but
with her new plan he didn't have to be. All he had to do was play
the innocent fool and she was home free.

It was the epitome of brilliance and, yet,
so simple she didn't know why she hadn’t thought of it before. She
mentally pat herself on the back.

The shock of cold water and excitement
acted like five gallons of caffeine injected directly into her
bloodstream. There was no way she would sleep now.

She gave herself a once over in the
mirror. Her hair was wet, leaving it heavier and darker and, though
she didn’t have any mascara to put on, she thought she looked
pretty good in her tight jeans and ruffle top.

Would Mike think so?

She shook her head.
Not
what she was
supposed to be thinking about.

If he’s the one, he’s
taken.

She exited the tiny room with the
oversized bed that was supposed to be Mike’s during his
stay.

He spotted her, pulled away from the
cabinets he was searching through, and stared.

Despite having no make-up on, Anne
blushed.

Shit. Say something, say
something!
“Find whatever it is you were looking for?”

He didn’t take his eyes away from her.
“No guns, no phones, not even a current newspaper.”

The sound of his voice suggested that
he didn’t mind.

She swallowed and moved toward the
door. “Well, you’ll get those things when the others get here.”
Though she had no idea who they’d be or how many.

H
is eyes were still following her, like
she’d put on something for prom.

“
Do you want a tour of the ranch
while we wait?” She asked. “We could come back and get something to
eat after.”

Fire lit up behind his eyes. "That
would be great."

The sexual buzz in the air disappeared as
plans came to her. "Perfect. This could be good to show Gordon that
you won't try to run. Get on his good side and all. Then, maybe, we
can get that moon stone in your hands. See if anything happens when
you hold it."

"And if nothing does?"

That thought already occurred to her
and didn't make her sweat. "Still wouldn't prove that you aren't
the first."

Mike opened the door. Brock lay curled up
with his furry rust colored back to them, his ears perking up when
the door opened. He growled again.

Mike kept still, as though he weren't
sure what he should do.

Anne smirked and stepped right over the
mass of hair. "We're going to walk around. You can come if you
want."

The giant reddish-brown wolf leapt to his
feet and followed behind her. Mike shut the door and followed the
wolf.

Anne looked behind her and saw the
line-up they made. She laughed. "Brock, he can walk beside
me."

Brock lowered his head and let out a
disagreeable growl, but did step out from between them.

"Thanks," Mike muttered, his eyes
searching the grounds with sudden interest.

Anne turned her face into the sun and
stuck her hands in her pockets. This was a nice way to
relax.

She opened her eyes and smiled as her
guest took everything in. His ten gallon hat suggested that he
either used to live on a ranch and had been away from one for some
time—he did say he was from Griffon City after all—or was just one
of those guys who liked the way he looked in it.

His stride relaxed as he observed the
buildings. His body melted from the tense human being he was when
he tried to talk his way out of being their hostage, to a man who
felt more at home. Anne knew right then that he was a country mouse
and not a city one. Why did he make the switch?

"What do you raise here?"

"Horses." Mike’s eyes lit up and Anne knew
she found an opening to ask. "You strike me as the cowboy type."
She lifted her arm and flicked his stiff, black hat. "Did you work
ever on a ranch?"

The light clicked off. "I used
to."

She wanted to turn that light back on,
but stumbled in the dark looking for it. "Oh, well, what
happened?"

He shook his head.
"Nothing."

Knowing she would get nothing more out
of him, Anne decided to let it go.

Up ahead, the sight of Westley in his
work boots, jeans, and old t-shirt with the little guys made her
forget about Mike's mood.

"There they are!" She ran to the
weathered wooden fence and hauled herself up on it to
stand.

Mike's mouth dropped. "Those are your
horses?"

"Aren't they amazing?" She waved high in
the air. "Hi, Westley!"

He looked up, saw that he was being
watched, and sent a limp wave back before returning to the
miniatures either galloping around or standing at his feet begging
for attention.

"He's a little shy," she said to
explain Westley's anti-socialism.

She glanced at Mike and laughed. The
shock on his face didn’t go away. "Not the kind of horses you're
used to, huh?" She loved shocking people like this. No one who met
Gordon—cold, hard, Gordon—expected him to be dealing with miniature
horses. Somehow they got it in their heads that a man of his wealth
and personality would only deal with proud stallions.

Mike shook his head, then leaned
against the fence as one of the horses came to inspect
him.

"Hi, Bella." Anne cooed, delighted when
her big, brown eyes looked up at her. She flicked her head and Anne
reached through the fence to scratch her neck.

Mike reached his large hand through too
and gave the little, white horse a pat. "I won't be riding you,
that's for sure."

Anne burst out laughing. "If you tried, I
think you'd kill her."

She laughed again, ignoring the plain
irritation on his face. By that time, Westley worked up the courage
to come forward.

"We didn't get a proper introduction,"
he said, reaching his hand out. "Westley Stone."

Anne beamed with pleasure when Mike
took the hand without hesitating. "Mike Carter."

Then Mike blinked and released the
offered hand, staring down to make sure Brock was still with them.
Anne looked down too, searching for the source of Mike's sudden
discomfort.

Brock was still there, sticking his
muzzle through the fence to nudge at the younger miniatures back to
their mothers. They stubbornly refused to leave and kept returning
to be prodded by his wet nose.