Page 22 of Diners, Damsels & Wolves

Twenty Two

Clarissa

“ W hat are you doing here?” Sylvia demanded.

“Working,” Clarissa said.

“No, you shouldn’t be here. Donna said you’d be out for a few days.”

“No, I can’t. I need to work; I need something to keep me busy. I can’t just sit there and worry about it. I can’t. I need a distraction.”

“Okay.” Sylvia pulled her into a hug. “Do what you need to do, sweetie. Do you need a place to stay? What about clothes?”

“I’m crashing at Jeff and Eugene’s. They have like a million nieces, and they all brought over some clothes for me.”

“That’s good. Oh, you poor thing. Well, at least things are going well with Mister Good Samaritan. How was the picnic?”

Clarissa frowned. “Umm, well, actually … it didn’t go too well. I sort of told him to leave me alone for a little while.”

“Do you need to talk about it?”

She shook her head.

“Okay, then let’s wait some tables, huh?” Sylvia asked.

Clarissa nodded, eager for the breakfast rush to start—anything to divert her thoughts.

Hours later, the morning and noon rush had passed. Officer Sara was the only one in the dining room. She was wearing her beige cop uniform and had a mountain of paperwork with her. She’d been parked at her table for hours. Clarissa had her sleeves rolled up, vigorously cleaning anything she could get her hands on, the satisfying burn of bleach filling her nose.

The front bell jingled. She turned, eager for something to do. Her heart caught in her throat, then sank. Maria came in, flanked by two men. The broad Hispanic one Clarissa recognized as Samuel, Maria’s husband, and a tall one built like an Olympic swimmer with curly brown hair down to his shoulders. She was sure she’d seen him at the picnic. Was it a mafia requirement to be freakishly tall?

Maria sat at a table, leaning back and rubbing her belly. Clarissa went up to her. Folding her arms over her chest, she said, “I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Thomas doesn’t know I’m here. Emmanuel, Sam, do you mind? Go sit over there or something.” She scowled at the men until they sat in a booth at the other end of the room.

“That’s better.” Maria smiled. “Would you sit with me?”

The way she said it reminded Clarissa how Tom had asked her the same thing so long ago. Looking at Maria now, Clarissa couldn’t help but see their similarities: the angle of their noses, the freckles scattered across their cheeks, the same warm brown eyes. It hurt more than she thought it would.

“Listen, Maria, it’s nothing personal, I just don’t …”

“I’m not here to try and convince you to get back together with Tom. It’s about the fire, you need to know.”

“No, I don’t want to hear this,” Clarissa said. “I don’t want to know any more about your family business or the … dealings you have with other family bosses.”

“Wait, what?” Maria furrowed her brow.

“I’m not interested in protection from your family boss or his goons.”

“Clarissa, what do you think we are?”

“I’m not—Listen, the less I know, the better. That way I won’t have to lie to the cops. I already promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. Why was Maria talking about this in the open? Didn’t she see there was a cop sitting a few feet from her? “I know Tom offered me ‘protection,’ but I’m not interested. I don’t want to meet any more bosses or hear anything about your dealings or business.”

Maria gasped. “Oh no, they called him and the others ‘boss’ at the picnic, didn’t they? Do you think we’re in organized crime?”

“I don’t want to know anything!”

“Oh no, oh, Clarissa, you’ve got the wrong idea. I thought you knew the truth. This would have been so much easier to explain if you knew the truth. Oh, those idiots! This whole thing could have been avoided.”

After rubbing her temples, Maria grabbed Clarissa’s hands and pulled her down to a seat.

“Listen, you’ve got it wrong. I can’t tell you the truth, you really need to hear that from Tom. But what I can tell you is that you are in danger. The fire, that wasn’t an accident, and neither was the fire that killed your parents.”

“What?” Clarissa stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Please, you really need to talk to Tom. Try to come by the family house later today. He’s working nights so he’s asleep right now, but just try to get there before sunset, okay? Promise me you’ll think about it.”

“Maria.” Sam came over. “We need to go.”

“Alright.” Maria let Sam help her from the chair while Emmanuel held the door open.

Clarissa watched them go. She was even more confused. What the hell was going on?

* * *

Sitting in the window, Clarissa watched raindrops run down the glass of Jeff and Eugene’s family room. A heavy mist hung over the gravel. Rays from the sunset caught in the droplets painted everything in a hazy orange glow.

She’d gone to the hospital to visit Rachel after work. They’d taken the tubes from her throat and she was semi-awake, but she had no idea who Clarissa was. She’d stayed there for two hours, and nothing changed.

Resting her head against the cool glass, she squeezed her eyes shut. She was exhausted. Drained to the point of dropping physically, mentally, and emotionally.

She wanted to cry, to eat a bucket of ice cream, and to sleep for three days straight. Most of all, she wanted Tom.

The music from The Barrel vibrated up to the second floor. It shook her and made her head hurt. She’d debated going to bed early, but the music would be just as loud in the guest room.

Getting up, she grabbed her hoodie and purse. She needed to get out of here, if only for a little bit. Starting up her car, she drove to nowhere in particular.

What was she going to do?

Rachel.

Her home.

Thomas.

Did she believe Maria? Was there more to the fires than she knew? Had she truly misunderstood what Tom was?

Admittedly, she knew almost nothing about organized crime. She’d always assumed mob bosses would be violent and volatile; bullies with pinkie rings and greasy mustaches in pinstripe suits. Was that Tom?

In her heart, she knew it wasn’t. He was kind, patient, and adoring. Everything she never knew she needed. She felt complete when she was with him.

Then she’d let her walls down, only to get clobbered by the pain of reality. This wasn’t a fairytale; the good Samaritan who’d saved her wasn’t a knight in shining armor there to sweep her off her feet. Real life was messy and complicated. The more vulnerable you let yourself be, the worse it hurt. Was she willing to take that risk with him again?

Part of her wanted to. Part of her wanted to lock the door and toss away the key. But the biggest question still remained; if Maria was telling the truth, then what was he? And what did this have to do with the fires?

Clarissa couldn’t make any decisions about anything until she knew. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t , open her heart and soul to him again without knowing. She was done being beaten down by life, disappointment, and abandonment. She had to know the unfiltered truth, no matter how much it hurt.

The back roads gave way to a familiar driveway. In the distance, she could see a massive three-story brick house on a sprawling lawn, illuminated in full silver moonlight. There was a litany of cars parked in the lot and lining the long drive. She wondered if the out-of-towners from the picnic were staying here. The house was certainly large enough.

Making her way between the parked vehicles, voices echoed. She followed them. Getting closer, she saw Tom and a group of others standing on the side lawn illuminated in yellow light from an open garage door. Creeping between the cars, she got closer.

“We won’t be able to track much of anything in this weather, boss.” It was Emmanuel, who’d escorted Maria to the diner.

“We would only be able to find them if we crossed paths directly.” It was Atticus, another boss from the picnic. “We would be able to stop another attack if we were close enough, but we will not be able to find the bears’ den in the rain.”

“They could be using the rain to their advantage,” Tom said. “They could do a lot of harm with our guards down for one night. I don’t want to take that risk. The people of this town deserve better from the Sinclaire pack, that was the mistake my grandfather made when he was Alpha. I won’t be following in his footsteps.”

“Then it’s agreed,” Sara the cop said. “Tonight, we patrol our territory. When the rain stops, we begin the hunt again.”

“We run in groups no less than four,” Tom said. “If you run into trouble or catch a fresh trail, you howl. The others will find you.”

“Agreed,” Atticus said.

Clarissa’s mind spun. Nothing they were saying made any sense. Why were they looking for a bear den?

Her eyes bugged. Were they stripping? What the hell was going on, were they going bear hunting naked? Was this some kinky game?

When everyone was bare, they moved away from the open garage, further onto the lawns. Creeping out from the cars, the wind tickled her face, tossing her hair back.

They’d stopped walking, standing apart from one another. Squinting, she tried to see. There in the distance, was that a bobcat? No, it couldn’t be; it was far too large, and it was standing on two legs. Wasn’t that where one of Atticus’s men had just been standing? But then, there, where Sara had just been, a sandy-colored … What was that?

Her eyes found Tom, and the blood drained from her face. Limbs going numb and heavy, she couldn’t move. Her mind blanked as she watched; she couldn’t process what she was seeing.

His legs grew longer, his body broader. A thick covering of maroon fur grew along his spine, moving outward to cover his body, thick around his shoulders and neck. Only it wasn’t his body anymore. He was almost ten feet tall, standing on haunches instead of legs, a thick tail swishing between them. His hands were clawed and gigantic. His face turned into a short snout with large canines, his ears pointed.

The wind billowed around her, changing directions. Her hair whipped into her face as it gushed against her back. The creatures before her all went rigid, sniffing the air.

The monster that had been Tom turned. Large yellow eyes locked on her. She’d seen those eyes before. When Alister attacked her.

Alister. The attack. Her heart squeezed with panic. Stumbling backward, her chest heaved.

The creature moved toward her.

Turning on her heel, she ran. Navigating the maze of parked cars, she scrambled back to her Taurus. She heard the sounds of running coming up behind her, large feet displacing chunks of pea-stone in the driveway. Then it dimmed. Something was still chasing her, but it was smaller.

“Clarissa!” Tom bellowed. “Clarissa, wait!”

Slamming her door shut, she turned the key. A naked human Tom was running after her car. Pulling the gear into reverse, she floored the gas.