Page 72

Cameron

T he cool wind whipped around me as Nate’s bike rocketed down the highway. Rather than being afraid, I simply enjoyed the ride. Unlike my first time on the motorcycle, my fears were no longer as pronounced. There was a thrill to it, an open freedom I struggled to explain to myself.

That freedom was anchored by the warm steadiness of Nate’s body.

Arms wrapped tightly around his waist, I took comfort in being near him as the world flew past us.

Even without speaking, I felt connected to him, although there was still a weird distance between us.

Neither he nor I had truly voiced our feelings about our argument.

Too much had happened since then that needed to be processed.

The juxtaposition of feeling both close to him and far away was discomforting.

Twenty minutes into the ride, Nate slowed and turned into a side street, then pulled up at the address JC had sent him.

He flipped the kickstand down, then got off the bike and helped me.

As soon as my feet were on the ground, he started taking our things out of the saddlebags, never once looking me directly in the eye.

I stared at him, trying to mentally force him to face me, but he didn’t.

Keeping his head low, he motioned toward the apartment. “Let’s head inside. Looks like it might rain again.”

I opened my mouth to say something, to bring up the fight, but I closed my mouth, cutting off the words before they could even start. As I followed him inside, I tugged the helmet off my head.

The small apartment was clean and neat, which made me wonder why the pack had so many properties at their disposal. Either way, I was happy we weren’t hiding out in some shitty, roach-infested place.

“I’m going to check the doors and windows,” Nate said after putting our things on the couch.

He checked every entrance, jiggling locks, testing window latches, and closing all the curtains. I made myself comfortable on the couch, doing my best to relax as I watched him secure the apartment. With nothing else to do, I zoned out the events of the last few weeks cycling through my mind.

“How do you feel?” Nate asked eventually, startling me.

“I’m fine,” I said. “A lot better, actually.”

He nodded once, then continued checking every nook and cranny.

Everything about him—from his body language to the look in his eyes—told me he was struggling being alone with me.

It was no surprise since we’d said things we shouldn’t have.

It had been a big miscommunication, and I wanted him to know that I hadn’t meant what I said, at least not the way he’d taken it.

We’d talked it out a bit after leaving the clinic, but it felt like more needed to be said and done.

Words wouldn’t come, though. Maybe I could show him with my actions.

We both had past trauma to deal with. Mine came from difficulties in past relationships and now Rick. Nate’s stemmed from the abandonment that went back all the way to his childhood. It wasn’t going to be easy.

“Do you want me to order dinner or something?” he asked when he’d finished his sweep of the apartment. “I could try a takeout place.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “I’m going to hop in the shower, if that’s okay?”

“A shower?” He cocked an eyebrow, his gaze traveling up and down my body. “Now we’re talking.”

I rolled my eyes, but a pleasant warmth surged through my belly when I saw the hunger in his eyes.

“Stand down. No funny business. Just cleaning. This time,” I added, raising one eyebrow in return.

Nate lifted his hands in surrender. “I’ll try to control myself. Anyway, do you have any food preferences?” He pulled a card from his pocket. “JC gave us a pack-issued credit card and a damn big budget. Said it would make it harder for anyone to track our movements.”

“Whatever you decide is fine,” I said. “I’ll be done in a bit.”

In the bathroom, I turned on the faucet and undressed while the water warmed. When I stepped under the steaming water, I sighed in pleasure and let my mind drift.

As I lathered my skin with soap, I recalled that intense moment with Nate in my bathroom back when he was still a stranger.

I’d been so turned on that I’d dry-humped his leg until I came.

Then, I thought about how he’d taken me in the cabin—him thrusting into me, the feel of his hands and mouth on me.

Those memories sent an aching throb between my legs.

There was one action I thought might help get Nate and me back on the right foot. I imagined stepping out of the shower and strolling into the living room, dripping wet and naked. The look on his face would be worth it, and whatever came next would be more than worth it.

At the back of my mind, that amorphic voice whined in sadness and irritation that he wasn’t in the shower with me, running his hands over my wet and soapy body. My wolf. She wanted to be with Nate as badly as I did. It was still so weird having another being inside me.

By the time I was dressed and out of the bathroom, my thoughts had turned to less sexual things. Nate sat at the small breakfast nook, staring at the wall.

“Hello, spaceman,” I said, waving my hand in front of his eyes.

He blinked. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“It has,” I agreed. How had so much happened in such a short span?

“I hope you’re okay with what I ordered. I was starving and may have gone a little overboard.” He gave me an awkward and guilty smile.

Grinning, I sat down across from him. “Do I want to know? Did you order six pizzas or something?’

Nate rolled his eyes. “I’m not a frat boy. Pizza is good, but I wanted something with more culture.”

Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Flinching, I jerked my head at the door.

“Relax.” Nate squeezed my hand. “It’s the food. The two restaurants are right down the street.”

I shot him a crooked smile. “ Two restaurants? You must really be hungry.”

Shrugging, he peered through the peephole, then opened the door and took four huge bags from the delivery guy.

“Oh my God,” I said. “What did you get?”

“In my defense, I haven’t even had breakfast yet, and my appetite did most of the ordering for me.”

A familiar scent drifted up from one of the bags, and I grinned. “Are those empanadas ?”

Nate nodded. “When I saw the Colombian place on the internet, I couldn’t say no. Not quite the central Mexican fare you and your mom might be used to, but it’s got a lot of similarities.”

He began to extract containers, describing each as he set them down. “ Lechona , stuffed roasted pork. Patacones , smashed and fried plantains. They call them tostones in Cuban cuisine.”

“Fancy,” I remarked.

“I also got the beef empanadas and a tub of sanchoco . That’s like a Colombian chicken soup. It’s really good.”

“That’s only half the food. What else did you get?” I asked, digging through the other bags.”

“ Suya, ” he said, pointing out a large container. “Grilled meat skewers. Then there’s Nigerian fried rice, and some little fried pastries they call puff-puff .”

“Nigeria?” I asked, looking up at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever had Nigerian food.”

Nate gave a nonchalant shrug. “I did some work in a fairly large Nigerian neighborhood in Texas. You’d be surprised how many Nigerian immigrants live in Texas. The food is amazing, so I had to get some.”

“Well, I’m not as hungry as you are, but let’s eat. My stomach is growling now.”

My statement proved false. As soon as I had plates full of food before me, I dug in with abandon. My stomach continued to growl while I ate. I also hadn’t eaten anything since dinner the day before.

I caught myself inching closer and closer to Nate. I craved his heat and his scent. Nate didn’t seem to mind, and even pressed his knee against my leg. The warmth of his body made my head spin with memories of his lips on mine, his fingers in my hair. It was all I could do to focus on the food.

“This is so good,” I said through a mouthful of fried rice. “It’s sort of Asian, but not really. I can’t even describe it.”

Nate nodded and swallowed his bite of empanada . “That’s the best part about African cuisine. People in the West haven’t been exposed to it as much, so it’s a really nice surprise.”

While I was in the shower, Nate had turned the television on, and some made-for-TV romance movie was playing.

I pointed at it with my plastic fork. “Is this one of those Hallmark movies?” I asked with a smirk.

Nate shrugged. “I think she’s an accountant who’s moving up the ladder at her company in New York City, but she isn’t finding the fulfillment she wants and has gone back to her hometown for Christmas.

That guy is her old boyfriend. He owns a woodworking shop and is trying to show her how great life in a small town can be. ”

My mouth dropped open. “Are you into this stuff? Are you a closet romance fan?” I said, a smile beginning to form on my lips.

“What?” Nate looked both abashed and guilty. “ No . It was what was on, and I got sucked into it.”

“Uh-huh,” I said dubiously.

“Oh, whatever,” he said with a chuckle.

There was still tension, but the connection between us smoothed that out.

After a while of eating and joking, it felt right .

It felt like we’d always been doing stuff like this.

I was sure Nate wasn’t really used to this sort of domesticity.

Heck, I had very little practice with it.

As strange as it was, it was really nice. It helped give the day a nice ending.

At one point, Nate put his hand on my knee, which sent waves of heat through my body. My inner wolf let out a little yip of happiness.

The room had grown dark as night fell, and the only light came from the TV. We were finishing up the fried pastries that reminded me of donuts when the movie switched to a commercial. A man with a somber expression looked into the camera and spoke.

“Have you or a friend been involved in an accident? We can help. Terence and Kenna Law Associates are happy to assist. Don’t let insurance companies strong-arm you into taking less than you deserve. We’re here to help you fight.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “I hate these guys. Freaking ambulance chasers.”

Nate wasn’t looking at the TV, though. Instead, he was eyeing a business card he’d pulled out of his pocket.

“What’s that?” I asked.

When Nate looked up at me, the intense fervor in his eyes almost made me flinch. He got up and yanked his phone out. “I need to make a call.”

Intrigued, I grabbed the remote and muted the television to listen in on what I hoped would be an interesting call.

“Hello?” a gruff voice said after a few rings.

“Hey, this is Nate Zane. Is this Mitch? We met earlier today in the bar? You offered me a job?” Nate’s voice had a hopeful lilt to it, as if he was urging the man to remember.

“Oh, yeah,” the guy said. “I remember. Have you decided to take the job? Like I said, I can pay pretty well.”

“I want some additional info before I decide,” Nate said. “You said your cousin has been missing for a while and that you’re part of a small pack on the fringes of the Toronto pack lands, correct?”

Nate gripped the phone so hard that his fingertips were turning white.

What is happening ? I mouthed.

In answer, he shook his head and held up a finger for me to wait. I obeyed, but my curiosity was about to overflow. Nate was acting weird.

“That’s right,” the guy said.

Nate tapped the business card on his thigh with his free hand. “And can you tell me your cousin’s name? I may do some poking around for free before agreeing to take your money.”

“Oh, wow. That’s nice of you,” Mitch said. “Sure. His name is Lenny Nash.”

My jaw dropped, surprise and horror flooding my chest. Nate handed the business card to me.

Keeble and Jax Construction. Senior Project Manager Mitch Gagnon.

“Me and Lenny work together, you see,” Mitch went on. “He stopped showing up for work a few weeks back, and no one’s seen him since. I’m worried about him. It’s not like him.”

“Mitch,” Nate said. “I need to be honest with you. I already know what happened to your cousin.”

“Excuse me?” Mitch said. I could hear the confusion in his voice, along with a wariness.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Lenny is dead,” Nate said.

“Bullshit. Fuck you, you little prick. You think this is funny? Screwing with me like this?” Mitch shouted. “Lone wolf motherfucker. I shoulda known better?—”

I jumped up and snapped the phone from Nate’s hand.

“Hello, Mr. Gagnon? My name is Cameron Torres, I’m a reporter with The Toronto Chronicle .”

“What the hell is going on here?” Mitch asked. The anger in his voice was now dull and lifeless, as though it had already burned out and was fading to embers.

“I’m a reporter, I’m here with Nate,” I said. “He’s right about your cousin. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Wait… Lenny’s dead? Really ?”

Ollie had told the cops who’d arrived on the scene that he’d come upon a hit-and-run, and while he was administering CPR, Rick had attacked him.

JC’s pack members had staged the scene. Lenny’s wounds from his fight with Nate were consistent with injuries a person would sustain when having been hit by a car.

The only hiccup had been getting Ollie to the shifter clinic rather than the regular hospital.

Thankfully, JC had pulled enough strings to get a shifter EMS team to take Ollie.

Lenny’s body was now in the morgue, awaiting identification.

“Mr. Gagnon, would you be willing to ID the body at the morgue?” I asked, trying to be as judicious as I could.

“Oh my God,” Mitch muttered.

The sadness in his voice tore at me. Yes, Lenny had stalked and attacked me, but he hadn’t been in his right mind. None of this was his fault. It was all on Rick.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Uh, where? Do you have an address or anything?”

“We’ll text it to you and meet you there tomorrow morning,” I said.

“Ah, fuck.” He sounded completely miserable. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I ended the call, then quickly texted Ollie to get the address. When he replied, I forwarded it to Mitch. Nate gave me an appreciative look, and my stomach dipped.

“You handled that really well,” he said. “He was on the verge of hanging up on me. Good job.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I figure we might be able to get more info out of him in person. You can’t hang up on someone when you’re face to face with them. Maybe we’ll figure out what the hell Rick and his dad are really up to.”

“Son of a bitch,” he said with a grin. “Let’s get some rest. Looks like we’re heading back out in the morning.”