Page 17 of New Blood (Werewolf Alliance #1)

“ Y ou want me to drive?” Thaddeus asked.

“You know the way,” Mason replied as they left the house. “Give me a week, and I’ll know my way around here, too, but until then, you get to drive.”

“Alright, we’ll squeeze into my car.”

“Squeeze in? What do you drive?”

Thaddeus pointed to a black sports car parked in the front driveway.

“A Porsche Boxster? Is that the new model?” Mason let his eyes roam over the sleek two-seater and whistled appreciatively.

“Yep,” Thaddeus admitted and clicked the remote to unlock the car. “Jump in.”

Mason didn’t need to be told twice. He opened the passenger side door and slunk into the leather seat that molded to his back.

He’d always enjoyed fast cars, particularly German and Italian ones, even though they weren’t always practical in a place like Montana, where an SUV made more sense due to rough terrain and snowy conditions.

Thaddeus entered the car, his tall, slender body fitting perfectly behind the steering wheel.

Mason took a moment to check him out more thoroughly.

He was the youngest of William Gallagher’s children.

According to the file that Jude had shared during the flight from Bozeman, he was thirty-two years old.

However, his fine features made him look younger.

His almost black hair was slightly wavy, his light-blue eyes striking.

Together with his five o’clock shadow, chiseled chin, and naturally red lips, he was a handsome man.

Not rugged at all, not like his own looks.

Compared to Thaddeus, Mason was the kind of guy others asked to help wrangle a horse or pull a car out of a ditch. A hands-on, always-getting-dirty kind of man with calluses on his hands. He couldn’t be more different from Thaddeus if he’d tried.

The roaring of the engine made him realize that he hadn’t put his seatbelt on, so he reached for it and clicked it in place.

When the car moved forward, his back was pressed into the seat, a feeling he’d always loved, because it reminded him of the sensation of a lover pressing him into the sheets or against a hard surface.

There was something sensual about that, and coupled with the vibrations of the Porsche’s engine, it awakened the side of him that controlled his carnal desires.

The side that was so very different from his shell, from the exterior everybody saw and knew.

There was silence between them until they left the estate behind and headed for the freeway.

“Jude called you Storm. Is that your last name?” Thaddeus asked over the humming of the engine.

“I don’t know my actual last name. I was a foundling, dumped at a ranch in Montana. Jude’s aunt and uncle raised me.”

They’d been the best parents any kid could have wanted. The perfect ones, because they’d instantly recognized him as a werewolf by his scent, even though werewolf offspring didn’t shift until they hit puberty.

“They named me Mason Beaumont, but when they realized that I was like a thunderstorm wherever I showed up, causing chaos and pandemonium without even trying, they nicknamed me Storm. Guess it stuck.”

Thaddeus gave a short chuckle. “Not the worst nickname.”

“No, not the worst.”

In fact, it had always felt like a badge of honor—and distracted anybody from figuring out what lay beneath his wild guy exterior.

To add to that, he’d cultivated his reputation as a womanizer like somebody would grow a pretty garden: planting seeds and pruning plants without ever having the desire to reap the harvest.

“How about you? Any nicknames?” Mason asked casually.

He was here not just to find out how the Gallagher businesses functioned, but first and foremost to get to know the pack members.

In his case, it meant trying to figure out what secrets Thaddeus kept that could come biting Jude and his team in the ass in the future.

Danger could come from anybody. While they’d eliminated the tip of the proverbial iceberg by killing Cameron and removing the old alpha from the equation, there could be others in the pack that had enabled Cameron and William and had no intention of changing their ways.

They were a security risk just the same.

“No nicknames.”

Was this resentment that lay in Thaddeus’s answer? He couldn’t tell for sure. Sensing that Thaddeus wasn’t interested in talking about something so personal, he decided on a different approach.

“So, shipping, huh? What made you decide to work in that business? Or was it your father who chose for you?”

Thaddeus took his eyes off the road for a brief second. “Do I look like I’m interested in shipping?”

“Got it.”

Apparently, that had been the wrong question. So far he was striking out. He searched for other topics of conversation. Maybe talk about the car again? That seemed to have sparked some interest in the unreadable werewolf with the handsome looks.

“He thought it would make a real man out of me,” Thaddeus added after a long pause. He shook his head. “Working by the docks.” He huffed.

“Wouldn’t be my favorite place either,” Mason agreed, pleased that his quiet companion seemed to start opening up.

But he didn’t want to push his luck. He could just as easily shut down again. This wasn’t a race; it was a marathon. That thought actually gave him an idea.

“I would have loved to be a race car driver. Fast cars, even faster women. Yep, that would have been cool.”

Mason looked out the window, remaining casual as if talking to himself.

“Better than cool!” Thaddeus replied, his voice suddenly more animated. “Which car would you have chosen, a Ferrari or a McLaren?”

He looked back at Thaddeus. “That’s pretty much a toss-up.

Both are excellent cars. I mean, Ferrari has a longer history in Formula 1 racing, and their style is unmatched.

Look at it, it’s just a beautiful car, but McLaren is innovative and cutting-edge.

And they’ve been catching up, making great strides in the last few years, given that they started out in racing two decades after Ferrari.

And with the right driver, McLaren will outperform Ferrari in more and more races. You’ll see.”

“So you’d go with the underdog, McLaren?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call them the underdog.” He chuckled. “They’re both powerhouses. But you’re not wrong: McLaren has fewer wins under their belt than Ferrari. So, if you wanna call them the underdog, well, guess I’m rooting for the underdog.”

“Kinda surprises me.” Thaddeus shrugged.

“Why would that surprise you?”

“You’re working for the Werewolf Alliance. They’re not exactly the Mother Theresa of the werewolf world.”

Mason furrowed his forehead. For a moment, it had felt like they’d had a good conversation. So where had this snide remark come from?

“Nobody ever said we are. We’re making sure the werewolf community’s secrets aren’t exposed to the human world.”

“And you do that by being corporate raiders? Yeah, that’s noble.”

“You see us as an organization coming in to dismantle your father’s empire to put it in our pockets? Bro, you clearly didn’t listen when Jude told you yesterday what was gonna happen here.”

“Oh, I listened. And what I heard is that Jude will have the say about everything that goes on here from now on.”

“Like any other alpha would,” Mason ground out.

“By enriching himself, by stealing what is ours, what belongs to the Gallaghers.”

“Who probably fucking stole it from somebody else!” Mason snapped, glaring at him.

Triumphantly, Thaddeus pointed at him. “So you’re admitting that the Werewolf Alliance is stealing our assets!”

Mason shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I’m talking to a fucking juvenile! Let’s discuss that when you’re grown up!”

“How dare you!” Thaddeus spat.

Mason crossed his arms over his chest and looked straight out through the windshield. Well, that conversation had gone downhill fast. And he’d probably made it even worse by accusing Thaddeus of being a child who didn’t understand what was going on.

For a few minutes, only heavy breathing could be heard in the car. Mason was fuming. He’d never had anybody get under his skin so quickly with such catastrophic results. Jude wouldn’t be happy about this development. Somehow he had to fix this, or Thaddeus would be in trouble.