Karen Whiddon - Lone Wolf

As if he sensed her thoughts, he reached over and gave her shoulder an awkward, quick pat. “It’ll probably be all right. Even though we can’t be too far, I want to keep calling her from the car. Maybe she’ll eventually answer.”

Maybe. But her jangling nerves insisted Addie wouldn’t. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

“I need to talk to her, too,” Beck continued. “She’s bound to wonder what happened to me last night. I’ve never stood her up, not once in the three years since Juliet died. If she did come to meet me, I don’t want her to worry.”

When Marika didn’t reply, he gave her a curious glance. “You and Juliet were close. What did you do to remember her death?”

The change of subject didn’t fool her. Still, because she knew she’d be of no use to her daughter if she didn’t get herself under control, she gratefully took the bait. “I tried not to think about it. When I remember Jules, I want to remember her alive. Vibrant. She was a shifter. She shouldn’t have died. You know as well as I do that most people don’t load their guns with silver bullets. I think she was murdered intentionally.” She was opening a can of worms, but there it was—out there on the seat between him.

Rather than protesting, he only gave a quick nod. “Could be. Jules never did anything to deserve death. Like you, I searched for her killers.”

“And you didn’t find them, either. At least you have your organization’s vast resources.”

“I was a Protector.” His dark tone told her what he thought about that. “I’m not anymore.”

“You resigned?”

“Yeah. I take it you’re still a Huntress.”

“Of course. That’s why I had to leave Dani—I had a mission.” A mission she’d regret to this day. “You know, maybe it’s time to think about leaving the organization. At least until Dani is grown.”

He grunted, concentrating on keeping the truck on the rutted road while flooring the accelerator.

“Dani has to be okay,” she said fervently. “She has to.”

“Think about something else.” He shot her a grim look. “Have you ever visited Juliet’s memorial?”

Somehow she knew this question was important to him. “Yes, of course I have. I bring flowers with every new season. Jules loved flowers.” She took a deep breath. “You meet Addie every year for a remembrance? Why?”

“Because she was the last person to see my sister alive.” He gave her a lopsided smile tinged with pain. “And because, just like you, Addie is like a mother to me.”

“A lot of people feel that way about her.” Again her thoughts returned to her little girl. Grabbing his phone off the console, she hit redial, listened to twenty-two rings without an answer before hitting the Off button and dropping the cell back in its place.

Beck didn’t comment. “Addie introduced us, remember?”

More diversionary tactics. Normally, she’d shy away from these types of memories. But now, welcoming the distraction, she let herself be swept along, back to the past. “Of course I remember. We met there, at her bar, on Fat Tuesday. I’d gone with a bunch of other Huntresses, and you were alone at the bar.”

“I was waiting for you. Addie had told me about you.” Though he spoke in a calm, unaffected voice, Beck gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles showed white, proving his control was as ragged as hers.

“You didn’t mind that I was a vampire, either.”

“Just like you didn’t care that I was Pack.”

“At first I did.” But then she’d seen him. One look and she’d been hooked. Bouncing along on a potholed road, she wondered if they’d still be together if things had been different. “Once I met you, that didn’t seem to matter.”

Beck glanced at her, expression serious. “We were kind of radicals, with our mixed relationship. My Pack friends gave me hell, though once they saw you, they were probably only jealous. What did your friends think of you taking up with a shifter?”

Though the speedometer inched past eighty, the landscape hadn’t changed. They were in the middle of nowhere, still miles from town and Addie’s.

“Marika?” His tone was sharp. “I need you to focus. What did your friends think of our relationship?”

Bringing her attention back to him, she understood what he was trying to do, though she couldn’t help but wonder at his choice of topic. For her, this was all still painful. She guessed that, for him, the three years that had passed had eased the hurt.

“They weren’t too happy.” She shrugged. “But what can you do? You like who you like.”

Like was putting it mildly. She’d never put into words what he’d made her feel. When she’d first seen Beck, everything else had faded into insignificance. The sight of his face, so ruggedly beautiful, had made her feel complete for the first time in her very long life.

“What about since then?” His casual voice didn’t fool her for a second. “Has there been anyone else?”

“Not of any importance. Dani has been my only priority.” Taking a deep breath, vibrating with panic, she dared to ask him the same questions. “What about you? You’ve never been in love?”

His hard look dismissed her question. “That’s not in the cards for me.”

A few more miles. A bit closer. She glanced at the phone. “Try again.”

He did, finally closing it without commenting.

She swallowed. Hard. Grasped at straws, desperate for distraction. “Me, either. I haven’t really tried. Don’t want to.”

After Beck, when their disastrous relationship had ended with his sister’s death, she’d known she’d never let herself care about anyone so strongly again.

How long ago that all seemed now. Meeting Beck that night, when his eyes had locked with hers, she’d known she’d been waiting for him all her life. She’d wanted to ask him where he’d been, what had taken him so damn long to find her. He’d brought color to her world. Everything had been gray until he’d shown up.

Now, Dani was her color, her reason for existing.

She swallowed again, awash in emotion, hovering on the razor edge of terror. Dani, Dani, Dani. Her daughter had to be all right.

“Try Addie again.”

Though barely a minute had passed since his last attempt, without questioning, he did.

A moment later he closed the phone and shook his head. “Still no answer.”

A moan escaped her. “Bloody hell. If anything—”

“No. She’s fine. I’m sure we’re worrying for nothing.” He sounded confident, certain.

How she wished she could agree. But every instinct told her he was wrong. She bit back a second moan.

“Marika, look at me.”

Slowly, reluctantly, she dragged her gaze from her intense study of the landscape to his face.

His reassuring grin took her breath away, suddenly and unexpectedly making his craggy face beautiful. “Don’t worry. Not yet. One thing I have learned in my time as a Protector is to wait until I have all the facts. Doing otherwise just brings trouble. We don’t want that.”

“No,” she said slowly. “But I can’t ignore my instincts.”

“You’d better. You know how hard it is to fight when you can’t focus.”

Damn. He was right. She knew this. “It works when you’re not emotionally involved, but this is my daughter.”

“Our daughter,” he corrected. “And you worrying about her isn’t going to help her if she’s in trouble.”

Taking a deep breath, she made herself continue to study him. Distraction, distraction. “You know,” she said slowly, considering, “I’d forgotten how beautiful you are. Does that ever get in the way of what you have to do as a Protector?”

“Former Protector. And, Marika, you can’t go around saying things like that.” His voice sounded thick. The faint reddish tinge under his skin told her he didn’t take well to compliments.