Lakota
Glancing at the phone number scribbled at the bottom, I asked, “Who’s Freckles?”
“Oh.” Her cheeks bloomed red.
I dropped my arms to my sides. “Don’t tell me. I’m Freckles?” I walked to the counter and set the note down.
“It’s just something between us that he started years ago when asking about you. Don’t be offended—you know he’s just being silly.”
Silly was one word to describe her older half brother. Not the adjective I would have chosen but fitting nonetheless. “It’s been years since I’ve seen Lakota. What’s he up to?”
“Oh, about six feet.”
“Seriously. You never talk about him anymore. Did something happen?”
She bit her lip and set the wolf down. “Promise not to say anything? It’s a secret.”
“He joined the circus, didn’t he? I knew it.” I snapped my fingers for emphasis.
Playfully pushing my shoulder, she said, “Don’t be silly.”
“No, that’s Lakota’s job.”
Hope circled her finger around the wolf’s snout. The carving stood eight inches tall, and the wolf looked like he was guarding something. “He’s been working as a bounty hunter.”
I turned to face her. “Why’s that a secret? Lots of Shifters do bounty hunter work, especially alphas and betas. Two of my uncles used to be bounty hunters.”
“True,” she said, her voice soft. “But have you ever asked them about it? Most bounty hunters keep it a secret and only tell close family members. We don’t want to put him in any more danger than he’s already in. People gossip, and since everyone knows our father, it’s the kind of thing that would spread fast in the wrong circles. Criminals like to know who all the active bounty hunters are, so it’s best not to talk about it.”
Thinking back, I realized we hadn’t spoken about Lakota much. Whenever he would come up, Hope would always change the topic. Now I understood the stress she must have been going through—always worried that something awful could happen to her brother while she was unable to talk about it with anyone. Bounty hunting was dangerous work, but it paid well in both money and experience.
“Was it your choice not to tell me or his? I thought we were like family.”
She frowned. “It’s not that I don’t trust you—”
“I’m not mad,” I said quickly, not wanting to come across as a jerk. “If it was at your family’s insistence, then I totally understand. But I just want you to know that you can trust me with anything—especially when it comes to family. We’ve known each other too long, and I don’t gossip.”
“I know that. You’re a good friend, and maybe I was wrong for not saying anything. But you were also close to your pack.”
She had me there. I loved my former pack and confided in them. Hope was probably afraid I might mention something to my mom or my aunt in a moment of weakness. And a couple of years ago, I might have. I’d never had anyone entrust me with something that big.
I looked down at the bracelet she’d given me long ago with Sister written on a metal plate.
Hope squeezed my hand. “Sometimes it’s just easier not to burden someone with secrets. I wouldn’t have wanted your family thinking you were keeping things from them. Not even my father’s pack knows what he’s doing—only family. They think he’s still living up in Cognito with his adoptive parents. It’s better this way until he makes enough money and connections to step away and do something else with his life.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul.” My eyebrows arched as the truth began to sink in. “Who would have thought? Lakota Cross, a bounty hunter. Time flies. I still remember a boy who used to play a lot of pranks.”
“He’s a man of thirty now, and we’re proud of him. But sometimes we go long stretches without hearing from him. People put hits on bounty hunters, so my mother is hoping he’ll be ready to join a pack soon. She worries so much for his safety. Lakota will make a strong second-in-command. He’s building a reputation and a savings account that any decent Packmaster would respect.” Hope glanced at the note again, her fingers tracing the numbers at the bottom. “His number changes a lot. He gives it to us in case there’s an emergency, but we never call him. One call could put him in danger, so we wait for him to contact us.”
“Sounds tough.” I gave her a tight hug. “Now I feel like an insensitive ass for making jokes about him around you.”
“You make me laugh, and sometimes I need the reminder that he’ll be free of that life someday. I wouldn’t have it any other way, Freckles.”
Shaking my head, I pulled back. “Do me a favor and don’t start calling me that.”
She tamped down a smile. “He’s never mentioned it to you?”
I patted the wolf sculpture on the head. “No. I guess if he has a pet name for me, I’ll have to think of something really special for him so that the next time he comes to town—”
“No! Then he’ll think I’m conspiring against him.”
“Conspiring to do what?”
Hope grabbed the store keys. “To ruin his reputation. Lakota doesn’t live around here, but respect is important to him. He’ll kill me if you come up with an embarrassing nickname because you read his letter. Nicknames stick and not always in a good way. Promise me you won’t do it?”
“Well, I guess it could be worse. He could have called me an eggplant.” I tugged the ends of my hair.
“Don’t be silly. That’s an entirely different shade of purple.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Why, Hope, are you being a smartass?”
“Guilty as charged.” She pulled off her ponytail holder and shook out her tangled hair. “We have a long day tomorrow. Let’s go home and order a pizza.”
Tapping my finger on the wolf’s nose, I said, “Guard the palace, boy.”
Hope snickered and strode toward the door. “That gift was Lakota’s way of telling every customer that we’re Shifters.”
“Why should that matter?”
Nearing the door, she glanced over her shoulder. “It’s his way of warning people not to mess with us even though we’re not in a pack. Wolves stick together.”
Chapter 2
Three slices of pizza and a bowl of mint ice cream later, I collapsed on our hot-pink sofa, magazine in hand. My hair was tousled and still damp from my shower, and I hadn’t bothered to change out of my white terrycloth robe and blue slippers.
It was hard to believe that just one year ago, we were still living with our packs. Shifter children grow up knowing who and what they are, but most of the kids I knew didn’t go through their first shift until their late teens or early twenties. After that, they left the pack as a rite of passage. Some mated right away, but most preferred to live on their own to prove their value in the community and sow those wild oats before joining a pack. A wolf wouldn’t be considered a rogue at that age, not until they got older and openly resisted the idea of ever joining up with a pack. Hope and I hadn’t moved until we’d adjusted to the whole shifting process. Cohabitation was essential for wolves, and we had to learn to control the shift and create a routine so our wolves could run.