“Oh, we have our ways.”
“That’s super vague.”
“You think I’d reveal our sources to you?” The derision in his tone suggested that it had taken him a lot of effort to find out how Garreth had the book, and I wasn’t going to be the recipient of that information.
“Fine. But I was just accepted into business school. Let me go and I’ll repay you with honest work.”
The bastard just laughed. Laughed.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “You’ll do as you're told. Then maybe, if you’re lucky, your slate will be wiped clean.”
“It’s not even my slate.” I hadn’t seen my father for months before he died, and that had been a decade ago. “This is insane.”
“It’s life, honey.”
“Bastards.”
He just grinned. “Now you’re getting the picture. So, what do you say? Are you going to do it, or is your friend going to die?”
I looked at the four of them, then at the shitty bag I’d packed to resume my life on the run.
Looks like that’s not happening.
Not if they were threatening to kill Meg.
“Fine.” Saying it made my stomach turn. “I’ll do it. What’s so valuable about this book anyway?”
“Let’s just say it’s very rare.”
“So, it’s worth a ton of money.”
“Essentially.” He shrugged, as if it weren’t interesting at all.
“Fine. But when it’s done, we’re through. You and your cronies forget you ever knew my family. And you leave my friend alone.”
“You’ve got a deal.”
It wasn’t the patronizing tone that caught my attention the most—it was the look in his eyes. Like he was lying. “I need some assurance that you’re really going to let me go after this.”
The right side of his face twitched, a tic that was almost unnoticeable but revealed his irritation. And his lies.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” I said. “How do I know that—”
He took a step, reaching me in half second. Before I knew what was happening, he had his hand around my neck and my back pressed to the wall. Pressure crushed my windpipe until I could no longer breathe. My lungs burned and stars burst behind my eyelids.
Fear chilled me to the bone.
He would kill me.
Whatever power I’d thought I had here disappeared like the figment it had been. As consciousness faded, I opened my eyes. My attacker’s ugly face swam in front of me, a satisfied smirk stretching his lips into an ugly smile.
“I see you understand your predicament,” he said.
I nodded as best I could with his hand around my throat.
He released me, and I slumped against the wall, gasping raggedly through my bruised throat. As oxygen returned to my body, anger followed it. I looked up at the men who’d invaded my tiny apartment. In their nice clothes and expensive shoes, they made it seem more ramshackle and miserable than ever.
But it was mine.
This was my life. And Meg was my friend. My only friend.
If saving her meant doing this job, then I’d do it. And I’d find a way to get out from under their thumb forever, no matter how long it took.
“We’ll expect you to have the book to us within three days,” he said. “Don’t forget what happens if you fail. Oh, and don’t think you can tell Garreth Locke what’s going on. He won’t protect you, and we’ll definitely kill your friend if you try to rat us out. Same goes if you try to tip her off. We’ve got someone on her at all times, and if she changes her routine or tries to run for it, we’ll nab her.”
“You’ve covered all the bases, haven’t you?” Bitterness edged my voice.
“Oh, most definitely.” He pulled a phone from his pocket and pressed a few buttons, then turned it to face me. It was a live video feed of the outside of her apartment, clearly filmed by someone who was stalking her.
The sight solidified my determination. “I can do it.”
I watched them leave, my heart thundering. I wanted to call Meg, but I couldn’t, could I?
Garreth
* * *
I stepped out of my car, inhaling deeply of the fresh sea air that blew off Puget Sound. It rustled the tall pines behind me. My breath fogged in front of my face, condensing on the chill air.
I should be in Seattle still, but after seeing my mate, I’d needed to return home briefly.
Home.
Olympia always smelled like this, and it was the best scent in the world.
Until I’d smelled my mate.
No. I turned my mind from the thought and looked toward the moon. It hung heavy in the sky, still not full. We weren’t the sort of werewolves compelled to turn on the night of the full moon, though we did prefer to run beneath it.
Sensing the direction of my thoughts, my wolf went wild inside me. The beast was desperate to come out. To run.
I was desperate to let him, especially now that I was on the massive estate that my pack called home. Feeling the wind in my fur and the ground beneath my feet made me feel alive. Too alive, sometimes. I was afraid of turning into my father, a man who'd given in to his baser instincts at the expense of the pack.
I’d never be him.
“Later,” I murmured. I could just as easily do it now—shift and race through the beautiful winter night—but denying myself only honed my control.
After the way I’d behaved when I’d seen my mate, I needed all the honing I could get.
I drew in a ragged breath and strode down to the water. For the most part, our pack lived in the massive house that sat on the rocky cliff at the edge of the sound. The building was the size of a damned castle, but very modern, with sleek lines and huge panes of glass that provided a phenomenal view.
Golden light glowed from the windows, welcoming any wolves who would arrive later at night.
I ignored the house, however, and made my way toward the long, wooden pier that jutted out into the sound. Our access to the water was one of the reasons our land was so highly prized. That, and the fact that we owned thousands of acres of woodland that had been bespelled to be repellent to humans. As humans had multiplied across the west coast, land like ours had become insanely valuable to members of the magical community. It was one of the few places of its kind on the entire continent.
The wind picked up as I stepped onto the dock, cutting into the suit I wore. I despised the things, but they were necessary for my visits to Seattle. It helped me blend with the humans. To them, I looked like just another boring businessman.
When I was home, I preferred plaid flannel and denim. But I was only home for a short visit, so there was no point in changing.
As I strode across the dock, I passed several powerboats and a few small sailing skiffs that the pups used. I kept my gaze glued to the large wooden sailboat at the end of the pier. It bobbed on the small waves, the metal rigging clanging against the mast. The small windows shone with warm light, but the owner wasn’t inside the cabin.
She was sitting at the bow, staring out over the water toward the darkness in the distance. Her long red hair tumbled down her back, and when the wind changed direction, I could smell her magic. Lemon and grass. Not a shifter’s scent, but she wasn’t a shifter.