Brazen (10 page)

Twenty-one

Nick

Vanessa may not have had any experience with one-night stands, but that certainly didn’t mean she was inexperienced. If anything, he mused later, the fact that she was accustomed to long-term relationships seemed to actually have its benefits. You could get away with lazy or inattentive sex on a one-nighter. With a long-term partner, more skill was required…and the time to develop that skill was provided. In short, it was the best blowjob he’d had in years, and when she finished, he showed his appreciation by reciprocating, which she certainly seemed to appreciate in return.

Now they were in bed, finishing a room service breakfast and struggling to keep their attention on the topic at hand—planning their next move. Or Nick was struggling. The food had helped as a temporary distraction. He’d been starving, and since Vanessa knew what he was, he didn’t have to hold back. He’d gotten two breakfasts, eaten them both, and she’d only teased about a werewolf’s legendary appetite.

The meal over, they’d started planning, and that’s when the food settled and he noticed Vanessa was wearing the panties and shirt again, the blouse left unbuttoned, modestly hanging almost closed, but with enough of a gap to tease whenever she moved. She looked even sexier now, sated and smoky-eyed, lounging in the bed, completely at ease.

“The problem is finding Malcolm,” she said. “We can’t in a city this size. We know he’s around, and you suspect he’ll make a move for me—”

“He will.”

“Which leads to problem number two. With that phone scrambled, he’s not going to find
us
either.”

She shifted, blouse falling open, revealing a generous curve of breast and—

He pulled his gaze away.
Focus.
What had she been saying? Right, the phone. 

“Should we unscramble it?” he said. Before she could answer, he shook his head. “No, obviously not, or it’ll bring those werewolf hunters running.”

“Also Malcolm would smell a trap.”

“True.”

She reached for her own phone, blouse stretching open now, one breast showing, nipple partly erect and—

“We kept the phone so he could call,” Nick said quickly. “Can we call him? I know the number was blocked but…”

“That’s just what I was checking,” she said, tapping her phone. “I set someone on it last night, reverse tracing the number. Still nothing, but that’s still our best bet. The trick, again, is how to work it so he doesn’t smell a trap.”

Nick shook his head. “No, the trick is to let him smell a trap, but one as clumsy as he expects from me. One he figures he can easily thwart.”

“Okay, let me grab my book. I brainstorm better on paper.”

She climbed from bed and crossed to her bag. When she bent over it, her blouse fell open and rode up to her waist, her ass on full display, those tiny white panties covering just enough to—Nick took a deep breath and tried to steer his thoughts elsewhere. It didn’t work, probably because he was still looking. She rummaged through the bag, full breasts hanging free, ass moving as she shifted, inviting him to rip off those panties and—

She straightened and turned. “Okay, I—”

Her gaze dropped to his crotch, cock straining against his boxers. A slow grin. “Should I bend over again for you?”

He let out a low growl. 

Her grin grew. “That legendary werewolf appetite isn’t just for food, is it?”

He said nothing as she walked back to the bed, an extra swing in her hips, blouse left half open, eyes glittering with the confidence of a woman who knows a man’s watching her and that he’s enjoying the view immensely.

She stopped at the side of the bed. “We do need to get to work, however inconvenient the timing. That leaves two options. Either I get dressed. Or I…” Her gaze dropped to his crotch. “Take care of the problem I caused.”

“I’d hate to ask you to get dressed.”

She laughed, eased onto the bed and tugged down his boxers with one hand. The other hand reached in, her warm fingers wrapping around—

The phone rang.
His
phone. 

“It’s mine,” he said as she paused. “Just ignore…” He struggled to finish the sentence.
Ignore it. Keep going.
But it could be Malcolm. Or Elena. And he shouldn’t be…

Ah, shit.

“Answer,” she said, pulling up his boxers. “I’ll give you a rain check. Redeemable at any time, any place.”

She grinned wickedly, and the thought of all the places he
could
redeem that rain check gave him pause. It also made him think whoever was calling could wait a few minutes. But Vanessa was already handing him his phone from the nightstand. When he saw the number, he swore. Reese. It
could
have waited.

No, he realized with an inward sigh, it couldn’t have. Even if he’d known that it was almost certainly nothing more urgent than, “Hey, where’d you put the TV remote?” it didn’t matter, because it
could
be more urgent, and there was no way he was focusing on sex while worrying about that.

He answered.

“Okay,” Reese said. “I give up. I need an address.”

Nick flipped to his messages, seeing if he’d missed a text. He hadn’t.

“What?” he said.

“I’m breaking down and admitting that I’m a lousy detective. I can’t find you. I need an address.”

Nick went still. Before he could ask what the hell Reese meant—
and please don’t let it be what it seems to be
—Reese continued, “I’ve been here for two hours. I’ve called every bloody four-star hotel and even a few of the threes. I’ve used your name and both your aliases. My master plan to show up on your doorstep has failed.”

“You’re in Detroit…?”

“Um, yeah. Kinda the gist of what I was saying.”

“What the hell are you—?”

Nick clipped his question short. As he paused, Reese continued, talking fast, rambling, as if he could distract Nick from the why with details of the how, explaining that he’d told Antonio that Nick called and said Reese could join him on his mission, so he packed a bag and drove to Detroit overnight. He’d then spent the last few hours trying to figure out where Nick was staying.

“You told Elena, right?” Nick said. He knew the answer, but he asked anyway.

A long pause.

“Let me rephrase that,” Nick said. “You
asked
Elena. That’s a statement not a question, because she’s the Alpha, and you would never do something like this without checking with her, and if you have, then Clay is going to kick your ass all the way back home, not just for acting without checking, but for being so damned disrespectful that you didn’t even think to ask.”

Silence, then a quiet, “Shit.” A pause. “Should I…? I’ll call her now.”

“Where are you?”

“Some diner—”

“Where
exactly
are you. Name and location.”

The pause seemed to get even longer this time, though the question was a simple one. “What happened?” Reese said finally.

“Give me the damned address.”

Reese did.

“Now stay there. Understand? Do not leave that table, not even to take a piss. I’ll be there in half an hour, and I’d damned well better find you still in that seat.”

“Um, what’s up?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Sure. I just…” 

Reese trailed off, and Nick could hear the concern and uncertainty in his voice, as he had when Nick first demanded the address. Yes, at home, Nick set the schedules and the boundaries, and he doled out the punishments, but he never snapped orders or raised his voice.

“Just stay there,” Nick said, taking it down a notch. “Whatever happens, remain in that seat.”

“I will.”

Twenty-two

Nick

Nick drove as Vanessa gave directions from her phone. He could feel her casting worried glances his way as she’d been doing since he’d hung up and started getting dressed. She’d figured out what happened from his side of the conversation. She’d said little since. Worried he’d bite her head off, too? Thinking now that maybe he wasn’t such a nice guy after all? Later, he was sure he’d regret not explaining, but right now, it didn’t seem important. It couldn’t be important.

“I know you’re worried,” she said finally.

He grunted an answer.

“I’m trying to figure out how to say this without pissing you off even more…”

“Left or right,” he said, waving at the road, which ended ahead.

She checked. “Left.”

Silence until he made his turn.

“It’s a city of a million, Nick. I know you realize the chances of Malcolm finding him…”

She went quiet. Nick kept his gaze straight ahead, but his gut churned. If Malcolm found Reese… He clenched the steering wheel. Going after Vanessa would be a dagger to Nick’s back. But Reese? That would be standing right in front of him and driving the blade through his heart. Given the choice, there was no question who Malcolm would pick. 

“He won’t find him,” Vanessa said, her voice low. “You know that. Not this quickly. He’d need to know Reese was here, and start looking, and even then, Reese would have to do something stupid, like check into a hotel under his own name. He just got here. He drove around in his car, then he went for breakfast. Malcolm cannot find him.”

Silence.

“Nick…”

He eased his foot a fraction off the pedal.

“He’s Australian, right?” Vanessa said.

Nick glanced over sharply.

“I’m trying to distract you,” she said. “If you want me to shut up, tell me to shut up. But this will go better if your blood pressure is lower by the time you get there. So, if you can, tell me about Reese.”

He did, awkwardly at first, spitting out a few facts, then relaxing and talking—maybe even bragging. He didn’t reveal anything too personal, but he did talk.

“And there are two more, right?” she said. “Morgan and Noah?”

“You did your homework.”

A wry smile. “I was hoping to seduce you, remember? In retrospect, I think I’d have gotten further talking about your kids not your conquests.”

“They aren’t—”

“I know. They’re not
your
kids. They aren’t even kids, technically. But they’re your family of choice.”

He managed a faint smile. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a choice. They landed in my lap and were stuck with me.”

“But you chose to take them in. To give them a home. Three total strangers.”

Nick shifted. “Noah wasn’t—”

“I know. He’s the son of an old friend. But you know what I mean. You just don’t like taking credit.”

“Because I didn’t do anything to deserve it. We have money. We have a big house. I have time for them. I wanted to do this. It was my choice, and I don’t think I’ve ever made a better one. I’m not cut out for children. I realized that when Elena and Clay had the twins. This is right for me.”

A moment of silence, then she said, “Make a left up here.”

He turned, then said, “You’ve got my background info. I don’t have yours. Ever been married? Any kids?”

“No and no. Too busy for both. I have a niece who lives with me, though. Her mom died of cancer five years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It was hard, for both of us. My sister was my best friend. Sophie and I have been close since she was born, so that helped. Dawn’s death just brought us closer.”

“You adopted Sophie?”

She laughed. “No, nothing like that. Dawn was five years older than me, so Sophie was past the age of needing to be adopted. She stayed with her dad until she came out to Boston U and moved in with me.”

“You live in Boston?”

“I do.”

He found himself mentally calculating the distance. A four-hour drive from the city, but only three from their place.

Vanessa continued, “I know, I don’t have the Boston accent. I grew up in Newark. Yes, I’m a Jersey girl. I kept the hair, but I managed to lose the accent, thankfully long before that show started.”

“Show?”

“If you don’t know it, I’m not mentioning it. Now, you’ll want to turn right at the next light. Then we’re only a mile away.”

He eased back into his seat. “Tell me about Sophie.”

She grinned. “Happily.”

She did, with as much pride as he’d talked about the boys. By the time she said, “That’s it, up there on the left,” he was relaxed and ready to handle the situation calmly and rationally.

“Thanks,” he said as he pulled into a parking spot.

“Anytime. Now let’s scoop Reese up and get him on a plane home. By then, my resources should have a phone number for Malcolm.”

Twenty-three

Nick

They were a couple of blocks from a hotel where he’d stayed with the boys when they’d visited the Detroit auto show so Noah could choose his first car. Nick figured this was Reese’s last attempt to find him—stop at the hotel and see if he could pick up Nick’s scent. When he hadn’t, he’d gone for breakfast.

It was actually in a suburb of Detroit, like almost all the city’s best hotels. This suburb had been around for decades and had weathered the economic woes gracefully. The road looked like any other well-to-do suburban street, with people bustling about. Or driving about, as the case was. It wasn’t a walking neighborhood. Reese must have walked, though, at least from the hotel, because Nick saw no sign of his car. That got his heart speeding up, even as he knew Reese would rather trek a mile than drive it.

“He’s fine,” Vanessa murmured, as they waited to cross the road. “There’s absolutely no way that Malcolm…”

She trailed off. Nick followed her gaze to see three men getting out of a pickup with Ohio plates. It was the same truck he’d outmaneuvered last night.

“That’s not poss—” 

She cut herself off and reached to grab Nick’s arm, but he already had hers, tugging her back between a truck and a van. Nick double-checked the plate number. There was no question. It was the hunters from last night.

“Stay here,” he said. “Cover my back while I go—”

“No. They followed you. They must have. You can’t lead them to…”

Again she trailed off. This time, Nick didn’t need to track her gaze because they were looking at the same thing—the hunters, as they headed straight for the restaurant. 

“How the hell—?” Vanessa began.

“My phone. Somehow they intercepted Reese’s call and tracked his cell here. Or they listened in and heard him tell me where he is.”

She shook her head. “I’m betting on a supernatural explanation. A clairvoyant on the team or shaman or maybe—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Nick said. “I’m not standing here until I figure out
how
they found him. They did.”

She caught the back of his shirt before he could leave.

“Reese is still fine,” she said. “They won’t touch him in there.”

“I’m—”

“—going in after him. I know. And I won’t try to stop you. It’s not like I could even if I wanted to. I’m just asking you to take thirty seconds to plan your next move.”

“I won’t know that until I get in there,” he said. “See the layout. See what they’re doing.”

She nodded. “Fair enough. Swap phones with me then.”

He glanced down at her as she held out her cell.

“Take mine so I can contact you,” she said. “I’ll take yours so I can call Reese and let him know what’s going on before you get in there.”

Nick handed her his phone. The hunters headed into the restaurant without a backward glance. He followed. 

•••

Nick had told Vanessa he couldn’t formulate a plan until he got the lay of the land. Not entirely true. It was only the specifics he needed more data for. The general plan was simple: get Reese the hell out of there.

Reese didn’t look up when Nick walked in, meaning Vanessa had indeed warned him. He sat across the restaurant, drinking a Coke and doing something on his phone—or pretending to. The hunters had taken the booth right behind him. Their heads were together as they talked. They didn’t look up either.

Gaze still fixed on his phone, Reese gestured with his free hand. It took a moment for Nick to realize what he was trying to communicate.
Sit down. Wait.

Nick hesitated, then slid into a booth, positioning himself so he could see Reese but the hunters couldn’t see him.

Vanessa’s phone pinged. Nick glanced down to see a text from Reese.

They’re figuring out how to take me out. Consensus seems to be following me back to my car.

Not surprisingly, then, the hunters didn’t know a lot about werewolves—at least not enough to lower their voices.

Nick texted back.
Head to the restroom. I’ll confront them. You slip out.

Reese looked over and mouthed, “Seriously?”

Nick glowered at him. Apparently, he wasn’t very good at the expression, because Reese seemed to be stifling a laugh. Reese shook his head and texted.

I’ll leave, but only to lure them out. You follow. I’ll give them a convenient dark alley to jump me in. We jump them. Find out who they work for.

Nick paused. He could feel Reese watching him.

Another text pinged.
I’m not a kid, Nick. You, me, your spy friend against three of them? Easy odds.

Nick replied,
It’s not them I’m worried about.

Reese paused, then he sent back
, You saw Malcolm out there?

No, but he’s keeping an eye on the situation. If he’s here—

Nick stopped. He didn’t send the message. Instead he flipped to send one to his phone, for Vanessa. A simple,
Everything okay?

His heart pounded as he waited for a reply. When none came after ten seconds, he called. The phone rang. And rang. And went to voice mail.

Nick scrambled out of the booth. It took him all of five seconds to realize what an idiotic move that was. He scrambled up, the hunters spotted him and everybody went still.

The three hunters stood frozen, their mental wheels turning as they figured out their next move. Reese was looking at something across the restaurant. Nick started for the men. Reese swung out of his booth, yelling, “Gun!” and grabbing the nearest hunter by the arm—the arm that was under his jacket, holding his weapon.

The gun flew out. People screamed. Reese grappled with his target, the gun hitting the floor. One of the other hunters just stood there, slack-jawed. The other whipped out his gun. Nick dove for him as he heard a shout from across the restaurant, “Drop your weapons! Police!”

Nick hit his target as he saw two men jump to their feet. Neither was in uniform, but both had service revolvers trained on the combatants. Detectives. Reese must have spotted the guns or overheard something that gave them away.

 Reese gave a werewolf-strength heave and threw his target toward the detectives. Nick was still grappling with his. He snapped the hunter’s arm. The man yowled. His gun fell. Nick grabbed him by the jacket and threw him to the cops.

Nick and Reese turned on the third hunter. Behind them, the detectives tried to tell everyone to stand down, drop their weapons, get on the ground, but there was only two of them, busy subduing two big men. The third hunter hadn’t pulled a gun, and the detectives seemed to decide Reese and Nick could handle him.

Nick took a slow step toward the hunter. He turned and ran for the back door.

“Bring Vanessa around,” Reese said to Nick. “I’ve got this.”

Nick shook his head. “Stay with me. I think Malcolm’s here. Vanessa’s not answering—”

“Then go get her.”

“It could be—”

“—a trap. I know. I’ll be careful. But if Malcolm sees me
with
you…”

Reese was right. As much as Nick wanted Reese at his side, he was safer if he wasn’t.

“I’ll get what I can from that fuckwit,” Reese said. “You find Malcolm.”

Nick nodded and took off.

•••

Malcolm had been there. Nick could smell him outside. Put that together with Vanessa clearly not being where she should be—or answering her phone—and Nick wasn’t pissing around untangling scents to confirm his suspicions. Vanessa would never chase Malcolm if she spotted him. Not after last night. Malcolm must have taken her. And if Nick was going to get her back, he couldn’t be crouching on the sidewalk. He needed a shortcut.

He strode into the first empty service lane, found a spot behind a parked delivery van and took off his clothing to begin his Change. Was it the safest spot to do it? Nope. Did he give a shit? Nope.

Nick was never speedy at his Changes, even at the best of times. Unless he was at a Meet, or spending time with Elena and Clay, he rarely did it more than the twice-a-month minimum required by Pack law. 

The rule was meant to reduce the chance of having a Change come on you at some dangerously inconvenient time, but Nick never had that problem. He did, however, have trouble Changing fast when he needed to, and halfway through, he realized he’d been too hasty, not thinking it through. Would the change in form give him enough advantages to outweigh the delay? He hoped so, because going back now would take just as long.

He finished his Change and struggled up. His legs wobbled, exhausted from the strain, accustomed to a few minutes of rest afterward. He didn’t have a few minutes. He closed his eyes and gave himself a muzzle-to-tail shake. There was always some adjustment—to being on four legs, to a black-and-white world, to the sounds and scents that assaulted him from all sides. He snorted, exhaling hard and pawing the ground, getting his bearings as fast as he could.

As he turned to go, Vanessa’s phone rang. There was no question of checking it—even if he wasn’t in wolf form, he’d shoved his clothing into a recycling bin, under a layer of shredded paper, the phone in his pocket. He did pause, worrying that it was Reese, needing him. Or Vanessa. But he couldn’t risk changing back.

The phone stopped ringing. Nick took off.