Rogue Alpha: Wolf Shifter Romance (Wild Lake Wolves Book 1) (18 page)

Chapter Four

“You sure you don’t want me to stop at 24-Hour
Urgent care? You might have banged your head harder than you think.”

“I’m fine.” Jake had just pulled off the Interstate
again. We made a long, slow curve, and I could see the Woodland Motel just off
the exit. It was a long, rectangular one-story motel that offered free HBO and 24-hour
room service, or so it said from the tall flashing marquis high above it. “I
really just want to get a shower and go to bed. I’ve got to deal with the
rental car company and the body shop in the morning.”

“So, where did you say you were headed again?”

I shrugged. “U. of M.” I knew I should sound more
excited when I said it. Tomorrow was supposed to be the first day of the rest
of my life, and yet I felt lost and adrift.

“Go Blue,” Jake said as he flicked his blinker on
before making a right turn into the motel parking lot. “Here’s hoping the new
guy can get that football team turned around.”

“Yeah,” I said. “My Dad was a fan.” The minute the
words came out of my mouth, I wished I hadn’t said them. I didn’t want to
answer questions about my personal life. Not with Jake. Not tonight.

“You a freshman?” Jake said as he pulled into a
parking spot.

I nodded. Jake regarded me for a moment and then put
the car in park and stepped around to get my door for me. It was sweet and
chivalrous, and I felt like an ass for just wanting to finally have a few
minutes to myself.

“You sure I can’t call someone or do anything else
for you?” Jake had the nicest puppy eyes, and it’s possible he was trying to
hit on me. I had terrible radar on that kind of thing.

The wind picked that moment to kick up again. The
Woodland Motel was aptly named. Though it faced the highway, a Denny’s, and
three truck stops, the rear of the hotel butted up against a strip of dense
woods. The tops of the tallest trees began to sway, and the temperature dropped
quickly.

“I’m good,” I said. “You’ve gone above and beyond
the call of duty as it is. Have a good night.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure. I’m just very thankful you
didn’t get hurt. It could have been a lot worse.” Jake wasn’t looking at me
when he spoke. Instead, his eyes scanned the tree line. His fingers played at the
handle of his holstered service weapon.

“Is something wrong?” I had to ask. Now that we were
away from the specter of his boss, I had more than a passing curiosity about
what had made him so angry back at the nature reserve outpost.

Jake shook his head but his eyes were still scanning
the woods. “Nah,” he finally said. “Just thinking we’re in for a monster of a
storm tonight. You’d better go ahead and get yourself checked in and stay
indoors.”

“What was all of that back there?” I said, as I
slung my backpack over my shoulder. “Was that your boss? Tuck? Is that what his
name is?”

Jake’s attention snapped back to me. “Tucker,” he
answered. “Yeah. He’s kind of in charge, yes.”

“Well, Mr. Tucker sure didn’t seem like he was a
very big fan of mine.”

Jake fixed his smile back in place. “Don’t pay that
any mind. There’s just a bunch of, uh, work stuff going on. Stressful day. Glad
it’s finally over.”

His answer was less than convincing. His guarded
posture didn’t help. Well, whatever it was, I didn’t see the need to borrow
trouble. “Goodnight then,” I said. “And thanks again for coming to my rescue.
Please don’t forget about the DNR.”

Jake’s mouth dropped then his eyes widened with
understanding. “Right. Yeah. The wolf. That’s already been taken care of. Don’t
you worry.”

“Thanks.” The memory of that poor, broken creature
flashed through my mind again filling me with that strange sense of terrible
loss. “Good night again.”

Jake slapped his hand against the side of his leg
and nodded one last time before he turned and got in his vehicle. He waited
until I went inside the lobby door before shooting me a final wave, then
pulling the cruiser out of the parking lot.

I turned and faced the desk clerk. “Had some
excitement this evening?” The clerk was a middle-aged balding man with a sour, down
turned mouth that didn’t match the friendly gleam in his deep set eyes.

I smiled. “Fender bender. Do you have a non-smoking
single?”

He nodded. “Don’t get a lot of activity here Tuesday
nights. You can pretty much have your pick.”

“How about the Presidential Suite?”

The clerk laughed and punched in an entry on his
keyboard. “Good choice. Room 124. Second door when you walk out of the lobby.
Check out’s noon and the breakfast buffet will be set up here in the lobby by
eight.”

“Sounds like heaven.” I slid my credit card across
the desk. He gave me a key card in exchange. I gave the desk clerk a weak
salute and headed out for Room 124.

The temperature had dropped probably another ten
degrees by the time I walked outside again. The wind whipped through the trees,
making them groan and howl loud enough to nearly drown out the freeway sounds.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I had the sensation of being watched. Just
like Jake had, I scanned the tree line, but saw nothing but pitch black and
shaking foliage. I fumbled with the key card and went inside, grateful for the
protection of four walls again.

I closed the door behind me and engaged the
deadbolt. I grabbed the plastic rod hanging from the corner of the bay window
next to the door and closed the heavy curtains. The room was small, square, and
clean. I had one double bed, a T.V., and a table. The only thing I cared about
in that moment was the presence of hot water. I crossed the room to the
bathroom and turned on the bathtub knobs. Water blasted out of the faucet and
turned hot almost instantly. I pulled up the metal plunger and switched the
shower on. The water pressure was hard and steady. For the moment, this was my
own little slice of heaven.

I peeled off my t-shirt and jeans. Under the harsh
fluorescent lights, I finally got a look at the damage from the accident. I
leaned across the sink and looked in the mirror. My bottom lip swelled a little
where I’d struck it on the steering wheel. I fingered my jaw and moved it back
and forth. It ached a little and I imagined I’d be sore in the morning. I had a
little crust of blood just under my nose, but I was otherwise intact.

Lucky. So lucky. It could have been much worse, just
like Jake said over and over. I peeled off my tank top and underwear, and
kicked my clothes into a heap in the corner of the bathroom. I stepped under
the shower and washed the day away. I hadn’t packed any toiletries. My plan was
to go shopping as soon as I got settled in the dorms. I’d just brought
something to sleep in, and a change of clothes in my backpack. I wanted to
start fresh. New clothes. New things. New life. I left most everything I owned
in a storage unit back in Evanston. I’d sold the house and the money from that
would get me comfortably through four years of college with what my scholarship
didn’t pick up. It was settled and arranged, and the right thing to do for all
the wrong reasons. It felt like running away, except I had nothing to leave
behind.

As the shower hit my skin, I threw my head back and
let the water soak into my hair. I should have packed some product. The little
motel shampoo and conditioner would be no match for my mass of hair. I had my
mother’s hair, dark, thick, and stick straight. I had her fair, freckled skin, and
her pale green eyes. She died when I was seven, and watching me grow into the
perfect copy of her both comforted and tortured my father.

“My beautiful Neve,” he would say. “You’ve got the
face of my Bonnie.”

My heart ached at the loss of them both now. Nobody
left but me. I was supposed to carry on for the two of them, when half the time
all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and hibernate until the grief went
away. It’s what my father had done for a few years after ovarian cancer took
Mom from us. And I was angry at him too. When he got his own diagnosis, I know
a part of him saw it as a way to get back to her. Even though he had to leave
me behind to do it.

I let out a hard breath as I fought to rinse the
shampoo out of my tangled hair. I turned toward the water and let it hit my
breasts. I swallowed a mouthful of water and tilted my head back. I did the one
thing that drove the pain away. I took a deep breath and sang my go-to warm up
piece.

“Ave Maria, gratia plena. Benedicta tu in mulieribus.”

I hadn’t done this in weeks. Months if I’m being
honest. I sang this very song at my father’s funeral mass surrounded by all the
men of his station house. I still don’t know how I got through it without
breaking down. As I hit the sweeping high notes of Gounod’s Ave Maria, a part
of me hoped my father could still hear it. My voice was clear and strong, the
acoustics of the bathroom perfect as they always are. I sang the chorus twice
then opened my throat for the final line.

“In hora mortis nostrae Amen!”

I felt good. I felt clean. The power of my voice
drove away the gloom and sadness that had hung over me since I’d encountered
the wolf, and I felt strong again. It would be okay.  I’d done what I could for
her, and I’d done what I could for my father, too. They were at peace, even
though I was still left behind.

I sluiced off the last of the soap, and turned off
the water. Blinded in the steam, I reached for the stack of towels and tucked
one around my body, and twisted the other around my hair. When I opened the
door and stepped out of the bathroom, I heard it again. The slow, mournful wail
of a creature in pain. I padded across the room and pulled back the corner of
the curtain. I looked toward the woods, expecting to see those yellow eyes
staring back at me. There was nothing, though.

I was just jumpy. That had to be it. I put on a
fresh, white tank top and pink and green flannel shorts. My stomach roiled. In
all the excitement I’d completely forgotten about dinner. I checked my phone.
It was almost nine o’clock. I thought about the Denny’s across the street, but
didn’t want to sit in a restaurant all alone. I peered through the curtain. The
rain was coming, the trees whipped into a frenzy. At the end of the sidewalk in
front of the motel, I saw the glowing lights of two vending machines.

“Carbs and sugar,” I said. “Sounds perfect.”

I grabbed the key card and five ones out of my
backpack, slid into a pair of flip flops and headed down the sidewalk.

“Damn.” I shivered as the air hit my skin. It had to
have dropped to about forty degrees. “Pure Michigan, only here can it go from eighty
to forty degrees in the space of four hours.”

My vending machine choices were limited. I opted for
a Diet Coke, cheese and crackers, a granola bar, and a bag of plain M&Ms.
When the rain finally came, it fell hard and fast. If the sidewalk weren’t
under an awning, I would have gotten soaked again in a matter of seconds. The
air was cool and clean. The scent of wet asphalt filled my nostrils as I turned
back toward Room 124. I had that strange sensation of being watched again, and
my focus went straight to the woods, but I saw nothing but the trees.

Three doors down from my room, I noticed a black
Ford Pick-Up parked on a diagonal across the lot.  I didn’t remember it there
when Jake dropped me off, and the way it was angled...it seemed pointed
straight at Room 124.

When my eyes met the driver’s, I froze. Though I’d
just met him, I’d know those eyes anywhere. Even across the parking lot I knew
that flash of flint and silver. I don’t know what made me do it. The wisest
course would have been to go back to my room and lock the door behind me. But
something drew me to him like a tractor beam.

I set the pop and candy on the sidewalk, and ran
across the parking lot toward the truck. I forgot about the rain, I forgot
about the cold. I was soaked to the bone with my hair plastered against my skin
by the time I got there. I pounded on the driver’s window with my palm.

“What are you doing?” he asked. He stared at me with
those cruel, beautiful eyes. It was the same question I had for him.

“What do you want from me?” I said, wrapping my arms
across my chest. I was fully drenched now and wearing nothing but my white tank
top. He would be able to see my peaked nipples plainly if I moved my hands.

“Go back inside,” he said, as if
I
were the
one intruding on his personal space.

“Mr. Tucker,” I said. “Is that your name? What the
hell is going on?”

“Just Tucker,” he answered. He was cool and casual
while I felt like the Earth had shifted beneath my feet.

I meant to stomp my foot in indignation, to make him
give me a straight answer as to why he seemed so pissed at me back at the cabin,
and why the hell was he here now. But he was no longer looking at me. There was
movement through the trees and when I followed his line of sight, I saw three
pairs of menacing golden eyes weaving low and drawing closer.

“Shit,” Tucker said. I stepped back as he climbed
down from the truck and slammed the door behind him. “Walk fast, don’t run,” he
cautioned in a tone not much more than a growl. He gripped my upper arm and
started to pull me with him. My flesh burned hot under his touch and I had to
almost run to keep up with his long, powerful strides. He was so big. He
towered over my 5’ 3” height by more than a foot.