The Keeping

  Ryne clenched his hands around the steering wheel. He couldn’t allow that to happen. The idea of his entire family entering into a suicide pact in order to preserve the safety of their race was unthinkable. He’d do whatever he had to do in order to save them. If need be, the secret of that location would die here in Stump River.

  *****

  Mel checked her watch. It was exactly six-thirty. She stood outside the Broken Antler and nervously wiped her sweaty palms on the legs of her jeans. Hopefully, what she was wearing was appropriate. Meeting with someone for an interview would usually call for more professional attire, but considering the location Ryne had chosen, that hadn’t seemed too suitable. Instead, she’d settled on dark wash jeans and a pretty T-shirt with some chunky jewellery for accent.

  Clothes weren’t really that important to her, but knowing you looked good and were dressed appropriately did provide a boost of confidence. And confidence was what she needed right now. She didn’t usually go into bars—at least not ones as seedy looking as this one—by herself. Hopefully, the interior was in better repair than the exterior. Taking in the faded paint, cracked cement and the burnt out lights in the sign, Mel decided the location matched Ryne’s personality—very rough around the edges.

  The man was sarcastic and rude plus she could tell he enjoyed taunting her. How she’d ever survive interviewing him, without doing him bodily harm, she wasn’t sure. If it wasn’t for the large sum of money already in her bank account, and the promise of more to come, she might actually back out. However, she’d made a deal with Aldrich and his client, Greyson, and she wasn’t a quitter. Though, as she eyed a boarded up window and the shards of glass on the ground below it, perhaps now was the time to start? She wondered if the window been broken because someone was thrown through it, and gulped at the very idea.

  A breeze swept down the street and she shivered—her denim jacket was not providing much protection against the cool evening wind. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the handle and yanked open the heavy wooden door while eyeing the antlers that hung drunkenly overhead, hoping they wouldn’t fall on her. Luckily, they only swayed slightly and Mel quickly scooted inside, not wanting to tempt gravity, nor the old rusty chain that suspended them.

  The interior of the bar was slightly better than she’d hoped. It appeared clean, though the smell of beer and fried food overwhelmed any scent of cleaning fluid that might have confirmed the fact. For the most part the decor was unremarkable and could have been located anywhere on the continent. As she’d expected, the lighting was dim, the air stale and pedestal tables with worn chairs were scattered about the large room. One wall contained a big screen TV, another had racks of pool cues and dart boards, while a bar occupied the third wall. Rows of glasses and bottles of liquor lined shelves backed by an old mirror that had seen better days. In front of the spirits, a large, dark-haired man, who closely resembled a bear in a plaid flannel shirt, stood lazily drying glasses. He was talking to the patrons who sat around the scarred wooden structure of the bar. A quick perusal told her that none of the men there were Ryne.

  Mel shifted her gaze from the room’s decor and began to examine each table, wondering if Ryne was here, or if she’d arrived before him. Seeing no sign of him, she twisted the strap of her purse in her hands, considering her options; sit at a table or at the bar? A few patrons were glancing her way with mild curiosity, but most just ignored her. Still, she felt conspicuous and moved towards the bar, eyeing a seat near the wall with a good view of the door. She’d sit there and wait for Ryne to arrive.

  Settling onto a bar stool, she smiled politely at the man beside her and then fixed her gaze on the door. Minutes ticked by and she shifted uncomfortably. What if he stood her up? She furrowed her brow. No, this had been his idea. He’d be here… wouldn’t he? Nervously, she began to nibble on her lower lip, wondering how long she should wait. Unexpectedly, a large hand attached to a very hairy arm appeared in her peripheral vision and she instinctively jerked away, spinning around to see who it belonged to.

  “What can I get you, little lady?” The bear in the flannel shirt was the owner of the arm. His deep gravelly voice had a bit of an accent, possibly French, she decided. He seemed to be looming over her and she fought the urge to cringe.

  “Nothing, thank you. I’m just waiting for someone.” Mel smiled politely and made to turn away when he spoke again.

  “And who would that be?” When she hesitated, he smiled at her revealing a mouthful of large teeth that seemed all the whiter for the black facial hair that grew profusely on his chin. “I know everyone who lives here.”

  “Er… Ryne Taylor.”

  “Ryne, you say?” He chuckled and Mel had a feeling from the look on his face that a lot of women had sat in this very spot waiting for Ryne. “Well, you won’t have to wait long.”

  “Really?” Again Mel tried to turn towards the door, but the bartender—his name tag said Armand—gently took her by the shoulder and spun her bar stool to face the far corner of the room. A movement in that area caught her attention. As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she realized it was caused by the man she was looking for. He was leaning back casually in his chair, drinking beer and studying her with an impassive expression. As she made eye contact, he nodded and took another swig.

  “Thank you.” She gave the bartender a tight smile and hopped off the stool. She could feel him watching her progress across the room, but shrugged it off, focusing on her target instead.

  Weaving between the partially filled tables, Mel wondered how long Taylor would have left her cooling her heels before coming to get her. The man really was insufferable. When she finally reached her destination, she was sure the anger inside her would have steam rising from her collar. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

  “Sit.”

  Frowning at the command—she wasn’t a dog, after all—Mel pulled out a chair and plunked herself down, all the while wondering why she was complying rather than defiantly remaining on her feet. Her temper rose even further when she noted the smirk on the man’s face. Well, she’d deal with that right now!

  “And a good evening to you, too. Why thank you. Yes, I’d love to have a seat. What a gentleman you were, to come and meet me at the bar, like that. Oh, it’s lovely to see you again, too. What’s that? The rest of my day? It was fine, thanks for asking.” Mel held a mocking conversation with herself.

  Ryne blinked and raised his eyebrows.

  “That, you insufferable jerk, is how most people start out an evening. It’s called polite conversation.” Mel chastised him, not about to put up with his rude behaviour.

  Slowly, he took another swig of beer before responding. “Well, you seem to know how it’s done all on your own, so why should I bother?”

  “Because… ” Mel stopped herself and snapped her mouth shut. He was doing it again. Getting her all worked up with his little games. She wouldn’t get caught by that again. Tonight, she was a professional. “Never mind.” Settling back in her seat, she forced a polite smile on to her face and said nothing.

  Minutes ticked by and silence reigned over the table. Ryne sipped his beer and Mel stared at the TV trying to appear as if the newscast, about a now disgraced sports figure, held her riveted. She kept her hands tightly clasped in her lap and fought the urge to fidget. Finally, relief came. With her peripheral vision, Mel saw Ryne signal the server. When the woman approached the table, Mel turned ready to greet her as a long lost relative.

  It wasn’t a long lost relative, but at that moment, Mel was sure the woman was the next best thing.

  “Hey, it’s Mel!” The server grinned and Mel grinned back, pleased to see a friendly face. It was Lucy, the waitress at the diner from the previous day.

  “Mel?” Ryne looked at her incredulously. “That’s the name of a guy who comes to fix your toilet.”

  “No it’s not. It’s a perfectly respectable nickname for Melody.” Mel defended her name hotly while Lucy lightly hit him on
the head with the menus she was holding.

  “Ouch! Cut that out, Lucy.” Ryne grabbed the woman’s wrist and took the menus from her. “That’s no way to treat a customer. You keep that up and I’ll complain to Armand.”

  “Armand won’t do anything; I have him wrapped around my little finger. You just be nice to my friend, Mel.” Lucy didn’t seem in the least worried by Ryne’s threat. She pulled her wrist out of his hand, planted a quick kiss on his cheek, and sashayed away, calling over her shoulder. “If he gives you any trouble, you come see me Mel.”

  “Thanks, I will.” Mel felt considerably better after the exchange and turned to face Ryne. This time she was the one smirking. Knowing that she had an ally in the building gave her more confidence. He was staring at her again, but his expression seemed friendlier than it had when she arrived.

  “Mel.” He seemed to be trying the name out as he looked at her. Finally, he shook his head. “Nope. You just don’t look like a Mel. To me, you’re a Melody.”

  “You and my mother.” Mel sighed.

  “Your mother?”

  “Yeah. My mother’s sort of a free-spirited, hippie type. She was going through a song writing stage when I was born and decided to call me Melody.”

  “I like it.”

  Mel blinked, surprised by the sincerity of his comment. “Well… that’s good, I guess.” She giggled as a thought struck her. “I suppose I should be thankful that Mom wasn’t in her sewing and quilting stage at the time or I might have been called bobbin or thimble.”

  Ryne’s rich chuckle ran over her like a warm breeze and his countenance suddenly seemed less imposing. Mel felt the tension easing in her shoulders and she smiled as she looked at the man seated across from her. Here was the man that Beth and Ruth had been talking about—the sexy, charming heartthrob that had put the female population of Stump River into a stir. His eyes were twinkling and his grin showed off white teeth, which contrasted wonderfully with the stubbly shadow that was appearing on his lower face. It was enough to melt the coldest of hearts; Mel felt hers give an extra thump and suddenly her mouth seemed dry.

  Thankfully, Lucy returned with cutlery and glasses of water. As the waitress took their orders, Mel had a chance to compose herself. Ryne might be hot, but he also seemed arrogant and she had no intention of feeding his already inflated ego. Having managed to get herself under control, and with the ice broken between them, they settled down to some friendly banter as they watched TV and ate. Mel made her pitch as to the benefits of an interview and Ryne asked friendly questions about her life. By the time they had finished eating, Mel decided that Ryne could be reasonably polite if he put his mind to it. Maybe interviewing him wouldn’t be quite the ordeal she’d imagined it would be.

  When he excused himself from the table, she watched him cross the room, her chin propped in her hand. He really did have a nice tight rear, she thought to herself.

  “Mighty fine butt, eh?” Lucy nudged Mel, shaking her out of her trance. The waitress had come to clear the table and must have noticed the direction of Mel’s gaze.

  “What? Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Mel felt embarrassed, recalling that Lucy already had dibs on the owner of the fine butt.

  “Sorry for what?” Lucy glanced her way while gathering their dirty dishes onto a large tray and wiping down the table.

  “Well, for… you know.” Mel shrugged. “I mean you and Ryne… ”

  Lucy chuckled and sat down in Ryne’s seat, propping her feet up on an empty chair from the next table. “Listen Mel, Ryne is a good looking man. If you didn’t notice, I’d have to wonder about you.”

  Mel relaxed, happy that Lucy didn’t think she was trespassing. “Thanks for understanding. Have you known him long?”

  “Ever since he moved here back in November.” She reached out and stole some popcorn from the complimentary basket on the table. “I still remember the day he and his two friends—Bryan and Daniel—walked in. Everybody in the whole place just sort of froze and stared, women and men alike. Ryne stood looking around the room—I swear he made eye-contact with every person there—and then he just ordered three beers, walked over here and sat down like he’d always lived here. After a few minutes, everything returned to normal. It was sort of weird, you know?” She shrugged and crunched more popcorn.

  “I agree. That was sort of strange, wasn’t it? I mean, I walked in here and no one noticed.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know what it is about those guys, but they sort of command attention, especially Ryne. Bryan too, but in a different sort of a way. Daniel’s still young, but he gets his fair share of respect as well.”

  “Daniel? I haven’t met him yet.”

  “Oh he’s a real sweetie. Kind of quiet, but really nice. He looks to be around eighteen, I’d say. Works part time at the lumber yard, so does Bryan, for that matter.”

  “And Ryne? How old is he?”

  “That I do know!” She winked knowingly. “We… er… celebrated together a few weeks ago. He just turned twenty-seven. I’m not sure how old Bryan is.”

  “I met him the other day outside Ryne’s place. He seemed friendly.”

  “Oh, he is and he has a good left hook on him, too.”

  “Left hook?”

  “Yep.” Lucy picked up Ryne’s glass and took a sip. She glanced at Mel and winked. “Ryne won’t mind sharing.”

  Mel was anxious to hear more about Bryan fighting—after all if she was going to be interviewing Ryne, she’d be around his friends and if they were violent, she’d like to know. “So, Bryan fights a lot?”

  “No, not really. It was just that one time, but it was mighty spectacular. They’d been here about two weeks and it was a really busy night. A group of bikers had stopped in and were hanging around the pool table, giving all of us girls a hard time. One of them wouldn’t leave this one girl, Annie, alone, so I went over there to try to help her, but the guy just shoved me away and his friends grabbed me. I called out for Armand, but suddenly Ryne and Bryan were there. Bryan slugged him and sent him through the window—that’s why it’s boarded up now.”

  Mel was sure her eyes were the size of saucers. The pool table was at least six feet from the window. She could just imagine how hard Bryan must have swung to move a man that distance. No, on second thought, Lucy was probably exaggerating. Most likely the fellow was standing in front of the window to begin with. Still, she was curious to hear about the rest of the encounter and prodded for more details. “And what about Ryne?”

  “Well, somehow he managed to take out the two who were holding me. It all happened so fast, that no one could figure out what happened, exactly. One minute the guys were grabbing at me and the next they were flat out on the ground. And Ryne didn’t even have a scratch on him.” Lucy shook her head, obviously still in wonder at the occurrence. “Anyway, the other bikers were just sort of frozen, like they were really scared. They just backed out of the room and drove off, leaving their friends behind. Then Ryne and Bryan helped clean up the mess, dragged the two that were on the floor outside and made sure Annie and I were okay. Armand let us leave early. Bryan drove Annie home, and Ryne walked me home… ” Lucy grinned. “I gave him a big thank you once we got to my place, if you know what I mean.”

  Mel did know what she meant and again wondered why the idea bothered her. She wasn’t a prude. People had sex; she knew that. It was just… She struggled to explain it, but came up empty.

  Chapter 13

  Ryne stood in the darkened hallway that led to the bar’s washrooms. He had a perfect view of Melody or ‘Mel’ as she called herself. He snorted. It was a ridiculous name for a female and she was definitely a female. The way her jeans clung to her ass and her t-shirt stretched over her breasts, left him in no doubt of the fact.

  He’d planned on being as rude and sarcastic as possible this evening, goading her into getting mad and stomping out or at least rethinking wanting to interview him. But then Lucy had come over and he’d heard the name ‘Mel’ and… Well… His great inten
tions had somehow been sidetracked. She was proving to be pleasant company, and seemed genuine in all that she said. There was no hint of deception about her tonight. Maybe he’d been wrong this afternoon when he thought she was hiding something—he hoped he was. Melody was sort of growing on him. His wolf rumbled in agreement.

  Right now, Lucy was talking to her. He strained his ears, trying to make out what they were saying over the blare of the TV and the laughter of the crowd at the bar. Unfortunately, there was too much background noise for that to be possible. Narrowing his eyes, he considered his next move. He was still concerned about the possible implications of her being in Stump River, but a voice inside his head hinted that sending her away so quickly wasn’t in his best interests. Getting to know your enemy was always a good strategy and if she wasn’t here, who knew what she’d be up to? No, keeping her in Stump River, where he could keep an eye on her, was a better plan.

  He’d managed to find out a bit about her, interviewing her without her being aware. She was working her way through school, her car was on its last legs, she lived by herself, and her only relative was a mother in Florida. There was nothing apparently threatening in what he’d discovered so far, but he tucked the information in the back of his mind for future examination.

  Lucy was leaving the table now. Ryne knew he’d have to return soon or Mel would think he’d run out on her. Running out wasn’t what he planned on doing. No, he was going to stick extremely close and find out what she was really up to. He’d decided to grant her an interview—an edited version of course. In that way he’d be nearby in case—he didn’t want to think too deeply about that right now, but as Alpha he needed to face reality and so forced himself to continue the thought—in case something needed to be done. The idea of carrying out the Keeping was no more palatable now, than it had been earlier on.