Lure of Oblivion

  “We didn’t get to that part.” Ally sure was handy to have around.

  Zander clasped her nape, vowing, “I’ll kill him. When they bring him to me, I’ll kill him.” Slowly. Mercilessly.

  Gwen saw the Mercury wolves returning. “Not sure you’re gonna get the chance.” Because Rory wasn’t with them.

  As Zander turned to them, Derren said, “The asshole sped off in his car before we could get to him. No point trying to chase him—he has too much of a head start, so he’d easily lose us.”

  “Trying to snatch me was a half-assed plan,” said Gwen as Ally came to her and laid a healing hand over the punctures on her side.

  “It was a test,” Bracken corrected. He looked at Zander. “It was a test to see if you’d be upset if something happened to her. You remember the threat he made.”

  Derren frowned. “What threat?”

  “Yeah, what threat?” asked Gwen.

  Bracken explained, “When Zander refused to give Rory any of his inheritance, Rory said, ‘If you don’t give me what’s mine, I’ll take from you what’s yours.’”

  And Gwen was definitely his, thought Zander. He doubted that Rory had any clue that Gwen was his mate, but he was clearly aware that she was someone to him. “Do you think he followed us to Oregon? He could have been lingering around our territory, saw us leave, and then followed.”

  “It’s possible,” said Bracken. “Or maybe he’s here to see the attorney—Rory wanted to contest the will, right? I doubt he could. He’s probably just hoping that if he bothers you with legal shit, you’ll give in just to get him off your back. But he could have come to see the attorney, spotted us somewhere around town, seen you with Gwen, and then waited for a chance to test you.”

  Zander wasn’t sure. Right then, while the scent of Gwen’s blood tainted the air, he couldn’t think straight. He only knew one thing . . . “Rory won’t get to you again,” he promised her. “I’ll find him.”

  Shaking her head, Gwen fisted his shirt. “If you go hunting him, it will divide your resources.”

  “You think I should let this go?” he asked, voice soft and filled with disbelief.

  “Yeah, I do. Bracken said it was a test. If you don’t go after him, he’ll think this didn’t affect you that much. It isn’t all that different from me pretending to cower over the Brandt thing—which is something I’ll have to do tomorrow when I meet with Kenny. If I can do that, you can do this.”

  The problem was . . . Zander wasn’t sure if he really could. “Maybe I should take you to my pack’s territory. You could stay there.” Where she’d be safe and he wouldn’t have to smell her fucking blood every five minutes.

  “And that isn’t all that different from me going to a safe house.” Gwen lifted her chin. “I’m not leaving here.”

  Zander planted his hands on her shoulders. “Listen to me. You matter to me, Gwen. You don’t see that, I know, but it’s true. I have to know you’re safe and protected.”

  “Yeah? Then pretend you don’t give a shit what Rory did. That’s what will protect me from him.”

  Derren sighed. “I hate that she’s right, but she is. He’ll get what’s coming to him, Zander. He won’t get away with this. Not in the long run. We just have to be choosy about when we strike. Besides, one thing we can be sure he’ll do is come back—he’s intent on fucking with you. But now we know to keep an eye out for him. He won’t touch her again.”

  Sensing that Zander wasn’t even close to calming, Gwen leaned into him and slid her arms around his waist. Resting her cheek on his chest, she said, “I really want to go home. Can we make that happen?”

  Fighting to keep his touch gentle, Zander brushed her bangs away from her face. “Yeah. We can make that happen.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Kenny dabbed his mouth with a napkin and then wiped his fingers. Smiling, he leaned back in his chair and gestured from him to her. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

  No, it wasn’t. Gwen just looked at him. It was the first time that he’d spoken since they’d chosen a table. They’d eaten in silence as customers chattered, oven timers beeped, cutlery clattered, and frothing machines whirred.

  The bell repeatedly chimed as more and more people filed in. It was a busy place. Despite the long line to the register, the stainless-steel counter and bistro tables were always clean and clear of crumbs. Kenny had wanted them to meet at a local, upscale restaurant, but Gwen had declined. Instead, she’d chosen this bakery-slash-coffeehouse.

  She loved the scents here—bitter coffee, donuts, fresh bread, and the various baked goods kept within the glass case. Any other time, she would have dived on her Danish and enjoyed it with relish, but she’d only managed to eat half—and it sat like lead in her stomach.

  It was harder than she’d thought it would be to sit opposite the man in front of her and pretend she had no idea that he was an absolute monster who sponsored extremists. How Geena managed to be around him each and every day, Gwen didn’t know. But then, Geena saw something different when she looked at Kenny. She saw a father, her father. Gwen just saw a twisted asshole.

  As he’d carefully eaten his apple pie like it was a rare delicacy, she’d studied him. She’d seen Kenny several times before, of course, though mostly from afar. There’d even been times when he’d come to the trailer to speak with Hanna. The first time he’d come, Hanna had afterward said dispassionately, “That was your dad, by the way.”

  Gwen didn’t like that she had his eyes, but she was thankful they didn’t otherwise look alike. Tall and muscular, he seemed in pretty good shape for his age. His narrow face was shaven and carried scars that said he’d led a rough life. His stylishly cropped short dark hair was thin and dusted with gray; it kind of worked for him. Add in the tailored suit, and he looked more like an average businessman than a seedy, conscienceless drug dealer.

  Two of his friends sat at the table adjacent to theirs. Zander and the other Mercury wolves were sitting at a corner table, subtly keeping an eye on her. She didn’t think Kenny was aware that they were there, or that he’d recognize them if they earned his attention. Despite the large distance between the wolves and Gwen, she was quite sure that the shifters would overhear her conversation with Kenny easily enough.

  “Your mother’s mad that I’m meeting you today.” He crumpled up his napkin and set it on his empty plate. “She thinks we should leave you to have a good life.”

  Officially abandoning her Danish, Gwen picked up the porcelain mug and sipped at her milky latte. A little powdered sugar still clung to her fingertips. The tiny napkins were shit. “I came here today because you said you had something important to tell me. You said it was about Geena.” He’d said what he thought would make Gwen meet him—she knew that. Still, she needed to play the game or he’d know that Geena had warned her.

  “I may have lied about that.” The cell phone on the table chimed. He tapped the screen with his finger, quieting the device. His phone hadn’t stopped ringing since he’d arrived, but he canceled the call each time—giving her a pointed look that said this meeting was more important to him. Whatever.

  “So, what do you want?”

  He managed to look offended. “Is there something so terrible about a man wanting to know his daughter? I thought it was about time we finally met officially.” He picked up his mug. He was drinking iced tea, of all things—she hadn’t expected that. “Geena’s been better since making contact with you. Less mercurial. More composed and efficient. I like that. It made me curious about you.”

  Not curious enough for him to get in touch until he wanted something, though.

  “I recently learned that you and one of my acquaintances have mutual friends. The Moores. They’re not happy bunnies right now.”

  Good. “They’re also not my friends.”

  “Yes, I heard that you’re not too fond of the boy, Brandt, after stumbling upon him in a rather tricky situation. But you know, there are two sides to every story.”

  “Sh
ame Brandt’s a prick in both of them.”

  His mouth curved. “If he’s anything like his father, who I’ve heard plenty about, then he is a prick and probably always will be. But he’s also the son of a friend’s friend.” Kenny sipped his iced tea. “You know, I’m confused. According to Geena, you’re an intelligent girl. So why would you stand up for a shifter and, in doing so, vilify your own kind? And don’t give me something about it being the right thing to do. Ethics don’t keep people alive. Smarts keep people alive. And me, well, I’d rather you were alive.”

  Pissed that he’d pretend to care about her, she set down her mug and leaned forward. “Let’s just be honest, shall we? You don’t want me in your life. I don’t want you in mine. You’re not a faithful friend to your friend of the Moores or to anyone else. In fact, you probably fuck people over so often that you have to carry lube in your pocket. If you want me to back off, it must benefit you in some way—I don’t care what it is. The point is that you haven’t done a single thing for me in my entire life, so give me one good reason why I should do a damn thing for you.”

  His eyes narrowed, but they sparkled with amusement and . . . approval. He gave her a slow smile. “Interesting. You have spine. I expected you to be more like your mother. It’s nice that you and I have something in common, don’t you think?”

  No, she didn’t.

  “I did do something for you, Gwen. I did what your neighbors didn’t have the balls to do—I called Social Services.”

  She almost drew back. “You’re lying.” She’d always wondered who’d called them, but she’d never once considered that it could have been him.

  “What went on in that trailer . . . It wasn’t a good environment for you to grow up in.” His voice took on a haughty, judgmental tone. “I warned your mother that I’d take steps to have you taken from her if she didn’t get rid of that useless excuse of a human being. She should have put you first.”

  “But you didn’t want me either, so what makes you better than her?”

  “It was nothing personal, Gwen. I don’t like kids.”

  Well, she didn’t like drug dealers.

  “I didn’t want my kid growing up around that shit. You’d have ended up just like Hanna. Weak. Dramatic. Self-pitying.” He shook his head in disgust. “I got you out of there.”

  “Which could have been a case of tossing me from the frying pan into the fire—foster care is no walk in the park for most people. Sometimes it’s worse than where they came from.”

  “Ah, but you went to a good family. I saw to that.” He smiled at her start of surprise. “Money talks, Gwen. Always has. Always will.”

  She wanted him to be lying. She really, really did. Otherwise, she’d have to be at least a little grateful to him for her ending up with the Millers. Gwen didn’t want to be grateful to him for anything.

  “There’s nothing glamorous about your life, Gwen, but it was a good one, for the most part. You have a job, a family, friends.” He drained his cup and put it down. “So, you see, you were wrong in saying I’ve never done a single thing for you. I took care of you in my way. Granted, I did it from afar, but I still did it. I’ve never walked into your life, asking anything of you, but now I am. I’m asking you to do this one little thing for me and just alter your statement. Tell some sweet little lies for Brandt. From what I’ve heard about him, he doesn’t need you to ruin his life—he’ll manage that all by himself.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “How do I know you’re not just saying that you called Social Services so I’ll feel that I owe you?”

  “I suppose you don’t. But you could always check with Social Services. I never made any secret of my interest in being sure you were placed somewhere safe. I also didn’t call them anonymously. My name and my involvement should be on record.”

  She slowly sank back into her chair. “So you want me to cower before the Moores as a thank-you to you for getting me out of that trailer?”

  He pursed his lips. “Well, it would be nice if you did it for me purely because I’m your father, but I’d be disappointed in you if you showed any respect to someone who hasn’t earned it. So, yes, doing it as a thank-you would suit me fine.”

  “It’s not that simple. They didn’t just hurt the shifter. They invested months of their lives into fucking up my life. Brandt even came close to beating me with a bat not so long ago.”

  Kenny’s face hardened. “Did he, now? I can guarantee that won’t happen again.”

  “No, you can’t. Brandt doesn’t listen to anyone. He doesn’t heed warnings or threats. Hell, he doesn’t even heed common sense.”

  “I’ll make it clear to his family that any trouble he causes you will be revisited on all of them.”

  Since she couldn’t afford to look as though she was giving in easily, she continued to argue. “My point is that I’m not just gunning for that family because of what they did to the shifter—I want them to pay for the shit they’ve caused for me. Altering my statement and saving Brandt from the wrath of the shifter council doesn’t really appeal to me.”

  Kenny actually smiled, the weirdo. “You get that vengeful streak from me.”

  Um, no, she didn’t.

  “He’ll pay for what he did to you, and I’ll make it clear that you’re not to be harassed or touched. In exchange, you’ll change your statement. Everybody wins.”

  “Except for the shifter.”

  Kenny flicked his hand. “She’s not more important than your life, Gwen. And that’s what we’re talking about here. Your life. If you go ahead with frying Brandt’s ass, the anti-shifter extremists might find out. If they do, they will leap on the situation. They wouldn’t just go after you; they’d go after your foster family. So ask yourself, Gwen . . . is one shifter more important than the lives of you and those closest to you?”

  She gritted her teeth against the urge to point out that he could probably put a leash on the extremists if he really wanted to—telling them he’d withdraw funding would most likely go a long way toward making them let the situation alone.

  “If you’re going to keep yourself and your foster family safe, you need to take action. It’s best not to delay. I understand that you don’t know or trust me, so of course you’ll struggle with doing what I’m asking of you. But the truth is that if you change your statement, you’ll be doing it for yourself and for your foster family too.”

  For a very long moment, she said nothing. Let the silence stretch out. Ensuring that she sounded begrudging, she said, “I’ll do it. For my family.”

  He smiled again. “Excellent.” He pushed out of his seat. “It’s been nice talking to you, Gwen. I have to say, I wasn’t expecting that.” He did sound genuinely surprised. “You, Geena, and I will have to get together sometime.”

  Hell, no.

  “I’ll be in touch.” He and his cronies then left.

  Remaining seated, she watched through the window as they disappeared in a black BMW. That was when the Mercury wolves joined her.

  Zander took the chair beside hers and angled it so that his front was pressed to her side. Even sitting down, he managed to crowd her. His spread legs bracketed her chair while one arm draped over her shoulders and the other reached across her body to smooth his hand over her thigh. “You okay?”

  “Kind of.” She sighed. “I didn’t think he’d try the concerned-father routine. I thought he might play on my concern for Geena and pretend that any trouble I had could bleed over onto her.”

  Zander kissed her temple. “Instead, he appealed to your sense of fairness.”

  She nodded. “He made out like I owed him a debt, somehow sensing I was the kind of person who’d repay one.” She could see why Geena cared for Kenny—he was manipulative, played on a person’s weakness. He’d know that Geena wanted his approval, and he likely used that to keep her loyal to him. Gwen didn’t like to think of her sister being played that way.

  “I think he really did call Social Services,” said Ally. “I heard the ring of trut
h in his voice. Not that I’m saying you owe him anything, Gwen. You don’t. I just figured you might prefer knowing.”

  Gwen nodded her thanks. “It doesn’t change anything. He wasn’t a father to me. And you’re right. I owe him nothing. But he thinks I should feel that I do, so I don’t think he’ll doubt that I’m truly backing down.”

  “He’ll believe it,” agreed Zander, stroking a hand over her hair. It had been damn hard to remain in his seat, leaving her to deal with Cogman alone. He’d wanted to be close, wanted to give her support as a mate should. Instead, he’d had to watch her sit opposite that motherfucker. His wolf had growled and snarled and brooded, not wanting the male anywhere near her.

  Zander had also kept watch on Cogman’s bodyguards, wanting to be sure they didn’t touch Gwen. If they’d even tried, Zander’s shifter-speed would have had him at her side in an instant. Cupping her chin, he brought her face to his. “You won’t have to deal with him again.”

  He kissed her, and Gwen almost moaned. He tasted of cream, fluffy pastry, and sugary glaze. As he pulled back, she took a long breath and said, “So now we put the next part of our plan into action. I need to speak to Colt.”

  Zander brushed his thumb over her chin. “I’ll be with you.”

  “You can’t come into the station with me.”

  His grip involuntarily tightened on her jaw. “Why not?”

  “Because it wouldn’t make any sense for you to keep protecting me if you thought I was giving up on Andie. Colt will think it’s weird that you’d stay at my side. I have to lie to him and say that you don’t know why I’m there.”

  Zander swore, releasing her. He hadn’t considered that.

  She rubbed his thigh. “You can stay in the SUV. I’ll give some spiel to Colt about wanting to keep you guys around for my family’s sake. I’ll be okay on my own. Nothing’s going to happen to me in a police station.”