Lure of Oblivion

  He cocked his head. “How’re things?”

  “Good.”

  Rory’s eyes cut to Bracken, who was pointedly ignoring him—something he’d been doing since they were kids. Rory’s mouth tightened at the clear dismissal, but he slid his gaze back to Zander and said, “I’m glad to hear it. Things are good on my end too. Work is good, life is good. I actually have plans to expand my business.” He talked about his job, boasted of his new contracts, spoke of his “newest piece of fluff”—his words.

  He was so caught up in chatting about himself that he didn’t notice the bored look Bracken exchanged with Zander, despite the enforcer not being the least bit subtle about it.

  The opening of a door was soon followed by footsteps shuffling down the hallway. Finally, a suited middle-aged male appeared. “Zander and Rory Devlin?”

  “That’s us,” Rory confirmed with a smile as they walked toward him.

  Zander took in the male’s scent. Fox shifter. His wolf growled; he wasn’t a fan of foxes.

  “I’m Edward Simpson, your uncle’s attorney.” He shook each of their hands, his expression sympathetic. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Rory swallowed hard. “Thank you. We’ll miss him.”

  Bracken snickered only loud enough to reach shifter ears, and Rory’s face hardened as he tossed the enforcer a dark look that was completely ignored.

  Rory turned to Zander. “I’m surprised Jesse’s not here to console you too.”

  Zander didn’t rise to the snarky remark, which only pissed the prick off.

  Edward cleared his throat. “Please come with me.” He led them down a hallway and into an office. With its white walls and gray carpet, the room was sterile. It was also obsessively tidy. Each item of stationery seemed to have its own place on the desk. The stacks of papers were perfectly aligned beneath the dolphin paperweight. The files and binders on the shelves were in alphabetical order.

  There didn’t appear to be even a speck of dust, and Zander got the feeling that the attorney would have an aneurysm if he found one. Maybe that was why the guy had a stress ball next to his coffee mug and why the astringent scent of hand sanitizer was so strong—fairly drowning out the other smells of paper, ink, and coffee.

  Edward gestured at the padded plastic chairs opposite his desk. “Please sit.” He then moved to the file cabinet, on which a framed photo of a woman and two children rested. Pulling out a slim folder, he closed the drawer.

  Tension stretched the air taut; Zander and Rory remained so still that only the whirring of the fan and the shuffling of papers could be heard.

  Sitting, Edward rolled his wheeled office chair closer to the desk and opened the folder. “I realize that reading the will aloud in an attorney’s office isn’t how things are usually done anymore. But your uncle was adamant that he wanted things handled this way. He attached a letter to his last will and testament, and he asked that I read it aloud first.”

  Rory leaned forward, but Zander didn’t move.

  “To my niece and nephews,” began Edward, “you may be wondering why you’re now sitting in my attorney’s office. Well, it is as simple as this—I knew that someone would be unhappy with the content of the will and most likely claim that the copy they received in the post was a fake. This way, you will all know that you each received the same copy.”

  Rory tensed, smart enough to sense that was a jab at him.

  “I have many regrets,” Edward went on. “Mainly that I sat around, waiting for my true mate to stumble into my path. It was a stupid move, considering shifters don’t always recognize their mate at first glance, but I was so sure that I would know instantly. Maybe she did cross my path, maybe she didn’t. In any case, I have spent my life relatively alone, and now I have died alone.

  “I encourage you all not to wait around as I did. Find your own path to happiness, and walk down that path whether it leads to your true mate or not. Love and best wishes, Dale.” Edward lowered the letter to the desk.

  “Touching,” Rory bit out.

  “Yes,” Edward agreed. “Your uncle didn’t own any physical properties, but he received the same payment upon his death that all in his pack receive so that they may leave some for their families. Dale split it as follows . . .”

  As the attorney read out the will, Zander briefly closed his eyes. He should have seen it coming.

  “A dollar,” said Rory, voice strangely calm. “He left me a dollar.”

  The attorney licked his lips. “Yes.”

  Rory jumped to his feet, hands curled. “Is this a fucking joke?”

  Edward shifted in his seat. “He felt that you wouldn’t need money, since you were your parents’ sole heir.”

  “So, he did this to piss me off. He divided everything between Zander and Shelby to piss me off.” Rory whirled on Zander. “Are you responsible for this? Did you convince him to change his will before he died?”

  Utterly calm, Zander said, “You’re judging me by your standards, Rory.”

  Expression sour, Rory pointed at himself. “I have every right to a portion of that money. I earned it.”

  Something about the way he said it made Zander realize . . . “You spent time with Dale near the end, didn’t you? Helped him out? Did him favors?” Rory was manipulative and smooth, but Dale was far from dumb; he’d obviously known what Rory was doing.

  “Oh, I helped him. Even wiped the old bastard’s ass at one point. He owed me. You owe me. You’d probably be either dead or on dialysis if I hadn’t given you that kidney.”

  With a bored sigh, Zander stood up. “Are we really back to that again?” Even his wolf was bored of that.

  “Just give me half of what he left you. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  “You really need it that badly?”

  “I told you, I want to expand the business.”

  “So, it has nothing to do with your gambling debts? Not that paying them off will really help you. You’ll just put yourself in more debt.” Zander knew that Rory was a compulsive gambler with a bottomless greed that couldn’t be satiated.

  Rory’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You owe me.”

  “Nobody owes you anything, Rory. But that’s your problem—it’s always been your problem: you think the world and everybody in it owes you. Fucking grow up.”

  A cunning glint entered Rory’s gaze. “Maybe Shelby will go into business with me.” It was a veiled threat—if Zander didn’t yield, he’d turn his attention to Shelby.

  “You’d have a hard time getting to her. She’s part of a different pack now, and it just so happens that her Alpha hates you. He won’t let you near her, and you know she doesn’t leave her territory.”

  Face flushed, Rory stepped toward him. “If you won’t give me what’s mine, I’ll take from you what’s yours.”

  That was supposed to scare him? Zander inwardly snorted. “Don’t be a prick all your life, Rory.” With that, he strode out of the office and into the reception area. He almost felt bad leaving Edward alone with Rory, who was now shouting his intention to contest the will.

  Bracken rose to his feet, brow cocked in question.

  “I’ll tell you in the SUV.” Once inside, Zander switched on the engine and, as they drove back to the B&B, explained what had happened.

  “A dollar?” Bracken echoed, amused. “Somehow, that’s more insulting than leaving him nothing.”

  “I’ll have to tell Shelby what happened and warn her that Rory might try to contact her.”

  “What do you think he was talking about when he said he’ll take from you what’s yours?”

  “Don’t know.” But since Zander didn’t own anything that particularly meant anything to him, he wasn’t concerned about the threat. “It was probably just Rory chatting shit—he’s been doing that since he learned to talk.”

  “Good point.”

  Later, when they were back on the balcony of his room at the B&B, once again surrounded by the sounds and smells of the marsh, Zander called Nick and pu
t him on speakerphone so that Bracken could be part of the conversation.

  As Zander told the Alpha how Dale had divided the money, Bracken shook his head in amusement—still tickled by the matter.

  “How did Rory take it?” There was a smile in Nick’s voice.

  “Not well,” said Zander. “Expect some trouble. Tell the others to look out for him—he could turn up at the club or the motel and act like an asshole. He won’t do anything major like attack anyone, but he will fuck with you if he can.”

  “All right, we’ll be on the lookout for him. What time will you be back tomorrow?”

  Zander exchanged a look with Bracken before speaking. “There’s a situation here at the B&B.”

  “What kind of situation?” asked Nick.

  Zander explained, and the Alpha swore viciously. “Gwen looks worn out by it all,” Zander added. “But she’s still not folding.”

  “We plan on offering to stay and give her protection,” announced Bracken.

  There was a long pause before Nick spoke. “I don’t like it, Bracken. We’ve had peace for months now. I don’t want us to lose that.”

  “The pack as a whole won’t be affected,” said Zander. “We’re not proposing taking her to our territory. We’re talking about extending our stay at the B&B. If something happens while we’re here, we can intervene.”

  “She doesn’t need protection from shifters; she’s up against her own kind, not ours,” Nick pointed out.

  “Yeah, and she’s up against her own kind because she’s helping one of ours,” said Bracken. “It would be all kinds of wrong to walk away from that when our very presence could make them hesitate to harm her. If we went home and then later found out something had happened to her, I’d feel like a complete bastard.”

  Nick sighed. “They might not have any intention of harming her. They may just stick with trying to scare her.”

  “You’re right,” allowed Bracken. “If they don’t try to harm her, great—it means we weren’t needed. We’d just like to be here in case we are.”

  “Is there something else going on that I don’t know about? You seem pretty insistent on helping her.”

  “Neither of us are involved with her, if that’s what you’re asking. She’s not my or Zander’s type. She has gorgeous eyes, though. I’m not really a guy who looks at eyes, but they’re a seriously striking blue—if you saw them, you’d know what I mean. Great legs too.”

  Clenching his jaw because, yeah, he didn’t like hearing Bracken talk about Gwen’s eyes or legs, Zander said, “Gwen’s situation is bad. The humans trying to intimidate her are rich and have the kind of social power that allow them to go unpunished by the local police and judge, so they’re not likely to help her if these bastards step up their game. She needs protection. Maybe if she has it, the victim will feel safe enough to come forward again.”

  “I don’t like to bring up bad memories, Nick,” began Bracken, tone sensitive, “but think about what happened to Roni.” Nick’s sister had almost been gang-raped by humans long ago. One of the bastards had recorded the foiled attack, and that footage was later featured on a fucked-up website where prejudiced humans uploaded videos of crimes against shifters and actually rated them. “It’s not the same as what’s happening here, I know that. You saved Roni; you had evidence to prove their guilt. But let’s say that Roni hadn’t had any help that day; let’s say that there was a witness who was being harassed into backing off. Wouldn’t you like to think that someone would have stuck up for her?”

  “Gwen’s not your sister,” the Alpha rightly pointed out.

  Zander balled his hand up into a fist. “But my sister was shot, and you know how that turned out.”

  “So, in a sense, this is about Shelby.” After a long moment of silence, Nick exhaled heavily. “I’ll allow it, providing you agree to keep me updated.”

  “That we can do,” said Bracken.

  “For the record, I still don’t like this. Nonetheless, I’ll back you on it. But only to a point. If things get too bad up there, you both need to come home. That’s not a negotiation.”

  Bracken nodded. “Agreed.”

  “Good. Remember to keep me updated.” The line went dead.

  Leaning back in his chair, Zander tapped his fingers on the table. “I thought he’d put up more of a fight.”

  Bracken pulled out his own phone. “Nick’s a good guy. He’s also practical enough to know that Shaya would guilt-trip him into letting us stay if he didn’t consent.”

  Watching Bracken’s thumbs flying over the screen of his cell, Zander said, “You’re texting Shiloh again, aren’t you?” The female margay shifter was Harley’s cousin.

  Without looking up or stopping texting, he said, “Presumably, you’ve noticed she spends most of her time on her phone.” He lifted his shoulders. “How else am I going to seduce her? Technology is my way in.”

  “Why would you put so much effort into seducing someone who doesn’t like you? It’s not even personal—she doesn’t like anyone.”

  Bracken’s mouth quirked. “She’s warming up to me, I can tell.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “The majority of her responses are threats and offensive comments.”

  “And you find this positive?”

  “You’ve met Shiloh. She takes aloof to a whole new level. Instead of ignoring me, she insults and threatens me—she’s trying to push me away. I’m telling you, she’s warming up to me.”

  “Whatever. I need to call Shelby.” Zander dialed her number, but he didn’t put the call on speakerphone this time.

  “Hey,” she answered softly.

  “Hey. Thought you might want to know what went down at the attorney’s office. It turns out that Rory was helping Dale, spending time with him, trying to win his favor. Apparently, Dale didn’t deem that help as worth anything more than a dollar.”

  “Oh, God,” Shelby muttered, amused.

  “The rest will be split between you and me.”

  “I’m guessing Rory lost his mind.”

  “You guessed right, so it’s probably good that you weren’t here.”

  She took what sounded like a cleansing breath. “Enough about that. Tell me what’s been going on in your life.”

  They talked for a while. He didn’t mention the Gwen situation, knowing Shelby would likely see how it paralleled her own—he didn’t want to drag up old memories for her. Once Zander had ended the call, Bracken spoke.

  “Well, I guess we should go find Gwen and offer our protection. You know, I can’t help wondering . . .”

  “What?” prodded Zander.

  “I know what drives us to want to help her with this complex situation. But what drives her to want to help the shifter? Because considering the pressure she’s under and how unsafe she must feel, there has to be something big driving her.”

  He’s probably right, Zander thought. And now he himself was wondering the same thing.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When the doorbell chimed, Gwen’s stomach rolled. And she hated that. She shouldn’t be anxious in her own home. She shouldn’t react so strongly to the simple matter of someone being at the freaking door.

  Although she very much doubted it was Brandt, since he surely wasn’t stupid enough to announce his presence, she nonetheless slipped her hand into her pocket and fished out her knuckle stun gun before opening the front door. Her shoulders relaxed when she saw a familiar female who was biting her lip.

  Stepping inside, Julie wrapped her arms around Gwen. “I know you didn’t want me coming here in case I got caught in any cross fire, but I had to see you. Chase won’t like it, but you’re my sister.” She glanced around, almost as if she expected him to jump out any second. She didn’t fear Chase, but she disliked disappointing him.

  “Let me just shut the door.” Gwen closed it, tucked her stun gun in the pocket of her jeans, and then led her sister into the spacious living room. “You didn’t need to come here. I’m okay, Jules.”


  “Of course you are,” she said with a smile as they both sat on the sofa. “I’ve never known you to be anything else.” She lowered her voice as she added, “I’m ashamed to say that, in your position, I probably would have backed down and changed my statement.”

  “You’re not weak, Jules.” Fragile in some ways and a little dependent, but not weak.

  Julie shook her head. “Well, I’m not strong. Not like you. We had similar childhoods, but you let it make you stronger.”

  Gwen’s gut burned at just the mere mention of her childhood. Flashes of memory flickered through her mind, despite fighting them. Her stepfather beating her mother, Hanna, with the satellite dish. Her mother cowering in the corner as he whacked her over the head with their anemic Christmas tree. Her stepfather shoving her out of the trailer so hard that Gwen banged her head on the cement block, just so he could “nail” her mom in peace. Bleeding, head throbbing, Gwen had sat outside among the broken bikes, empty cans, wrecked furniture, old tires, and foul-smelling trash . . . and it hadn’t even occurred to her to ask for help, because no one would have given it.

  Gwen pushed the memories away. “We both left our personal hellholes long ago. None of it matters now.”

  “It’ll always matter,” she said softly. “That kind of thing stays with you. Our moms were abused, but we were victims in our own way. How many times did you clean your mom up? How many times did you pick up glass and food from the floor because your stepfather had thrown stuff around? How many times did you help your mother dress because she could barely move she was in so much pain? She wouldn’t even let you get her help. I was too scared and embarrassed to share my family secret.”

  It hadn’t been embarrassment that kept Gwen quiet. Her mother had firmly stated that she’d lie and cover for the bastard if Gwen told her teachers. The main reason Gwen had kept her mouth shut was that she’d known her stepfather would take it out on her mother. She’d kept quiet to protect Hanna, but it hadn’t felt like she was protecting her. It had felt like she was ignoring Hanna’s pain and need for help . . . just like the neighbors who never called the police, no matter how loud the yelling or screaming got. Not that Hanna was entirely innocent. No, she was just as volatile and mercurial as the bastard, but she never raised a hand to anyone.