Chapter Seven
Billy
I drive to Williamsburg, the Brooklyn neighborhood where Madison Evans lives, and find valet parking in a hotel nearby. The private investigators I hired gave me the full scoop on her, including a dossier on her roommate, Aubrey Cook. The two apparently grew up in the same apartment building in Jersey.
It’s Aubrey I’m hunting down today. There’s not a logical reason–nothing I think I can glean from her that my private investigators probably couldn”t ferret out. But my instincts told me to visit her in person, and a wolf trusts his instincts.
I stare at the photo of a beautiful young woman with dark skin and a froth of wild brown curls highlighted in gold and crimson. Her skin is smooth, her cheekbones high, and her pierced nose is adorned with a thin gold hoop. She’s pleasing to the eye, but I hate everything about her. I can just tell she’s a screaming liberal. She has a wild and carefree look that puts my teeth on edge. The photo was taken from her social media, and in it, she’s wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a crop top that reads, “Eat the Rich.” As if by rejecting money, she might actually hold some kind of power, when of course, the opposite is always true.
I leave the folder with her information in the car, along with my necktie, and walk to La Résistance, the cafe where she’ll be working this evening.
Why a cafe would be open at night is beyond me. Shouldn’t coffee places close after dark? It speaks of a business that doesn’t really know who or what it is. My opinion is confirmed when I arrive at the establishment. The wall outside is painted with a giant mural depicting an Occupy Wall Street protest. Inside, I find an arty, activist sort of place with a bulletin board covered in flyers advertising everything from social protest events to art openings and open mics.
I see my prey behind the counter. Her hair is in braids now that cascade over her shoulders and swing and shift with each movement. She wears a tight, cinnamon-colored crop top with a heart cut-out above her breasts in the style her roommate Madi likes to wear to torment Brick. The curves of her ass are clearly delineated in a tight pair of jeans.
I gnash my teeth, already wanting to wring her smug little neck for being as big a cocktease as her friend.
Unlike Madison, Aubrey doesn’t play act at fitting within a business world where she doesn’t belong. She seems very clearly at home in this wild, chaotic environment of the cafe.
According to her file, she’s majoring in Women’s Studies on the five or six-year plan because she’s putting herself through school with loans and her job here. My PI believes she may be angling for pre-law eventually based on her extracurricular activities and social activism, but it’s hard to tell.
The mere fact that this person is Madison Evans’ best friend speaks volumes. I’d suspected Madison was faking who she was, and this seems to confirm it.
She watches me survey the place, unwrapping a blow pop and sticking it in her mouth as I saunter forward.
Unlike Madi, she makes no polite pretense at being helpful. She doesn’t snap to attention when I walk to the counter. She doesn’t even take the damn blow pop from between those pillowed lips, just leans on her forearms, giving me an admittedly glorious view of her cleavage.
“Are you lost?” Her voice is whiskey on the rocks. Startlingly smooth.
But an even bigger surprise is her scent. It hits me, nearly knocking me backward. It has earthy tones, honey and nutmeg with hints of Egyptian spices. I fight the hold it has on me because it comes on like a full assault. Energy surges within my cells–sending forth a burst of power. It feels like the ferocity of a hunt combined with the release of four orgasms packed into one.
For a moment, I can’t think. All I can do is blink, continuing to drag in that dangerous aroma. To solve my dilemma, I stop breathing. I hold my inhale until my head clears, and then I let it slowly out.
“Why do you ask that?”
She sweeps her gaze up and down my body, and I realize what she sees. Even without the tie, I’m far too well-dressed for this place in my two thousand dollar Armani suit and nine hundred dollar shoes. I shake my cuff down over my Rolex.
She takes a long suck on the blow pop, and my dick jerks in my trousers, apparently jealous. She removes it with a popping sound. “You look lost.”
“I’ll take an espresso.”
She lifts up off her forearms but doesn’t scurry to make my drink. Like she thinks I have all the time in the world to stare at her staring at me. She gives a slow nod. “You look like an espresso man.”
My upper lip curls. “What does that mean?”
She lifts an elegant shoulder, turning away like she has better things to do. I can’t tell whether she’s making my drink or not. She moves around behind the counter, still in no apparent rush.
I try to control my rage–at least that’s what I think it is, except it’s so tinged with sexual tension, it almost renders me helpless.
It’s absurd to let a human’s scent affect me. She’s attractive, sure. But the farthest thing from my type. So far, I wouldn’t even fuck her as a one-off.
I’m not sure my dick agrees, though, so I drag my gaze away from her ass to scan the bulletin board behind the counter. This one isn’t covered in flyers, it’s packed with photos.
Lots of them feature the lovely barista Aubrey. Apparently, she’s been working here for years because in some of them, she appears young–still a teen.
And then my gaze snags on something interesting.
My wolf snarls with satisfaction. This is why my instincts told me to come here. Not because the human has a scent that makes me forget every woman I’ve ever had writhing beneath me. Not because she makes me want to break my hard rule of never, ever dallying with a human.
No. It’s exactly what I came here seeking.
A photo of Aubrey and Madison and an older woman with a shaved head holding Occupy Wall Street signs.
I knew she was a fraud!
I knew there was something off about Madison the moment I met her, and this proves it. Why would she take a job on Wall Street if she hates it? Supposedly to help pay her brother’s college tuition, but he got a scholarship, and she’s still at Moon Co, doing her best to wrap my alpha around her pinkie finger.
I know who she’s really working for. Her first month at Moon Co, Madison came into the office smelling like the Adalwulfs. She claimed she went into their building accidentally, but I don’t believe it.
And then there was the way Aiden Adal-fuck showed interest in her. He pretended to want to order her from the room, but it was a test to see what Brick would do. He knows the human is Brick’s weakness.
Worse are the rumors the Adalwulfs are circulating. I have spies embedded in their pack, and they report the seeress has a new prophecy. The Blackthroat king has a weakness. She will destroy all he desires.
It might be bogus. The crone has been right before, but it would be Machiavellian, to plant a human near Brick to tempt him and then spread a fake rumor of a prophecy.
Whether or not the prophecy is true doesn’t matter. If the Blackthroat pack hears about the prophecy and learns about Brick’s obsession with his secretary, they’ll put two and two together. They’ll fear for their Alpha. The stronger will question his ability to lead us. The weaker might defect. Energized by a crack in our foundation, the Adalwulfs will rally to destroy us.
And if the prophecy is true…it could mean the beginning of the end. I have to stop it.
Madison Evans is part of a plot to bring Brick down. I know it. I just need proof.
Behind me, someone drops a dish and breaks it. “Sorry,” the guy yells as Aubrey’s head whips around. He stoops to pick up the pieces.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it.” She finishes brewing my espresso and hands me the tiny, steaming cup, then abandons her post behind the counter to disappear in the back.
I down the shot of coffee, then walk around the counter, pretending to look for a napkin in case anyone sees me, and grab the photo off the board.
I pocket it as I walk out of the cafe.
Madison Evans, the jig is up. I’m onto you, and as soon as I figure out exactly what your game is and when the Adalwulfs hired you to play it, you’re going down.