Chapter 6 #2
I flicked off the neon “OPEN” sign with my elbow, watching its pink glow die against the cracked window glass.
All the guys had already cleared out for the evening.
Julia stood hunched by the register like a wilting sunflower, shop ledgers clutched to her chest like body armor.
Her knuckles matched the white of the receipt paper stuck to her sleeve.
“Let’s go,” I said, nudging the door wider with my boot. The August air hit like a sauna when she didn’t move. Christ, when had she last blinked? Her thousand-yard stare could’ve bored holes in the Pepsi cooler.
I gripped her elbow softer than I’d handle wounded livestock. She stumbled over nothing, climbing into my King Ranch, boot catching on the running board chrome, but she didn’t drop those damn books. Ledger pages fluttered under rubber bands as I slammed her door shut like closing a casket.
The cab smelled of leather and the fir tree hanging from the rearview. At every red light between Main Street and Ma’s property line, I watched Julia trace column numbers on the cover of the top ledger book with one finger.
Her apartment stairwell light buzzed when we pulled up behind Ma’s propane tank. One flight of painted white steps took us to the shelter of her little apartment.
“Hold still.” My palm settled between her shoulder blades as she missed the third step entirely. A carpet nail snagged my sleeve while we shuffled upward. The butcher block countertop where I’d set her groceries the other day looked tidy and neat—ripening tomatoes sat on the windowsill.
She looked comfortable and at home, and I’d never seen a more beautiful sight.
“Chicken lasagna or stir-fry kit,” I said louder than needed against those damn ledgers stacked on her kitchen table. “Not Pop-Tarts.” My keys jangled gunshot-loud in cupped hands. “You hear me?”
Julia’s eyes sparkled under the pendant lights, a look of mischief on her face. “No, Pop-Tarts,” she repeated back to me with a half-grin. Fuck. She was beautiful.
I waited until tires crunched gravel down Mom’s driveway before letting out a deep sigh—hot air fogging the windshield as a fingernail moon rose over fields sleeping under dew blankets where nothing good ever dies quietly.
The truck door rattled as I slammed it shut and made my way into the compound tech office, the dust of the late-summer night kicking up behind me.
The room glowed with the light of LED displays, computers humming with a low and constant buzz as Wrecker’s silhouette cut against their screens.
I flopped in the chair across from him and crossed my arms over my chest. “I need to know every piece of information you’ve found on Julia—her background, her family, everything.
” The letters clicked into place as his fingers moved.
My world growing more complicated with every keystroke.
“Well, you’re gonna be disappointed. I’ve been checking and don’t have much, because Julia Harris ain’t your girl.”
I froze. “What do you mean?”
“NYC DMV records show a Julia Marie Harris died seven months ago. Hit-and-run on Park Avenue.”
I sat up straighter in my chair. The whirring of hard drives and the window unit’s hum buzzed in the room. “Glitch in their system?”
“Funeral home receipts say otherwise.”
Wrecker looked back at his screens. They filled with maps and background data. “You want me to hack facial recognition systems, boss?”
“Anywhere you can.” I leaned forward. “There’s somethin’ in her past, somethin’ we can’t see yet.”
I thought about the ledgers in her arms as I’d left her at her apartment. I now knew I was right about the fact that she was hiding something about herself. Something big.
“Is she in trouble?” Wrecker’s voice was steady as he asked. I couldn’t be sure if he was wondering about her or about what the hell I was doing falling in this fast and this deep.
“She’s something.” I met his eyes, the dim glow from the monitors flashing across his face. “Definitely hiding something or from someone.”
Wrecker knew better than anyone how to disappear from sight, how to erase yourself and everything about you.
If he didn’t, there was a good chance he wouldn’t still be alive and on our side of the law.
It was imperative that we had the ability to become ghosts when we took certain covert missions.
Unlocking others trying to do the same was his specialty.
We talked for a couple of hours. I told him about some of the things she’d said that led me to believe she was hiding from someone.
I told him about the signs of abuse I’d seen.
We’re all particularly sensitive about men who abuse women.
Three years ago a rival pack’s Alpha had seen Bridger’s sister Emma at a regional pack gathering.
He decided he wanted her as his mate. I presented his offer to Emma.
This alpha’s reputation for cruelty was well known, and thankfully, Emma refused the offer.
A week later. Emma went missing. We knew the Greenbriar Pack had taken her, but we had no direct proof.
They are a large and powerful pack, so we had to tread carefully.
We went through channels with the Supreme Supernatural Council, but after an investigation they denied having her, and the council found no proof that she was on their pack lands.
So, we did what we do best, found her and extracted her.
The Greenbriar Alpha was killed in the rescue.
The Council reprimanded us for the way the rescue went down, but based on her condition, the council ruled we were justified in acting quickly.
Greenbriar was sanctioned, which just meant they lost voting privileges for five years.
They carry a vendetta to this day. Emma never recovered from her injuries.
They’d bound her in silver so often her injuries couldn’t heal properly.
She passed away two weeks after we’d recovered her. Menace never got over it.
We take abuse of women damn fucking seriously around here. Julia, or whoever she was, had the hallmarks of an abuse victim. I would not let that stand.
The rest of the compound was quiet as we continued to discuss my little bookkeeper.
“I thought I was just hiring some uptown numbers expert,” I said, more to myself than to him.
“Looks like you’re in deep.” He tilted his head, a shadow of amusement behind the words.
“Get used to it,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest as the computer started filling with files. “I think she’s stayin’ awhile.”
“Gonna introduce her to the pack, then?” Wrecker’s expression was unreadable, but he’d been around long enough to know the signs. He could probably smell the change on me before I could myself.
“I am. I don’t fucking care who she is. She’s wolf, and she’s called me.”
“Well, boss, at least we know Julia Harris is dead.”
I just shook my head. That beautiful little liar. “Definitely sure there’s no mix-up?”
“Unless the Andrews Funeral Home in Cortland, New York buried the wrong person. This Julia Harris has the same date of birth, eye and hair color. She definitely passed in that hit and run on January 1, 2024.”
“I’ll be damned. Her paperwork looked fucking professional.
I want you to pull out all the stops. Go ahead with facial recognition, the works.
And when you find out who she is, I want to know who her parents are.
Her grandparents. Everyone. The girl has wolf blood, and I want to know where it came from. I want to know yesterday.”
“I’ll have it for you by the party at the clubhouse.”
“See that you do.”