Chapter 11 #2
My hand transforms into my wolf hand and I squeeze his neck.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he chokes out.
“This is for touching her.” I squeeze harder.
Finally, I release him. He coughs, trying to catch his breath.
My claws dig into his scalp and turn his head until his eyes meet mine. “You’re going to jail.”
“Man, I’m pressing charges.”
I chuckle as I close his door. I lift the trunk hatch and pick up a small white towel, removing Tom’s blood from my furry hand and claws.
I change back into my uniform shirt. Once I’m done, I climb into the driver’s seat.
I drive around to the front of the club.
Sasha’s leaving with me, so I discard the asshole on the pavement. I’ll have a deputy pick him up.
My forest floor scent is sharp and dominant when she exits the club. I want to get her home to my cabin.
Her big amber eyes widen. I may have gone too far, using my alpha bark on her. I’m not sure why I’m driven to act a fool over this woman.
At this point, I’m out of control. I barely acknowledge Jenny. But I’m cordial for Sasha’s sake. Sanchez will give Tom a ride to the station. I’ll beat his ass some more really soon.
On the ride to the campground, Sasha says she won’t move in with me. I decide to take a step back. I’ll get her to my place soon enough.
I probe about Jenny. I see the embarrassment on her face because she doesn’t know that much about her. Really, she knows nothing. Hanging out with a total stranger. I’ll be sure to investigate Jenny.
I inform Sasha, if the danger heightens, she’s coming home with me.
Once we arrive at the camper, I insist on checking it out. When I ask Sasha about the dress under her pillow, embarrassment washes over her pretty features.
“Your scent is on my dress.”
The alpha in me and my wolf are all too happy to give her shirts, hoodies, jackets, and blankets that all smell like me.
When she caresses my jaw, I purr and she whines against my palm.
My cock rises to the occasion. This isn’t the time to fuck my omega.
At that moment, it’s obvious that she belongs to me.
I don’t need biology to tell me we’re meant to be together.
My soul feels at home. I take her lips in a passionate kiss.
It’s so hard to leave her. All I want to do is hold her in my arms all night.
Sunday morning, I run Jenny’s face before I let myself think too hard about why.
The club owner, Jason, sent over her picture from last night’s surveillance footage — it’s of when the two of them were laughing at the bar, Jenny’s face turned just enough toward the light.
I told myself it was routine. Anyone new sniffing around my town while there’s an active wire fraud investigation gets run.
That’s not a lie. It’s just not the whole truth either.
The system takes a while to spit anything out — facial recognition through the county database, cross-referenced against DMV records for three states. When the hit finally comes back, I sit with it for a full minute before I do anything else.
South Carolina. Not New Hampshire. A driver’s license two years expired, an address in a town forty minutes outside Charleston.
I don’t like coincidences. I like them even less when they’re standing next to the woman I’d burn this town down for.
I reach the camper at two. She’s already outside when I pull up, sunglasses pushed up into her braids, a legal pad tucked under one arm like she’s been waiting on me.
“Thanks for doing this,” she says, climbing in.
“I told you I would. I believe in keeping my word.”
“Of course you do.”
We spend the next two hours doing what she should’ve been doing from day one, if she’d bothered filing that report — working the main street storefront by storefront, asking about the wire transfer, showing the printout of the routing number to anyone who’ll look at it.
Most of them shake their heads. A couple ask more questions than I like about why the sheriff’s suddenly playing bodyguard to his own secretary.
She’s good at this. Better than good. She’s got a way of getting people to talk without them noticing they’re being worked — soft voice, easy smile, never pushes past where they want to go.
I watch her charm information out of the woman who runs the fabric shop that I couldn’t have gotten out of her with a subpoena.
“You’re staring,” Sasha says, once we’re back in the SUV.
“I’m observing. Comes with the badge.”
“Uh-huh.” She flips to a fresh page on the legal pad. “Where to next?”
I don’t answer right away. She notices, which is half the problem with this woman, and sets the pen down.
“What.”
“I ran a background check on Jenny last night.”
Her whole posture changes. “Why?”
“Because a woman with no last name I can find has been walking you around town.”
“She has a last name. I just haven’t—“
“You haven’t asked. I know.” I keep my eyes on the road because if I look at her right now, I’m not going to like what I say next. “She told you she’s from New Hampshire?”
“Yeah.”
“Her ID’s South Carolina. Address outside Charleston. Expired two years ago.”
Sasha goes quiet in a way I’ve learned means she’s turning something over hard enough it hurts.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” she says finally, but there’s no conviction in it. “People move. IDs lapse. It’s not a crime to be from somewhere.”
“No. But it’s a lie, and you don’t tell a lie like that by accident. Nobody forgets which state they grew up in.”
“I know that.” It comes out sharper than she means it, probably. She presses two fingers to her temple. “I just — I like her, Gavin. She’s been kind to me since I got here. If she’s—“
“I’m not saying she did anything. I’m saying be careful. Same as I’d say about anyone who lied to your face for no reason you can see yet.”
She’s quiet for a long stretch after that, watching the storefronts slide by, and I let her have it. I know what it costs her to hear this — another person in her life who might not be who they said they were. I’d take that away from her if I could figure out how.
“What do we do?” she asks eventually.
“We don’t do anything. I keep an eye on her. You keep being exactly as friendly as you’ve been. Don’t spook her before I know what I’m dealing with.”
“You want me to keep spending time with a woman you think is lying to me.”
“I want you safe more than I want you comfortable. Those aren’t always the same thing.” I glance over at her, just once. “I’ll be there when you need me.”
She doesn’t respond. Sasha caresses my bearded cheek, bringing me a new kind of peace. We listen to the radio for the remainder of the drive.
I’ll find out if Jenny means harm to my little omega.