Chapter 2 #2
It is my railcar! The first one. The one I jumped on before it headed east to Dilworth.
What about the bodies? Who was in there before it blew up?
I need to know. If the pack tracked me to that railcar, they might have destroyed it thinking I was on board.
But, why? The pack's alpha had wanted her alive for some reason. Blowing up the railcar made no sense.
Samara closed her eyes to analyze the evidence. If the pack found my scent in the railcar, all they would know is the railcar was headed to Dilworth. Is it possible they don't know that I had caught that train six weeks ago?
Could a wolf shifter's scent last that long? The railcar might have just returned from Dilworth for all they know.
That thought didn't comfort her.
All right. You need to relax. You jumped on another railcar in Dilworth. It'll be weeks before they can figure out which one.
She watched for a few more minutes, hoping for more information, but the story began to repeat itself, so she turned off the TV.
Like it or not, she had to leave this room and face her new reality.
She needed money to continue her journey, and it was time to get to work.
Yanking down her polo shirt to insure it hid her sheath, Samara started for the door, but at the last minute decided to grab the tray holding her empty breakfast plates and drinking glass.
It couldn't hurt if she showed off her tray balancing skills by bringing all of it down the stairs and into the kitchen.
Checkmarks in her favor were few and hard to come by, so a little demonstration and goodwill couldn't hurt.
Once in the kitchen, she spied Kellen standing with one of the chefs. They were deep in conversation, but whatever they were talking about ended abruptly as soon as the doors closed behind her. To her right, she saw the dishwasher, so she placed the tray on the conveyor and left it there.
Kellen handed a small tablet to the chef and made his way toward her.
Her imagination hadn't forgotten any details.
His long legs covered the distance with ease, but also with unexpected grace until he stood right before her.
He kept his hands behind his back, as if trying to reassure her he had no intention of making her feel uncomfortable.
"Did you get a good night's sleep?" His voice had a huskiness to it, something she hadn't remembered from their brief conversation yesterday. Her imagination had missed a few things.
"I did. Thank you for that and for breakfast."
"You're welcome." He motioned her out of the kitchen and toward the employee exit. "What's your name?"
"Maria." She hoped he didn't ask for a last name or ID. If he did she would have to explain a little more, but if he didn't, there was no reason to mention more.
"Hello, Maria. Let's head out to the dining room and get you started."
She followed him, concerned that he hadn't pressed her for more details about herself, but also grateful.
"Your station for now will be right here in front of the bar. I'll be here all day, so if there's a problem, just come and get me. Do you have any experience working as waitstaff?"
Chin up, answer with confidence, her grandfather's advice echoing in her ears. "No."
"Well, then, you'll shadow Carlie for today." He handed her a lunch menu along with a list of specials. "She doesn't start for an hour, so in the meantime you can memorize the food, drink, and dessert menus."
She gave them a quick glance as he pulled out a chair at one of the tables, motioning for her to sit. "Food comes with the apartment, so tell the chef when you're ready for lunch and they'll prepare something as long as it's on the menu."
"Thank you, but I was wondering about how official this position is." She peered up at him.
He tilted his head to the side, as if he didn't understand what she was asking for.
"I mean I was hoping to keep this under the table." Again, she stopped short of explaining and waited for his reaction.
Pulling out his own chair, he sat across from her, muscled arms crossing over his chest. It was unnerving the way he just rolled with everything she said or didn't say without demanding more.
"I understand what you're asking for and that's fine.
If all you want is a place to stay and some money until you can figure out your next move, I'll provide that.
But I don't run a sanctuary for rogue wolf shifters.
If the threat chasing you endangers my friends, staff, or anyone else in this town, I will deal with them after I escort you out of Winterbourne. "
"A wolf shifter?" Samara's heart couldn't beat fast enough to keep up with her panic. "Those are a myth. Why would you think I'm a wolf shifter?"
Honest confusion crossed his handsome face. "Your scent. It doesn't matter how many garbage cans you've raided; no amount of soap can scrub off what you are. My wolf shadow senses yours and we know there's something wrong. I'm trying to keep mine under control, but you are not making it easy."
Samara stood, pushing her chair back. She couldn't stay here. Not one more second. "I will only say this one time. I am not a wolf shifter."
She dashed for the door as if the Riverstone Pack itself chased her.