Chapter Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Seven
Margot
One Month Later
I bolt down the hall, Caine hot on my heels. Skittering down the stairs I run for the front door. Where I’ll go beyond it, I don’t know, but my flight is the mindless run of a prey animal. One thought loops through my head: Get away, get away, get away. It’s heaven.
“Oh, you think you’re slick,” Caine booms from behind me. “You think I won’t fuck you right on the front porch, you little—”
I’m steps from the front door when it opens, a dark-haired, bearded man stepping over the threshold.
My scream is earsplitting. Caine roars, “What the fuck?” Barefoot, I can’t get the traction I need to stop.
I hit the stranger hard. He takes a staggering step backward, grabbing my arms to keep us both upright.
Already on edge from Caine and our game, I thrash, my surprised yelp turning into an angry “Get off.”
Technically, I’m touching him more than he’s touching me, but I’m not thinking logically.
Neither is Caine. Ripping me away from the intruder, he’s in the man’s face, grabbing his shirt, shoving him backward over the threshold.
“Don’t fucking touch her” comes out in a bellow that makes Gremlin yip from upstairs.
“Good grief, Caine,” the man snaps, the exasperation in the voice triggering something in my mind. The man goes with the shove, not swinging on Caine, even as Caine continues to force him across the porch.
“Wait, Caine,” I sputter, trying to put the pieces together. “Don’t—”
A car horn cuts me off. All three of us look toward the driveway, where a small tan sedan sits. There’s a ponytailed brunette woman in the passenger seat, leaning over to lay on the horn. In the back seat, a huge dog fogs up the window, occasionally swiping the glass with his tongue.
Deciding that her interruption was sufficient, the woman pops out of the car.
“We’re home!” Claire yells across the drive, waving her arms as if we’ve given them a warm welcome.
I wave back as I turn to look at the man—Shane—who Caine has released.
Shane’s look can only be described as bemused, as Caine offers a sheepish apology.
Claire hurries to the front porch, and I tackle her in a hug, laughing with delight and relief.
“You’re back early!” I exclaim. “Is everything okay?”
“We made great time!” She grins as she pulls back, looking far more refreshed than someone who has been sleeping in the woods for months should be able to.
Her hair is sun-streaked, her nose and forehead freckled.
She’s never looked happier. It’s contagious, making me beam at her.
Hooking her elbow through mine, she spins us to face Caine and Shane.
Full teacher voice turned on, she gives Caine a look. “Is that any way to greet your brother?” To Shane, she asks, “You okay?”
Scoffing, Shane nods. “The day I can’t take my little brother, just put me out to pasture.”
“Right.” Claire unhooks from me to hug a subdued Caine.
“Sorry.” He grins. “In my defense, I thought a werewolf broke in. It was a full moon last night.”
Shane rolls his eyes, Claire laughs, and I shake my head. Shane is definitely hairier than the last time I saw him. The usually clean-shaven lawyer looks like a woodsman, complete with a thick dark beard and salt-and-pepper hair that almost hits his collar.
“Sorry I screamed,” I offer. “I didn’t recognize you with the beard. It looks nice, though.”
“No worries.” Shane tucks Claire under his arm, sighing when she stage-whispers, “Keep telling him that. I want him to keep it.”
“Nobody wants their lawyer to look like a lumberjack,” he mutters.
“I would,” Caine offers helpfully, and I nod. Claire beams at him, patting his chest. “See, I told you. It’s distinguished.”
After another long-suffering sigh, Shane fixes his gaze on me. “Why were you running?”
“Running?” Claire looks from Shane to me. “What are you talking about?”
“I opened the door and she crashed into me. Before Caine tried to push me off the porch.”
Heat licks my cheeks. “Oh, um, well, I thought I heard the UPS truck.”
Claire looks suspicious. Focusing on Caine, she asks, “Where’s your shirt?”
Oh no.
“That’s a good question,” Shane says, as if he just noticed Caine’s not wearing one.
“I was working on something in the garage,” Caine lies. “Didn’t want to get it dirty.”
“Whose dog is that in the car?” I’m desperate to change the topic.
“Ours,” they say together. Claire is practically bouncing; Shane says it as if he’s admitting to a felony.
Caine whoops. “For real? You finally talked the grump into a dog?”
“Technically, Gregg didn’t give him a choice,” Claire says with a smirk, starting off the porch toward the car.
“I’m not a grump,” Shane adds.
“Who’s Gregg?” I ask.
We’re all at the car now. Claire opens the door and a massive dog tumbles out.
Black and tan, with gray around his muzzle and ears, he must be a hound mix.
Tail wagging like a weapon, he circles Caine and me, sniffing happily.
A bright orange collar with what looks like a high-tech tracking tag is around his neck.
Pausing his inspection, the dog looks off toward the woods. He sniffs the air.
“Uh—” Claire doesn’t make it to oh. A black-and-tan rocket, he darts across the field.
“Goddamnit.” Shane doesn’t make a move to chase him.
“Greggory Edward Underwood!” Claire calls, but it’s no use. He vanishes into the woods without looking back.
Caine nods. “He looks like a Greggory.”
“Not again.” Claire gives Shane a pleading look. “Should you go look for him?”
“He’ll come back when he’s ready,” Shane grumbles, but he’s already elbowing Caine. “Want to take the ATV out to get him?”
“Hell yeah.” Caine winks at me and starts off with Shane. As they walk away, I hear Caine ask, “You don’t think he’s an ex–cadaver dog, do you?”
I swallow a nervous laugh, turning to Claire. “I want to hear trail stories. And how you ended up with Gregg.”
“Oh, we’ve got stories. And way too many pictures on Shane’s camera.” She shakes her head with a laugh as we start back toward the house. “But until they get back, catch me up on what happened this summer.” Pausing at the steps, she stares at the house. “Did you clean the porch?”
“It’s a long story.” I hook my arm through hers. “Might want to sit down for it.”
· · ·
Explaining the whole Nicholas saga—sans murder—is a journey, but I do it, the entire time wondering why I didn’t tell her sooner.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” Claire asks when I’m done, the question so kind it makes tears spring to my eyes.
Looking anywhere but at her, I blink furiously. “It’s embarrassing. And then once people know, they know, and it changes things.” It’s a wholly unhelpful explanation, but it’s all I have.
Her arm slips around my shoulders, tugging me against her side on the porch swing. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, and it doesn’t change anything.” It sounds like there’s a lump in her throat. “I’m sorry you felt like you had to keep this to yourself.”
Giving up my attempt to stop the tears, I let them fall. “It’s not your fault. I know I could have told you. I’m the one who didn’t.”
“Still sorry.” She sniffs, wiping her eyes. “If you keep secrets because you want to, I get that, but please don’t keep them because you feel like you have to, or because you’re worried it’s too much to share. You aren’t a burden, okay?”
“Okay,” I squeak.
She inhales hard, her voice changing how it does when she’s trying to turn around the mood. A watery smile appears on my face at how Claire it is. I want to help her cheer things up and I already told her that Caine and I are now together.
“I have something else to tell you.”
“What?”
“You know my stun gun?”
She nods.
“I used it on Caine.”
At first, she doesn’t say anything, only makes a thoughtful sound. I don’t know what response I was expecting—laughter, or maybe shock?—but this wasn’t it.
“Okay, so I don’t want explicit details, but where? And how does it work?”
Her questions confuse me, and she isn’t done. “Is it part of foreplay, or a right-before-orgasm-to-intensify-it type of thing?”
Oh.
“No.” I try not to laugh. “Not sexually. When he came in that first night, I thought he was Nicholas and zapped him.” Then I’m laughing for real, unable to fight it.
“Did you really think I was going to wrap up this heart-to-heart with Hey, so your brother-in-law likes to get the shit shocked out of him in bed?”
“Well…” she starts. “You stunned him for real?”
Laughter bursts out of me, and then I give up.
Claire does too, dissolving into giggles beside me.
We’re still cackling like witches when Caine, Shane, and a panting Gregg get back.
Shane drops on Claire’s other side, making the swing rock.
She wipes her cheeks and looks at Caine, who’s perched on the porch railing opposite us, curiosity and amusement on his face.
“Whatcha up to?” he says calmly, sending Claire into a fit of giggles again.
Trying to stay composed, I tell him, “I told Claire about how I zapped you.”
He groans. “Zapped makes it sound cute. Call it what it is, killer: you lit my ass up.” The easy grin he gives me almost restarts my laughter.
“I’ll light your ass up all right,” I mutter. Shane barks a laugh so loud and sudden that Gregg jerks around to look at him. He must have said something offensive to dogs, because I hear a shrill yip from inside the house.
“Her Majesty calls,” Caine says. “I wonder if Germ and Gregg will get along. If there’s a fight, my money’s on the Germ.”
“They are not fighting,” Claire says firmly, hooking a hand under Gregg’s collar. “They’ll be friends or they’ll stay at opposite ends of the house.”
“Speaking of the house.” Shane clears his throat, pulling all our attention. “Margot, Caine filled me in on some of the situation. I realize things seem to have quieted down, but if you’re comfortable, we’d really like you to stay here with us through the fall.”
Heat fills my face. “I don’t want to intrude—”