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“Why did you let me keep drinking?”
“You have pretty, white teeth, Angel. And they looked very sharp when you snarled at me for trying to pry the bottle of Jack from your hand.”
She-wolves didn’t blush from embarrassment, but Angeline certainly felt mortified at her lack of self-control. “Why didn’t you leave?”
“Clearly, you were upset. And drinking the way you did, I wasn’t going to leave you alone. Something could’ve happened to you.”
“Did anything happen?” They were both fully dressed when she woke up, but she really didn’t remember much about last night.
“No,” Lincoln said without hesitation and holding her gaze. “You drank, said a lot of nonsensical things, and then you fell asleep. I stayed in case you got sick.” He lifted the coffee cup to his mouth to drink.
“You’re a good guy, Lincoln. Thanks.” Angeline swallowed another mouthful of coffee, too. “So what sort of stuff did I talk about?”
“Your mom. You miss her a lot.”
True, Angeline did miss her mother. And she missed how differently her life would’ve been if her mother hadn’t been murdered during a mugging.
“You also kept saying if I were Tristan, you would tell me a lot more.” Curiosity edged around the uncertainty glimmering in his eyes. “Sounds like you and Tristan have been more than just friendly neighbors.”
A subtle tension crept into Lincoln’s body and his gaze left her face.
“No.” Angeline shook her head. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“It’s okay,” Lincoln said. “I don’t need an explanation.”
He might not, but Angeline’s instinct pushed her to clarify. “Tristan is like a brother, but closer than my own. He knows things about me that my family and other friends don’t.”
“Maybe you should’ve called him last night instead of inviting me in.” Lincoln carried his cup to the sink.
“Tristan has a mate now.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“I don’t expect him to be my confidant anymore. It wouldn’t be right.”
Lincoln finished rinsing out his coffee cup. “I guess you’re in search of a new one and I didn’t cut the mustard.”
“I barely know you.” How could she trust him the way she trusted Tristan, who’d been there for her for most of their lives? “Is it true that you’re retiring from the Program?”
“That’s what people keep telling me.”
Not exactly the answer she wanted to hear.
“Well, who knows?” She shrugged. “If you stick around long enough—” They might eventually become friends...good friends...really good friends with full moon benefits.
“I’m not planning on it,” he said abruptly. “Neither should you.”
Well, if that wasn’t a door being slammed in her face...
“Thanks for playing watchdog last night.” She walked to her front door and opened it. “But I’m in control of all my faculties now. Time for you to leave.”
He dried his hands on the dish towel, walked to the door and stepped outside into the breaking dawn.
“Angeline.” He turned around. Of the myriad of emotions flickering across his face, confusion, regret, loneliness—those were the ones that tugged her heart strings.
Damn, she was too soft.
“I have a really busy day,” Angeline lied. She didn’t have to be at the restaurant until the afternoon. “See you around.”
Locking the door, she hoped her heart took notice. Lincoln was no different than Tanner. Dogmen lived for the Program. Nothing and no one else mattered. And she would never put herself through that turmoil ever again.
Lincoln stepped into the Walker’s Run Resort and shook off the cold. A large fireplace in the rustic seating area crackled with flames, and red roses and hearts decorated the main lobby. A Happy Valentine’s Day banner hung behind the guest services counter. Coming from a part of the world where conflict and violence had become commonplace, he found the commercialization of love off-putting.
Intentionally early for his meeting, Lincoln walked to a seating area near the fireplace and sat in a high-backed leather chair to watch everyone coming and going. Brice had invited him to meet the security team leaders and unofficially consult on the upgrade process of the pack’s well-being. He’d also given Lincoln access to the resort’s state-of-the-art gym, which he planned to use to continue his fitness training.
Two sentinels dressed as resort employees casually patrolled the lobby. Outside, Lincoln had noted at least three sentinels working valet and four handling bell service. Lincoln expected those numbers would increase, depending on the number of non-pack wolfans registered for rooms.
He turned his attention to the three offices with interior glass windows that faced the lobby. Two offices were dark, but the middle one had the blinds up and the light on. Cassie sat at a desk, her back straight and her fingers tapping on a computer keyboard.
Hands paused and she turned, looking directly at him.
He gave a slight nod as she waved.
A few minutes later, limping, Brice walked slowly out of the corridor. Cassie’s attention turned to him.
Brice gave her a wink, which broadened her smile. Nearly an entity in and of itself, the palpable love bouncing between them was a phenomenon Lincoln had never witnessed.
His parents loved each other and loved him, in their own way. But their mateship, and their family life, had been centered on being the best of the best. Life was a competition to win and affection merely distracted one from the ultimate end goal.
If Lincoln had remembered what his family had taught, he wouldn’t have allowed his emotions to lead him and his team into a trap. While in Walker’s Run, he needed to stay focused on his mission and not be led astray by indulging in errant emotions and human customs, or he would screw up his chance to get back on active duty and lose the only opportunity he had to find Dayax.
“Tristan’s office is on the third floor,” Brice said, approaching.
Lincoln matched Brice’s stride but remained a half step behind him. As progressive as some wolfan packs were, a natural pecking order remained. Brice, the Alpha-in-waiting and a direct descendant of the first Alpha of Walker’s Run, deserved his respect.
The Wahyas of Walker’s Run had done well in choosing an Alpha family who, through the generations, had remained committed to serving the pack rather than accumulating wealth and power.
Not that the Alpha family didn’t have both. The difference being that they shared the wealth and utilized the power for the benefit of the pack.
All able-bodied adult pack members were expected to work and contribute to the pack’s finances—a tithe of sorts to the Walker’s Run Co-operative that funded their health care, education, business start-ups and things for the pack’s overall enjoyment. The Co-op’s Family Park, for instance, included a baseball field, picnic pavilions and an entertainment stage. Unfortunately, the stage itself had been destroyed a few months back by a diversionary explosion in a domestic power struggle between a pack member and an outsider.
It might be easy for wolfan rogues to mistake the peace-loving Walker’s Run pack as being ripe for a takeover. However, Lincoln had seen enough of the world to recognize that wolfans and humans who fought to defend their families and their ideals could become the deadliest forces on the planet.
They stopped at the brass elevators rather than continuing to the wide, curved hardwood stairs.
“I can make it up the steps,” Lincoln said, trying to keep the strain from his voice. If he couldn’t convince Brice of his fitness, he’d have no chance swaying the medical review board.
“Be my guest,” Brice replied without censure. “But I can’t. Cold weather wreaks havoc on my bad leg. It’s a struggle to stand and walk today. Climbing the stairs will likely do me in.”
Ding! The doors slid open and Brice stepped inside the elevator. Lincoln joined him.
“I meant what I said last night before you left.” Brice held Lincoln’s gaze as the elevator began to climb. “Regardless of when you retire, I hope you’ll consider settling down in the Walker’s Run territory.”
“I appreciate the invitation,” Lincoln said. “It’s hard to look that far ahead when all I can think about is that scared wolfling waiting for me to keep my promise.” A new pack, a new home, a new family to keep him safe: That was what Lincoln had vowed to find for Dayax. Until Lincoln fulfilled that oath, he couldn’t begin to think of his own future.
The elevator doors opened. Instead of guest rooms, the third floor housed offices and conference rooms.
He followed Brice to an office with a large interior glass window looking into the corridor. No matter how civilized they became, wolfans didn’t like being boxed in.
The wolfan sitting behind the desk and the one leaning next to him with his palm flat on the desk blotter studying the computer screen looked up as he and Brice entered.
“Lincoln, this is Tristan Durrance, our chief sentinel.” Brice waved his hand toward the blond man behind the desk beginning to stand.
“Finally, a face to go with the voice.” Grinning, Tristan extended his hand in the customary greeting that Wahyas who worked closely with humans had adopted. “Sorry about the mix-up with the key.”
“No worries. Angeline got me oriented and I’ve settled in.” Lincoln pocketed the key Tristan handed to him.
“Great.” Tristan hiked his thumb toward the man beside him. “This is Reed Sumner, one of our lieutenants.”
Like Shane, Reed greeted him with an obligatory nod of acknowledgment rather than a handshake. After pleasantries were exchanged, they discussed the recent run-ins with illegal game poachers inside the pack’s protected forest and a series of unrelated attacks by revenge-seeking wolfans. In Lincoln’s experience, their concerns were generally consistent with what most first-world packs dealt with from time to time.
“It would be a great help if you ran through our security protocols and advised where and how to tighten our current measures,” Tristan said.
Reed cut his eyes at Lincoln.
He needed to be careful to avoid stepping on the lieutenant’s paws.
“Sounds like Reed has a good handle on things,” Lincoln told Tristan, then turned his attention back to Reed. “But I’d love to stretch my legs if you don’t mind a tagalong.”
“I’d appreciate the company,” Reed said, beginning to relax. “Is now too soon?”
“Not for me.” Lincoln admired how their recent adversities had brought the Walker’s Run pack closer together, making them stronger rather than tearing them apart. They were a united force working toward a common goal.
A team.
Something Lincoln no longer had.
His ribs seemed to fold in on his lungs. The immense sorrow he buried after realizing his team members had died because of their loyalty to him threatened to surface. If he gave in to the grief, it would simply consume him and their deaths would be in vain. He needed to keep a clear mind and a singular focus on finding Dayax.
Chapter 6 (#u484207a4-2c17-5558-bff5-b92a662a77e9)
Five o’clock, and a few early birds were seated inside Taylor’s Roadhouse. According to Reed, by eight the place would be packed and Lincoln wanted to be out before the crowd arrived.
Funny how masses of people had not bothered him while on active duty. However, a few days ago in the Munich airport surrounded by hundreds of people, he’d experienced the first panic attack in his life. Accelerated heart rate, shortness of breath, ringing in his ears, cold, clammy hands despite sweating profusely, had forced him to seek solace in the men’s room. What an unwelcomed start to his first venture back into the civilian world. A splash of cold water on his face and a harsh internal dialogue had gotten him through the episode. And he’d sincerely hoped it would be the last.
However when Reed had invited him to meet up with some of the security team tonight, the same odd creepy-crawly sensation had tightened Lincoln’s chest and he’d begged off with a rain check. Of course, that didn’t mean he would deprive himself of “the best steaks in three counties.” Nor did he want to miss a chance to talk to Angeline.
Last night, he’d made the right call not telling her about his connection to Tanner Phillips. But after the strained way they’d parted, she might not answer the door if he knocked. Clearly, he’d upset her, but the conversation was leading to a road he wasn’t allowed to explore, no matter how much he might want to do so.
Visually, he searched the restaurant for her, but only spotted one server. A blonde a few inches shorter than Angeline, and human. Wahyas had an eerie sense that allowed them to recognize their own kind. And she did not set off any signals, wolfan or otherwise.
An older woman approached the hostess station. Silver threads glinted in her hair, the rich, robust color of chestnuts but her eyes matched the exact shade of Angeline’s sapphire blues.
“Welcome to Taylor’s.” Her wide, genuine smile appeared all too human. “You must be Lincoln.”
A prickle scaled his spine. “Yes, ma’am. And you are?”
“Miriam Taylor, Angeline’s aunt,” she said. “She’s told me all about you.”
Lincoln hoped otherwise.
“I’m surprised to see you this early. Angeline mentioned you were getting acquainted with the sentinels today. They don’t usually come in until later.”
“Jet lag.” Lincoln used the same lie he’d given Reed. “I need to eat then crash for a while.”
“We’ll get your belly filled and then you’ll sleep like a lazy pup until morning.”
“Sounds nice, but I never sleep more than a few snatches at a time.”
“I imagine out of necessity, considering your line of work. But you’re in Walker’s Run, not a war zone. It’s okay to relax and enjoy yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lincoln smiled, although he doubted there would ever come a time when he could drop his guard. “Is anyone joining you for supper?”
Only in spirit. “No, ma’am.”
Miriam picked up one hard-bound menu. “Table or booth?”
Lincoln glanced around the cozy interior of the restaurant. The bar area had stools at the bar itself, booths along the wall and bistro tables of two and four. In the other section, booths were also along the wall with tables of four and six in the center. Larger parties probably used the huge round table in middle of the restaurant. A small stage sat in front of the dance floor and the kitchen had a long glass window in front of the grill so that patrons could watch their steaks being cooked. His mouth watered even though nothing had been placed on the grill.
“A small table in the bar is fine.” He hoped the steaks tasted as good as his new friends had insisted they would. The ones he’d eaten in the Program’s hospital in Germany had tasted like cardboard.
“It will be about twenty minutes before Jimmy starts putting steaks on the grill, so make sure to start with an appetizer, on the house.” Miriam seated Lincoln at a bistro table and handed him a menu. “Would you like something to drink while looking over the menu?”
“Water, for now,” he said, flipping through the three pages of alcoholic beverages listed at the back of the menu. It had been so long since he’d eaten in a restaurant like this, Lincoln had forgotten the variety of items to choose from.
“I’ll send over Tessa when she’s finished with them.”
Tessa, Lincoln assumed, was the blonde server delivering drinks to a table of elderly wolfans.
“Is Angeline here?” he asked Miriam, internally volleying between the desire to see her again and the dread of needing to fulfill a promise to a dead Dogman, which would likely draw her censure.
“She’s in the storeroom taking inventory.” Locked on Lincoln, Miriam’s gaze narrowed ever so slightly beneath the delicate arch of her brow. “I could ask her to come out.”
“No.” He pretended hunger caused the unpleasant tug in his gut. “I’ll talk to her later.”
“Angeline mentioned that you’re staying in Tristan’s apartment.”
“For the next few weeks.”
