Falling for the Billionaire Wolf and His Baby (Blood Moon Brotherhood 1)

That was good. “How long?” Finn asked.

Mal looked at him “Maybe two days.”

“Small group?” Dante asked, his interest piqued.

“Maybe eight,” Mal said.

“Hell, we can take eight,” Anders said, snorting and taking over breakfast. “That’s nothing.”

Jessa glanced at him then back at Oscar.

“What about them?” Hollis asked. “Mal is right. Their presence causes a definite disadvantage.”

Finn paced again, his heart twisting at the options that spun in his mind.

“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, they can’t be together,” Dante said.

Anders nodded. “Talk about a clear target.”

Finn nodded. No matter which way he went, he wasn’t happy. The thought of taking Oscar from Jessa was a punch to the gut. He was her baby, Finn knew that. But what choice did he have? Even though the dumb shit had brought trouble to his door, Mal was right. No more running. The whole intimidation tactic had to end, here and now. “I’ll call Brown. He can take Jessa.” He didn’t look at her, couldn’t look at her. “Hollis, your moon-sickness over? You’ll take Oscar. The rest of us will wait for the Others here,” Finn said, staring around the room at the men he considered his family.

“’Bout damn time,” Mal said, rubbing his hands together.

Finn didn’t deny the flare of anticipation that set the hairs on the back of his neck straight.

“Excuse me,” Jessa said, handing Oscar to Hollis and leaving the room.

He followed, pushing the bedroom door closed behind him.

She stared at him, hurt and angry—and silent.

“Be mad at me after you’re gone,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “Right now, I need you.” His lips latched onto her neck, his hands stripping the clothes from her body. When he was buried deep inside her, he felt better. This separation was temporary. And it was for the best. He took his time making love to her, his fingers and hands and mouth driving her wild. He studied her reactions, her sounds, the bowing of her body. Whatever it took, he would protect this—he would protect her.

His wolf knew how to kill. It was in his blood. Finn would murder every last one of them so that, maybe, he’d never have to do it again.

Chapter Twelve

Jessa stared at the starless sky, toying with Finn’s medallion around her neck. She stood by the large window of the motel Brown had found for them on the San Francisco Bay, unable to enjoy the view. They hadn’t heard from Finn in five days. She’d seen Oscar via Facetime and Skype, but she ached to hold him in her arms. Not to mention her brothers. Harry was getting suspicious, but she’d done her best to make it sound like they’d extended their holiday—not gone into hiding. She missed them, missed home, so much.

“Got you some dinner, Miss Talbot.” Brown placed a wrapped sandwich on the table. “You need to eat something, ma’am.”

She unwrapped the paper and nibbled on the bread.

“I’ll be next door,” Brown said.

She nodded. “Thank you.”

He left, closing the door to the adjoining room softly. It was unlocked, in case she needed him. But what could one man do against a werewolf? She’d asked him, and the answer hadn’t been reassuring.

“They don’t go down easily,” Brown had said. “You have to shoot them straight in the heart. Or in the head. But I’ve had bullets bounce off their skulls.”

“Thick-headed,” she’d murmured. “What about the whole silver thing?”

He nodded. “It works, but you still need to be a crack-shot. If you don’t get the brain or heart, you’re just pissing them off. Silver makes them sick and it prevents them from being able to change into a wolf, so it can be useful.” He seemed to realize he might have shared too much information and offered her his pistol. “This would be too big for you, too much kick. But Mr. Dean should get you outfitted—and trained—just in case.”

She’d never been one to read high-concept fiction or watch supernatural movies. Life was life—there was enough conflict without adding things that didn’t exist. But now she wished she’d paid more attention. The few movies she’d managed to watch in her hotel room had been horrible. For one thing, the werewolf was always some crazed monster bent on murdering and disemboweling people. For another, no one survived.

Each night, she cried herself to sleep and tried to forget what Finn might be up against, and how much she missed Oscar. If separating them would make him safer, slow down the Others, Jessa wasn’t about to argue. His safety came first.