Ravensong (Green Creek 2)

ithout thinking too much about it, I reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it just once before letting it go.

“You too, Gordo,” my Alpha told me. “You too. We’ll see you tonight.”

Oh, he would. We had a message to deliver.

Tanner and Chris were bent over a 2009 Toyota Camry with a transmission problem. They looked up at me as I headed toward the front of the garage.

“Uh-oh,” Tanner said. “He’s got that look.”

“Someone is either going to get murdered or laid,” Chris said. Then he frowned. “I wish I didn’t know that much about him.”

“I’m taking the rest of the day off,” I told them, trying desperately to ignore the knowing grins on their faces. “I want the parts ordered for the Buick before you leave. And don’t forget to call Mr. Simmons and tell him that there is absolutely nothing rattling around that we could hear. For the sixth time.”

“Sure, boss,” Tanner said easily. “Glad to have you back.”

“Go kill or have sex or whatever,” Chris said. He grimaced. “Holy fuck, do we need better boundaries.”

That was the first thing they’d said that I agreed with in weeks.

Rico was in the break room, feeding Bambi grapes by hand as she sat in his lap.

I didn’t understand straight people.

“Gordo,” Rico said, sighing dreamily, “Bambi has decided to do me the honor of forgiving me for the whole secret society of werewolves thing! Isn’t that amazing?”

“You can still get out of this,” I told her. “No one would blame you.”

“Eh,” she said. “The so-called anonymous donation I received to help rebuild the Lighthouse went a long way to putting him back in my good graces. That and the fact there was enough for me to buy it outright.”

“I wasn’t the one who blew up the bar,” Rico said, sounding outraged. “If you’re gonna be pissed at anyone, it should be Gordo. He’s the one that—”

“Sacrificed a hand?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Rico gaped at her. “But—but I got shot. I have a scar.”

“Bambi, nice to see you again,” I said. “Rico, back on the clock in five or you’re fired.”

“Bullshit!” he cried after me. “Like you would ever let me go, brujo.”

Robbie was squinting over some invoices, pen scratching in the logbook. His glasses were perched low on his nose. He looked up at me when I went to grab my coat. “Heading out already?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Maybe a little afternoon de—and by the look on your face, I should not finish that sentence.”

“You’re not as stupid as you sound. Good to know. And do you mind telling me why I can’t get anything on my computer to work? Again?”

He rolled his eyes. “Because for some reason you seem to think it’s 1997 and that the internet still comes from free AOL discs you get at a place called Blockbuster.” He pushed his glasses back on his nose. “Whatever that is.”

I pointed my finger at him. “I want it working by the time I come in tomorrow. If it’s not, I will take your glasses and shove them up your ass.” I turned for the door.

“You know, with all the things you’ve threatened to shove in me, it’s a wonder Mark doesn’t get more jealous.”

I turned slowly back to look at him.

He blanched. “Um. I didn’t say anything. Ignore me. Go about your business.” The phone rang. “Thank you, Jesus.” He picked up the phone. “Gordo’s, this is Robbie speaking, how can I help you?”

The air was cool when I stepped outside the garage. It made my lungs burn when I took a deep breath. I wanted a cigarette. I reached in my pocket and pulled out a pack of nicotine gum. I tore a piece from the wrapper and crunched it between my teeth. It wasn’t the same.

The blacktop on Main Street was still shiny from where it’d been repaved. The banner on the diner advertising their reopening was faded and flapping in the breeze. People waved at me from the other side of the street as I walked to the truck. I wanted to ignore them, but we couldn’t do that anymore. Not with what the townsfolk now knew. I forced a smile on my face and waved back. It must not have been very convincing, because they quickly walked away.

It was fine.