I crawl over her and weave my fingers into her hair. “Was I too rough?”
She blinks at me. “You’re always too rough, but now I know why. And I think it’s pretty hot.”
I’m not prepared for the sensations her words produce. First of all, I’m not used to that soft, intimate voice she’s using with me. Nor am I used to the way she watches me, her face open and trusting. But hearing the lust in her voice, her approval of my wolf makes him stand up and preen.
But she’s not supposed to know about me. It’s pack law. Violations require remedies like having her mind wiped by a leech. Which I know they have plenty of in Tucson. Garrett, the Tucson pack leader and our alpha’s son has a tenuous alliance with them, but I know the wolves don’t like how many vampires have moved in.
I sit back on my haunches and scrub my hand over my five o’clock shadow. Or in this case, I guess it’s a midnight shadow.
“I have your word about the wolf thing,” I remind her.
“To the grave,” she answers.
“I’m not going to answer questions about it. The less you know, the better. Understand?”
She doesn’t like that, I can tell from the little puff of disappointment that comes from her, but she nods.
“Now you spill.”
She rolls away from me and sits up, sliding off the bed.
Stalling.
She picks up her panties from the floor and slips them on. Armoring up with clothing for her talk with me.
“Sloane.”
She turns and looks at me with those stunning copper-brown eyes.
“Leave your clothes off. Come here.” I pull the bedcovers back to offer her their shelter if she’s cold.
But the moment of openness and trust is gone. She ignores my demand and walks back to the kitchen to get her t-shirt. She comes back with it on, although she left the bra off.
“What’s the money for?”
She sighs and walks back to the bed, climbing under the covers, but never meeting my gaze.
I’ve been thinking about it a lot since she told me about her dad and how she ended up in Arizona. I even Googled to read a couple news stories about his arrest and death.
“One of his associates… “
My attention sharpens to a point. Somehow I know whatever she’s about to tell me is bad.
She swallows. “I think he’s mafia. My dad was mixed up with him somehow. I don’t know—it never came out in the court case against him.
“He showed up right after my dad died in jail, demanding his cut. He seems to think my dad had some assets that weren’t seized by the FBI and that I would know where they are. They were going to kill me, or sell me, so I lied. I told him I still had boxes of his stuff and would find it all, but I seriously don’t have a clue. The boxes were just clothes. I donated all of them and threw away any letters my dad sent from jail without opening them.
This guy told me he’d be gone to Sicily for a few months and said I needed to have it figured it out by the time he got back. I have no idea how much time I have left. In the meantime, his goons show up every week or so to lean on me.
“So I’ve been stealing cars and saving up. Hoping I can produce enough to mollify him when he comes back. Or make a run for it.” Her voice chokes, and I reach for her, half certain she’ll fight me off.
She lets me hold her, though. I lie down beside her and wrap her in my arms. She tucks her face against my chest. The scent of her tears does something crazy to me. Shreds my chest open. Makes my wolf want to howl.
“That’s bullshit, Sloane. If you don’t have the assets, you don’t have them.”
“I know, but I guess they think if they squeeze me hard enough I’ll magically produce them. Last time they stopped by, they threatened to sell my cousin Rikki, too.”
White hot rage mingles with icy dread flush my system at the same time, making my skin prickle and electricity crackle in my joints. “I’ll fucking kill them,” I growl, and I mean it.
I may have been horrified at what I did to the car jacker a few hours ago, but right now I’d be happy to murder for Sloane again. Over and over again until every threat against her is gone.
She tries to push away from me. “No. These guys are really dangerous. And it’s probably a big network. I mean, the boss would just send someone else.”
I go silent, my mind whipping around the problem. “How much do they say you owe them?”
“He says my dad had six gold bars the size of an iPhone and some little painting of a bird. I don’t know what my dad was into with these guys or why they think I have this stuff. It’s all just fuck-nuts crazy.”