Page 5 of Defeated

Meaningless babble. Small talk that went on for ten minutes at the diners I stopped at. Gas station owners who needed me to know about every facet of their day.

It is… exhausting to be around people who don’t know how to be quiet. Or maybe the problem is I’ve forgotten how to be around people.

My cell phone vibrates in my jeans pocket, and I pull it free, glancing down at the message that flashes across the screen.

Colton: You there yet?

Recalling our phone call nearly an hour before, when he wanted me to let him know I was close, I type out a quick response.

Me: Just got here

Colton: You want to look at the top right-hand side of the door.

I return my phone to my pocket and take a second to scan my surroundings.

Everyone must be at work on this early afternoon. I’m the only one—other than my hidden observer—on the street.

In the distance, the low hum of traffic is barely audible on this suburban side street.

My gaze settles on an ugly lime green Toyota where my wolf is insistent that my observer is somewhere there. But whoever it is, from my wolf’s growls to keep alert rather than to attack, he doesn’t view them as a threat.

Yet.

I could investigate, but I’m curious. About who it is, what they want, and what they’ll do.

Turning away from the Toyota, I jog up Colton’s townhouse’s stairs, peel off his spare key from where he told me I could find it, and I unlock the door, pushing it open.

A faint mustiness greets me. Colton came to Winter Lake nearly two weeks ago, and it’s clear from the smell that his apartment needs airing out.

Still curious about my observer, I snag an entryway table and head back to the U-Haul. As I put the table in the back of the truck, I linger, waiting to see if I can tempt my observer to come closer.

If they wanted to attack, surely they’d have done it already. So why hang back? What are they waiting for?

When the streets remain quiet and still, I slam the door shut and swing back into Colton’s townhouse, leaving the front door open a crack.

I make my way through the entryway and into a front room that looks out onto the street through large bay windows.

It’s a masculine space. A navy couch and a matching armchair point toward a flat screen TV hanging on a wall. All the furniture is dark wood, including a jampacked bookcase. I spy gardening books mixed in with thrillers, mysteries, and a couple of fantasies.

Colton is a little like me, not fond of being around a lot of people or for too often. He would want to spend more time in his home than he would want to go out.

Since I’m about to spend the next couple of days packing up his apartment for his permanent move to Winter Lake, I might pick a book to read tonight.

I intend to keep my eyes and ears open.

Given Colton dodged trouble bad enough to nearly kill him, I’m starting to believe the person out there watching me isn’t a friend but an enemy.

I crack open one of the large bay windows, draw in a deep breath, and turn to take in the work I have ahead of me.

The bookcase first, then the kitchen, I decide. Those will be the biggest jobs, and it’ll mean when Colton and Penny arrive, we can tackle the furniture together.

I told Penny I would pick up the U-Haul so she could stay in bed with Colton a little longer. Because Penny… I almost smile when an image of my red-headed and bubbly packmate’s blearily eyed face settles in my mind.

Penny is not a morning person. The day she is, is the day the world is ending.

Another trip to the U-Haul to grab the stack of flat boxes and tape proves uneventful. But I sense whoever is doing the watching has crept closer.

Good.

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