Page 71 of What a Wolf Demands

Her throat burned so badly she wasn’t sure she could answer. But she managed a hoarse “okay.”

He didn’t say anything else. The SUV hit the causeway, the road smoothing out underneath them.

She faced ahead, pushing aside all thoughts of her friend and the basement and the stern, complicated male behind the wheel.

That left nothing but the rain. It filled her vision and her ears, blocking everything out. Leaving her alone.

Right back where she started.

11

It was a good thing he couldn’t catch human illnesses, because the pay phone booth had to be the most disgusting place he’d ever been.

Not that it could really be called a “place,” Dom thought as he waited for Remy to finish taking notes. A yellowed phone book dangled from a chain bolted to one of the glass panels. The phone itself was long gone, the panel where it once stood decorated with an assortment of old chewing gum and various graffiti.

Whomever “baby girl” was, Dom hoped she knew how much “bad boi” loved her—a sentiment he seemed most comfortable expressing by describing intimate parts of her anatomy in poorly rhymed couplets.

At least the rain had stopped.

Remy’s sigh was heavy over the line. “Okay, I think I got everything. You said the third guy was named Bruno?”

“That’s right.”

“Hmmm.” There was the sound of flipping pages. “Probably Bruno Hebert. He’s the only loup-garou listed in our records as having a sister.”

Dom grunted.

“Can you confirm with Lily?” Remy asked. “She’d know for sure.”

It was a reasonable request—and one Dom couldn’t fulfill. At least not right now. He looked toward the idling SUV, its low beams the only source of light on the dark, lonely stretch of highway. Lily sat in the car, her face a pale oval in the gloom. She hadn’t spoken since they left Bon Rêve.

And she was close to breaking down.

“Dom?” Remy’s voice held a note of concern.

Dom gripped his cell more tightly, his gaze on Lily. “Later, all right? I don’t want to bring all that up at the moment.”

A chair squealed on Remy’s end. He was back in Max’s office, but the gravity of the situation meant he was alone this time. He lowered his voice. “She okay?”

“No.”

There was a long pause, as if Remy was deciding what to say next.

Dom bit back his own sigh. “Ask.”

To his credit, Remy didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Can you handle this?”

“I’m fine.”

“She’s suffered a loss.”

“You think I don’t know that?” He’d seen the blood spray from Bart’s neck with his own eyes.

Remy grew quiet, which was uncharacteristic for him.

Suspicious.

Weariness tugged at Dom. He’d been driving for hours—and squinting against rain for most of it. On the plus side, the shitty weather had kept traffic to a minimum. He’d taken advantage of the deserted roads—getting him and Lily as far away from Bon Rêve as possible.

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