Page 29 of Marked By Moonlight

And this, he judged by her nervous little laugh, was something both women hoped to avoid.

“I’d love to come over for dinner. I’ve heard you make a mean pot roast.” It seemed like a safe guess.

“Oh.” She laughed and glanced to the door as if it could speak on Claire’s behalf. “We’d be thrilled to have you over—that is if it’s okay with Claire.”

“It might be sooner than you think,” Gideon replied, feeling only a twinge of guilt at the hopeful gleam entering Claire’s mother’s eyes. He could almost see the wedding plans formulating in her head.

“Wonderful. I’ll look forward to it.” She looked down at the keys in her hand as if suddenly remembering her purpose. “I’m here to get Molly. Claire’s at our lake house.” Her brow wrinkled. “You didn’t know that?”

He made a display of slapping his forehead. “Oh, that’s right.”

She smiled tentatively, and he wondered if it struck her as odd that an alleged boyfriend didn’t remember when his girlfriend went out of town. It certainly would send a red flag up in his face. That Mrs. Morgan didn’t possess a discerning nature was fortunate for him.

“Yes, she said she wanted to get away for a bit, and we hardly ever use the place. I sometimes wonder why we even bought it.”She shrugged and unlocked the door. “Just glad to see it get some use.”

“Sure.” He nodded, forcing himself not to ask which lake.

“Well, it was nice meeting you.” Mrs. Morgan hovered in the doorway. “I hope Claire brings you around soon.”

“Me, too,” he murmured, trying to keep the anxiousness from his voice. He had a lead, and as soon as Claire’s mother left he could work on developing that lead.

He tossed out a quick good-bye and waited impatiently in his Jeep until Mrs. Morgan stepped back out of the apartment with Molly tucked in her arms. The instant she exited the parking lot he broke in to Claire’s apartment by way of the sliding glass door.

This time he inspected her apartment carefully, with deliberation—not the idle inspection of that first night, when he broke inside to rid the world of another lycan menace.

He knew what to look for this time. Knowing the address wouldn’t be plastered to her wall, he started with her journal. Finding no mention of the lake house in the pages of painstakingly neat handwriting, he dug through drawers as immaculate and organized as the rest of her apartment. He eventually pulled a floral print box from beneath the bed. Inside he found photo albums. Sitting on the floor, he browsed through pictures, catching himself smiling at Claire in different stages of life. His smile slipped when he came to a teenage Claire on a boat, looking distinctly uncomfortable with a fishing pole in her hands and her father looking on with a critical expression.

He turned the page, the plastic crackling in the silent apartment. His heart skipped when he came to the photo he’d been waiting for. Claire, her parents, and an elderly couple—grandparents, he guessed from their resemblance to her father—posed in front of a restaurant, the name of which was boldly displayed abovetheir heads. Riverside Bar and Grill. He dropped the album and pulled out his phone. In moments, he had a list of Riverside Bar and Grill restaurants. He narrowed his search to the state of Texas and arrived at two restaurants. One in downtown San Antonio on the Riverwalk and another located in Canyon Lake. Last he heard there weren’t any lake houses along the Riverwalk.

For the first time in days, the knot in his chest loosened. A grim smile spread across his face. One more search and he had the address of one Michael Morgan, Canyon Lake, Texas.

“Claire, baby,” he vowed, slipping out of her apartment, an excited thrill coursing through him, “I’m coming for you.”

CHAPTEREIGHT

Even trained dogs need instruction.

—Man’s Best Friend: An Essential Guide to Dogs

Arms stuffed with grocery bags, Claire kicked the door shut and weaved her way into the small kitchen. After a morning idly strolling antique stores and then grocery shopping, she had almost convinced herself that everything was normal, that she was on a holiday. Almost.

Unpacking her groceries, she paused to rip open the expensive deli cheese, roll a slice, and take a bite. Her tongue savored the woody flavor as she continued putting her hoard of food into the refrigerator. The blinking red light on her parents’ ancient answering machine caught her eye. Cell reception was spotty out here, so her mom kept a landline and an old-school answering machine. She punched play and reached for the can of Reddi-wip. Swallowing her last bite of cheese, she tilted her head back, opened her mouth wide, and squirted the luscious whipped cream onto her tongue.

Her mother’s voice filled the air, assuring her that Molly was safe and sound. Claire pulled a face at the machine. Disloyal cat. “Should have bought a dog,” Claire mumbled, crouching down tostore the fresh vegetables in the bottom drawer, fending off feelings of resentment over her cat’s betrayal.

“… Oh, and I bumped into your friend Gideon. Such a nice young man, very handsome…”

Claire stood so fast her head smacked against the freezer door she had left swinging open.

Rubbing the top of her head, she scowled at the machine, her unease exploding into full panic as her mother went on to say, “I told him you should bring him to dinner when you get back from the lake…”

With her heart in her throat, Claire spun around, desperate to put as much distance between herself and the cabin as possible. Only she collided into a wall. A wall that hadn’t been there a moment before.

With a cry, she staggered back, crashing into the open refrigerator door. The bottles and jars lining the door rattled noisily. Had she been small enough, she would have crawled inside the refrigerator and closed the door. But she wasn’t. She had nowhere to run. Her eyes lifted and settled on a furious Gideon March.

He twirled a pair of handcuffs on his index finger and took a menacing step forward. “You have no idea how much trouble you’ve put me through.”

Obviously not enough. He had found her. No thanks to her mother.

---