Page 16 of Tested
I wake up an hour or so before sunset. Trajan’s still asleep but Connor’s already gone. He’s left me a note, though.
Going to meet with Smith. Text me if you’re willing to play junior investigator.
Text Connor?What would I say?My hand reaches for my phone on autopilot, but rather than text him I stand there staring at nothing. Trajan wants me to run a restaurant and Connor apparently meant it when he offered me a chance to be his partner. I’m torn between saying yes to both because Connor and Trajan have done so fucking much for me and refusing them both because I don’t want another hand-out.
What do you want to do, David?My mind poses the question like I’m my own internal therapist. What do I want to do?
My phone chirps, startling me so badly I almost drop the damned thing. It’s Sheena.
Get dressed. I’ll be there in twenty. Try to look like you’re related to the American Alpha.
I stare at my phone, unable to decide whether to text her back with a request for more information or to do what she says because otherwise she’ll kick my ass. Deciding to treat this as a handy reason to avoid making a real decision, I jog up the stairs to my room.
My closet, however, doesn’t want to play ball. From her snarky comment about how I should dress, she probably wants some kind of business suit. With my wardrobe spread between Seattle and LA – and a goodly chunk having gone up in smoke – the pickings are slim. I really miss my Fleuvog boots, because the stacked heel made me taller than pint-sized.
Sadly, they’re just a memory. Besides, Iamthe son of the American Alpha, no matter what I choose to wear.
I settle on a pair of jeans so tight I need the slits in the knees to bend my legs, and a vintage polo in watermelon pink. I pull my too-long hair into a knot at the nape of my neck and put on a pair of tortoiseshell Ray-Bans and a pukka shell necklace.Voila! Make it ’80s, but NOW!
Sheena texts me to say she’s in the driveway and I stalk outside, because stalking is all I can do in these jeans. She drives a late-model CRV with a black box of I-probably-don’t-want-to-know-what in the back seat. I climb in, ignoring her obligatory eye-roll.
“Your Mama taught you to dress like that?”
I give her all-black ensemble a snide once-over. “Yup.”
My Mama taught me all kinds of things. She’d also reconnected me to my bank accounts and credit cards. Getting cut out of the pack had done a number on my finances, but she’d fixed it, saying I might not be pack, but I’m still family. I have a little savings and some room on my Visa. Getting a job is important, but I have time for Sheena’s adventure.
She doesn’t say much as we wind down out of the hills and onto Wilshire Boulevard. I can’t help but fidget, and after one irritable huff too many, I snap. “Where the hell are we going?”
“Downtown.”
“Well thank you very much. I feel so enlightened now.”
“I have half a mind to take you to a Men’s Wearhouse and make you buy a decent suit.”
“Hey, my bits are covered. That’ll have to do.”
She huffs again and I count to ten. I mean, there’s cryptic and then there’s rude. “Is there a reason you’re not telling me where we’re going?”
“Because, sunshine, I’m a little nervous about our reception.”
“That’s…on point.” I shoot her a sidelong glance. “Would you care to elaborate?”
“I’m not completely sure I can. I got a text from Lydia saying she’s been called out by the leader of another pack and asking for back-up.”
Okay, now I’m confused. “Lydia the lesbian biker chick?”
“Biker chick,” she snorts. “I wouldn’t say that to her face.”
We roll on down Wilshire into Koreatown. “When you say someone called her out, what does that mean, exactly?”
“You’re the werewolf. You tell me.”
“I think it means someone wants to take over her pack.”
“Maybe. I’m not sure.” She negotiates our way around a driver who’s a good fifteen years too old to be on the road. “Her pack is small, and she controls an area from Santa Monica Boulevard to the north and the Ten to the south, then Western Avenue to La Cienega. Apparently the Los Feliz pack wants a chunk of her territory.”
I shrug, because yeah, werewolves gonna werewolf. “They offer her anything in return, or just threaten to kill her?”
