Page 39 of Redeemed
Her grin shines through the gloom. “I imagine they’ll have something vampire-friendly.”
Half-convinced this is a bad idea, I follow her. We retrace our route to the motel and go past it around the block.
Chuckie’s turns out to be another low-profile building with white walls and a red roof, a look that seems to be a theme for the desert. If the hostess is put off by our unwashed appearance, she doesn’t let it show. She points us to a table by the front window, but Cliffe asks for a table in the corner and she obliges.
The room is spacious, the walls divided by a chair rail molding, the bottom half painted saffron yellow and the top white. We sit across from each other—I grab the seat with my back to the wall so I can see the whole room—and manage to avoid any conversation at all while she pours our water.
Cliffe orders a beer and I ask for tequila. Again, the waitress doesn’t miss a beat and heads off toward the bar. Either she’s a little stoned or this place gets more than its share of weirdos.
Jacques’ voice is a distant echo, easily ignored. The silence grows heavy by the time the waitress brings our drinks. I’m not sure I want to break it, but I raise my glass. “Here’s to keeping secrets.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Cliffe knocks her glass against mine. “Does that mean you’re not going to tell me why you smell like a wolf pack?”
“I smell like your pack or just any wolf pack?”
“Any. My pack, well, that’s another story.”
One I’m not sure I want to hear. Swirling the tequila in my glass, I weigh how much to say. “I’m not sure I can explain.”
“Try me.”
I can’t really see a reason not to give her a brief answer. “One of my boyfriends got cut out of his pack and more or less bonded with me and our third.”
“More or less bonded? He can’t just make his own pack. Is your third a wolf?”
“Nope.”And I’mreallynot going to get into any long stories about Connor.
“You know that’s not possible. What you just said. Wolves who get cut out of their pack die. They don’t make themselves a new pack, and especially not with not-wolves.”
“You asked. I told you.” I shrug, hoping she’ll leave it alone.
Yeah, like that’s possible.
She’s midway through a swallow of beer when she chokes. “Oh shit.” She forces the words out between coughing spasms. “One of Alpha Collins’ kids got cut out of his pack and then took down his uncle inbeurteilung. You’re in a pack with a Collins. That has to be it.”
I push the hair out of my face, reluctant to say the words out loud.
“Fine. I’m right. Your poker face isn’t all that. So tell me why you’re here instead of with your pack?”
I look for answers in the bottom of my tequila shot. “It’s complicated.”
“Sure.” She laughs. “Complicated like you pissed your boyfriend off or complicated like being a psychic lesbian werewolf living in the desert?”
“Neither, really, although you get points for honesty.” I give her an appraising look. Under the dirt there’s a young woman with good bone structure and an intelligent gaze.
And every IQ point in her gaze tells me to back the fuck off. “If you’re in a pack with one of the Collins kids, you outrank me, and either way you could just whammy me.”
“Whammy you?”
“Take over my brain and force me to tell you the truth.”
I grin at my tequila. “Do I seem like the whammy-ing type?”
“Vampire, dude. It comes with the territory.”
I use a long sip of tequila to give myself time to think. Having a psychic at hand might come in useful. “I did wonder about that thing you said yesterday.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about it. I never remember what my other sense says.”
