Page 10 of Frank's Felon
Maybe afterward. . . no, there was no afterward. The longer she stayed in the outskirts of Boulder, the greater the risk grew. She’d barely shaken the two men tailing her in Boulder. While she had changed clothing several times, dying her hair never lasted. Her wolf refused to give up the red. Every time she showered, the hair dye ran free. Her wolf saw the dye as something she needed to heal. Leave it to Delilah to have the one vain wolf in existence.
Delilah quickly donned a fresh pair of jeans, underwear, a soft royal blue button-down top, and a white leather jacket. She hated stealing. Despite everything her alpha had ever said about her, she didn’t enjoy robbing others of their hard-earned money. Survival came first, and the leather was warm and good camo during winter.
The day dragged as Delilah went from store-front to store-front on the main drag of Devil’s Peak. At each store, the managers all denied any knowledge of shifters living nearby. It was as if overnight the small town had gone from a bunch of Chatty Cathies to people whose memories had been wiped. Someone had gotten to them, threatening them not to talk. The situation was infuriating. She had met with several people last week who’d shared what they knew of the local shifters, giving her great intel. That’s how she had found her way to the pack of white wolves and learned about the silver wolf and his pack.
‘Unlike you, I don’t play games.’Why was Frank’s voice suddenly in her head? She wasn’t playing games. Then again, neither was he. She wondered if he would really claim her if he ever caught her in his territory. A heat traveled through her just thinking about wrapping her legs around the shifter. Oh, yes, he would do as he’d promised. The look in his eyes, the way he’d slowly scented her, said as much. She would not escape him. . . and she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
How long had it been since she’d had sex? Too long, but that was her own doing. If she’d taken her time to plan, get in and out unseen, she never would have been caught. She had let her emotions get to her, and they’d made her vulnerable. No, she wasn’t playing any games, but she was quick to learn from her mistakes. The first mistake she had made in life had been to trust other shifters to watch her back.
She had to stop thinking of Frank and keep her mind on her work. Hell, he was screwing with her mind now. Frank was full of talk. Even if he had really wanted her, he wouldn’t have taken her then and there. His promise—histhreat—had been nothing more than male bravado, a tactic to scare her away. At least she hoped so. Because she had to go back into the forest. These packs had the answers she needed.
* * *
FRANK
Frank left Mason and Takara’s house feeling oddly settled for once. The evening had started off awkward, mostly because the little squirt ratted him out numerous times without even realizing it. But Mason and Takara were both resilient shifters in their own right, Takara especially. She had grown up with a lot worse than the occasional swear word. While she tried to shield Frankie from everything that she considered bad—which covered a lot of Frank’s language—she rarely admonished him when it came to her daughter. As for Mason, he was by nature easy going, except when it came to his family’s safety.
Frank envied Mason, not in a jealous type of way. Mason was a lucky son-of-a-bitch to have a mate he had blood-bonded and a precious child like Frankie. She was the light of their lives, and truth be told, Frank’s too. From the moment Frank had been released from prison, they’d referred to him as Uncle Frank. Hell, even before that, from what he had heard in the pack. From the day she had been born, Francesca Iris Grindle had been told about her Uncle Frank. Frank wasn’t related by blood, but Frankie sure made him feel like he was. They were the only family he had since his dad died a year before his release from prison.
Frank still had the baby picture Takara had sent him in prison, along with every letter that had made it through to him—not that there were many. Seven total in five years, thanks to the asshole guards that enjoyed tearing up, burning, or flushing his mail in front of him. Those seven letters had given him the only source of information he had about Frankie and the rest of the pack while he was gone. It wasn’t until he was released that he learned Takara had written to him every week. Fifty-two letters a year for five years. The corrupt judge and guards took his life from him in more ways than one.
“You okay, Frank?” Tess said from across the center of the compound. She was carrying a pile of schoolbooks that given their torn and ratty covers and yellowed pages had seen better days.
“I’m fine. Why?”
“Your expression. . .” The frown she flashed was rather hesitant. Frank took the pile of books from her. “Where are you headed with these?”
“Loading them into the truck. There’s another batch down at the school still. I’m taking them to town as part of a buy-back program. We get a discount on newer books.”
Frank quickly looked at the bindings. “Biology and history. Are we in the new history books?”
“I doubt it, but that’s fine. I’m not sure I’d want the kids to read a biased viewpoint of shifter history. Trent has a curriculum he customized for our history. He’s really good. I’m glad Damien didn’t kill him.”
“Is that a joke?” Frank asked. She didn’t usually joke about the rough start she and Trenton both had with Damien.
“I’m trying to lighten your mood, Frank. It doesn’t seem to be working. What’s eating you?”
“Nothing.” Just a curvy red-head with bright green eyes and a shitload of bite and claw marks she didn’t deserve.
Tess leaned in really close again and sniffed. Her brows knitted together. She had picked up Delilah’s scent no doubt. Tess bit her lip again and for a moment she looked like she was going to cry. Tess was like that, a bit emotional at times, for little things, but he’d never tire of her. She was all heart and really cared about everyone in the pack.
She reached up to his nose and lightly brushed the skin. “Was the fight bad?”
“Are you worried about me all of a sudden?” he said as he set the books down in the back of the truck.
“Always. And there’s a scent on you that’s familiar but not. And blood. And. . .”
“I’m fine, Tess. Small skirmish on the border. Easily handled. And you’re smelling Frankie, maybe Takara. Just came from dinner over there. Takara never lets me leave without a hug. And the squirt is as bad as you, poking a broken nose as if you can’t tell it’s broken just from looking at it.”
“Sorry. Bad habit I suppose. I’m worried about you.”
“If you want to worry about me, then start telling me how to handle Frankie.”
“Why? What’s wrong with Frankie?” Tess’s worried look intensified. Hell, he was always putting his foot in it.
“Nothing. I mean. Everything I say and do is wrong when it comes to her. I’m gonna screw the kid up.”
“Says who?”
