Page 30 of Destined Predator
Because he needs time.
Casey whipped around and narrowed his eyes at his brothers, to see if anyone had actually replied that.Nope, just my conscience.He shook his hair back from his face. He’d been drinking a little the last couple of nights, since the hot tub incident, but it hadn’t taken the edge off thenot-rightandnot-goodache that being apart from Rhett made him feel. It wasn’t hangover ache; it was a pulled line under his ribs, thrumming toward the ranch whether he liked it or not.
He’d tried to resist but had given in earlier and done something that had brought him a measure of relief. Now, he fought the guilt trying to smack him over that, over havingtaken the day off work and indulging himself.Indulging in a little destined mate magic.Only the kind that listened—if Rhett pushed back, the line went slack. That was the rule Casey set himself. He wanted to scoff at the description, but the destined mate bond was as amazing as the one maternal uncle who still spoke to their family had hinted at. As Ben must have discovered, with Jack.
Even if he and Rhett hadn’t discussed being mated. Even if Rhett didn’t know. Even if Casey didn’t know exactly how or what he’d done, to be able to share such intimacy…without being physically together with Rhett. It was still mind-blowing.
“Whoo-wee.” Bob Evans, concerned citizen and gossip, pulled his trucker cap off his thinning hair, scratched his head then replaced his cap, this time backward. He came over and studied the graffiti that Emil was scrubbing off the front of the premises.
The damage that had been done early that morning hadn’t been much. Casey, feeling something wrong as the day had worn on, had called Ben, who’d told him. Of course Casey had come to help and had already replaced the window. Ben was sweeping up the glass inside and checking customers’ cars were unharmed.
“Who the hell could have done this?” Bob asked.
“Kids. Idiots,” Casey replied, realizing what he’d said when Emil and Robin exchanged glances and Emilaccidentallysloshed dirty water over his boots.
“‘GET OUT. YOU DON’T BELONG HERE.’” Bob traced the crooked spray, the Y slashed twice like fangs.
“We came here a year ago,” Robin replied.
“Well, most families have been here a bit longer’n that,” Bob said. “Some of ’em since the founding.”
Like the Tuckers.Casey waited until old Bob had wandered off before indicating to his brothers that they should go inside to join Ben. “Do you have any idea who could have done this? I’mwondering about that crazy ex of Jack’s,” he said in the garage’s tiny office.
“You’re not blamingJackfor this!” Ben’s voice sounded high with incredulity.
“Did I say that? Of course not, any more than I’m blaming you. But wasn’t that guy a mean drunk?”
“He went to rehab and made amendsandhe’s in New York City.” Ben closed a ledger with a snap. “Which makes it more likely to be some crazy ex of Rhett’s, if you ask me.”
Emil sniggered, not even pretending he hadn’t when Casey glared at him.
“That chick who’s back in town?” Ben continued. “Woman he used to date? Denice told Lacey, when she arrived at work, that Rhett had been right there in the Meadowlark with her.”
So somebody clocked it, then. In this town, “seen with” turned into “back together” before the coffee cooled.
The hell?Heaviness settled over Casey, that same creeping sensation that had made him come here to the garage on hearing about the vandalism. His brothers could have dealt with the clean-up, but he hadn’t wanted them here alone. The girls were fine where they were at work, Lacey in the diner and Anne in her office. His coywolf stretched inside him, wanting to howl, wanting to run…needing out.
He wandered out to the forecourt and watched as a motorbike pulled in. A courier? Didn’t those fleets have their own garages and mechanics?
“Akers?” the guy called, stopping but not shutting off his engine, and bending to get into his leather bag.
“Yeah. We can probably fit you in. What’s wrong?” Casey answered.
“No—delivery.” The courier waved an envelope.
Casey took it. “Who’s it from?” he asked, ripping it open…to see a photograph of a coywolf—in mid-shift. Him! Blurry,distance lens, but clear enough—the flexing muzzle, human eyes gone gold, the telltale half-hand-half-paw. Not random wildlife. Them.
He grabbed the other two photos with it. More of the same and all from the other night, the pack run. Bits of the others were visible—Lacey’s tail, Emil’s paw… Someone knew about them!
“Hey!” he yelled at the guy, who was trying to turn in a circle, preparing to leave. “Who sent these?”
“How should I know?” the courier retorted, driving around him. “Ask at head office, dude. They might tell you, might not.”
About to yell at him, Casey saw there was something else with the photos. A simple printed note.
AKERS LEAVE TOWN OR GAME IS UP
Heat flashed, hot enough to peel paint. He wanted to shred something with his teeth. Instead he folded the note once, twice, until the paper creaked like bone.
