Page 29 of Pack Deception: Part Two

She sneers at me. “Amanda.” Oops. “As if you didn’t already know that.” Her mouth opens like she’s about to say something else when Wells interrupts her.

“Back. Up.”My own blood runs cold at the alpha bark in his voice, and it’s not even directed at me. Ambe–Amanda–whimpers, bares her neck, and stumbles back at least five steps. “Get in the car, Summer.” When he addresses me, his voice is much softer. But I can still hear the seriousness in it. So I don’t hesitate. The SUV is once again in the reserved spot a few feet away. I half-jog to it, jumping into the passenger seat, and watch through the tinted window as Wells says something else to Amanda that has her nodding vigorously and scampering away.

A gun I didn’t even see him draw gets placed back in the concealed holster he’s got inside the waistband of his jeans, and then he’s stalking toward the driver’s seat.

Inside the car, he puts on his belt, places the car in reverse, and backs out of the spot. I jerk forward when he changes gears faster than normal, but I don’t say a word. Not until he does. But he doesn’t. All the way out of the garage and through the Chicago rush-hour traffic, Wells is silent. I’m starting to sweat.

Finally, I break. “Are you mad at me?”

His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel for a second before they relax. A breath spills from him, and the tension from his shoulders along with it. “No, Summer. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself.”

I frown at him. “Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I did. You never walk in front of me again, okay? That was my fault. I should have walked out first. But please… just, wait next time. Deal?” He glances my way when I’m silent a beat too long. I don’t like that he’s beating himself up over nothing. Over an annoying ex. Part of me wants to say something else that’ll absolve him from whatever he’s feeling right now. But I incline my head at him instead.

“Thank you. Fuck, they’re going to rip me a new one.” I’m not sure whether he’s talking about my pack or his own team members.

“Don’t tell them.” His head whips toward mine, eyes incredulous. I shrug. “I’m serious. What good could it possibly do? Nobody was hurt. We learned our lesson. I walk behind you from now on. Done.”

He narrows his eyes at me for a beat before turning back to the road. “You’d lie to your pack?” When he says it like that…

“It’s notlying.If they ask me directly, I’ll tell the truth. We’re just omitting a very unimportant detail. We’ll still tell them we ran into Amanda. They’ll want to know that. But it was uneventful, and you took care of it. End of story.” That really is the truth. So I don’t feel too bad not giving them the version of events Wells is beating himself up over.

A long stretch of silence fills the cab before he gives a reluctant nod.

Ten minutes later, we’re walking through the connecting garage door into the house. Where Maverick is sitting on one of the couches, legs spread open in a lazy, relaxed position, and he’s staring at the phone in his hand. He’s already in a pair of light gray sweatpants and a loose-fitting black T-shirt. Which means he’s been home from work for a minute, probably. Brooklyn is also on her phone, but she’s leaning against one of the floor-to-ceiling glass panes overlooking the backyard, talking to someone on the other line. Two fingers are pressed against the bridge of her nose, and she’s scowling. So, it’s going well.

I don’t see Hudson or Mason right away, but footsteps start thundering from upstairs, drawing nearer. Two shaggy blond heads of hair pop into view a second later, one longer and the other cropped short. They’re nudging at each other and racing down the steps toward me. Hudson beats Mason, sweeping me into a crushing hug and sealing his lips to mine. A grumbled “asshole”comes from Mason. Hudson sets me down but doesn’t let go, grabbing my hands instead. On his way past us, Mason doesn’t miss the opportunity to smack my butt before he jogs over to where Maverick is.

He flops down gracelessly onto the couch, laying horizontally with his head in Maverick’s lap. It doesn’t make Maverick look away from his phone, but his free hand does come up automatically to run his fingers through Mason’s hair in a tender, loving way that makes my heart happy.

“Well, it’s about fucking time you guys got your heads out of your asses!” Hudson booms, leading me to one of the other couches, and pulls me down into his lap.

“My head was not in my ass, thank you very much,” Mason says, popping his lips at the end of his sentence for some extraoomph,I guess.

“What’s up, Wells?” Brooklyn frowns, walking over from where she must have just gotten off the phone and interrupting whatever verbal sparring match these three were about to get into.

With a glance at Wells, I understand why Brooklyn asked. Instead of dropping me inside and walking around the house like he had done before, Wells stuck around. His eyes look around at my mates with an uneasy expression that suggests he’d rather jump into a pool of piranhas than tell a littlefiblike we talked about. So, I save him from it.

“He’s just swallowed a lemon because he had to deal with Amanda trying to accost me after work.” I roll my eyes, but Hudson goes rigid beneath me.

“Shewhat?” His words are whispered, but everyone in the room must hear because their scents start to sour. The living room, which a moment ago smelled like the most tantalizing mix of summer rain and lavender, citrus and bourbon, now smells like a burning field of grass and rotten fruit.

Hudson’s fingers flex on my hip, Maverick has finally abandoned his phone, and Mason is sitting upright, elbows on his knees as he leans in to hear the full story. While he is usually the one not to overreact–to be level-headed always–his eyes are burning with intensity.

“What happened?” Brooklyn says in the same calm voice Hudson used. I fill them in on what happened–truly, not much if you ask me–and then Brooklyn turns to Wells, who is still lingering in the room.

“What did she say to you when Summer was in the car?”

“That she just wanted to talk. I didn’t give her the chance to say anything else before telling her to kick rocks.” Wells’ eyes darken, too. But not for the same reason as my mates. I’m sure he’s roiling in a pool of self-hatred for his perceived fault.

So, I try to lighten the mood. “You mean before you barked at her to kick rocks.”

Only Mason smiles.

“That fucking cunt. I get a restraining order against her, so she reacts by going after Summer.” Hudson is vibrating under me. “You’re getting one, too. All of you are.”

I startle. “Don’t you think that’s a little much?”

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