Austin swung a hard fist right over my head and it cracked against Jericho’s face. Jericho spun around and hit the floor. Shocked, I stumbled forward and turned around. Austin glared at Jericho so hard he could have torched him with the fire in his eyes.
“Do not call Lexi a bitch, are we clear? Let that be the golden rule of this motherfucking pack. Spread the word.”
And just like that, Austin Cole stood up for me. Not because of pride, male territorial instinct, family obligation, or even jealousy. But because it was something that mattered… to me.
* * *
Austin kept his word and drove me home to my apartment. We had a brief argument in the car because he’d left Jericho bleeding on the floor without so much as an apology. He reassured me a Shifter heals when they shift back and forth from their animal to human form soon after injury, but Jericho was too proud and he would probably wear that shiner. I didn’t get the guy thing, and I especially didn’t understand the dynamic between brothers. My brother had never punched me for calling someone a name.
Naya must have heard me tromping up the stairs and swung open her door. Cotton balls were stuffed between her cherry-red toenails.
“Why is your bra hanging out of your pants?” She snatched it and dangled it in front of my face.
I yanked it away and she widened her gossip-loving grin.
“Your hair isn’t brushed, either!” she said excitedly. “Who were you with? I want all the juicy details.”
“Not now, Naya.” I fumbled with my keys.
“Someone was looking for you.”
My back straightened and I curved around, watching her blow on her fingernails.
“Who?”
“That cop from the other night. Are you in some kind of trouble? This time it wasn’t about the neighbor downstairs.”
“Uh…” My mind went blank. Maybe Beckett was trying to get me in trouble. I bent over the railing to see if my car had been stolen, but it was still there. “I don’t know. That’s weird. Are you sure it wasn’t about the neighbor? I’m not going to the station to file a complaint, if that’s what he wants.”
She hobbled toward her door, walking on her heels so her pedicure wouldn’t be ruined. “He’s either gay, has a thing for you, or you’re in trouble. But the man wanted nothing to do with me.”
“Did you tell him anything?”
Personal stuff is what I meant. I didn’t know who this guy was and the last thing I wanted to worry about was him tracking me down at work. Of course, he was a cop, and I’m sure he could have figured it out.
“Nope. You know me better than that. He asked where you might be staying and that was a stop sign for me. Cops don’t chase you all over town unless they have a warrant for your arrest, or want in your panties.”
“Don’t tell him where my mom lives,” I said. “If he comes around again, just tell him I moved to South America or something.”
“Will do, chickypoo.”
I tossed the keys on the bar and slammed the door. The red light on my answering machine blinked with sixteen messages.
The first was from April. “Alexia, where are you? It’s ten and you’re still not here. Hello?”
The next two were also from April, with the last one saying to give her a call because she was worried. We didn’t hang out together outside of work, but April was a likable girl and I knew she was genuinely concerned and not just bitter about having to run the store by herself.
The next eight were from Beckett. Two of the messages were apologies and on the rest he hung up, although one of them creeped me out because I could hear him breathing on the other end.
Two other messages were hang-up calls, and the number was blocked on my machine.
“Hi, I’m trying to reach Alexia Knight. This is Officer McNeal; I dropped in the other night for a disturbance. I need to speak with you on an unrelated case. It’s about your father. I’ll be stopping by this evening.”
He hung up and I hit pause and grabbed a pen, jotting down the number on the machine. When I resumed playback, I heard another familiar voice.
“Alexia, it’s Lorenzo Church. You tried selling me your car, but I was more intrigued by the driver. Sorry I missed you. I’ll give you my number and leave the ball in your court. I’m interested, and I’d like to take you out. Maybe lunch and conversation, so give me a call.”
He left his number and I scribbled it on a napkin. I wrote his name above it and doodled, making his O’s into smiley faces.
