"And I’m not a fool. You’ve not just been looking for a book. You've been poking around, asking a bunch of questions around town." Gerald ignored Huck’s response. "Why?"
Huck shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Our alpha sent us here on a mission. That's all I can say." Huck hadn’t even considered that if they found Gerald, they might find more wolves. Rogues typically traveled in very small numbers because they couldn’t get along. Three or less. And if it was larger than that, they didn’t stay together long because their constant fighting simply got them killed. So to see double the normal numbers together was surprising. That meant they most likely were a group of rogues that had managed to build a hierarchy that kept them under control. Which meant Gerald was a damn dominant wolf.
"No.” The so-called alpha narrowed his eyes. “I think you can say more. If you don't, I'll have to let my wolves loosen your tongue."
Just then, Huck heard the gas station door open, which he assumed was Orson exiting the building. The wolves in front of Huck turned at the sound. Huck didn't waste time. He leaped at Gerald and slashed out a claw. But the alpha was lightning quick. He recovered just in time to duck the swipe, then he buried his fist in Huck's stomach.
Huck’s breath whooshed from his lungs, but he raised up and leapt at the alpha. There were yells and snarls, as the other wolves fell on him. Then all Huck could see was fists, fangs, and claws. He was being pushed around to the back of the building where he knew no one would witness the attack.
“What the hell,” Orson yelled as a pair of wolves broke away from Huck. They were going after his comrade.
Huck snarled and cursed his attackers, and he even managed to get a good hit on one before feeling something hard strike him in the back of his head. He went down in a heap. The world went fuzzy, and he heard ringing in his ears. Everything faded to darkness. He couldn’t have been out longer than a minute or two because when he came to, Huck felt himself being lifted and dragged across the parking lot. He was hoisted up and tossed effortlessly into the back of a van. Huck heard a grunt and turned his head. His vision returned just enough for him to see Orson land beside him like a sack of dirty laundry. He thought his friend was alive, but he certainly wasn't conscious. Pain radiated in his own head, and he fought to stay awake. The last thing Huck heard was squealing tires before the darkness took him under.
Chapter
Twelve
“Growing up is about learning to make hard decisions and sticking by them. It’s about accepting that there are things you cannot change. You can either let them destroy you or make you stronger. It’s about taking a stand that might be unpopular. In short, growing up is damn hard, and there’s no stopping it.” ~Tanya
Tanya was exhausted, both mentally and physically. She had spent the entire day preparing for Lisa’s funeral, something she never thought she would have to do. However, she couldn’t just leave it to Tyler and his pack. Lisa may have been a human member of the Missouri pack, but she was like family to Tanya. They had shared many years of laughter, tears, and complaints about her father, which had cemented a friendship Tanya would treasure for the rest of her life.
Now, Tanya stood in Lisa’s bedroom. She had asked Tyler if she could stay in Lisa’s home until the funeral, which was a few days away. Tanya knew it would probably be the last time she would ever be there again, and her father would expect her home as soon as it was over.
Tanya took a deep breath and let her old friend’s scent saturate her lungs. She looked around the room, reminiscing about the times she had laid on Lisa’s bed, listening to her talk about the drama within the Missouri pack, her life, and her unfulfilled dreams. Tanya could still see Lisa’s smile and the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed. She had a full body laugh that Tanya couldn’t resist joining in with.
As Tanya sat down on the bed, she noticed various medicine bottles lined up neatly on the bedside table. A worn Bible sat by them, and next to that, rested another book with an aged cover. She lifted it and saw the word ‘journal’ written on the front. Tanya scooted over on the bed, pulling her legs up and leaning her back against the headboard. As she crossed her ankles and ran her hand across the cracked cover of the journal, she pursed her lips.
Tanya asked the empty room, “How mad will you be at me if I read your thoughts, old lady?” She imagined Lisa’s spirit sitting there beside her. “It’s not like you can scold me, but I wouldn’t put it past you to haunt me and do scary crap like make doors close on their own and rocking chairs rock with no one sitting in them.” Tanya glanced around the room as if Lisa would suddenly appear and tell her to quit touching her things. Because that’s exactly what Lisa would do and then probably smack Tanya’s hand. Tanya smiled slightly. “Damn, I miss you already.”
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she took a deep breath and blinked them away. Tanya didn’t want to cry anymore, even though she knew there would be many more tears to come. For the moment, she just wanted to stop feeling anything. If she didn’t know that Lisa didn’t drink, she’d go in search of some alcohol. But it took a lot of liquor for one of her kind to get drunk. Not that getting drunk would help anything, Lisa’s voice filled her mind. Not her actual voice, of course, but the memory of something Lisa would have said. “I don’t need your lecture,” Tanya said to the imaginary Lisa. “If I want to get drunk, I damn well will.”
“Could you refrain until I’m there to watch your back?” Dillon’s voice filled her mind.
Dammit. She needed to pay closer attention to the walls. They had come crumbling down earlier that day, and she’d been unable to re-erect them.
“I need some space tonight, Dillon,” she said as gently as she could. He’d been through a lot facing off with vampires and keeping his promise to ensure pack mates stayed alive. Tanya didn’t want to be a bitch even if she was still struggling with their whole situation. She thought maybe she’d be able to talk to him, to ask some questions, but she just didn’t have the energy.
“I hope you’re able to get some rest tonight, mate. If you need me, I’m here.”
He pulled back, and she felt him in the recesses of her mind, far enough away that he was offering her privacy, for which she was very grateful. Not all males would be so accommodating, especially with their unclaimed mate. The males of her kind were possessive, and that was putting it lightly. Dillon was proving that he had some serious self-control and compassion. “Shit.” And she was crying again.
She flipped the journal open, needing her mind to focus on something else, and privately promised Lisa that whatever she read in the pages of the book in her hand, she’d never share with another soul. The pages were aged, showing that this book had been in Lisa’s possession for a very long time.
Dear Journal, the first entry began. There was no date, which Tanya found odd. Didn’t people date their diary entries? Then again, what did she know about journaling? The closest she’d ever come to keeping any sort of journal would be the list of people she wanted to kick in the shins for being jerks. That was a form of a journal, right? She snorted. Lisa would have said absolutely.
I’m not even sure if that’s how I should start each entry. I mean, who is a journal? I suppose I could be talking to God instead of an inanimate object called a journal. Okay, let’s go with that.
Dear God,
This has been a hard day. A hard week. Hell, it’s been a hard month. I feel like I should be pulling myself together, and yet I just find that the best I can do each day is breathe. That’s an accomplishment, isn’t it? If it’s not, then it should be considered one. It needs to be added to the list of things you can get an acknowledgment for. Where? I’ve no clue. Maybe just a shout out from someone on the street who sees that you’re upright, walking, and therefore breathing. Is applause too much to ask for after your husband has died and you’ve somehow managed not to join him six feet under?
Tanya’s mouth dropped open as she reread the paragraph. Lisa had been a widow? How had Tanya not known? Why hadn’t Lisa told her? “I told you everything, you old bitty,” Tanya growled. “And you leave out this very important part of your past? If you were alive right now, I’d throw something at you. And it wouldn’t be something soft.” She blew out a breath and refocused on the page.
How is it possible to be only twenty-five and a widow? Only four years married and now he’s gone. It’s not fair. And I know that life isn’t fair. Really, I do, but it’s so much easier to say that to some other poor chump.
Tanya snorted at her friend’s words. Lisa had always been a sassy pants, even years ago.
But it’s a completely different pill to swallow myself. In fact, I’d rather just vomit that sucker up and have my husband back. Thanks. Today’s one of those days where I can be a smart-ass about it. Tomorrow I’ll most likely be a sobbing mess. Just the other day, I broke down in the grocery line. I dropped my bread and eggs on the ground and ran out like I was being chased by something scary. Which, to be clear, I was. I’m constantly chased by the thoughts of all the things I will never share with the man I expected to spend my life with. What will I do now? I suppose I can become the creepy cat lady. Not crazy because crazy has been overdone. Creepy, however, hasn’t been touched. So I’ll be the creepy cat lady. That’s all I can do tonight. I’m running out of smart-ass things to say, and I’m slipping into my pity party segment of the evening. Goodnight, God. I’ll be talking to you tomorrow. Most likely, it will be every bit as fun as this conversation has been.
