“See what?”
“The blood.”
Max lifted a brow. “Dude, maybe we can set you up with that shrink who talked to Cooper a while ago. He might even be able to text you her number, so you can call her now.”
“I don’t need to talk to a shrink,” Remy ground out.
Max looked doubtful. “I think maybe you do, because there’s no blood on your hands—figurative or otherwise.”
Remy stared down at his hands. “That’s funny, because I see it all the time.” He pinned Max with a look. “Watch someone you love die in your arms when you could have done something to prevent it, then tell me there’s no blood on your hands.”
Max sighed. “Okay. You blame yourself for your partner’s death. I get that. I hate to tell you this, but none of that matters. Because whether you want it to happen or not, Triana is The One for you. You’re going to have to come up with a way to deal with that.”
Remy didn’t bother denying it this time, not even to himself. He shook his head in disgust at his own stupidity. The moment he’d seen Triana on the dance floor, he’d known there was something special there. He should have run the other fucking way then, but instead he’d convinced himself he could reach out and play with fire for a little while and not get burned by the werewolf legend that had bonded the other members of his pack with their soul mates.
He’d been wrong.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or throw up. Of all the guys in the Pack who’d been secretly looking forward to finding The One for them, it had happened to him, the one werewolf who’d been praying it wouldn’t.
The irony wasn’t lost on him.
Max sat there silently, apparently waiting for Remy to wake up and realize there was nothing he could do about the situation and that he was simply going to have to accept it.
Panic punched him in the gut. After what he’d gone through with Jess, not to mention the aftermath, he promised himself he’d never get close to anyone else. The mere thought of going through the pain of seeing another woman he loved die in his arms was almost enough to bring another shift on.
“I’m not going to deal with it,” he told Max. “This is my fucking life and I’m not going to let some stupid legend decide how I live it. When I go back to Dallas, I’m going without Triana.”
Max regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then snorted. “That’s your big plan? You’re going to stand up to this magical force from the cosmos that has been making some of the strongest werewolves in the Pack jump through hoops and just tell it to fuck off?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Remy growled.
Max reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, yanking out enough twenties to cover both their meals. It was only right, since the waffle-fry-stealing punk had eaten most of the food anyway.
After tossing the money on the table, Max gave him a curious look. “I’ve come to the conclusion that you have a frigging screw loose, so I’ve stopped expecting anything you say to make sense, but let me ask you one thing. What the hell are you so worried about?”
Remy swallowed hard. “I’m worried that I’ll have to live every second of my life looking over my shoulder, worried a mistake I make is going to get Triana killed.”
Max shook his head. “Yup, you’re beyond mental. Damn, Remy. Triana isn’t Jess. She’s not a cop; she’s a scientist in a lab, complete with the funny white jacket and a magnifying glass. She’s not in any danger.”
Remy got up from the table and headed for the door, not even bothering to reply. Max wouldn’t get it. How could he explain his gut was screaming that if he gave in and let Triana into his life, she’d be the one that would pay for his decision?
Chapter 11
Triana sat at a table in the back of the club on Dauphine Street with Kim, both of them trying their best to ignore the skeevy way the guys at the bar were leering at them. It was still early in the afternoon, and probably two or three hours before the normal evening crowd started trickling into the underground speakeasy to drink their fancy cocktails and listen to the blues musicians strum their instruments in the joint’s almost cave-like ambience, but that hadn’t stopped the half-dozen professional drinkers at the bar from starting early—or taking a marked interest in them.
“This guy is showing, right?” Kim asked softly.
Triana glanced at her watch. The man she and Kim were waiting to meet was already ten minutes late. Ten minutes wasn’t that late in this part of town, where it could take that long just to find a parking space, but with the guys at the bar eyeing her and Kim like they were candy in a vending machine, it felt a lot longer.
“He’ll be here,” Triana said firmly.
She had to believe that, if for no other reason than the fact that she’d dragged Kim all the way down here with her in the first place.
“You sound pretty convinced considering you don’t even know the name of the guy we’re supposed to be meeting,” Kim muttered.
Triana couldn’t argue with that since it was true. But Bodine had promised the guy would be there, and she trusted Bodine. Mostly.
