Only a couple of people were in line, getting late-morning coffees, and when he finally made it to the register, Wade used his fingers to tick off his order. “I want a large coffee Coolatta, extra whip, a dozen donuts, two dozen donut holes, and all of your hash browns.”
The employee blinked at him over the register, finger hovering over the screen to enter in his order. “Uh,allof the hash browns?”
Wade checked the time on his cell phone, calculated how long it would take him to get the food and then get to the hotel to check in before having to meet Ella at noon, and then sighed. “Okay, however many hash browns you can fry in the next ten minutes.”
He knew from previous experience that if he asked for the bags of unfrozen hash browns to fry himself, they’d say no. Corporate entities were so stingy.
The employee gave him a long, disbelieving look before rapidly tapping in his order and telling him the cost. “What donut flavors?” the employee asked as Wade paid with his credit card.
“Surprise me. I like them all.”
The donuts came first, and he sat with his boxes and bags of doughy goodness, cramming one after the other into his mouth while he waited for his hash browns. He’d eaten his way through nine donuts by the time his hash browns were handed over in a plastic bag. Wade mumbled his thanks around the donut holeshe was chewing and left with his haul of food. He organized everything within easy reach on the front passenger seat, happy now that he had something to snack on.
Driving into Boston proper reminded Wade why he hated driving in cities and much preferred the subway or someone else behind the steering wheel. By the time he pulled into the valet strip in front of the Ritz-Carlton’s entrance on Avery Street, he’d yelled at a dozen drivers and honked out a symphony. Sighing, Wade put the car in park and gathered up his backpack and the now-empty donut box. It was barely a thirty-second walk from Boston Common, and he could smell a lot of grass when he got out of the car. It made his nose twitch.
“Checking in?” the valet asked when Wade tossed him the keys after unlocking the trunk.
“Yup. I’ll be back out for the car in about twenty minutes.”
“Of course. We’ll bring it around when you need it.”
Wade hauled his luggage out of the trunk and wheeled it toward the hotel entrance, the doorman having already opened the door for him. He waved off a staff member who offered to take his luggage and only got halfway through the lobby before an older man whose hair was trending silver at his temples peeled away from where he was loitering near the front desk and came over to greet him.
“Mr. Espinoza, I’m Harry Adams, general manager of the hotel. I wanted to extend a warm welcome to you and let you know that if you should need anything, we’re here to provide it,” the man said smoothly as he gamely took the empty donut box before offering his hand in greeting.
Wade, having spent years around the kind of wealth most people could never even fathom, followed through with the handshake and an easy smile. He figured he had to be in the system, with Sage providing his information, for them to know him on sight. “Thanks. I’ll be wandering around Boston for themost part and don’t know when I’ll be leaving. I hope that won’t be a problem.”
“Not at all,” Harry demurred. “The presidential suite is yours for as long as you need it.”
“Great. Mind showing me to it?”
Wade wasn’t one to stand on ceremony, and the clock was ticking for him to get to his meeting with Ella. Harry and his assistant showed him to a private elevator, handing over a discreet black key card that Wade shoved into his wallet.
“That key card accesses the elevator and your suite. If you lose it, please let us know, and we’ll promptly issue you a new one,” Harry said on the elevator ride up.
Wade nodded, only half listening as Harry droned on about what the hotel offered. All he really cared about was if they’d have a decent selection of snacks.
The elevator slowed to a stop seconds later, and the doors opened on a small foyer. Harry crossed it and used his own card to open the door to the presidential suite before handing it to the woman who’d accompanied them. “Stephanie will be your dedicated concierge while you are here. Anything you need, she will ensure it is provided. All her information and what we can provide will be in the contact book on the desk.”
The space was huge, easily bigger than the average New York City apartment. Windows overlooked the city and Boston Common, a fireplace was integrated into one of the walls of the living room, and Wade could see the spacious bedroom down the hall. The penthouse had a sparkling kitchen and a dining room with a table that could easily fit the core of his pack. The space smelled like cleaning chemicals and nothing else. He wondered if that was standard practice for whenever Sage traveled.
“Thanks,” Wade said. “I need to head out for a meeting.”
Harry and Stephanie were quick to say their goodbyes, leaving Wade to get settled. He wheeled his luggage into the bedroom and chucked it in the closet before dumping his backpack on the bed. He had his keys, wallet, and phone in his pockets, sunglasses perched on his head, and fifteen minutes to get to Faneuil Hall for his meeting with Ella.
Wade had a feeling he was going to be late.
Hurrying out of the suite, Wade took the elevator back down to the lobby. He had to wait a couple of minutes for the valet to bring his car around and then drove where his GPS told him to. The beginning of June felt like the start of the summer tourist season now that Memorial Day weekend was behind them. Lots of people were out on the sidewalks on the late Wednesday morning, all of them dressed for the sunny day. Despite the pedestrian crowd, the parking garage on State Street wasn’t completely full.
Wade parked, locked the car behind him, and jogged for the exit, clattering down the stairs rather than using the rickety-looking elevator. He bounded onto the sidewalk and hurried toward where everyone else in the vicinity was heading: Faneuil Hall.
It smelled like chocolate outside, which was just unfair. The cobblestone square he ended up in was dominated by the redbrick and white-trimmed building of Faneuil Hall. People drifted in and out of its door for the visitor center, but Wade wasn’t interested in history or a tour. He had his sights set on the statue of Samuel Adams near the center of the square. That was the spot where Ella had told him to meet her. Sage had done a deep-dive search on her, so Wade knew what the dire looked like.
Ella leaned against the base of the statue, eyes glued to her cell phone. She wore white jean shorts, a pink crop top, pink sandals, and rose-tinted sunglasses. Her blond hair was styledin waves and fell loose nearly to her elbows. The designer purse slung over one shoulder was all white leather except for the gold chain. She looked young for the pack rank she held, but Wade knew better than to dismiss her outright. One didn’t become dire of a god pack without being able to handle themselves and the threats directed toward their alphas with lethal intent.
“Ella?” Wade called out.
Her head snapped up, revealing perfectly applied makeup that wasn’t melting off from the heat. When she spoke, Wade was surprised to hear a thick Southern accent fall from her lips, as if she’d walked right off a plane from Atlanta, Georgia. “Who’s asking?”
