They didn’t say much more after that, but they stayed on the phone, together in their silence, for another hour. When at last they hung up, April promised to call again in a day or two. Then she stayed in Malachi’s big chair and slept, so tired after putting the last few months into words, and so thankful to be heard and seen by Mom. To be believed and loved. The only thing missing was a hug.
Twenty-Four
Malachi’sfirstworkdayafter the attack was spent delivering orders to customers in town. Several of his regulars had run low on venison, and a new customer had purchased an unusually large amount of pheasant and quail. He set out early in the morning, his eyes concealed behind blue contacts and his truck bed packed with industrial-sized coolers full of meat.
His new customer had paid online, as many did. Others preferred to pay him cash.“No point in giving Uncle Sam any of this,”a man had said to him years ago, winking.
“My business is entirely legal, including the taxes.”He’d said it on reflex, hadn’t intended to sound challenging, but the guy hadn’t bought from him again.
Though none of the humans he sold to could hold a long conversation with him, a few treated him with genuine friendliness as he helped them load the meat from his cooler to their freezer. One of these was John Youngblood, owner and operator of the gas station just outside town. He happened to live three houses down from Willow’s parents, and Malachi hadn’t delivered to him since early last winter, before Ezra and Willow had begun dating.
“It’s Malachi the Venison Guy!” John sprang down from the porch with excellent agility for a human his age. “Hey there, young man. Long time, no see.”
“Long time, no order.” Malachi smiled but didn’t show his teeth.
“That’s a fact. Well, come on around to the walk-out. You know where the freezer is.”
No need for pretense with John. Malachi hefted the full cooler with ease and headed to the back of the house.
“Gotta flex those lupine muscles, huh?” John said with a chuckle.
Malachi stepped into the intense air conditioning of John’s lower level and set the cooler beside the freezer. “If you hadn’t guessed correctly two years ago, I’d feign a little more effort.”
John burst out with a belly laugh. “Atta boy. Keep the rest of the town guessing.”
Together they began stocking the freezer. When they finished, John handed him a worn wad of cash he didn’t bother to count. The man hadn’t shorted him a dollar yet.
He followed Malachi back to the truck and halfway there stopped to snap his fingers. “Say, you haven’t had any gawkers out there lately, have you?”
The tone was offhand, but Malachi’s wolf instincts perked up. “Gawkers?”
“Yeah, there was this young lady who drove through…oh, I’d have to say a month ago now, or close to it. She stopped for gas and asked for directions to the highway, but then out of the blue she asked was there a wolf pack here, said she’d heard of y’all? Didn’t say where though.”
“Did she have red hair?”
“You know, I couldn’t say. She had a ball cap that hid her hair. Was a freckly one, though—when she handed me her card, freckles even on the back of her hand. I remember because I thought of my granddaughter, and she’s a redhead. So she was a gawker, sure enough? Did y’all have to run her off?”
Malachi’s pulse notched up. He took a full second (but no more) to tighten the leash on the wolf inside him, which had begun to snarl at this human male speaking so casually of April—of her attire, her hair, her freckles. His tone was measured, calm despite the wolf’s straining as he said, “She did come to the Lane, but she was no threat.”
“Did she stick around, like that one Fitzgerald girl?”
Willow Sterling was a married twenty-three-year-old woman, but John had known her for years as a neighbor kid. To him she would forever be one of the Fitzgerald girls. Malachi took another moment to weigh his mate’s safety, but the true threat to April already knew her location. He nodded as he and John resumed walking to the truck.
“Well, I guess it’s all right then. I felt kind of bad after she left because I name-dropped Lunar Lane. Then I thought, ‘you old dummy, you never go blurting things like that to out-of-towners, what got into you?’”
Malachi controlled his expression as gratitude washed through him. If John hadn’t blurted that name to April, would she have found the pack? Found him? “I appreciate that you told me about her, in case I hadn’t known.”
“Why, sure. If I notice anybody else, want me to let you know?”
“Yes, please.” He got into the truck and spoke out the lowered window. “Good to see you, John.”
“You too, Malachi.”
John was his last delivery of the day, so Malachi headed home. His scars ached badly today, despite the comfort of sleeping in bed last night. Lifting the last cooler on his own hadn’t helped, though he’d been strong enough to handle it easily. And the wolf inside would not stop snarling.
Enough,Malachi ordered.
But the more tightly he held his restraint, the harder the wolf fought him. By the time he reached home, he was sweating. He remained in the truck a moment, eyes closed, focusing inward.
