That was true, but it was also easier said than done. “Okay, I’ll work on it.”
“Or don’t. You’re pretty perfect as you are.”
She swatted his arm. “Michael Kane, you’re going to give me a big head.”
“If that was possible, I’d work on it.”
“What are we looking for in here?” The sooner she got out of the building the better.
Joe had received real pack justice here. She’d seen it before and coming back on the scene gave her the creeps. It was too soon since his death. Maybe she had an overactive imagination, but she always felt as if places that had seen violence held onto for it a while.
“His computer.”
“You’re going to hack into his computer?”
He coughed and let go of her hand as they approached the back office with Joe’s desk. “It’s stale in here, isn’t it? If I could, I’d open a window. Anyway, no, I don’t know how to do that.” Looking back at her, he had a crooked smile. “Weren’t you the one who pointed out I must have a decrepit brain at my advanced age?”
“Okay, you’ve got memory loss and I’m obsessive compulsive about the car. We make a great team.”
“We do.”
“So what are you going to do with the computer?”
“Pick it up and bring it back to Westervelt in the back of the car so my friend, Malcolm, who is a security expert, can break in and tell me what it says about how the witches know our business.”
That made sense. As Michael unplugged and then grabbed the computer like it weighed nothing and walked toward the front door, she picked up some of the notebooks strewn around just in case they proved to be important later.
Following Michael out the door, she turned around to shut it behind them .It was broken now and for some reason she still felt the need to close it like it could seal. She couldn’t help but feel that this was more than just a moment of leaving the store. No, it was the last time she’d see this place.
A slight drizzle of rain had started while they were in the store. It was typical New Orleans for the summer. If you didn’t like the weather, wait a minute. She raised her head to the sky, letting the light drips hit her on the face.
I want to go home. Her wolf whimpered.
We’re not going back there anymore. This is goodbye. Doesn’t it feel that way?
This was never home. This was why I didn’t come. We need to go home.
Somehow this didn’t surprise her. She walked toward Michael. Where is home?
Get in the car with Michael; he’ll take us there.
That was settled. Her wolf had wanted to be there in the first place.
Michael leaned against the car still holding the computer. “Pop the trunk for me?”
She pushed the button on the remote and the trunk opened. That was so fun.
He placed the computer into the compartment and she pressed the button again to close it.
Walking toward her, he stopped and leaned on the car. “Ready to go?”
“More than.”
And that was the truth.
* * * *
They pulled up to Cole’s house. She turned off the car and got out, locking it behind her. Just once this time, even though she thought a few times about hitting the button again. If it was silent she might do it, but Michael would hear the telltale chirp the car made when she pushed the button and know she was giving into her mania about the car again.
She was going to make her obsession her own private little thing. She’d never had anything like it before; if she wanted to, she could privately worry over its care.
They walked together toward the house. Michael turned to look at her. “How many do you think realistically are coming with us? I can’t imagine it’s more than ten. Who would want to put themselves through Westervelt hell if they didn’t have to?”
She would. But she didn’t say that aloud to him. Michael wasn’t taking his own advice. He ignored his sense of smell and his hearing. He was nervous, she could tell from the way his shoulders were rigid and the sound of his jaw clenching.
If he’d done what he told her to do, if he didn’t ignore his wolf, he’d know exactly how many people waited in the house to come to Maine.
Every single one of them.
Just before they opened the door, the scent must have become too much for Michael to pretend he couldn’t tell the number.
When Michael moved to look at her, she couldn’t help beaming at him. He had no idea what he’d done to her pack. They needed him, not like she did, in an entirely different way.
He might be bringing them to Tristan for the other man to lead, but it was Michael they counted on right now.
That was what he was at his core: absolutely dependable and just the person you wanted with you in a crisis. He was hers. He was magnificent.
Even if he didn’t know it.
When he spoke to her, it was with a gruff voice and she realized instantly how much emotion he hid from the world. She could feel it, as if it were her own.
“This is going to be a logistical nightmare. How am I going to transport them all across country?”
“I’ll take care of everything.”
This type of endeavor, she was good at.
Chapter Eleven
Michael was more grateful to Scarlett than he could express. She really handled everything. He wondered if she knew how remarkable it was that she’d done that. Even as she’d stared downward and stubbornly looked no one in the eye except him, she’d managed to take a head count—the number forty-five still blew his mind—figured out who had cars, how many people could fit in each and sent a group to the grocery store to purchase enough food to feed everyone for two days. If they all slept in shifts, stopped minimally and ate in the car they could be at the dock waiting for the Westervelt boat in just over twenty-nine hours.
So far the plan had gone without a hitch. He was supposed to be sleeping. It was Marvin’s turn to drive Scarlett’s car. After she’d obsessed about letting him drive, which had gone on constantly somewhere between Chattanooga until they’d approached West Virginia when she’d finally conked out.
He opened his eyes, figuring Marvin and the two other wolves—Chester and Liam—
knew he was awake anyway. It had been so much easier to fly down.
“I still haven’t told Tristan we’re coming.” He needed to, considering they were about fifteen hours away.
“You could do what I do when I want to get out of having an actual conversation.”
Marvin glanced in his direction before turning his eyes back to the road.
“What’s that?”
“Send him a text message and then turn off the phone.”
Actually, that would be kind of funny. He wouldn’t do it to Tristan, though. No, that brother had too much on his plate being Alpha. Theo, however … the idea had possibility. Smiling at the thought, even as he knew he wouldn’t do it, he pulled Scarlett’s cell phone out of her purse. His was long gone, having been lost in one of the shifts during the fights that had gone down in New Orleans. That was the problem with the shifting process. Your clothes were magically destroyed and anything in the pockets went poof right along with them.
He dialed Tristan’s number. It rang three times and his brother answered. Even over the phone he could tell he was tired.
“My Alpha.”
It was the formal way to address his younger brother. Respectful and certainly something Tristan had earned.
“My brother. What number is this? I almost didn’t pick up.”
Michael laughed. “Sorry, Trip, have you been getting a lot of telemarketers?”
“Well, no. However, generally I know the numbers that come up. Ashlee programmed this thing for me. It normally says ‘Michael’ if you’re calling.”