Wild (9 page)

Good thing no one could see that on the other end of the phone. She dialed the memorized number, and the line rang four times before someone picked up.

“Sal's Pizzeria. Home of the best deep dish in town.”

Not even close. Her aunt Cecily owned that place, but she wasn't calling to argue the claim. “Is Sal there?” she asked the unfamiliar voice who answered. As she held the phone pressed to her ear, she found herself constantly glancing in the direction of the door leading to the hall. It remained shut, which begged the question: Was it locked? Guarded? Or was she exaggerating her situation because of what she thought of Garoux?

This situation was unique. Exactly how did a guest, and still technically an employee of a mob lord, get treated?

And where had Brody gone?

As she waited on the phone, her glance strayed to the left, where the door to the bathroom gaped wide. She'd not checked in there before dialing. Could Brody be in there, perhaps brushing his teeth?

Taking only shallows breaths, she strained for the slightest sound. Nothing. However, not hearing anything didn't mean he'd left the room. Or that eyes didn't watch.

Shit. Secret cameras. Too late to worry about those now, given what had happened the night before, but the possibility that they watched her now, maybe even listened, meant she needed to maintain extreme caution. Until she better understood her situation, she should play it safe.

A scramble of a phone getting handed off yanked her attention back.

“Sal here. Who is this?”

She recognized the gruff voice. “Hey, Sal. It's me, Lulu.”

“Lulu!” The shock in his voice said it all. Nobody knew for certain she was alive yet. “Where the hell are you? The boys have been out looking for your ass in case you weren't in that fire.”

“I'm all right.” Barely, but she didn't expound on that. “A friend of mine came to my rescue at the club and took me to a safe place.”

“Safe where?”

“I can't say.” Not out loud, a precaution in case electronic spies recorded. “I just wanted to let you know I was okay. Mind passing the word around and letting everyone know?” Most especially, her father. Daddy dear wasn't always rational when it came to his daughter. In that respect, he treated her like a princess. He liked coming to her rescue, and then, once he got her home, paced and lectured her, asking how she could have avoided the situation in the first place.

The only way to avoid this situation was to avoid Broderick. What a crappy plan.

“I'd feel better if we saw you were fine for ourselves,” Sal replied.

“You'll have to take my word for it. Tell you what, when I get out of here, we'll get together for some Italian. But not that place with the spicy sausage. I want the mellow one.” Code for: I'm currently guesting with the mob, but I don't think I'm in danger. Or was the clue too subtle for Sal to pick up?

Apparently he did grasp her reference. “Italian? Bah, I'm more in the mood for some Greek.” A less polite way of saying: Do you need us to screw someone?

“We'll figure that out later, Sal. I gotta go. Say hi to the gang for me, and I'll be around soon.” She hung up before Sal could argue and sat for a moment in the chair, wondering about her next move.

Broderick seemed intent on keeping her at Garoux's house. While the mobster might have great security, Lulu was more concerned about him. Brody seemed to imply she had nothing to fear, and yet she'd heard the stories about the guy. Everyone had. The newspapers loved him because he provided fodder like that big case last year.

A gang from out west came to town. And they weren't quiet about it. Robberies went up overnight. Gun violence sparked. People feared walking the streets.

But not for long.

It wasn't long before certain gang members went missing. Rumors swirled about a wild pack of dogs being sent to kill. Attack dogs under Garoux's control, used to scare people into line, a bold claim supported by several supposed witnesses, and yet not a trace of those canines was ever found with any of the search warrants.

The media outlets went wild with the news that wild wolves with big bite radii were on the loose, cleaning up the criminal element. Whatever the real truth was, the deaths stopped after a few months, the gang tucked tail and left town, and the crime waves stopped. Garoux remained the uncontested king of the city.

A man like that might hide behind a veneer of civility, but he wouldn't hesitate to act. But what about Brody? Did he have that same hard core?

A core I also have.
Lulu also knew how to act with ruthless determination. She just stopped short of deadly force to get her point across.

But nothing had worked against the two thugs who'd accosted her in her own office.

How it galled that they'd managed to surprise her. Took her down with barely a fight. It made a girl want to shave her head in shame. Not that she would. The last time she did that, when she was nine, her mother had the salon weave pink braids to cover the bald streak.

Back to the thugs though. Their attack made no sense. She took a moment to remember what had happened, to try and see if she'd missed a motive.

As far as she could recollect, they'd made no actual demands. A usual robbery would have gone after cash, or her purse. Perverts would have restrained her for rape. But these guys seemed more intent on destruction, and focused it on her office. And they made sure she was in it.

What were they after? Did they truly seek to kill her like Brody claimed, or was it simply a matter of her being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Now that I've seen their faces, am I truly in deadly danger?

The answer to that would allow her to know if she could safely leave or not.

Speaking of leaving, I wonder if that door is locked or not.

In her sarong-sheet dress, she minced to the door and turned the handle. It opened, so well oiled there wasn't even a hint of a squeak as she swung it open.

She poked her head out and noted the sun-dappled hallway lined with closed doors. Not a soul stirred, but she still ducked back in.

Shutting the door, she leaned against it and debated her next move. Not a prisoner. Knowing she could leave took a load off her mind. It also made her itch to leave the room and find out what the heck was going on.

Aren't you forgetting something?
She peered down.
Oh yeah, my awesome dress.
She couldn't wander around in a sheet. That was too weird even by her standards. Maybe there was a robe in the bathroom, or she'd find her clothes.

She poked her head in the bathroom. Nothing to see except towels. Fresh ones. The wet ones they'd used and dropped on the floor in their hurry to make it to bed were gone, probably in the laundry chute she found when she yanked on a handle in the wall.

Cool. She didn't know anyone with one of those. What a bummer it was too small to fit her. Not only might it have provided a discreet escape route—with possible clean clothing at the end—but it might also have proven fun. At least it always looked awesome in the movies.
Whee.

Funny part was she could practically picture Brody teasing her to try it.

Wandering back into the room, she eyed the sliding door to the closet. As a guest room, it probably wouldn't have anything. But it didn't hurt to check.

Aha!

Sliding it open she came across shirts hung neatly, pants folded on the creases and suspended, with matching jackets: a full-on suit for the nerd-on-the-go. Lucky for her, though, the closet wasn't just packed with business attire for a man. The shelves at the side contained more comfortable gear, soft cotton T-shirts and track pants, both of which proved too big when pulled on.

Cinching the waist tight only served to bunch the fabric oddly about her waist, but then again, the rolled cuffs on the legs wouldn't help her win any fashion competitions.

The T-shirt fit a bit better, still large but the cotton material had room for her breasts. Now if only her nipples would stop reacting to every slight sensation. Brody had enjoyed himself a lot with them. The soft cottony rub had them peaking to attention.

So it was with nip-ons, straggly bed head, and lumpy pants that she met the perfectly attired Broderick, who took one look at her and laughed.

 

CHAPTER 11

So perhaps it was not the brightest thing to laugh at a woman he'd spent the night worshipping.

But seriously, when he opened the door, the last thing he expected to see was her, dressed in ill-fitting clothes, striking a battle stance with her hair standing out in every direction in a wild halo of red.

She looked adorable, which, in turn, made him happy. Until he recalled the phone call she'd just made. Guilt twinged him a little for spying. However, it wasn't targeted specifically at her but part of the entire house's security measures.

So, yes, he'd listened at his boss's behest. While appearing innocuous on the surface, he didn't need to see Fabian's tight lips to know the entire conversation was a sham. Lulu hid something, and he'd been tasked with finding out what.

“Where have you been?” she asked, her gaze focused on the tray. His cat meowed with indignation. Nice to know the food he carried caught her attention more than him.

He truly was a besotted idiot. Now if only he could say the same of her. While he had fate making it easy for him to succumb to his feelings, she was human. She'd need seduction the old-fashioned way. While sex and conversation provided a good start, keeping her happy ranked as the most important.

“I wrangled us some food. Hungry?” He waggled the offering and felt a bit like a pied piper as she followed him to the table flanked by club chairs. Setting it down, he tried to think of a way to broach her phone call without letting on that he knew about it.

“So when are you going to ask me who Sal is?” she asked as she finished chewing on a piece of toast.

He spewed out his mouthful of orange juice, thankfully not on her. The drapes, however, behind the table didn't fare so well.

“What do you mean? Who's Sal?”

“Oh, come on. You've been fidgeting like a cat on a hot tin roof since you came in here with the food. It's obvious you're uncomfortable about something. You know I made a call.”

“Are you accusing me of spying on you?” Did he look as guilty as he sounded? Suave amongst predators, but in front of her, he was a clumsy kitten.

“No, I don't think you set out to spy on me, but your boss would, and I'm going to wager you both heard my phone call and he asked you to find out who Sal is.”

Was there any point in hiding the truth? “Just so you know, bugging the phones is standard with all of his homes and businesses. Fabian is a tad paranoid about his security.”

“And nosey.”

“Yeah, he's nosey all right.” And more accurate than a bloodhound. “I gotta admit, though, he's got a point being suspicious. I mean, you didn't exactly call a family member or something to let them know you were alive. You called a pizza place at ten in the morning.”

She took another bite of toast and chewed slowly before answering. “It's complicated. And I wish I could tell you more, but—”

The wail of sirens had her eyes widening.

He knew that sound. “What the hell are the cops doing here?” Brody leaned over to peek out the window and watched a trail of cop cars, and even a SWAT team truck, come screaming up the long driveway. But he didn't clue in on the truth until she said, “I told them I was okay. They weren't supposed to come here.”

He whipped around to face her. “What do you mean you told them? You called the cops? Why? I told you that you weren't a prisoner. The damned door was unlocked.”

“I know. Like I said, they weren't supposed to come. I just had to let them know I was okay.”

“When the hell did you call them?” Then it hit him. “Sal. The pizzeria. It's a front, isn't it?” She couldn't meet his gaze, and the rest of the truth hit him harder than the time he fell out of a tree and hit the driveway. “Oh my freaking god, you're a cop, aren't you?”

He waited for a reply, wondering what it would be. However, it turned out Lulu didn't need to say a word. It was written all over her slumped body and the first time Brody had ever seen her so defeated and by the most unexpected weapon of all, the truth.

It blew him away. “I can't believe I didn't know. Shit, Fabian is going to kill me. I brought a cop into his house. How could you hide this from me?” Yeah, he might have sounded a little betrayed there.

“I was undercover. I couldn't tell you.”

“Oh, this is bad. I'm involved with a cop.” This time he said it with more of a bewildered air. Talk about unexpected.

She took offense at his words. “This wouldn't be a problem if you weren't associated with a mobster,” she snapped, her momentary docility at getting ousted vanishing beneath outrage. She'd found her inner fighter.

Good. He didn't like to see her cowed.

He'd also like to keep seeing her alive, which, given police were outside and the doorbell was ringing, would probably put Fabian in a foul mood.

“Fabian isn't a mobster or a criminal.”
He's a werewolf.
He kept those words to himself. Would she think that Fabian's being a Lycan was better or worse?

Forget asking her right now. Until he knew where she stood, he couldn't tell her any more. To reveal life-changing secrets at this point, as she was about to get reunited with her brothers in blue, didn't seem prudent. The last thing he and other shape-shifters needed was her spilling about their existence until she understood the importance of keeping their secret.

“Even if he's not a hardcore criminal, he's not exactly pristine.”

“Name someone who is.” She opened her mouth, but he didn't let her speak. “And don't tell me you are.”