Taking a deep breath, he put down the cutlery and grabbed the phone. “Konrad speaking.”
“Konrad, there’s a light on in Farris’—”
“Yeah, there’s a human female staying there for a few days. Do not approach.” He removed the phone to check the caller ID. Anabelle. How the hell did she know Farris was out of town? They were a small pack, and news traveled fast, but still.
“Human? Why is there a human in Farris’ cabin?”
“She needed a place to stay. She’s a friend of the pack. Don’t go near her.”
“Whatever. I was heading into work and spotted a light through the woods.”
Konrad frowned. “You’re driving past Farris’ to get to work?” She worked at The Howling Moon too, but she lived in town.
“Mind your own business, and I’ll mind mine.”
He chuckled. “All right then.” He liked Anabelle, but she was private and rarely shared details about her life. It was fine. He didn’t need to know everything about his pack members as long as they didn’t cause any trouble.
They said goodbye, and he cut a piece of the meat. The moment he’d put it on his tongue, the phone rang again. Snarling, he swallowed too fast and almost choked.
“Yes, there is a human staying in Farris’ cabin!”
“Eh…okay. My name is Mikael, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”
“What?” Mikael? Konrad went through all the names in his head. They didn’t have a Mikael in the pack.
“Which insurance company are you currently with?”
Konrad closed his eyes and groaned. “This is not a good time. Have a good evening.” He ended the call before Mikael could say anything else and blocked the number. Fucking telemarketers.
* * * *
Dahy walked around in the small cabin. It smelled of wolf mixed with the stench of Myka’s perfume. She hadn’t stayed more than a couple of minutes, but the stench remained. She’d left the bottle with him, so he could spray himself should someone come by.
There were two rooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom on the bottom floor, and then there was an attic bedroom with a sloping ceiling on the second floor. Maybe Farris was a small guy. Dahy wasn’t big by any means, squirrels seldom were, but he didn’t have much room to move around up there. Judging by the interior, all Farris did up there was sleep. There was a low bed, a small bedside table, and a low chest of drawers he assumed held Farris’ clothes when he was home.
The kitchen was small, but there was a table and four chairs, an ordinary stove and an old iron wood-burning one—good if there was a power outage. The living room had a TV, a small couch, and the entire walls were covered with books. It was prejudice speaking, but did wolves read? He scanned the spines—Adolf Hitler: From the Beginning to the End, Monarchs of the Renaissance, The Age of the Vikings. Ugh, who could voluntarily read this crap! If you weren’t depressed already, you sure would be by the end of the book.
The second room was tiny, every room was small, but this could’ve been a walk-in closet, and it was sparsely decorated. There was a futon with a couple of cushions pushed against the wall, a rug on the floor that had seen better days, and an oil painting of a lake with a mountain in the background. He closed the door to the room. He wouldn’t go in there. The living room with the depressing books and the kitchen were enough.
He moved on to the bathroom and stopped dead on the threshold. There was a bathtub, a clawfoot tub. Dahy looked at his dirty clothes while stepping closer. A bath. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a bath that wasn’t in a chilly lake.
He turned the knobs, and water flowed. It took some time before it heated, but once it did, Dahy groaned. A book. He’d have a bath and read a book. Then he sighed. He’d find the least boring one while the tub filled. Hurrying out into the living room, he ran his finger along the spines of The Treasures of Egypt, The World’s Greatest Submarines, and Modern Tanks. For fuck’s sake. This guy was so depressing, Dahy was almost sorry for him.
His gaze fell on a book about Jack the Ripper. Not the most uplifting reading he could think of, but better than tanks and submarines, at least. He plucked the book from the shelf and headed back to the bathroom. Warmth met him at the door, the air misty, and he moaned in anticipation as he put the book on the lip of the tub and undressed. As he dropped the clothes in a pile on the floor, his gaze landed on the washing machine in the corner. Clean clothes.
He’d wash them after his bath. He didn’t want to have to listen to the machine while he read.
Slipping into the warm water, a purr escaped him. This was amazing. Almost worth dying for. And since he was in a wolf’s tub, the dying was likely. Fucking wolves.
Reaching for the book, he removed the book jacket only to stare at the hardcover underneath it. It wasn’t the same image or title, he realized. What the hell? The bookshelf looked well organized. Ah, well, maybe Mr. Wolf was one of those insane people who read more than one book at once and had gotten the jackets mixed up.
He didn’t feel like getting out of the tub now when he was wet to go find another book, so he opened it to the first page and frowned. This was fiction. None of the books he’d seen on the shelves had been fiction. All the better! He slid down a fraction and started reading. Damn, he wished he had nuts.
Chapter 4
Konrad woke in the middle of the night from his phone ringing. With a growl, he reached for it on the nightstand. “Yeah?”
“Sorry to call at this hour, Boss.”
