He hung up. I begrudgingly texted him the address and flopped down on the sofa. My anxiety hadn’t abated. If anything, I was evenmoreworked up and twitchy. Turning my attention back to my computer helped a bit, but my mind kept going back to that call from Rick.
The clock in the lower right hand of my computer said it was nearly 11:30. A question had occurred to me, and I needed an expert’s answer. Looking into the Masters family holdings, I continued to think of the things Mitch had told us about his cousin. It made me wonder exactly what kind of effects meth might have on animals versus humans.
Grabbing my phone, I shot a text to Lesley.
Me:Hey, random question, have there ever been any studies done on the effects of crystal methamphetamine on animals?
Lesley:You ask the weirdest shit, you know that? What does this have to do with anything?
Sighing, I tapped out a response that I hoped wouldn’t cause her to question me too deeply.
Me:It’s for a story I’m working on.
Lesley:Sounds like a weird story. You sure have a lot of meth questions lately. Anyway, the only studies I can think of were done on lab rats.
Rats? Not quite a magical shifter wolf/human hybrid, but at this point, I’d take any info I could get.
Me:What did it do to the rats?
Lesley:Altered cognitive ability, poor impulse control, restlessness, issues with sleeping, and an increase in violent behavior after prolonged use.
That all sounded like a really great way to push a person to become fully feral. Cutting them off from their pack, coupled with the drugs, would probably make going feral happen even faster than it would naturally. At least from the descriptions Nate had given me about how ferality worked in shifters.
Me:That doesn’t sound pleasant.
Lesley:Yeah. Pro tip, don’t do fucking meth!!! Anyway, how are you doing?
I glanced around at my hotel, wondering what to tell her.
Me:Good. Just hanging out a bit.
The three little dots flashed for a long time. Lesley was writing out some novel of a text message, but when it came through, it was short. That spoke volumes, meaning she’d probably written and erased multiple things before coming to a conclusion on how to say it.
Lesley:You’re supposed to give me details on biker boy. Remember? I’m not going to ask about anything sexual. That needs to happen in person lol.
For a few seconds, I thought about how to respond, and then decided to be honest with her. Or at least as honest as I could be.
Me:It’s been hit-and-miss. Sometimes good, other times REALLY good. There’s something about him I can’t put my finger on. It’s like he’s what I’ve been looking for my whole life. Though, I’m still not totally sold that either of us is ready for more.
Lesley:Cam, that’s the most you’ve ever said about a guy to me. Even that stuck-up asshole Rick. Hell, you were likea half-step from marrying that guy and everything was very blah with him. My suggestion? Who gives a fuck? Go for it.
“Huh,” I grunted as I looked at her message.
The fight Nate and I had was still fresh on my mind, but with everything that had happened since, it had become less important. Strangely enough, that was probably an unhealthy way to go about healing, but there wassomethingbetween us that pushed all the problems aside when we were together. We’d have to talk about it someday, but at the moment, Lesley’s words dug deep into me. Life was short. Maybe it would be easier to go for it and see what happened. Though, that was coming dangerously close to the way my mother approached love.
Before I could think of a response, Lesley sent another text.
Lesley:Look, chica, I have to be up early. I’m heading to bed. Love you. Talk to you soon?
What I really wanted was to keep talking to her, to give my mind something else to dwell on other than Rick. But I wasn’t a shitty friend. Lesley had a job, and I wasn’t going to force her to stay awake.
Me:Love you too. Talk soon. Bye.
I stared at my computer, wondering what I could do until Nate returned. He hadn’t given me a timeframe. For all I knew, he could be out there until dawn. Part of the increase in my paranoia was the heightened senses I wasn’t quite used to yet. How did Nate and the others deal with it? Sniffing the air, I caught the faint whiff of perfume, and somehow, my brain and inner wolfknewit was from down the hall. Sounds were clearer, too. Outside, each closing door sounded like it was right beside me. Everything was so muchmorethat it was hard to relax. At times, the external stimuli faded into the background, but when I was stressed, it became more pronounced. Hopefully, I’d be able to control how it affected me when I grew used to it.
Doing my best to keep my mind off it, I dived back into research. I could at least say I’d gotten some work done. That, if nothing else, would make me feel better.
Twenty minutes into looking up crime rates and statistics from the year Lincoln Masters joined the Toronto pack, there was a knock on the door. I flinched, jerking my head to stare at the door. An instant later, my phone buzzed, drawing a startled yelp from my mouth. Keeping my eyes on the door, I checked my phone.
