A Wolf After My Own Heart by MaryJanice Davidson (free romance novels TXT) 📗

him to the site of the fire, and every time he moved quickly, the coat flared. Lila couldn’t decide if the man was naturally theatrical or playing a part or was some kind of superhero (or villain).

“Are you kidding me with this ridiculous bullshit?” he roared.

Naturally theatrical. Most likely. Can’t rule out super villain.

Oz had brought Berne into Lila’s house, where the man curtly introduced himself, listened to Oz and Garsea’s explanation, then turned without a word and marched over to Macropi’s still-smoking house. All the rest of them could do was look at each other, shrug, and follow. And in Oz’s case, frantically change back into yesterday’s clothes, then follow.

* * *

“What?” he snapped as someone whacked the bathroom door. It wasn’t a knock; it sounded more like someone irritably slapped at it. Oh, God, I hope I didn’t just snap at Lila.

Someone slid a piece of paper underneath the door. Oz had no trouble reading it, despite the fact that he was standing; the letters were as long as his fingers.

WTF, Oz?????

Oh.

That.

Good timing, at least; he’d finished buttoning his shirt. He opened the door and surprised Caro in mid-scribble. “Yeah, about last night. Sorry. Put it down to stress. Or low blood sugar. Or how I wasn’t actually growling at you, it was Dev. Or how it was a garbage truck, not you. A midnight garbage truck.”

You shifted and looked like you were ready to throw down!!!

So did you, he wanted to say, but it would have been a lie. Last night, Caro had been cautious with good reason—her foster mother’s house was on fire and there was a strange Stable in the yard in close proximity to her foster brother. But aside from the time she ripped a child-trafficker’s arm from the socket, she’d never attacked anyone, Shifter or otherwise.

“I overreacted,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”

I get that. WHY, tho?

“I can’t explain it.” He could feel the hairs on his nape trying to come to attention simply because they were talking about last night. “I just—I saw you sizing up Lila and I didn’t like it.”

WHY, tho?

Good question. And she deserved an answer. Too bad he had no idea what it was.

“Sorry again, Caro.”

She just looked at him, then shrugged and walked away while he finished tying his tie.

* * *

“Mr. Berne, I can assure you, we’ll have everything under control.”

Berne’s rebuttal: “Ridiculous bullshit!”

“Well, I did use the future tense,” Garsea admitted. “I never intimated everything was under control right this second.”

And didn’t Berne mean bear? Lila made a mental note to look it up later, because if his surname did mean bear, she could only assume these guys weren’t even trying. It wasn’t the first time she wondered if her life’s triumphs weren’t due to the fact that she was exceptionally smart but because the people around her were exceptionally stupid. (This theory did not go over well with her eleventh-grade guidance counselor.)

“And why is there a noncommissioned ambulance in the driveway?”

“Because I don’t like parking on the street.”

She was on board with tagging along wherever this leg of the journey led, right up until the moment Berne walked into the burned house, which was when she stopped short so suddenly Oz ran into her, apologized, then walked around her. Then he stopped short (again) and looked back. “Oh. Uh. Lila? You coming in?”

“I’m good,” she replied, and her voice wasn’t thin and high at all, but Oz immediately walked back to her side anyway. Which she didn’t need him to do. And didn’t care that he did.

“That’s okay,” he said, which was unnecessary. “I don’t need to go in, either.”

“Go in if you want to go in. I just don’t need to go in right this second. But you go. I mean, just because I don’t want to go in doesn’t mean you need to stay out here. You could go in.” Was she saying ‘go in’ too much? “Go in if you want to go in.” Definitely not.

“Naw.” Then he looked at her, really looked. She felt like she’d stumbled under a microscope and simultaneously loved and hated the sensation. It was nice, being the object of Oz’s intense focus. Just…not right this second. “What did you lose?”

None of your business. It’s not important. Her brain ran through the litany: It was a long time ago. I didn’t even like that house. What are you even talking about? “Everything.”

“I’m so sorry.” He reached and took her hand in his. “That must have been a nightmare.”

“I didn’t even like that house,” she replied on auto-pilot. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“I can’t think of a single thing you need to apologize for. So. Magnus Berne,” he said, and she was so grateful he’d changed the subject she almost kissed him. She might kiss him anyway. No, no… “D’you think his friends call him Maggie?”

That had been her first thought when the man introduced himself: Sally’s father (if that’s who had been on the phone) had specifically warned her: watch out for Maggie. “And you’ve gotta admit, that’s an interesting coincidence.”

“Yep.”

“And if you and I thought of it—”

“Yeah, Annette’s in there politely giving him the third degree. Bet on it.”

“If he’s willing, you could bring him back to my house. If he’s been traveling—do we know how he got here? Or where he came from?—he might want a break. It’s still early, but he’s bright-eyed and neatly dressed, so I’m thinking he pulled an all-nighter on the way here. So he might want a drink or what-have-you. He might say something he wouldn’t, normally. Or he’ll totally clear himself.”

“And Sally should see him,” Oz added. “She might know if he’s the real deal. And if he’s the Maggie she was warned about.”

“I’m aware this is the question of the week, but where is Sally?”

“Still watching Simpsons. I caught Dev skulking outside on my way here, so I told him to get his sneaky butt in the house and keep an eye on her until we got back, on pain