2. Ellis

2

ELLIS

I turned my radio off, feeling like I needed silence while I traveled the narrow road toward the address Waylen had gotten from his mate Lyra’s grandmother, Alma. These woods weren’t familiar to me or my bobcat, and that put us both slightly on edge.

The storm rolling in didn’t help.

Of course, just when I finally felt like we’d kept a low profile long enough to be sure Xander wasn’t following us—and wouldn’t figure out we were planning to seek help from Maribel, an eccentric raccoon shifter and shaman who could pull the spirit of Lucius from his body—the storm of the century rolls in.

While I’d tried not to think about what my crew would do if the old woman refused to help us, it was hard not to, especially now that I was headed to her place. If she said no, we’d be back to square one. I doubted Astrid, Xander’s sister, wanted our only other option to end this nightmare with Lucius’s spirit to be killing Xander, even if he was Lucius’s vessel.

The road curved again, and when I rounded the bend, I spotted a car pulled off to the side. My bobcat perked up as my headlights landed on a woman crouched near the rear tire, fumbling with a jack.

Fat raindrops hit my windshield as I eased off the gas, slowing down as I got closer. The woman stood, dusting her hands on her jeans and shifted her attention to something in the backseat of the car, before returning her stare to me.

Was someone inside the car?

I pulled in behind her car and parked, but I didn’t cut the engine on my truck. Mainly because I assumed since she had a jack and a tire iron that she also had a spare, which meant this wouldn’t take long.

As I climbed out of my truck, our eyes met, and I noticed how striking she was. Besides her beauty, the woman’s gaze held strength, along with a hint of vulnerability, which made me want to help her even more.

My bobcat stirred.

He sensed her nervousness, but also how relieved she was to see us. For whatever reason, he liked knowing that our presence alleviated some of her unease.

“Hey there. Looks like you could use some help,” I called out.

“Yeah, I’ve got a flat, and to be honest, I’m not sure what I’m doing,” she said.

“Mommy, you’re not supposed to talk to strangers,” a little girl said from in the backseat.

The woman pursed her lips, then shot the little girl a look that seemed to say, You’re right, but these are extreme circumstances .

My gaze dipped to the jack and then back to her. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Please,” she said, taking a step back.

I crouched down to get a better look. My gaze skimmed along the tire, searching for a puncture hole or anything protruding. When I found the culprit, I glanced up at her. She’d been watching, sizing me up. I couldn’t blame her. I was a stranger. We were in the middle of nowhere, at night when a storm was rolling in, and she had a child with her.

“It was an old nail,” I said, pointing to it protruding from her tire.

“Wonderful.” She sighed.

“Do you have a spare in your trunk?”

“Yeah.” She moved to the back of the car, and I followed. “Can you get to it, or should I pull the groceries out?”

“Let’s set them aside just to be safe. I wouldn’t want to break any eggs you might have bought or smush any bread.”

A tiny quirk of a grin twisted the corner of her lips, and my bobcat took notice of it more than I did. “Actually, I bought both.”

“Did you get milk, though? Because you can’t make it through any type of natural disaster without all three,” I joked without thinking, and then hoped she had a sense of humor and didn’t think I was razzing her too hard.

When she chuckled, I knew I was good.

After helping her set the groceries aside, I lifted the spare out of the trunk. It was a tiny donut, but it would get her where she was going.

“How much longer?” the little girl called from the backseat. “I’m hungry.”

“Do you want some apple chips?” the woman asked, digging through the grocery bags until she found them.

“Yes!” the little girl shouted.

I grinned at her excitement.

“Sorry about that. Three-year-olds have no patience,” the woman muttered.

I grinned, meeting her stare. “I’d be surprised if she did.”

My bobcat made himself known again, but I ignored him and shifted my attention to the jack. I repositioned it so that it had a more stable base and then lifted the back of the car so I could get to the tire.

Once I’d managed that, I made use of the tire iron she’d already set out. A gust of wind whipped around us while I worked on removing the flat, and more fat raindrops fell. Once I had it off, I quickly secured her donut.

“Hopefully this storm isn’t as bad as everyone is thinking,” the woman said.

“I know.” I twisted the last lug nut on. “I’m not nearly as prepared as you.”

“You mean you didn’t get the necessities?” she shot back.

I stood to my full height, my gaze meeting hers again. “Nope. No milk, eggs, or bread.”

“Hot chocolate. Do you have that?” the little girl asked, eyeing me from the backseat while she munched on apple chips.

A grin twisted my lips. “Nope, no hot chocolate either.”

“That’s her favorite,” the woman said, drawing my attention back to her. “Hot chocolate with extra marshmallows.”

“Sounds good.”

“It is!” the little girl shouted. “Mommy, can I have some when we get home?”

“Maybe after dinner.”

The little girl shifted to look at me again. “We’re having grilled cheese for dinner. Do you like grilled cheese?”

“I do, but it has to have two slices of cheese so it’s gooey,” I said.

A loud crack of thunder clapped in the distance, startling us all.

“On that note, I think we’re going to head out,” the woman said. “Thank you for your help.”

“Not a problem. Here, let me help load everything back into your trunk.” I moved to pick up the flat. “If you take this to Dark Moon Automotive, I’m sure they can repair it for you. It’s not safe to drive around for long on that donut,” I said, suddenly feeling a twinge of protectiveness toward her.

It stemmed from my bobcat, that much was clear. He’d remained alert this whole time. Not in an uneasy or concerned way, but in a curious way.

This woman intrigued him.

It wasn’t just her beauty—although she was stunning—it was something else. Before I could think on it any longer, the rain picked up.

“Good to know. I’ll swing by there soon,” she said, hoisting the tire iron and jack back into her trunk on top of the flat tire I’d placed where her spare used to be.

I grabbed the bags of groceries from the ground. “Do you want these in the trunk or the backseat?”

“Let’s put them in the backseat,” she said, popping open the back passenger side door.

As I leaned down to set them on the floorboard, I met the little girl’s big, inquisitive eyes.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Ellis.”

“I like that name. Mine is Serenity,” she said.

“That’s a pretty name.”

“My mommy’s name is Rachel, not Mommy.”

I laughed. “That’s good to know.”

“All right, sweetie. Let’s let Mr. Ellis go. I’m sure he has someplace he was trying to get to before the storm hits,” Rachel said, closing the door. She shifted her attention to me again and shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Thanks again for your help. I really appreciate it.”

“Like I said, no problem. Stay safe during the storm.”

Why was I so concerned for her safety? Better yet, why was my bobcat?

That was where it was coming from.

“You, too,” she said before climbing in her car.

As I walked to my truck, I heard her engine crank and then gravel crunching as she pulled away. I slid behind the wheel of my truck and shifted into drive before continuing toward Maribel’s. My head should be filled with thoughts about whether the old woman would help with this Xander situation, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was filled with thoughts of Rachel. Something about her had grabbed hold of my bobcat. Usually, he was calm and steady while in the presence of others, but with her, he’d been alert and curious in a way I’d never felt before. He’d watched her with a kind of intensity I couldn’t explain.

An intensity that left me hoping this wouldn’t be the last time I’d see her.