CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

Her foot caught on something, and Frankie cursed as she stumbled. Only Trick’s hold on her arm kept her upright. She hissed. “Will you take this damn blindfold off me now!”

“Nearly there,” he assured her.

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“Baby, we’ve only been walking for five.”

She snarled at him, though she had no idea if he noticed. When he’d said that he had a surprise for her, she hadn’t expected that they’d need to go stomping through the woods to reach it. Well, she was stomping, causing leaves to crackle and twigs to snap beneath her feet. Trick didn’t make a sound. If it weren’t for his hand on her skin and his scent surrounding her, she wouldn’t even know he was there.

For days she’d been very aware that he was hiding something from her—he’d occasionally shot her a little secret smile that had a slight taunt to it. But no amount of bugging on her part had made him even admit to having a secret, let alone made him tell her what it was.

Busy working on her sculpture, she’d let it go, especially since immersing herself in her work stopped her from thinking about the messes in her life. It had been almost two weeks since Iris’s funeral. Though the grief had lost its cutting edge, it still hurt to think of her and—

Frankie nearly tripped again. “Fuck, Trick, you need to take this thing off before I fall flat on my face.” Her wolf was embarrassed on Frankie’s behalf.

“Not yet,” he said, words vibrating with humor.

“Asshole.” Grinding her teeth, she kept walking—well, stomping. It felt like forever before he finally brought her to a halt.

“Don’t move from this spot, and do not take off the blindfold.”

Planting her hands on her hips, she impatiently drummed her fingers. “Fine.” There was the sound of metal screeching, like a roll-up door was being lifted. Then Trick was behind her, gently guiding her forward and inside . . . something. Before she could wonder at the slight draft or investigate the scents, the blindfold fell away.

“Surprise,” Trick whispered into her ear.

Frankie’s mouth dropped open, and her arms slipped to her sides. The building was pretty much a replica of the studio attached to her house—same layout, same amount of space, same high ceiling and ventilation system. He’d even ensured that there was a patch outside for her to work on. And she feared she was going to cry.

She turned to him, knowing she had to look dazed. Words failed her, and all that came out of her mouth was, “How?”

“The Mercury Pack Alpha, Nick, has a lot of contacts. One is an architect who runs a firm—they revamped the Mercury Pack’s main lodge, built all the lodges that are scattered around Nick’s territory, and then recently constructed his pack’s motel. I told them what I wanted, and they built the studio. I was impressed by how fast they did it.”

“That’s why you haven’t been pushing me to come here during the daytime lately,” she realized. “You said it was so that I could work on my sculpture, but it was because you didn’t want me to hear the construction work.”

He nodded. “That was also why we didn’t go on any more runs in our wolf forms around here.” They’d done it near her house instead. Trick stood back, mouth curved, as she wandered around the large space, touching things with a proprietary edge and leaving her scent everywhere. “So are you happy with it?”

A short, spontaneous laugh popped out of her. “How can I not be?” She crossed to him and looped her arms around his neck. “I really didn’t expect you to do this.” Her voice cracked. “I figured I’d just keep using the studio at my house.”

Trick smoothed his hands up and down her back. “This territory is your home. I want you to have everything you need for when you officially move here.”

She bit her lip. “Thank you.”

Smiling at the way her eyes sparkled, he said, “You’re welcome.”

Struggling to explain how fucking amazed and grateful she was, Frankie said, “I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” Like she’d had a few too many glasses of wine. “You’re the shit, Trick Hardy.”

He laughed, pleased to see her happy. His wolf was smug about their being the cause of that happiness. “How long before the hellhorse is complete?”

“Another couple of days.”

Good, thought Trick. Once it was done and it could be safely moved, he intended to press the matter of her moving to pack territory. “I take it you’ll be working on it some more today.” Which he fully supported. The sooner it was done the better.

“I have to head down to the salvage yard first. It’s a great place to get scrap metal. Before that, though, I’ll need to go to the house and get the van I keep parked at the back of the studio.”

If he didn’t have an important meeting to attend, he’d go with her. Hearing her talk about sculpting, Trick had become unexpectedly fascinated by it. He was interested in every step of her process, but he couldn’t be there for this one. “I want to sketch you while you work one day.”

Her nose wrinkled. “I don’t let people watch me while I work.”

“Which is why I’ll come up with a clever bribe.”

“Bribe?”

“I know what my baby likes.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Wrapping his arms tight around her, he lifted her off her feet and kissed her. The taste of her swam through him, invigorating and marking him and filling every empty space. They were her spaces to fill. She was born for him. His other half. Better half.

“Well, I don’t respond to bribes.”

“That’s okay. I’m good at getting what I want. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”

Frankie’s brows snapped together. “Why would you want to learn even one way to skin a cat?”

With a tired sigh, he just shook his head. “Forget it.”

A few hours later, Trick was leaning against the SUV, watching as a red Chevy Camaro convertible pulled up. Why the guy had asked to meet in the parking lot outside a construction site, Trick had no idea. But he didn’t trust the fucker as far as he could throw him, which meant he hadn’t come alone. Marcus was in the SUV, concealed by the tinted windows.

Within Trick, his wolf paced. He didn’t like the scents of metal, cement, sawdust, and burning plastic. Didn’t like the hammering, pounding, drilling, metal clanging on metal, or whir of a forklift. And he really didn’t want to be near the human who stepped out of the Camaro.

Said human took two confident strides toward Trick, studying him from head to toe. He probably would have looked down his nose at Trick if he weren’t a good five inches shorter. The human might seem composed, but there was an unnatural stillness about him that told Trick he was fighting the urge to fidget.

“You’re Patrick Hardy.” It was a statement that held a small note of accusation.

Trick just looked at him blankly, letting the moment stretch out. He didn’t push away from the SUV; he just continued leaning against it, keeping his shoulders loose and his stance casual. “Yeah.”

“I’m Brad Newman.”

“I know.” Trick had met him several times as a child. Apart from the lines of age on his face, the guy hadn’t changed much. He’d e-mailed Trick the previous evening, wanting to arrange a meeting. It was mostly curiosity that had made Trick agree.

Brad smoothed his tie. “Does Frankie know about this?” The question was posed casually, but it was clear that he was hoping the answer was no.

Trick shook his head. “I didn’t see the need to bother her with it.” Not until he’d gotten it over with, anyway.

“My father told me about the conversation you had with him at her house.”

“Did he?”

“He was raging. Even threw his glass across the room. My father doesn’t rage. Then he crumpled. Honestly crumpled—another thing he doesn’t do. I knew then that he wasn’t just angry about her having a relationship with a shifter, that there was something else. So I badgered him to tell me the rest.” Brad licked his lower lip. “He was upset because you made him face a few things. You made him see that both he and my mother let Frankie down in a number of ways. From what he told me, you seem to get her, which is something they never did.”

“But he still won’t accept my place in her life,” Trick guessed.

“No, he won’t. He’s as pissed at you as he is at himself. My mother doesn’t agree that they did anything wrong, so she’s giving him the cold shoulder now too.” Brad sighed. “Look, I love my niece. I want her to be happy. I do. However, given how the true mate thing worked out for my sister, I’m not convinced you will make Frankie happy. Especially when the whole situation is ripping my family apart.”

“Your parents are choosing to let it rip the family apart. They could just let it be, for Frankie’s sake. They won’t.”

“No, they won’t. That’s why I’m here.” Brad briefly averted his eyes. “I don’t agree that this is the right thing to do, but if I don’t do this for my mother, she’ll find another way to ensure that it’s done.” He pulled something out of his pocket and held it out.

Taking the small sheet of paper from him, Trick barely held back a growl.

“That’s a check for fifty thousand dollars.”

“I can read.”

“It’s all yours . . . if you walk out of Frankie’s life and never return to it.”

Seething, Trick stared the human right in the eyes as he carefully tore the check into tiny pieces. Some landed on the ground, others fluttered away with the cool breeze.

Brad’s jaw hardened. “Then maybe this will change your mind.” He crossed to his car, reached into the open window, and pulled out a manila envelope.

Trick took it with a bored sigh and slid out the thin file. Anger flared inside him as he read it. Apparently Brad had done a little fishing.

“It wasn’t easy to find that information,” said Brad, the smugness in his voice making Trick’s wolf snap his teeth. “Once Frankie learns that, she’ll hate your ass. She’ll be long gone. If you walk away now, she never has to know. She’ll be upset with you for dumping her, sure, but at least she won’t hate you.”

Trick returned the file to the envelope and tossed it at Brad’s feet. “Your source either didn’t know the entire story or decided to spice it up a little with some fiction. Either way, it makes no difference.”

“It would make a difference to Frankie, if she found out.”

“She already knows.”

Brad paused, nostrils flaring. “Knows that she’s not your true mate? That you walked away from your true mate years ago and that she tried to kill herself because of it?”

“I don’t explain myself to people, but I’ll give you a little info, since you’re Frankie’s uncle. Jana wasn’t my true mate; she was an emotionally unbalanced juvenile with a crush. Nothing more, nothing less. If you want to believe differently, that’s on you. But Frankie knows the truth; that’s all that matters to me.” Trick flicked a dismissive look at the manila envelope. “All this was a waste of my time and yours.”

“Do you care for her? Because if you do, you owe my parents.”

Trick couldn’t believe his fucking ears. “Say that again,” he rumbled.

Brad drew back. “You should be thankful to them. They raised her to be the person she is today. They cared for her, kept her safe, ensured she got a good education, and—”

“Lied to her all her life,” Trick finished. “They also made her feel like she didn’t quite measure up to their expectations. And considering they ripped Frankie’s paternal family apart by cutting them from her life, you could say they had this coming.”

Brad’s eyes narrowed. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I don’t like that sides have formed. I want Frankie to have all the people she cares for in her life. You and your parents are the ones who are stopping that from happening, not me. And for what? It’s not like we’ll expect any of you to step on our territory or welcome the pack into your lives. But if you and your parents want to be in her life, you all need to jump down from your high horses. So fuck them, fuck you, and fuck your bribe.”

Brad’s eyes flickered. “It was my mother who—”

“Your mother might know you’re here, but she didn’t ask you to write that check. You’re laying the blame on her in case I tell Frankie what happened here today.”

“If you tell her, she’ll be pissed that you came without her.”

“Yes, she will. But there will be no lies between me and my mate. I won’t keep this from her, even though I know it will hurt her. Like I told your father, you’re all driving her away with the shit you’re pulling. I think she’d have expected this kind of thing from your parents, but not from you. You’ve just sincerely fucked yourself over.” With that, Trick hopped into the SUV and sharply twisted the keys in the ignition. “Motherfucking motherfucker.”

Marcus blew out a breath. “Hell, Trick, I don’t know how you didn’t kick the shit out of the bastard.”

Trick reversed out of the space and drove out of the lot. “It was hard not to, but it’ll hurt Frankie bad enough to hear that her uncle tried bribing me. It would hurt her even more to hear that her mate and her uncle then came to blows.”

Marcus inclined his head. “You did the right thing. If you’d left a single blemish on him, he’d have gone crying to her with a bullshit story that made him a victim and you the villain.”

“I’d have left more than a blemish on him,” Trick rumbled. He’d have delivered some serious pain on the asshole.

After a long moment, Marcus said, “Hey, did she tell you that she and I had a little talk?”

Although Trick knew that his friend was changing the subject to help Trick cool his anger, he went with it. “She mentioned it. Reassured me that there’d be no awkwardness between you and her.”

“Some females wouldn’t accept our past so easy. They’d let jealousy eat them up. She obviously has enough confidence in you and what you feel for her to not worry about whoever came before her. That’s good. And it means you’ve done the right thing by not pushing her. Winning her trust and moving at her pace was what she needed. But I’m sensing that it’s getting harder for you not to push.”

“If you’re sensing it, she’ll be sensing it too.” She hadn’t said a word about it, though.

“Probably. You won’t have to hold out much longer, Trick. I’ve watched her with you. Watched her gradually soften. She used to frown at the way you constantly touched her. Now she leans into it. She never used to touch you back, but now she does. She’s also started to relax around the rest of the pack, but she doesn’t smile at us or talk as openly with us as she does with you. And if you’re not in the room with her, she’s uncomfortable.”

While the latter made Trick feel kind of smug, it also saddened him that she hadn’t yet fully relaxed with the pack. He understood it would take a little time, though.

“I like the way you are with her,” said Marcus. “And I have to say, I’m surprised, relieved, and impressed that she leans on you. A lot of females see that as a weakness. She seems to respect your need to take care of her, and she’s happy to let you do it—maybe because she’s never had anyone to lean on before and she’s not afraid to try it on for size. These are all good things that indicate that she’s happy with you and accepts that you’re her mate. She just needs to face whatever’s getting in the way of the bond, which I’m guessing is connected to the Newmans.”

Trick’s hands clenched around the wheel. “She’s still hoping she can find a way to make them accept her decision to have the pack in her life.”

“I don’t foresee that happening.”

“Neither do I, but they won’t think that they should feel guilty about that. They’ve always made her feel like the bad guy, and I fucking hate that. Oh, she sees that she’s not the one being unreasonable, but it still makes her feel like shit.”

“All you can do is exactly what you’ve been doing since you found her again—be there for her.” Marcus twisted his mouth. “We’re not far from her house. Why don’t we stop by and see her? I get that she’s busy, but it’s probably the only thing that will calm your ass down.”

Totally true. “She might not be back from the salvage yard yet.”

“Call her and find out.”

Frankie had just finished hauling the scrap metal out of the van and into the studio when her cell phone rang. She lowered the music and snatched the phone from the shelf. Trick’s name flashed on the screen. “Yup?” she answered simply.

“Hey, baby. You done at the salvage yard?”

She frowned at the strained note in his voice. “Yeah, I’m back at the house. Where are you?”

“About ten minutes away. I’ll be there soon to help you unload the stuff out of the van.”

Damn, he was too sweet. “I’m already done with that. But you’re still welcome to come.”

“I’ll be there soon,” he said, his voice a little warmer this time.

“Okay, I’ll—” The sound of a car engine made her turn. Seeing a blue Chevy Tahoe, she sighed. “Crap.”

“What?”

“Looks like Vance has decided to pay me a visit.”

Trick swore. “Do not let him in the house. Pull down the fucking studio door and ignore the bastard. I’ll deal with him.”

“I can handle him just fine myself.” She slowly walked out the side door as the car turned up the driveway that led to the studio. No way was she letting the bastard in her—“Wait, it’s not Vance,” she realized as she saw the license plate. Vance’s ended in “VCE.” “Motherfucker,” she spat, because the driver slammed their foot on the pedal and the tires screeched as the car zoomed right at her.

“Frankie? Frankie!” yelled Trick.

Without a thought she fled to the side door and turned into the studio, but the car followed her inside and screeched to a halt, clipping her leg hard enough to send her sprawling onto the concrete floor. Pain pounded up her leg and burned the heels of her hands. Grinding her teeth, she rolled onto her back. That was when the driver smoothly exited the car.

He looked vaguely familiar. She hadn’t gotten a good look at the guy who’d attacked Trick in the restroom, but she suspected that this was him. Drake. Well, fuck.

She clenched her fist. Where the hell was her phone? She’d dropped it when she fell, and she couldn’t see it anywhere. Dread hit her square in the chest.

In retrospect, it had been stupid to run into the studio—she would never have been able to shut the metal door in time to keep the fucker out, but she hadn’t been thinking. She’d been too busy panicking. That panic flooded her now, pumping adrenaline through her veins. She braced herself on her elbows, wondering if he could hear the frantic beat of her heart—it thrashed in her ears, just as her wolf thrashed inside her with rage.

He came toward her, whistling. “Hey, sweet girl. Fast runner, ain’t you? Just not fast enough. Now, why don’t I help you up?”

Her claws sliced out and she swiped at him, slashing his face and drawing blood. He jerked back, as if shocked by the sight of her claws. Taking advantage of that, she slashed at him again.

Laughing, he jerked back and dodged the move. Yes, he laughed. “I did not know you were a shifter. You live out here, no pack, no mate. It’s a good thing I like surprises.”

She struggled to her feet—bad idea. Her leg still throbbed with pain. Sensing he was ready to lunge, she snarled. “Don’t even try it, motherfucker.” She might not know the type of combat that shifters often learned, but she could still cause him pain.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but you need to come with me.”

“Not gonna happen.”

He moved fast. Wicked fast. His fist slammed into her jaw, dazing her. “Shame I had to mess up that pretty face,” he said. Whistling again, he dragged her toward the vehicle, but her bad leg crumpled and went out from underneath her. It caught him off guard, and he stumbled as she fell onto her back. Leaning over her, he sighed. “Do you have to be awkward?”

She thrust her claws into his abs, stabbing deep, scraping bone. “Yes.” He let her go so abruptly that the back of her head hit the concrete with an awful crack. Her head swam and nausea curdled in her stomach.

“Fucking bitch.”

A boot slammed into her stomach, knocking the breath right out of her. She curled up, hissing. Her wolf went ape-shit and lunged for the surface, but then sharp claws pressed against Frankie’s throat hard enough to break the skin. Both she and her wolf froze.

“I’m done playing,” he said. “Now, we’re going to get into the fucking car and go somewhere quiet. Somewhere where we can have some privacy. Won’t that be nice?”

Um, no. She knew deep down to her bones that if she left with him, she’d be dead within the hour. But there was no way of fighting back without getting her throat slit open. She forced her voice to shake as she said, “I’ll go with you. I won’t struggle. Just don’t kill me. Please.”

He beamed at her. “So polite. I like it when they beg. Wait until I tell your boyfriend how you begged for me. Ooh, he’ll sure as shit hate that. Now, sheathe those claws for me. That’s it. See, following orders isn’t so hard.” He dropped his claws from her throat and yanked her to her feet by her arm—fuck if that didn’t hurt. That was when she slammed her forehead into his nose. The animalistic sound that came out of his throat was a mix of anger and pain.

Even as her head pounded, she pulled free of his hold and snatched the hammer from the peg on the wall. She swung it at his head. A slight vibration shot up her arm as the hammer connected with his skull. He staggered with a pained grunt, hand flying to his head.

Knowing there was no sense in running, Frankie slowly took jerky backward steps, careful not to lose her footing. Hammer still in one hand, she unsheathed the claws of her other, waiting.

He glared at her, eyes cold, mouth twisted, blood running from his broken nose. “You’ll pay for—” He stiffened. They could both hear the mad rumbling of a car engine and the squealing of tires.

She smiled. “Here comes Trick.”

His eyes widened as he peeked outside. “Fuck!” He looked like he might make another grab for her, so she swung the hammer once more. She missed. But he swore and—clearly deciding she was more trouble than she was worth—scrambled into his car and reversed out of the studio fast. Then he sped away, out of sight, leaving a cloud of dirt in his wake.

Letting the hammer drop to the floor with a clang, she hobbled to the doorway and watched his car disappear down the road mere moments before an SUV paused just long enough for Trick to jump out. Then the SUV was gone, chasing the other vehicle.

Maybe it was the adrenaline crash or maybe it was the relief at seeing him, but both her legs gave out, and her ass hit the floor. Trick crouched in front of her and cupped her face. Even though his eyes were hard and his face was set into a mask of fury, she’d never felt safer.

Trick’s heart slammed against his ribs as he got a good look at her. Her jaw was bruised, pain was etched into every line of her worryingly pale face, there was blood spatter on her clothes, and . . . “Fuck, why is blood dripping down your neck?”

She lifted her chin slightly so he could better see the puncture wounds. “His claws pricked my throat; the cuts aren’t deep.”

Trick saw that she was right, but it didn’t calm him whatsofuckingever. His wolf predictably lost his shit and charged at Trick, demanding the freedom to stalk his mate’s attacker. Trick fought him, focusing on Frankie. Vengeance could come later. “Where else are you hurt?”

“Leg. Ribs. Back of my head. I don’t think I’m bleeding anywhere other than my neck.”

“You’re wrong,” he growled as his hand gently probed the back of her skull and he felt a sticky warmth and one hell of a lump.

She winced. “Fucking ow.”

Hating that he’d hurt her, he kissed her forehead. “I need to get a look at your stomach.” He gently peeled up her T-shirt and spit a curse at the black-and-purple bruise that was starting to form. A growl vibrated his chest. “I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him.”

“It was Drake.”

“I know. I can smell him.” The scent of the bastard was driving his wolf almost as crazy as the scent of her blood. “Marcus is chasing his ass.”

“He wanted to take me with him.”

It struck Trick that if he’d been even a minute later, Drake would probably have had her in his grasp right then. That thought was enough to make his breath catch in his throat. “You said your leg was hurt. Which one?”

She gently touched her calf. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it. He clipped it with the car.” She almost jerked in surprise as his claw sliced open the leg of her jeans without even grazing her skin. Damn, her calf was swollen and bruised, and she thought it was possible that the hit had fractured something. “Shit. Well, at least the sculptures are okay.”

Trick did a slow blink. “What did you just say?”

“He drove his car in here—he came close to knocking over the hellhorse. That would have been bad.”

He glared at her in pure disbelief. “Your wounds are bad.” She was more important than any damn sculpture.

“Don’t growl at me.”

Closing his eyes, Trick inhaled through his nose. “Woman, you drive me insane.” He straightened, and her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. He cupped her chin. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere.”

Frankie swallowed and let him go. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“You did it because some asshole just scared you out of your mind.” Standing, he carefully scooped her up. “We’re getting the fuck out of here. Taryn’s a healer. She can help with your wounds.”

“I need to lock up.”

“I’ll do that; let’s just get you in the car first.”

Frankie sighed. “Okay.” She melted against him, shaking as the adrenaline drained from her system. As he cradled her close to his chest, he buried his face in her hair and inhaled her scent as they headed to her Audi. She felt light-headed and dizzy. Dammit, she would not faint. Newmans didn’t faint. “You must have broken all kinds of laws to get here so fast.”

“I didn’t know what was happening; I just knew someone had come for you. I swear my fucking heart stopped—then it was pounding like crazy.” It still hadn’t calmed. “I heard you shout, I heard the car engine getting closer, and then the line went dead.”

“That guy’s not altogether sane, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. He won’t hurt you again. Never again.” Trick settled her in the passenger seat of her Audi and, careful of her wounds, clicked on her seat belt. “Wait here.” He quickly locked up the studio, found her phone, and secured the house. He was just adjusting the driver’s seat to give himself more legroom when his cell rang. “That’ll be Marcus.” Trick dug out his phone and answered, “Tell me you have him.”

A sigh. “I wish I could,” said Marcus. “I lost him.”

Trick growled, and his wolf lashed out in anger, raking Trick’s insides with his claws. “How could you possibly have lost him?”

“He pulled up outside a big fucking building and ran inside,” said Marcus. “I followed him in there and searched for him, but he’d just disappeared in the crowd. There were too many scents for me to find him.”

“Smart,” said Frankie, her shifter hearing picking up Marcus’s words.

“I’ll search his car before it gets towed and see if I can find anything that will tell us where he’s staying—if Morelli’s telling the truth that Drake split, that is.”

Trick closed his eyes, seeking calm. “I have to go, Marcus, I’ll talk to you later.” Ending the call, he slipped his cell back into his pocket.

Hearing his teeth grinding, she patted his thigh with a shaky hand. “I’m okay.” She couldn’t quite stop trembling. “Really, I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. But you will be.” He switched on the ignition. “We’re going home. Taryn will heal you.”

Frankie sure hoped his Alpha female was good at what she did, because now that the adrenaline had faded from her system, the pain was starting to kick in. Her head throbbed like a bitch, her leg pulsed with pain, and the puncture marks on her neck stung like hell. Worse, every single breath hurt, thanks to what she suspected was a cracked rib. “Stop growling.”

Trick couldn’t. When they hit a road bump and she gasped in pain, he swore viciously. “Sorry, baby.” As he drove, fury pulsed through his veins, threatening to steal the rationality that he was holding on to by a very thin thread.

He forced himself not to think of what had happened, to simply concentrate on the road so they didn’t end up in a fucking car accident. But it was damn hard while the scent of her blood filled the small space.

Finally back on their territory, he carried her up the face of the cliff, hating every step he took because he knew each jostle hurt her. She didn’t make a sound, though. She squeezed her eyes shut and shoved her face in his chest as one hand bunched up his T-shirt.

When he barged into the living area, everyone jumped to their feet like they’d been given a fucking electric shock.

“Shit, what happened?” demanded Jaime, her eyes wide.

“I’ll explain everything once Frankie’s healed,” said Trick. “Her leg is fucked up, she has a cracked rib, and there’s a goose egg on the back of her head with a slash that only just stopped bleeding. The puncture wounds on her neck have stopped bleeding as well. The bruise on her jaw has faded, but it’s still a little swollen.”

Lydia knotted her hand in her hair, eyes wide. “Oh my God.”

“Trick, lay her on the floor,” said Taryn, all business. “Ryan, open the window.”

Trick carefully set Frankie down. “Just stay still, baby.”

“Can’t really go far on this leg anyway,” she pointed out.

Taryn rested a hand on Frankie’s forehead, and each of her wounds glowed through her skin.

Trick frowned at his mate. “You didn’t tell me your shoulder was hurt.”

“He yanked hard on my arm to pull me off the ground, but I’m pretty sure my shoulder isn’t dislocated or anything.”

“It was close,” Taryn told her. Then she put her mouth to Frankie’s, inhaled deeply, and turned to the window as she exhaled. A stream of black particles zoomed through the air and out the window. Then she did it again and again.

As Taryn healed his mate, Trick quickly and succinctly explained to the pack what had happened. “Call Morelli,” he told Trey. “If I do it, there’ll be nothing diplomatic about what comes out of my mouth, and I’ll end up challenging the son of a bitch.” And he didn’t want to leave Frankie’s side.

“Morelli said Drake’s gone AWOL,” Tao reminded them. “He might not have had anything to do with it.”

Trick looked at the Head Enforcer. “But I’d settle for ripping out Morelli’s throat in lieu of Drake’s, which is why Trey needs to be the one who makes the call.”

Their Alpha male nodded. “It’ll be done.”

“You know what will happen,” said Dante. “Morelli will offer to find Drake, bring him in, and then hand him over to us, but only if you agree to an alliance.”

“Fuck him.” Taryn coughed and, done healing Frankie, sat back as she accepted a bottle of water from Grace. “He’ll get nothing from us.”

Trick helped his mate sit upright and checked her over, even though he knew each of her wounds would be gone. Until he saw for himself that she was fine, he couldn’t relax.

“We can get to Drake without his help,” said Ryan. “Besides, the guy’s insane, but he’s not completely stupid. He’ll know that Morelli might make that kind of offer, so he’ll keep his distance from him.”

“I agree,” said Trey. His gaze slid back to Trick as he vowed, “We’ll find him. And we’ll do it before he gets the chance to harm Frankie or anyone else.”

Frankie blew out a breath. “I really wish the hammer had connected with his skull both times.”

Trick blinked at his mate. “What?”

“After I broke his nose—”

“You broke his nose?”

“—I grabbed my hammer. But only the first hit connected. It hurt him, though, which fills me with glee. Still, it would have been more satisfying to have caved in the side of his skull.” Realizing that everyone was staring at her, Frankie frowned. “What?”

Jaime gaped down at her. “You really broke his nose and hit him with a blunt instrument?”

“Clawed his face and stabbed him in the lower stomach too,” said Frankie.

Lydia looked down at her niece in disbelief. “You look so sweet, it’s just hard imagining you swinging a hammer at someone’s head.”

Frankie opened her mouth to speak, but then Trick took her off guard by suddenly scooping her off the floor and stalking out of the room. “I can walk,” she said. His response was a low growl—the sound seemed to come from both the man and the animal. She rubbed his chest, hoping to pet the anger out of him. His muscles were so tight with tension, she wondered if they ached. His blood pressure was probably through the roof.

He didn’t put her down until they were inside his room. She grimaced as she said, “I badly need a shower.” She was covered in dried blood, which was no one’s definition of fun, and she knew that Trick had no chance of calming while the scent of her blood was in the air. He seemed to be barely holding on to his control.

He didn’t respond to her announcement other than by giving a short nod. It hurt her to see him standing there, muscles stiff and eyes fevered, caught up in a mood so dark that she wasn’t sure anyone could reach him right then—not even her. She knew all about needing space when you were angry, so, figuring that time on his own might help, she took a quick shower and scrubbed all the blood off her skin and out of her hair.

Afterward she wrapped a fluffy towel around herself and headed back into the bedroom . . . only to find Trick pacing up and down like a caged animal, neck corded, stare unblinking. His muscles weren’t quite so rigid, but it was clear that he was still far from calm.

He didn’t even look her way as she pulled on a T-shirt, panties, and shorts. She was just done brushing the tangles out of her wet hair when, still pacing, he finally spoke.

“Later we’ll go back to your place, pack your shit, and bring it all here.”

Frankie’s head snapped up. She figured she should have seen that coming. “Trick, I—”

“You’re moving here.” His tone left no room for negotiation. “It’s time, Frankie.”

“You know I can’t until—”

Trick rounded on her. “That asshole knows where you live,” he ground out, fists clenched. “What’s to stop him going back for you? It’s not enough that you’re here most nights. He could still do something cruel like set fire to the fucking house.”

Horror struck her at the thought. “Oh my God, he’d destroy my sculptures.”

Trick’s eyes blazed at her. “Could we forget about them for one damn second?”

“No, they’re important—”

“I know.” Trick cupped her face with hands that trembled slightly with rage. “I know that a piece of your soul went into every single one of them. That is all the more reason to bring them here, where he can’t get to them. Most importantly, you need to be here, where he can’t get to you.”

He should have killed Drake when he’d had the chance, Trick thought. Should have bludgeoned him with the steel bar. No, too quick. He should have held his head in the toilet until his lungs filled with fluid and the life left his body. “Your moving here is going to happen at some point, Frankie. There’s no reason why it can’t be sooner rather than later.” He made an effort to soften his voice as he asked, “Would it really be so bad?”

She sighed. “No. Look, I understand that it must be driving you crazy that you haven’t claimed me yet; I know I’m not giving you what you need.”

“You’re all I need.”

“But I’m not giving you the level of commitment that you rightfully want. And I know the urge to claim me has to be riding you hard, but—”

“I can wait to claim you. But while I do, I want you here, with me. Here, where you and your wolf are happy. Here, where the Newmans can’t turn up and give you shit. Here, where Drake can’t reach you.”

She jutted out her chin. “I’m not moving until the hellhorse is finished. I can’t. It’s not stable enough to be moved yet.”

Hating that he had to respect that, Trick inhaled deeply and took a moment to think. “You said it would take a couple of days to finish the sculpture. While you work on that, the pack will help me move whatever you want to take with you, including the sculptures that can already be moved. I’ll put them in your studio here.”

“But—”

“I know you’re still hoping that you can fix things with your uncle and grandparents,” he said, striving to sound sensitive. “I know you’re worried that if you move here, they’ll see it as you choosing a side. But they’re not stupid, Frankie. They’re well aware that you’ll come to live on pack territory for the simple reason that we’re mates. You can’t win with them, no matter what you do. I learned that for myself today.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”

He slid his hands from her face down to her shoulders. “I met with Brad earlier.”

“Brad as in my uncle?”

“He sent me an e-mail, asking to meet me alone.” Trick raised a hand when her eyes flared with anger. “I didn’t tell you because you would have insisted on coming, and then I wouldn’t have found out whatever it was that he wanted to say because he’d have minded his words in front of you.”

“And what did he want to say?” She clenched her hands when he hesitated. “Trick, tell me.” So he told her. And she gawked. “He offered you fifty thousand dollars to walk away from me?” Her wolf went stock-still.

“He said he was doing it at Marcia’s request, but he was lying. That was all him. She might have known about it—if she did, she’d probably even approved of it—but bribing me was his idea.” Trick rubbed at his jaw. The damn thing ached from how hard he’d ground his teeth. “He also did a background check on me. He found out about Jana—though he’d been told that she was truly my mate—and he threatened to tell you, thinking it would make me walk away so that you’d never have to know.”

Frankie should have been angry at the news. Instead the swell of emotions inside her just . . . deflated, leaving only the ache of betrayal. She wouldn’t have thought that Brad would ever do something so sly and devious—it seemed so out of character for him. But then, he’d lied to her all these years, hadn’t he? So maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised.

Trick tugged her closer. “I didn’t want to tell you about this, because I knew how much it would hurt you. But there shouldn’t be lies between mates. I won’t keep things from you.”

“You kept it from me until now. Yes, I know why. I also can’t disagree that you made a valid point: I would have insisted on going. He would never have said any of that shit in front of me.”

The pain in her eyes gutted Trick. He rested his forehead on hers. “I hate that they do this to you.”

Yeah, so did Frankie. She backed away, swallowing hard. “I’m going to sit out on the balcony for a while.” He moved so silently that she didn’t even realize he’d followed her until he took the patio chair beside hers.

At the impatient look she tossed at him, Trick raised his hands. “I won’t touch you, I won’t speak to you, but I also won’t leave you on your own. I’m here if you want to talk. If you don’t, that’s fine. But I don’t want you to be alone, so don’t ask me to move.”

She turned her gaze to the scenery. “Awkward fucker.”

“I’ve been called worse.” As he’d promised, Trick didn’t say a word as she simply sat there, facing the view, her gaze focused inward. That promise became harder to keep the longer she didn’t move. He didn’t know what was going on in her pretty little head, and he worried that it was something he wasn’t going to like.

Still, he kept his mouth shut and didn’t reach out to touch her as he so badly wanted to. No, not wanted. Needed. Not just to calm and reassure himself that she was physically fine, but because the drive to soothe pounded through him. He hated that she was hurting, hated that he couldn’t avenge that hurt.

His wolf wanted the freedom to hunt, mangle, and kill. Wanted to see and smell and taste Drake’s blood. Not even his mate’s presence was calming him or—

She straightened in her chair and twisted to face him. “Get ready.”

Trick blinked. “For what?”

“It should hit us any minute now.”

“What do you—?” Red-hot arousal slammed into him and flooded his system. Just like that, his blood thickened, his body tightened, and his cock filled to bursting. And then the drive to soothe her disappeared, completely drowned out by the urge to take and claim and mate. He double-blinked. “Fuck.”

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly bone-dry. “Yeah, we need to fuck.”