Afterlife Read online

Viktor finally strode into the room. “We cannot eat until we have cake! Always dessert first on birthday.” He took the bow off Hunter’s head and rumpled his hair. “You are big boy today. Happy birthday,” he said, repeating it in Russian. “I see you have many gifts. Open your hands.”

  Hunter splayed his fingers and looked up at him.

  “Nyet. Cup them together like you are holding water.” When Viktor reached in his pocket, it jingled, and he dropped several coins into Hunter’s hands.

  I leaned over the table to see.

  “These are special coins. Very old. You should keep them in a special box. Do you have a box to put important things in?”

  Hunter shook his head.

  “You do now,” Switch said, returning from the kitchen and holding out a wooden box. He opened the lid, and Hunter dropped the change inside.

  When the box closed, Hunter placed it on the table and ran his fingers over the wolf carved on the lid.

  “That was nice of you,” Gem said.

  Switch put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Can’t have coins without a place to put them. When Viktor told me what he was giving him, I thought about a box I had as a kid. I used to put all my treasures in there, which amounted to nothing more than rocks, a watch face, a map of all the places I wanted to visit, an arrowhead I found once while digging in the yard, and a pack of gum.”

  I jerked my head back. “Gum?”

  “Yeah. They discontinued it, so I saved my last pack.”

  “Some brands last for years,” Wyatt said, twirling a fork between his fingers. “Have you ever tried the stuff made from whale blubber? It’s the best.”

  Christian hooked his arm over the corner of his chair. “Do you know what happens to whales when they’re trapped?”

  I pinched his leg. “Not at this party,” I hissed. Christian didn’t come with a filter, especially when it came to random animal facts that might repulse others.

  He clenched his jaw and glowered at Wyatt before steering his gaze to the kitchen entryway.

  Kira floated in with a three-tier cake that was the most colorful creation I’d ever seen. She had masterfully used rainbow stripes over the blue icing, and it looked like a professional cake you would order.

  “I showed her a magazine,” Gem said with a deliberate nod.

  Shepherd rushed to help Kira, no doubt fearing she would drop the tray. The six candles lit on top were precariously close to setting her kerchief on fire. When they reached the table, they gingerly set the cake in front of Hunter, the flames dancing, wax dripping down the candles.

  Wyatt began singing “Happy Birthday” again, and even though we’d already been through this, we joined in for an encore. This time, we were loud.

  Shepherd held his spot behind Hunter’s chair and quietly watched. It was near sunset, and Kira hadn’t lit the lanterns or chandelier, so the six bright candles illuminated Hunter’s enthralled face.

  Claude folded his arms over the back of a chair. “Go on, little one. Make a wish and blow them out. If you wait too long, the cake will melt.”

  Hunter tilted his head up and looked at Shepherd, who pressed his lips tightly together. When his father nodded in approval, Hunter leaned forward and blew out two candles. Shepherd’s eyes glistened as Hunter struggled before snuffing them all out.

  His victory received a thunderous applause of palms slapping against the table.

  “Finally! We can eat,” Wyatt exclaimed.

  Hunter plugged his nose and waved away the smoke.

  While Kira pulled the candles out of the cake, Viktor circled the table to his chair and briefly glanced at the snacks behind him, no doubt wondering where his wine collection had gone.

  “We’re not drinking tonight,” I informed him, watching Shepherd hack through the beautiful cake.

  Instead, Viktor filled a crystal glass with punch and took his seat.

  With a stuffed cat on his lap and toys within reach, Hunter nibbled his dessert and then fed cake to his dinosaur. He tried putting one of Blue’s carved figures into his box, but it wouldn’t fit. Shepherd dragged his chair next to his boy, his elbow on the table and his fist tucked against his cheek as he watched Hunter delight in all his goodies.

  “Was your phone call a job offer?” I asked Viktor hopefully.

  “That was… personal call.” A smile touched his lips. “I’ve made plans to dine with the enchanting Miss Parrish.”

  “Lenore?” Had I been eating, I would have choked on my food. “Do you normally go out to dinner with your associates to talk business?”

  “This is not work related, and she is the one who invited me.”

  Christian’s chair scraped against the floor as he scooted back and got up.

  Gem walked around the table to hand Viktor his cake and then set a plate in front of me. “You have a date, Viktor? Do tell.”

  Blue scooted over to Christian’s chair. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest to have a personal relationship with someone who contracts work for us?”

  Christian returned from the punch bowl and handed me a glass. “Perhaps you should find yourself a lass who will let you wear the pants. That one is all trousers.”

  Gem frowned as she sat in her chair. “Since when are men the only ones allowed to ask someone out? That’s an archaic ritual with no purpose except to assert that women should have no power over what happens in their lives. Good for you, Viktor.”

  “Women complain that chivalry is dead.” Wyatt licked icing off his fork. “But the minute you go old school with chivalry, they call you a chauvinistic asshole.”

  “Maybe that’s because you are an asshole,” Blue retorted. “Ever thought of that?”

  He swallowed his bite. “All I’m saying is that women never ask me out, so I’m the one doing all the work.”

  “That doesn’t help prove your case,” Blue countered.

  “Whatever you say, bird lady. If a woman’s pretty, I let her know it. But I treat them with respect. Ask Claude.”

  “It’s true,” Claude said from across the table. “Wyatt speaks to females with respect. It’s what he does with his eyeballs that I have an issue with.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wyatt shoveled a large bite into his mouth.

  “Aye, you don’t have any control over your leering ways,” Christian agreed. “Those eyeballs of yours would incinerate if splashed with holy water.”

  “Can we change the subject?” Gem snatched a candy ring from the table and put it on her finger. Instead of eating it, she admired it as if it were a real ruby.

  We kept the conversation light and let Hunter play with all his toys for about an hour before Kira served spaghetti and meatballs. Because it was a special occasion, she and Switch stayed in the room, though they chose to sit in one of the booths. Normally they ate at a different time so they wouldn’t overhear sensitive discussions we had about work.

  I wasn’t sure where Wyatt put it all, but after gobbling up ten cookies, he enjoyed two helpings of dinner. Hunter nibbled on everything, but he was too excited to sit still and eat his entire dinner. I’d given him a giant bottle of bubbles—which he blew on everyone—and a kite. I figured since we had plenty of land behind the mansion, a kite would give Shepherd some father-and-son time with him.

  “You seem a million miles away,” Christian said, his arm around me, his chair scooted close.

  I stared at the empty plates and cake crumbs on the table, listening to everyone in the gathering room as Hunter played with his new toys. “I’m just tired.”

  “Nightmares?”

  I shut my eyes. The nightmares used to be about Fletcher chaining me to a wall, but now those dreams mingled with darkness, a coffin, and suffocation. “I think I just need a new mattress.”

  “Don’t be fibbing. I haven’t brought up your burial since that night, but if you want to talk about it, I’m your man. I’ve been there. I’ve done that.”

  I tugged on his fingers that rested over m
y shoulder. “Talking about it doesn’t make it go away. It doesn’t make me feel better. What would make me feel better is finding the person who did it.”

  “And what would you do? Spoon out their eyes?”

  I flicked his palm. “I want to know why they did it. If they’re getting back at me for something, if I know this person…”

  Christian sighed melodically. “You’re too young to appreciate patience. You can’t let something like this consume your every thought, or you’ll never enjoy your life. Put all those emotions stirring inside you on the back burner.”

  I smiled. “That’s such a human thing to say.”

  “Would you rather I suggest you dismember their corpse in a wood chipper and feed it to wild boars?”

  “How did I find such a romantic?”

  He kissed my head. “I’ll never feed you to the hogs.”

  Switch swaggered over, flipped Wyatt’s chair around, and straddled it. “Do the lovebirds have plans today?”

  “You’re a wanker,” Christian said.

  Switch gave him a bored look. “News flash—I don’t give a shit what you think. I’m not here to impress you.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  Switch addressed me with a look. “Going to see your old man?”

  “I hadn’t planned on it. Why?”

  Switch rubbed his chin against his arm and looked at the empty cookie tray. “Just wondering.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He shrugged and averted his wolfish eyes, which went against his nature. Switch wasn’t supposed to meddle in my work or personal life, but something was bugging him, and apparently he couldn’t help himself.

  “Switch, I’ve got a knife in my boot. If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’ll add two more ornaments to my Christmas tree.”

  His gaze darted to the gathering room and then back to me. “I don’t know for sure. I’m not around the local packs as much as I used to be, but I drove out there yesterday, and something’s off.”

  “Off how?”

  “My father had a few important people over, including Crush. When I walked in the door, they got real quiet and gave me the look.”

  “What look?”

  “The look Keystone gives me when I accidentally walk in on deep discussions.”

  I folded my arms on the table. “Why would my father be involved in Shifter business?”

  Christian snorted. “Why wouldn’t he be? Your da has a gift of inserting himself where he doesn’t belong.”

  When Switch sat up straight, his chair creaked. “If there’s anywhere Crush belongs, it’s in the middle of pack business. Well, at least with the packs in that area. They’re family. Anyhow, just thought you might want to pay him a friendly visit.” Switch stood and flipped the chair around. “They don’t tell me much about pack business anymore. Not since…” He rapped his knuckles against the table. “I need to put together some study guides. See ya.”

  I watched Switch strut out of the room with a rock star stride that must have beckoned the ladies… up until they learned about his sketchy past. From my understanding about Shifters, the protection that came with belonging to a pack was paramount, but none of that mattered now since he couldn’t settle down and mate until his time at Keystone was up.

  What mess has my father tangled himself up in?

  I scooted back my chair. “I’m heading out.”

  “Have a nice ride.”

  That was Christian’s way of not inviting himself. Just as well. Whenever he and my father were in the same room, they were like two sticks of dynamite with a short fuse.

  I swung my leg over Christian and straddled him.

  “Mmm, I like that,” he said, his voice low and sexy.

  I gave him a feather-soft kiss and then nipped his bottom lip. Before his erection reached full capacity, I broke the kiss and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. His pulse ticked against my lips but didn’t tempt me. My thoughts were elsewhere. “I might be home late. Keep the bed warm?”

  “You think I want to hang around here with the loons? Perhaps I’ll go out for a pint.”

  When I licked his neck, Christian hissed and jumped in his seat as if a snake had bitten him.

  “If you keep that up, Precious, I’ll take you right here on this table.”

  We both turned our heads when Claude forcefully cleared his throat. He glared at us through one of the archways in the divider wall like a judge about to sentence a criminal.

  “Why don’t you shove a fecking cookie up your nose, Chitah?”

  It wasn’t as if Hunter was anywhere near us or within earshot, but Claude couldn’t help reacting to emotional scents.

  With that, I stood and briefly touched the onyx ring on Christian’s finger. He centered his eyes on my ruby necklace, and it felt as though we were claiming each other with that quiet exchange.

  I stretched away. “If you go out, behave yourself, Mr. Poe.”

  “Always do, Precious. Always do.”

  Chapter 2

  When I pulled my truck into my father’s driveway, the trailer porch light switched on. I honked my horn, a sound he was familiar with since this was his old truck. It was either that or risk him charging outside with a shotgun pointed at me.

  Crush leaned on the railing while I parked. “You got mud on your truck.”

  I slammed the door and rounded the front. “It’s old, like you. It’s gonna get dirty.”

  Crush chuckled. “Don’t I know it.”

  When I reached the top of the steps, he wrapped me up in a bear hug.

  “I missed you, Cookie.”

  I squeezed him hard and let go. “It’s barely been a week.”

  He folded his arms over the Harley logo on his tattered, oil-stained T-shirt. “You’re not still wound up about that little errand, are you?”

  Crush still didn’t think giving me a necklace with a hidden camera on my last mission had been a big deal even though that little stunt could have gotten him killed or blown my cover.

  Walking past him, I glared. “The next time Viktor asks you for a little favor, say no.” Once inside the small trailer, I waited by the round kitchen table on my left and stared at an empty TV dinner tray. Nothing left but a few brownie crumbs, chicken bones, and a puddle of grease. “Tell me you’re not back to eating that crap.”

  “I’m too damn tired to cook when I get home. Fruit spoils in a day. That shit will last in my freezer for thirty years.” He lifted the plastic tray and dropped it into the trash. “Quit judging my life.”

  I pulled out a vinyl chair and sat. “You could at least buy one of those roasted chickens. They have premade dinners at the grocery store. Containers filled with salad, beans, soups—healthy stuff.”

  “I had chicken tonight. That’s healthy.”

  “You do realize that’s nothing but grease and sugar.”

  “Isn’t that what fathers are made of?”

  “You’re practically pickled.”

  He rummaged around in a drawer. “Don’t give me that sass.”

  There was no point in trying to change his bad habits, but I kept hoping that maybe one day he would listen.

  I stared at the muted television in the living room and recognized The Honeymooners playing. Crush liked watching old shows—especially comedies. It seemed like just yesterday I was living here. Everything was the same, and yet so much time had passed. Of all the enemies I’d fought over the years, time was the most elusive and cruel. I twirled a large skull ring in the center of the table before cleaning off the motor oil with a paper napkin.

  Crush returned to the table with two bottles of orange soda. “Feel free to tell me all about your last assignment. The whole damn city knows about it now. Well, they don’t know about you specifically, but I might have bragged to one or two of my buddies.”

  The ring swallowed up my finger. “You can’t talk about my job to anyone, not even people you trust.”

  After sipping his bubbly drink, he set down the
bottle and pulled the elastic band out of his grey goatee. “You looking for a place to crash for a while? Trouble in paradise?”

  I sat back. “Don’t look so hopeful. No, everything’s fine with Christian.”

  He flicked the bottle cap across the room, showing his disappointment.

  “I’m actually here about you.”

  The creases in his brow deepened. “If this is some kind of fried-chicken intervention, you can get back in that muddy-ass truck of yours and roll on outta here.”

  “Rumor has it that something’s going down, and you’re in the middle of it.”

  His blue eyes narrowed before he nodded in understanding. “I’m not sure which is bigger—Switch’s mouth or his imagination.”

  “Cut the shit. I can tell something’s going on. You’ve got that look.”

  He belted out a laugh. “What look?”

  “You’d be the worst poker player with your tells. Like the way you’re scratching the back of your neck and avoiding eye contact. And now you’re rubbing under your eye to stop scratching your neck.”

  “Dammit, Raven. Maybe I got fleas.”

  This time I laughed. “Still the same old bulldog.”

  “I’ll drink to that.”

  We clinked our bottles before taking a sip.

  “So spill it. I’m going to find out one way or the other. You know I don’t want you involved in dangerous shit. Self-care means managing your cholesterol, eating healthy, avoiding stress, and not getting yourself killed.”

  He sniffed. “You’re just mad because I told Wizard and his boys to take a hike. I don’t want their wolves pissing around my property, babysitting me like I’m a fragile fucking human. It’s bad enough they did all the repairs.”

  I snorted. “Bad enough? They saved your home from collapsing on you or burning down. You shouldn’t have done that. I have a dangerous job, and I like knowing you’re safe. Having a wolf on the property isn’t the worst thing that could happen to you.”

  He arched his brow while holding the bottle to his lips. “Since when did you become the parent?”

  “Quit steering the conversation and tell me what you’re up to. You can trust me.”

  “Jesus, girl. I know that.” Crush got up, peered out the window behind me, and closed the short curtains. Then he ambled into the kitchen, opened the freezer, and took out a gallon of ice cream. He set it down between us and offered me a serving spoon.