Full Blooded (Jessica McClain #1)

Full Blooded (Jessica McClain #1) Page 37

I shook my head. “No. I’ve only made one change … and let’s just say it didn’t go exceedingly well. I’m not actually sure I can make a successful change again … um … without help. I haven’t had any Werewolf 101 tutorials yet. If people stop trying to kill me long enough, I may be able to squeeze some in, but so far, other than what I’ve witnessed as an outsider all my life, I don’t know much of anything.”

He turned and continued picking his way up the rocky slope. I followed. “Maybe you can make a change when we get to the cabin,” he said. “I’m certainly not a wolf, but I’ve been a shifter for a lot of years, too many to count. I might be able to help.”

“Maybe.” Making a successful shift could be the ticket back to my Pack. As a wolf, it would be easy for me to find another way out of the mountains quickly. “But, just so you know, there’s a strong possibility I would eat you instead of the rabbit if I change. I don’t have the greatest control and I can’t promise things won’t get out of hand.”

“I’m counting on it.”

He laughed all the way to the next clearing.

The cabin was simple. And beautiful. The aged logs on the small structure were weathered and faded a charcoal gray. The metal roof had a nice brown patina, and a tiny stone chimney, made of flat river rocks, ran up one side. It boasted some new latches and clean boards, so I knew Rourke had recently put some time into it.

“Wow, it’s so cute,” I said as we entered the clearing. “It’s amazing, actually. How’d you find it way up here in the middle of nowhere?” The backdrop to the cabin was the continuing side of the mountain we were on, framing it like a fantastic painting.

“I’ve spent a lot of time in these mountains,” Rourke answered. “When you spend as much time as I do exploring the woods, you’re bound to find something.” He gestured to the right of the structure. “There used to be a rough trail leading to a deserted mine, located a few miles east of here. I figured this cabin must’ve belonged to one of the miners who decided to live here year round.” He shrugged. “Or at least that’s my best guess.”

“How come no one else has discovered it?” Meaning humans.

“A few people have stumbled in here and there, but there’s no easy way to get here other than what we just did.” Which had been a heavy climb up the steep side of a mountain. “The land sheers off in every direction eventually. The old mine was lost to a landslide years ago, effectively eliminating any easy routes that could’ve run up here long before I ever found it. I’ve tried to buy the land, but it’s owned by the state and there’s too much bureaucracy involved. There’s no record of the cabin at all, so when and if they ever find it, I’ll move on.”

The tiny structure reminded me of my home in a strange way. It didn’t have much in common with the elegant Lodge of my upbringing, but the cabin, edged by rolling green on all sides, surrounded by a forest of old growth, felt good. Really good. “You said you had food?”

“Right inside.” He headed toward the door, chuckling again. It wasn’t nice to know everything I did was funny, but at least he had a nice baritone. Marcy was right. Listening to it wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

He turned the knob and headed inside.

“No lock?” I followed him through the door.

“Not necessary. If someone wanted something badly enough, all they’d have to do is break a window. Hauling glass up the side of a mountain is a pain, so I figured if I had to replace some of the food once in a while, it’s easier than bringing up more glass.”

Inside, an old wooden countertop ran along the left wall with a cutout for a sink, but an aged plastic basin balanced in its place instead. Homemade cabinets hung on the walls above the countertop, framing a lone, four-paned window in the middle. The doors to the cabinets were long gone, exposing rows and rows of canned goods.

I made a beeline for the sustenance. “Corn, beans, fruit, chili,” I read, twisting a few of the labels so I could see what they were. “Rourke, you could open your own restaurant up here: Cute Cabin Cuisine.” I grabbed a can of chili. “Mind if I eat this cold?” I eyed the small propane camping stove in the corner, but honestly, it would take too long at this point.

“You can eat anything you’d like. Have at it.” Rourke’s arm threaded around my waist, surprising me enough to jump. Dammit. I had to quit reacting to him.

He slid an old, rickety drawer open right next to where I stood and pulled out a can opener. He handed it to me, eyes dancing. “You may want to use this instead of your teeth. It’s a little more civilized.”

I ignored him, swiping the opener from his hands.

While the drawer was still open, I plucked out a fork and headed for the small table. I sat in one of the two chairs. “I’ll show you what civilized looks like, cat.” I used the can opener, and once the lid was off, I dipped my fork in and immediately drew out a big fat forkful. With a full mouth, I asked, “Ith that where you theep?” I used the tip of my fork to point upward in case he couldn’t catch my meaning.

His gaze flicked to the small loft. A single mattress of indeterminate size lay there, covered in what appeared to be an aged patchwork quilt. “Yep, that’s where the bedroom is.”

“Ith cute,” I said over another mouthful.

Rourke pushed off the countertop where he’d been standing and came to sit in a rocking chair by the fireplace. The only other furniture in the room. He looked massive and out of place in the obviously fragile antique. It’d probably been handcrafted by the cabin’s original owner.

He looked like Gulliver sitting in a chair leagues too small.

I stifled a giggle with another bite of chili.

Then I sat back and ate the rest of the cold meat and beans. As my brain calmed and my stomach stopped aching, I sobered considerably. It’d been easy to focus on the tough climb and trying to lose our scent trail, but what the hell was I doing here?

This wasn’t a happy vacation in the mountains with my lover. My Pack was at war—a war sparked because of me—and I had to quit screwing around. I’d followed Rourke up here, like a good girl who’d been ordered by her father, but now it was time to figure out my next move. And in order to do that, I had to gather some facts.

Starting with Rourke.

I finished the chili, set the can and fork down on the table, and turned decisively toward him. He seemed to be patiently waiting for me to finish my meal. His face was quiet, almost brooding. It seemed we’d both fallen into the same what-the-fuck-do-we-do-now mode.

I cleared my throat. “Okay, Rourke. It’s time to figure this thing out once and for all. I think our happy-talk quota is all used up, quite possibly forever. You got me here, saved me in a strange sense, made sure I stuck with you, and I’ve played along. Now I need you to give me the real reason why you’re helping me. This isn’t a game, this is my life, and I want to know the real deal. A trained mercenary does not help a damsel in distress, he avoids her like the plague. I am a burden to you, and mercs hate burdens. James’s sudden paradigm shift to trust you was abrupt. He had to have a good reason, or a damn good hunch about something. I want some answers to why you’re playing nice.”

Rourke shifted in his chair, his muscular arms gripping the rails as he slid himself forward until he rested at the edge. It was a miracle that thing held him. He set his elbows on his knees and waited a few beats before answering. “Irish was right to trust me. I brought you here because I owed your father a debt.”

Not what I was expecting.

He continued, “It hadn’t been my original plan, but it came along, so I took it.”

I narrowed my eyes. “My father didn’t mention you owed him any debt, and believe me, we discussed you in depth. If he felt he could’ve trusted you because you were beholden to him in some way, we wouldn’t be sitting here having this conversation. He would’ve arranged a closed meeting in a safe place. End of story. What you’re saying doesn’t ring true, Rourke.”

His mouth went up on one side, making him look cocky. “Cats and dogs play by different rules, sweetheart. What your father did for me had nothing to do with battle or war, which I believe a wolf holds above all else. After he did what he did, I made an oath to pay him back in kind. Irish must have found out about it somehow, or heard the rumors, or just guessed, but it doesn’t matter. This opportunity came along, so I took it.” He shrugged. “That’s all there is to it.”

“That doesn’t explain our meet-up in the first place. Saving my life because a war dropped unexpectedly into your lap, and you just happened to have a debt you needed to repay, doesn’t equal meeting me for drinks because you were hired to extract information. Those are two very separate things.” I sat straighter. “Listen, Rourke, I’m not expecting you to divulge every single detail to me, but I’m looking for answers to help preserve my life. Nothing more.” He stared at me so intently, my breath caught for a moment. I cleared my throat. “Please, I need to know,” I said softly.

“What specifically do you want to know?”

“Who hired you? I need to know, because the details of my shift shouldn’t be out yet. It’s only been a few days, and that most likely means we have a traitor in our Pack. If I want to survive, I need information.” I tried another tack when he didn’t answer. “If keeping me alive a little longer counts toward repaying the debt you owe to my father, consider telling me what I need to know as the final payment. After I have that, I’ll go on my way and you can be done babysitting me for good.”

Rourke stood and started to pace.

It was a move so like my brother’s, my heart jumped into my throat suddenly and my thoughts rushed to Tyler. I brushed my mind, but there was only dead space there. The same dead space I’d gotten all day.

Rourke stopped in front of the countertop and propped himself against it. There wasn’t exactly any place else to go. “It’s not as easy as all that.”