Chapter 4: Denial

Chapter 4: Denial

Daniel Jones

The car jerks to a stop in front of the pack house. There are still wolves in the front, and nude members frolicking from one area to another, but I don't pay any mind to them now. 

"Danny, you good? What's got your wolf all worked up?" I glance at myself in the rearview mirror, finding my eyes completely black. 

"Look out for the pack tonight. I'll be back in the morning." He nods, pushing open the car door. There is no room for argument in my tone, and he knows it. 

The moment he closes the door, I put the car in reverse and pull out my phone. 

"Hey, I need some information," I say to the man on the other end of the phone. He grunts, probably not too thrilled to have been woken by my phone call in the middle of the night. 

"Someone just arrived. Seattle airport, flight 28890." On the other end of the line, tapping fills the silence. 

"Who-"

"I don't know." I cut him off, squeazing my phone a bit too hard in my hand while every detail I studied inside the airport runs through my mind. 

"You got their ID photos?" I ask, picturing my dark hands threading through her almost black hair. God, I never liked dark haired girls. Blondes have always been my thing. 

"Yeah. Yeah, man. What did he look like?" Shit, of course he would think this is pack related. 

"She. Dark brown hair, light brown eyes, white, about five foot five." She also had a toned waist, thick thighs, and one hell of an ass, but I decide to keep that part out. There's a long silence on the other end while I turn the car onto the second highway. It's a straight shot from here to the airport.

"Six matches."

"Twenties."

"Four matches," he tells me right before my phone dings four seperate times. I glance down at the photographs.

There she is...

"Did you get the photo's?" I trighten my left hand on the wheel, sucking in a deep breath while trying to focus on the road instead of her picture.

"Yeah. Number three."

"What do you want to know?" He yawns in the middle of his question.

"Where is she staying?" There's more clicking on the other end, and more silence.

"She got a ride from Roddy." Fuck. Why that guy? William chuckles, noticing the prolongued silence.

"How does he get so much business? Doesn't his Alpha have tabs on that dickhead?" I run my hand over my face, pushing the adrenaline down while pulling the car towards a turn off towards Marissa's. 

"No idea. This girl part of the Redriver pack?" God, she probably doesn't even know werewolves exist. I couldn't imagine her knowing about our Canadian rivals. 

"Don't know. Just keep tabs on her location, alright?" The broken down sex-dive of a motel slowly yawns into view inside my headlights. 

"No can-do, Boss." I hit the brakes a bit too hard, not prepared for his denial. 

"The fuck did you just say, William?" 

"Sorry, Alpha. No phone. Can't track." No phone? Who the fuck doesn't have a phone in this day and age? 

"Right. Whatever. Just, send me her files. I'll wire you what I owe you." Dropping the car in park, I turn my headlights off, tuning into the sounds of each bedroom. Almost each one of them contains a moaning or groaning wolf. Of course she had to get here on a full moon. Couldn't it be a new moon? I'd much rather her be around a bunch of sick, vomiting wolves than horny, uncontrolable ones. 

"Don't forget-" I cut him off again. 

"Secure line so the Chief of Police doesn't find out. Yeah, I remeber." I hang up the phone and climb out of the car. 

Stacy, the motel manager, smiles up at me. 

"Alpha Daniel, been a while." She flashes her white teeth up at me, and I remeber a few times I would have pounced on that mouth. 

"Yeah, the girl. Where is she?" She draws her brows together, batting her thick lashes up at me. 

"Who?"

My hand lands on the lobby table with a loud slam. 

"Damn it, Stacy! Tell me where the fucking Mundy is." Her shoulders tighten, and her spine straightens. 

"Six! Room six, Alpha." I slam the thin door on the way out, finding my way back to the car. Without turning the headlights on, I start the engine and park across the parking lot from room six. It gives me the perfect view of her sleeping figure. I don't know why she didn't close the curtains, but the thought of someone else seeing her sleep burns something deep inside my chest. 

Checking my watch, I find it to be almost five in the morning when I hear another vehicle pull into the parking lot. The yellow cab pulls to an instant stop directly in front of room six. I watch as Roddy Randal stumbles from the front seat, slamming the door behind him. 

Even from inside my car I can smell the booze on him. 

I keep both eyes trained on him as he takes a bottle of vodka from his car, and trips forward towards her door. 

My hand is swinging the door to my car closed before I notice I am out of the vehicle. 

"Roddy-" he turns to look at me, his eyes unfocused. A wolf has to get seriously smashed to be this drunk on a full moon. 

"Oh, here he comes! Fucking great Alpha of the North!" He takes another drink. 

"You have your own Alpha, and I suggest you find your way back to him." I take the bottle from his hand, finding it almost empty. 

"I don't have to do shit for you, Danny-boy." I don't think before breaking the glass bottle against his head. He wips his head to the side for a single second before straightneing himself. 

"Ain't no boy here. All I see is a pathetic loser who likes to rape Mundy women on the full moon." I take a step forward, and another when he tries to retreat. 

"If I see you here again, I'll rip your fucking throat out." The words hardly come out through the growl errupting from my chest, but he understands. 

He takes another step back, crashing his heel into her door before turning to run for his car. The movement mimicked the sound of a knock, and I hold my breath when I hear her voice. 

"Yeah?" Fuck, it's perfect. Her voice is smooth and low. God, I have to see her. 

I peak through the curtains finding her doubled over a trash can. She's sick? I should have known. I should have been watching her closer. 

Making it to the lobby in a matter of five large strides, I throw my hand up towards Stacy, who tries to greet me. Hurredly, I push past her into the employee lounge, finding a can of ginger-ale, and a cheap microwavable burrito. Fuck, it's not good enough for her.