Shift Happens(65)
“Hmm?”
“Will you let me help you?”
I nodded and hoped I wasn’t making a mistake I would pay for with my heart and possibly my life.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
My phone beeped. I frantically dug it out of my pocket. Did Wick and his pack find the Vampires? Hoped so—I could get off this stupid roof and out of the chilly wind. Angie’d done nothing this evening but prance around her living room in her panties dancing—thank goodness she did it at home, because nobody should have to see that. No woman who wanted to keep some self-esteem, at least.
I looked at my phone and discovered a text from Mel. I groaned, knowing what she wanted without reading her message. She’d been on my case to go shopping with her all day. Now that everyone in Wick’s pack had these smart phones, I’d gone from invisible to easily accessible. I didn’t want her to know how dire my circumstances were, so I’d been shaking her off with weak excuses. Not that I didn’t want to spend time with her—I just lacked time to spend. I had three days left. My heart pounded against my chest at the thought of being Clint’s play toy.
I punched in my password and read her text. Please say yes to breakfast and shopping tomorrow. I need to find a cute crotch for next weekend.
A cute crotch? I stared at the phone in shock. That certainly wasn’t what I expected. I looked over the message again to make sure I read it right. Sure thing—she’d written crotch. Cute one? I texted back. As opposed to your regular one?
Smiling, I waited for her response. It came quickly.
FML! A clutch purse! I meant CLUTCH!
Hah! I stifled a laugh because Wereleopards weren’t deaf. My fingers ran over the keys quickly to send my next message. I like my current crotch. I wanted to ask what FML stood for, but it must be something I should already know.
We should meet and talk. You’re not in this alone, you know.
Can’t. I have three days before my ass is grass. When this is over, we’ll talk. Promise. I locked my phone and tucked it back into my pocket. I needed to focus.
I hated sitting around and waiting in human form. Without fur or feathers, the cold air slashed against my skin. But my falcon’s form had limits—texting one of the main ones. I adjusted my position to let blood flow back into my numb ass.
The door to the Wereleopard’s house swung open and I bit back a cheer. Angie walked out in a skin tight, hot pink dress. The square neckline emphasized her ample breasts and clung to her perky butt. Did this woman own anything casual to wear? She should buy stock in spandex brands.
I kept my eyes trained on her and watched as she sauntered to the garage. When a sleek black leopard emerged and disappeared into the shadows ten minutes later, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Wick: Tits McGee has left the skank shack.
His reply was swift: You have a way with words. I’ll send someone for your things.
I climbed out of my clothes and tucked the undies into my sweatpants. I’d no idea who he would send and the last thing I wanted was someone like John handling my delicates. Gross. I placed my cell phone on top and shifted into my falcon. There’d be no more communication with Wick. I was off the grid. Spreading my wings wide, I launched into the air. There was no point following Angie through all her backtracking and switchbacks. I knew where she headed.
****
Angie didn’t arrive on the North Shore from the SeaBus until well over an hour later. I couldn’t track time well in falcon form, but I could count SeaBuses. One arrived every fifteen minutes and four had come and gone before Angie and her hips promenaded off the commuter ferry. She wasn’t alone.
Flanking her on each side were two robust Vampires. My falcon couldn’t scent things like my wolf or mountain lion, but I’d bet my government paycheck they weren’t Lucien’s.
Angie now wore a leopard print dress with a black fuzzy trim and a sweetheart neckline. It clung to her body, showing every curve with its tight fit—no surprise there.
When a sleek black car, probably a Mercedes, pulled up, one of the Vampires reached over and opened the door for Angie to climb in. The car pulled away and left the Vampire escort behind. They must have another car around to follow, but I wasn’t going to stick around to learn insignificant details. I took to the air and trailed the car with Angie.
****
Night descended, and with no more SeaBuses to count, I’d no idea how long I trailed the car before they pulled up to a large building that fit the word ‘estate’ better than it did ‘house.’ Three more cars drew up behind it—all sleek and expensive-looking. Not being a car person, if asked to elaborate on their description, I’d say they were black and shiny with silver trim.