Blood shot straight to my toes, leaving a hollow space in my chest. Well, I already had the internship and I knew Foster's office was in a bind. My life was my life, and I wasn't ashamed of it.
"I've worked in restaurants primarily since I was old enough to get a work permit, sir."
"Waitress? Bartender? That sort of thing?"
Foster's eyes were questioning, but not judgmental like Dale's had been.
"Yes, sir."
Foster slapped a hand on the table. Dale jumped. I didn't. He pointed a tanned finger at me and his face split into that politician's grin again.
"Perfect! You know, I get young suits coming in here with their chests puffed out and resumes thick as my thigh. They worked for this professor or that law firm. Whatever. You want to know what I find? Retail clerks. Waitresses. People who know how to think on their feet when some asshole's standing in front them blaming them for every damn thing that ever happened to them. Those are the people who don't flinch and get shit done, Dale. Life is messy. Non-linear. You get beer spilled on your shoes, feta cheese down your apron, and loudmouths trying to push you around. But you do your job. You already know that, don't you Abby?"
"Yes. Yes I do, Congressman Foster."
Foster threw his head back and laughed, revealing a row of pearl white veneers. He thrust his hand across the table, prompting me to shake it again. I did. This time, he clasped his other hand over mine and smiled.
"Good hire, Dale," he said. "I gotta feeling about her. Now put her to work on something that matters."
I rose to my feet, my hand still in Foster's, and straightened my skirt. Dale grumbled something beside me then gestured back toward the door. Foster let me go and was already fumbling for something else on his desk. Dale closed the door behind us.
"That went well," he said, somewhat begrudgingly. "You never know if you're gonna get Good Landon or Bad Landon. Consider yourself lucky for now."
I was already learning that taking a neutral stance with Dale was likely the wisest course. We went back to my desk and he got me set up with Lexis passwords and a stack of files on a few new bills coming to vote in a few weeks. I wanted to introduce myself to the rest of the staff, but Dale didn't so much as look their way through any of it. Mercifully though, he soon left me alone with my files and government-issued laptop. I got started, immersing myself in the files first.
Much later, the growling of my stomach indicated the passage of time. I'd been at the files for hours. I might have carried on like that. I had an apple and a protein shake in my messenger bag and planned to work straight through until someone told me to stop or they cut the lights. Dale finally walked out of his office and stood in the open doorway of the congressman's just as I got through the last file. I rose from my desk intending to ask either of them what they'd like from me next.
I got just as far as Dale's shoulder when the elevator doors at the end of the hall opened behind me and every hair along my spine stood on end.
My back stiffened and a whoosh of air skittered across my neck. The ground thudded with heavy footsteps. Their owner moved with the force of an avalanche as he strode down the hall toward us. My eyes traveled over muscled forearms where he'd rolled up his crisp white dress shirt. His red tie swung across his broad chest as he charged toward Foster's office. As he passed me, I got an eyeful of his gray designer suit pants tailored perfectly over his taut rear end. My eyes caught Dale's as his mouth gaped open. It took him a second, but Dale recovered long enough to speak.
"You can't just barge in here."
The man turned, his eyes blazing hot. My blood simmered and heat shot straight through me. He was big, built, with piercing blue eyes that flashed bright. Another werewolf, to be sure. But, this guy was different. Commanding. Scary as hell. And gorgeous.
"Like hell," he said, his voice sending a vibration straight along my spine. He held up a rusted metal object in one hand and headed toward Foster's desk. Foster leaned back in his chair and fixed a lopsided smile on his face.
"Here we go," Dale whispered near my ear. "Pay attention. This might be your next project."
"Mr. Lanier? What a pleasant surprise," Foster said, sarcasm dripping from each syllable.
Lanier lobbed the metal object in the middle of Foster's desk, scattering papers and leaving a chink in the wood. It was a great, heavy thing, with lethal-looking serrated edges in a semi-circle.
"Don't look surprised," Lanier said. He stood back and ran a hand through his mass of auburn hair. The wavy edges brushed his collar. "There are about a half a dozen more leg traps out there where that one came from."
Foster steepled his fingers beneath his chin and leaned back in his chair. Lanier's chest heaved. The air seemed to crackle around him with his barely contained rage.
"Leg traps," Foster said. "You think I put them there?"
Lanier shook a finger at him. "I've been telling you for months we've got a poacher problem. And I've also told you what's going to happen if I catch one."
"Poachers." Foster leaned forward and dropped the smile. He narrowed his eyes and smacked both palms flat on the desk. "Does it say Department of Natural Resources on my office door? How is this my problem?"
Lanier made a noise low in his throat that made gooseflesh cover me. My heart thundered in my ears, and I wasn't even the focus of his anger. Foster kept a brave face, but I saw the corner of his eye twitch. He was scared. Lanier knew it too. He leaned forward, planting his own palms on the desk.
"I'm the only reason you're sitting behind that desk. If you want to keep sitting behind that one or get a bigger one you'll need to go through me as well. If I find another one of these on Bonner's property or anywhere else in Wild Lake, or if any of my people get so much as a scratch on them, I plan to hold you personally responsible."
Then, he rose to his full height and turned. It took everything in me not to shrink against the wall. I can't explain it, but I knew it mattered that I didn't show fear. Dale, on the other hand, trembled as Lanier finally noticed him. Lanier's eyes flicked to mine and his pupils widened. For an instant, it felt like the world slowed down into a freeze frame with Lanier the only thing moving. He took a step toward me and cocked his head to the side. His full lips curled into a half smile even though the fury stayed in his eyes. He was heat, power, dominance.
When he leaned toward me, I zoned in on his luscious bottom lip. I imagined what it would taste like if I took it between my teeth and bit him there. Or better yet, how would it feel if he did the same to me? My cheeks grew warm from the flame of a slow blush that traveled all the way up from between my breasts. It happened in just a fraction of a second, but his eyes flicked to my neck and the warmth of his breath hit me on the sensitive skin just below my collarbones where my blouse opened. I pressed my hand against the wall to keep my balance. Lanier finally took a step back. Then, everything shifted back to normal time.
"Keep your shit straight, Dale," he said, his eyes still locked with mine. "Are you new here?"
I blinked hard and thrust out my hand. "Uh. Yes. I'm Abby. Winslow." God. I don't know why I did that. A part of me wanted to crawl under the nearest desk until Hurricane Lanier moved through.
Lanier smiled full-on this time and took my hand in his, shaking it firmly. His body heat seemed to travel from my palms straight to the center of my chest, warming me, making me blush even deeper. I knew what he was in an instant. But, instead of fight or flight, my body cried out kiss or fuck.
"Sebastian Lanier. Good luck, Miss Winslow. If Landon's got Dale showing you the ropes, you're going to need it."
The moment he let go of my hand, the air seemed to suck straight out of the room. He gave me one more glance over his shoulder and strode out of the office with the same determined purpose as when he came in, leaving me shuddering in his wake.
Chapter Two
So, for twenty-one years living in Wild Lake, I'd only heard the rumors about werewolves. Four hours into my coveted internship, I'd met two of them up close and personal. Both Dale and the congressman let the leg trap incident pass without explanation. The two of them retreated behind Foster's closed door. I heard muffled shouts from Foster. When Dale emerged, his color looked gray and his eyes stayed that glinting yellow, wolfish color until he got his breathing under control. As the workday ended, Dale simply stormed past my desk without a word.