Chapter Seven
“So, you think some of the Lone Wolves are ready to be reunited with their families?” Killian asked Grant Anderson, Alpha of New York, as they sat in his office for their meeting.
“Dr. Faulkner’s been doing some work with them, and I’ve also hired a very good psychologist,” Grant replied. “They both agree that there are a few candidates who might be ready. How are we on locating their families?”
“Quinn’s been working on finding them based on the interviews we conducted and facial recognition software,” Killian said. “Quinn, let us know what you have. Quinn. Quinn?”
“For fuck’s sake, are you with us?” Sebastian snapped at Quinn.
“Huh?” Quinn started, looking at the three men staring at him. Killian seemed curious, while Sebastian Creed looked annoyed. The Alpha, on the other hand, had a confused look on his face. “Yeah, sorry. Late night, you know.”
“Gotta keep those women happy, right?” Killian joked.
“You do what you want on your own time,” Sebastian growled. “But when you’re on the job, you keep your head straight.”
“All right, all right,” Quinn huffed, wondering why the hell Creed kept him around if he hated his guts. Sure, he made a bad impression on the boss when he hit on his mate the first time they met, but he thought that was in the past now. He shrugged. “Anyway, yeah, I’ve been working on the info we have and cross referenced it with the Lycan High Council files of shifters around the world. I’ve compiled a list of possible remaining family members for most of them, and I can grab addresses once we’re ready.” He took out his pad and handed it to Grant. The Alpha took it and began to swipe through the files.
“This is good work,” Grant said. “You put all this together, just from the interviews from the Lone Wolves?”
“We didn’t have much to work with,” Quinn said. “Most of them had spotty memories; some don’t even remember their real names or how old they are. I had to guesstimate for the most part and used some de-aging software to try and see what they would look like at different ages. Then it was a matter of figuring out how to get the information we needed.”
“Excellent work.” Grant looked at Sebastian. “I should have snapped up your Lone Wolves before you did, Creed. You’re good at spotting talent. I bet Quinn here could have made millions in my tech department.”
Sebastian laughed. “Yeah, well next time, don’t be so slow, old man.”
Grant chuckled. “I’ll try to keep up with you whippersnappers. Now,” he stood up, “I have a teleconference in five minutes. Would you mind showing yourselves out?”
“Not at all Alpha,” Killian said, standing up. The three men left the office and headed to the private elevators that would take them to the garage.
“Next time we’re in there, you stay focused,” Sebastian told Quinn when they were alone inside the elevator car. “I know you like to screw everything that moves, but think about pussy on your own time.”
Quinn felt the anger boil inside of him at the insinuation, but Killian shot him a warning look. “Yeah, yeah. You’re just jealous because you’re both boring old married men now.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, and Quinn felt the rumbling of the beast inside the other man. Shit. Well, it was a nice life. Good thing Killian’s here and can identify the ashes. However, instead of turning into a giant dragon, Sebastian did something unexpected. He laughed.
Killian and Quinn looked at each other, confused.
“Motherfucker,” Sebastian chuckled. “You weren’t thinking about getting your dick stroked. You’re thinking about a girl. The girl.”
“What?” Quinn exclaimed.
“So, Quinn,” Killian snickered. “Who is she?”
“Forget what I said, you’re not boring old married men,” Quinn muttered. “You’re more like old women who love to gossip. Take your quilting circle and go find someone else to hassle,” he said gruffly, turning away from them.
He ignored Killian’s call and walked to his car. It had been a while since he drove anywhere, and Quinn was glad he took his Range Rover today, if only so he didn’t have to ride back with Killian. He had it shipped over from Portland when he moved here, but the damn thing was hard to drive in Manhattan. Still, he missed driving, something he never got to do anymore. He maneuvered it out of the garage and headed back to Lone Wolf Security.
Okay, so fine, he had been thinking about Selena the whole damn time they were in the meeting. How could he not when she was looking so fine today in that dress? The top part clung tightly to her breasts, then tapered to her small waist, and flared at the hips, the skirt ending just above her knees. He thanked several gods for the warm weather because he finally got to see Selena’s shapely legs—so perfect and pale—and the image of them wrapped around his waist popped into his head.
“Motherfucker!” Quinn exclaimed as he slammed on the brakes. An old lady was crossing the street, and he had been so caught up in his fantasy that he didn’t see her. The hood of his car must have stopped inches from her. The old lady glanced up at him, flashed him a dirty look, and then gave him the finger before proceeding.
Quinn banged his forehead on the wheel. He had to stop thinking about Selena that way. He had just resolved to stay away from her last night. At least he did, but his dick wasn’t listening.
Clearing his head, he drove the rest of the way to Lone Wolf without any other incidents. He parked the car in the garage and went to the office. Maybe some work would help keep his mind off the redhead. Yeah, that should help.
As he opened the door to the office, he could smell the faint scent of butterscotch in the air. Damn. Couldn’t even get any peace at work. Evie was at her desk and Luna and Meredith were sitting on the couch, but there was no sign of Selena. He nodded a greeting at both women and stalked to his office.
Quinn sat in his chair, contemplating what to do next. He thought about his conversation with Selena at the pizza shop. Was he curious about his past? Maybe. But he already knew most of the answers. His mother told him the truth, after all. Not directly, but when he grew older, he understood. The truth was Quinn was the product of an affair between his mother and her married lover.
Anna claimed to have been in love with Quinn’s father, but he already had a wife and couldn’t leave her. Why, he didn’t know. Weren’t all Lycan children cherished? Being Lycan, he should have been welcomed into his father’s clan. But he wasn’t. Instead, he and his mother were tossed out like garbage. Left to fend for themselves with no clan to call their own and no one to support them. When Anna died when he was ten and the authorities couldn’t find any living relatives to take him in, he went into the system.
Quinn bounced around from foster home to foster home. They were all a blur to him or, at least, that’s what he told himself. Any mention of the past had Wolf on edge, but still, some memories couldn't be forgotten. But he learned to survive. That was what mattered. Learned how to run away, cover his tracks. He got better each time, dodging cops and social workers who thought they were helping him by putting him back in those homes. It was only after Archie found him, huddled in some warehouse with a bunch of other delinquents, that he finally felt safe and let his guard down.
Swallowing the pain, he grabbed the handle of the bottom desk drawer and pulled it open. The envelope lay there, his name right on top. With a deep sigh, he took it and laid it on top of his desk.
***
Quinn slumped back in the seat of his Range Rover, looking at the large house in front of him. It was a beautiful home, done in a classic Italianate style with tall arched windows and ornate decorations, low hipped roofs, and a central tower with a cupola. The brick exterior made it look warm and inviting, and he wondered if the same would be true of its occupants.
As if his life wasn’t full of enough ironies, the envelope containing his past brought him to Upstate New York. Albany to be exact. Archie had been thorough in his investigation, and the address written on the first paper inside jumped at him immediately. It was only a three-hour drive from Manhattan. Quinn spent the whole night wondering if he should go. He didn’t sleep at all, and, finally, it was five a.m. and he was exhausted. By the time he woke up at noon, he had decided. Curiosity had pricked at him, and he had to find out for himself.
According to the file, Quinn’s father was part of the New York clan. He couldn’t believe that his father was in the same state. Grant Anderson probably knew him, too, though he probably wasn’t Alpha yet when Quinn’s mother got pregnant. Jacob Martin. That was his name. And with a little bit of Googling, everything clicked into place. Right around the time Quinn was born, Jacob Martin was elected to Congress. He was one of the youngest congressmen ever to be elected in his district. Inside the file was a picture of his father at his victory party, standing next to his lovely wife. With so much at stake, Martin probably didn't want to risk news of the affair or love child being splashed across tabloid headlines. And now, according to the billboard he passed on the way here, Martin was running for Governor of New York.
Quinn gripped the steering wheel. Inside him, Wolf was going crazy. It did not like reminders of the past, and, right now, all it wanted to do was rip something up. Archie had taught Quinn to control the animal, and he took a deep breath, trying to remember the lessons the old man had taught him. He really should just walk away. He opened the envelope, confirmed what he knew (that his biological father was a selfish, heartless bastard), and so he didn’t need to be here.
Still, Quinn couldn’t scratch the itch. He opened the door of his car and walked across the street. Now or never, he thought. As he walked up the porch, he could feel Wolf start to get agitated. Get a grip. Lycans lived in this house, and he couldn’t let them sense his damaged wolf.
He pressed the doorbell, and, by the time the door opened, he still didn’t know what he was going to say. Would his father answer?
An older, attractive woman with blond hair opened the door. “Yes?”
“Um, hi.” His throat closed up, and his palms suddenly got sweaty.
“Can I help you?” Her eyes narrowed into slits and her nostrils flared. Lycan. He could sense the wolf inside her. And she could sense Wolf, too.
“No. I mean, yes.” Fuck. “I’m here to see Congressman Martin. I’m—”
“He doesn’t want to see you.” The woman’s voice was cold and cutting.
“Excuse me?” Quinn tried to keep his voice steady and calm. Looking down at the woman, he realized who she was. She was much older now than in the picture, but she was still beautiful. His father’s wife. Carla Martin. “You don’t even know who I am or why I need to see him.”
“I know who you are.” She stepped forward and closed the door behind her. “You’re that woman’s son. His former secretary, Anna.”
“Then you know what I am to him.”
“Yes, but why you’re here, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Didn’t your mother tell you?”
“My mother’s dead.”
“I’m sorry,” Carla said in a voice that didn’t sound sorry at all. “But she should have told you that Jacob wanted no communication from either of you.”
“I just want—”
“Can’t you see what you’d do to him if you keep this up?” Carla asked. “He’s about to become Governor of New York. The highest office any Lycan has ever held. And, who knows, he might make it all the way to the White House. Can you imagine what that would be like? The Alpha himself has thrown his support behind Jacob. If it came out he had an affair and a son outside marriage, you wouldn’t just be ruining his life but also destroying any chance our kind has to advance in politics.”
“Jesus, lady,” he said. “I just want to see him.” He was starting to hate this bitch. No, scratch that, he already hated her.
“And then what?” Carla crossed her arms over her chest. “He doesn’t want you,” she added with a huff. “That should be clear by now. That’s why he paid her to go away. He couldn’t let the tabloids know about you and ruin his chances of getting elected.”
Quinn kept his hands at his side, trying to control the turmoil of emotions running through him. His jaw tightened and his lips pursed together.
“What do you want? More money? I can give you money.”
“I don’t want your fucking money, lady.” Quinn took a deep breath. “This was a mistake,” he muttered under his breath.
“Damn right,” Carla agreed. “Do us all a favor and just leave. And don’t come back.”
“I’m not planning to,” he snarled as he turned away. His legs felt like lead, but he used all his strength to walk back to the car and get inside. As he turned the key in the ignition, he saw Carla watching him. Probably making sure he did leave. Well, rest assured, Quinn was never going to come back here again.
He stepped on the gas, following the road back to the highway. Inside him, Wolf was howling in pain, pleading with and begging him. For what? The animal whimpered. It needed comfort, soothing. He suddenly swerved onto the shoulder and then slammed his fists on the horn, letting out an anguished cry. Goddammit. He wished Wolf would just get angry and rip out of his skin, but the animal was too broken. Maybe because, deep down inside, he always wished that his mother was wrong. That his father did love her back and that he wanted Quinn, too. But it was evident now. Life was not a fairy tale, and there was no happy ever after in the end.
With a deep breath, he looked at the road ahead. It was a long drive, and it would be dark by the time he got to New York. Better get a move on.