THE VIXEN AND THE WOLF
The Coldwater Pack, 1
Ella Grey
Copyright © 2017
Prologue
Two years ago
There were a lot of things Tessa Carey hated to do, and while clothes shopping and paying bills were on top of that list, they paled in comparison to job interviews. Most days she preferred not to be around people at all, but bills needed to be paid, which meant she needed a job. She kept her hands hidden underneath the desk and rubbed them together. It was a nervous habit that often left them sore and red but one she never could stop.
It probably didn’t help her nerves that The Golden Goose was a strip club. A place she wouldn’t have dreamed of going to if she had a choice. It had opened ten years ago, but any sparkle or glimmer had dulled a long time ago under a layer of dust. It was probably why they were hiring a cleaner. Non-descriptive panels of stainless steel covered the outside of it. This meant it resembled every other building in the lot. It hadn’t made it easy to find it. There was another building next to it, which looked identical. Tessa had been careful to double check it was the right place, by poking her head around the door.
The first clue that she was in the right place was the crushed red velvet seats and the receptionist who smirked at her. She twisted her fingers again and ignored the sharp stab of pain. What would people think if they found out she was interviewing for a job in a place like the Golden Goose? Laugh probably. She didn’t look anything like a dancer.
Not that it made any difference, people believed what they wanted to believe.
Ms. Philips, whom she hoped would be her new boss, smiled at her over her job application. A striking woman in a pencil skirt and white blouse, with long dark hair pulled up into a ponytail, Ms. Philips smiled and offered her hand when she answered the door. Everything about her seemed nice and approachable. There was no reason for Tessa to be nervous. She had the experience. She’d been prompt. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the nagging voice in the back of her head. The one that told her she’d never be good enough.
“It says here that you’ve got previous experience?”
“Yes.” It was hard to breathe, and she took a shallow breath trying to steady her heart rate. “I haven’t had many jobs, but my last two involved night cleaning.” Her face went hot, and she glanced down at her hands again. This part she hated. People never really understood what she went through daily. The struggle to get out of bed and out the front door. They suggested she needed to get out more, which she would if some days it didn't feel impossible. Or her favorite, that she needed to confront her fears. They made it sound so easy, but it wasn’t. There was always a constant, disembodied voice in the back of her head that told her she would never be strong enough. That she would never be good enough and nobody liked her or wanted to be around her, so what was the point? She kept herself to herself and preferred to keep it that way. She forced herself to look up again. “I’m a hard worker, but I’ve never been very good with crowds or people. It makes finding suitable work hard.”
“I don’t suppose that you’ll have that problem here. The club closes at two. I would expect you here at that time and for you to work through to six. You’ll be the only one here, and I doubt you’ll have much contact with anyone but me.” Ms. Philips flipped through the other pages. “Our bouncers leave at half past, but I have an arrangement with the security in the factory next door. They expect you to radio in on the hour every hour. If you don’t they’ll send someone over to check on you. It's just a protective measure.”
Tessa felt a spark of hope. The way the woman talked it was like she already had the job. “That's understandable.”
Ms. Philips sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I’ve had three cleaners in as many months. Henri accidentally scared off the last one.” Tessa frowned, and Ms. Philips continued. “Henri Tull. He runs the company you'll be radioing in to. A nice enough guy when we follow the rules.” The corners of her lips lifted into a smile. Whoever this Henri was her boss seemed to like him. “The hours aren’t for everyone, and I expect you to come in on the weekends. The Golden Goose is open from Friday to Monday. They aren’t the most unsociable hours.”
“That doesn’t matter to me. I need the job, and this one is perfect for me.” Please hire me, she silently begged. Another sharp stab of pain went through her. The dry skin on her fingers had cracked again. She took a shallow breath as she untangled her fingers and ignored the thin silver of blood across her knuckle.
Ms. Philips studied her for a moment before she finally nodded. “Okay, I’ll give you a chance.” She handed over a sheet of paper with a pen. Tessa reached out with her less damaged hand and took it from her. “This is the contract. It’s got pay details on it and some small print I suggest you read before you sign. I’ll also be running a background check on you since you’ll be locking up.”
Tessa nodded. “That won’t be a problem.” She scanned the page. and when she was sure, signed and handed it back over using her good hand. It felt a little odd since she was left handed, but she didn’t want to explain the blood.
When the other woman stood and offered her hand, Tessa followed suit. A firm grip and a warm smile, Tessa had a good feeling about her new job. “Welcome to the team.”
****
Henri Tull pushed the door opened to the factory and walked up the stairs to the office at the top. David Parr, a member of his pack and team, glanced up from the computer screens. David’s long black hair was tied up in a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck, and he rubbed his eyes with his hands. “Remind me why we do this kind of work again?”
Henri sighed. It wasn’t the first time the conversation had come up, and it was starting to bug him. “Because it’s safe work and less likely to draw the attention of humans.”
It looked like David didn’t intend on dropping the subject. The horse shifter leaned back in his chair. “One of my old contacts in the army is looking to set up a group of soldiers for money. Asked me if I was interested.”
“You know how I feel about that kind of work.”
“It’s my decision to make, Henri. I just wanted to make sure you were aware I was thinking about it. Watching these screens is probably the dullest thing I’ve ever done, and it’s driving me insane. I need to get out of here.”
Henri shrugged out of his jacket and hung it up on the hook on the wall. “If a contract comes up that involves a little bit of excitement I’ll put you on the top of the list. Happy?” There were a few pack members who were interested in jobs like that, ones he straight up refused, but Henri knew he needed to keep his pack happy. That was what an Alpha did.
“I appreciate that,” David replied wryly.
Henri pulled out a free chair and sat down. “Anything to report?”
“Did you not just hear me complain about how boring this job is?” At Henri’s cocked eyebrow, David sighed and continued. “Nothing on the factory floor. It looks like the Golden Goose has a new hire though. I spotted her about two.”
“Another dancer?”
“Not unless they’ve started to give out private dances at stupid o’clock in the morning. No, I guess she’s the new cleaner.” David checked his watch. “Should be calling in soon if Carla remembered to tell her the routine. Can I leave now?”
“At least one of us should enjoy our freedom. I’ll see you at the compound.”
The Coldwater Pack had always lived in the mountains, far away from the eyes of humans. It was only in the last twenty years that the few houses were added to and the compound was created. Henri had brought the pack into the 21st century. To anyone who stumbled across it, it looked like a preppers' camp. In truth, it was much more than that. Everyone in it was a shifter, mostly wolves, but there were a few others, shifters Henri had taken in.
The radio burst into life. “Hello, is anyone there?” A woman’s voice filled the room. “Damn it, did I pushed the right button? Hello?”
Henri picked up the radio. “Yeah, you pressed the right button. Who is this?”
“I’m Tessa, the new cleaner. Am I talking to Mr. Tull?””
He smiled. Nobody called him Mr. Tull. She sounded nervous and very formal. Interesting combination for a worker at the Golden Goose. The dancers had confidence in spades. “That you are. I prefer Henri though. Carla told you the rules?”
“That I need to call in on the hour? Yeah, she did.” She stuttered over her words a little.
“Keep to them. It’ll probably give you one hell of a fright if I had to barge through the door to check on you.” That had only happened once before, and Henri suspected that was why the other lady, Connie, or something had left. She’d been muttering something about him being a caveman when he left again.
“Carla mentioned you had to do it before. You don’t have to worry about me.” She sounded apprehensive, and Henri smiled.
“Have a good shift, Tessa. I’ll talk to you in an hour.”
“Night, Mr. Tull.”