Present

By the time Julian dropped anchor, Dallas had showered and dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top. The sun had already begun its descent on the horizon. As loathe as she was to admit it, the sway of the boat soothed her, as did the water lapping against the sides. Talking to Chrystal had also eased her concern after Julian’s detailed description of the path the Volchitsa had torn through the States.

Mixing a can of cream of mushroom soup with the steamed ramen noodles, she stilled at the sound of him descending the steps. Awareness swept over her. If he planned to push that collaring, they were going to have a real moment. As it was, she concentrated on fixing her meal.

Then he was there, his presence invading the wide space. It didn’t matter that the galley overlooked the salon or how wide the yacht was. Julian dominated his chosen arena. The vessel was unmistakably his. From the colors—earth tones with hints of red here and there—to the photographs scattered about. She recognized them all.

“There’s real food to eat,” Julian said as he closed in behind her. Turning, she faced him and cradled her bowl.

“I like this.” It wasn’t a lie. She survived on ramen noodles for years, and mixing it with some creamy soup gave it a different texture. At her age, comfort food shouldn’t weigh into her decisions on eating. Swirling some noodles onto a fork, she stepped around Julian and moved to the bar. The stools were locked in, but all she had to do was flip a catch to free one and sit.

Julian hadn’t found a fresh shirt, instead he wore only the jeans he’d dragged on after sex. Turning his back on her, he gave her a full view of the scratches she’d dug into his flesh. She’d marked him the hell up. Amusement curved through her and she took another bite. Their reunion had been many things, but boring wasn’t one of them.

Drawing out a dish of some kind, Julian went to work frying fish. Even, methodical movements wasted no effort. While the fish sizzled, he retrieved what looked like zucchini, peppers, and a tomato. Setting the vegetables aside, he also pulled out two bottles of beer. After popping the caps on the brown bottles, he set one of the bottles in front of her before taking a pull from his.

“Let’s hear what you know.” He spoke with such equanimity, it actually made her uneasy. She preferred it when he glared at her or seethed in silence. It kept him distracted and from examining everything she said too closely.

“Care to be a little more specific?” Baiting him might not work to her advantage, but it held the probability of throwing him off his game.

“Don’t play games. You wanted my trust, and you agreed to my terms. Don’t make either of us regret the détente.” The lack of volatility irked her. His divorcing himself from reacting to her would only make her work harder.

“I spent several years off and on in Russia and Eastern Europe over the last decade.” Time she’d spent keeping her distance from Chrystal, but only after she’d verified Julian continued to protect her. “I have allies in several of their packs, not including Diesel’s other cousin Leonid. I only met him in passing before the last visit.”

Julian turned the fish, after adding some seasoning. Finished with chopping the vegetables, he added them to a second pan. The scent of both twined around her and left her stomach cramping. Rather than complain, she ate another bite of her ramen noodles.

“So you worked your way through their packs or simply played tourist in their territories?” Too many layers of meaning to sort through whether he asked out of curiosity or implied an insult.

Does it matter? She put a cap on her natural pig-headed reticence toward authority. “I worked as a smuggler. I made arrangements between the packs, carried missives and messages. I also worked as a courier to bring their business dealings to other nations.”

“You gave them access to the States?” Ice slicked his tone all over again, and he faced her. Nothing friendly inhabited his gaze.

“No,” she answered, not flinching away from his stare. “I’m not an idiot. If they wanted something here, I passed on the job. My only goal was to keep moving, never to settle, and to make sure Chrystal had money in her account to pay her bills.”

Brow furrowing, he studied her for the space of several heartbeats. “You still put money in her accounts?”

“Yes, though when she withdrew money in Nebraska…”

Julian raised his hand, and a smile alighted on his firm lips. “You were tracking her withdrawals. It was how you monitored her location.”

Though it wasn’t a question, she nodded. “You can think whatever you like of my parenting skills. You can hate me for leaving you. That’s your prerogative. I took care of her as best I could.” Even when she’d had to leave.

“Why did you leave her in the first place? You taught her to call you by your name? Not mom or mother? Why did you raise her away from the packs?”

The truth did not come easily to her. Not anymore. She’d spent too many years shoring up the fabrications, caulking any cracks or crevices lest a weakness be revealed. “I left her because you were there, a block away from discovering the guesthouse. She had gone to school and was used to my infrequent absences. I also trusted you not to kill her…” A lump formed in her throat, and she tried to wash it down with a long pull of beer. Leaving Chrystal had hurt more than any other decision she’d made, save one. “I knew you would take the time to talk to her, to learn her story, and find a reason to keep from killing her.”

Though he said nothing, he took the fish off the heat and set a piece each onto two plates, then added the vegetables. He covered the plates, then heated water in another saucepan.

“You don’t like to kill,” she reminded him. “You had enough blood on your hands from the war. It was why you left your pack. Even the worst of the Rogues you encountered, you gave them a chance…if they allowed you. You let your own Enforcers mate, and you’re not executing them. Fool everyone else about how dark and dangerous you are, but I know you. Once you spoke to Chrystal, you wouldn’t have lifted a finger against her. She was not the one at fault.”

“No,” he said, agreeing without emotion. “She wasn’t. And the rest?”

“Impossible man,” she growled, and he gave her another of those implacable looks. Finished with her ramen, she shoved the bowl away and picked up her beer. “She called me Dallas because it protected her from being associated with me. I couldn’t always be sure who might discover her. If it had been one of your other Enforcers, her innocence and the lack of maternal tie could buy her time until they checked with you.” From the moment he’d assumed control over the Enforcers, he’d ruled them with an iron will. He couldn’t be any other way. His ethics, his methods, and his need to protect overshadowed the old laws.

The power suited him. Did he ever realize how much?

“Hearing her call me mom would also have been a gift,” she admitted, because he wanted the truth. “A gift I didn’t deserve. Her life was not what I would have wished for my child.”

“So why not take her to Hudson River? Even if you didn’t want to stay, your cousin? His parents? Your parents would have taken her in. She could have grown up unafraid of her wolf and with a support system around her.”

“Because I’m a selfish bitch and I’d lost enough. I wouldn’t lose my child, too.”

“Yes, you’re a selfish bitch because you wouldn’t go with your daughter either.” The remark cut deep.

“You know why I wouldn’t go back.”

“Brett’s alpha now.”

“Now.” Did she have to remind him? “Now he is. Then? When Chrystal was born? My grandfather still ruled.”

“Then why not stay with Diesel’s pack, since he took you in?” Damn, the fact Diesel helped her continued to get under his skin. She could use it, but she wouldn’t. She’d done enough damage.

“I suppose because I didn’t want to wouldn’t work for you?”

He didn’t answer immediately; instead, he pulled out a sealed white package then poured the dried mashed potato flakes into the hot water. Stirring it with a wooden spoon he added a small amount of milk and butter. “No,” he relented. “Though I would believe it as your reason.”

“Well, I didn’t want to, and the longer I stayed, the more questions would be asked.” Diesel suspected the truth, of that she was certain. Though she had no idea of the why behind his continued silence on her behalf. He’d never asked her the question.

“Yet, Chrystal knows who her father is…”

“She knew her father died.” Dallas skirted the implied question.

After removing the covers from the plates, he spooned mashed potatoes onto them. To her surprise, he set one of the plates in front of her. “So, what doesn’t she know about her father?”

“That’s unimportant to the issue at hand,” she said, dismissing the question. “Carlo is dead and no longer a threat to anyone.” Especially Julian. “The current situation involves the Volchitsa.”

“They will still be there.” Apparently, he would not be so easily dissuaded. “Answer me about what else she doesn’t know?”

“You’ve spoken to her, and I know you questioned her. What did she know?”

“Not enough. Nor does she look anything like him.” He ventured so close to the edge of the truth, she was ready to go overboard. “So tell me, Dallas, what do I not know about her father?”

Neither of them were eating, and she couldn’t look away from the sharp intensity in his blue eyes. He knew. Or at least he thought he did. Sometime between when she left the bridge and when he dropped the anchor, he’d realized.

“Do you need me to tell you?” Deflecting had become her habit. It protected all of them. She’d protected Julian for years, no matter what he thought.

He set the beer bottle down. “Yes.”

“Carlo was never her father. There was never an opportunity for him to be so.” An odd trembling began to vibrate through her. Years of not even allowing the thought to even cross her mind—lies were easier to tell and easier to disguise when one refused to even acknowledge the truth.

Julian said nothing. His lips compressing into a hard line.

“You are her father. Chrystal is yours.” Every syllable came at a cost. She braced herself. Years before she’d rehearsed a similar speech, she’d weighed all the possibilities—save one.

“Say that again.” He set his beer down, and both his hands were flat against the counter.

“I was pregnant when I left.” The years since that fateful day didn’t diminish the war she waged within herself before she walked away.

Anger. Rage. Hate. All emotions she expected, all reactions she was prepared to deal with…but she wasn’t prepared for the pain in his eyes.

“Why?”

No answer would ever be enough. So she went for the bald truth. “Because I’m a selfish bitch who decided to fix everything for everyone.”

“That’s not good enough.” He hadn’t moved. “You don’t get to make some pithy self-involved remark, Dallas. Why keep her a secret from me?”

“Because you were the Chief Enforcer, and you held the law above everything. I was already your secret, one you could barely afford anyone to know. You never let any other Lone Wolves stay in my region, cleared whole towns if I decided I wanted to go there…built a house in the middle of nowhere Oregon where we could meet for days at a time without any fear of being observed.” It had taken her years to put all the pieces together. Julian kept her hidden, even when she thought she had her independence.

“No.” He slammed his hand against the counter and the plates leapt. The one nearest him cracked in half.

“Yes…you were chosen to be Chief Enforcer, handpicked by the man you served, and you thrilled to the challenge. To the change you could make. To the lives you could change. You had plans.”

“So what?” Growling, he stalked around the counter. Dallas shoved away the plate and the bottle. “Plans change. Those are excuses…why did you hide the fact that I was the father? Why did you take my child away? Why did you let me kill a man, knowing he was innocent of the crime?”

“That last one’s not on me. I wasn’t there when you found Carlo…and Carlo was an idiotic romantic who thought he was protecting me from something else.” She shook her head. “I never in a million years thought you would kill him.” Not when he hated senseless death.

“He took you from me. What did you think I would do?” Stark possession in his tone glided over her even as his hand closed over her throat. Pain, deep and primal gleamed in his eyes. “He took you, and he taunted me…he kept you from me and you were carrying his child.”

Dallas swallowed. “I didn’t know he said anything to you…not until the word reached me later.”

“You didn’t change the story though, did you? No, you kept running and you took our child with you. I issued orders to every Enforcer that you were never to be harmed. If they caught your scent, they were to contact me. If they could contain you, fine, but they were not to hurt you.”

He’d still been protecting her, and it was her turn to jerk with surprise.

“I protected a thief and a liar…and you stole from me.” The hand on her throat fell away. “My own child was terrified when she met me. She was so frightened she threw up.”

Reaching out, she tried to touch his arm, but he slapped her hand away. The blow stung, but nowhere near as much as the chill in his arctic gaze.

“You’re not even sorry, are you?”

That she’d made a call? That she’d done what she believed to be right? “No.” Why muddy it with more explanations? “I could tell you I did what I thought was best. But that doesn’t really matter anymore.”

Nodding slowly, he picked up his beer and walked from the kitchen toward the open deck. “You were right about leaving your pack, Dallas. You’re too damn selfish to have ever been alpha.”

It was like a door closed as he stepped out into the waning sunshine, and she sank back against the stool. The trembling in her body wouldn’t cease. Clasping her shaking hands together, she sucked in a breath. Julian stood at the far end of the boat, staring over the water.

Whatever lingering affections had still existed between them just died—a victim of her hubris and the circumstances of life. Forcing her hands to unclasp, she picked up her beer then drained it.

She’d made the best decision she could at the time—at least, she thought she had. Needed to believe it. The beer didn’t touch an ounce of the shame and discontent swirling within her.

Pushing away from the stool, she went through the kitchen until she found the liquor cabinet. After she pulled out a bottle of whiskey, she opened it and walked out to the deck.

Julian didn’t look in her direction, but when she held the bottle out to him, he took it and swallowed a long pull before handing it back. Taking her own drink, she sat on the edge of a deckchair. The breeze was chilly, but the deck boards were still warm from the earlier sun.

“I won’t make excuses,” she said, balancing the bottle against her knee. “But you still need the rest of the story…with regard to why I left Chrystal in the days before you found her.”

Saying nothing, he held out his hand, and she passed him the whiskey. He took a long drink, then returned it to her.

The absence of a response hurt more than if he’d yelled. Shoving her wounded feelings aside, she plowed ahead. His pain seemed etched into every rigid muscle of his beautiful back. The wind tousled his platinum hair, the fading red-gold of the sun adding fire to his ice.

“Whenever I suspected an Enforcer or Lone Wolf got too close to us, I made myself scarce. It was easier as Chrystal got older. She didn’t respond like other wolves. I thought she was submissive for years, and that was the reason for her timidity.” If only she’d understood Omegas better in the beginning. By the time she realized, Chrystal had already begun to reflect her. “Staying away also kept her more settled, allowed her to pursue a regular schedule…I made a point of guesthouses on larger estates, places she would have security and privacy.”

The whiskey heated her belly when she swallowed past the lump in her throat. Julian refused to look at her, so she plowed onward.

“I’d also started creating fake IDs and papers, mostly licenses for ambitious kids. It was an easier way to make money when I couldn’t risk a more permanent job. Sometimes the work took me overseas or south of the border. I ran afoul of a British wolf. We met once in Mexico, he wanted me to create an American passport for him. He wanted to be able to enter the country without issue, but he wasn’t one of the packs, and I declined the job. He spent a couple of days trying to convince me, then trying to seduce me. When I wasn’t persuaded, a couple of his wolves tried to roust me. They wanted me to do the job or die.”

Still, he said nothing.

“I got away, took out his guys while I was at it then came north. I stayed away from Chrystal, watching over her from a distance. I wouldn’t lead that trouble back to her.”

“Magnanimous of you.”

“I doubt he’s the first client I pissed off, but as far as I know, he’s the only one who tried to kill me. After you took Chrystal under your wing, I kept going. She was safe with you, and I led the wolf at her door away.”

“He wasn’t at her door. He was at yours.”

“Fine, he was at mine. I headed to Russia not long afterward. What the hell was a British wolf going to do to me there?”

“Did this wolf have a name?”

“Why? Planning on killing him for me?”

“No,” Julian said without an ounce of humor. “I thought I’d have you delivered with a bow on top. But that would hurt my daughter…so, what’s his fucking name?”

“Montague—something…”

Julian turned. “Montague?”

“Yeah, his last name was something not British, so it sounded weird when he introduced himself with his accent…Aron…Ark…”

“Arkady.” The Chief Enforcer’s eyes narrowed. “You’re certain his first name was Montague?”

“Yeah…why?” The abrupt switch in his attention and tone kept her off guard.

“That’s who the Volchitsa are working for…so, tell me again how you’re not involved with them?”

Decades earlier…

“Can I take this thing off my eyes now?” Indulging Julian’s desire to surprise her meant allowing him to blindfold her. Her nose told her they’d followed the coast for a while, but he’d turned inland. The sun had moved from her right to overhead, suggesting they still angled north. Outside the vehicle, the scents changed, too.

Salt, sand, and citrus gave way to the taste that combined sun-warmed pears, the flesh of apples, and a slice of a barely-ripe honeydew melon. The sweet aroma wasn’t cloying, and reminded her of violets, fleeting and tickling her nostrils.

“No,” he said, his voice so full of indulgence, she wanted to take a peek at him. The months since they’d become lovers had been filled with new experiences and playful encounters. They learned how to surf, though she maintained he’d done it before and wasn’t merely a natural as he asserted.

For three months, they’d followed the surf along the coast, even going as far as Baja to catch some waves. In turn, she’d taken him to concerts in the park and festivals populated with hippies and reeking of dope—his words, not hers—but he’d indulged her.

“You’re killing me,” she whined, but let her head rest against the seat. Sometimes she only got to see him once a month, and other times he managed to drop in weekly. Autumn turned out to be a busier travel time for him, and winter carried the risk of him being snowed in.

While he roamed, she dug into her life. She took a couple of classes, went to some protests for the Vietnam War—all of two, because Julian’s reaction had been so negative. Dislike the war all you want. Do not attack the men who have to fight it. She hadn’t believed they were, but so many in the movement didn’t distinguish between the two, so she volunteered at a community health center which provided vet assistance.

He never asked her to change, but she appreciated his perspective. They didn’t talk about his work. When he stayed with her, it was only ever for two nights at most, then he was gone again. She concentrated on building a life and living free of restrictions. The job at the diner gave way to a shop in the mall. She’d hated it and returned to the diner.

Weird, but she loved her regulars and the tourists. They came from all over the world to play on the beach, walk on the boardwalk, and visit the amusement park. They always had stories to tell. Cruise ships were the next big thing. More were being built every day, and she flirted with the idea of getting a job aboard one and riding the tide to see the world.

Not that she’d brought it up to Julian yet. He managed to keep his possessive tendencies in check. If she had a question or wanted his advice, he offered it in spades.

“Patience,” he said, reminding her. “We have four days. I want to make them count.”

Unable to resist teasing him, she said, “As long as it doesn’t take us four days to get there.”

The warmth of his hand settled on her thigh. “Tell me where we are.”

“Can we not have five minutes of fun without a test?” She groaned, and banged her head against the seat.

“We had forty-five minutes of fun this morning. Would you like a test over that material?” Dry wit seemed to be his forte, but her body quivered at the reminder. He’d arrived while she’d been asleep, and he’d woken her leisurely with nuzzling kisses and long sensuous strokes. Anticipation curled in her tummy, and she covered his hand on her thigh.

“I’m up for a test anytime.”

He squeezed her thigh. “Now, tell me where we are.”

Why did everything have to include a lesson of some kind? He might be older than her, and more experienced, but she didn’t need the reminder with teaching moments. “We’ve been driving north and slightly east for two hours. We left the PCH behind, and we’re somewhere in wine country, I’d guess from the changing scents.”

“Not bad.” Julian caressed the inside of her thigh with his thumb. “Beyond the wine country scents, what do you hear?”

“Your heart beat. It’s steady and soothing. The engine—it’s got a piston firing wrong or maybe a little clogged. We should check that so we don’t have engine trouble.” Keeping her eyes closed behind the blindfold, she checked the number of cars on the road with them. “There is a truck ahead of us. I can tell by the exhaust of diesel fuel, and there are a large number of tires moving in tandem. There’s a car behind us…American-made…I can hear it in the engine, and I’m pretty sure there’s a third vehicle, but the truck seems to be masking it.”

“Good. It’s ahead of the 18-wheeler, but he’s there.”

A whoosh of air and a gentle rock vibrated through their car. “We’re on a two lane highway…that was a fourth car passing us.”

“Excellent. Elevation?”

Shock rippled through her. “Are you serious?”

He squeezed her thigh. “Stop delaying.”

What elevation? “We’re higher than sea level.” How did one tell the elevation without seeing it?

“Nice guess. Now, tell me how you recognize the elevation.” The man was absolutely relentless.

Testing the air, she turned the idea over in her head. Deep breaths gave her the taste of the fruit and fuel exhaust she’d already identified. No salt air—the lack of ocean scents didn’t betray elevation. Locating the crank, she opened the window wide until the wind tangled with her hair.

“Cooler air.” They’d kept the windows closed, and the sun warmed the interior of the vehicle, but the passing wind outside was far cooler. “Higher elevations outside of cities have cooler temps.” Not always though, the wind off the Pacific could be downright frigid.

“Better. What else?”

Releasing his hand on her thigh, she flicked on the radio and turned the dial until The Seekers came on the radio.

“Dallas,” Julian growled, but she grinned.

“I’d like to teach the world to sing,” she sang along with the voices on the radio. Better to sing than to play the where was she game. Really, when was she going to need this kind of a skill?

When the song rolled over to Badfinger, and she started singing Day after Day, he conceded. Sliding her right hand out the window, she began wind surfing against the breeze, waving her hand to ride the lifts and down again.

Julian’s chuckle wrapped her in a cocoon of safe affection. When Robert John came on the radio, Julian stunned her by singing along, his deep baritone a perfect contrast to the high tenor. They gurgled and rolled their tongues, and when she began swaying to the music, Julian’s shoulder bumped hers and she could almost picture him bobbing along with her.

The next hour flew by as they sang their hearts out, and he angled more east than north. The air grew continually cooler and pine fragrance flirted on the wind.

“The Sierra Nevada,” she exclaimed, and Julian reached over and tugged the blindfold away. Outside the car, all she saw was nature at her wildest sprawling away from the road they were on. She didn’t recognize the region, but it was gorgeous.

“Nicely done,” he complimented her. When she glanced at him, he leaned over and dropped a kiss on her lips. “Four days, private cabin, and no one for miles. We can run and play as much as we like.”

Exhilaration soared through her. She’d complained the month before that the increase in tourists curbed her time on four legs. Her schedule didn’t help. David Gates and Bread began to sing Everything I Own. Capturing her hand, Julian set it on his thigh and began to serenade her. Her heart flip-flopped when he sang, “I’d give everything I own, my heart, my life, my home…”

Crazy man.

She hoped he never changed.