What's a Witch to Do Part 7

He raises an eyebrow. "You can't?"

I give him the stink eye. Smiling, he sits back and starts hemming. "Wow. I am impressed," I say.

"Well, we werewolves rip a lot of clothes. If I didn't know how to do this, I'd be bankrupt. Also useful if you need a quick field suture."

"Need a lot of those? Field sutures?"

"Enough," he says with a half smile.

He has a nice smile. It melts years off his already youthful face. I wonder how old he is. Werewolves age slower than humans, so he could be anywhere from twenty-five to sixty-five. He hasn't changed much through the years, either. Never even changed his haircut from the short-on-the-sides-and-floppy-on-the-top style. I fold my arms across my chest. "You know, we've known each other for eighteen years, and I just realized the only thing I really know about you is that you can change a tire."

"You remember that?" he asks with genuine surprise.

"Of course. It was the nicest thing anyone's done for me in years."

"Really? That's sad."

"It is what it is. So how old are you?"

"I'll be forty-three next week," he says, still sewing.

"Happy early birthday," I say.

"Thanks."

"Do you have a job? A career besides being Jason's Beta?"

"Me and some of the other wolves have a general contracting business we run. I didn't do so hot in school, didn't even graduate high school with the dyslexia, but I found something to suit me." He holds up the skirt. "I'm very useful with my hands."

"Obviously," I say with a smirk. "The girls must love you."

His smile wavers a little. "I do alright."

"Ever been married?"

"Haven't even come close."

"Hard to believe. Good-looking guy like you, handy around the house." Great b.u.t.t doesn't hurt either.

"Next subject, please," he says.

"What, some girl break your heart?" I ask with a fake pout.

He looks me square in the eyes. "Next. Subject."

Touchy. "Okay, favorite food?"

"Veal Parmesan. You?"

"Blackberry pie. Favorite color?"

"Green."

"Purple. Favorite TV show?"

"Anything football. Especially when the Ravens play. A bomb could go off, and I wouldn't move from the TV. Yours?"

"We're watching it. Were you born a werewolf?"

"Yep. My grandfather was Alpha before Frank Dahl. I took over Beta duty under Jason when Frank was murdered."

"I remember that. I'm so sorry." A few years ago some nasty werewolves tried to take over the Eastern Pack and killed a lot of wolves, including the Alpha Frank Dahl. Jason stopped them and became Alpha. "What about siblings?"

"I had a brother, but ... he was killed then too," he says with a hint of regret. "Mother as well, if that's your next question. Dad died of cancer years before that. He was human."

Great, I feel like c.r.a.p now. He's here to help me and I'm dredging up the most painful time of his life. "Sorry. My parents are dead too, and one sister might as well be. Or if she shows her face around here again, she soon will be." He smiles at my last statement. "And I'm sorry about earlier with Sophie. She's-"

"Scared," he finishes. "I didn't take it personally. Besides, I'm used to surly people. Us werewolves are notorious for it. Jason especially, but you know that already."

"Yeah, he is not my favorite person at the moment. He was really worried about you though."

"I know," he says with uneasiness.

"Do you like working for him?"

"He's been my friend for over thirty years. I'd die for him in an instant. The pack is my life."

I know how that is. "Then why-" My psychic security system goes off inside my head like a buzzing bee. Three times. Three people cross it. "Someone's outside."

The knock on the front door jolts us both. Adam and I exchange a worried glance before standing up. As he quietly pads to the door, I peek out the front window. There's a familiar SUV with "Top Dog Construction" written on the side. It takes me a second to place it. "Of course," I mutter.

"Who is it?" Adam mouths.

"Coming, Jason," I call as I walk toward the door.

All the color drains out of Adam's face. I gesture for him to go into the kitchen, and he does. I move to the front door. You can do this. Taking a deep breath, I open it. Jason Dahl and two other imposing werewolves stand on my porch with matching scowls. The Alpha glares down at me with stone cold ice blue eyes like a husky. He'd be a decent-looking guy if he ever smiled. Six foot four, overly muscular, with sandy blonde hair, hawk-like nose, and sharp cheekbones. It isn't just his physicality that puts a person on edge. The air around him grows a little stiller when he's there. The only people I've seen him smile at are his wife and kids, otherwise he's expressionless or sporting this scowl. Quite honestly he scares the s.h.i.+t out of me. And now he's p.i.s.sed off. At me. Gulp.

"Jason. This is unexpected," I say with a smile.

"I need to speak with Adam. Right now."

"Adam? He's not-"

"Stop it," Jason says, voice booming. "The vampire didn't cover your lie. I know he's here. I can smell him."

I cross my arms. "I don't appreciate your-"

"It's okay, Mona," Adam says behind me. I spin around as he walks toward us.

"Aunt Mona?" Sophie asks she walks onto the landing above.

"It's okay, Soph. Go back to bed." Her eyes narrow at the wolves before obeying.

The men exchange a guilty look. "Let's not do this here, okay?" Adam says.

"Agreed," Jason says.

Adam steps onto the porch. "Give me a minute?" Adam asks Jason.

The surly werewolf eyes me, then says, "Fine. We'll wait in the car." He nods at me. "Mona."

I nod back. "Your Alphaness." Jason's glare grows stronger, but he walks toward the SUV with his flunkies. "So much for the cooperation part of the co-op," I say to Adam.

"He's just angry right now. I'll talk to him."

"What about you? Will you be okay? He won't hurt you, will he?"

"I'll be fine," Adam says. "Sorry about this whole mess."

"Stop apologizing for everything. You tried to help when everyone else wouldn't. It means more to me than I can say. Thank you."

Now, I'm not the touchy feely type, but I follow my instinct and move toward him, putting my arms around him. He did endure physical torture, not to mention the mental torture of Sunday Supper, for me; I think he deserves a hug for that. He stiffens at first, but after a second he embraces me back. I kiss his cheek and pull away, but he doesn't let me go for a few moments. "Um, Adam?"

My voice breaks whatever spell he's under. "Sorry," he mutters, stepping away. "I better go. They're waiting. Um, bye." The man practically sprints off the porch toward his friends. Jason, who has been watching the whole exchange through the car window, gazes at me, hard face almost sad. Didn't know he was capable of that emotion. Weird. Adam jumps into the car, and it speeds off before the door's even closed.

And that's it. I'm completely on my own now. I should be used to it, years of practice and all, but ... Tears spring into my eyes, and I push them away. Crying never does a lick of good. You are solid steel, High Priestess. Indestructible. "It's okay," I whisper to myself. "It'll all be okay."

Yeah, not even I believe it anymore. I shut my front door.

Clean the Captain I lull the girls back to sleep after evading their million questions with plat.i.tudes that sound hollow even to me. There's no real way to make, "We're screwed," sound good. When they're down, I want nothing more than to join them. Just one last thing to do, and now that Adam is gone, I can do it. It takes some coaxing, and a tin of tuna, but the Captain crawls out of the fireplace. He puts up little protest, mostly due to the tuna, as I carry him into the kitchen and use a wet towel to wipe the soot off him. I kiss the top of his head. "You won't abandon me, will you, Captain Wentworth?" He purrs, which I take to mean no. I almost start weeping but once again stop myself.

A few deep breaths, a few seconds of digging my nails into my palms do the trick. I don't cry. I am tough, I am capable, I am ...

scared s.h.i.+tless. At least with a werewolf on the team, I had a fighting chance. Someone to guard the girls when I couldn't be around. Someone who faced killers before and came out alive. d.a.m.n Jason. d.a.m.n them all. I'd be there for them if they needed it. h.e.l.l, I have. Recently even. And Adam ... d.a.m.n him for giving me false hope. Okay, that one's not on him. He had to go back, I know that and I don't fault him for it. A relative stranger or his family, no choice there. No, I raised my own hopes, and I know better. After thirty-five years, I should know at the end of the day I can't really rely on anyone but myself. I'm just an idiot who-

The magic security system alerts me that a person has crossed the perimeter. The Captain lifts his head and hisses before jumping off the counter and barreling toward the living room again. Oh h.e.l.l. A second later, the doorbell rings. It's been a little over an hour since the wolves left, but I'm still on edge. For the first time ever, I don't feel safe in my own home. At least the girls don't wake up this time. "Who is it?" I ask when I reach the door.

"Adam."

For some reason it feels as if a thousand pounds lifts when I hear his deep voice. A smile stretches across my face as I swing the door open. He does not share my joy. He plods in, head hung as if he's been through the Spanish Inquisition. "You're back," I say, my smile wavering.

"Uh, yeah," he says, still not looking at me.

The SUV, with Jason sitting in the pa.s.senger seat glaring at me, drives off. Not thinking I'll be invited to the pack Christmas party this year. I shut the door and turn back to Adam, who is halfway up the stairs already. "What happened?"

He stops the climb but doesn't face me. "I can be, uh, very per-

suasive."

"But he-"

"I don't want to talk about it right now, okay?" he snaps.

"Sure. No problem." He nods and continues up the stairs like a sad puppy. I suddenly feel like a total piece of c.r.a.p. G.o.ddess knows what that b.a.s.t.a.r.d said or did to him because of me. "Adam?" He turns around at the landing and glances down at me. "Whatever happened ... thank you. For coming back."

He nods. "Welcome." He starts walking again, but then turns around. His brow furrows as he says, "We have, uh, until Sat.u.r.day night."

"To find out who wants to kill me? What happens Sat.u.r.day night?"

He doesn't answer. "Goodnight, Mona." And he walks away.

MONDAY TO DO:.

Find out who wants to kill me Hem that d.a.m.n skirt Go to work E-mail spell for cla.s.s Founders' Day meeting Teach cla.s.s Grocery shopping Stay alive THE ALARM BUZZES AT seven, and I smash the clock with my fist. I groan and pull the covers back over my head. I don't want to get out of this bed. Ever. In here n.o.body wants to kill me, I have no endless To Do list, and I can ignore ominous statements uttered by werewolves. I succeeded in pus.h.i.+ng all bad thoughts away last night as I fell asleep, but they've returned to torture me in the light of day.

I won't let them. There's no time. Gotta get the girls off to school. I toss the covers off, grab my robe (seeing as we have a gentleman in the house), run a comb though my hair, and brush my teeth. I debate slapping on makeup but realize there isn't time. Those girls are slugs on school days. When I leave my bedroom, I notice the other two bedroom doors are open. Adam's room is a mess with the bed unmade and clothes on the floor. The girls aren't in their room either.

I find the threesome in the kitchen, the model of domesticity. Adam stands at the stove making eggs as the girls sit at the table sipping orange juice and watching Dora the Explorer on the tiny television on the counter. Okay, I'm momentarily stunned. This is just so ... nice. "Morning all."

They glance at me, Adam saluting me with the spatula and the girls smiling. "Aunt Mona! Adam came back!" Cora says, grinning from cheek to cheek. "He's making breakfast!"

"I can see that," I say as I step in.

"Just scrambled eggs," Adam says as if it's nothing. n.o.body's made me breakfast since Granny died.