Page 143 of Marked

While I was in the shower, Nate had turned the television on, and some made-for-TV romance movie was playing.

I pointed at it with my plastic fork. “Is this one of thoseHallmarkmovies?” I asked with a smirk.

Nate shrugged. “I think she’s an accountant who’s moving up the ladder at her company in New York City, but she isn’t finding the fulfillment she wants and has gone back to her hometown for Christmas. That guy is her old boyfriend. He owns a woodworking shop and is trying to show her how great life in a small town can be.”

My mouth dropped open. “Are youintothis stuff? Are you a closet romance fan?” I said, a smile beginning to form on my lips.

“What?” Nate looked both abashed and guilty. “No. It was what was on, and I got sucked into it.”

“Uh-huh,” I said dubiously.

“Oh, whatever,” he said with a chuckle.

There was still tension, but the connection between us smoothed that out. After a while of eating and joking, it feltright. It felt like we’d always been doing stuff like this. I was sure Nate wasn’t really used to this sort of domesticity. Heck, I had very little practice with it. As strange as it was, it was really nice. It helped give the day a nice ending.

At one point, Nate put his hand on my knee, which sent waves of heat through my body. My inner wolf let out a little yip of happiness.

The room had grown dark as night fell, and the only light came from the TV. We were finishing up the fried pastriesthat reminded me of donuts when the movie switched to a commercial. A man with a somber expression looked into the camera and spoke.

“Have you or a friend been involved in an accident? We can help. Terence and Kenna Law Associates are happy to assist. Don’t let insurance companies strong-arm you into taking less than you deserve. We’re here to help you fight.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “I hate these guys. Freaking ambulance chasers.”

Nate wasn’t looking at the TV, though. Instead, he was eyeing a business card he’d pulled out of his pocket.

“What’s that?” I asked.

When Nate looked up at me, the intense fervor in his eyes almost made me flinch. He got up and yanked his phone out. “I need to make a call.”

Intrigued, I grabbed the remote and muted the television to listen in on what I hoped would be an interesting call.

“Hello?” a gruff voice said after a few rings.

“Hey, this is Nate Zane. Is this Mitch? We met earlier today in the bar? You offered me a job?” Nate’s voice had a hopeful lilt to it, as if he was urging the man to remember.

“Oh, yeah,” the guy said. “I remember. Have you decided to take the job? Like I said, I can pay pretty well.”

“I want some additional info before I decide,” Nate said. “You said your cousin has been missing for a while and that you’re part of a small pack on the fringes of the Toronto pack lands, correct?”

Nate gripped the phone so hard that his fingertips were turning white.

What is happening? I mouthed.

In answer, he shook his head and held up a finger for me to wait. I obeyed, but my curiosity was about to overflow. Nate was acting weird.

“That’s right,” the guy said.

Nate tapped the business card on his thigh with his free hand. “And can you tell me your cousin’s name? I may do some poking around for free before agreeing to take your money.”

“Oh, wow. That’s nice of you,” Mitch said. “Sure. His name is Lenny Nash.”

My jaw dropped, surprise and horror flooding my chest. Nate handed the business card to me.

Keeble and Jax Construction. Senior Project Manager Mitch Gagnon.

“Me and Lenny work together, you see,” Mitch went on. “He stopped showing up for work a few weeks back, and no one’s seen him since. I’m worried about him. It’s not like him.”

“Mitch,” Nate said. “I need to be honest with you. I already know what happened to your cousin.”

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