Page 26 of Touched By Moonlight
“Come work for me. Or one of the companies I helped start. I have connections and they could use someone with yourintelligence.”
Curiosity overcame me. “What companies? What do you do for a living? Invest inmotorcycles?”
He laughed, the sound smooth and dark. “No. Bikes are a hobby, and a necessity for speed when you want to get away from yourenemies.”
Grayson waved a hand. “I have a venture capital firm that invests in start-up companies. Our debut fund is nearly $75 million. We financially back companies I can foresee as financial successes, and give them the capital they need to operate for the first year. I’m a co-founder andinvestor.”
“Soundsrisky.”
“If you don’t know what you’re doing, it can be. But I have a little help from a witch friend who can predict business futures. When one of my start-ups is sold to the larger firms, like Google or eBay, that’s how I make the real money. Most of the work is done from my homeoffice.”
I blinked. It was hard to believe a wolf shifter knew that much about the human business world. Then again, what dealings I had with that world were on the lower rungs of the corporate ladder. Safer that way. Lessvisibility.
“So you don’t actually run any companies of yourown.”
“I am president of one I co-founded. CalmarthClothing.”
I sucked in a shocked breath. Calmarth Clothing was an online clothing store based out of Denver that sold clothes at a discount. Easy returns and they kept your size on file for reorders. They also had a division called Calmarth Delights that discreetly sold naughty sex toys and undergarments and sexy clothing to consumers. The secret was in the packaging label that looked ordinary, so if your nosey neighbors peered at what was delivered to your front door, they’d think you’d purchased nothing more innocuous than a pretty dress instead of crotchlesspanties.
What really set aside the company was the work environment. Hipsters wanted to work there. It was more hip than Google. They had flex hours, sleep pods where you could grab an afternoon nap, and most of all, they didn’t demand more than 30 hours during the work week. Telecommuting was encouraged. Tech had made showing up at the office pointless, not when everyone couldSkype.
It was a dreamcompany.
My dreams were more practical.Survival.
I rubbed my arms. “Can we leave? Because I feel pretty exposedhere.”
Henodded.
We took off again for the highway. When we reached Colorado and Belle Canyon Road we passed an abandoned campground off the two-lane highway. A sagging wood sign that clearly had seen better days read Happy TimesCampground.
Sad times, more like it. A shiver raced down my spine. The place seemed haunted andsinister.
Less than a half mile later, we arrived at a picnic spot shaded by tall trees. Nicolas and Stephan pulled in first, and the engines shut off. But for the river, it was quiet. No one on this road atnight.
Maybe the wolves kept it thatway.
“It’s a good place to stop before we arrive at my home,” Grayson told me. “We picnic heresometimes.”
Pulling off the helmet, I dragged in a deep breath of cold, crisp mountain air. The road dissected two mountain ranges, with a raging river running alongside the north. Although it was June, a hint of spring lingered in the air. Aspen, oak and fir trees dotted thelandscape.
Finally, I could relax and not worry about looking over my shoulder after that near-brush with death. Nicolas and Stephan stretched out beneath a tall maple tree. I joined them, sitting on the ground, drinking in the cool night air and the smell of freshpine.
Grayson sat beside me, holding my hand. It felt nice. No pressure, just simply holding my hand. “You okay?” he askedquietly.
“I am now.” I took a deep breath. “It’s lovely here. How far is yourhome?”
“It’s very close,” Stephan interjected. “But we figured you would want a break, especially if you’re not used toriding.”
“Thanks.” I appreciated thethoughtfulness.
“Nick, see anyone following us?” Graysonasked.
Nicolas shook his head. “All clear from the stateline.”
Raising my eyebrows, I sputtered. “Nick? You call himNick?”
Grayson looked at Nicolas and then at me. “I’ve always called himNick.”
