Page 77 of The Tracker's Rage
“Hopefully.” She didn’t sound convinced, and I didn’t feel too confident about it either. We had put Aaron through a very painful situation. It was unlikely that he would take a risk by sending any of his close friends our way.
We set to work, getting ready for the new customer’s arrival later that afternoon. When he arrived, we talked in my office. He was in his mid-thirties and had gone through an ugly divorce a couple of years ago. He wished to start a family and wasn’t willing to take that leap with just anyone. This time, he wanted to make sure he found someone compatible who shared his views and family values. His parents had divorced when he was little, and he didn’t want to put his own children through that.
He sounded like a great guy, just the kind of person I liked to help. He did most of the talking while I listened, and in the end, he didn’t take much convincing to get on board and sign our contract. He was just ready to begin a new stage in his life. I breathed more at ease after he left, knowing that we would be able to pay our bills if I found him a mate.
At the end of the day, I followed Rosalina to her condo and packed a few boxes in the trunk of my Camaro. I made sure to get all my bathroom necessities and some clothes, which was what I’d been missing the most. I’d hoped to hang out with her for a bit, but she said she had somewhere to be and sent me on my way.
She’d really been busy lately, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I had cramped her style all those times I’d stayed with her. Maybe she spent a lot more time with her family than I’d realized. Maybe she had a secret life of wild parties or as a scrapbooking aficionado. Who knew?
I headed home, my head spinning with a million thoughts. I tried not to worry about the agency, reassuring myself that we were back on track with this new customer. I told myself to be patient and that tomorrow the rhabo cure would be ready and Josh would be all right.
I also reasoned that this whole hybrid situation was not my responsibility. I was just a tracker, recently turned werewolf, who had gotten pulled into an impossible shitstorm. The best I could do was stay out of it, and let the packs sort out their own mess. I had my own life to live, my own friends and family to worry about. I didn’t want bad things happening in my city, but I couldn’t carry the weight of such responsibility on my shoulders.
I was only one lone wolf, after all.
Finding some measure of comfort in my thoughts, I pulled into my parking space and shut off the engine. I exhaled a heavy sigh. I’d come up with a few convincing arguments to keep myself out of trouble, right?
Yep. You go, Toni! Keep it up and you might actually believe it.
Chuckling, I got out of the Camaro and popped the trunk open. I stacked two boxes on top of each other and headed toward the elevator. I was almost there when steps echoed behind me. As I started to glance back over my shoulder, the steps quickened.
My instincts flared, sensing a threat. I dropped the boxes and whirled around. Someone rammed into me, tackling me to the ground. I hit the pavement hard, my bones rattling. I blinked up at my attacker to discover it was Stephen Erickson.
He hopped on top of me, a fist pulled back. I raised my arms to cover my face, but he was too fast and, before I could protect myself, his fist slammed against the side of my face, and everything went black.
Chapter 28
Iawoke in stages.I was sitting, my head lolling. My temples pounded, and my jaw felt stiff and hurt like someone had hit it with a hammer. I opened my eyes, blinking at the dim, warm light that surrounded me. Flickering candles sat on top of what looked like a marble altar. A wooden crucifix with a life-sized Jesus hung upside down on the wall. Stained-glass windows with five-pointed pentagrams lined either side of the cross. A sturdy wooden lectern sat off to one side.
What the hell?!
I glanced around, wincing at the pain as I moved my neck.
Pews lined up to my right and left. I was in the middle aisle, my hands and legs tied to a chair. Clearly, I was in some sort of church, though not a traditional one.
The smell of burnt candles wafted through the air. I listened for any sounds but heard nothing. It seemed I was alone. I strained to see behind me where the exit must be, but I perceived only shadows.
