Chapter 90 Chapter~90~Reeping what you sow.

Chapter 90 Chapter~90~Reeping what you sow.
Ian~

Where is Toby? Even worse than being ignored is knowing that without my wolf, ain't shit I can do about it. With a string of curses, I cross the room in two strides; the cellarette doesn't stand a chance as I punch the glass door.

Blood runs down my hand, and I shake it off before grabbing the bottle of brandy. The fact that I had to call him on his cell rather than use the Pack mind link should have been a clue that something was amiss.

The brandy goes down smooth, and my pacing resumes. 'Colt, you son-of-bitch, you'd better heal me!' Nothing!

My eyes locked on opening the door. "Where the hell have you been?!"

Toby shrugged his shoulders. "I was tying up some loose ends. What's got you so wound up?"

The urge to smack him upside the head is strong, but it's a safer path to round my desk and flop down in my chair instead. My hand goes up to rub my aching temple.

"Lycan, you're bleeding."

"You think I don't fucking know?" After getting a handkerchief from my desk drawer, I slammed it shut.

"Why are you bleeding? Colt pissed at you again?"

"It's different this time. Toby, I can't shift, nor hear, smell, or communicate as a werewolf. Why do you think I called your phone?"

He takes his seat in front of my desk and leans over, "Lycan, this could be bad."

"No shit, Toby! A specialist is coming to town this afternoon. You must keep Luccese off my back."

Mention the wolf, and you'll get the teeth; the office door flies open. My hand goes under the desk as Leonard strolls in like he owns the place. He glared at me with bloodshot eyes and a heaving chest as he slammed a newspaper onto my desktop.

The headline reads: 'LA stalker found dead in the Santa Monica mountains.' "What does that have to do with me, Luccese?"

"Keep reading!"

Next line: 'FBI Agent Nicholas Reins is a suspect in the murder.' "Your bounty hunter was there because you sent him. The only thing I can't figure out is why."

With a dismissive wave, I sat back in my chair. "Reins isn't my bounty hunter, and you don't think there is more than one Nicholas Reins?"

"Where you're involved, it'd be a big ass coincidence."

"Believe as you wish," I pointed to the article. "Now that the case is over, you can leave."

Luccese crumpled the paper in his hand. "I'll find out what you're hiding, Ian." He left my office, slamming the door so hard the sound echoed.

Toby stares at the door for a long moment, then at me. "What the hell, Lycan?"

"I'm going to find out," I pick up the desk phone and dial Reins. No answer, straight to voicemail.

After slamming the receiver back into the base, I get up and go into the half-bath, turn on the faucet, and stick my hand under the water, which turns red. "Don't let Luccese out of your sight until you hear from me."

"Where are you meeting this 'specialist'?"

The cold water has stopped the bleeding enough for me to see several jagged cuts on the back of my hand. "At a motel in Reno, I'll be back tonight."

Toby opens the office door, and I grab a jacket to conceal my bandaged hand. We step into the Pack house. He goes into the main den hunting Luccese, and I head for my garage.

I'm getting looks for having a leather jacket thrown over my shoulder in the 90+ degree heat. My demons of self-doubt sprout, telling me my Pack knows, and I pick up my pace.

Inside the garage, keys on the multi-hook rattle as I grab the set I'm looking for. Once inside my truck, the diesel comes to life, and according to maps, it's a 20-minute ride to the motel.

I've got eyes on my rearview for about five miles in, and tried Nick again and got the same result. "Son-of-a-bitch," the car swerves as I hit the wheel.

The lump forming in my throat says there's every chance Luccese is right. However, Nick is officially tomorrow's problem when the classic GPS voice tells me to take the next exit. I'm dripping sweat as I merge off the highway and roll both front windows down.

Air thrummed through the cab, giving my senses some relief from the empty silence as I followed the exit ramp to the traffic light. On the green, I take a left and hear, "Your destination is on the left."

Room 444 is where I find the self-proclaimed 'Wolf doctor' himself, aka Paul Wayne. Before I knock on the green door, he opens it; his bulging eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses look me up and down, and he hurried me inside.

My eyes focus on the bed, where he has needles, test tubes, and what looks like an enema kit. Paul pulled another chair up, bending his lanky legs. and sat in front of me, balancing his laptop.

He wastes no time with pleasantries. "How long has it been since you felt your wolf, Lycan?"

"Almost a week."

"I see," he taps away on the keyboard. "And have you suffered any trauma that could have caused a regression of the beast?"

"No," I take a ragged breath, "he just left."

"That is unlikely, Lycan," he puts his laptop aside and gets to his feet. "Let's see what we're working with."

Paul straps a frigging spotlight to his forehead, flips it on, and stands over me. One at a time, he holds my eyes open until I'm pulling back. He turned again and picked through his supplies.

When he faces me, he's wearing a mask; in his hand, a slender vial. He snapped the tube and tried to insert it into my left nostril. Rancid fumes fill my lungs, causing me to grasp the arms of the chair and gag.

He snapped another tube and waved it around us before removing the mask and taking a deep breath. "The antidote scent worked!" He snapped his fingers in the air. "Lycan, I must test your senses."

"I'm not your guinea pig. If I had a wolf, he'd have killed you by now."

Paul pushed his black-rimmed glasses up on his too-white hair and placed his hands on his hips. "Ok, Lycan, there's just one more test, and I will need a blood sample first."

In desperate times, I roll up my right sleeve and supply him with two tubes. Paul sets them aside and pulls a stethoscope out of his lab coat pocket. "We're going to try some physical stimulation. Close your eyes."

I do, "Doctor, how is this going to help?"

For a scrawny ass, Paul's gotta heavy hand; his palm connects to the side of my face with a sound like a heavy, wet blanket hitting pavement! As he forces my head to meet my shoulder, he steps back. My eyes fly open as he's shaking it off, and I lunge for his throat, but the little shit is quick.

"Calm down, Lycan, it was only a test. Which shouldn't have failed." He turns and grabs another stink bomb from the bed, shaking it between his fingers. "This one is worse." His crooked, gaped-tooth smile sets my hair on edge.

My hand goes to my throbbing face as I sink back into the chair. Paul comes back, still holding the vial, and stands in front of me. "Lycan, your wolf is gone." He clasped his hands in front of him as if his research had uncovered a great mystery.

"You don't say, so now what?"

"It will take a couple of days for me to run the tests; I'll be in touch."