Chapter 33

Squatch.

Downtown Wilmington is mostly three-story buildings without space between, lining the streets.

The President of the Wilmington chapter had us drive our rental car to a bar down the street from the one they own. We went into that bar, had a drink while we made sure no one had followed us, and then walked to the Club Bar and Grill just down the street. We were ushered into the back, down some steps, through a tunnel, up some steps, down a hall, and into a studio apartment. I handed the rental car’s keys to the VP, and he parked it in a paid lot near a high-dollar hotel. Because we were staying under the radar, only the Pres, VP, and Sergeant-at-Arms knew we were here. I wanted to introduce Kitty to my Wilmington brothers, but it was best we lay low.

The chapter owned this apartment building, and we were in an empty unit. No one would see us here.

Neither of us had brought our phones, but I had a burner with our app on it. I contacted Mad Dog and updated him, and then undressed my kitten.

“I need a shower.” She was physically and emotionally exhausted, but she hadn’t let it show until we were behind closed doors.

“We both do. It isn’t that big, so you first.”

She was asleep when I got out of the shower, and I managed to get into bed without disturbing her. I woke several times through the night, but Kitty slept like a log until just after noon the next day. She awoke starving, and I’d been told to call the VP when we needed food — they’d left a menu with his phone number as well as how to access him on the app. I used the app, just to be safe.

When I hung up, Kitty told me, “I can’t wear the same outfit I wore last night. What does one wear to an execution? It’s at a farm, so I’m assuming jeans and boots, but I may have to make do with my sandals, which means I’d rather wear something besides jeans, but not a pretty summer-dress.”

I closed my eyes and considered the logistics of taking her shopping, because her expression clearly told me I wasn’t going to convince her otherwise. She grabbed the phone and pulled up a map of the area surrounding the first bar we’d gone in, and I was pleased she’d been smart enough not to focus her search around the club’s bar. This gave her the same basic map, after all.

“There’s a vintage clothing store within a short walk,” she said. “No one knows we’re here. It should be safe.”

We stock guest rooms with sweatpants and t-shirts back home — common courtesy when you’re hosting shifters. I walked to the closet, opened it, and smiled when I saw shelves labeled by size and gender. I tossed her a pair of white sweatpants in extra-small and a pink t-shirt in size small, and she shook her head. “Let’s do a medium on the shirt today, so my boobs aren’t on display. We’re trying to blend in, not pop out.”

I looked at the boobs we were discussing and my cock stirred. She was probably right, so I tossed her a medium and refolded the small.

“You should change out the black shirt for a charcoal,” she said. “So we’re both in different colors than yesterday. Are those hats available for our use, too?”

I tossed her a khaki colored, floppy-brimmed hat, and looked through the available men’s shirts. She was right about my not wearing black, which left charcoal, navy, or white. A navy-colored baseball cap said DIVE INSTRUCTOR, so I grabbed it along with a navy t-shirt, and changed my mind about her shirt.

“Back to a small for you,” I told her. “We want them looking at the dive instructor’s girlfriend’s boobs, and not her face.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, okay. We can use your knife to cut the sweatpants into shorts, and I see a bunch of cheap flip-flops in the closet. Do they have a size seven?”

The vintage store did, indeed, have clothes Kitty deemed appropriate for attending and possibly assisting with an execution. She found a silky looking black stretchy miniskirt, and a black corset with a few strategically placed mesh panels so it would work even in a South Carolina summer. The corset wasn’t vintage, it was brand new and expensive, but I carry plenty of cash, especially when I’m out of town, so I bought it for her. Instead of promising to pay me back, which would’ve pissed me off, she pulled me down so she could reach my face and gave me a quick peck on the lips. “Thank you. You’ll lace me up before we leave, and it’ll be like your hands holding me all night, even if you aren’t right beside me.”

My heart actually skipped at her words. Never before had a woman touched me so deeply with her trust and her love. I wanted to scoop her up into a giant hug, but she was gone before I could, looking at necklaces and bracelets.

She’d worn deep tan faux boots — sandals with straps that go up the leg, giving the look of a boot but showing mostly skin — to the solstice celebration, and she said they’d work okay with the miniskirt. She’d worn a loose cotton linen dress the day before, and it struck me as odd that the same shoes worked for both outfits. I’d never have paid attention, except we were trying to make do, and it worked.

I let her drag me to the men’s section, where she chose a pair of black jeans and a heathered charcoal t-shirt in fabric so soft, even I noticed how luxurious it felt. I tried them on to be sure, but I was fine with both, so I added them to our stack and followed her back to the ladies’ section.

I didn’t say a word when she bought blue jean shorts for herself, along with two shirts — one that would show off her boobs and one that wouldn’t, though it’s damned hard to hide them. She also grabbed a pale blue shirt for me and a pair of jeans so faded they were nearly white, and I knew she was making plans in case we needed to go somewhere without being recognized. I added a well-worn backpack, and we headed to the register to check out.

* * * *

Kitty Squatch put our purchases into the backpack and tossed it over a shoulder before we left the store.

But that meant it was on his left shoulder, and I was on his left side, since he wanted his right hand free to go for his gun if he needed to. It didn’t work for me, but we didn’t have far to go, so instead of stopping and making a change, I told him, “We need to set the straps for me to wear the backpack next time.”

“If I wear it on my back, it won’t be a problem.”

“The sky is a beautiful color of blue, isn’t it?”

“We can’t go to the beach, Kitty.”

I laughed. “I know. I was just checking to see if you’d argue with everything I said, even something completely true and impossible to argue with.”

He sighed. “Yes, the sky is blue, and beautiful. We’ll call Brooke when we get back to the apartment and set things up with her.”

“No. I’ll contact her telepathically. She taught me how to reach her, even from a distance.”

He glanced down at me and looked forward again. “I thought you didn’t have any more secrets, Kitten.”

“I didn’t intentionally keep it a secret. It hasn’t come up.”

Brooke answered my knock on her psyche immediately.

Are you okay?

I’m fine. We’re just over the border in North Carolina, but we have a rental car. We can either meet you at the Myrtle Beach airport and ride to the farm with you, or we can drive to the farm.

Drive to the airport and turn your rental car in. My people will bring you to me. I’d rather we arrive at the farm together.

Are you already here?

No. I’ll ride to my plane in a lightproof box, and then I’ll go back in the box when we land so they can take me to a vampire-safe home. Can you give me an estimated time you’ll arrive at the Myrtle Beach airport? I can have someone waiting for you at the rental car desk.

It’s about an hour and a half away, but I assume you won’t be on the ground yet by then.

We’ll land around seven thirty, but I have people on the ground already. If they can get you at five, it’ll free them up to act as security for me when I arrive.

Then we’ll arrive as close to five as we can.

Are you touching your wolf?

I’m holding his hand.

Ask him to open up to me, and please make sure he knows I’m asking and not ordering.

“Brooke asks that you open yourself to her, and she specified that I tell you she’s asking and not ordering.”

He squeezed my hand and said, “Done.”

He says he is.

I know, I can feel him. Sasquatch, can you answer me?

I can. His telepathic voice came through even deeper than the one his vocal cords make, and the heat of it vibrated in my soul.

I’d like the two of you to drive to the Myrtle Beach airport and turn your car in. My people will pick you up. You won’t recognize the guards, but they will recognize you. Tell me a code word to have them use, and I will.

We’ll be in public, so have them tell me Patricia will be glad I’ve arrived safely.

I will. Take care of you and your cat. I’ve come to care for you both.

And then she was gone.

“Who’s Patricia?”

“An old lover.” He stopped, pulled me to him, and put his lips to my ear. “She doesn’t exist. That’s the point. Please don’t say the name again.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

He lowered his voice even more. “Contact her again and have her instruct them to tell us Patricia and Emmanuel will be glad we arrived safely.”

We started walking again, and I knocked to get Brooke’s attention once more.