Taming Heather [Cariboo Lunewulf 1] (17 page)

He laughed and then lifted her off of the counter, his cock in no hurry to leave her warm haven. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and then nestled her cheek against his shoulder. Never had he been more relaxed with a woman.

Chapter Thirteen

It was mid-week before Heather saw Margot again. Entering the snack room in the basement of the newspaper, she spotted Margot sitting at one of the square tables. Margot looked up when Heather approached.

“Are you still mad at me?” Heather asked, glancing at Margot, and then Phyllis Bradley, one of their junior editors, who sat next to Margot while munching on a sandwich.

Phyllis looked at the two, raising her eyebrow curiously.

“I’m sorry that I got so upset the other night.” Margot waved at the chair for Heather to sit. “Your situation just took me a bit off-guard.”

“What are you talking about?” Phyllis leaned in, ready to hear the latest gossip.

“As you can see, I kept your secret.” Margot straightened, her expression sober.

She might have calmed down about Marc. But she obviously had serious issues about it. It wasn’t like Margot not to spread a good story. An uneasiness spread through her. Heather didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried.

She waved her hand in the air, then popped open her plastic container that held the salad that she’d bought for lunch.

“We just had a slight disagreement.” Heather smiled at Phyllis.

Margot nodded, reaching for Heather’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze. “I’m just looking out for your best interests.”

“Well, you two are no fun if you aren’t going to share secrets.” Phyllis laughed, and then stood up, collecting the wrappings from the food she’d bought out of the vending machines. “See you all at The Zone tonight?”

The Zone was the local bowling alley, and Heather had completely forgotten about it being Wednesday and their night out. Margot nodded, toasting Phyllis with her pint-sized milk container.

“I live for it,” she said.

Once Margot and Heather were alone at the table, Margot glanced around at the handful of tables in the windowless room. Heather swore there were days when she could be at the paper all day and never have a clue what it was like outside, or what was happening in the world. Pretty scary for a newspaper reporter.

She followed Margot’s gaze around the room and then looked at her friend’s dark brown eyes. Margot always wore eyeliner, which enhanced the darkness of her eyes and brought out her creamy white skin. She’d had three kids and still looked so slim in her blue jeans that she wore every day. Margot clasped her hands on the table, the large rock of her wedding ring glistening under the artificial light.

“Have you told anyone else about this?” she asked quietly.

Heather shook her head. Between work and seeing Marc, she hadn’t had time to talk to anyone about her personal life.

“Good. Keep it that way.” Once again Margot reached for Heather’s hand, holding it while she stared her in the eye. “Trust me, Heather. You have such a career ahead of you. All doors are open. Don’t fuck it up because you’re having a fling like this. Have your fun. Don’t get hurt. And keep your head about you.”

The wall clock clicked behind Heather, indicating the top of the hour. The hourly employees scooted back their chairs, gathering their trash. The room suddenly filled with noise, and Margot said her hasty goodbyes.

“See you tonight. You’re coming alone?” She didn’t wait for an answer but squeezed Heather’s shoulder and left her at the table with her salad.

Margot had forgiven her and all was back to normal in her small social life. But at what price?

Heather shoved her salad around with her fork, not even looking at it as she stared ahead and allowed what she’d just done to slowly sink in. A nasty knot twisted around in her stomach. And she wasn’t sure how to make it go away.

Without a bat of an eye, she’d allowed Margot to think she didn’t want anyone to know she was seeing Marc. She’d brushed the subject away in front of Phyllis without letting her know there was a new man in her life.

If he were human you would be bragging about him to everyone.

Suddenly she felt very sick to her stomach.

Marc had thought her shallow, out to use him and his pack to gain a name for herself. And she’d successfully convinced him that wasn’t true.

But just now, she’d denied him.

“I really am a bitch,” she mumbled, and then leaned back in her chair, knowing there was no way she could eat a thing now.

“There you are,” Joey said, making her jump when he hurried into the snack room. “I’ve been looking for you. Come on, we’ve got to go. The Community Building is on fire! Front page news! And we get to cover it. Let’s go.”

His voice echoed through the room as he gestured with his long skinny arms for her to get moving.

Heather tossed her uneaten salad in the trash, and grabbed her purse. “I’ll meet you out at the van.”

Her heart wasn’t in it. It was painfully pulsing in her chest, a mixture of self-pity and annoyance with her behavior making it hard to concentrate. But she had a job to do. Best to throw her energy into it, and figure out later how she was going to handle the knowledge that she was sincerely a shallow twit.

The Community Building was one of the oldest buildings in Prince George, a historical marker. It sat on the edge of downtown, and getting within a block’s distance of it at the moment was impossible.

Joey started snapping pictures the second they parked the
Tribune
’s van. Black smoke billowed into the otherwise crisp, clear, blue sky. Pushing through nervous onlookers, the air around her became harder and harder to breathe. A gray hue surrounded everything, stealing the beautiful afternoon and making it appear overcast.

A rope had been stretched halfway across the block, keeping people out while emergency vehicles surrounded the building, fire trucks, police cars, ambulances—all of their lights flashing, adding to the intensity of the scene.

Heather followed Joey, stepping over the rope as she clipped her reporter badge to her shirt. More than likely, it wouldn’t get them far. But sometimes the officers assigned to keep out the general public didn’t want to bother with them, or didn’t know to keep them out.

Enough experience on the job told her not to run around sticking microphones in anyone’s face. Her job was to observe, write down the facts, and later create an extraordinary article to inform the town how they’d lost one of their oldest buildings. She would get the facts once the emergency workers were through with their job.

“You know you aren’t supposed to be this close.” Chief of Police Milburn put his hand out to stop Heather from walking.

She gave him a grim look, having worked with him before, and knowing the man wouldn’t kick her out if she followed his rules.

“You still got men in there?” she asked, returning her attention to the still burning building while standing next to him. ”Are your guys helping the firemen?”

Fire trucks surrounded the structure, long sprays of water dousing what was left of the building.

“Yup. We got here first. And just one. Already sent two to the hospital.” Milburn pressed the mouthpiece to his mouth that he had attached to a phone on his belt. The wires fell down his shirt, and he said something that Heather didn’t catch. “I’m hoping we have just about everyone out of there,” he told her.

Someone shouted, grabbing the Chief’s attention, and he hurried forward. Others rushed toward the stairs as well as someone hurried out of the smoke, obviously carrying another person in their arms.

Joey hurried in front of her, snapping pictures as he went. When the officer who carried a man in his arms, got closer, Heather realized it was Marc.

All she could do was stand and watch him as he hurried down the stone stairs of the burning structure. People rushed around her, everyone talking, but her world came to a standstill.

Marc’s blond hair was darkened by ash. His face had black smudges all over it. His uniform was torn, stained with black smudges, and blood streaked down his arm.

Her heart constricted. He had been the one man still left in the burning building. And although he moved quickly, carrying the limp body in his arms to the nearby ambulance, he looked hurt as well.

Everything around her seemed to be a dark haze. All she saw was Marc. Hurrying toward him, she darted around the ambulance technicians and police officers.

“No reporters.” One of the technicians blocked her path to Marc with his hand.

Marc was laying the man down on the stretcher while the technicians hurried to get his vitals.

“But…I need to see him.” She couldn’t focus on anything other than how hurt Marc might be.

Someone was grabbing her arm. Heather turned, her mind unable to focus as Joey tried to drag her back. She fought him off.

“No. I’ve got to see if he’s okay.” She tore free of Joey and hurried to Marc before anyone could stop her. “God. You’re bleeding.”

Marc looked down at her, his expression so serious she couldn’t tell if he was fighting pain or not. “I’m fine,” he told her.

“You really should let me look at that,” one of the men with the ambulance said, nodding to Marc’s arm.

“I’ll have the pack doctor look at it.” Marc turned from the technician, looking toward the building.

“You are not going back in there.” She wanted to grab him, make sure that he didn’t. But she wasn’t sure where he was hurt. Blood had saturated through most of his shirt.

The heat from the fire and the smoke made Heather’s eyes burn. They watered and she told herself it was because of the fire, and not tears from fear that Marc was hurt a lot worse than he was letting on. She knew from her research that werewolves had a different metabolism than humans, that they healed at a much faster pace. More than likely he had a much higher threshold for pain.

None of that mattered to her a damn bit. All it meant was that he could be seriously hurt and no one would know because he could control the pain.

He turned to face her as Chief of Police Milburn walked up to them.

“I’m fine,” he told her quietly. “Focus on your job.”

She sucked in a breath. Damn it. Worrying about him would cause her to lose her front-page story. Since when had she ever allowed anything, or anyone to get in the way of her job?

Joey would kill her if they weren’t the main story in tomorrow morning’s paper. And her editor would have her neck if she didn’t come back with all the facts. She sucked in a deep breath and then almost choked on the smoke.

Marc’s arm was around her in an instant, leading her away from the fire.

“McAllister.” Milburn was on his ass. “What did you see in there?”

Marc stopped when they’d reached the end of the block and several police cars were parked sideways in the street, stopping traffic. He pushed Heather so that she leaned against the side of the hood.

“The place is completely destroyed.” Marc squinted and frowned when Joey snapped his picture.

Heather realized this was her perfect opportunity to get her story. “Do you know what started the fire?”

Milburn had his gaze fixed on Marc, but Heather didn’t look away from him. “From what I hear they are saying faulty wiring. But that’s unofficial.”

As much as she wanted to stay right by Marc’s side, be assured that he was okay, there was a job to do. She made a face at Marc’s torn and bloody uniform and ached to tell him to stay put, that she would be back shortly. But she knew he would do as he damn well pleased.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” she said, and then gave his hand a squeeze, a motion that the Chief of Police didn’t miss.

She turned to Joey. “We need to find the fire investigator. I need at least a cost estimate of damages, how many were hurt, if there were any fatalities. And do we have anyone from the city here?”

Marc grabbed her before she could leave. “You can find all that out later. I’m not allowing you closer to that building. Once it starts collapsing, it will be even more dangerous than it is now.”

Joey wrinkled his brow, cocking his head at Heather when Marc touched her. Well, if she’d denied him before, she was sure being public about him in front of the Chief of Police and her photographer.

Marc’s phone rang and he grabbed it, giving her a look that told her he meant business.

“I’ll get as many pictures as I can,” Joey offered, giving Marc an appraising look before squinting through the smoke toward the building. “Some phone calls later should help us fill in the blanks.”

Many times in the past she’d gathered her facts with a few quick calls. From just witnessing this event she knew she could write one hell of a story.

“Go get your pictures then. I’ll catch up with you in a couple of hours. I should have something written up by then.” Heather didn’t have to say anything more before Joey galloped off, not waiting to hear either officer tell him that he couldn’t go.

“Go clean yourself up.” Milburn turned to head back toward the fire. “You’re off-duty for now. Call me later.”

“Let me go with you.” Heather looked Marc over. “Can you drive?”