“What about your wolves?”
“They’re not mine, I’m not their Alpha. They’re Lone Wolves, they can decide for themselves.”
“And you?” Lucas’s mismatched gaze bore into him. “Would you help us out?”
Build their trust. Let them think you’re allies. Do what it takes. I’ll take care of the rest. And then when there’s an opening, we’ll destroy Grant Anderson. He huffed. “I suppose.”
“Great,” Lucas held his hand out. “On behalf of my clan, thank you.”
Don’t thank me yet. But he shook the Alpha’s hand anyway.
“Why don’t you stay for a couple of days, and we can talk some more. You can also see what we’re doing here and how we can include you in our plans. I’ll take care of whatever you need.” Lucas stood up. “I need to get back home, but Cross knows what to do. If you’d like to stay and have more food, please help yourself.”
Ransom stood up too. “No, I think I’d rather get on with it.” He looked at Cross. “Can I hitch a ride back to Kentucky?” If he was going to stay in New York, he would need a couple of things.
“Of course.” Cross got up as well and held out his hand. “As you said, we should get on with it.”
There were certainly a lot of advantages to having someone like Cross around. In a couple of hours, Ransom had taken two trips to Kentucky and back to New York. He had a few things to settle back at home, including letting Silke and the other Savage Wolves know about Lucas’s proposal. Silke, of course, agreed to turn the property into a sanctuary if necessary. As for the rest of his guys, Ransom left it up to them if they wanted to volunteer to fight if things got tough.
“This is a decision you each have to make yourself, as Lone Wolf, not as a member of the MC,” he had told them. “And I’ll respect whatever you decide.”
After that, Ransom packed up a few things he needed while he stayed in New York, including his bike, which Cross was happy to transport. It was after midnight by the time Cross left to go home, and although he knew he should probably hit the hay, he wasn’t tired. That, and there was a niggling itch in his chest that wouldn’t go away. And he knew there was only one way to scratch that itch, so he got on his bike and made his way to Lower Manhattan.
He arrived outside Muccino’s just as the lights in the dining room turned off, which hopefully meant Isabelle hadn’t left yet, if she was working here. Frankly, he was still confused why she was working at all. When he saw her last, she didn’t seem to have a job as she spent most of her time shopping, getting dressed and made up, or playing with her phone. She was a billionaire’s daughter, for God’s sake. If she wanted to work, surely Grant Anderson could have found her a better gig elsewhere, working in an air-conditioned office with an assistant to pick up her morning lattes.
He saw a couple of employees leave through the front door, but not lock it. Good thing that asshole who had barged in on them was one of those employees. His wolf seethed at the thought of the human who had the balls to touch Isabelle like that. It wanted Ransom to follow him and rip his fucking hands off.
While it sounded like a very good idea, he tamped down the urge. That wasn’t why he was here. Of course, between getting revenge on her father, and now getting mixed up with all this mage business, things were bound to get messy, and he should really leave her alone.
But there was just something he couldn’t put his finger on … there was something there that wasn’t quite right. Like a mystery that he needed to solve. What had happened to her?
His questions were about to be answered because the front door opened and she came out. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she locked the door, gave it a test wiggle, then walked up to the edge of the sidewalk. She didn’t notice him crossing the street as she was busy tapping on the screen of her phone.
“Do you need a ride home?”
Her shoulders tensed, and slowly, she looked up, her mismatched eyes going wide and her lips parting. It took her a second to compose herself as her mouth snapped shut. “No thank you,” she said tightly. “I’ve called an Uber.”
“You always loved riding.” Her eyes flashed with outrage as she figured out his double-meaning, but he cocked his head back toward his parked motorcycle. “On my bike,” he finished with a grin.
Her face went all red. “I’m not dressed for riding,” she pointed out, glancing down at her skirt.
“That never stopped you before.”
She let out an indignant sound as her hands fisted at her sides. “Look, I spoke with Lucas after you left, and he told me who you were and what you’re doing here. While my clan and I appreciate what you’ve done for us, I don’t know what you expect me to say or do right now.”
The direct approach was not something he expected, so he decided to do the same. “What happened to you, Isabelle? Why are you working here?”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Am I not allowed to have a job? Everyone has one.”
“You didn’t before,” he pointed out. “Back then, you seemed pretty content at spending your trust fund. Fenrir Corporation ain’t hurting, so I know this isn’t about money. Now, tell me what happened.” He frowned. “Why lower yourself and take a menial job like hostessing?”
If it were possible, she looked even angrier. “You have no right …” She took a deep breath. “My ride’s here,” she stated, then sidestepped around
