Ben took the opportunity to saunter over, slouching into the booth beside me in a mostly unassuming manner. He directed his gaze toward Becky instead of at her.
“We good here?” he said.
“Are you two going to pay a little more attention to the pack? If you don’t want guys like Darren waltzing in here and playing games, you have to actually be here.”
“Yeah. We’ll talk.”
We flagged the server for another round of coffee. And we talked.
Chapter 16
ON SUNDAY, my mother called, as she always did, to ask how things were going, was I doing okay, so on and so forth. As usual, I couldn’t give details, like how I was in the middle of dealing with a coup attempt on my leadership of the Denver werewolves, helping to organize an international supernatural conspiracy, hanging onto my job, trying to stay sane—
So I deflected, and brought up the problem I could talk about. “I’m worried about Cheryl. I think I really pissed her off this time.”
“Don’t worry too much about that,” she answered, sounding amused. “You two have been pissing each other off since you were little.”
That was true. But it seemed like as kids we could forget about the grudges more quickly. Fight at lunch, friends again by supper. “Do you think I’m neglecting you all? Because I’m always running around trying to do too much?”
“Kitty, I know if we really need you you’d be here in a heartbeat. You were at Grandma Norville’s funeral, weren’t you? Of course I’d like to see you more often, we all would. But you have your own life to live.”
“If you say so. But Cheryl—”
“She’s going through a rough stretch right now, but she’ll be fine, eventually. You might call her every now and then, take her out for lunch or dinner. Let her know you haven’t forgotten about her.”
“I can do that.” It wouldn’t even be difficult. And just like that, life got a little brighter. “Thanks, Mom.”
* * *
PART OF the talking Becky and I did at the diner over third and fourth cups of coffee was make a plan. Darren had a plan. Becky was part of it, and she hadn’t told him the plan was off. So that was how we’d face him. Follow his plan, right up until we didn’t.
Their plan was for Becky to call me that evening and say that Darren was hurting her, and could we please come help. They’d be out by the full moon den, a remote space where we could have a proper showdown. Darren also picked the spot to be symbolic—this was the place the wolves called home, he wanted to prove he could control it. Becky would call, Ben and I would ride to the rescue. Trap sprung.
The hardest part of the new plan was going to be Becky convincing Darren she wasn’t lying when she told him that the old plan was still on. He’d be able to smell the deception on her. On the other hand, he’d only known her a few weeks. He didn’t know any of us, really, any more than we knew him. Maybe he’d think her strangeness was nerves.
She went home and showered to get the smell of the diner, and Ben and me, off her. Then, we went home and waited.
“We should call Cormac, let him know what’s happening,” Ben said, pacing across the living room.
“And have him ride to the rescue with his gun and silver bullets? No,” I said. We could do this without him.
Wincing, Ben scratched his head, ruffling his hair even more than usual. “You’re right. God, I hate this.”
Finally, Becky’s call came. “All right,” she said. “Time for you to rescue me.”
Darren must not have been within hearing range. She didn’t sound scared, or even like she was faking being scared. Nervous, yes. But also determined. I expected nothing else from her.
“We’ll be there soon,” I answered. “Just hold on.”
“Yeah,” she said and hung up.
I looked at Ben, and he kissed me.
“What was that for?” I said.
He shrugged. “I felt like it.”
“You want to maybe do it again?”