Shaking his head, Camden followed the two females downstairs and out of the building. Aspen and Bailey headed to the mamba’s new vehicle. Tate had allocated pride-owned cars to both females, since they were Havana’s guards and he wanted his mate riding in vehicles with bulletproof windows.
Camden crossed to his own car. Feeling eyes on him, he looked to his right. Just outside the parking lot stood a burly male. One he recognized well. Memories from long ago surged to the front of Camden’s mind, and his tiger shot to his feet with a growl.
The male smirked and turned away. He crossed the street right as a bus began to crawl by, hiding him from Camden’s view. By the time the bus had passed, the other male was gone.
Camden glanced around but saw no sign of him. His inner tiger wanted to stalk and track, but Camden wasn’t going to chase after the asshole. He wasn’t going to be baited this way. If the other male wanted a confrontation, he’d have to come say so.
CHAPTER THREE
Sitting opposite Corbin an hour later, Aspen studied his face. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”
She’d known something was wrong when her coworkers had given her weird looks as she made her way to his office. He’d opened the rec center many years ago, which it was exclusive to lone shifters. She’d worked there for a while now, just as Camden and her girls had. It was really their way of giving back to Corbin for providing them with a home when they’d so desperately needed one.
“I received an email earlier.” The grizzly rubbed at his nape. “The sender didn’t write anything, but he attached … pictures.”
She felt her brow furrow. “Pictures?”
“Photos. Of you. Explicit photos,” he bit out, his face flushing.
Aspen’s jaw went slack, and her gut tightened. “By explicit photos, do you mean pictures of me naked or having sex?”
“Both.”
Anger whipped through her, tightening every muscle. Before she could demand to see them, the office door flew open and banged against the wall.
Bailey stood there, her face like thunder. “The fuck?”
Corbin lifted a brow. “Eavesdropping, huh?”
“Well I knew something was up, and I wanted to know what.” Bailey mule-kicked the door to shut it. “You’re serious? Someone actually sent you pornographic pics of Aspen?”
“You think I’d make something like that up?”
“Let me see them,” said Aspen, feigning a calm that neither she nor her bearcat came close to feeling right then.
Corbin’s gaze dropped to his laptop. His fingers flew over the keys, and then he twisted the laptop to face her.
Aspen leaned forward as she clicked on the first attachment. And there she was lying naked on a bed, a broad equally naked male body draped over her. Her nails were digging into his back, and her legs were wrapped around his waist. The other pictures were variations of the first. They were also fake.
“That’s not me,” she said, a dark fury swirling in her belly. “Obviously, it’s my face. But the body isn’t mine. I don’t know why or who, but someone photoshopped my face onto the pictures.”
“I suspected as much.” A muscle in Corbin’s cheek ticked. “I tried replying to the email and received a ‘failed to send’ response. It looks like the email account was deactivated.”
“Much like the social media accounts that spammed me with messages,” Aspen mused.
“Yes. You still have no idea who sent you those messages?”
She shook her head. “But I’m thinking it was the same person who emailed you these pictures.” A person who was due the ass-kicking of a lifetime. And they’d get it. More than once. For a long while.
Corbin rubbed at his jaw, looking awkward. “They didn’t only email the pictures to me. They sent them to a number of people who work here.”
Aspen’s stomach dropped, and her bearcat barked a grumbly, guttural sound. Well that explained the odd looks she’d received from many of them.
Bailey gaped. “Son of a bitch. We totally need to dig out the tire iron.”
Aspen dug her nails into the arms of the chair. “And also the claymore.”
Corbin’s brow furrowed. “You have a claymore?”
“You don’t?” asked Bailey.
His frown deepened. “No.”
“Huh,” said the mamba. “Well that’s weird.”
“No, Bailey, it’s not. I’d say most people don’t own a claymore,” he told her.
“That’s a problem they should rectify. Swords often come in handy. As do bullwhips.”
“You have a bullwhip?”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“Weird.”
Raising a hand, he gave his head a fast shake. “Let’s just stop there.” He cut his gaze back to Aspen. “I’ll spread the word that the photos were doctored.”
Aspen nodded, but she knew that not everyone would believe him. Some would whisper and snicker behind her back. Some would shoot her cocky little smirks, so sure they’d seen her at a very private and vulnerable moment. Hell, some might even post the pictures online or show them to their friends. And then she’d have to hurt them.