Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“I see.” Now I know exactly where this is going.
“Madi, is there any way you could arrange something? I know you’re in charge of his schedule. He wouldn’t agree to meet with me, but could you set up an appointment he won’t question? He will refuse it if he knows it's me, so it would have to be under the radar.”
Tension tugs in my solar plexus. I do want to help her, actually. Well, no, I want to help Blackthroat, and in this case, that might mean going against his wishes. She's right about the situation needing to be healed. My boss is in pain, and if a meeting with his mom could help stop his suffering, then I should help make it happen. My job is to make his life easier. Wouldn't it be easier if he healed his relationship with his mother?
Ugh. I'm not sure. This is a slippery slope.
I click open Blackthroat’s electronic calendar and scan through his appointments for the week.
“He's out of the office for an appointment Monday. You could come here and wait in his office to talk to him when he gets back.”
“Oh, honey, that would be great.” Relief and appreciation sound in her voice.
“Okay, be here around one o’clock.”
“I will. Thank you Madi.”
I hang up and a coil of anxiety twists behind my belly button.
I hope I didn’t just make a huge mistake.
Chapter Seven
Billy
I drive to Williamsburg, the Brooklyn neighborhood where Madison Evans lives, and find valet parking in a hotel nearby. The private investigators I hired gave me the full scoop on her, including a dossier on her roommate, Aubrey Cook. The two apparently grew up in the same apartment building in Jersey.
It’s Aubrey I’m hunting down today. There’s not a logical reason–nothing I think I can glean from her that my private investigators probably couldn't ferret out. But my instincts told me to visit her in person, and a wolf trusts his instincts.
I stare at the photo of a beautiful young woman with dark skin and a froth of wild brown curls highlighted in gold and crimson. Her skin is smooth, her cheekbones high, and her pierced nose is adorned with a thin gold hoop. She’s pleasing to the eye, but I hate everything about her. I can just tell she’s a screaming liberal. She has a wild and carefree look that puts my teeth on edge. The photo was taken from her social media, and in it, she’s wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a crop top that reads, “Eat the Rich.” As if by rejecting money, she might actually hold some kind of power, when of course, the opposite is always true.
I leave the folder with her information in the car, along with my necktie, and walk to La Résistance, the cafe where she’ll be working this evening.
Why a cafe would be open at night is beyond me. Shouldn’t coffee places close after dark? It speaks of a business that doesn’t really know who or what it is. My opinion is confirmed when I arrive at the establishment. The wall outside is painted with a giant mural depicting an Occupy Wall Street protest. Inside, I find an arty, activist sort of place with a bulletin board covered in flyers advertising everything from social protest events to art openings and open mics.
I see my prey behind the counter. Her hair is in braids now that cascade over her shoulders and swing and shift with each movement. She wears a tight, cinnamon-colored crop top with a heart cut-out above her breasts in the style her roommate Madi likes to wear to torment Brick. The curves of her ass are clearly delineated in a tight pair of jeans.
I gnash my teeth, already wanting to wring her smug little neck for being as big a cocktease as her friend.
Unlike Madison, Aubrey doesn’t play act at fitting within a business world where she doesn’t belong. She seems very clearly at home in this wild, chaotic environment of the cafe.
According to her file, she’s majoring in Women’s Studies on the five or six-year plan because she’s putting herself through school with loans and her job here. My PI believes she may be angling for pre-law eventually based on her extracurricular activities and social activism, but it’s hard to tell.
The mere fact that this person is Madison Evans’ best friend speaks volumes. I’d suspected Madison was faking who she was, and this seems to confirm it.
She watches me survey the place, unwrapping a blow pop and sticking it in her mouth as I saunter forward.
Unlike Madi, she makes no polite pretense at being helpful. She doesn’t snap to attention when I walk to the counter. She doesn’t even take the damn blow pop from between those pillowed lips, just leans on her forearms, giving me an admittedly glorious view of her cleavage.