Wolf Called Read online

  “I’m fine, Mrs. Adelstein.” I slipped past and unlocked the door.

  She coughed loudly, then shuffled back to her flat. “No, no, no,” she muttered. “It’s them you have to worry about.”

  Making a face, I glanced down the hall and darted inside as the last lock clicked open. Mrs. Adelstein needed to wrap some foil through those rollers, stat.

  The door closed behind me, and I pressed my back against the wood, my fingers fumbling for the deadlock. Safe at last…but I knew it was only an illusion.

  It was time to think about leaving. Again.

  Chapter 2

  Sloane

  As predicted, things got weird the next night, and it had nothing to do with the football on the big screen.

  My shift got off to a good start when I scored a ten-dollar tip—which I shoved down my bra so I would get to keep it—but when the place filled up, it raised my anxiety levels.

  Even after all this time, old habits died hard. My gaze darted around the bar, looking for threats where there were none.

  Seven years, I thought. Nothing for seven years, and now…

  It’d always been a possibility that my father might try to find me, but I knew how to handle myself. Growing up in a rough neighbourhood, followed by my awkward teenage years being dominated by a constant rotation of less-than-stellar foster homes, had instilled a ruthless survival instinct in me. Sometimes it almost felt animalistic—like a predator would protect its food and territory—and it always made me think of him. My father, the ultimate predator.

  The night wore on, and in the darkest and dingiest corner of the Sailor’s Arms, I spotted a familiar face.

  Chaser.

  How long had he been sitting there?

  Yvette sidled up beside me. “You just saw him, too, huh?”

  I nodded and tried to keep my hands busy. They were trembling and they never trembled.

  “He’s not even watching the game,” she went on. “And he’s ignoring all those flirty women. At least three have tried it on since I noticed him sitting there.” She glanced at me.

  “And you think he’s waiting for me to flirt with him?” I snorted. “Fat chance.”

  Yvette frowned. “Why do you keep saying things like that, Slo?”

  “Things like what?” I picked up a rag and wiped down the bar, anything to not look at her.

  “He grabbed you,” she said with a shake of her head. “If that was flirting, then I’d run the other way.”

  “He won’t do it again if he knows what’s good for him.”

  “He’s looking again.”

  Curiosity got the better of me, and I glanced up.

  Sure enough, Chaser was nursing a bottle of beer, his gaze sweeping the room, but it wasn’t focused on the football game or the women casting him flirty glances. He was sizing up the men. Every once in a while he would glance towards the entrance, then over to the bar where Yvette and I were staring at him.

  “Oh, shit,” Yvette said, spinning around. “Do you think he saw us?”

  “Yeah,” I drawled, giving Chaser the biggest stink-eye I could muster. “He saw us all right.”

  She worried her bottom lip. “He’s starting to worry me.”

  I tensed and draped the rag back across the edge of the sink. Harassing me was one thing—I could handle a little heat—but when it screwed with Yvette’s sense of safety, I saw red.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said, waving her off when she tried to stop me.

  Rounding the end of the bar, I strode across the pub, ignoring the sidelong glances, and stopped in front of a smug-looking Chaser. He wanted a confrontation, so here it was.

  Snatching the beer bottle out of his hand, I glared at him with as much force as I could muster.

  “I wasn’t finished with that,” he complained.

  “You’re hogging the table,” I declared. “And I can guarantee your beer is flat. You may as well be drinking toilet water.”

  He lounged back in the booth. “He warned me about this.”

  “Excuse me?” I felt my cheeks redden and thanked God we were in the corner where it was dark so he couldn’t see.

  “You’re a handful. Can see it already.”

  Holding up the bottle, I tipped the beer into his lap. “How’s that for a wet patch?”

  People around us snickered as Chaser held out his hands in mock defeat.

  “There are worse things in the world.”

  I tossed the empty beer bottle at him.

  He caught it against his chest and laughed. It was the wrong thing to do, but luckily for him, there was a table between us.

  “Get out of my face, Chaser,” I snarled. “Go back to my father and tell him the same words I told him seven years ago when he sent another loser like you after me. I’d rather asphyxiate on my own vomit than lay eyes on him ever again. He doesn’t exist to me. You got it?”

  Turning on my heel, I stalked across the pub, seething so hard I almost spontaneously combusted. When I calmed down enough to check if Chaser was still there or not, the booth was empty.

  Good. He was bad for my health.

  Stuffing a hot chip into my mouth, I chewed and thumped out another sentence. My poor laptop.

  My nights often went like this. Go to the local fast-food restaurant. Order the cheapest meal they had. Commandeer a table for a minimum of two to three hours. Then pack as much course work in as I could before walking the five blocks home in the dark, looking as tough as I could so I wouldn’t be attacked. Hopefully. My computer was a relic of a bygone era, but twenty bucks was twenty bucks around here.

  I’d become a regular fixture after six months. Management eventually twigged I was trying to study and didn’t hassle me anymore. I took up as little space as possible and kept away during the dinnertime rush, so we’d come to a silent understanding. As long as I wasn’t running drugs to their customers or casing the joint to prepare for an armed robbery, they didn’t mind me hanging out.

  Renee worked the counter on Sunday, Monday, and Wednesday nights when I came in to study. She was an eighteen-year-old who served me my usual order of cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke for several weeks before something mysterious shifted in the air, and she started to sit with me during her breaks. Two unlikely acquaintances.

  Tonight, she was watching me type and flip through my notes, her eyebrows in a constant state of interest.

  “What do you do when you come in here?” she asked. “Are you writing a book or something?”

  “Hardly,” I replied. “I’m writing a political science essay.”

  “You go to school on your computer?” She stared at the lid of my laptop like it was the doorway to Narnia.

  “Yeah. It will take a billion years and a billion dollars, but you can do it. At least the Wi-Fi here is free.”

  “What do you want to be?”

  “I’m not entirely sure yet, but right now, I’d settle for educated.”

  Renee snorted and took a chip from my tray.

  “You don’t want to go to uni?” I asked.

  “Can’t afford it,” she replied, then took out her phone. It clicked as she unlocked it, and her thumb flicked as she began scrolling.

  “There’s government help for that, you know.”

  She shrugged. “Too dumb.”

  “No one is too dumb for school,” I shot back. “I bet you could do it.”

  She gave me a look and went back to scrolling on her phone.

  I glanced to the side as a man walked past with a tray and narrowed my eyes. I’d been jumpy ever since Chaser showed up at the pub, carrying the latest sob story from father dearest. He wanted to protect me? From what?

  This is probably Dad’s plan, I thought. Install a seed of doubt into his only daughter and she’ll come back to the compound for protection. I wasn’t going to fall for it.

  Watching the man, I decided I didn’t like the look of him. He was wearing a black bomber jacket, dark shirt, and dark pants—the three most common clothing items in a police identikit.

  He was rough around the edges, but who wasn’t in this neighbourhood? Hell, they had an armed security guard at a family restaurant once the sun went down. There was an indicator of the clientele right there.

  Still, I snapped the lid of my laptop closed and gathered my notes, shoving the lot into my battered backpack.

  “You going?” Renee asked.

  “Yeah, you want the rest of these fries?”

  She grabbed the edge of the tray and slid it towards her.

  “See ya,” she muttered, shoving a fry into her mouth, her gaze barely leaving her phone.

  “See you later.”

  There was no further reply, and I rolled my eyes. Kids and their phones.

  Sliding my backpack on, I pushed out of the restaurant and stepped onto the footpath.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I sank deeper into my denim jacket and lengthened my stride. Crossing the road, I threw another look at the golden arches behind me. The door opened, and bomber jacket man appeared.

  My heart skipped a beat, and I fished around in my pocket for my keys. Shoving a key through each finger, I fashioned myself a pointy set of brass knuckles just in case I had to stab and run.

  I put my head down and hurried down the footpath, passing under orange streetlights and darting across side streets. I was a shadow in a shadowy world.

  Looking back over my shoulder every so often, I saw the man walking at a distance. I couldn’t be sure he was following me—there was a chance he was just going the same direction—but I couldn’t be too careful.

  My heartbeat sped up and I put my head down, increasing my speed. I was on the verge of running, but I held on to my nerves with everything I had.

  I rounded the last corner before I reached my street and caught sight of home in the distance. I’d never been happier to see the dump in my entire life, and I hurried towards it, stepping into the ring of light surrounding the concrete monstrosity.

  Throwing one last look back, the man was nowhere to be seen, but my heart didn’t stop thundering in my chest. Slamming the fob against the sensor, I was granted access. Pushing through the door, I closed it behind me and heaved a sigh of relief. Safe and sound for now.

  When I reached the fifth floor, Mrs. Adelstein was lurking in the hallway again.

  “It’s late,” she said when she saw me.

  The only way was past her, so I sidled by and flashed her a fake smile. “I was studying.”

  “Oh, that’s right. It’s Monday.”

  She didn’t seem to be interested in chatting, so knowing what was good for me, I kept walking. Fishing out my keys, I let them fall from between my fingers and shoved the first one into the deadlock.

  “Sloane?” she called out, signalling she’d had an afterthought.

  Rolling my eyes, I plastered on a smile before I turned around. “Yes?”

  “There was someone knocking on your door earlier.”

  “Oh?” I froze, the smile twitching on my face.

  “He was loud. Next time, tell him to knock a little softer.”

  A bad feeling crawled up and down my spine. “Who was he?”

  “A mean-looking man,” she went on. “Leather jacket, boots. He knocked and knocked, and I told him to get lost. You better not be mixed up in the drugs. A smart girl like you…?” She clucked her tongue and shuffled back into her apartment. She went inside and slammed the door behind her, the sound echoing like thunder down the concrete hallway.

  Leather jacket and big boots? Was it Chaser…or someone else? More importantly, how did he get into the building?

  Swallowing hard, I undid the second lock and slipped inside my apartment, making sure all the locks were in place before latching the chain. I turned on the lights and flipped the sofa back. Reaching inside the lining, my fingers brushed past springs and stuffing before they rubbed up against what I was looking for.

  Taking out the 9mm handgun and the box of matching bullets, I sat on the floor and loaded the magazine, listening to the sounds of the apartment block. A kid screamed, television noise roared through the wall, a door slammed, muffled voices argued, and a telephone rang.

  If Chaser was right and someone was coming for me, then I’d be ready. And if Chaser came back… Well, I wasn’t sure what I would do if he turned up again. He hadn’t gotten the message last night if Mrs. Agoraphobic down the hall was handing in her report.

  I just wanted to be left alone. Was that too much to ask? Seemed like it.

  I’d put all this behind me years ago. I was getting on with life, and even though things weren’t amazing, they were better than they ever could’ve been if the powers-that-be had let my father take custody.

  Out here, in the real world, I was a human being. Back there, back in Melbourne, I was a commodity—a bargaining chip with a bleak future. There was nothing else for the daughter of a criminal kingpin to be.

  If I kept refusing Chaser’s advances, there was no doubt in my mind he would try to take me by force. When the moment came, I’d have to be ready. No hesitation.

  No one gained their freedom by hiding their head in the sand. No one at all.

  Slamming the full magazine into the handgrip of the gun, I made sure the safety was on and glanced at the door. I would put a bullet right in Chaser’s pretty boy face before he took me anywhere.

  He could count on it.

  Chapter 3

  Sloane

  Jack and Coke. Three shots of Fireball Whisky. Two craft beers. Five shots of Jägermeister. A round of Carlton Draught.

  Glancing at the clock on the wall, I narrowed my eyes. Yvette was late. Again.

  More beer and some Jack and Coke. Fireball, Fireball, Fireball. Strawberry vodka lemonade.

  “Hey, Slo,” Yvette said as she appeared from out back. “Busy night?”

  “Yeah,” I shot at her. “I can hardly keep up.”

  “Sorry,” she said with a pout. “Brittany had a meltdown right before I was leaving. Brown stuff was everywhere.” She made a puking motion.

  I suppressed an eye roll and flung a dishcloth at her.

  She caught it against her chest and laughed. “Thanks, Slo.”

  “I let you take advantage of me more often than I should.”

  “Aw, don’t be like that.” Yvette wrapped her arms around my neck, giving me a faceful of her favourite lilac perfume. “I’ll give you some of my tips for the cover. You know I’m good for it.”

  “And you know I will say keep it because you need the extra nappies.”

  Yvette leaned against the bar and crossed her arms over her chest. “Hey, I uh… I spotted that guy on my way in.”

  I screwed up my face, not hearing her over the music. “Huh?”

  “That guy is here,” she repeated. “The one whose you-know-what you gave a beer shower to.”

  A group of men at the bar sniggered, and I suppressed the urge to give them a piece of my mind. Those creeps were nothing compared to the things a man like Chaser was capable of. Too bad I wasn’t allowed to bring a gun to work, though it was sitting pretty in my bag out back. One thing they didn’t do here was a security check on their staff, and that was good for me—especially since it was against the law to carry.

  “You’re kidding me,” I said, my gaze flickering around the pub.

  “If I didn’t know any better, I would think he has a thing for you,” Yvette said, nodding across the room. “Be careful, Slo. You know what happened the last time someone here got themselves a stalker.”

  Did I ever. Harriet was one of the good ones. She had been sweet, innocent, and was just trying to get by in the world like the rest of us. Problem was, she had a bleeding heart and gave more than she ought to. Harriet wasn’t with us anymore in the most permanent way possible.

  “Can you hold down the bar for ten?” I asked, wiping my hands on my jeans.

  “You’re not going to talk to him again, are you?” she asked, looking alarmed. “I know I said—”

  “I know what you said,” I shot back. “Don’t worry about it.”

  She glanced over at Chaser again and shrugged, signalling she either didn’t know what to say or didn’t want to get involved. Couldn’t say I blamed her, what with her little girl at home and all. She didn’t want to become a statistic, but I had little to lose.

  “Slo!” Yvette called out.

  “It’ll be fine.” I waved her off and rounded the end of the bar.

  Wandering through the press of men in high-vis work gear gathered for the latest stevedores union meeting, I searched for Chaser. Knowing he would be in the darkest corner possible with the best vantage point, I made for the row of booths he’d been sitting in the other night.

  Sure enough, he was in the same one, lounging like he owned the place with his arm slung over the back of the padded seat.

  I didn’t like it. He looked cold and calculating—a different kind of predatory I hadn’t encountered before. I hoped it wasn’t a serial killer vibe I was picking up on, but knowing the kind of company my dad kept, I wouldn’t be surprised.

  I stepped past a group of men who were violently debating the latest scandal down at the docks and slid into the booth opposite Chaser. He raised an eyebrow and leaned forwards, resting his elbows on the table.

  “Look what the cat dragged in,” he drawled, giving me the once-over. His gaze lingered a little too long, and I thumped my fist onto the table.

  “You need to leave me alone,” I snarled.

  “You can cry and beg all you like, but I’m not going anywhere.”

  Don’t let him intimidate you, Sloane. He has to get the message; otherwise, you’re gunna have to move on, leave Yvette and what little life you’ve managed to build behind. You’re gunna have to start all over again.

  “How many times do I have to say no before you get the hint?” I asked, practically seething. “Is that how you treat all women, or am I just special like that?”