SEVEN
The address Jo gave Nic was in the middle of literally nowhere. It was close to the Lima pack but not so close as to be able to see signs of it. Instead, it was on the utmost outskirts of the Saddlewood pack, the neighbor to Jo’s pack, and it was so deep in the woods, it gave off horror movie vibes. Nic was starting to worry he had taken a wrong turn and was about to be killed off by chainsaw wielding criminals before the tiny cabin appeared. It was in disrepair and the decent sized garage near it wasn’t much better, but it looked like it was holding up. Out of all the places, Nic wondered why this was the best place they could have found for this, but Jo was calling the shots. If she thought this place was it, then it was.
Hopefully, no crazy family popped out of the trees and tried to hunt them down. A couple of wolves could take on a bunch of mountain people any day, but still. Nic would be ashamed of the way he’d scream if a man with a machete came running out of the forest.
Turning off his truck and climbing out, Nic listened for any sounds. Nothing came from the cabin itself, but he heard metal clinking in the garage.
“Hello?” he called, listening closely.
The metal stopped clinking. There was a long hesitation before the voice he longed to hear called out, “I’m in the garage.”
Her voice was hard, guarded, but Nic followed her directions and walked through the door.
The first thing he noticed was the sheer amount of technology and items strewn around the workspace. There was no car in it yet, but there were plenty of weapons. Most of them looked like secondhand types she’d pulled off other cars. The computers were opened all around, schematics across them despite there being no car. The blueprint looked like a generic car shape with various weapons attached to the frame in the best pattern she could produce until they got a vehicle. There would be no going to a dealership for them he was certain. The wolf packs didn’t have enough money to give to their race team, so most of this would be funded by Nic and Jo. Jo hadn’t asked Nic for any money yet, but he had a decent amount saved up. It wouldn’t be a lot but at least it was something.
The weapons and computers around were like magic to Nic. He didn’t know what any of it did, didn’t know how any of it worked, but Jo was a genius. She likely knew everything and more about each piece. He was just lucky he was a good enough driver that she’d be okay with him being on her team.
“Where did you get all this stuff?” Nic asked, moving over to touch a finger to a metal contraption. It looked like some sort of gun, but he didn’t know much about it. It could shoot Cornish pixies for all he knew.
“The Race Games has a junkyard where they toss all the cars that don’t make the games,” Jo offered.
“You mean, the cars of those that died,” Nic clarified. “We going to be haunted this race?”
Jo shrugged. “For the price I got all of this for, I’m fine with a few ghosts.”
“Oh.” Nic studied it all. “I can give you money—”
“I don’t need your money,” she interrupted, not looking up from where she was tinkering with one of the weapons. It had a dent in the side of it that she was clearly trying to fix.
“We’re a team. I took this opportunity willing to give money where needed. At least let me pay for the car we choose.”
She set down her wrench and turned toward him, her beauty slapping him in the face. She was always beautiful, her skin like copper, her cheekbones high, her lips full. But what attracted Nic to Jo most was who she was as a person. Ten years ago, he hadn’t known anything about her. Now, he knew she was smart, caring, and strong. Everything about her made his wolf want to howl.
But it was her eyes that nearly disarmed him now.
“Look, Nic. I realize we’re supposed to be a team, but don’t think for one minute you’re going to come in here and take control.”
Nic raised his arms in surrender. “I’m not trying to take control. I’m just trying to contribute. I want to help.”
“Do you know how to dismantle and reassemble a Gatlin gun?” Nic opened his mouth but didn’t get an answer out before she continued. “Can you weld? Can you run all the wires needed through the wiring harness and chase out any bugs until the car runs as it should?”
When she paused, Nic took the opportunity to speak. “I can YouTube the Gatling Gun. I can weld but it’s not the prettiest. I can run wires though I admit, I will probably need help chasing out the bugs unless you’d like to sit there and watch me Google every option.”
She studied him some more. “Fair enough. When we go to the junkyard tomorrow, I might consider letting you pay for the car. We’ll pick it out together.”
“Deal,” Nic replied eagerly. Progress. This was progress. “So, should we talk about—”
“Stop,” she says, turning back to the large metal thing she was working on.
“But I didn’t even finish what I was going to say.”
“I know what you’re going to say,” she said. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
Nic frowned. “I think there’s plenty to talk about actually.”
She turned again and met his eyes. The strength and anger that he saw there made him flinch. “I’m only here to win this race, Nic. Nothing more.” She paused and he saw the moment she decided to really dig her claws in. “You’re only a tool for my success.”
He jerked and pressed his hand to his chest. “Ouch.”
She tilted up her chin. “Hand me the eight-millimeter wrench.”
He turned and picked up the tool, passing it to her. “I get it you’re angry with me, Jo, but I’m trying to make up for my mistakes.”
“They won’t be made up for in the first five minutes of you walking through that door. I’m not even sure if you can make up for them.”
“Jo—”
“No,” she grunted, narrowing her eyes. “You looked me in the eyes and suggested that we go our separate ways, that I could go after my dreams while you fucked your way through every pack in the south. Don’t ‘Jo’ me. You haven’t earned the right to ask for forgiveness.”
Nic took a step back at the anger in her eyes, at the feral hurt that was reflected there. Ten years and he was still hurting her. Shame filled him. What a fool he’d been.
“I understand,” he whispered. “I was young and dumb. I’m trying to show you I’m not that same wolf.”
She shook her head. “Ten years and you never bothered to check in with me. Don’t pretend as if you care now, Nic.”
She leaned over the weapon and began loosening a bolt with the wrench, her shoulders tense not because of the work, but because of him. He was stressing her out. He was hurting her.
“What makes you think I didn’t check on you?” he asked softly. “I did—”
“Just stop,” she said, and there was another tone there, a desperation. She wouldn’t beg, but this was as close as she’d get. She glanced over her shoulder at him, and he saw it there in her eyes, the hurt that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to heal. “Help me win this race and then we can both go back to pretending the other doesn’t exist.”
Pain hit him, but it was warranted. He’d made the mistakes. He’d been an asshole. If she never wanted to speak to him again, then he deserved it. But everything in him demanded he heal that hurt, so he would try his best. In the end, if they became at least friends, he’d be happy with that.
And if she told him to leave?
Well, then he’d do that, too. As long as she was happy.