Gift Wrap by Charlaine Harris

Author:Charlaine Harris [Harris, Charlaine]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-01-03T07:00:00+00:00

“They left me for a reason.” He looked humiliated. “I didn’t want to talk abo ut

it. But you’ve been so kind.”

I was not liking this more and more. “And that reason would be?”

“I was payment for an offense.”

“Explain in twenty words or less.”

He stared down at the floor, and I realized he was counting in his head. This guy was one of a kind. “Packleader’s sister wanted me, I didn’t want her, sh e

said I’d insulted her, my torture was the price.”

“Why would your packleader agree to any such thing?”

“Am I still supposed to number my words?”

I shook my head. He’d sounded dead serious. Maybe he just had a really dee p

sense of humor.

“I’m not my packleader’s favorite person, and he was willing to believe I wa s

guilty. He himself wants the sister of the Sharp Claw packmaster, and it wou ld

be a good match from the point of view of our packs. So, I was hung out to dry.”

I could sure believe the packmaster’s sister had lusted after him. The rest of the story was not outrageous, if you’ve had many dealings with the Weres. S

ure,

they’re all human and reasonable on the outside, but when they’re in their W

ere

mode, they’re different.

“So, they’re here to get you and keep on beating you up?”

He nodded somberly. I didn’t have the heart to tell him to rewind the towel.

I

took a deep breath, looked away, and decided I’d better go get the shotgun.

Howls were echoing, one after another, through the night by the time I fetch ed

the shotgun from the closet in the living room. The Sharp Claws had tracked Preston to my house, clearly. There was no way I could hide him and say tha t

he’d gone. Or was there? If they didn’t come in . . .

“You need to get in the vampire hole,” I said. Preston turned from staring at the back door, his eyes widening as he took in the shotgun. “It’s in the guest bedroom.” The vampire hole dated from when Bill Compton had been my bo yfriend,

and we’d thought it was prudent to have a light-tight place at my house in ca se

he got caught by day.

When the big Were didn’t move, I grabbed his arm and hustled him down the hall,

showed him the trick bottom of the bedroom closet. Preston started to protest—all Weres would rather fight than flee—but I shoved him in, lowere d the

“floor,” and threw the shoes and junk back in there to make the closet look realistic.

There was a loud knock at the front door. I checked the shotgun to make sure it

was loaded and ready to fire, and then I went into the living room. My heart was

pounding about a hundred miles a minute.

Werewolves tend to take blue-collar jobs in their human lives, though some of

them parlay those jobs into business empires. I looked through my peephole to

see that the werewolf at my front door must be a semipro wrestler. He was h uge.

His hair hung in tight gelled waves to his shoulders, and he had a trimmed b eard

and mustache, too.

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