When He was Bad by Cynthia Eden

Author:Cynthia Eden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2014-02-16T16:00:00+00:00

Van stormed into the Van Holtz house and he watched every Pack member but his parents disappear. Even his sister grabbed her mate’s arm and pulled him from the room.

“Well?” he snarled. “Any word from Edgar?”

“Nope,” his father replied calmly, turning the page of his Wall Street Journal. The old man’s wounds had completely healed, a six-month trip around Europe for him and his mate booked, and the disturbing noises coming from behind their bedroom door suggested Old Man Holtz was thoroughly enjoying his retirement.

“Then I’m done waiting.”

“And what will you do, my son?” his mother asked as she worked on her needlepoint.

“Something!” he roared. “Which is more than any of you are doing. My mate is gone and no one cares!”

“Of course we care,” his mother chastised gently.

Afraid he’d say something that would irrevocably damage his loving relationship with his parents, Van turned and walked up the stairs toward his room. Throwing open his door, he tore off his jacket and tossed it across the room, moving over to the phone. He picked up the receiver but stopped when he heard sounds he found annoying and exhilarating all at the same time.

Tapping and beeping.

Dropping the phone back in its cradle, Van walked out of his room and across the hall. He pushed the door open, ignoring how it snagged on the multitude of wires and cords.

And there she sat. At her computer, plugging away at something he never would or wanted to understand.

He heard her give a little curse, annoyed that the fingers of her right hand weren’t moving as fast as she’d like them to. And he sensed that they hurt a bit too, since she kept bending them and wincing.

Van gave himself a moment to enjoy seeing her there . . . safe. And where she belonged.

She cursed again and turned sideways in her chair, bending her fingers and frowning down at her defenseless cast.

“Don’t even think about taking that cast off, doc.”

Irene’s head snapped up and she gave a relieved smile . . . seconds before she jumped out of the chair and charged into his arms.

Van held Irene tight against him, his relief at having her back in his arms nearly dropping him to his knees.

“I didn’t think you’d ever get home,” she said into his neck.

“Me?” he laughed. “You had me worried sick.”

“Blame the government. They wanted my formula.”

“Did they break you?”

Her sniff was arrogance personified. “Not in this lifetime. Although . . .”

“Although?”

“I wish I’d known your uncle was coming. They were really quite upset about the damage.”

Unwilling to release her, Van pulled back enough to see her face. “Damage?”

“From the explosion,” she answered simply.

“I don’t want to hear this, do I?”

“Probably not. Besides, your uncle said he’d take care of it.”

“Good enough.” Van lifted her and carried her back into their bedroom, slamming the door with his foot.

He laid her on the bed, stretching out beside her. “I missed you, doc.”

“I missed you, too.”

They stared at each other for several seconds, then they both sighed sadly.

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