Early Grave: Grant Wolves Book 1 Read online

  “Here?” He chuckled. “I—” The reply died on his lips as pain lanced his abdomen. Gasping, he looked down and found a knife’s hilt protruding from his stomach. Tasha’s pale fingers, smeared with crimson, were curled around the grip. His eyes darted to her in confusion, but the agony stole his breath and when the burning started he didn’t even have any left to scream.

  2

  Joey woke to the grating screech of her alarm and fumbled for the phone on the nightstand, nearly upsetting the glass of water sitting next to it in the process. Her heart was pounding; the sudden noise had jolted her from a rather pleasant dream about running along the beach, feeling the sand beneath her paws and the wind in her fur… the transition from wolf to human was always a little jarring, even when it was only a dream.

  By the time she managed to get the alarm turned off, there was no hope of a few more minutes of sleep. She tossed the phone down on the bed and rolled onto her back with a groan, rubbing her eyes and blinking blearily up at the ceiling. It was a ridiculous dream. She never ran on the beach, not as a wolf. It was too exposed, too odd for a large red wolf to be there. It didn’t mean she didn’t want to do it, though. Just once. She could still smell the ocean, taste the spray of the surf.

  It took her a bit more effort to shake off the dream and haul herself out of bed. After a side trip to the bathroom, she wandered out in search of coffee. She was mildly surprised to see Chris’s bedroom door open on her way past. All-nighters weren’t usually his thing, but they did happen now and then.

  The aroma of brewing coffee soon filled the air, and she went about her morning routine: Coffee, email, coffee, breakfast, coffee, shower, coffee. Somewhere along the way, she had an extra cup since she had the unexpected luxury of having the whole pot to herself.

  The morning passed uneventfully, and around nine o’clock she stepped out of the apartment to head to the studio. She hoisted her gym bag on one shoulder and was halfway down the steps outside when she remembered that Chris had taken the car. Annoyance flared briefly and her steps slowed, but it was a sunny day and the studio wasn’t far.

  She set off with a spring in her step, auburn ponytail swaying and earbuds in. Spanish guitar flowed into her ears, putting her in the right head space for her upcoming rehearsal. The sun was warm on her skin, the cerulean sky only broken up here and there by a few fluffy white clouds—fairly typical weather for October in southern California.

  Even though it had dipped below the horizon hours ago, she could still feel the pull of the moon. Its influence was undeniable throughout the day, but it was strongest at night. The waxing moon always brought a certain clarity with it. She always felt sharper in this phase. Focused. On top of her game. She couldn’t wait to get back in the studio, back to work.

  Maybe I can talk Chris into an evening session tonight… no, wait, dinner with Cheryl and Em. After?

  Within thirty minutes, Joey arrived at Shay’s Dance Studio, so proclaimed in glittering gold paint on the front windows. It was practically a second home, and she felt a sort of peace wash over her as she stepped inside the building. The hallmark scents of a busy dance studio enveloped her, and it didn’t take a wolf’s nose to pick up those traces of sweat and spandex, canvas and leather, rosin and wood.

  “Good morning, Ms. Grant.” The receptionist always greeted her cheerily each morning. Seriously, she couldn’t remember the woman ever taking a day off.

  Pushing her sunglasses up to rest atop her head, Joey managed a smile for the overly-sunny woman as she edged past the front desk. “Good morning, Sally. Seen my partner in crime yet this morning?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll be sure to send him up as soon as I do,” Sally replied, as chipper as ever; Joey hastened for the stairs in case it was contagious.

  By the time she got through her warm-up and stretches, Chris was over twenty minutes late. Annoyed, she grabbed her phone and fired off a quick text.

  hey asshole, where r u?

  A few minutes passed, and no response. Annoyed, she reached for her phone again.

  must have been quite the piece of tail

  After a thoughtful pause, she added one last message. Antagonizing him wasn’t going to get her anywhere.

  let me know when ur on the way.

  She tried to make productive use of the time while she waited, but it wasn’t an easy thing to rehearse a tango without a partner. The more time passed, the angrier she got. When her phone rang an hour and a half later, she all but pounced on it only to be disappointed—and a little annoyed—that it wasn’t Chris at all. She answered it anyway, jabbing the touch screen with her thumb.

  “What?” she growled into the phone.

  “Uh, is this a bad time?” It was Cheryl, Joey’s other best friend. Cheryl and Chris pretended to jockey for first place; Cheryl was even known to refer to Chris as Joey’s “second-best friend,” but it was all in good fun.

  “Kind of,” Joey admitted. “What’s up?” She paced over to the window, looking down on the street while she listened.

  “Nothing, just checking to see if we’re still on for dinner tonight. I have no idea what Em’s making. She’s banished me from the kitchen.” Cheryl’s voice was warm with amusement, no hint of annoyance present.

  “Because you keep sticking your fingers in things!” Emma called in the background, presumably from the kitchen.

  “When are you going to learn to wait until after she’s done to start licking spoons?” Joey said, chuckling. “But yeah, I’ll be there…” She paused, frowning as her eyes scanned the street below. “Might be down my plus one, Chris is AWOL this morning.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, he had some hot date last night and didn’t come home. We were supposed to start rehearsal almost two hours ago.”

  “Really?” The word radiated concern. “That doesn’t sound like Chris. You haven’t heard from him at all?”

  Cheryl’s tone gave Joey pause. She’d been so caught up in being annoyed with Chris that it hadn’t occurred to her to be worried that something might have happened to him.

  She’s right. This really isn’t like him. Am I the worst sister ever?

  “Hello?” Cheryl’s voice interrupted her reverie. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been thinking it over. Too long, apparently.

  “Yeah. I mean, no. I haven’t heard from him at all. But I’m sure it’s fine. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Cheryl or herself more. But he was a big boy, and he could take care of himself. Right?

  “Well, let me know when you hear from him, okay? And if there’s any Chris left when you’re finished tearing him a new one, bring it to dinner.”

  Joey emitted a short, strained laugh. “Will do.”

  She stood there holding her phone for a long moment after hanging up, staring at the black screen. Worry bubbled beneath the surface, but she wasn’t sure it was warranted. Shaking it off at least temporarily, she went back to rehearsing, but after another less than productive hour passed she gave up and sent Chris one more text before leaving the studio.

  heading home. r u ok?

  Chris never answered Joey’s texts. His social media accounts remained silent. He didn’t call, and he didn’t come home. The television only distracted her for so long. By dinnertime, Joey had scrubbed the kitchen sink until it gleamed and picked up, put away, wiped down, and polished everything she could lay hands on. She was beyond worried; she was riding a wave of anxiety that threatened to crash against the breakers and pull her under at any moment.

  Even though she needed to get her ass in gear if she was going to make it to dinner on time, she started making phone calls instead. Her thumb skipped around her contact list, hitting the most likely suspects first.

  Every call went roughly the same.

  “Have you heard from Chris today? What about last night? Okay, thanks. Hey, if you do would you tell him to call me?”

  As the pool of possibilities steadily emptied, her
heart sank. No one had seen him. No one had heard from him. It wasn’t possible for someone to fall off the face of the earth, was it?

  Her thumb hovered over a particular name again. She’d passed over it several times, knowing he’d be at work already. His boss was pretty strict about phone use behind the bar, but she was running out of non-parental options—and that was a level of DEFCON she wasn’t ready to invoke.

  He picked up on the second ring. Latin music played noisily in the background, spilling out the speaker of the phone loudly enough that Joey shifted the phone away from her sensitive ear.

  “Bitch, I told you not to call me at work.” The harsh words were blunted by a jovial tone.

  Joey snorted a chuckle in spite of herself. “Hi Rico.”

  “What’s up chica?”

  “Have you heard from Chris today?”

  “Chris? No…”

  “What about last night?”

  “Yeah. I mean, he was here last night.”

  Joey blinked and sat up straighter on the couch. “Last night? He was at Santiago’s last night?”

  “Yeah, is something—mierda, gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

  The line went silent, but Joey held the phone up until the beep of the call actually ending reminded her to lower it. Her mind raced. Chris had been at Santiago’s. She contemplated the phone in her hand, but there was no way she could wait for Rico to call her back. It could be hours until he got a break.

  She launched herself off the couch and headed for the door, dialing Cheryl along the way. While the phone rang, she shoved her feet into untied sneakers and grabbed her purse. She was already out the front door by the time Cheryl answered.

  “Hey girl, are you on your way? Did you hear from Chris?”

  “No and no, unfortunately. But I did get a lead on where he was last night. I’m headed—shit, I don’t have the car.”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  It was around six o’clock when Joey and Cheryl walked into Santiago’s. The music, which Joey’s wolf ears had first picked up a block away, washed over her. The dance floor beckoned, but she had more pressing matters at hand.

  The bouncer detached himself from the wall, and his stern face broke into a broad smile. “Hey Jojo! And…?”

  Joey let Cheryl answer for herself while she scanned the club. It was irrational to hope that Chris might be there, but she looked anyway.

  “Cheryl. Nice to see you again, Tony.”

  “Right, right! Sorry. You ladies don’t look like you came to dance.” Their street clothes were decidedly ill-suited to a night on the town.

  “No,” Joey said and shook her head. “I Just came to talk to Rico. And you, actually. Was Chris here last night?”

  Tony tilted his head, expression taking a thoughtful turn. “Yeah, why?”

  “He didn’t come home last night. Or today. I haven’t heard from him at all.”

  “Ahh. I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just spending time with his lady friend.”

  Joey’s human ears would have perked up if they could. “Lady friend? Anyone you know?”

  “Nah, I’ve seen her around a bit in the last week or two but never caught her name. Kinda short, red hair, easy on the eyes. She was really into him.”

  Joey frowned thoughtfully, but nodded. “Okay, well if you see him tonight—or her, for that matter—would you give me a call?”

  “Sure.” He passed her his phone and she added her phone number, then handed it back.

  “Thanks.” She squeezed his arm and slipped away as his eyes shifted toward a noisy group of new arrivals.

  With Cheryl in tow, she headed for the bar. It was early enough that there wasn’t much of a crowd to speak of. Rico was behind the bar as expected, a clipboard in one hand. He glanced up as they approached and his brows shot up.

  “Joey? Hey…”

  Joey flashed him a weak smile. “Couldn’t wait. Can we talk?”

  He gave her a considering look before nodding. “Sure, gimme a minute.” While he reached for the walkie talkie under the bar, Joey turned her attention to Cheryl.

  “I know I said it in the car but… thanks again.”

  Cheryl smiled, looped an arm around her and squeezed. “Don’t mention it. Em’s keeping dinner warm, so whenever we’re done we can go have dinner.”

  Joey nodded and squeezed Cheryl back, grateful for her willingness to help, but that was Cheryl in a nutshell. They’d known each other since high school, had been there for each other through good times and bad. Standing by the bar, she leaned against her friend and hoped that one day they’d be able to look back on this and laugh.

  A couple minutes later, someone came to relieve Rico so he could take a break. Joey left Cheryl at the bar and followed Rico through the door marked Employees Only. As it swung closed behind them, the music from the front became muted enough that they could converse normally. Part store room and part break area, the back room featured shelves full of boxes of alcohol and other bar supplies as well as a ratty old couch. Just seeing it sparked a memory of another night, the last time she’d been back there. She pushed it aside, unwilling to give in to the distraction.

  “Okay,” he said, turning to her. “What’s wrong?”

  Joey winced. “Is it that obvious?”

  “I’m a bartender.” He spread his hands. “Reading people is what I do.”

  “Chris didn’t come home last night. I haven’t heard from him at all today. He missed rehearsal, he’s not answering his phone and I’m just… worried.”

  Rico’s brows drew together. “Did you call the cops?”

  “No, not yet. You have to wait twenty-four hours before you can report someone missing. Anyway, you said he was here last night. Was he with someone? He had a date.”

  “Didn’t mention a date to me, but he danced with Selene a bit.”

  “Selene? Is she a redhead?”

  “No, she’s the owner’s niece, visiting from Havana. But now that you mention it, he did buy a drink for a redhead. Gimlet.”

  Joey chuckled. “Leave it to a bartender to remember what someone was drinking.”

  “I don’t get a lot of requests for gimlets. It was memorable.” He shrugged.

  “I take it the redhead wasn’t a regular?”

  “Not really. I’ve seen her a few times, but not more than that.”

  “If you see her or Chris tonight would you give me a call?”

  “Sure.”

  He caught her arm and drew her in for a hug. She went willingly, leaning against him and taking comfort in the warmth of his embrace. As she inhaled his familiar scent, his spicy cologne tickled her nostrils and that memory rose to the surface again—stronger, this time.

  “I haven’t been back here since… you know.”

  He chuckled, his chest rumbling under her ear. “I’m off at midnight if you want to drop by later.”

  Joey laughed and pulled away. “Maybe another time.” She’d never had more than a couple of one night stands, but Rico had been fun. No strings, no drama, just a good time between two healthy adults on the world’s least comfortable sofa.

  “Everything’s gonna be okay bonita. You know that, right? He’ll turn up.” He tucked her hair behind one ear, then draped an arm around her shoulders and started for the door.

  “Yeah, I’m counting down the minutes until I get to kick his ass.”

  “That’s the spirit.” He reached over her shoulder to push the door open.

  She ducked out into the club proper, but halted suddenly and turned back to him. “Selene.”

  “Yeah? What about her?”

  “Is she here now?”

  Rico glanced around, then shook his head. “Nope.”

  “If she turns up—”

  “I’ll let you know.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, then stepped back behind the bar.

  Joey caught up with Cheryl again and together they headed for the exit.

  “How did it go?” Cheryl asked once they we
re outside and away from the din of the music once more.

  “The redhead likes gimlets, and she wasn’t a regular. Or, if she was, she was a recent enough one that he didn’t know her name yet.” Joey ran her fingers through her hair and gave it an aggravated tug. “Where the fuck is he, Cher?”

  “Let’s go have dinner. It’ll take your mind off things for a bit. Besides, you’re probably out of things at home to clean.”

  Joey snorted softly, but shook her head. “I appreciate it, really, but I want to go home. I want to be there when he gets home.”

  “But—”

  “Please, Cher. Just take me home.”

  It was about seven-thirty when Cheryl pulled her car into the parking lot outside Joey’s apartment. It was fully dark by then, but the street and building lights provided plenty of visibility and Joey lived in a decent part of town. She never worried about coming or going after dark.

  “Thanks for the lift,” Joey said, leaning down to look in through the passenger’s side door. “Give the wifey my regrets, okay? You know I love her cooking.”

  “Anytime, babe. Hang in there, okay? He’s bound to turn up soon,” Cheryl replied. “Hopefully with flowers. And chocolate.”

  Joey let out an anxious chuckle. “Flowers wouldn’t hurt. I’ll call you when I hear something.” She closed the car door, then stepped away from the car and watched her friend pull away before turning to head up the stairs.

  She saw them the moment she stepped onto the third floor landing: two men, standing on one of her neighbors’ doorsteps. It was a little late for Jehovah’s Witnesses, but they didn’t look the part anyway. Only one was fresh-faced, for starters. The other was older, his lined face a topographical map of aging peaks and valleys. They glanced over at her as she drew closer, but their attention didn’t linger.

  It wasn’t until she continued past that she heard a woman’s voice beyond them announce, “That’s her!”

  Joey paused, pivoting to cast a wary glance in the direction of the strangers.

  The older man turned toward her, looking her over more closely now. He wore a cheap suit, tie askew, and held a brown fedora in one hand. A badge hung on a stainless steel beaded chain around his neck.