Stoneface

Chapter Two

Jonathan stared at her with deep, dark emerald eyes full of passion. “I am going to claim you, woman. You belong to me.”

Shelaine wanted to resist but her body said otherwise. She felt moisture pooling between her legs as her own hunger grew. That’s when Markham growled in her ear. “And I am going to claim you, too. By the time the sun arises, you will be filled with our seed and begging for more.”

Her mind tried to rebel, but the rich, musky scent of the two shapeshifters was more than her senses could take. She fell into Jonathan’s arms as Markham reached beneath her dress and ripped her panties off her. His fingers plunged into her soaked pussy as—

Gwen’s computer made a whooping noise, pulling her out of her writing the love scene as Morticia Addams’ voice announced, “Mail’s in.” She grinned and switched over to her mail program. That special alert meant e-mail had arrived from Tim.

Read it, loved it! Can I have your baby now, pleeeeease? Kissy-huggy! - TimE.

Gwen nearly snorted coffee through her nose while reading Tim’s e-mail. That will teach me to drink and read. She set her mug on her desk before typing her reply, all thoughts of writing the impending fuck-fest between horny wolf shifters Jonathan, Markham, and their main squeeze Shelaine driven from her mind.

I think I have the wrong parts to interest you, babycakes, but I’m glad you liked it.

Snugs and Hugs,

Go-Go.

She tapped send.

Gwen drained her coffee and turned to get up. Before she did, she stared at her table, where she’d left the five-pound box of travel and tourist brochures from the Rapid City area that had arrived in the mail the previous afternoon. She had to stand in line for twenty minutes with the claim note from her post office box, waiting behind a rather smelly guy who apparently never made the acquaintance of deodorant. Or soap.

Or a shower.

Amy’s been busy. Not only had Amy included brochures, but a spiral notebook with page upon page of handwritten notes, dated and everything, with interesting tidbits and helpful information not included in the brochures. And two CDs of digital pics Amy had dumped off her camera onto her laptop and burned for her.

Amy hadn’t called her in the past few days, but Gwen didn’t worry. She was probably enjoying her “downtime,” if that’s what Amy insisted on calling it. At thirty-nine, Amy was the eldest of the three siblings and seven years older than Gwen, the baby. As sisters, they’d spent a lot of years not very close. Gwen and their brother, Liam, had always been super tight. Amy, not so much with either of them.

When Liam was diagnosed with MS five years earlier, it brought their whole family together.

Well, as much as their family could ever be together. Gwen’s relationship with their parents had been strained since her teenage years for a variety of reasons. Now Amy lived with their parents and Liam ten minutes away from Gwen, helping them out. Never married and no kids, Amy had volunteered to sell her house and move in with them after Liam got sick.

Gwen owned her house, courtesy of the divorce judge decreeing Dickweed had to hand it over to her as per their prenup because he cheated. It wasn’t uncommon for Amy to spend a night or weekend there with her when she needed to escape their parents, or for Liam to come over for an overnighter or day visit to hide from their mom.

Gwen didn’t mind pitching in and helping at their place, except when her father started in on her over her choice of ex-husband, the failure of her marriage despite it being Dickweed’s fault, her career writing “trash” books, and her failure to attend church on a regular basis like her “good” big sister. He constantly threw Amy up as the example Gwen should aspire to. Gwen didn’t blame Amy for that, but it had caused hard feelings in her for years, with only Liam there to understand and support her. Their mom always took their father’s side.

Self-preservation, she supposed. If she’d had to share a bed with David Oxford every night, she’d use every survival tactic she could latch on to, including alcoholism, if necessary.

Thank god for big brother.

Gwen was about to finally get up when another e-mail from Tim arrived.

I love you for your great head…eh, brain, Go-Go girl, so you absolutely have the right parts to interest me. ;) - TimE.

Laughing, Gwen shook her head and walked to the kitchen. If only he wasn’t gay with a boyfriend. Lucky bastard. Why can’t I find a guy like that in real life?

Her cell phone rumbled out the attack theme from Jaws.

Eyeing the Jack Daniel’s bottle with longing, she answered the call. “What’s up, Dad?”

“Have you heard from your sister?”

“Technically. I just received a huge box of research material she shipped me from Rapid City. Why?”

“Your mother left three voice mail messages for her yesterday, and she hasn’t returned any of them.” Gwen hadn’t been over to her parents’ house in two days. Liam assured her he was fine and would call her if he needed her to come help or run interference for him with their parents. They’d had a blast last weekend at the book signing.

Gwen closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Yeah, no shit, she’s probably enjoying her peace and quiet. “I’m sure she’s busy, Dad. She’s got meetings, too.”

“According to the agenda she left, her meetings ended three days ago. There’s no reason she should be busy.”

Gwen didn’t necessarily believe that, but didn’t want to rat Amy out. She opted to feign ignorance. “What?”

“Your mother has a question about one of Liam’s prescriptions, and we can’t get ahold of her.”

“Did you call her hotel?”

His tone took on indignation. “She lied about where she was staying. They have no record of Amy Oxford on their reservation records.”

That wasn’t Gwen’s first thought. She probably lied about who she was staying with. But the lack of a return call did worry her. “I’ll try her myself.”

“Well, if you get in touch with her, tell her that she’s got her mother worried, thank you very much. I would expect this kind of irresponsible behavior from you, not from her. Something must be wrong.”

“Dad, I’ll—”

He hung up, cutting her off.

She walked over to the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, a smaller one still half full from a Christmas party five months earlier. She uncapped it and dumped it into the sink. At this rate it was too tempting. She’d never been anything more than an occasional recreational drinker despite ample legitimate reasons over the years.

This latest blowup could really make her want to start.

She called Liam’s cell. He answered using a Humphrey Bogart voice. “How ya doin’, shweeheart?”

Gwen giggled. Her partner in crime. “Hey, bro. How’s it hanging?”

“Long and low as always, baby sis. What’s up?”

“Dad’s freaking out. I figured I’d better call you and get the accurate story.”

He sounded aggravated. “I told Mom I had the information about my scripts. She insisted on calling Amy anyway because she hadn’t called home in a couple of days. They keep tabs on her like freaking prison wardens. I’m not worried about her.”

“Ah. I thought that might be it. Maybe she just wanted extra downtime.”

He laughed. “Probably more like up and down time.”

“What?”

“Hold on.” It sounded like he put his phone down, and a moment later he returned, his voice lower. “I wanted to shut my door so Mom doesn’t overhear. I think Amy was meeting a guy out there. Which would explain why her name didn’t show on the hotel register.”

Suspicion confirmed. “We think alike, bro.”

“I couldn’t say that for fear of blowing her cover, you know? What am I supposed to tell them? ‘Hey, don’t worry about her, I think she’s just getting her freak on.’ I think not.”

Gwen burst out laughing. “Yeah. Dad would threaten her with the convent again.”

“I haven’t managed to convince him that one, we’re not Catholic, and two, she’s an adult.” He sighed. “Can you come spring me tonight? Please?”

Another guilty pang. Except for the fact that she’d want to kill her father, she would have volunteered to live there to help take care of Liam instead of Amy. “Will they let you out tonight? Are you feeling okay?” He’d almost been hospitalized over a kidney infection a few weeks earlier. She’d got him to the book signing only because he snuck out while their mother was out making her regular grocery store trip and their father was out playing golf. Liam waited to call their mom until after Gwen had safely spirited him away for the day.

“Just, please, come take me to your place for a couple of nights. I’m having a good week. I can move around okay. You saw me on Saturday, I feel fine. Two or three nights, please? You can order me a hooker. Or at the very least a damn pizza.”

Gwen laughed. No way in hell could she tell him no. “Be ready to run at three. Toss your bags out the window.”

“You are such a good baby sister. I’m willing my Star Trek collection to you, you know that, right?”

“Even Malibu Worf?”

The old joke never failed to make him laugh. “Malibu Worf, Malibu Data, anatomically correct Q, the whole damn crew.”

“Okay. You break it to them, and I’ll slow down on my way past so you can jump in.”

“See you at three.”

She looked around. Nothing needed cleaning, but she’d have to rearrange the living room a little so he could easily navigate in his wheelchair if he needed to use it. He’d sleep in the downstairs office she rarely used. The comfortable queen-sized Murphy bed folded down from the wall and was easy for him to get in and out of. She’d had the downstairs guest bath modified a couple of years earlier, after his diagnosis and before her divorce from Dickweed, so it opened into the office with a door wide enough for a wheelchair and configured so Liam could use it without assistance. She fingered her phone and decided to send Amy a text message instead of calling.

Pls call or txt me or Li. M&D going batshit. We won’t rat u out, promise.

Hopefully that would get some sort of response.

If not, she wouldn’t get a moment’s peace.