Lup Teren (Wolf Land Series Book 1) Read online

  “Whatever you say, Sir,” she jibed making them both laugh.

  “Did you get the package I sent for you? It should have arrived by now.”

  At his statement, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. The man was always giving her gifts, gifts she didn’t want or need. She’d be happy if he’d take a week or two off of work and visit her in the Big Apple.

  “No more presents, Dad. We’ve discussed this before. I have my own money and my own flat. Stop sending me unwanted sh…stuff.”

  “I’ll have none of that, Raina,” he scolded, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

  “Sorry.” She closed the fridge door and riffled through the stack of take-away menus that had accumulated on the granite breakfast bar. “What have you gotten me this time?”

  “Something you need.” He paused as his secretary, Gretchen’s, voice came over the office’s loudspeaker. “I have to go, darling. I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”

  “Ta, Dad.” The silence of her flat mocked her and she wished they lived closer. The Atlantic was definitely not a pond.

  Thirty minutes later, dinner was delivered piping hot as usual. Andy, her regular delivery person, always made sure to get her orders to her quickly. Inhaling the mouthwatering aroma, she grinned. During the past four years, she had developed an enormous appetite that never seemed to dissipate, no matter how much she ate. Thank goodness her metabolism had increased due to her intense workout schedule. And at the moment, hunger was nipping at her with fierce teeth as she hunkered down on her black leather sofa with a set of chopsticks and an ice cold diet soda, waiting for the commercials to finish.

  The tantalizing fragrance of shrimp and chicken Pad Thai taunted her stomach causing it to complain loudly. Her first taste of the spicy concoction was always the best. The sauce coated her tongue making her moan. Whoever created the dish should have been made king or emperor or…whatever.

  On her fourth ravenous bite, there was a loud knock at the front door. Damn it! Why did she always get interrupted while she was feeding her face?

  “I’ll be right there,” she yelled, resting her to-go container on the coffee table next to the television remote and half-empty soda can. The person knocked again as she yanked the door open. “Keep ya damn knickers on. I said I’ll be right…” Her statement stopped in midsentence as the handsome man on the other side of the door came into focus. Unable to form a coherent thought that didn’t involve the words…bed and…now, Raina gulped, blinked several times, and then swallowed once more.

  “Sorry, I did not mean to disturb you,” he blushed. “Are you the lady of the house?” Slowly, she nodded her head in the affirmative, the action causing stray tendrils of straight black hair to brush the tops of her shoulders. “I have a delivery for you,” he informed, holding out a plain brown, padded shipping envelope with her name and address neatly written on it. Timidly, she took the object from his outstretched hand. “Sign, please.” The electronic tablet was shoved at her so she could sign using the attached stylus pen.

  Unable to look him in the eyes for fear of hyperventilating, she concentrated on placing her signature on the tablet’s screen.

  “Thank you,” she said nervously, turning the item over in her hands.

  The mouthwatering specimen bent slightly. His 6’2” form blocking the view of the hallway behind him. Jet black wisps of stylishly trimmed hair fell over one sparkling blue eye rimmed with thick, ebony lashes, nestled in perfect olive skin. Surprisingly, Mr. Delivery-Guy leaned toward her and she swore he sniffed her hair as he did, but she couldn’t be sure.

  “Do not mention it, Miss,” glancing down at his electronic tablet he then added, “Jacobs…Raina Jacobs.” His slight European accent tickled her ears in a pleasant way.

  Her cheeks heated immediately as she hurriedly closed the door, leaving the tall, handsome, football-player-sized delivery man leering at her front door. Jeez! She was such a geek.

  Several minutes later, she sat back on her couch and began eating her now lukewarm dinner. Fortunately, she didn’t mind. It tasted just as good. As her chopsticks entered her gaping mouth, her cell phone rang. Again.

  Rolling her eyes in silent protest, she picked it up saying, “Hiya Dad. I just got it. Thanks.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “I’m not sure,” she replied, eyeing the nondescript parcel.

  “What do you mean you’re not sure?”

  “I haven’t opened it yet. I was eating dinner.”

  “Dinner can wait. Open it,” Richard ordered. “Quickly.”

  “Dad,” this time she didn’t bother to hide her annoyance or her Cockney. “I’ll open it in a minute. Why are you causing such a palaver?”

  “Just humor an old man,” he answered equally annoyed. At least she knew where she inherited her stubborn streak.

  “Fine,” she groaned, reaching for the envelope and tearing open the perforated edge on one end of it, a soft rattling sound came from inside. With deft fingers, she found an opening in the seam, pried it open, and tilted the package on its side pointing it toward her awaiting hand. An antique locket with a symbol of three long lines engraved in the metal, she guessed was either silver, white gold or platinum, fell out.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s lovely,” she purred, admiring the heavy trinket spinning slowly as she held the thick chain it was attached to in midair. Shiny metal gleamed under the recessed lighting. “What’s the occasion? My birthday isn’t for another three months.”

  “Do I have to have an occasion to give my daughter a gift?”

  She thought about it for a moment before saying, “I guess not. It truly is lovely. I’ll wear it to my next high-class luncheon at work.”

  “No,” her father insisted, “wear it all of the time.”

  “Why?”

  “Humor me.”

  “You said that already,” she reminded teasingly.

  “Can’t you ever do as you’re told?”

  “Can you?” her mocking tone clear.

  He sighed. The frustration in the simple sound making guilt rear its unwanted head.

  “Raina.”

  “Okay,” she surrendered. “I’ll wear it always, but it better not turn my neck green,” she taunted playfully trying to ease the growing tension.

  “I promise it won’t,” he reassured with a barely-there chuckle. “It’s been in your mother’s family for centuries. It once belonged to your great-great-great grandmother. Now, it’s yours. Treat it well.”

  “I’ll take extremely good care of it,” she answered sincerely.

  There was a long pregnant pause on the other end before Richard finally spoke. “Why don’t you catch a late flight to London tonight?”

  “Sorry, Dad. I have several big articles I’m working on at the paper right now.”

  “Come on,” Richard’s voice audibly tensed. “We haven’t seen each other in…forever.”

  “I know, but…”

  “Raina,” Richard interrupted making her hackles rise, “can’t you visit your father when he misses you? I know you’ve got vacation time available.”

  His sudden and unexpected insistence, didn’t sit well with her. It wasn’t like him to push his own agenda. Suspicion settled over her like a wet blanket smothering her happiness.

  “Something is wrong,” she blurted, a bit louder than intended.

  Another long pause came right before he calmly stated, “Nothing is wrong.”

  He was lying. Raina could hear it in his voice.

  “You’re lying. I can hear your voice quivering. What’s going on?” she paused waiting for him to respond. “Talk to me.”

  Gretchen could be heard in the background again. Completely ignoring her question, he whispered, “I have to go. I love you, sweetheart. Remember that.”

  “Sure, Dad. I love you too. I’ll chat you up tomorrow, yeah?”

  Hesitantly, he added, “Yeah.” Then the line went dead.

  As much as she tried, Raina couldn�
�t shake the sinking feeling that settled in her gut like a bad batch of Moo Shoo Pork. Her father had been her rock for as long as she could remember. Even after she was attacked in the park and lay mangled in the hospital, he never showed any signs of fear or doubt she would survive.

  Not even when several specialists told him she had severe brain swelling and massive internal hemorrhaging had he lost hope. Richard Jacobs, owner and CEO of Jacobs Industries, a leading prescription drug manufacturer in the Western Hemisphere, never flinched or batted an eyelash. Never lost his cool or his optimism. His daughter would recover. And he was right.

  “Nothing is wrong,” she kept whispering, trying unsuccessfully to convince herself that it was all in her head. All the while, her eyes were still fixed on the glowing display screen of her smart phone. Her mind replaying their last conversation.

  Quite annoyingly, undulating waves of nausea rose in the pit of her stomach. Ominous shadows covered her thoughts. Needless to say, her appetite quickly dissipated.

  Stowing the rest of her dinner in the fridge, she lumbered down the narrow hallway to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stripped down to her birthday suit. Automatically adjusting the water temperature before she stepped inside the enclosure, slowly easing under the soothing spray allowing it to calm her unsteady nerves.

  It was all her overly active imagination’s doing. The bloody thing always went in the direction of something sinister. She chalked it up to her journalist’s apprehensive nature and nosey tendencies. That was it. She was positive.

  Chapter Two

  It was 6:30 a.m. when the alarm clock blared. She was exhausted. Getting only a couple hours of sleep, the rest of her night was plagued with nightmares of wild dogs ripping people to shreds in front of her, taunting her to join them. Several times, in her dream, she did. The metallic taste of copper still lingered on her tongue. It was disturbing to say the least.

  Mechanically, she hit the snooze button, but didn’t close her eyes as was her habit. Instead, she lay staring up at the ceiling wondering what the hell was going on. After only five minutes, she climbed out of bed, head throbbing as a migraine the size of a Buick descended.

  Perfect!

  Agitated and needing her morning fix, she temporarily bypassed the bathroom, making her way to the kitchen and found her favorite loose tea leaves her father had started supplying her with when she awoke in the hospital after the accident. At first it was a bit hard to take, but in time she grew accustomed to the slightly tangy aftertaste and now rather enjoyed the faint biting flavor it yielded.

  Her father swore the medicinal qualities of the tea would make her immune to colds, flues and help strengthen her metabolism since she’d often worried about her weight. As by instinct she found the kettle, filled it with water then set it on the stove to boil. It took only a few minutes before the kettle sang out it was ready.

  Two cups later, she was ready to start the day. Her body felt invigorated and her temples no longer ached. Miraculously, she felt like her old self once more.

  Now that her headache was gone, it took less than thirty minutes to shower, shave, wash, blow dry, style her hair, and adorn a pair of dark-washed jeans, white button-down blouse, black blazer, and calf-high black boots. She wore no make-up, not even lip gloss, but was confident she didn’t need it.

  “That’s as good as it’s gonna get.” Raina snickered at her reflection in the medicine cabinet’s mirror. Cheeks sporting a healthy glow like she’d just come from a morning run.

  Ten minutes later, she was outside of her building rushing toward the tube station to catch a ride to work.

  “Hey! Raina!” a high-pitched female voice called to her as she crossed Seventh Avenue. “Slowdown,” the woman pleaded, four inch stilettos clicking and clacking as she approached.

  “Sorry,” she lied, eyeing the tall, slender redhead quickly striding toward her wearing an intimidating navy power suit. Brown, patent leather briefcase clutched securely in one hand, a Starbuck’s coffee carry-cup in the other.

  In Raina’s opinion, Janet Tate cared more about looking fashionable than preventing feet or back injuries. It was also this fact that made her the envy of every woman at their newspaper office. It was also probably the reason she was hired as editor-and-chief of the minuscule, incredibly old paper.

  “I’ve been trying to catch you for the last block and a half,” Janet huffed, holding her sides like she’d experienced a cramp. “I thought I recognized you.”

  “I didn’t hear you.” It wasn’t a lie. Her brain was still being accosted by flashbacks of her nightmare.

  “Care for some company?” The look in Janet’s eyes made her wary.

  “Why not,” she answered in a clipped tone as she led the way through the dense crowd, her boss hot on her heels.

  “Do you live close by?” Janet inquired struggling to keep pace. “I’ve never seen you around here before. I live in that building over there.” She pointed to a fifteen story building at the far corner facing the park. The one Raina had lived in for over three years. “I’ve lived there for a few months. It’s nice.” Janet graced her with a warm smile. “Expensive, but nice.”

  Raina smiled back, nodding her head toward the general direction of her flat before informing, “We’re in the same building.” For some unknown reason that fact made her hackles rise. She didn’t believe in coincidences.

  “Where exactly…” Janet paused uncomfortably, “I mean what floor are you on?”

  Deliberately, Raina ignored the question. “So, how do you like working at the Gazette?”

  The redhead shrugged her shoulders dismissively. “It’s alright. The paper needs a little sprucing up, but once we build a loyal reader base I’m sure revenue will soar.”

  Raina smiled then, a real smile. Maybe the woman wasn’t so bad after all. “I’m glad you see the potential.”

  Janet blushed at the compliment. “I love your English accent,” her editor said, choosing to change the subject this time.

  “Cheers.”

  “By the sound of it, you haven’t lived in the states too long.” Raina shook her head causing Janet to smile. “I’ve always wanted to have an English accent. It makes everything sound so distinguished.”

  Raina chuckled, relaxing her posture. “True, you can be a right idiot and still sound posh when you have a British accent.” They both laughed as they continued their trek toward the tube station.

  *****

  “Don’t give me grief, Harry.” Raina threw the stubby, #2 pencil against the iPad on her extremely unorganized desk.

  “I’m not,” the man blustered. Harry Smith, aka Harry the Weasel, was her source and a proper wanker as well. He’d promised her a juicy tip on the recent arrest of a local sports celebrity, but wanted more money to close the transaction. She was definitely pissed. “I’ve told you. I can’t tell you over the phone.”

  “This is totally out of order,” Raina huffed, feeling the tingle of a slow-building headache forming. “We’ve done telephone interviews before, Harry. It’s never been a problem.”

  “Well, it’s a problem now.”

  Somehow, she was able to blow out a loud, calming breath before she asked, “Fine. Where do you want to meet?”

  “Staten Island Ferry. Midnight.”

  “No way.” She was starting to lose what little patience she possessed. “I’ll meet you somewhere with more people. How about the coffeehouse on Lexington? They’ve got a tasty shepherd’s pie.”

  “Sorry, sugar, but I don’t want to take the chance of someone seeing us together. After all, I have a reputation to maintain.”

  Fearing the F-bomb catapulting toward the surface would cause her to lose the interview, Raina threw back her head in frustration, knowing full well the man had her by the bollocks. If she had any bollocks, that is. She needed this story like a junkie needed their next fix.

  “You win, me ole mate. Staten Island Ferry at midnight. Don’t be late, ‘cause I ain’t waitin’ any longe
r than necessary.” Her Cockney even more pronounced with tension.

  “I understand, hot stuff,” Harry chuckled. “See ya.”

  “See who…where?” Janet questioned from the opened doorway, black-rimmed glasses perched high on her nose.

  “I’ve got a proper lead on a story. My source is meeting me tonight at the pier.” As she watched, her editor’s eyes narrowed into thin slits.

  “Is that wise?”

  The clipped query startled her. “Of course it is. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” Janet’s eyes slowly returned to their normal size before interjecting, “You do remember you’re a woman, right?”

  “Huh?”

  After a long, drawn-out sigh, her boss adjusted her glasses to a more chastising position at the tip of her nose before requesting, “Take one of the guys with you, just as a precaution.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Raina huffed out much too quickly than she would have liked.

  “I’m sure you can, but as a smart, modern woman who listens to the news I suggest…no…change that…as your boss…you will take someone else with you.”

  Raina’s temper flared as she stared at the woman who was basically calling her a damsel in distress.

  “It’s not necessary. I’ve got a canister of pepper spray and a body that might as well be registered as a deadly weapon,” she smirked feeling empowered. “I don’t need someone with me. They’ll just slow me down.”

  “This isn’t up for negotiations, Raina.” Janet stood straighter, hands on hips, glaring down at her with another thin-lipped frown. “Take someone with you or kiss your story goodbye.”

  Glaring angrily, she managed to mutter, “Are you joking?”

  The other woman glared back. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  Raina sighed. “No. No, you do not.”

  Janet’s frown was immediately replaced with a grin. “Good. I’ll let Stan know he’ll be accompanying you tonight. You guys can handle the details.”

  Bitch.

  *****

  “Stan, stop making so much noise. You’ll scare away my source.”