Four Weddings and a Werewolf

Chapter Eight

Logan dropped Veronica at the car dealership and stayed outside while she went in to sign some paperwork and pay the bill. He kept his eye on the rearview mirror, searching for any sign of the stalker.

Werewolves picked up more than common scents—they sensed heightened emotions, which were translated into different smells. Arousal or attraction was sweet and floral. Disdain or anger was bitter. Fear was sharp and crisp, often burning the nose. Hostility—what Logan picked up down at the locks—smelled like wet ash, pungent and nasty.

He’d picked up the stalker’s scent at the dock, but at the dealership…nothing.

Over lunch, Logan had spotted several people he thought might’ve been the guy following Veronica around, but none of them gave off the scent of a wolf. There was the guy with dark hair and binoculars standing at the edge of the waterway, leaning against the wooden rail. There was the guy buying hot dogs at the vendor down the street. And the guy sitting on a turned-over milk crate, playing a tune on the violin. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly where the scent was coming from, but the longer he and Veronica sat at the table, the stronger the smell of anger became. When Veronica had faced him, swiveling around to play up her gorgeous assets, the unmistakable scent of jealousy smacked into him like a rancid gust of wind.

Since he couldn’t determine which of the guys at the locks was the stalker, he’d ushered Veronica out of there as quickly as possible.

There was no messing around anymore.

Logan had told Veronica he was going to send her latest note to a guy for analysis, but it wasn’t necessary. He could pick up the traces of blood from where he stood in front of the flower shop. The sick bastard had written the “love note” with his own blood.

Pulling in behind her, Logan parked on the street in front of the Veronica Vale Weddings offices. She climbed out of her car, tugged down her skirt, and slammed the door behind her. He didn’t know why they were at her office, but this was a hell of a lot better than sneaking down the street and watching her from afar. He pushed the front door open wide and held his breath as she swept by.

At the front counter, a secretary held out a puffy white envelope, the kind that people used to send pictures or small valuables. “For you, Miss Vale,” she said. “It came in with this morning’s mail drop.”

Taking the envelope, Veronica opened it up and reached inside. She pulled out a white postcard, read, and stopped.

“Logan.” Her voice shook. “Read this.”

He grabbed the card and read: You looked radiant today, but you always do. I’m more convinced than ever that we’d be perfect together. The time is coming for us to meet. I’ll see you at your sister’s wedding this weekend. Until then…

“He’ll be at my sister’s wedding.” Veronica covered her mouth with her hand.

“Not really.” Logan flicked the edge of the card. This one was written in the same fine blood print as the last one. What’d the guy do? Drain his blood and then siphon it into a ballpoint? “Your sister’s wedding is next weekend. Is he planning to meet you this weekend at the Sanchez wedding, or next weekend at your sister’s?”

“Oh.” She started down the winding hall to the right, toward her office. “I hadn’t read it that carefully.”

“As Pussy from Floral and Fauna would say”—Logan winked, though waves of anxiety sloshed in his stomach.—“there’s a simple solution to the problem.”

She unlocked her office and stepped inside. The room was spacious, with bushy ficus trees in each corner and a cherrywood desk in the center. Pink roses filling tall glass vases perched on each edge, facing two leather-wrapped chairs for potential clients to kick back and get their wedding questions answered.

“And that is?” she asked, sliding into the seat behind her desk.

“Don’t go to the Sanchez wedding and help me find him before your sister’s.”

She cringed. “I have to go. It’s the biggest event in Seattle. Two hundred and fifty people are going to be there.”

Logan leaned back in one of the chairs across from her desk. “I don’t think you understand the danger you’re in.” When she didn’t speak, he continued. “Fine. You’ll need to follow the same routine, as if you didn’t know someone was watching. But you have to be hyperaware of your surroundings at all times. If you spot anything out of the ordinary, let me know immediately.”

“What am I supposed to be looking for?” Veronica asked, fiddling with the edges of the envelope. “I don’t even know.”

“Anyone who follows you or holds eye contact a little too long is suspect. Likewise, look for someone darting out of your path too suddenly or averting eye contact when you’re holding it.”

She whacked the envelope against the desk. “So basically, look for anyone doing anything. Boy, that’s helpful.”

“I know it sounds overwhelming, but that’s why Jake hired me to help.”

When Veronica’s fingers skimmed the bottom of the envelope, she frowned.

“What is it?” he asked.

“There’s more inside.” She flipped it upside down, and a few pictures fell out onto her desk. “I didn’t realize…”

Logan slid off his chair and went palms-down on the desk. The pictures accompanying the postcard were taken at the Grady wedding. There was one of Veronica standing by Heather near the bar, though half of Heather’s body was cut out of the frame. Veronica looked to be laughing, throwing her head back as if Heather had said something funny. Another picture was of Veronica tweaking a flower pedestal before the wedding took place—the lens was focused on the round of her backside. Judging from the angle, it was taken from a seated position not far behind her. The third picture was the most alarming of all. Veronica in the parking lot, stranded in her car, right before Logan approached her about needing help.

The damn wolf had been right there, so close, and Logan had failed to pick up his scent. If he hadn’t offered Veronica assistance, how long would the stalker have waited before he made his move?

“He was there. The guy was really there. He was watching me the whole time.” Veronica brushed her fingers over the photos, studying them with a perplexed expression. “And he wants me to know he’s watching me. That’s probably the creepiest part. Who would do something like this?”

“It’s probably a disgruntled ex-boyfriend who can’t let you go.” Bending down, Logan readjusted the knife on his boot. “Any of those around?”

“Yeah, like I’d date a werewolf.” Veronica scooped the pictures into the envelope and dropped them into her top drawer. Then she pulled out a blank manila folder and dropped it on her desk. “That’d never happen.”

Logan’s heart squeezed, and he forced the wolf part of him to chill out. He didn’t want to date Veronica. Didn’t want to get any closer to her than he had to. His mother and stepfather had bonded for life, and look what happened to them. They’d loved each other, sure, but they’d also fought nonstop. When Logan reached sixth grade, they decided they wanted to roam the world without a child attached to their side. They left him to fight for his own survival, and if it hadn’t been for the Alpha of the Seattle Wolf Pack taking him in, he’d be in jail or dead. Completing the Luminary bond seriously screwed with people’s heads; his mother had put her relationship with Logan’s stepfather over her own son. There was no way he was following in his parents’ matrimonial footsteps.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I’m a little disappointed in the whole thing,” Veronica continued, flipping through her notes. “I was flattered that there was a guy out there who would care enough to send me love notes and buy me flowers. No guy had ever done that for me before.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“It’s the truth. I’m usually the one giving everything of myself for barely anything in return. I think I expect too much. That has to be the problem.” She tapped the back end of a pen against her lips. “To be honest, that was part of the reason I wanted to sleep with you. You told me exactly what to expect, one night, that was it. Although the way you left pissed me off, at least you gave me the courtesy none of my exes did.”

“Not that I’m complaining, because I had a great time with you last night,” Logan said. “But it sucks that you’ve had to give so much of yourself to losers who didn’t appreciate you.”

She smirked. “Don’t patronize me, Logan.”

“I’m serious.” It surprised him that he truly was. “The men you’ve dated before had to be losers, because a real man would treat you right and cherish you the way you deserve. A real man would stay at your side and feed you ice cream. In bed. Every night for the rest of your life.”

Where’d that come from?

Veronica gaped, the light in her brown eyes beginning to dance.

“What I meant was,” Logan said, clearing his throat, “don’t be disappointed about the love notes. If a guy is sending you anonymous letters, he’s not the one for you. The right guy will tell you he loves you to your face, and when he kisses you, you’ll know it by the curl of your toes.”

“Thanks for the advice, Casanova, but you’re not exactly an expert. How long was your longest relationship? Two days?”

He shrugged, thinking about all the girls who had meant nothing to him. But he’d never been dishonest with any of them. Never promised a future that he couldn’t give them. For the first time, he felt that he meant the words coming out of his mouth. Veronica did deserve someone who would curl her toes. A man who would tell her he loved her and mean it.

“I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t been a gleaming example of long-term monogamy.”

“Understatement of the century.” A tiny smile curled the corner of Veronica’s lips. “I knew you were a heartbreaker the first moment I saw you.”

“Is that right?”

She nodded and bit her bottom lip. “Since we’re going to be hanging out a lot together this week, it’s a good thing we’re sticking to those one-night-stand rules of yours.”

His stomach dropped as he fought to keep his eyes connected with hers. “You’re right. It’s best if we keep everything strictly business.”

“I agree.” Her gaze said something different. “I have to protect this heart of mine.”

She was teasing him, and damn if he didn’t like it.

“So what should I do about the pictures?” Veronica asked, brushing her hands up and down her arms.

“Shred them.” Logan exhaled heavily, wishing he could ease her worries. “And trust that I’ll find this guy before he gets the chance to take more.”