Head Hunter (City Shifters the Pack #3) - Layla Nash Page 0,11

dosed me with something. If I’d had the money, I definitely would have.

But I didn’t have money, so I put the thought out of my mind. At least I escaped unharmed. There was no telling how many other people or things those people kept in their basement. Maybe I needed to call the police?

I pulled the car over and covered my face with my hands, shaking too hard to do anything but cry as I sat there. I gulped air and it still wasn’t enough; I hyperventilated and my vision darkened around the edges and I knew I was going to pass out. Knew I was going to just pass the fuck right out in my car on the side of a busy city street. I at least managed to take the keys out of the ignition, so a cop couldn’t ticket me for some stupid reason, and struggled to hold onto sanity and consciousness.

There had to be a reasonable explanation. Had to be. Things like that didn’t just – happen. Hallucinations made the most sense. It wasn’t like werewolves and witches existed in the real world.

Maybe they were movie people and were practicing special effects?

I shook my head and gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles ached. I needed to get my shit together. Obviously something had gone wrong. Just as obviously, I was never going back or speaking with any of them again. I could figure out whether to report them to the police or... something, later. Once my mind was right and I stopped shaking and feeling hysterical.

My phone rang and I jumped, banging my knees against the steering wheel. I fished it out of my bag, fumbling around as my fingers refused to cooperate, and stared at the number on the screen. I tried desperately to remember what area code Evershaw had called from. My vision blurred as tears surfaced. I really didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t. I wanted to go hide in my closet, like I had when I was younger and there was too much noise and chaos in the house.

I steeled myself to answer, though. I couldn’t afford to alienate a real client, and chances were it wasn’t the Evershaws. My voice still wobbled as I answered. “Hello?”

“Where are you? You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago to receive some deliveries and start directing where they drop off the plants.” Geordie, one of the managers at the sanctuary, snapped at me like I’d deliberately fucked up his day. “What the hell am I paying you for?”

“I told you I had another client appointment this morning,” I said as calmly as I could. I wanted to turn the car around and head straight to my apartment so I could pack a bag and flee the city. Maybe starting over on the West coast would be a good option. Or Canada. Maybe I could emigrate to Canada. Surely they needed habitat specialists, with all the animals running around up there. The whole place was practically a habitat. “I can head your direction later this afternoon to evaluate what was delivered. Your construction foreman has the schematics and notes I provided yesterday, though, so there certainly shouldn’t have been any confusion on where the plants were going. Surely he was prepared?”

A rather laden silence answered, and I resisted the urge to smirk to myself. Of course not. It was easier for Geordie to blame me than actually talk to the foreman. The foreman was just as likely to lie about it, though, since he didn’t like having to take orders from a girl architect. I liked the other owners of the sanctuary far better, but they were primarily financial backers, while Geordie was in charge of the day-to-day operations. Ms. Bridger was reasonable and personable, and much easier to talk to.

Geordie didn’t strike me as someone who actually liked animals even a little bit.

“Get here fast,” he muttered. “I can’t have all these plants sitting around. We’re getting more deliveries tomorrow and if these aren’t moved...”

“I’m hardly in a position to move all of them by myself,” I said, still struggling to sound reasonable and calm. “Perhaps –“

“There’s a hand-truck,” he said. “You’ll be fine. But be quick about it. I’ve got a business meeting here at four that I have to prepare for; I don’t have time to babysit you and double-check your work.”

I checked my watch and swallowed a scream of frustration. Only the fact that I believed in