an air of innocence.
The fact of the matter was he had caught the scent of a stranger. When Becki did not immediately answer his knock on the door, he took matters into his own hands. He followed the trail into the kitchen and then picked up Kurt’s scent as well. Since he knew things were under control, he stopped to pour himself a cup of coffee before joining the crew outside. Landon frowned as he recognized the shirt Royce was wearing as one that belonged to Kurt. But who was he to make judgments?
Kurt shook his head grumbling, “Never mind about my truck. It’s a long story.”
Landon shrugged, and then sat his cup on the patio table, “Let’s get Becki’s crate loaded and see if we can get it opened up.” Landon frowned as he looked around, “Did you move it already?”
“No, I haven’t moved it; that son-of-a-bitch was heavy. I figured you had already been here and moved it.”
“Nope,” Landon said, raising his face slightly to draw in a deep breath through his nose. The only scents he picked up were those of Becki, Kurt, and her visitor.
Royce caught Landon’s slight movement, the lifting of his face, the “sniff”. Evidently he wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. As Royce’s eyes lingered on Landon, he raised his eyebrows slightly in silent question.
Becki spun around, visually scanning the deck. How had she missed the fact that her crate was gone? “I can’t believe someone would have the nerve to walk right up on my deck and steal it,” she complained.
“I have a hard time believing that myself,” Kurt said, staring hard at Royce. “That sure is strange,” he mused. “Doesn’t that strike you as strange, Landon?” Kurt pressed, never once taking his eyes off Royce.
Landon, who picked up on Kurt’s coded message right away, moved to stand directly behind Kurt.
“How would you explain something like that?” Kurt directed his question to Royce as both men began to steadily advance toward him.
Royce stood and waited; he didn’t want to have to fight these two. Although there was no doubt he could kick their collective asses. He had a trick or two up his sleeve and could cause enough damage to Landon to at least slow him down. He really didn’t want to hurt either of them. Becki would most likely be very unhappy with him if he did.
“For Heaven’s sake, back off you two,” Becki said as she stepped in front of Royce.
Royce’s hands immediately went to Becki’s waist to push her gently aside. If Landon was not skilled enough to resist his Wolf’s desire to shift, he did not want Becki to be hurt.
Standing behind Royce now, eyes blazing, she struggled to get back in front of him. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked Royce through jaws locked shut in frustration.
Finally deciding she was not going to get around him, she shouted, “You all are starting to piss me off. You act like I’m sixteen instead of twenty-two. It’s Halloween, you idiots; the kids have been pulling pranks all week. I’m sure the stupid box will turn up. What exactly are you accusing him of anyway? And, Royce will you stop pushing me around!”
“Becki,” Royce intervened smoothly, “could I ask you to go put my clothes in the dryer?”
Had he lost his mind? Becki sputtered, “You want me to go put your clothes in the dryer, now? In case you haven’t noticed, Landon and my Uncle are--”
“That is a great idea, Becki,” Kurt agreed, interrupting her. “Go put his clothes in the dryer, please.”
“But--”
“Now,” both men said in unison.
“This is bull shit,” Becki said as she stomped across the deck and flung the patio door open wide. Spinning around to pin the three men with a lethal stare she complained, “This is total bullshit, and you know it!” She stepped into the kitchen and then slammed the door behind her, the glass literally rattled in its frame.
If Kurt had to fix her door after this, it would serve him right. Who the hell did they think they were, ordering her off her own deck? She flung Royce’s wet things in the dryer and then ran a sink full of dish water. She hated washing dishes by hand, but she was pissed right now, and could not sit still.
“How do you know Ryker?” Kurt asked as soon as the patio door slammed shut.
Royce may have him by a good eight inches and probably twenty years, but he had been trained