Beneath the Surface

High tide, low tide

Of course, as with everything going on in my life, it only took a week before the Keystones let their feelings on the matter be known.

It started when GiGi saw her former home on fire, and afterwards, Barry confirmed magic had been involved. "Left no traces of whoever did it," he said grimly when he returned to the packhouse. "No fingerprints, no DNA. They were smart enough not to leave anything that could be traced back."

Brody frowned. "They don't want Charlie or GiGi dead," he said, his voice grim. "It's bait, designed to lure either one or the other of them out."

GiGi grimaced - though she did look momentarily pleased over Brody's calling her by her preferred name. "Figures," she said. "And the moment one of us investigate, they pounce."

"Then we're not going to be lured," I said firmly. "No matter what they do, or threaten, I'm not letting myself fall into their trap." I knew from experience neither Ben nor Sarah would let me go if they got their hands on me, and I fought to contain my dread. I also knew they wouldn't give up, even though I was no longer a member of their pack. Sarah had, in her mind, unfinished business with me, and there was also Ben's unsavoury designs, which would make him that much more determined to get his hands on me. 

I decided now was not the time to tell anyone I was with cub. It wasn't that I didn't trust my pack - and I trusted them more than I'd ever trusted the Keystones - but I didn't want any of them being coerced into telling my former pack about the child I had on the way. I hated deceiving them, but it was, to me, the safest way to go about this. 

The following week, my workplace was firebombed. Again, no one could tell who had done it, but it was obvious whose hand was behind it. Once more, GiGi and I resisted the compulsion to investigate further, but I did text my boss and ask her if she was okay. She confirmed it, but I refrained from contacting her further, just in case she was replying under duress. Brody, however, came up with an idea. 

"Does she have a catchphrase she uses?" he asked, as we relaxed in the hot tub that night. "Like, say for example, something goes wrong, and she says something like, 'That's the way the cookie crumbles'?"

I frowned, absently stroking his thigh under the water. We could never go too long without contact, and right now, I needed all the contact I could get. "She does say 'That's the way the Mercedes Benz'," I said. I giggled. "She actually doesn't have a Mercedes, but her father does, so that's where she got it from."

Brody grinned. "I like that," he said. "Maybe try texting her and commenting on how things are. If she makes that Mercedes gag, then you know you're in the clear."

"Good idea," I said. I then grinned. "But I have a better one." 

"Oh?" Brody raised an eyebrow, smirking. His hands snaked around my waist, pulling me closer to him. "Do tell."

"It involves you, me and no clothes," I said, letting my hands move to the waistband of his swim trunks. "After that, I think you can use your imagination."

Brody's smirk turned to something much more primal as his hands got to work under the water, divesting me of my bikini in less time than it takes to tell of it. "Do carry on," he said, his breath hot against my skin as he started nibbling at my neck. 

"Oh, I will," I said, barely repressing a gasp as his teeth gently nipped at my skin. "Just as soon as I can remove your bloody trunks."

Brody paused long enough to help untie the elastic, and it wasn't long before I got the stupid things off. "Better?" he asked.

"Much better," I said, before we got to work on my idea. Talking became rather unimportant after that. 

I got the text from my boss the next day, but to my worry, she didn't use her unique catchphrase, instead asking me to come into Blackpool to collect what was left of my belongings. I double checked with the police - who were in charge of the investigation - and they confirmed nothing had survived the fire. Brody admitted to worry.

"It's not her," he said once I'd finished with the police. "Check your old messages from her and compare them to that last text you got; I'll wager you pounds to donuts it's one of your former pack members."

I did just that, and frowned when I saw he was right. "Yeah, she'd never use my full name," I said. "She either calls me Charl, or Charlie if she's mad at me."

"Then we're not going anywhere near Blackpool," Barry said, his face grim. "They've clearly flooded the town, and there's no chance you or Giselle won't get scooped up. We're relocating the houseboat further our; I'm not taking any chances."

"Good idea," I agreed. "Still, I'd be careful. Ben commands a strong following."

Barry's smile had too many teeth in it to be truly reassuring, and I was rather glad he was on our side in that moment. "So do we."