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began again, this time vibrating against the chair, and the inside of her purse lit up.
     
    She reached for the phone, but she didn't recognize the number. It rang again and again. Stopped ringing. Rang again. She watched the buzzing phone for at least three minutes, trying to clear her head and decide whether or not to answer.
     
    It wasn't a family member, not that she could tell. Despite the fact that she wasn't supposed to be speaking to anyone, she had all their numbers programmed in her phone and this number didn't register as a contact. It obviously wasn't a wrong number. They'd have reached her voicemail by now and wouldn't have called back. A friend would have just left a message.
     
    But perhaps it was Parker. She'd been asleep for nearly an hour. He could have gone miles in either direction during that time. Maybe he needed her to pick him up from somewhere. She pressed the talk button. "Parker?"
     
    "No, certainly not." Her skin turned to gooseflesh at the sound of Christopher's voice in her ear.
     
    "What do you want?"
     
    "I hear young Madison had an accident."
     
    Dear God, he didn't . "Tell me you had nothing to do with it!" she choked.
     
    "No one knows who caused that accident, from what I hear," he continued smoothly. "I suspect the police will never really find out who was behind it. Too bad."
     
    "If you're behind this, Christopher, I swear, I'll—"
     
    "You'll do exactly nothing, just like you've done all along. I warned you what would happen. This is just the tip of the iceberg."
     
    "I don't know what you want from me!" she cried. "I quit, okay? I left the company, and I haven't contacted anyone. I'm staying away, just like you said to do. What else could you possibly want from me?" Do I really want to ask that question? she thought a moment too late.
     
    "Is it true, Charmaine?"
     
    "Is what true?"
     
    "Are you Mates?"
     
    "Yes, we're Mates, I told you—"
     
    "And you've Mated ?"
     
    She blushed at the connotation of his words, but a fire was growing inside her, and she quickly shrugged off her embarrassment. "We're married, actually. We went to Nevada, and we got married. I'm his legal wife now, Christopher, like it or not." Her hands shook at the force of the anger building inside her. He had taken her job and her mother and there was no doubt in her mind that he was involved with the bus accident. He had threatened to kill Parker, and if he was behind the bus accident—and she was sure he was—then he might actually try to murder her husband.
     
    When his voice came through the phone again it was softer but somehow more menacing. "And is it true that his bastard whelp is in your belly? That you've allowed yourself to be ruined by this mongrel whose family has a history of ruining our women and taking our land?"
     
    There's no way that he— .
     
    Scottie .
     
    "I'm not carrying any bastard child," she answered truthfully, raising her chin a bit.
     
    He responded with a dramatic sigh. "Tell you what, sweet sister, I'll let you slide on that little lie of yours if you help me arrange a meeting with Parker."
     
    "Why do you want to meet with Parker?" Her mouth was like cotton and she forced the words past the dryness on her tongue.
     
    "Alpha business."
     
    "Can't you just make that arrangement through the regular channels?"
     
    "I've already tried that. He doesn't seem to be available to speak with me."
     
    "Wait a minute... I thought there was a meeting already set up? I'm sure he told me there was."
     
    "I need to see him sooner. Tonight." His voice was still calm, but an urgency lurked just behind it. "One hour."
     
    "He isn't here right now, Christopher. I swear to you, I don't know where he is at the moment. I don't know if I can even find him in an hour."
     
    "I'm sure you'll think of something." A click and he was gone.
     

 
    CHAPTER NINE
     
    Parker had no idea how far he'd run when he slipped back through the garden gate. It was always strange, returning