Sealed, p.1
Sealed, page 1
SEALED
BEAR MAIL
LAYLA NASH
Copyright © 2017 by Layla Nash
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover design by Satyr Media
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
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CHAPTER 1
JACK
Jack watched the woman untangle herself from the sheets and saunter across the room to retrieve her bra from where it landed on the dresser. Despite a marathon of very sweaty, very satisfying sex, he felt empty. Adrift. The girl meant nothing. She was beautiful and confident and intelligent, funny, and a little naughty. Perfect. And yet... He didn’t care.
She caught him staring and arched an eyebrow as she held up the bra. “If we’re going to go again, I won’t bother putting this on. It’s too expensive to get ripped up.”
“If it did, I’d buy you a whole store of them.” Jack yawned and leaned back against the headboard, wondering how long the woman would linger. “But I have an early meeting, babe.”
She laughed and gathered the rest of her clothes, disappearing into the bathroom. Jack scrubbed his face and stared at the clock. Past two in the morning. He’d gone to dinner with friends and fully intended to call it an early night, but he spotted this one across the restaurant and it became a chase. A hunt. She meant nothing, really. Merely a prize. Evidence of his prowess. He hated himself for it, and her a little, but that was the beginning and end of it. His wolf wanted to hunt.
Jack rolled to his feet and stripped the sheets off. He didn’t want to sleep with her scent on his bed. Waiting until she left would have been the kind thing to do, but Jack wasn’t kind. He was a ruthless, heartless bastard who crushed any challenger. His lip curled as the phrases repeated themselves in his mind, over and over, until even the wolf believed it.
He retrieved a neatly folded set of obscenely high thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, freshly laundered in unscented detergents that wouldn’t bother his sensitive nose. He was just tucking in the flat sheet when the bathroom door opened and the woman emerged. Jack didn’t remember her name. He hadn’t even asked her last name, but he was reasonably sure she was either a Heather or a Jackie. Maybe Tiffany.
“Aren’t you efficient,” she said, close to a purr, and leaned close enough to stroke his cheek. “Don’t even wait for the help to clean up.”
“Sure.” He kissed her absently, but the heat had dissipated. No spark remained.
She made a hungry noise and tried to draw him close again, but Jack eased away and picked up the phone that called down to the concierge desk. “Would you like me to call a cab?”
“That would be great.” The woman wandered out of his bedroom and into the living room, trailing her hands across almost every surface. Jack bit back a growl. He’d spend ages cleaning up, just to purge the memory of this girl from his den.
He muttered instructions to the concierge to get a taxi there as soon as possible, then followed the woman into the living room. She studied a framed photo of him standing in a river in Montana, fly fishing, and she smirked as she held it up. “You’re outdoorsy? Really?”
“I have my moments.” Jack retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge, his teeth on edge. “I take it you don’t spend much time in the woods.”
She laughed, putting the expensive frame down, and glanced at the art on the walls. “No, I prefer the city. Rats and pigeons and tourists are bad enough, but there are real wild animals out there. Why bother?”
“Because you can actually see the stars out there.” It slipped out before he caught himself, and he hated himself more for admitting something true to the woman.
“That’s what cruises are for,” she said, and arched an eyebrow at him. She took a provocative pose, as if trying to entice him into inviting her to stay, and winked. “The Greek islands are gorgeous this time of year, or so I’ve heard. Plenty of stars there, Jack.”
The phone saved him from having to respond, and he thanked the concierge, more grateful than he could possibly express to the man. He forced a smile for the woman as he led the way to his private elevator; being in the penthouse had its perks. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“Thank you,” she said, patting his chest. She went up on her toes to kiss him, a subtle pressing of lips, and made a soft sighing noise as she retreated. All of it perfectly calculated, practiced. All artifice. His wolf grumbled. Maybe Jack wasn’t the only hunter on the prowl that night. She held up an ivory business card between two fingers, and tucked it into his hand. “Call me any time.”
He held the card only as long as it took for the elevator doors to hush closed, then tossed it into the garbage and headed for the shower. Even after thirty minutes of near-scalding water and brutal scrubbing with a ridiculously expensive loofah imported from some island didn’t rid him of the memory of her touch and scent. He stuffed the dirty sheets into the washer and stared around the living room, trying to convince himself to go to bed. The wolf remained restless, though, and after drawing on clean sweatpants, Jack paced into his office.
He meant to work, to review the latest earnings from his string of restaurants and sports bars, but instead his email beckoned. His heart leapt when he saw the unread message from her. The mystery girl who wouldn’t reveal anything about herself.
Jack poured himself a glass of aged scotch and stared at the screen, prolonging the anticipation of seeing what else she had to say. The woman sent a complaint to his PR company months earlier, and they thought it legitimate enough to forward to him. After reading the detailed—and scathing—review of his restaurants, Jack demanded they provide her contact information. And then he emailed her, posing as some lowly corporate wonk in order to get her real opinions, to get to know her. Reaching out as the CEO would have either shut down the conversation or made her laugh in his face.
He never meant it to continue as long as it had, or for things to get personal. But she was the only person in his world, real and virtual, who told him the absolute unvarnished truth. She pulled no punches. His restaurants were trashy and cheap and objectified women, his sports bars were even worse, and he was scum for promoting them as family gathering spots. All things Jack thought himself, but was too far down the road of profits to really do anything about.
The scotch warmed in his hand and slid smooth and bright down his throat, anesthetizing the pain of this stranger’s disappointment. He didn’t even know this woman—or even that she was, in fact, a woman!—but he cared about her opinion. They hadn’t talked about business in months, though, and he hoped it stayed that way. He wanted to find her, to meet her. Something about her appealed to him, and to the wolf. After all the empty nights with woman after woman, his mystery pen pal meant more than all of them combined.
Jack opened the email and rubbed his jaw as he read. An odd shiver of excitement filled his chest with uncomfortable pressure. The email went on far longer than any of her other notes; most of the previous messages were just cheeky jabs at his business acumen and manhood, flirtatious jokes about how a city guy could never survive where she lived. She didn’t know who he was, really, just some nameless accountant in Jack’s corporation, but that was enough.
Except this email gave up a torrent of words and opened a world of new topics. Apparently someone broke her heart, treated her poorly, left her for someone else. His wolf snarled in growing fury as the tale unfolded: drunk boyfriend hitting on every pretty girl at the bar right in front of her and on her birthday, an argument, a scuffle, and she ended up with a black eye when someone threw a beer bottle. The boyfriend ran off with friends to avoid the cops and left her to deal with the bill, the police, and a whole mess of questions. And when she got back to their shared apartment, she discovered he’d taken everything—television, furniture, even some of her clothes.
Jack groaned and rubbed his temples. His first instinct was to help. To get his computer wizards to figure out where she emailed from and fly there on his private jet so he could help her. Save her from that asshole and the small town in the middle of nowhere with no jobs and no schools and no future. He’d grown up in a place like that, and he knew it was like quicksand—the more people struggled, the less likely it was they’d get out alive.
He stared at the screen as the seconds ticked away on the tall grandfather clock in the corner of his office, and Jack debated what to do. How to respond. He didn’t want to scare her off.
She called herself Maggie, but he knew that wasn’t really her name. She didn’t sound like a Maggie. But he started with that, broad hands fumbling at the small keyboard on the ultra-hip laptop.
&nbs
Jack sat back. Logical, precise, and completely unsympathetic. Like he was telling one of his employees what to do. He started to delete it, then shoved to his feet to pace through the office and retrieve more scotch. It was already past three and he needed to be up for a conference call with one of his overseas investors at six. He should have gone to sleep, put aside the email until later, and concentrated on business. Those millions wouldn’t earn themselves.
He stared at the screen, his heart beating in time with the blinking cursor. He should have just walked away.
CHAPTER 2
DELILAH
I sat on the floor of the near-empty apartment, littered with trash and empty beer bottles and dust bunnies, and tried not to cry. Goddamn Andrew. I knew he wasn’t a good thing to have in my life, but in a moment of weakness, living with a high school dropout off the ranch was preferable to living alone on the ranch when I couldn’t make rent on my own. I refused to ask my brothers for help. I needed to make it on my own. Which sometimes meant putting up with things that normally I wouldn’t.
At least he hadn’t stolen my laptop or car. Yet.
I made a mental note to search for the spare key I’d kept in the junk drawer, and to get a Club for the steering wheel as soon as the stores opened in the morning.
My head still ached from the bar fight and the amount of money I’d had to put on my credit card in order to get the bar owner to let me leave and not call my big brother. And if my face kept swelling before the shifter healing kicked in, I’d have to go to the hospital, too. I spun my cell phone in my hand, debating. I couldn’t call my brothers, because they’d just say “I told you so” and I really didn’t want to hear that. Sending an email to my sort-of pen pal made me feel a little better, but it wasn’t like he could actually do anything to help. It was one of those half-drunk decisions that I regretted almost as soon as I hit Send.
I covered my face and gave myself another ten minutes to feel sorry for myself. Then I’d call Wade and figure out what the hell to do. My big brother would be able to fix everything, even if he was only a week away from a big hullabaloo of a wedding and stressed as hell about making it perfect for his fiancée. My head hit the wall with a thunk and my eyes burned anew. The damn wedding.
No date, a jacked-up face, and just outside the center of attention as my perfect big brother married his perfect girl and went off to have perfect babies. Perfect. Even though I liked Hannah and thought Wade deserved every moment of happiness, that didn’t make it easy to see all that lovey-dovey bullshit when I had nothing and no hopes of finding the same.
Just as I wanted to ugly cry over the unfairness of it all, my laptop pinged with a new email, and I sat up. My pen pal. I never expected him to email back at all, and after each message I sent him, part of me figured that would be the last time we chatted. My head pounded along with my heart as I opened the email.
Maggie – He’s an idiot. Don’t let him get you down. You’re funny and smart and you’ve got great taste, aside from not liking the company I work for. You’ll do much better than this asshole.
I rubbed my face despite the lumps and bumps and read it again. And again. Over and over. Funny and smart and great taste. All the things the boys raced to find. Not like being tall and skinny and having a big rack. The good guys all liked funny girls. If only that were true. I dug my nails into my palm and tried to pull myself together. Having a woe-is-me party wasn’t going to get me anywhere, and it just made me feel even more miserable.
Staring at the computer screen didn’t make me feel any better. I wanted to close the laptop and make a dent in the half-empty bottle of vodka across the room, but froze as I looked back at the screen. The chat window in the email program opened up, and he typed a message.
My stomach clenched as I stared at that blinking cursor and the little gray words underneath: Jack is typing.
Jack was typing.
Holy shitballs. Jack was typing.
I nearly threw the laptop across the room. He wasn’t supposed to reach out like that. Email was safe. Chat was just a step away from calling and talking on the phone, a few steps from him wanting to meet. And then he’d disappear, just like every other online date I’d found and thought shared a real connection. No one wanted to date a chick from the middle of nowhere, particularly when she didn’t have money and worked at a ramshackle inn billed as “cozy.”
Then his message appeared. Are you okay? It sounded like quite a night. And Happy Birthday.
I covered my face. Of course. It was my birthday, too. Welcome to twenty-five. Got hit in the face with a bottle and dumped by my boyfriend. I managed to laugh, shaking my head, but my fingers trembled as I typed. Thanks. I think it’s for the best. It’s just hard to pick up my pride this time of night.
I know what you mean, appeared after a few seconds. I didn’t have much of a night, either. Not as eventful as yours, though.
Something inside me relaxed as I read and re-read what he typed. I tried not to second-guess my responses, wanted to just be myself and throw caution to the wind. If he liked me, he liked me. If he didn’t—well. He lived hundreds of miles away in a big city, and I lived in Podunk, North Dakota. There wasn’t much risk of us running into each other.
So for the first time in probably my entire life, I was totally myself. Completely authentic. We chatted for at least an hour, and he made me laugh, made me forget about the misery I still had to get through. And when he said he had to get ready for a business meeting, I felt awful for keeping him up all night, even if he said it was the best night he’d had in a long time. So at least I started the day with a smile, thinking of that late-night conversation.
It lasted until someone knocked on the door, just after sunrise, and I found my eldest brother, Wade, and his fiancée Hannah on my doorstep. I tried to be surprised that they found out about what happened, and opened my mouth to ask what they were doing there, but Hannah bolted forward and wrapped me up in a hug. For a city girl, Hannah sure was strong. She nearly choked me as she said, “Oh honey, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”
Wade grumbled and shooed us inside, so at least the early spring chill in the air wouldn’t get into the apartment. Just seeing them and hearing the concern in Hannah’s voice sent me back over the edge. I couldn’t hold back tears, though I wiped furiously at my cheeks and tried to act tough in front of my brother. “I’m fine. What are you guys doing here?”
“Delilah Sanders,” Wade said, his bushy eyebrows rising. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Well, I...” I flushed as he frowned, and felt the tears welling up again.
Thank God for Hannah. She poked his side and hustled me over to the last remaining chair. “Don’t you dare be grumpy with her, Wade. Sit down, Lilah. Matt called us from the bar last night. Well, this morning. He told us a little bit about what happened there, but it looks like something else happened, too.” And she looked around at the barren apartment.
I started raking my hair back into a ponytail, exhausted and wanting a shower and a nap. Too bad I had to go to work and take over the front desk, even though we didn’t have any guests booked for two weeks. “Yeah. Andrew took off with pretty much everything.”
Wade started growling and his eyes flashed gold as the alpha bear got riled up. I held up my hands to fend him off. “Don’t say anything. Please. I really don’t want to hear it right now, Wade.”
