Masked

CHAPTER 4 | an uneasy truce

Daniel thumped his pillow and grumbled under his breath. He'd managed to fall asleep, only to wake up less than an hour later, his mind in chaos, working overtime with images of bodies littered across his valley. Each one was covered with the tell-tale black sores of Wildfire. He would not allow that to happen to his people. His pack looked to him for protection. No matter what it took, he would make sure he found out who was behind this drug and make them pay for murdering innocents.

He rose and took a shower, then wandered downstairs. His mind ran through the list of what he needed to organize, all the while grinding his teeth together and grumbling under his breath. The idiotic decree by the council that the Johnson woman be under his direct protection was going to cause more problems than it was worth. He should be in San Francisco, leading the charge on whoever was behind the deaths of the Werewolves. Instead, he had to babysit her until Trevor, one of his enforcers, arrived in Portland to take over and escort her to Nederland.

He rubbed his chin and sighed. Hopefully, the delay in going to San Francisco would not leave the trail cold for any potential leads on whoever was behind Wildfire. There would be hell to pay if it did. But first, he was on a mission in search of coffee.

He strode into the kitchen and stopped short. You have got to be kidding me. Of course, she would be here. Parker was sitting at the large breakfast bar, staring at her laptop.

Startled, Parker looked up. Her smile froze midway and turned into a frown. She turned back to the monitor and resumed typing. Her fingers moved with such speed they flew across the small keyboard. The only sound in the kitchen was the quick tapping of the keys as they made contact with the surface.

He shrugged his shoulders. They could both play that game. He headed to the elaborate coffee machine installed on one of the kitchen counters and stood in front of it, perplexed.

What the hell am I supposed to do with this?

The massive machine staring back at him resembled the high-tech contraptions he had seen in top-end restaurants and cafés. An array of knobs, dials, taps, buttons, and graphic displays adorned the apparatus. Not one of them appeared to have the words "push this button to instantly receive your coffee" on it.

He grabbed one of the green coffee cups on top of the unit and placed it where he thought it might go. Not to be outdone by a machine, he poked and fiddled with the knobs to see what they would do, but nothing that resembled coffee came forth. He let out a low growl. Then, manna from heaven, one of the metal cylinders on the side dripped water.

Yes.

He quickly moved his cup underneath to catch the coffee that would undoubtedly soon follow, and eyed the machine with a look of absolute triumph.

Without warning, the metal spout that had been dripping water sizzled, and a high-pitched squeal echoed throughout the room. What the? Hot water, which quickly turned into steam, bounced off his cup and spurted all over the place, soaking anything and everything in its path. The display at the top of the unit flashed, and a constant and irritating beep permeated the kitchen.

Daniel took a quick step back and glared at the machine.

What the hell is wrong with this thing?

Parker pushed him away. "Oh, for Christ's sake, move, will you." She reached over, pulled out the offending cup, and pushed a few buttons. The appalling sound stopped, and the room was once again silent.

He let out a breath, thankful for the silence.

Parker reached for another cup and placed it on one of the drip trays. She removed a handle from the apparatus and filled it with ground coffee beans, which were dispensed from one of the containers. After pressing it with a tamper, she locked the handle back in place and pushed a few more buttons.