Grimm Wolf by Julie Steimle (well read books TXT) 📕

But Rick remained stiff, as if he was more likely to grab them and run. Jordan was getting sick of his paranoia. It was ridiculous. This was a nice German local. Clearly he was just trying to make nice.

“I don’t know,” Rick replied. “Does the reason for our argument still stand?”

This time Herr Schwitzer’s grin bent keenly. He was enjoying this exchange. His eyes sparkled. “It all depends on you. You are the newest generation. You can decide where your company value goes. And I hear rumors about you and the things you have been up to.”

“From whom?” Rick asked. He took out a pen and a small notebook from his pocket, writing on it something not quite in English. Jordan peeked at it, but could not read it. It actually looked German.

“The French,” Herr Schwitzer replied grinningly.

Rick huffed, clearly annoyed. Neither Jordan nor Emory nor Rhett knew anything about Rick’s connection to the French, but clearly this was an irritation to Rick.

“Oh really,” Rick replied as if biting out each word. “And what are they saying that can be said in mixed company?”

Herr Schwitzer winked at Jordan, “Rumors, mostly. Though I hear you are attached to a lady—”

“I am not attached to any lady,” Rick bit back.

“They seem to think differently,” Herr Schwitzer replied calmly. “They seem to have proof, if not scandalous proof.”

“The French can go stuff themselves,” Rick said. “They don’t have anything on me.”

“They have plenty on you father.” Herr Schwitzer laughed.

“Ugh.” Rick tossed up his hands. He then beckoned to a waitress, speaking brief German to her. He wanted something.

“What are you ordering?” Herr Schwitzer asked, curious.

“Food for the road,” Rick bit back. His entire body seemed to go rigid, as if ready to jump. The question was, jumping backward or forward. He had the posture of an animal preparing for a fight.

“But I invited you to my house,” Herr Schwitzer said calmly. “We can have dinner there.”

“No thanks,” Rick replied.

But Rhett and Emory rose, shaking their heads. “Now wait a minute. You don’t decide for all of us.” Emory turned to Herr Schwitzer, “Can we still see the castle, even if he doesn’t want to?”

“We can take the train and catch up to wherever you are going, Rick,” Rhett added.

Jordan nodded, agreeing. This entire conversation was scandalously interesting. He was now anxious to ask Herr Schwitzer what had happened between the Deacon family and his. The man seemed decent enough. It was Rick who was being unreasonable. Savagely unreasonable. “I’d like to see it.”

Rick turned his desperate gray eyes on him, almost mentally begging they leave now.

“I’m fine with that, if Mr. Deacon does not wish to join us,” Mr. Schwitzer genially said. “His loss.”

Rick advanced on Herr Schwitzer, standing almost nose to nose with him. “Stop this.”

“What?” Mr. Schwitzer looked appalled. “Welcoming guests into my home?”

“I know exactly what you are doing,” Rick hissed through his teeth.

“Holy Crap, can you be more paranoid?” Jordan exclaimed. “He is just inviting us to his castle!”

“Don’t you ever watch horror movies?” Rick whipped back on him.

Herr Schwitzer broke into a laugh, entirely amused at the interchange. His men, when he talked to them, laughed also. They were even wiping their eyes.

“I had heard you had gone off the bend, but really…” the German said.

Rick whipped back on him. “You bloody well know I am not crazy. Don’t play this game with them. They’re just guys. Leave them alone.”

Which was weird. Jordan, Emory, and Rhett stared at Rick. He really was having a meltdown. But then insanity probably ran in the family. His mother once had a mental breakdown from stress. Clearly it was his turn. The guy really did need a shrink.

“Stay in Cochem.” Jordan patted Rick on the shoulder. “Sleep in the car, or go on ahead. But… you need to calm down.”

Emory then turned to Herr Schwitzer, nodding as if with a bow. “Do we hike in? Or do we take a car?”

Herr Schwitzer grinned on him, squaring his shoulder. “We’ll drive in. We’re not savages.”

Rick growled, his lips thinning.

Rhett patted Rick on the shoulder also, nodding to him. “Jordan’s right. Seriously.”

They headed out to the door.

“Fine!” Rick said, grabbing out his car keys. He pulled out the key fob and squeezed it. A light flashed, but the car outside did not react.

“I think that is for your car back home,” Jordan snickered.

Rick shot him a sharp look and squeezed a different key fob. That one beeped, and a car outside reacted, lights flashing. “I’m driving though.”

Jordan stared at him.

Herr Schwitzer chuckled, passing him in the doorway. “But you’ll get lost. Hand my driver the key, and he will take you.”

For a moment, it looked like Rick would bite out the man’s throat. However, Rick let him lead as he stepped out of the establishment, pulling the fob to the rent-a-car from his key ring and handing it to the German. Herr Schwitzer grinned, chin a little higher.

It seemed a bit macho, actually, Jordan noted. Like a competition of manliness between them. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Herr Schwitzer had been sizing Rick up the entire time and found him wanting. The German seemed amused, actually, at the lack of… something about Rick. Jordan did not know what.

A waitress ran out of the kitchen and handed Rick the bag of whatever he had ordered. He sniffed at it then nodded to the waitress, handing over money in his palm. Jordan wondered what he had gotten. Maybe there was something in the dinner that he had really liked and had wanted to bring it for the next length of the trip. Though really, it was likely to go bad without a refrigerator.

“If your friend damages the rent-a-car,” Rick said as he stepped reluctantly to the driver’s side, “I’ll sue.” He pulled out his cell phone, beginning to text.

Seeing it, Herr Schwitzer chuckled. “A late night phone call?”

Rick shook his head. “Nah. A text. My old roomie at school gets anxious when I don’t check in.”

Emory and Rhett looked at Jordan who was confused. They wanted an explanation.

“Tom,” Rick said plainly, so that they understood.

Jordan closed his eyes. Damn, the man was calling his CIA friend. Was he really that worried about this stupid trip?

“Would you calm down?” Jordan hissed at him.

Rick faintly shook his head. “Can’t. You have no idea what you have just gotten yourselves into.”

“Gimmie a break,” Emory said, and climbed into the back seat of the car. Rhett nodded, snorting. “Seriously, man. Chill.”

Jordan climbed into the car after them, shaking his head.

Rick looked to the sky, silently cursing something, then stepped into the passenger side of the car.

Chapter Four

Jordan had never seen Rick more anxious. Rick could hardly sit in his seat. His eyes were twitching to the windows, to the locks on the car, to his friends in the back seat who watched this almost in fascinated horror. Honestly, Rick had always been so level headed with a few quirks. But this was an altogether different man.

“Beruhige dich bitte,” the driver said.

“What’d he say?” Rick asked, looking back to Rhett.

“You don’t know?” Jordan asked, wondering again about the German writing on that note Rick had given the waitress.

Rick shook his head. “I only know a few words in German.”

“He said calm down,” Rhett explained.

Shaking his head more, Rick breathed hard. “How can I possibly calm down?”

“We’re just touring a castle, you know,” Emory said.

“That’s what you think,” Rick murmured, looking out the window at the trees.

Emory exchanged a look with the other two as he said, “And you don’t?”

They rumbled up the road in silence, the light in the woods getting darker as the sun was lowering in the sky.

“You’re basically hostages,” Rick finally said, his teeth nearly clenched. He then said without looking back, “You guys should jump out of the car and run back to Cochem. Get on the train and get out of here.”

“Are you freaking nuts?” Jordan choked on his complete disbelief at Rick’s increased paranoia.

“No,” Rick said, peeking to the driver who was smirking. “You have no idea what you got yourselves stuck into. You were safer in Cochem because at least there you had witnesses.”

They exchanged glances.

“This is seriously paranoid,” Jordan said once again.

Closing his eyes, Rick gripped the ridge of his nose. “Please.”

“I’m not jumping from a car,” Jordan snapped.

“Why would we jump from the car?” Emory spoke up.

“Because it is just me against them, and I don’t think my friends will get here in time,” Rick murmured low.

His friends? Get there? Did Rick make a call? Jordan wondered if maybe he meant Tom Brown—though honestly Tom was just one person, even though he was CIA. And his other friends were back in the US.

“It’s going to be ok,” Rhett said, trying to calm him.

“No,” Rick shook his head. “It’s not.”

They exchanged more looks. Rick was severely losing it.

“Don’t you understand? People die around me,” Rick was near tears. His face was white and covered in sweat. “My family’s steward was murdered when I was thirteen. He had his heart ripped out.”

A shudder ran through Jordan. This is exactly what that professor had said. Why did Rick have to confirm it? But now he knew this was why Rick was terrified to go into this area. It was PTSD. He was having a panic attack.

“Another man once followed me into an Alabama black hole where…” Rick closed his eyes, cringing. “He was torn apart by wolves.”

Emory peeked to Jordan who was starting to think this side trip was a bad idea… not because of the castle visit or the weird German disagreement with Rick’s family, but because it was causing Rick to have a mental breakdown. “You mean the cultists?”

“You can call them that if you want,” Rick nodded severely. “I barely got away.”

“Oh man,” Rhett murmured. He was starting to understand too. Rick needed to go, and he needed them to go with him, not because they were in danger, but that Rick with PTSD would be impossible to handle.

“Hey,” Jordan leaned up, patting Rick on the shoulder. “It’s going to be ok. You don’t need to go into the castle.”

Groaning, Rick turned around. “I’m not worried about me. It’s you I am worried about! I’ll be fine.”

Rhett gazed dryly at him, rather insulted Rick didn’t think he could handle himself. He wasn’t freaking out over nothing like Rick was. “Oh, so you’re the tough guy here, huh?”

Rick shook his head vehemently. “It’s not funny, Rhett. I’ve been running from hunters since I was thirteen. I’ve been shot at, slashed at, and attacked monthly since my parents’ divorce. My mother was smart and got out before anybody could get to her.”

They snuck looks between them again, wondering what Rick meant by that. They knew about the crazy hunters that thought Rick was a werewolf. And about his mother’s mental breakdown. But this…. Was Rick starting to believe it?

“Nothing bad is going to happen on this trip, Rick,” Jordan said for the thousandth time.

“You need to breathe, man,” Emory said. “Put your head between your knees and—”

“I am not hyperventilating. Listen to me!” Rick growled with a deep frustrated groan.

“Why?” Rhett glancing to the other