Saving a Wolf: Moonbound Series, Book Six

by Camryn Rhys

  It’d been almost two years since Luther had been pressed into the service of Adrian Rossi, and the only women who had ever set foot on his boat were the companions of the strange, sometimes eccentric, very wealthy clients.

  “Who did he kidnap?” Luther forced out, trying to right his world again. “There are no women on the island.”

  Maggie’s brows crinkled. “The women that he prostitutes.”

  “No.” He shook his head violently. “There is, for sure, none of that going on. Not on my island. I’d know about it.”

  She took a step toward him and he could feel the heat of her, oppressing his senses, threatening to overtake him.

  What the damn hell was going on?

  “There are women on the island. I know there are.”

  “Sure, there are women there, but they’re staff. They clean his house, they take care of the guests.”

  Maggie chewed on a fingertip and looked down at the lapping water beside the boat. “No. I’ve seen the feeds. He did the same thing in Guadalajara. One of the women who survived his last brothel told us her story.”

  Luther’s skin buzzed and he bounced on his toes. This woman didn’t know what she was talking about. He couldn’t afford to get sucked in to whatever pack of lies she had been fed. He had work to do.

  “You’re obviously mistaken. There can’t be anything like that happening on my island, or I would know about it.” He pressed past her and the place where her skin touched his seared his arm, then traveled deeper.

  Dammit. Why couldn’t he get a hold on whatever flukey lust bunny had decided to pop its head out of the ground? Every part of him wanted to grab her by the arms and hoist her up until her legs wrapped around his waist and he could bury himself inside her.

  It was fucking weird.

  Her footsteps pounded after him as he made his way back to the stacked crates. He took the gangway all in one long step and was back on the docks, pounding his way back to the stack of supplies that still had to get loaded so he could make his noon run out to the island.

  “Luther. Wait.” She skipped around him and landed in his path.

  He pulled himself to a stop and pursed his lips. “What? Haven’t you had enough story time for one day?”

  “I know you’ve cleaned up after him. Six bodies in the last few weeks, at least, and probably more before that.”

  Luther crossed his arms and glanced around the empty dock. “Yeah, well that’s the way it is down here in Mexico, sweetheart. You cross a boss like Adrian Rossi, you get handled. This isn’t Pretty Princess USA, okay? It’s the real world.”

  He tried to step around her and she jumped back into his path. “I know what the world is like. And Adrian Rossi didn’t kill any of those men for insubordination.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and Luther found himself watching the movements of her mouth. Holy hell, he needed to get laid. Too long since the last time, and he was watching a girl’s nervous movements and thinking about how much he wanted to suck on that tongue.

  Come on, Luther. Get a fucking grip.

  “I know he didn’t kill them because I was the one who killed them.” Maggie said it so matter-of-factly, with a sad turn of her eyes. “The first ones, you would’ve found in the penthouse hallway, and then there were two inside, all in one day. The other two, we killed when we broke into the security room. Less blood that time.”

  With every word she uttered, Luther’s shoulders tingled and his breath quickened. She knew the details of the murders. He shook his head.

  “You couldn’t know those things. I cleaned up those bodies.”

  “I know.” She shifted her weight from side to side. “I watched you do it.”

  “How could you…” He tried to remember the details of those cleanups. He’d had to call Diana to send hotel staff—whom she had promptly had to fire. He would’ve remembered Maggie from the cleanups if she’d been there.

  “We have a tap on his security system.” She shrugged. “I’ve been watching you for weeks now. We’re trying to find a way to get onto that island to save all the women.”

  “I told you.” He gritted his teeth. “There are no women. I would know.”

  Maggie cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “You really don’t know? You’re not just… No. You really don’t know.” She stepped toward him. “I promise you, we know that there are kidnapped young women on that island who are serving as sex slaves to this sadistic madman.”

  Luther matched her step and they were so close, he could smell the flowery scent of her short, newly-washed hair. Dammit, man. Pull yourself together.

  “And I promise you, it’s not happening.” He pointed over her shoulder, back toward the city of Choaca. “Now you can get the hell off my boat and my dock, and out of my face, and if I ever see you around here again…”

  Instead of the fear he expected to see on her face, he noticed the lines of pity drawn in around the corners of her mouth.

  He wanted to move, wanted to push her away and scream at her, but he was frozen in place, feeling the whirl of desire around them, urging him toward her.

  But Luther wasn’t going to be ruled by his baser instincts. He would call one of his exes before he would get involved with this…this…good Lord, what was she? He wanted to believe she was lying, that she was a spy from Adrian. Only she’d admitted to murder, right in front of him. If she was a spy, this was the most elaborate ruse he had ever witnessed.

  “Your threats don’t scare me, Luther.” She leaned in, and her face was so close to his, if she had just tipped her head up a bit, he could’ve kissed her.

  The closeness of her lips, of her body, made panic settle in to every joint in his body. It made him want to run.

  “Just give me a chance to prove it.” Maggie’s gaze traveled over his face, to his mouth, to his cheeks, his eyes, his forehead, then back to his lips. What was she thinking, behind those dark eyes of hers? What was her game?

  “You need to leave,” he said. “Now.”

  “Let me prove it to you. Take me out to the island. I’ll show you.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Get. The hell. Off. My. Dock.”

  Maggie’s eyebrows flashed up and down. “Fine. But I’ll be back until you agree to help me. This is too important, and you are a good man. I know you want to help me make this right.”

  He brushed past her, careful not to let any part of her skin contact his. Even still, the clothed parts of him felt the presence of her. Dammit. He needed a good fuck. Wash away whatever voodoo drug thing she had on her skin.

  “I’ve got work to do,” he spat, picking up another crate and carrying it up the dock to the gangway, and onto the boat. This time, she didn’t follow. And when he looked back at the spot where they’d stood, she was gone.

  Maybe it had all been a dream. Only, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. The thrill of being close to her. The way she enticed his mind into the exploration of her body. The first thing he would do when he got back from the island was find someone to fuck. Even if he had to go to a club looking for a hookup.

  Luther couldn’t afford to let his focus be split like this. He had to be on top of his game, with all the shake-ups in the Rossi organization over the last few weeks. He couldn’t let some little sprite get under his skin.

  Maggie slammed the screen door and stomped into the kitchen.

  “That good?” Andrea grinned, echoing Maggie’s words from earlier that morning. “He can’t be seduced.”

  Niko gave her a wink from across the kitchen where he stood in front of the stove cooking something. No idea what, but from the spicy scent, meat was at least one of the ingredients.

  “Well, it went better than it did for any of you guys.” She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest. “Is everyone here?”

  “Yes,” Alex answered, walking into the kitchen, followed by the rest of the team. “The whole place shook when you came through t
he door. We thought we should come give our condolences before we sit down and come up with another plan.”

  “He’s my mate, smartass.”

  Metal clanked on the floor near Niko. Maggie glanced at the large spatula near his foot and frowned. Niko bent and picked up the utensil and tossed it into sink before turning the flame off on the stove.

  “Let me get this straight,” Dani stepped forward and narrowed her gaze. “The oversized human meathead who’s the head of security for the monster we’ve been hunting now for months is your fucking mate? If he takes one misstep, he’ll squash your tinkerbell ass into a pancake.”

  “Look here, LA bitch. Just because I’m small doesn’t mean I can’t kick your butt all the way back to Hollywood.”

  “Hey, hey, hey.” Andrea stood and waved her hands up and down. “We’re all tired and irritated and—” She slapped her neck, squashing a mosquito. “None of us are pleased to hear that Maggie also struck out with Luther. But she also has to deal with the knowledge that he’s her mate, and he may or may not come over to our side. Give her a break.”

  Maggie could’ve kissed the Texas wolf right then and there. The truth was, she didn’t have a clue what to do next. Other than go back to Luther again and again like she’d threatened.

  They’d surveyed that island from every angle. Even if they managed to airdrop onto the island from the backside, without access to the inlet and boats, they’d never be able to get anyone off.

  “The pork is ready,” Niko interrupted. “Why don’t we eat, and take the rest of the afternoon to think about our options?”

  “There aren’t any options,” Maggie answered. “I told Luther I’d see him again every day he was on the mainland until he changed his mind.”

  “Mag is right. Without boats and Luther’s help, we don’t stand a chance of rescuing anyone.” Andrea sat at the table again.

  “If Maggie is correct, and Luther is her mate, he’ll come around.” Hannah’s small voice carried clearly from behind Donovan. She stepped around the tall blond Kentucky wolf and smiled. “This is a blessing, Maggie. Not bad news. How strong was the pull?”

  She eyed Hannah and sighed again. The quiet team member from the forests of Oregon had a point. And if her inclination of desire to strip naked and suction-cup her body to Luther’s was any indication to the level of magick involved, it was very high. “Very strong.”

  “Like, Nora-and-Rain-fuck-every-time-we-touch strong?”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve never felt the desire to be on top of someone like that before. The fact that he was a complete stranger didn’t even faze me. If there’d been an opportunity to stick my tongue down his throat, I would’ve done it.”

  And that scared the shit out of her.

  Maggie didn’t fear anything. She jumped off of buildings in her spare time for fun. Leapt out of airplanes. Rock climbed mountains. But that man…he was more thrilling than all those things put together.

  He made her feel things inside that she’d never been aware of before. And it wasn’t that she’d never been attracted to a guy or slept with someone. She had. But being in Luther’s presence made her hungry to taste him and weak in the knees all at the same time.

  Luther would come around. He had to come around. There wasn’t another way onto that island.

  Chapter Three

  Luther knocked on the door of the little shack on the narrow inlet. In the beat of time before Brooks answered, he found himself looking up the hill toward the big house.

  Damn that little sprite and her jackass questions.

  All the women, she had said. His last brothel…

  He couldn’t let her get under his skin.

  The door swung open and the skinny dude who sat behind the computer banks all day gave him a tight smile and flashed a dingy towel. “Don’t come in yet. I gotta clean this up.” He scuttled around, wiping at the floor. Dark pools turned the towel to a dirty brown color.

  “What the hell happened?” Luther stood in the doorway and put his hand back around the red stamp crate, taking the weight off the side of the rickety building.

  “My coffee… I just got surprised, that’s all.” Brooks threw another towel over the last of the liquid and surveyed the damage.

  “By me? Didn’t you see me coming from miles out?”

  He rubbed his eyes and Luther almost rolled his. They had a strict policy about sleeping on the job, and if another mess-up happened like the others and Adrian could find a way to blame staff incompetence, more heads would roll.

  Unless Maggie’s right.

  No. He couldn’t afford to think that. Adrian Rossi was all that stood between him and the Halfis, and Luther wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the security monitor.

  “I know, I know,” Brooks said, shaking his head. “It won’t happen again.”

  “If you need a replacement, I can bring Stanley back from the penthouse.”

  “Nah. I’m good.” The thin blond man leaned against the wall. “Although… You any closer to making a hire?”

  Luther put the box down near the locked storage cabinet and nodded to his employee. Brooks tossed the keys across the room.

  “It’s not easy to find the kind of guy we need.” Luther opened the door.

  “You’re not wrong.”

  There was still one box with the red stamp sitting in the locker. He locked it and threw the keys back. “I’ve got a line on a couple of guys. But I have to re-staff the penthouse first.”

  The air between them was tight, strangled. Luther stalked to the front door and something flashed on the bank of screens. He tried not to look—he never looked—but this time, he couldn’t help himself.

  A shock of black hair. A white sheath dress. And chains. His gut tightened. Did he really just see chains?

  But when he looked directly at the bank of screens, the scene was gone. No more girl, no more bondage. He never looked at the screens. They could only be seen from the storage cabinet, which was behind Brooks’ desk. He shouldn’t have looked. He was seeing things.

  “Do you miss the penthouse?” Luther leaned on the wall. The large windows wrapped around the house and showed a killer view of the beach that led down to the small dock where his boat was tethered.

  Brooks spread his arms out and chuckled. “I don’t hate living on the beach.”

  “I’m sure we’ll get you back to Choaca soon. As soon as I have a second guy to rotate here, then you can start spending half the week at home again.” Luther pressed his knuckles into the wooden wall.

  “I don’t miss it,” he said. “Drake comes down every now and then and watches things so I can go out and fish. The rest of the guys stop by on their rounds. I’ve got company. And plenty of books.”

  Luther shrugged. “I don’t like asking you to do it, still.”

  He was an American, and Brooks—born and raised in Nebraska—nodded his understanding. Adrian Rossi would always get away with how he treated his people in Choaca. Or wherever he had been before. Rossi wasn’t Mexican himself, but he knew how to grease the wheels well enough, he’d always get away with anything he pleased.

  But they never spoke the words aloud.

  Until a little sprite named Maggie came onto his boat and blurted out all the things that had always bothered him about needing Adrian Rossi.

  “I have one more crate.” He pushed off the wall and walked out into the sunlight. He had to stop thinking about Maggie. For his own sanity.

  “You can leave the rest on the dock,” Brooks called after him. “I’ll come down with the dolly.”

  “You know I have to put the ammo in the closet.” Luther grabbed the rope on his gangway and turned back to face the shack. From the beach, it looked like any normal oceanfront inlet. A little ramshackle stilted house off the long dock, a small beach in a round with clear, blue water lapping along it. It wasn’t until a guy really started looking that things seemed off.

  All the cameras on the dock were visible, and at points every five hundred y
ards or so, there was a pole with a big light on top that held another camera. The lights were almost always off, but the cameras were always on, and they circled through every visible inch of land on the beach and fed both the security shack and the penthouse security room. Mostly, they watched the water.

  Rossi would deploy his private security—the ones who lived on the other side of the island—if they saw anyone even approaching the perimeter in a fishing boat.

  The man took his luxury and privacy seriously.

  Luther grabbed the last red stamp crate and walked off the boat. When he looked up the hill toward the big house, Maggie’s words rang in his ears again. His last brothel…

  The muscles in his arms tightened and his shoulders knit together. She had to be wrong.

  Brooks was waiting with the storage door open and Luther delivered the ammunition. While the other man locked the door, he allowed himself to look straight at the screens.

  The setup was surprisingly similar to the one in the Penthouse, only the feeds were all different. He’d been up in the security room enough to have those ones memorized. Each of those screens rotated to a different camera angle every five seconds, but there were fewer angles up there. None from inside the house. None from the back of the island.

  Luther had never been to either the main house or the back of the island—where they did the hunting.

  But these cameras showed everything. He stayed a beat longer, waiting for all the cameras to rotate through, but there were so many angles, he couldn’t keep looking.

  Brooks took his seat in front of the bank and Luther walked around to stand by the door.

  Off to his right were the living quarters, with the deck off the side, facing the west. For sunsets, Nathan had always said.

  But Nathan was dead now. Luther had cleaned up his friend’s body from Adrian’s penthouse three weeks back. Clean shots, all, but deadly.