Pack Wars Complete Box Set: Paranormal Menage Werewolf Military Heroes

by Vella Day

  Fifteen minutes into her stakeout, headlights approached, and she crouched down, her back to the driveway. The light shifted, forcing her to look over her shoulder. The vehicle was turning in. Crap. Who was it? Not Mrs. Daniels. She was in hospice care. Mac held her breath, chancing one more peek. The car door slammed shut and the hairs on her neck bristled. He was a werewolf.

  Footsteps sounded on the slate walkway. Curiosity won, and when she chanced another look, her heart dropped to her stomach. The straight shoulders and silver hair reminded her of one man—Paul Statler.

  When the front door opened, she lifted her camera and snapped a few photos, hoping their voices would cover the click. Initially, Mac thought she’d stay long enough to get a feel for the place, but now she wanted to wait around until the new arrival left. Having a facial photo would confirm the visitor was the head of the Colter organization.

  She sat on the ground and waited. She straightened, her mind racing. If she got his license plate number, she could ask one of her coworkers in Indiana to run the plates. Duh. Greg Bosak had connections with law enforcement all over the county.

  She rose, aimed the camera on the window, and zoomed in. Unfortunately, the new arrival had his back to her. Damn. It was as if he knew she was there. If that were the case, she needed to get out of there pronto.

  She slipped out of her hiding place. It was getting late and she didn’t want to get home after the men. They’d hog-tie her for sure.

  Keeping low, she stepped behind the car and photographed the license plate.

  Time to leave.

  She’d taken no more than three steps when a hand clamped over her mouth and an arm wrapped around her waist, preventing her from moving. Alarms sounded in her body. It was another werewolf. But it wasn’t Sam or Brandon.

  Fuck me. I’m doomed.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “How do you want to handle this?” Brandon asked.

  When they’d gone to John Hood’s home, Brandon had shifted first. After giving the all clear, Sam had jumped the hedge. This time, Brandon didn’t want to make the same mistake of thinking no shifters were near. He still couldn’t figure out how he hadn’t sensed those three wolves in the first place.

  “Let’s check the area first,” Sam suggested.

  They walked around the fenced area of Carl Hampton’s house twice to make sure there were no Colters. When they didn’t detect any, Sam insisted he go first.

  “Check everywhere thoroughly,” Brandon said.

  Sam held up his middle finger and shifted. Brandon decided to wait until they knew there was no hoard of wolves waiting for them. He peered through the fence and spotted Sam circling the home. With the way he was rushing around, he must not have sensed anyone. Sam trotted over to the fence. We’re good.

  Five seconds later, Brandon shifted and made his way over the barrier. He was still skeptical they’d get in and out without incident. Who had an expensive home without an alarm? No one smart. The problem was that Carl Hampton didn’t make his fortune in the market by being dumb. The man must have some way of knowing if his place had been compromised.

  Let’s cut the power to be safe, he telepathed to Sam.

  You want to do the honors?

  Sure.

  Power’s on the side of the garage, Sam told him.

  Got any wire cutters on you?

  Smart ass.

  Brandon raced to the back of the house and returned to human form. Hard to cut wires or throw switches with four paws. Sam stood guard. Once Brandon found the box, he threw the whole house circuit, and the entire perimeter went dark. The contrast to the neighbors’ lit homes was too severe. Damn. Brandon flipped on a few switches, hoping to light some of the rooms without activating the alarm system.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” a fully human Sam asked walking up from the side.

  “Can’t leave it all dark. It’s too obvious.”

  “Come on. Let’s get in and out. We’re here to see if anyone is in the house. That’s all.”

  Sam didn’t wait for a response. He jogged to the back door, pulled the lock picks from his pocket, and opened the door. Small items were fine when shifting. Big things, like guns were not.

  Once inside, no alarm sounded, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a silent alarm. Brandon motioned for Sam to take the first floor, and he’d check out the second. Sam went into the living room while Brandon ran up the stairs, taking two at a time. If they stayed less than ten minutes, they should be fine. They’d decided not to take anything, not wanting Carl Hampton to know anyone had been there.

  After looking at all the rooms and finding them free of kidnapped women, Brandon headed back to the first floor. He was halfway down the staircase when growls floated up from the main floor. Fuck.

  Brandon concentrated on the different tones. Three wolves were present. He closed his eyes and shifted, careful not to let his arms and legs hit the banister as he changed. Once in wolf form, he crept down the stairs and headed toward the front of the house where the confrontation was taking place.

  Two wolves were circling Sam. Brandon had no idea their identity, but he and Sam were the intruders. As much as he’d like to run out the back, the two sentries didn’t seem to be in the frame of mind to let them just walk away.

  Snarling, Brandon approached, hoping those two would realize the fight had now shifted in his and Sam’s favor. He didn’t detect any marks on his cousin, but neither were either of the two wolves bloody. The fact Brandon didn’t spot a woman or kids anywhere implied these two might be local security guards hired by Hampton.

  It was Brandon’s fault they were there. He must not have turned off the right circuit. In the future, he’d ask Mackenzie to locate the specs for the house, or learn who’d alarmed it. From the way the two wolves were still circling Sam, they were trying to figure out the best method of attack. They didn’t seem to understand that once the element of surprise was gone, their chances of winning dropped to near zero. He and Sam were the experts.

  Not wanting any more reinforcements to show up, Brandon charged. He took the one on the left, and Sam attacked the wolf on the right. Brandon’s wolf swiped his paw across the left side of his neck. Shit. He could ill afford to let that happen again. Believing Sam capable of dealing with his one attacker, Brandon nabbed his wolf’s leg and didn’t let go until he heard the snap of a bone. The wolf wailed and dropped to the ground. If Brandon hadn’t been the one trespassing, he might have killed him. Then again, that would have created a messy cleanup, and the other Pack members had enough to deal with.

  The animal’s leg would heal in a few minutes. It was time to go. He spun around to see if Sam needed help, but was relieved to find his cousin unscathed this time. The other wolf wasn’t so lucky. Blood marred his side, but that wound wasn’t fatal either.

  Let’s get out of here, he telepathed.

  He and Sam charged outside. They’d been smart enough to leave the door ajar. As soon as they leaped over the fence, they shifted and walked calmly to Sam’s truck.

  “That was a bust,” Sam said.

  “What happened back there?”

  Sam cranked up the engine. “What happened was either the alarm sounded or these two were in the neighborhood and sensed us. You find anything?”

  “No. Seems whoever buys the women is keeping them away from their houses. It’s not surprising given Hampton has a wife and kids.”

  “Did you really think we’d find Cheryl?”

  “Not really. I did see three kids rooms, implying his family is still living there.”

  Sam eased out of the neighborhood. “We’ll just have to dig deeper.”

  * * *

  Mac’s captor opened the rear car door. “Get in.” His command held more exasperation than evil.

  Crap. Another shifter was already in the backseat, waiting for her. It was if they’d expected to catch someone. Why else would a passenger be back there?

  “And if I don’t?” Mac spun around, pissed h
e’d not only cuffed her hands behind her back, but that she’d been caught. He must not care if she could identify him, as he didn’t try to get out of the glow of the streetlight. He was tall with short brown hair, and had shoulders broad enough to snap her in two. For some reason, she wasn’t all that afraid. If they’d wanted her dead, they would have killed her right away.

  “Do you have any idea who’s parked in the drive?” he whispered.

  She didn’t dare say the head of the Colters. That would imply she knew who that was. “No.”

  “Look. We don’t have much time. Get in. Please. We don’t need anyone looking out the window and seeing us.”

  “Seeing me? Or seeing you?” Mac wasn’t sure why she felt the need to push his buttons.

  If Paul Statler was this new arrival, and he spotted her, he’d remember her for sure. The man was smart enough to connect the dots about her wanting to find Cheryl. He’d question her about what she had on William Daniels, and the scenario would no doubt end badly.

  “Both,” he said.

  “I appreciate you coming to my rescue, but I don’t know anything. You must have mistaken me for someone else.” The sarcasm leapt to her tongue.

  The man in the backseat scooted out, picked her up, and dumped her in the car. “When he tells you to get in, it’s best to do what he says.” He slid in after her.

  “Hey.” She twisted to face the man so that her hands were free to open the door, but the damn thing wouldn’t budge.

  “It’s locked from the outside. You can’t escape,” her seatmate said.

  The first man slid into the front seat and tossed a set of keys to Mr. Backseat, who promptly unlocked her cuffs. Just as she rubbed her bruised wrists, he reached across her, lifted her left arm, and clamped the other half of the cuff to the overhead handle.

  “Is that necessary? You just said I can’t escape.”

  The man in front started the engine. “She sounds like Chelsea, doesn’t she?”

  Mac should be scared shitless being in the company of these two brutes, but two things struck her. One, if they worked for Paul Statler, why not take her into the house? Secondly, the man in front said the woman’s name with affection. The name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

  “Who are you guys? You just can’t kidnap someone without cause.”

  Mr. Backseat chuckled. “We didn’t kidnap you. We saved you.” He leaned closer, and she expected to be repulsed, but the man did smell nice. “You were trespassing, taking pictures without the owner’s knowledge.”

  She lifted her chin, trying to appear as confident as possible when all she wanted to do was tremble. “How do you know Mr. Daniels didn’t hire me to take pictures of the man who arrived?”

  His brows pinched. “You can do better than that. Who are you really?” Mr. Backseat glanced to the man in front. The driver said nothing. Clearly, they were mentally discussing what to do with her.

  Mac had no intention of giving them any information. There was a chance they were security for Mr. Daniels. “If you wouldn’t mind, could you drop me back off at my car? I’ll be happy to get on my way, never to return.” They were turning out of the neighborhood, but it wouldn’t be too much out of their way to go back. Since she kept her tone quite nonchalant, she thought they might agree.

  “We’ll bring you back tomorrow if you answer all of our questions tonight.”

  Tomorrow? That would be disastrous. Sam and Brandon would freak when they came home and found her missing. Well, Sam would anyway. She had to make them see reason. “Okay. My name is…” She could go with the one she used to get into Roger Medlock’s house or use her real first name. Since she didn’t want to be associated with yesterday’s disaster, she told the truth. “Mackenzie.”

  Mr. Backseat picked up her camera, turned it on, and scrolled through the pictures. “She was doing some kind of reconnaissance.” He set the camera next to her and faced her. “What were you hoping to learn?”

  “I’m not saying anything more.” She could say she was with the DEA, but if these men were dealing in drugs that would give them even more reason to kill her.

  Kill me?

  Would they? At the possibility, her palms dampened and her stomach sickened. She couldn’t die without finding Cheryl first.

  “Guess we’ll have to torture her, Kurt.”

  The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. “I’m game.”

  Were they serious? What could she really tell them? Other than the list of possible names of men who might have bought women, she truly was in the dark. “I told you, I don’t know anything.”

  “People who don’t know anything don’t hide behind trees taking photos.”

  “You don’t get it.” She tugged on her restraint, but the metal wouldn’t budge. With her free hand she could have dug into her pocket for her lock picks and been freed in seconds, but Mr. Backseat would have stopped her in a flash. Besides, she didn’t want to let them in on one of her many talents.

  If this was the end of her life, she refused to cry and beg. That would just make her last day on earth all the more pathetic. Her biggest regret was that her death would upset Sam and Brandon. Upset? Hell. They’d be tormented. They’d blame themselves for not watching over her, when in truth, she was her own woman. She’d taken the chance and failed.

  “Enlighten us,” the man in the front seat said.

  If only there were some tidbit of information she could toss these two to make them want to keep her alive. Think. Then it came to her.

  “Did you know Mr. Daniels was arrested once for trying to bring drugs into the United States, but he got off?” She prayed her assessment of these two as not being affiliated with Daniels was correct.

  Mr. Backstreet glanced at her. “We did. What else you got?”

  She had to take a chance they weren’t working for the man. “His business is floundering and his wife’s medical bills are growing. I think he might be desperate for money, which might account for his recent trip to Mexico.”

  “Makes sense.” The man was good at keeping a straight face.

  “That’s all I know.”

  That and the belief he bought one or more woman. If she told them that, however, and she was wrong about them, they might warn Daniels. For sure, that would be the death of her cousin.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Where the hell is she?” Sam paced in front of the dining room table.

  Brandon pulled out the laptop. “I’ll check the tracking device.”

  “When I find Mackenzie, I’m going to lock her in the house, and she won’t get a breath of air until we have Cheryl.”

  Brandon booted up, and then tapped away. Sam stepped behind him, but then he was unable to watch. It was happening all over again. First Donny disappeared, and now Mackenzie. Had it been his fault to let her stay by herself? Possibly, but in all fairness, they’d had to do their job, and they sure as hell couldn’t have taken her with them.

  Brandon looked up at Sam. “It says she’s here.”

  “What do you mean here? Did you see her car in the drive? You don’t need to answer that. That bug must be defective.”

  His cousin leaned back in his seat. “Those bugs have never failed before.” He snapped his fingers. “That little vixen. I bet she found the device and left it in the house.”

  That was something she’d do. “I’ll kill her. I swear to God.”

  His cell rang, but he wasn’t in the mood to speak with anyone.

  “Aren’t you going to see who it is? It could be Mackenzie.”

  Fuck. Sam pulled the phone from his back pocket. “No. It’s Kurt.” He didn’t know why one of the Pack members would be calling him, but it must be important. “Sam.”

  “I have someone here who needs rescuing.” His good friend had the nerve to chuckle.

  His fist clenched at the female voices in the background. He recognized them. “You have Mackenzie?”

  “Yes. I gotta hand it to her. She was calm the who
le time, even after we caught her not twenty feet from Statler and cuffed her. Then when I said I was going to call you, she kind of freaked. Even begged me to drive her to her car so she could go home.”

  “Are you at your house?” Once he realized she was safe, his anger built. He’d tie her up and lock her in their playroom. For life.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  Kurt hesitated. “Bring Brandon. I’m not sure Drake and I are strong enough to keep you from pummeling her.”

  “I’ll be right there.” He couldn’t even form enough words to say what he was feeling.

  Brandon looked up. “She’s at Kurt’s?”

  “Yes.” He grabbed his keys.

  Brandon jumped up to follow. Thank goodness his cousin was smart enough to keep his mouth shut as they drove the five miles to the other Pack members’ home. What the fuck had Mackenzie been thinking? And how had she ended up with Kurt? Jesus. The chances of a Pack member finding her instead of a Colter had been slim. She was damned lucky.

  Sam pulled behind the sheet metal building and cut the engine. Kurt and Drake lived on the second floor of the warehouse with their mate Chelsea. He bet she never gave those two this much grief. Dear God, why had he and Brandon been saddled with a woman who had no common sense? Didn’t she know she could have been killed?

  Sam pressed the door buzzer and was let in a second later. He and Brandon rushed up the steps. Had Kurt not opened the door then blocked his path, Sam might have shifted and charged at his mate. He’d never been this furious in his life.

  “Calm down, Sam. It’s all good,” Kurt said.

  Easy for him to say. He and Drake didn’t have to deal with Mackenzie.

  She stood, her gaze on his face. She might appear calm, but from the way she was clasping her hands together, she wasn’t expecting a warm welcome. Good. She wasn’t going to get one.