by Zoey Harper
Colton got into his truck and pulled his phone out. He dialed 911 and started hyperventilating.
"Nine-one-one operator. What is your emergency?" a calm female voice answered.
"Gunshots. People are shooting at each other." Colton swallowed thickly. "I-I don't know why. There's yelling, and screaming—"
"Where are you?"
"In my house on Mill Row." Colton panted. "The yelling's getting louder. I have my nephew with me. Please hurry."
"What is your name?"
Colton hung up, then leaned back in his seat and waited. The police would show up. Stonewick was a quiet town. That's why it was a perfect hiding and meeting spot for shifters. There were no territories. It was just open space.
Stonewick's police probably didn't get a lot of action. Not like Bolsend's did.
Colton snorted. MC culture provided the perfect cover for most clans. They could meet in large groups and attack each other, and all the police would think is that they were just a part of 1% MC culture.
Colton reached into the glove compartment of his car and got out his dagger. He stuffed it into the side of his boot, then took a few deep breaths. He needed to focus if he was going to get the eagle shifter away from his bodyguards, then tied up in the rear of his truck.
If this were a regular bar fight, then Colton would welcome the challenge of facing down three men, but that would sabotage his current mission. Colton needed to get the eagle shifter, find his stash, and head home. Then he could figure out a way to get out from under Patrick's thumb.
The sound of police sirens far off in the distance reached Colton's ears. He sat up and watched the bouncer pull the cigarette out of his mouth. Hearing the sound get close and begin to build, the bodyguard threw his cigarette on the ground and ran into the club.
Seconds later, streams of shifters filed out and ran to their cars. Club Lime sat on a massive piece of land, but human territory still surrounded it, just like everything in Stonewick.
None of the shifters wanted to get arrested by the cops. Their animals didn't do well in confinement. There was also the risk that a drunken shifter could shift and expose the entire shifter world.
The sound of screeching tires as cars turned corners filled the night. People ran out en masse and yelled, trying to find their friends and partners so that they could leave.
Colton stepped out of his car and walked toward the mass. Once he passed them, he stepped behind the club door and waited.
Flynn had bodyguards, so Colton doubted he'd be taking off in alarm like everyone else. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later, Flynn walked out by himself. The blonde man froze as soon as he stepped out into the parking lot.
Colton grinned. Flynn's instincts were good, but not good enough. No wonder he'd hired bodyguards.
As a smuggler, Flynn could take to the skies and deliver goods over long distances. There was no concern for border patrol or airport security. It seemed that his ability to fly had made him complacent over learning how to protect himself in human form.
Colton took two giant steps and kicked Flynn in the back of the knee. The eagle shifter bucked, and Colton looped his right arm around his throat, choking him. Flynn grabbed his arm with surprising strength, but Colton already knew he'd be no match for him.
A few late leavers caught sight of Colton and Flynn, but they moved without taking a second glance. Violence was commonplace among shifters.
Colton immediately thought of Tegan. She'd probably fear him if she saw what he was doing right that moment.
Then, for at least the tenth time in the last twenty-four hours, Colton's find filled with images and thoughts of Tegan. Her beautiful round face, and the way her hazel eyes sparkled on the few occasions where he'd managed to make her smile.
Then Colton saw her seated in her car. Angry and a little sad over the way he had ended their lunch.
A bite to the arm forced Colton to drop his arm. "You bitch!" he yelled.
Flynn turned around and swung wildly. Colton ducked in time, then worked his way around the eagle shifter, cornering him against the wall.
He shouldn't have let his concentration drop. Now what should have been a simple swipe had turned into a messy fight.
Colton's first punch landed in Flynn's muscled belly, right where his kidneys should be. Flynn doubled over and exhaled, as Colton had expected. The goal wasn't to kill the shifter but to get him knocked out so that Colton could get him into his truck.
Before Colton could reach for Flynn and attempt to choke him out, the eagle shifter's bodyguards streamed out of the club, quickly grabbing Colton before he could land another punch.
Two of them held Colton by the arms, while the third punched Colton in the gut.
Unlike Flynn, Colton didn't double over. He evened his breathing and pushed his abs out. They could handle the brunt of the force. Colton used his feet to try and wrestle out of their grip, but it was no use.
He scented the men and his temper sparked. Wolves. A grizzly shifter was being held down by a bunch of steroid-pumped dogs.
Colton leaned fully on the men that held him and lifted his legs, kicking out against the wolf that stood before him. Colton's boots landed squarely against his chest, and the man stumbled back, howling in pain.
The wolf's gray eyes glowed a disconcerting silver, and he got back up and charged at Colton.
"Enough," Flynn said, straightening as he walked toward them.
The wolf struck Colton, but his fist only glanced his chin as Colton turned away at the last second. It seemed these guys weren't particularly well trained. They had brute force, but they didn't understand the importance of striking weak spots like the nose and throat first or checking for weapons.
Colton mentally grinned as he felt the cold sheath of his dagger against his ankle.
In his bear form, he could be blind angry. In his human form, Colton had a lot more control. He just needed to bide his time until he got an opening.
Flynn shoved the wolf aside, then kicked Colton in the nuts. That got a reaction from Colton.
He drew in a sharp breath and growled as he glared at Flynn. The eagle shifter unconsciously took a step back.
Colton had half a mind to shift there and then. Humans be damned.
Flynn had just made a bitch move. Colton wanted nothing more than to punch the little bird in the mouth, deforming his beak in shifter form.
"Who sent you?"
Colton clenched his jaw. "Patrick," he gritted out.
Flynn's nostrils flared as he sniffed Colton. "And who the fuck are you? Patrick doesn't run with bears."
"I'm just here to collect."
Flynn cocked his head. He was mulling over Colton's relationship with Patrick. A smile graced his face when it finally clicked. "You're his bitch."
Flynn threw his head back and laughed, before wrapping an arm around his middle. Colton grinned when he saw that his punch was making it hard for Flynn to enjoy his temporary upper hand. He'd probably done some internal damage.
Serves the little shit right. He shouldn't have bitten me like a vampire bitch!
"I'm no one's bitch, but you sure bit me like one. What? Is spending time with all these doggies making you want to bend over for them?"
Colton felt the bodies behind him freeze as their grip loosened. At first, he was trying to piss off Flynn, to get him to make a mistake that would give him an opportunity. Now, it seemed he was getting close to the truth.
There were plenty of gay shifters, but there was just as much homophobia in the shifter world as the human world.
Personally, Colton had no problem with it. But Flynn did. The way his nostrils flared told the entire story.
Colton rolled his eyes and laughed. "What? Didn't expect me to pick up on that? Those pouty little lips probably got that way from all the cock you've sucked."
At the exact moment Flynn charged, Colton shook the wolf shifters off. He crouched and pulled his dagger out, unsheathing it in a single motion. Giving his b
ack to Flynn, he spun around and stabbed one of the wolves.
The man howled as Colton twisted the knife in his gut. Flynn crashed into him and rained punches on his back before realizing what Colton had done.
Flynn then tried to pull Colton off the wolf, while the second wolf tried to pull his friend off Colton's dagger.
"I've got it, boss," the wolf that Colton had kicked in the gut said before Colton got shoved aside and onto the ground. The wolf quickly pounced on him, and they traded body shots as commotion surrounded them.
The wolf that Colton stabbed was howling, a low and mournful sound, while his friend cursed up a storm trying to get him some help.
"Boss. He needs to get to a clinic."
"Fuck that."
The panic in Flynn's voice raised the hairs on the back of Colton's neck. The bear shifter did something he hadn't done since he was a teenager willing to win by any means necessary. Colton initiated a part of his shift and let his fangs grow in length before sinking his teeth into the wolf’s neck.
The taste of blood filled Colton's mouth, but he held on. He must have hit a necessary vein because seconds later, the wolf sagged against him.
Colton flipped the man over and staggered to his feet, spitting blood out of his mouth. The wolf lay on the ground with a shaky hand pressed against his neck, his eyes wide with fear.
Colton had no intentions of killing anyone on this job, but he'd taken lives before. When it came to a kill or be killed scenario, he had no problem making a tough call.
When Colton turned to Flynn, he found the shifter crouched on the ground, shrinking in size as feathers covered his neck.
"Fuck no!" Colton ran toward Flynn, but a split second before he reached him, the eagle flapped his wings and took off, soaring high, releasing a cry of triumph into the night sky.
"Dammit!"
Colton ran a hand through his hair, then placed his hands on his hips and stared at the wall, his eyes open but unseeing.
He'd had Flynn right where he wanted him, but the sneaky bastard had flown away. Patrick's deadline had passed, and Colton would have to spend even more days trying to find Flynn.
Patrick had already told Colton he wouldn't pay for another tracker should he lose Flynn. So Colton was on his own in finding the shifter.
"You fucking asshole!"
Colton turned around just in time to find the final bodyguard walking toward him with his fists clenched. Colton ducked when he swung, then tripped him. Before the man got up, he ran to his truck, got in, and sped off.
Through his rearview mirror, Colton saw the two bodies lying on the ground as the final bodyguard hunched over his friend's body. A wave of guilt threatened to engulf Colton, but he shoved it away.
He'd done what he needed to. Those men were at fault for taking on a job they weren't qualified to handle. They should have taken off the moment they scented his bear.
Colton gritted his teeth and drew a sharp breath. He wasn't going to let the little speck of gold in his heart make him feel guilty about what he'd done. There'd be plenty of time for that over the coming days. What he needed right now was a plan.
"No. I need a tracker and a sniper. I'll be damned if I let that little fuck shift and fly away again."
Colton pulled his phone out and kept one hand on the wheel as he typed into the search box of his browser:
Iron Gun Range
It was time Colton called in a few debts, starting by acquiring a sniper. He'd have to wait until the next day to figure out what to do about getting a tracker of his own.
It would cost an arm and a leg, but he didn't care. He needed to get Patrick off his back, and that goal started with capturing Flynn.
Colton was ready to do whatever it took to capture the eagle shifter. Guilty conscience be damned.
6
Colton shut the door of his truck and lay his head against the headrest, blinking a few times to keep himself awake.
He'd had a horrible night's sleep thanks to several dreams where he lay on the ground of some remote place or other before the bodies of the two wolf shifters he killed were dumped over him.
"Stupid conscience," Colton grumbled.
He had far too much to take care of today. He'd hoped that his early start would help wake him up, but he still felt as groggy as he did a couple of hours ago.
Colton had driven to a bar a couple of hours out of Stonewick and left a message with the bartender. That was the only way he'd get a message to Kylo, the tracker he needed. Hopefully, he'd get the ball rolling on the tracker side of things before the day ended.
Colton's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he dug it out. He hadn't been expecting a call back from Kylo so soon. Perhaps the dragon shifter was out of work.
Colton scoffed aloud. That would never happen. Not as long as shifters formed clans, established territories, and waged war on each other.
"Hello," Colton said, placing the phone to his ear.
"Uh, hey," Damon's voice answered through the line. Colton pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the number.
"Why are you calling me from a different line?"
"I left my phone at a girl's house. I need to figure out where it is, or what her name is so that I can get it."
Colton sighed. He didn't get Damon. His second's appetite seemed to grow with every passing year. Damon wasn't depressed or angry, which made him even more of a puzzle to Colton.
Colton knew the number of Damon's conquests was increasing because he'd finally had to forbid his second from bringing guests to their apartment above the garage.
There was only so much moaning and grunting a guy could hear until he started picturing what was going on next door.
"What's up?"
Damon cleared his throat, and Colton heard the sound of a door shutting. Wherever he was, he wanted privacy, which meant one thing: something horrible had happened.
"So, you know I've been working on the custom chopper, hoping to have the fabrication done in a couple of weeks."
"Yeah," Colton said. "It's a tight deadline, but you've done well so far."
"Thanks." Damon went silent for a second. "I must have forgotten to secure the table because the bike fell off. Most of the parts will need a good polish and some reshaping, but the gas tank's damaged. I'll have to start from scratch on it."
"Fuck."
Colton slammed his hand against the steering wheel. He didn't have the energy to burst out in anger. Far too much had happened over the last twenty-four hours.
It was like his life with the Red Claw Rising was part of his dream world, and the shit he was doing for Patrick was his real life.
Colton pursed his lips and shut his eyes, as a steady pounding started behind his eyelids.
Great. All I needed was a migraine.
Colton dealt well with stress every day. It was a part of his harsh upbringing. But just like everyone else, he had a tipping point. It seemed his body was at one, and if he were honest, so was his mind.
What was supposed to be a simple mission had just turned into a major hunt. One that Colton didn't sign up for. And now, he was waiting for his support team to fall into place, knowing full well that it would cost him a fortune.
"Fix it," Colton grunted.
"I'm already on it. Just wanted to keep you in the loop."
Colton nodded even though Damon couldn't see him. He was so damn tired, and he had one more stop to visit and a phone call to make.
The Iron Gun Range was a couple of hours’ drive from his current location, and Colton knew full well he'd have to get aggressive to get what he wanted.
Snipers didn't just lie around in wait for orders. They were in high demand in the underground shifter world. If Colton were to get one on such short notice, he'd have to play dirty.
Usually, he didn't mind, but his tiredness must have been softening him up, because he was dreading the encounter.
"Everything okay over there?" Damon asked.
No. Everything's shit, wh
ich is why I don't have the energy to yell at you for your fuckup.
"You don't get to ask that anymore. Get back to work."
Colton ended the call and started the truck. Spending more time on the phone with Damon would only piss him off further. Right now, he needed to focus on getting through the day.
Maybe he could rest in the afternoon. One thing was for sure, once all his ducks were in a row, it would be full steam ahead for the next few days.
Before Colton could pull out of the parking lot, his phone rang again. "What?" he snapped, answering it. "I told you to fix it."
"Again with the mood swings," Patrick's unamused voice responded. "Can it, before I decide to teach you another lesson by going to your little garage and fucking up more than just one bike."
Colton felt heat rush up his neck, as his muscles quivered. It wasn't like Damon to forget something as simple as securing a lift table. The man may have been free-spirited in his personal life, but he was meticulous about work.
Patrick had just crossed a line by fucking with the Red Claw Rising's livelihood.
"Why did you mess with our bike?" Colton asked, barely managing to keep his voice level.
"Because it was the only way to get your attention. You've been ignoring my calls."
Colton's body went cold with fury. Patrick had called him twice. Both calls fell during his time at the club and the fight that occurred after. The last thing Colton needed last night was a conversation where he admitted he'd lost Flynn.
Patrick, the dog with a short span of attention, had decided Colton was ignoring him altogether, and now he'd set Colton and his team back several days.
Colton's nostrils flared as he forced air into his lungs. He was practically suffocating on his fury, doing all he could do to not lash out. Patrick had the upper hand, and he didn't need him taking it out on the Red Claw Rising.
Maybe I should have brought a couple of guys with me.
Colton clenched his fist. That wouldn't have been possible. They all needed to work to earn money to pay the ridiculously high rent Patrick charged.
Then it hit Colton like a sack of bricks. Patrick was controlling their lives. He dictated how hard they worked and how many side gigs they took on. Now the dick-weasel was trying to fuck with their minds.