Dare the Wolf: A Bully Boys Novel of Paranormal Romance

by Cassandra Moore

  All he could do was force the smile back onto his lips as the police sergeant climbed out of his car. “Afternoon, officers,” Lou said. “And Anita. You didn’t have to bother the police to serve me with divorce papers, you know.”

  The condescension in his tone grated against her nerves. Faced with a bruise on his pride, he took a shot in the dark and tried to hit her with a deflection of his shame. Little did he know the “hysterical woman” ploy wouldn’t work with charges of attempted murder.

  She didn’t engage him. Instead, she looked to the police sergeant, who spoke in a voice loud enough to carry into the maintenance bays. All work had stopped so the mechanics could stare. “Lou Calderon, you’re under arrest for the attempted murders of Shane Lawson, Holly Talbot, and Jake Ballard. For a whole mess of other charges, too, but those are a good start. You have the right to remain silent-”

  Not a right Lou knew how to take advantage of. Guilty fear flashed over his face before he exploded into a tirade. “What the fuck are you talking about? I never laid a hand on them! I didn’t do shit to them! Did Anita try to blame me for this? You know she’s got it out for me, right?”

  The sergeant scowled as his officers approached Lou with cuffs. “Lou, don’t make this harder than it has to be. I always considered you a friend of mine. Hell, a friend of the town’s. Anita didn’t have to blame you for anything. You took a shit on Coyote Trail yourself.”

  Lou hadn’t talked much about his brushes with the law. But as the first cuff closed around his wrist, and his muscles bunched as if he intended to lash out, Anita remembered a night early on in their relationship. An argument in the living room of the tiny singlewide they’d rented, his protests after she’d suggested he should stop evading his legal troubles and take what consequences came from his actions.

  “No! They’re never gonna chain me again, you understand? I’d rather run for the rest of my life than feel those cuffs on my wrist. I’ll die first!” Flecks of spit had flown from his lips as he’d shouted at her.

  Their eyes met as the memory faded. Deep in his gaze, she saw he remembered, too, and hadn’t changed his thoughts. With a powerful lunge too fast for the police to stop, Lou lurched toward her with the handcuffs dangling from one wrist. But before she could even stumble out of the way, Jake stepped in front of her. A growl tore from his throat as his fist shot out and connected with Lou’s face.

  Lou tumbled to the ground. Blood poured from one nostril and the corner of his mouth. He spat at the policemen who closed around him and wrestled him to the dirt. “Let me go! Fucking let me go! You won’t get away with this, you fucking dog! I’ll fucking charge you with assault! Arrest him, too!”

  “I didn’t see anything,” said one cop, as he tightened the cuff more than necessary.

  Lou kept howling. “You’re all dead! All of you! You’re worse than dead.”

  “At this rate, we won’t see anything if he hits you again, either,” another muttered.

  Jake wrapped his arms around Anita with protective tenderness as the police stuffed Lou into one of the cruisers. Despite the sweltering heat, Anita leaned against her mate to watch as the car door closed. “I’m free,” she murmured. “Finally, I’m free.”

  Tears came unbidden. But laughter did, too, as the police car drove Lou away from her and the garage that bore his name. “Jake?”

  “Hm?”

  “Do me a favor?”

  He kissed the top of her head. “Anything for you.”

  “Take that damn sign down.” She pointed to the wooden Calderon Auto sign they’d passed on the way in. “Use a chainsaw if you have to.”

  “How about if I just want to?”

  “Fine by me.”

  Jake leaned back enough for her to see his grin. “You know there’s nothing sexier than a woman who says ‘get the chainsaw’, don’t you?”

  She hit him with her best bedroom eyes. “Get the chainsaw, mate of mine.”

  “God, I love you.”

  A week after the attempt on Shane’s life, the pack met at Rigo’s house at moonrise. Mama Hernandez spent the day cooking, from the time the sun came up until just before the guests arrived. Anita’s stomach rumbled all day as the smells of good, authentic Mexican food filled the house. Chile relleno. Two kinds of tamales. Enchiladas, refried beans from scratch… Shane had returned to his home many days before, but Anita wondered if the entire pack would end up staying the night, knocked unconscious by an epic food coma.

  The week had passed in a blur for everyone. Feral attacks had doubled after the failure to kill Shane, then dropped off to nearly nothing. The pack had combed the desert for days in search of clues to the new leader’s whereabouts. Not even Holly could scent him, which offended her beyond redemption. She took her offense out on a hapless insurance agent who called at the wrong moment to explain the company wouldn’t pay for her sliding glass door.

  They’d cut her a check two days later.

  Mama Hernandez put plates of sopapillas and honey out on the coffee table, then retired to her room for her telenovelas. The pack settled themselves on the couches, chairs, and floor in the living room to watch the videos Anita had taken at the garage. Blown up onto the big television screen, the quality of the picture diminished, but the audio came across loud and clear in the grim stillness of the room. The Bullies had heard what the videos contained, but none of them had seen the betrayals for themselves until now.

  None of them but Shane. Anita didn’t know how many times he’d watched them alone, but she knew he had. The haunted look he’d worn for the first few days told her so. He hadn’t mentioned it. Not yet. He would talk about it when he was ready and not before.

  He sat, expression a stoic mask as the rest of them wore their anger plain on their faces. Awkward gazes turned to him as the video ended, and no one knew what to say. Greeting card companies didn’t print “sorry your girlfriend sold you to rabid shapeshifters” condolence cards. Ordinary break-ups didn’t supply platitudes for “we’re sorry your relationship turned into a garbage fire”.

  In Anita’s opinion, Shane showed his true leadership mettle when he put a saddle on the elephant in the room so he could ride it around. “So that sucked,” he said. “I know a lot of you didn’t care for Nicole, even if you didn’t say anything. You were classy about it. I appreciate it. And it’s okay with me if you’re a little bit glad she’s gone. I hope you’ll understand when I say, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  “She’s not worth talking about,” Kerri said. “We know she got arrested. Are they going to charge her with burning down Jake’s trailer?”

  Shane looked at Anita, who replied, “They are. Nicole’s being charged with arson, attempted murder, and anything else the DA can come up with. He said if he found out she’d ditched the gas can from the fire in the desert, he’d charge her with littering, too.”

  Kerri barked a laugh. “Littering? Damn, he’s hardcore.”

  “I know, right? That man has no mercy. He’s gone to the federal government to see if there’s some law for collusion with Ferals he can pin on her. Since Ferals aren’t usually something you can collude with, he’s not sure if there are even laws on the books about it.”

  One of Kerri’s eyebrows arched. “I hadn’t thought about that. Colluding with Ferals seems like a pretty common-sense charge, but the legal system doesn’t run on common sense.”

  “Truer words have never been spoken.” Anita tore a strip off her sopapilla and dipped it in honey. “That little loophole is making the DA’s job harder when it comes to charging Lou. Right now, they’re going with ‘attempted murder’, for sending the Ferals after Jake, Holly, and Shane, accessory to murder for knowing that Nicole had tried to kill Jake and me, resisting arrest, and they’re working out what they can do about the collusion with the Ferals. Identity theft, too, since he opened credit cards in my name. Either way, he’s not getting out of jail for a long, long time, even with a plea deal. The judge denied bail for both of them. Fligh
t risk.”

  Levi piped up. “So where does that leave you? Since you’re technically his wife and all.”

  “Only until the lawyer can push the divorce through.”

  “When he does, we’ll throw him a barbecue.”

  “He’d probably like that. He’s a Bullies fan.” Anita smirked. That had been the best find for legal representation she could have hoped for. She’d had to all but beg him to accept payment. “The garage is mine, no fuss. Lou has agreed to sign over all the equipment in it, as well as the truck, so they’re mine, too. For my part, I’ll be selling his car, and renovating the house to put it on the market. The money from those will go towards his legal fees. I can buy the house at a discount if I want, as well.”

  Shane said, “We can help with the renovations. Knock them out fast so it’s over with sooner. Especially if you want to keep it.”

  “Thanks, Shane. Honestly, I can’t see keeping that house. It doesn’t have any good memories for me. I’d rather buy another one and make good memories in it.” She couldn’t help but look over at Jake and smile when she said it. They’d talked about it several times now. A little place of their own, where they could put down roots and grow together. No more running for either of them.

  Rodrigo lifted his margarita glass. “To making good memories.”

  All those assembled raised their glasses and murmured “to making good memories” along with him. Holly, however, stuck hers out sideways, nearly tipping its contents out onto the floor, and mumbled the words with vague inattention. While everyone else drank their toast, she fussed at the laptop they’d used to play the video on the television.

  Rigo swallowed his sip and asked, “Holly, how many margaritas am I going to need to understand what you are doing?”

  “No, my cup still has some in it, thanks,” she said, answering a question Rigo hadn’t asked as she poked at the touchpad.

  Rigo glanced around at the rest of them with a smirk. “Would it be all right if I ate your tamales?”

  “Tomorrow.” She squinted at the screen with furious concentration.

  “I can eat her tamales tomorrow,” Rigo murmured with vast amusement.

  Levi chuckled into his margarita glass. “Good thing you don’t like her that way, Rigo, or you’d have some mighty fine innuendo on your hands.”

  “I will remember this line the next time I try to go on a date. ‘How about tomorrow, I eat your tamales?’ It will go better than the last one,” Rigo said, and rolled his eyes to punctuate it. Anita got the idea his last date hadn’t gone well. “Holly. What are you doing?”

  “I’m looking at this guy. The Feral guy.” Irritated, she prodded the computer to put the video back on the big television screen. The video started, but she mumbled, “No, no, I don’t care about you assholes… There.”

  She froze the video on the clearest frame to show the Feral leader. Not a good shot at all, as Anita had been holding her phone out at an odd angle to capture the footage. Terrible lighting turned the details to shadows and mud. But even with the atrocious quality of the picture, she remembered the fear she felt as she watched him, too close for her comfort as she huddled alone behind a stack of tires. The dread that accompanied the sure knowledge that the Ferals had changed for the worse.

  Jake’s arm tightened around her shoulders. She leaned against him and tried to allow his presence to reassure her. But if that thing on the screen is trying to take on Coyote Trail, Jake will have to face him. They all will. An expensive price for safety. One the town asked the Bullies to pay every time the sun went down.

  They never talked about the cost. They just fired up their bikes and rode into the sunset. How people in the town had ever seen them as less than heroes, Anita couldn’t understand. She nestled more tightly against Jake’s shoulder.

  Holly cocked her head to match the tilt of the video. Her lips flattened into a thin line. “He looks familiar,” she said.

  Shane said, “Pretty sure we’ve never seen him out there, Holly. I’d remember that.”

  “No. He reminds me of someone.” She told the video to play again, but stopped it after a few seconds. Then she did it again, and again, as her intense glare threatened to bore holes in the screen. “That gesture. I know it. I don’t remember where I know it from. But I swear, he’s familiar.”

  “Get Rigo to mail you a copy of the video. You can watch it as much as you want at home,” Shane told her. His tone stayed genial, but the little smile didn’t go all the way to his eyes. “Let me know if you figure it out. Until then… From here on out, shit with the Ferals is going to get worse before it gets better. He came right out and said what he wants. It’s our job to make sure he dies disappointed.”

  Travis asked, “Do you really think he could pull it off? Taking over towns, all that?”

  Shane looked down at the drink in his hands. When he looked back up, he said, “I don’t know. Right now, the Ferals are playing by new rules. What I do know is, information is coming over the wolf relays that they aren’t broadcasting over the television or news radio. The United States military has declared California a hostile zone. No human life left for collateral damage. They’re bombing the main hubs of Feral activity.”

  Shocked silence sucked the air out of the room. When Levi spoke, it sounded muted, as if the words couldn’t penetrate the quiet. “They’re bombing U.S. soil.”

  “Yeah.” Shane looked at each of his packmates in turn. “You know what that means as well as I do. But aside from the ethical bullshit, it also means the Ferals’ territory is under attack. They’re going to run east. Right into us. They’re hungry, they’re desperate, and their world’s getting smaller. So I don’t know if they can pull it off, Travis. But I know they don’t have much choice but to try.”

  “Then neither do we.” Rigo leaned forward to snag the television remote off the coffee table so he could turn the display off. “We know there is worse coming. So tonight, we celebrate the good we already have. Let us eat and drink to friends. To pack, and to mates. For these are the reason we will win in the end, si?”

  “Damn straight,” Shane said. He tipped his margarita back to drain it in one pull. Then he winced when the brain freeze caught up to him. Not even werewolves could avoid those.

  Anita turned her face up to kiss under Jake’s chin. “To mates.”

  Jake tilted his head down to steal a proper kiss. “To mates. All the inspiration I need to kick Feral ass every night. I love you. Ain’t nothing going to take me away from you.”

  He’d asked her what set him apart from the Ferals. As she kissed him again, she realized the answer. Love did. The Ferals didn’t stand a chance.

  About the Author

  Cassandra Moore is a desert rat who thinks closed shoes are instruments of pure evil. She lives in the American Southwest with a bald husband, a hairy dog, and a teenaged son. All dwell in the house at the sufferance of the cat, who rightly believes herself the sovereign leader of the home.

  When Cassandra isn’t slinging words, she’s knitting, playing video games, and reading. (Sometimes at the same time.) All are best done while enjoying a sunny day on the back porch.

  Keep up with new releases, contests, and more at http://www.cassandra-moore.com. For news delivered to your email, subscribe to the update list at http://cassandra-moore.com/index.php/newsletter/.