Pack 11 - Wolf Whisperer

by Karen Whiddon

  She wondered if she was like a trophy to them and if her constant refusal to join them had turned her into The One That Got Away. She also suspected that they’d finally gotten tired of her constant rejections and had resorted to grabbing what they wanted instead. Like her sister.

  Ian’s phone call proved it. They’d started with Bonnie and now had come for her. But she was ready for them. She’d neatly turned the tables.

  “Tell me where my sister is,” she demanded. “Or I’ll kill you where you stand. I have silver bullets.”

  The too-perfect-to-be-true man stared at her, silently dripping onto her Italian tile floor.

  “You’re trespassing,” she warned. “I’m well within my rights to shoot you.”

  Ignoring this, he gazed down at her, unafraid and boldly confident. Then, with water running off his tanned skin like diamonds, he flashed a smile so brilliant Kelly felt it like a punch to the gut.

  “Afternoon, Tearlach,” he drawled.

  She froze at the casual use of the old, now-forbidden word. She’d not heard it spoken out loud since she’d been a teenager living in the wild, distant mountains of Scotland, and even then it had been uttered in a whisper, under the breath, with reverence.

  Tearlach. Her father had died because of this word. This stranger, this man had no right to use it so brazenly. She felt a flash of irrational anger, which she quickly tamped down. He wouldn’t understand. The uninformed never did.

  While she formulated a response, the stranger continued to stare at her, his amazing eyes boring into her. “I don’t know anything about your sister, but I think you might know about something of mine. How about it, Tearlach? You tell me, and I’ll leave you in peace.”

  Ignoring this, she clenched her jaw. “Did the Pack send you?” she asked. Then, without giving him time to formulate an answer, she dismissed him with a flick of her hand, keeping her pistol trained on him. “Of course they did. I don’t want to join your little club, so they sent you to grab me, just like they did my sister. Too bad I’m going to make you tell me where they’ve taken her instead.”

  “Put the gun down.” Narrow-eyed, he glared at her as if she was the one in the wrong. “Or at least be careful where you’re pointing it.”

  “Answer me and I’ll let you leave,” she told him. “I promise.”

  Instead, he smiled again, no doubt well aware of his effect on women. “I’m with the Protectors. I came to offer you our assistance. As many as you need, all armed and ready to help. You say your sister’s been abducted? We can help you find her.”

  She sensed he was ad-libbing, making it up as he spoke. “I’ll bet you can.” She stared him down. “Especially since you’re the ones who took her. Where is she?”

  “I don’t know.” Inconceivably, he smiled again, a pleasant and oddly compelling smile that infuriated her. “We didn’t have anything to do with her abduction, I swear to you. You’re the only one of your kind we’ve been able to locate, since your father died when you were sixteen. You are aware he was in the middle of negotiating with us?”

  “Liar,” she snarled.

  “I assure you I’m telling the truth.” He met her gaze. “I have nothing of yours, but you do have something of mine. I’ll help you if you’ll help me. How about it?”

  She clenched her teeth. Something of his? What that could be, she had no idea. Nor did she care. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I don’t want to hear your lies. You aren’t the first one they’ve sent to talk to me. Now, I’ll tell you like I told them. I have no interest in joining your Pack. Not now or ever. The answer will always be no.”

  As he lowered his hands, reaching for his pocket, she snarled in warning, “Keep your hands where I can see them.”

  Immediately, he did as she demanded. “I promise we had nothing to do with your sister being taken. We only want to help. Protect and serve, that’s our motto.”

  She cocked her head, considering him. Her sixth sense, which she always trusted, told her this man, no matter what he wanted, was trouble. Nicely packaged, but trouble with a capital T.

  Problem was, should she let him go? Her sister had been taken, and even if they weren’t responsible, once the Protectors learned she’d pulled a gun on one of their men, she had no doubt they’d exact retribution. They were like that, with their pseudo good-guy image, working behind the scenes to cause death and destruction. Her father had made the mistake of trusting them. No one in the family would ever make that mistake again.

  “You don’t know where Bonnie is?” she asked again.

  “No.” His blue gaze never wavered. “But I’m willing to help you find her.”

  This time, she sensed he spoke the truth. Partially. Aware she might be making a mistake, she slowly lowered her pistol. “I have no need of your help. You can go. Just leave. We’ll pretend this encounter never happened.”

  Feeling both oddly hollow and self-righteous all at once, she turned, opening her front door to let him out.

  “Wait.” Instead, the man actually pushed the door closed, shoving her up against the wall.

  Once again she raised her gun. “I’ll shoot you,” she warned.

  To her stunned disbelief, he dared to reach out and touch her bare arm with his cold, wet fingers, ignoring the weapon. She felt a shock go through her, an electrical jolt, which she knew must be because his unusual masculine beauty attracted her. Living alone for so long, she was nothing if not honest with herself. Looking at this man made her desire him, which of course infuriated her. Not now. Especially not now, while Bonnie’s life was at stake.

  Shaking her head, she bared her teeth as she shook off his grip. “Back off or I’ll shoot.”

  “I hope you told the truth when you said you have silver bullets in that thing,” he drawled. “Otherwise, you know as well as I do that you’re wasting your time.”

  “Of course I have silver bullets.”

  “Why resort to violence? You could at least let me talk, listen to what I have to say.” He shrugged. “For me, violence is always a last resort, to be used when all other avenues are exhausted and I’m at the end of my rope.”

  Again, truth. This man was nothing if not truthful. Mostly.

  “If you’ll talk to me, I won’t report this to the authorities,” he said.

  Blackmail. Still, it was effective. Since he had a point, she lowered the gun. Of course she had no intention of trusting him or letting him pretend to help her find her sister, but she could listen to his spiel, and then send him on his way. They always said the same thing, with very little variance. She’d listen and pretend she’d never heard any of it before. And she’d keep her pistol ready.

  “I’ll give you ten minutes,” she said. “If I let you say your piece, after that you have to go. Agreed?”

  Instead of answering, he moved on past her. Startled, she followed right behind him into the foyer of her small ranch house, trying to ignore the fact that he was dripping puddles of rainwater on her clean tile floor.

  From the bedroom, one of her dogs started barking, prompting the others to join in.

  “What do you have in there, a kennel?” he asked, one brow raised.

  She didn’t even crack a smile. “My personal pack. Canine pack,” she elaborated, crossing her arms. “Start talking. Your timer is running.” Glancing at her watch, she met his gaze. “Right about now.”

  Instead of jumping to do her bidding, he simply stared at her, one corner of his sensual mouth curved in the beginning of a smile.

  Short of manhandling him—and really, as if she could—there was little she could do. They were getting smarter and more brazen, these faceless shifters who made up this Pack of Protectors. Prior to this, they’d always sent females, probably in the hopes that she would bond with them. This time, sending a hot man to try to coerce her, aware that she lived alone, without companionship or sex… Nothing short of brilliant.

  That is, brilliant if she were anyone else. But Kelly McKenzie didn’t need an
yone. Ever. She was fine on her own.

  As the seconds ticked past, she felt a flash of fury.

  “If you’re not going to speak, then go. Leave me alone,” she growled, holding herself stiffly in a classic lupine warning, knowing he’d recognize it.

  “I can’t leave you alone,” he said, his deep voice ringing with both sincerity and desperation. “As you’ve said, your sister’s been taken. So have my children. I’ve come to bargain with you, Tearlach. Yours for mine.”

  Staring at him, she narrowed her eyes. He dared to confirm what she’d only suspected? The Protectors truly had been the ones who’d captured Bonnie?

  Disbelief mingling with fury in her gut, Kelly brought her weapon up to bear on his heart. “Don’t use that word. Your kind only defile it. I should shoot you where you stand.”

  Either unwilling or unable to see how close to the edge she was, the stranger stood his ground, meeting her gaze dead-on. She could have sworn rage rather than fear simmered beneath his calm expression.

  “Look,” he said. “I know your family split up. I’m not saying we have your sister, only that we can help you find her. What I am proposing is a trade for a trade. Your people have something of mine, my kids. I want them back.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said distinctly. “I don’t know anything about any kids.”

  His clear gaze never wavered. “You might have had the luxury of lying once. But not now, not to me. The stakes are too high. Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am.”

  She should just shoot him. But something about him—maybe his firm belief that he spoke the truth—interested her. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”

  Briefly, he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the deep blue startled her. “Then let me educate you. I’m Mac Lamonda.”

  The name sounded vaguely familiar. But still, she couldn’t place him. “Okay, Mac Lamonda. Now tell me what you mean that I have your kids. If you’d bothered to take a look around here, you’d see there are no children, yours or anyone else’s.”

  His jaw set, he stared her down. “I think you know I don’t mean you personally,” he spat. “You Tearlachs. Your people. When my mate died, your father came and took them. Without my permission, without my knowledge. I want them back.”

  Then it clicked. This couldn’t be him. He should have been dead. “You’re Maggie’s husband,” she whispered. “The one who… I’m so sorry.”

  “You ought to be,” he snarled. Then, while she was puzzling over this new development, he jumped her, knocking her gun from her hand and twisting her arms behind her back. And then, just before he began to speak, her front window exploded.

  Chapter 2

  The blast slammed them to the ground. Instinctively, she covered her face with her arm, breath temporarily knocked out of her. She’d hit her head, hard enough to see stars, and thought she might be bleeding.

  What the—?

  As she struggled to suck in air, she remembered the man. Mac Lamonda. Her cousin Maggie’s widower. Lifting her head—the only part of her she could move at the moment—she saw he’d landed half on top of her. He was motionless, his sooty-lashed eyes closed. She was so stunned and shocked that for a moment she thought he was dead.

  But then he moaned and she realized he was only unconscious. Dead weight. Shifting her legs, she managed to heave him off them.

  From outside, thunder boomed, startling her. She was hot, too hot. And surrounded by smoke, clogging the thick damp air, making it difficult to breathe. Dimly she became aware that fire roared nearby. Hot. Too close.

  One of her dogs barked. Another howled from somewhere near, the sound full of terror. Her chest hurt. Her dogs. Her canine family. Hell hounds, she hoped none of them had gotten hurt. She needed to get them out—all of them. Man, dogs and herself. Now.

  But how?

  As she staggered to her feet, dread coiled in her gut. Her house was on fire. Her sister was missing. It all had to be tied together.

  Eyeing the man again, she checked his pulse, finding it steady and strong. He’d be fine, once she got him outside. After all, he was a shifter, like her except a Halfling. One of the only things that could kill their kind was fire.

  Fire. Focus. Her home was burning. She realized she must have hit her head harder than she’d realized. Everything seemed surreal. Out of kilter.

  Eyes smarting from the smoke, she looked around, trying to ascertain both the current location of the fire, and, second, if her enemies still remained nearby. Whoever they were. Whatever they were.

  Mac’s accomplices? What did they want? They already had her sister. Now they’d come for her. Apparently, they hadn’t thought Mac capable enough to do the job on his own.

  Thick black smoke rolled in. The roaring of the flames grew louder, tempered by the steady drum of rain and the hiss as the two met. She had to get out of here, now, and take the man with her. But how? He was a large man and she had no illusions as to her strength.

  One of her dogs yelped, making her aware again of the immediate danger to them, as well.

  Still, she couldn’t seem to focus.

  Damn.

  She got up, staggered to the back door and pushed it open. The instant she did, as fresh, rain-drenched air rushed in, the fire exploded in an angry roar.

  Ignoring this, she rushed to the bedroom and opened the door.

  “Come.” Amazingly, when she gave the command, her voice came out strong and certain, with no hint of panic. The terrified dogs darted past—she counted, all seven of them—barreling outside toward safety and rain and freedom. Kelly staggered after them, then remembered the man. Mac.

  “Wake up.” She shook him, wishing she were cold enough to simply leave him to his fate. After all, he deserved it. But if she got out of this—and she would—she needed him to tell her where he was holding her sister. “Please, Mac. Wake up.”

  He didn’t move. The heat, the smoke, the fire grew stronger, and still he didn’t move. She half thought that this event might be fate catching up with him. When his wife had perished, he should have died also.

  But he wouldn’t die here, because of her. Left with no choice, she hooked her hands under his armpits and began to drag. Adrenaline-fueled, she made it to the door, over the doorjamb, and outside. Despite the ache in her arms, she pulled him across the soggy grass to the edge of the trees that bordered her land. This should be far enough from the house, since she wasn’t sure if there’d be another explosion or even if the attackers—whoever they were—were still around.

  What was she thinking? Of course they were still around. They’d come for her and most likely weren’t going to leave without her.

  Her best gun. It was still inside, though she had a spare in the kennel. Even as she contemplated going back to retrieve it, fire blazed through the living room, destroying what was left of her little house. Her home. Even if there was a fire department in the area, they wouldn’t have been able to make it on time.

  Still, with a crowd of paramedics and firemen and policemen around, the attackers would be hampered from making a move. For the first time ever, she cursed living in the wilds of Wyoming. She needed help—she glanced at the man lying on his back in the wet grass—exactly what he’d been offering. Little good it did them both now. They were lucky to have made it out alive. And, she amended, fortunate all of her dogs had escaped.

  Of course, in the law of “what can go wrong, will,” the downpour slowed, becoming barely a misty drizzle instead of a downpour. Still, she knew any amount of rain would be too late to slow down the inferno. She needed to face facts—she would lose her home. Still, she was lucky.

  Mac moaned, drawing her gaze. He stirred, struggled to sit, before falling back to the damp earth. Kelly walked over to him, crouching down to help him sit up. No one had come to rescue him. Maybe she’d been wrong about the attackers being his people. Though she didn’t see how that could be, perhaps another party had jumped into the thick of things.


  “You’re okay,” she said softly. “I got you out.”

  “What the—?” He blinked, wiping at his face with his hand. “What happened?”

  As she opened her mouth to answer, another explosion sounded. Kelly winced. That had been the propane tank, on the western side of the house. The flames roared up again, spitting and hissing, undeterred by the misty rain.

  Something moved over by the barn. A shape too large to be a dog. The attackers.

  “We were attacked,” she said, leaning in close and talking urgently. “And they’re still here. For now, we’ll have to work together. Can you change?” She waited while he tried to process that information, aware they didn’t have a lot of time.

  “Change?” He nodded, wincing at the pain as he did. “I think so. Why?”

  “Because I think if we want to have a prayer of capturing them, we’re going to need to change to wolf.”

  He’d have to wait to get information from her. Worse, she’d saved him. Despite himself, Mac liked that instead of wanting to flee, she wanted to go on the offensive. Even better, she was right. Every instinct screamed in agreement that they needed to change to wolf. They could run faster, attack harder and fight fiercer.

  Crawling up to all fours, he nodded. “You first,” he said. “I’m still regaining my strength.”

  She gave him an intent look, her long-lashed green eyes appearing to glow in the murky light. “We are together, as one,” she said, immediately blanching as she spoke. “I can’t believe I just said that. But it’s necessary. Mo Anam Cara. Do you understand what this means?”

  Though a chill skittered up his spine, he didn’t—at least he didn’t think so. Yet he vaguely remembered seeing something like that in the file and, before that, hearing his wife laugh about it, calling it only superstitious nonsense. Words she was to say to protect him, though they would bind them together. Though she’d never done so and he hadn’t cared.

  And now…this woman wanted him to do what? Repeat them after her? Whatever.