“We’re going first?” First out on the full moon run meant you had the place to yourselves for a little while. As the night progressed, more pack members came and went until the whole pack had done their mandated two hours. But for those first thirty minutes…
“Yes. With me.”
Aaron glanced at the phone and then at Harry, eyes wide.
That would mean one of his betas would be joining them and whoever else was slotted to go first. “What if they call while we’re running?”
“Nick will have my phone and he’ll wait for us at the park entrance. If the police call, he’ll find us.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you both at eight.”
With nothing left to say, Sam ended the call.
They sat there in silence for a few seconds, taking in what had just happened.
“Fucking hell,” Harry muttered. “Can you imagine Smith as a shifter?”
Aaron could, and his wolf snarled inside. “He’d be even worse than he is now. No way would he adhere to pack rules or the human laws we have to abide by. Can you see him ever following an alpha?”
“No.”
“The bite would be illegal. He could go to prison himself for getting it without proper documentation. Unless…”
“Unless he said Wilson bit him without his permission.” Aaron swallowed at the implications of that. “It’d be his word against Wilson’s.”
Harry met his gaze. “Smith’d have to kill him.”
A sinking feeling settled in Aaron’s belly as he glanced out at the afternoon sun. “If he’s not already dead.”
* * * * *
“Anything?” Michael asked.
Detective Sergeant Ian Miller slipped his phone back into his pocket and shook his head. “No. They’ve checked his two rental properties and no sign of Smith or Wilson at either one. What about you?”
“Arlington says he’s not been near his coffee shops, and they’re still waiting to hear from Frank and DS Price.”
“Fuck.” Miller ran a hand through his hair and turned in a circle. “Now what?”
They stood outside Daryl White’s home. No one was in, and according to the cleaner they’d met when they arrived, White hadn’t been home in a couple of days.
Where the fuck is he?
Miller walked over to him and leant against the wall surrounding the front of White’s house. “You said if he’d been bitten, then he’d need somewhere private while he goes through the change, right?”
“Yes. According to the council, White will go through something not unlike a bad case of the flu whether the bite takes or not.”
“So, he’s going to be vulnerable. He’d want people he trusted with him.”
Michael nodded. “Like Blake and the others he keeps close.”
“Blake for sure. We’ve got plenty of photos of them together, he rarely leaves White’s side. Maybe a couple of the others.”
“Come on. Let’s head back to SCTF headquarters.” Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he added, “There’s no point hanging around here.” A check of his watch told him they had two hours before the sunset. That meant an hour before Alpha Wallace’s time frame began, and knowing their luck, Smith would be one of those who changed lightning quick.
The SCTF offices were unusually busy when they arrived, but Frank still wasn’t back.
Arlington met them as they neared Michael’s desk.
“Have we got any leads?” Michael asked him. “Anything?” He gestured to the clock. “We’re running out of time.”
“I’m aware,” Arlington replied. “And no. We’ve searched all of his businesses and properties. The fucker’s vanished.”
“What about his bodyguards,” Miller suggested. “Has anyone checked out their homes, yet?”
Nodding, Arlington said, “Stewart and Bridgford are chasing their addresses now.”
“Blake’s the one he trusts the most, according to what Aaron’s seen at the fights,” Michael said, confused by Arlington’s raised eyebrows until he realised he’d called Aaron by his first name. Deciding that any attempt at an explanation would only dig a bigger hole, he ignored it. “I’d suggest we start there.”
“Agreed.” Arlington eyed him suspiciously but didn’t comment. “You and Miller take Blake’s house. Take Stewart and Bridgford with you for backup.”
“Yes, sir.”
They didn’t have long to wait. Fifteen minutes later, they were on their way to Blake’s.
* * * * *
“Bollocks!” Michael holstered his Glock and looked at Miller. “What are we missing?”
Blake’s house was as empty as White’s. But there was no sign of anyone leaving in a hurry. If Blake was with White, then it was something they’d planned ahead of time, not a spur-of-the-moment thing.
Stewart and Bridgford joined them in the living room. “We found this stuck to the fridge.” He held up a photo of a small cottage surrounded by trees. The edges were a little worn. “It says Abingdon on the back.” He flipped the picture and showed it to them.
“Jesus Christ, that’s about two hours from here.”
“You think they could’ve gone there?” Miller took the photo and studied it. “It looks isolated enough. They’d have privacy.”
“That’s a long drive with a captive shifter,” Stewart remarked. “Maybe Smith was bitten here and they killed Wilson before setting off?”
“Maybe.” Michael glanced at the photo. The more he looked at it, the more it felt right. “The only thing we know for sure at the minute is they’re not here. Let’s head back. I’ll call Arlington on the way and see what they can tell us about this place.”
By the time they got back, they had an address. Turned out Blake’s grandmother had owned the lodge and left it to him when she died six months ago.
“Do we think they could be there?” Stewart asked, studying the photograph. “It’s a long way to go if we’re wrong.”
Frank walked over, a piece of paper in hand. “I just spoke to one of the bar staff at Smith’s club. After we left, she said she remembered Smith talking to Blake and West about some new weekend cottage he’d just bought in Abingdon. She said he thanked Blake for taking him there in the first place. Then laughed about how his mother always called him a worthless piece of shit, and this was somewhere she’d always wanted to live, so he bought it as a fuck you.”
“What’s his mother’s name? Is she still alive?”
Frank sighed. “She is, but she’s in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s. I phoned the home, the nurses say she won’t be of much help.”
“Shit.” The timer went off on Michael’s phone—the one he’d set when they’d started looking for White. Eight o’clock. “According to Alpha Wallace’s estimations, we just ran out of time.”
Muttered cursing filled the room.
Arlington came out of his office, hands on hips. “Where are we?”
Michael immediately told him about Blake’s cottage, followed by Frank repeating what he’d found out about White.
“I’m just waiting to hear back from the estate agents in the area, see if I can pin down an address,” Frank added.
“At this point, we have to assume White’s going through the change and that there’s a strong possibility he’ll already be a shifter when we get there. With any luck, he’ll be one of those who it doesn’t work for, but be prepared for the worst scenario.” Turning to Michael he said, “Call Thomas and tell him we need backup. I’m not sending you to a house where two hostile shifters could be waiting for you.”
Frank’s phone rang and he excused himself to take the call. Everyone waited, listening unashamedly when it became obvious it was an estate agent calling him back. A few seconds later he ended the call, looking far too pleased for it not to have been good news. “Got an address.” He waved his phone as a text came through. “White paid above the asking price on the proviso it would all go through before today. That was his only stipulation.”
“
Why didn’t this place come up when we checked earlier,” Arlington demanded. He focused on Miller. “I thought you knew everything there was to know about White.”
“So did we.” Miller looked as surprised as the rest of them.
“He bought it through… Newton Holdings. Newton is his mother’s maiden name.”
“Nice touch.” Michael rolled his eyes.
“Yep,” Frank agreed. “The estate agent only remembered his name because he gave her the wrong business card at first and got all in a piss about it.” He faced Arlington. “I’d like to take this one. I know it’s about a two-hour drive, but we’ve searched all our other options in the city.”
Arlington nodded. “Take Stewart and Bridgford with you. And at least two of the Clapham Common pack. More if they’re willing.”
“Yes, sir.”
Michael still held the photo they’d taken from Blake’s fridge. “What about Blake’s place? Weird they had places so close by, but that was par for the course with this case.” White’s new cottage was bigger, had more land and seemed like the obvious choice, but… “It’s just down the road from where Frank’s heading. We can take a look and then meet up with them if they need us. I think it’s worth checking out.”
“Why not check it out if White’s place is a bust?”
“Because by then, White could have already changed.”
Arlington hummed, clearly thinking it over, and Michael could tell from his expression that he wasn’t happy about any of this. “Fine, but make sure you have backup too.”
“What about the council members?” Michael said, “Shouldn’t they be on their way by now?”
“They’re setting off in the next half hour. I’ll call and see if they can meet you and Frank at Abingdon instead.” Arlington seemed marginally happier at the thought of having more alphas as their backup. Which was more than could be said for the Met and City police who were helping them. Even Miller looked a little green at the idea.
Michael nudged him. “Trust me. We want them on our side if there’s any trouble tonight.”
Miller grunted in reply. Michael couldn’t decide if that was in agreement or not, so he let it go.
“Keep me updated.” Arlington headed back into his office.
Frank gestured to his desk. “Shall we?” He reached for his phone. After dialling Sam’s number, he frowned, then started talking. “Sam’s beta,” he mouthed. After finishing the call, he turned to Michael. “Sam, Isaac, Harry, and Aaron are on their full moon run. That was Nick.” He waved his phone. “He’s going to go get them and fill them in. I’ve texted him the addresses. He said Sam and the others’ll meet us there.”
“Right, let’s get ready and go.”
Thirty minutes later, with everyone wearing body armour and the SCTF members fully armed with both their Glocks and high-powered Tasers, they set off for just outside of Abingdon.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Aaron loped through the park, chasing after Harry. The damp grass felt cool under the pads of his paws, the slight breeze ruffling his fur. Even with everything going on in his life, this form allowed him to escape for a little while. His wolf was grey, with darker paws, ears, and muzzle. Harry always teased him that his hair’d end up that colour soon enough.
Stopping to sniff the air, he got a whiff of Harry’s scent again and chased after it until he caught up to him by the tree line. Playing a game of tag, they nipped each other’s heels, swerving in and out of the trees until Sam’s huge silver wolf appeared, stopping them in their tracks.
Fuck.
Aaron’s heart stuttered, then set off at a gallop. Had they found Wilson or Smith? Both?
Sam had avoided them up until now, preferring to run on his own with Isaac. They’d sensed his presence now and again, but he’d left them to their own devices once they’d shifted. The fact that he’d sought them out could only mean one thing.
With a low growl, Sam turned and ran towards where their clothes were stashed. Aaron immediately followed him, Harry hot on his heels.
Isaac was waiting for them when they reached the bench at the edge of the park—dressed, car keys in hand. “We need to hurry. The SCTF are already on their way to a house in Abingdon where they think Smith and possibly Wilson are holed up.”
Sam changed back, rolling his shoulders as he straightened. He made it look so easy, when Aaron knew that the pain for that split second of transition was excruciating. Bracing himself, he focused on his human form, pictured it as clearly as he could, and let his body do the rest.
It hurt. It always hurt, but after almost eleven years of shifting into his wolf form, the pain was part of him. The three of them dressed as Isaac filled in more of the details.
“Apparently Smith just bought a cottage there with the proviso he could be in it this weekend.”
Sam frowned as he zipped up his jeans. “So they’re pretty sure this is the place?”
Isaac shrugged. “I assume so. I guess none of the other places turned up anything.”
Glancing up at the now-dark sky, Sam sighed. “And they need us because Smith could be a shifter by the time they find him.”
Fully clothed, they followed Isaac to his SUV, only to find two there waiting with Nick leaning against the door of the second.
“They asked for as many people as we could spare,” Isaac offered. “I figured another beta should do it. At the worst, there’s going to be Wilson and Smith to deal with. I think between five of us, we can handle them easily enough.”
Sam nodded, then walked towards Nick. “You three go together. I’ll travel with Nick and bring him up to speed on the way.”
The thought of someone else knowing the mess he and Harry had made of things sucked, but on the other hand, Aaron was surprised Nick didn’t already know. He felt a new wave of respect for his Alpha and was forever grateful he and Harry had ended up in this pack and not under an alpha like Stephen Newell. The thought made him shudder—they’d all heard the stories about the late Primrose Hill alpha.
As they set off, excitement curled in Aaron’s belly, despite the grim reason for their going. At least he’d get to see Michael again. And if they found Smith and Wilson, and could prove who’d killed those three people, the case would be closed and Aaron wouldn’t be part of it any more. Then he could see Michael without anything coming between them.
Do I want that?
He closed his eyes, head resting against the seat back, and tried to remember Michael’s scent, the way he’d felt pressed against him the last time they kissed.
Yes, I want that again.
They’d barely scratched the surface, but Aaron knew deep in his bones that it could be good between them. Better than anything else he’d experienced so far if he went on instinct alone. The residual ache left by their brief encounter had faded, but it was still there, tucked behind his ribs and Aaron clung to it, not willing to let go.
They just needed to get this next part over with and then he’d convince Michael they had something worth pursuing. An SCTF member and a shifter weren’t going to have an easy ride, but then, nothing worthwhile was ever easy.
Aaron stayed sat with his head tilted back as Harry chatted to Isaac in the front of the car. They were in for a two-hour journey from what Isaac had said, and Aaron already knew it would feel like a lot longer.
The pull of the moon still called to him, but the run had helped calm his wolf enough for him to settle into his seat and not fidget. With Smith being a newly turned shifter, who knew how he’d handle his first full moon? And Wilson? Had he been kept sedated all this time? Restrained? Or had he just decided to fuck over his pack and join Smith? Either way, Aaron hoped the police had enough sense not to go into that house before Aaron and his pack members arrived. Guns or not, things could easily turn nasty.
* * * * *
They arrived just over an hour and forty-five minutes after setting off. Frank did the driving. Miller and Price sat in the back.
“Told you you had a lead
foot.” Michael grimaced, peeling his fingers off the grab handle above the door.
Frank grunted. “We’re in a hurry, aren’t we?”
The sky had darkened considerably. This far out of London the stars shone clearly in the sky. “Yeah, we are.”
Arlington had given them strict orders not to enter Smith’s house without either the Clapham Common pack or the alpha council members as backup. Both were en route. It was a toss-up as to who would arrive first.
Pulling to a stop on the road a little way down from Smith’s cottage, Frank gripped the steering wheel and sighed. “This is ridiculous. We’ve handled shifters before. It’s what we’re trained for. Why do we need babysitters?”
Shrugging, Michael peered out through the windscreen, straining to see anything up ahead. “We don’t know how many of his bodyguards Smith has with him. Or if Wilson’s a prisoner or an accomplice. He’s just erring on the side of caution.”
“Hmm.”
Stewart and Bridgford pulled up behind them. Bridgford got out and walked over to knock on their window, so Frank lowered it.
“What’s the plan?” he asked.
Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, Frank said, “Think you can get a look at the house, check for signs of life without being seen?” All the houses along this road were set far enough back that you couldn’t easily see the road.
“Sure.” Bridgford grinned. “Better than you two idiots, anyway.”
Michael gave him the finger, making Bridgford laugh. He ducked below the hedge that ran along the edge of the gardens butting up to the pavement and hunched over as he jogged down to the end of Smith’s—he really should think of him as White—driveway. According to the description the estate agent had sent them, the drive was about forty feet long and curved around to the left. Bridgford should be able to get a decent look at the house without giving himself away.
They waited for him to return.
Frank continued to tap his fingers, and Michael pulled out his phone. Not for the first time since they’d set off, he thought about texting Aaron. This was work, though. He’d told him he’d keep his distance. And he needed to be one hundred per cent focused when they went into White’s home. Slipping it back into his pocket again, he sighed and rested his head against the window, only to jump a mile when Bridgford reappeared.
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