Midnight Wolf

by Jennifer Ashley

  Tamsin tasted joy in every second of her life, Angus realized. She was on the run, being hunted by Shifter Bureau, wanted in connection with Angus’s brother’s activities and more recently a murder, and yet she took time to find delight in a simple love song.

  Angus had once had that joy in him. It had surged when Ciaran was born, when he’d held his tiny cub in his hands, marveling that this was his son.

  The song wound down. The next had a jumpy, rock beat and was about a man and his lady making love somewhere along a back road.

  Tamsin sang this one word for word, and Ciaran joined in, his treble cutting through Tamsin’s faulty alto. Angus hadn’t known Ciaran liked country music, especially the kind with raunchy lyrics.

  The truck filled with song, and with laughter when Tamsin and Ciaran both attempted a sexy “mmm-hmm” in the middle. Tamsin’s laugh was as musical as what came through the radio.

  Something inside Angus loosened as he drove through the darkness, the voices of his son and the fiery woman he’d rescued weaving together and nestling in his heart.

  * * *

  • • •

  Texas was much bigger than Tamsin had imagined. Less than an hour after they left Lake Charles, they were crossing the border, heralded by nothing but a green sign that read “Texas State Line.” They came to a turnoff to a travel information center with tall flagpoles poking up beside the freeway. Tamsin wanted to stop, but Angus sailed past.

  Another hour and a half and they were in Houston, a giant city that went on endlessly. Two hours after they left the heart of Houston, they were in a dark, flat, empty plain that stretched all around them. Still Texas, Angus said. They’d traversed only one small part of it.

  It wasn’t simply the distance Tamsin felt. The land opened up around them, the darkness beyond the road unbroken by lights, buildings, trees. The sky arched high above, dark and silent. This was a place of vast spaces and silences.

  The radio was off now that Tamsin and Ciaran had sung every song they could, some of them twice. When the stations segued into endless commercials, Tamsin had shut off the noise, and Ciaran slid into sleep.

  “You don’t look happy,” Tamsin said to Angus.

  Angus gazed down the road, one hand resting negligently on the large steering wheel. She believed him when he said he’d once done this for a living—he drove in a relaxed way, as though far more used to taking a rig across country than chasing fugitives through swamps.

  He glanced briefly at her. “Why am I supposed to look happy? My cub should be home in bed, waiting for me to get back from the club. Instead I’m in a borrowed truck, heading down the freeway in the opposite direction.”

  “I mean, you don’t seem relieved you’re taking me to a safe place. What’s wrong?”

  Angus let out a breath, not looking surprised she’d read him right. “I don’t know. Maybe I just feel like it’s too easy.”

  “Mmm.” Tamsin studied the road ahead of them, other vehicles few and far between now. “I think it’s more than that.”

  “Probably.” Angus shifted in his seat, his left hand coming to join his right on the wheel. “My instincts don’t like the idea of going to Kendrick’s. What if Shifter Bureau follows us there? That’s a huge chunk of innocent Shifters to put in danger.”

  “But no one is following us,” Tamsin pointed out. They’d seen no signs of pursuit since New Orleans.

  “I know—that bugs me too. How did we lose Haider so easily? Why didn’t they have Shifter Bureau people all over the place at the Texas border? Shifters aren’t allowed to cross into other states without permission, so it’s a great place to put a checkpoint.”

  Tamsin had been having the same thoughts, but she’d tried to put them aside. She’d learned to worry about the here and now, not possibilities, to be cautious but not paranoid.

  “Maybe they’re tracking us, sitting back to see where we go. Is there GPS on this truck? Or was there on Reg’s SUV?”

  “Dimitri would have taken out any GPS devices before he lugged the cab out of the junkyard. Reg would know if someone had stuck a tracker on his SUV, and he’d have told me. Wouldn’t have brought us the SUV at all, if that were the case. You can’t surreptitiously track a Shifter vehicle—all Shifters know their cars and trucks and motorcycles inside and out. We have to work on them constantly to keep them running.” Angus huffed a short laugh. “Shiftertowns are great places to learn auto mechanics.”

  “Or Haider already knows about this guy Kendrick and will be waiting for us at his compound.”

  Angus shook his head. “Kendrick is careful. I’ve never met anyone so careful. Dimitri and Jaycee had to talk a long time before he let me out there a few months ago when they had their sun and moon ceremonies. Kendrick doesn’t trust anyone. I had to swear to keep the location of the compound a deep, dark secret, on pain of death. Which I have.”

  “Except now you’ve told me. Maybe that’s what your instincts are warning you about. I could be a spy, leading Shifter Bureau right to your friends.”

  “You could be,” Angus said without worry. “But I saw how terrified you were when I took you to Haider. You kept your chin up, but I know you were afraid.”

  Tamsin shivered. She’d been arrested before, interrogated by Bureau agents before, but never had she met one with eyes as cold as Haider’s. “I don’t know what’s up with him, but he has pure hatred in him. More than what should come from him believing I killed those agents in Shreveport.”

  “Which you said you didn’t do.” Angus glanced at her, the gray of his eyes glinting. “I believe you.”

  Tamsin remembered telling him about Dion, right before he’d kissed her. Her lips tingled and she went on hastily. “Yeah? How do you know I wasn’t feeding you a line of bull?”

  “Instincts again. They’re pretty good. I can imagine you spitting on Shifter Bureau agents, telling them off, pulling down your pants and mooning them, but I can’t see you going insane and clawing them to death. Anyway, that was done by a larger Shifter, a Feline or Lupine. Your claws aren’t big enough to have made those marks I saw in the photos.”

  Tamsin looked at her hand, her pale fingers that never could hold a tan. “No, they’re not.”

  “So why is Haider so interested in you?” Angus asked.

  “He knows what I am.” Tamsin folded her arms over her stomach, moving uncomfortably. It hadn’t bothered her for Angus to find out her true nature, but it had creeped her out when Haider had showed her the video. “He has footage of me shifting to my fox. He had it on his phone and played it with a big smirk on his face. He wants to dissect me. That’s why I ran, why we’re here right now.”

  Angus turned to stare at her, and Tamsin kept her face straight. She suspected that Haider wanted to know not only Tamsin’s secrets but Gavan’s, which Tamsin wanted to keep tucked firmly into her brain.

  Angus jerked his attention back to the road. “I’m glad you ran. I’ll dissect Haider if I see him again.”

  “You didn’t have to help me. I keep telling you to let me out, and I’ll go off on my own.”

  Angus scowled. “I wasn’t going to leave you for Haider to catch again. I’m not that much of a dickhead.”

  “But it’s my problem. My whole life is my problem. Nothing to do with you.”

  “It became my problem when Haider came into the club and ordered me to find you,” Angus said angrily. “When he took Ciaran from me. When he said you worked with my brother. I decided to make it my problem.”

  Tamsin lifted her brows, hiding her nervousness. “I sense a big sibling rivalry here. I mean, more than your mate running off with him, the ungrateful cow. Want to talk about it?”

  “No,” Angus said, the word abrupt.

  “Struck another nerve, did I? You have a lot of those.”

  “Why are you so interested in counseling me? I could ask you—”


  The jangling noise of his cell phone cut into his speech. Angus snarled and grabbed the phone from his belt, flipping it open. The good thing about an old-style cell phone was that it didn’t have tracking in it. Tamsin had ditched her smartphone and used burners if she used cell phones at all.

  Angus checked the number calling before he said a cautious, “What?”

  A voice came through, male, with an Irish accent. “Sean here. My dad wants a word.”

  “Does he? Then why isn’t Dylan calling me? Never mind—put him on.”

  “I don’t mean he’s here with me. Our dad is never that straightforward. He wants a meet.”

  “Don’t have time. Busy. I’ll catch him later.”

  The easygoing lilt in Sean’s voice changed, the man’s dominance coming through to Tamsin. “It’s not a suggestion. Dylan says it’s urgent, and I’m not to let you blow him off. His very words. I know you’re driving Dimitri’s souped-up rig, and I know you’re heading to Kendrick’s, so take a turn north and meet in our usual spot. Please don’t make me tell him you’re not coming.”

  “I have Ciaran with me. I’m not racing off for one of his meetings with my cub.”

  “Dylan knows Ciaran’s with you,” Sean went on. “He says bring him. And the red-haired woman. Do it for me, Angus. If I can’t persuade you, I’ll never hear the end of it. Don’t do that to me, my friend. Take pity on me, please.”

  Angus’s jaw tightened so much Tamsin feared he’d break his teeth. “Fine,” he snarled. “I’ll be there.”

  He snapped the phone closed and tossed it down, slamming his hand back to the wheel as though resisting the urge to crush the phone in his bare hand.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Jaycee mentioned Dylan,” Tamsin said, sounding casual. “Who is this guy?”

  Angus didn’t look at her. He sped up, feeling the need to move faster. “Dylan Morrissey. Full of himself Shifter with way too much power.”

  Sean’s statement that Dylan, former Shiftertown leader of Austin and now a liaison between Shiftertowns in South Texas, knew about Tamsin made Angus’s hackles rise. Every misgiving leapt into his brain.

  On the other hand, he knew Dylan would track them down more diligently than Haider ever could, and at this moment, Angus wasn’t certain which man was more dangerous.

  “You agreed to meet with him,” Tamsin said. “Why, if you don’t like him?”

  “Because he’s Dylan. He’ll find me if he wants to.”

  “Dad works for him.” Ciaran’s sleepy voice came from the back. “At least sort of works for him. I don’t know what he does for him.”

  Angus kept his mouth solidly closed. Dylan had approached Angus a few months ago, right after Dimitri and Jaycee’s mating ceremony, with a proposition. He was quietly gathering Shifters to train for a fight against the Fae, who were gearing up on their side of the gates for a full-scale war. The Fae were coercing Shifters to fight for them, promising them all kinds of shit if they would become the Battle Beasts like in the old days.

  Dylan and his sons, and other Shifter leaders like Kendrick, believed the Fae had been instrumental in having the Shifters exposed to humans, Collared, and rounded up into Shiftertowns. The Collars could be triggered by special swords the Fae had made, another method of keeping the Shifters under their power.

  Shifters, led by Dylan, were secretly removing the Collars—a slow and laborious process—and replacing them with fake ones. The weaker and less dominant Shifters were being freed first as they would suffer the most if the Fae came.

  The Fae had more tricks up their flowing sleeves, however. They were busy recruiting Shifters who were devout Goddess worshippers, filling their heads with the nonsense that the Goddess—who’d created Fae as well as Shifters—wanted the two reunited.

  Angus had spent some time in Faerie during his adventure with Jaycee and Dimitri, and he had firsthand knowledge that the Fae were cruel and crazy bastards who would do anything to win.

  Angus hadn’t talked about what he did for Dylan to anyone, least of all Ciaran. He did not need those he loved to be tortured for his illegal activities. The less they knew, the better.

  “This is interesting.” Tamsin was studying Angus, the lights from the dashboard glowing on her face. “Do you trust him?”

  “Dylan used to be the Shiftertown leader in Austin. Stepped down so his son could take over. Retired.”

  Tamsin cocked her head. “Retired? Didn’t know Shiftertown leaders could do that. In the wild, when a clan leader got too old, he let his son kill him and the Guardian send him to the Goddess.”

  “Times have changed.”

  “Obviously. And I thank the Goddess for it. I’m just surprised. Maybe I should meet this Dylan. I like a Shifter who changes the rules.”

  “He changes the rules to suit himself and his purposes. Don’t trust him.”

  “I didn’t say I’d trust him. I said I wanted to meet him. Big difference.”

  Tamsin leaned sideways against the seat to watch him, her body drooping. It had been a long day and night for her—for all of them. She needed rest and so did he. Another reason a summons from Dylan was not welcome.

  Angus took an exit to leave the I-10 and headed north. The highway he turned onto snaked toward Bastrop, east of Austin. The farms around them rendered the night black, few buildings in sight, though city lights were a faint glow against the sky in the west and south.

  In a town that was close enough to Austin to see its lights, but far away enough from its Shiftertown and South Texas Shifter Bureau for secrecy, Angus pulled into the parking lot of a small, two-story chain motel.

  He turned off the engine and the lights, letting the quiet and stillness fill the cab. “I’ll go in and see what he wants. You and Ciaran use the bed, try to get some sleep.”

  “No way,” Ciaran said immediately, his words echoed by Tamsin’s, “Nothing doing.”

  “We stick together,” Ciaran finished.

  “He’s right.” Tamsin unbuckled her seat belt. “Whatever this Dylan wants, we face it. Besides, there’s nothing to say he won’t have some of his guys stationed out here to nab us while you’re talking to him. Dylan sounds like the type to have henchmen, am I right? Trackers loyal to him?”

  Tamsin was completely correct. Angus was one of those henchmen now, and Dylan would expect Angus to obey him.

  “Anyway,” Tamsin said, not realizing Angus had already agreed. “This looks like a decent place to get some shut-eye. I’d prefer a bed that isn’t on wheels.”

  “All right. We all go.” Angus bent a glare on Ciaran. “But both of you, stay quiet. No talking until we find out what Dylan wants. I mean it, Ciaran. He can be tricky, and his motives aren’t always clear.”

  Ciaran looked puzzled. “He’s one of the good guys, isn’t he? He doesn’t like Shifter Bureau either.”

  “Dylan is his own person.” Angus knew this for a fact. “He’s on the side of Shifters, yes, but that doesn’t mean we can trust him completely.”

  Dylan had been known to kill Shifters, and even humans, who endangered other Shifters, especially those who endangered his family.

  Sean’s directions led them to a room on the second floor in the back of the motel, the position Angus would have chosen. The motel was in a U shape around a central pool, with all doors facing inward. From the room in the center back, Dylan could watch all comings and goings.

  Angus had Ciaran firmly by one hand, with Tamsin holding Ciaran’s other hand. Angus didn’t think Dylan would hurt a cub—he was a doting grandfather to his sons’ cubs—but Angus had no intention of letting Ciaran be anywhere but plastered to his side.

  Angus knocked. The door was opened, cautiously, not by Dylan but by his son Sean, a Shifter with deep black hair and very blue eyes. The hilt of the Sword of the Guardian stuck up over his shoulder.

  Sean was a
little more easygoing than his older brother, Liam, and far more than his father, Dylan. Guardians tended to be more thoughtful than other Shifters, having seen enough of death to not want to court it.

  Sean’s presence either meant Dylan was in a negotiating mood, or that he’d need someone to quickly send their dead bodies to dust.

  No one spoke until all three visiting Shifters were inside and Sean closed the door.

  “Dylan,” Angus said in greeting.

  Dylan, who waited in the exact center of the room, had hair as dark as Sean’s and eyes as blue. The only sign of Dylan’s venerable three hundred years of age was a bit of gray hair at his temples.

  “Angus,” Dylan returned. He gave Ciaran a cordial nod as well—Dylan did not like to pretend cubs weren’t in the room.

  Sean moved to the cabinet under the television and opened it to reveal a small refrigerator. “Want anything? I have water and . . . water. No minibar in this room, such a sad thing.”

  “Ciaran will have a water,” Angus rumbled.

  Sean came out of the refrigerator with two water bottles dripping with condensation. He handed one to Ciaran, who looked pleased at being waited on by Sean, a Shifter he admired.

  Sean held out the second bottle to Tamsin, giving her an inquiring look.

  “I’ll take a large latte with whipped cream and a mountain of chocolate sprinkles,” Tamsin said, and shrugged. “Or I could settle for water.” She gave Sean one of her giant smiles as she accepted the bottle from him. She opened it and leaned back to drink half of it down. “Ahh,” she said as she came up, swiping her hand across her mouth. “I needed that.”

  Ciaran watched her in fascination, and then mimicked her. “Ahh. I needed that too.”

  Sean’s eyes twinkled, but Dylan became suddenly more watchful.

  What had he expected—a meek, terrified little Shifter falling at Dylan’s feet and begging him to be gentle with her?