by Paige Tyler
Triana felt her jaw drop as Remy gave her hand a tug and started for the door, Cooper in tow. Crap. They weren’t really doing this, were they?
Well, this was probably going to be interesting. Then again, something told her everything in her life would be more interesting now that Remy was in it.
Chapter 20
Triana sat at the picnic table beside Cooper’s wife, Everly, watching Remy and the other members of the Pack on the volleyball court as they kicked up sand and laughed like a bunch of kids. Running around without a shirt, sweat glistening on that perfect body of his, Remy looked good enough to eat. She had to admit she appreciated some of the other guys out there too, particularly the ones displaying that wolf head tattoo on the left side of their chests. They weren’t Remy, but they were fine.
“If the Pack gets any larger,” Everly remarked, pushing back her long hair, “I think we’re going to need a bigger volleyball court. Between the SWAT guys, Jayna’s pack, my brother, and the new betas, the place is getting crowded.”
Triana laughed. Everly was quickly becoming her closest friend in Dallas. The other woman seemed so comfortable talking about werewolves, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Triana, on the other hand, sometimes still had to pinch herself as a reminder she wasn’t dreaming and really did live in a world where werewolves existed. Thinking about it now, it was hard not laughing at the crazy notions she used to have. She thought she knew everything about how the world worked, but it turned out she was still learning.
Fortunately, there were a lot of people around to teach her what she needed to know. In addition to Everly, there were the other wives and girlfriends, as well as Khaki Blake, the female alpha she’d heard so much about. Then there was the Pack doctor.
She’d spent hours talking to Dr. Saunders about werewolves. While she’d been surprised the Pack had a primary care provider, she was glad to finally have someone she could talk to about werewolves in a language she understood. As for Dr. Saunders, he was stoked at the thought of being able to do a DNA profile of the daughter of a known werewolf. The possibilities of what they could learn seemed endless.
A familiar laugh by the grill interrupted her musings, and Triana looked over to see her mother shaking her head as a shirtless Max leaned in and tasted the jambalaya they were making. Her mom was in town for the week, visiting and getting to know Remy’s extended family—the Pack.
It had been a crazy three weeks since she and Remy had gotten together. In every possible way, her whole life had changed that night in New Orleans when she admitted her love for the charming werewolf. Since then, she’d quit her job in Houston, packed up everything she owned, moved in with Remy, applied for and got a new job with the Dallas ME’s office, and become a member of the Pack. She’d never been happier in her life.
Remy had asked her to move to Dallas the same night he’d rescued her from Quinn and Lee. Since she’d already decided she was going to spend the rest of her life with him, it only made sense to start by moving in with him. The thought of asking him to leave his pack after what she’d seen Cooper and the other guys do for him was out of the question.
She, Remy, and Cooper had only walked a couple of blocks that night in the Lower Ninth Ward before Brooks had pulled up beside them in an NOPD vehicle, as if picking up naked pack mates out for a stroll was a common occurrence for him. She had no clue how the other werewolf had known where they were, but she hadn’t been about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She and the guys had climbed in and gone back to the dock to grab Remy’s and Cooper’s clothes.
The driver of the Cadillac must have survived getting yanked out of the moving vehicle because he wasn’t on the street when she and the guys walked out of the house. As for Lee and Quinn, no one had found their bodies for two days. By the time someone finally stumbled over them, rats had gotten to them and made a mess of everything. The police seemed to think one of Lee’s enemies had killed them and promptly shelved the investigation. After seeing how quickly her father’s murder had been shoved to the back burner, Triana wasn’t surprised. No one really cared who’d killed Quinn and Lee. Everyone was simply glad they were gone.
Triana would have felt a lot better about how things ended if they’d been able to come up with information about the hunters who had actually murdered her father. But at the moment, all they knew about the elusive hunters was that they were dangerous, liked to kill werewolves, and were getting more aggressive.
A few days after she’d left her job in Houston, her friend from the lab there had called saying she’d found an alarming number of murder victims—twenty-two in a period of two years—that had come back with animal tranquilizers in their systems. And those were just the ones who had been found. Her friend said there was a good chance the number was double or triple that since there were a lot of cities and towns that wouldn’t bother with a full toxicology screening on someone who’d obviously been shot to death.
Her friend thought there was a good chance the FBI had taken notice of these murders and were looking at the situation as a potential serial killer case. The only thing that seemed to have them hesitating was the complete lack of connection between the victims. The murders had occurred all across the country and the victims had come from every walk of life. They’d been farmers, teachers, stay-at-home mothers, college students, military veterans, even a firefighter.
When Triana mentioned her father had been killed in the same way, her friend had sent her copies of everything she’d collected. Triana and Remy had spent hours poring over the files with the other members of the Pack. There was no way to know if all the people who’d been killed were werewolves, but the fact that every single victim had been shot in the head seemed to support that conclusion. That being the case, they had to face the extreme possibility there was a large group of hunters out there doing everything they could to track down werewolves and kill them.
Triana was still thinking about what that meant for her and her new friends when the game broke up. Remy, her mother, and several other members of the Pack, including Brooks and Cooper, joined her and Everly at the table while the rest crowded around Max over by the grill. The Pack’s two adorable mascots—a pit bull mix named Tuffie and a lab mix named Leo—walked around and made puppy eyes at everyone, begging for something of their own. Based on how much they got, it was obvious they were very good at it.
Remy slipped a hand around her waist and grazed his warm lips across the skin of her neck, making her shiver.
On the other side of the table, her mother smiled fondly at them. While the subject hadn’t come up yet, Triana knew her mom was already thinking about whom to invite to their wedding.
She was about to ask Remy what had ended the game so soon when she saw Gage Dixon—the Pack alpha—and his wife, Mackenzie, talking to some new arrivals to the party. Their group consisted of three women, a guy, and a little girl who couldn’t have been any more than four.
“Who’s that?” she asked curiously.
“It’s a beta pack,” her mother said.
Remy looked at her mother in surprise. “Okay, I can smell they’re werewolves, and I assumed they were betas from the size. How did you know?”
Her mom shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I’ve been around werewolves since I was a teenager, so I seem to recognize them when I see them. The same way you know someone has blond hair or blue eyes, I suppose.”
Triana shook her head, both amazed at what her mother was able to do and by the appearance of another beta pack at the compound.
“That’s the third group of betas that has shown up here in the past two weeks,” Zane remarked as he sat down with a plate of ribs and a bowl of jambalaya. “Counting the omegas who have moved into the area, there must be close to twenty new werewolves in the city.”
Her mother’s gaze once again drifted to the group talking to Gage, but this time worry creased her brow. “They’re trying to get close to
your alpha pack for protection.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Triana asked. “Strength in numbers and all.”
At the next table over, Brooks nodded. “Definitely. There’s no way hunters would come after a pack this size.”
“You don’t think so?” her mother asked, turning to look at the SWAT werewolf. “Haven’t you stopped to wonder why all these other werewolves have started showing up now? Why so many members of your pack have been finding their soul mates all of a sudden? Why some of your pack, including Remy, are learning how to fully shift into a wolf when the need arises?”
Beside Everly, Cooper frowned. “Are you saying that each of us finding The One wasn’t just random chance?”
Her mom shook her head. “I don’t think so. Most werewolves consider the legend of The One to be just that—a legend. That’s because it usually only happens once in a generation, if that. To have it happen this many times in one pack should be impossible.”
“But it is happening,” Remy pointed out.
Her mother nodded solemnly. “Yes, it is. Sometimes, when a pack is in danger, it will do things to protect itself, such as other werewolves joining or members finding their mates. Not necessarily soul mates, but mates who will make the pack stronger. That’s what’s happening now, only more extreme.” She sighed. “In addition to betas and omegas joining your pack, more of you are learning how to shift completely into wolves. Not only are you finding soul mates, but each of you are finding The One as well. All of that means there’s a major threat to the Pack, one so extreme that even a pack of this many alphas may not be able to handle it.”
Silence descended on the group, worry reflected in everyone’s eyes.
Triana’s stomach clenched. She’d lost her father to these damn hunters. She refused to even think about losing anyone else she cared about. Maybe it was because of the bond she shared with Remy, but she already cared deeply about everyone here.
Having someone who could pick up on her emotions was a good thing in this case, since Remy leaned over and wrapped a big, strong arm around her, lending her some of that strength to help her feel safe.
“Are you regretting moving here and putting yourself in the middle of all this?” he asked softly in her ear.
“No, of course not! I love you. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “And don’t even consider pulling any of that I-love-you-too-much-to put-you-in-danger crap. Because I’m telling you right now, I’m not putting up with it.”
Remy pulled her close again, giving her a kiss that warmed her all the way down to her toes. “You won’t have to. If there’s any danger, I want you right beside me where I can keep an eye on you. I love you more than anything in the world, and I refuse to let anything come between us.”
“Do you think the hunters will come here?” she asked. “Do you think they’ll really try to take on the Pack?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But if they do, we’re going to be ready for them. And they’re going to learn that this pack isn’t like anything they’ve ever dealt with before. We’re used to facing bad guys, killers, and psychopaths on a daily basis, and because of that, we’re a pack bound together in ways these people could never imagine. If the hunters come here, we’ll deal with them together—as a pack.”
Around them, everyone voiced their agreement. Max, who was still over by the grill, tipped his bottle of beer in Remy’s direction. “Damn straight we will. As a pack.”
As everyone began eating and laughing again, Gage walked over with the new betas, introducing everyone.
Triana leaned in and kissed Remy, smiling up at him. “As a pack,” she whispered.
For more Paige Tyler
check out the X-Ops series
Her Dark Half
On sale September 2017
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in Paige Tyler’s action-packed X-Ops series
Her Dark Half
Adana, Turkey, 2013
“Crap on a stick! Why the heck did the weather have to pick tonight to unload on us?”
Alina Bosch glanced at her watch again before turning her attention back to the industrial buildings across the street from the small fourth-floor apartment they’d turned into a tactical operations center for the mission. She and her team were in the Yüreğir district, one of the low-income sections of Adana, where streetlamps were few and far between. That, combined with the cold rain that was coming down in buckets, made it nearly impossible to see what the hell was going on over there.
But she didn’t need to see much in the way of details to know it was time to move on their target. Two vehicles, one an expensive four-door sedan and the other a midsize moving van, had pulled up in front of the buildings ten minutes ago. The van had pulled straight through a roll-up door into a maintenance garage area while two men in dark clothes had left the sedan and run straight for the main door of the building. People making a delivery in the rain wouldn’t be unusual, but it was two o’clock in the morning, which made it damn suspicious.
Alina and the other four agents of her CIA team were in Adana to stop members of al-Nusra Front, a jihadist faction of the growing Syrian rebel movement, from obtaining the necessary chemicals to make sarin nerve gas. Analysts within both the CIA and NSA had good intel suggesting the group was close to a deal with a local supplier in Turkey for the two most critical ingredients to produce sarin—methylphosphonyl difluoride and isopropylamine.
The really scary part was that the rebel group didn’t intend to use the sarin against the Syrian government but instead planned to gas a few thousand innocent civilians—people they were supposedly trying to protect—hoping it would provoke the United States and other western powers into launching a full-scale war against the current Syrian regime.
Alina supposed that if you couldn’t take your enemy out by yourself, then you needed to get someone bigger to do it for you—even if it meant your own people had to pay the price.
As she watched the garage door roll down behind the moving van, Alina got a twitchy feeling in her stomach. The deal was going down right now; she was sure of it. If she and her team didn’t go in soon, they were going to miss their chance completely. If that happened, there was a good chance that a lot of people were going to die.
Unfortunately, moving on their target at exactly that moment was a problem, because her team was presently one person short.
“Jodi,” she whispered softly over her shoulder to the petite, dark-haired woman leaning back against the kitchen counter, cell phone in hand. “Anything on Wade yet? He was supposed to be here thirty minutes ago.”
Jodi Patterson, the youngest and newest member of the team shook her head, her curls bouncing. “I’ve been alternating between calling and texting him for the past twenty minutes. No luck. He’s probably shacked up with some local girl, if he’s not sleeping it off in a ditch somewhere. Then again, it’s always possible he lost his cell phone in a damn poker game.”
Alina cursed. They didn’t have time for this. Next to her, Wade Sullivan was the most senior and experienced field operative on the team. Unfortunately, he was also the least reliable. Worse than that, he was the one guy on the team she flat-out didn’t trust. Crap like this was exactly why.
While the senior leadership back in Langley loved the guy, to Alina, he’d never been more than a problem waiting to happen. The man drank too much, got off on winging his way through every mission, and didn’t give a damn about the job he did or the people he did it with. It was a given that no one on the team trusted him to cover their backs, but their bosses in the States seemed not to care about that, because she and her team always got the job done, in spite of Wade instead of because of him.
Alina left the window and walked over to the kitchen table to gaze at the floor plans of the industrial building spread out there. Looking at a
ll the red marks and arrows drawn here and there, she groaned as she realized the worst part of Wade AWOL’s status. He was the intel lead on this mission. He’d not only come up with the tip that had led them here and had slipped in the previous night to scout out the building and bugged the room where the Syrian rebels and the local supplier were meeting, but he’d also scoped out all the entrances and blind spots. Even though all his intel notes were sketched out, she’d still rather have Wade here to cover everything one more time. Instead, he was off somewhere getting laid—or drunk.
“What do you have on the wire?” she asked Jodi.
Jodi pressed her fingers to the wireless earpiece she wore and closed her eyes. Pressing the earbud didn’t do anything, but Alina supposed it helped her focus on what the people in the room Wade had bugged were saying.
“I have four, maybe five male voices,” Jodi said. “Two are speaking fluent Turkish. The others are using a combination of Turkish and Arabic. They’re mostly making polite conversation right now, but they’ve said the words anlaştik mi several times. That’s Turkish for deal. A few moments ago, one of the Arab men asked how many drums would be involved.”
“We going to do this or what?” Fred Stewart’s gravelly voice rumbled through Alina’s earbud over the encrypted channel. “If they’re already talking about deals and how many drums, there’s no way this meeting is going to last more than another ten or fifteen minutes. If we don’t go soon, we’re going to blow our chance.”
“I know,” Alina told her other teammate. “But Wade is still MIA, and our original plan was based on four of us going in. It’s going to be tough trying to pull this off with just you, me, and Rodney.”
“Not like we have much of a choice,” Rodney Miller said in his Southern drawl. “If they drive out of here with those chemicals, we’re never going to find them again. And when the Syrian people get attacked by some extremists using nerve gas, we’re going to know it was our fault. You ready to let that happen?”