by Lynn Hagen
Ross looked puzzled, throwing Rick off. And then his eyes widened. “No, you got me all wrong. I’m not intending to hurt you fellas. I was just curious.”
Rick still didn’t relax. He didn’t know Ross from Adam. The man seemed friendly enough, but the old man’s warning played in his head. Not all are what they appear to be.
“I swear, I ain’t out to harm neither of you. I volunteered to help.”
Maybe Ross volunteered so he could get closer to the monsters. Rick wasn’t sure what to think. He had been stupid letting his guard down. Dorian was all the way upstairs, knocked out cold, and they just might be in danger.
Shit.
“I swear on my mama’s life I mean neither of you any harm.”
“I don’t know you, Ross. I have a man upstairs who I would die to protect. If I find out you are lying, I will slowly peel your skin away from bone.”
Ross swallowed hard. Maybe threatening violence wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but Rick meant what he said.
“Understood. Now eat up. I don’t like to see my cooking go to waste.”
Rick grabbed the fork, but kept an eye on Ross as he finished his food. He wasn’t really hungry anymore, but finished his plate.
“Lucy, Roscoe, and Lane will be here soon.”
“What is this meeting about?” Rick asked. He had heard the woman on the phone, but she had hung up before Rick could ask.
“We want to know your plans. We can’t help if we don’t know what you need from us.”
“I haven’t even thought about it yet. This kind of just happened, and I’ve been so busy trying not to die that I haven’t taken the time to know the next—Wait, do you know anyone who is technologically smart?”
Ross scratched at his beard. “How so?”
“Someone who can get me airtime while making sure no one can lock onto my location.” Rick’s heart dropped when Ross shook his head.
“I don’t know anyone like that. But you can ask the others when they get here.”
“Thanks,” Rick said, trying not to sound disappointed. There were people coming here to talk to him, and Rick hadn’t a clue what to tell them. This was all new to him. He didn’t know the first thing about being in a rebellion. Where did he start? What did he do? All he knew was that the government was trying to start a war between humans and nonhumans, using him to pin three murders, scratch that, four murders on.
Rick was not about to be anyone’s fall guy. He knew he had to make the public aware of what the men in Washington were trying to do, but he didn’t even know anyone who could help him out. While he considered himself pretty intelligent, government and politics were not his strong suit. Sadly, Rick had gotten through social studies in school by the skin of his teeth.
And now people were looking up to him to lead the way. He felt like a fraud. All he wanted was to keep him and Dorian alive. He didn’t want this responsibility. It was too much for him to shoulder.
And he thought keeping a pack together was hard work. That was child’s play compared to what was being asked of him. “Why do humans care if nonhumans are wiped out?” Rick asked.
“Because,” Ross answered, “it starts with nonhumans, and then next thing you know, the government wants to get rid of gay people because bible-thumpers are against them. Then it’ll trickle down to deciding what a woman can do with her body. If they win this battle, there will be no stopping them. I can already see the writing on the wall.”
“You gay, Ross?” Rick asked and then quickly added. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”
“I’m not, but to me, it shouldn’t matter who you love. Just as long as the two of you are happy, what does it matter?”
Okay, he was really starting to like this guy. Rick would have never pegged Ross as so down to earth and open-minded. Shamefully, Rick had seen him as a backwoods hick and nothing more. He felt ashamed for the way he had automatically judged Ross.
“I’m clueless, Ross. I haven’t any ideas on what to do except stay alive.”
“Well, that’s a start.” Ross chuckled. “If it was me, I’d find out who killed those boys and that detective, blow the lid off of their cover-up. If you show people instead of just jaw-jacking, they are more liable to believe you.”
It sounded like a great plan, but Rick had to find out who killed the changelings and the detective first, and even his inside source couldn’t get ahold of the files.
“But right now, Shelton is a hot spot for politics and cops. You need to stay away until they place their focus somewhere else. Getting locked up ain’t gonna help no one.”
“So then where do I go from here?” Again, Rick felt clueless. This world-shattering shit was hard work.
“Well, the next place you could go is to Kansas. There is a large changeling population there. If there is gonna be a war, you need as many fighters as you can muster.”
“I’m going to fuck this up,” Rick said, feeling the weight of the world weighing heavily on his shoulders.
“Only if you want to.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t fuck it up,” Ross answered. “Go with your gut instincts. Nature gave them to you for a reason.”
“I lead a pack of werewolves, yet I can’t seem to think of what to do to save changeling-kind.”
Ross chuckled. “You’re thinking too hard about all of this. If nonhumans are meant to be saved, you’ll find a way.”
Rick prayed Ross was right. He didn’t feel so adamant about it. He was an alpha, a dominating man, a force to be reckoned with, and yet he was clueless on how to save everyone. “People are going to die on both sides.”
Ross nodded grimly. “That they are.”
“I don’t want to do this,” he finally admitted out loud. “I don’t want hundreds of thousands depending on me.”
“I wouldn’t want that either. But if it’s what you have to do, then you stop bellyaching and do it.”
“Prick,” Rick said.
“Just honest,” Ross replied. “You want me to lie to you?”
“Yes.”
Ross chuckled. “No you don’t. I can tell you don’t respect people who lie to you. You like it straight from the hip.”
He did, but Rick wasn’t feeling like much of a leader. He knew he didn’t want Ross to lie to him, but damn it, he really didn’t want this journey of saving lives. It was too much to shoulder. Why couldn’t someone else do this? Why him?
“As long as you care, you can’t go wrong,” Ross said as he clapped Rick on the back. “It’s a big responsibility, but if you don’t fight to save us, who will? Something tells me you are the perfect man for the job.”
He prayed for the strength to see this through.
Rick prayed that he could keep as many people alive as possible.
He also prayed that whatever was going on didn’t lead to war.
But he knew that war was coming.
Rick wished he was as confident as Ross was. In the back of his mind, where no one knew his thoughts, Rick even wished Dorian wasn’t a part of this. The man deserved a happy life, not being stuck by Rick’s side, fighting just to stay alive.
But then again, there wasn’t much Rick could do about that seeing how he had lost control last night and mated Dorian.
“I am highly disappointed,” Captain O’Hanlon said to Freedman as they stood in the room of a shitty-ass hotel that was located in the middle of Nebraska. “Enrique Marcelo should be dead by now. Yet he is still breathing. The president is not going to wait around for you to get your act together. He is going ahead with his plans. If Mr. Marcelo ruins those plans, it will be your ass hanging out to dry for this failure, not mine.”
Freedman ground his teeth as he nodded, his temper threatening to show itself. He really wanted to tell the man to fuck off, but because he wanted to stay alive, he curbed that urge. “Understood, Captain.”
But he didn’t understand.
What Freedman didn’t understand was the whole
damn plan. Exterminating two recently discovered species because people feared them was beyond his understanding.
He had already lost one man in this operation. Watson had been a good guy, an even better soldier, and had a family. And now he was being buried with full honors, O’Hanlon telling his wife that Watson died trying to apprehend a member of the drug cartel.
He was starting to feel like he was a German soldier, and that didn’t sit well with him at all. As far as he knew, this Enrique Marcelo hadn’t done anything wrong. Freedman had checked into the man’s background, and found he was being accused of four murders. It seemed awfully convenient that Marcelo was being pinned for the detective’s murder, considering the man was on the run and Watson was shooting at Rick and Dorian, blowing the back window out, around the time the detective was killed.
This whole operation reeked of something that left a bad taste in Freedman’s mouth.
He disbelieved in the operation so much that he had called Enrique and tipped him off. He was trying his best not to kill the man until he found out what was really going on, and trying his best to look like he was doing his job.
It was Watson who had gotten gung ho and shot out the window in the SUV. Freedman had tried to stop him, but it was too late.
And now the man was dead.
Freedman highly doubted Marcelo killed those nonhuman boys. For fuck’s sake, one of them was his nephew.
“Take care of Enrique Marcelo or be prepared to face the consequences, Lieutenant Commander.”
Freedman saluted the prick and then watched as O’Hanlon walked out of the room. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but his mother hadn’t raised a murderer. He had been on many ops, had killed in the line of duty and for his country, but never in cold blood.
And that’s what this felt like.
Coldblooded murder.
Chapter Twenty
Dorian lay in the whispering silence of the guest room, wondering how long he had been asleep. He moved his shoulder, wincing, but found the pain tolerable. Tossing the covers back, he got out of bed.
He sat on the edge for a moment until he spotted his shoes and then slipped them on, tied them up, and then headed out into the hallway. He could hear voices coming from downstairs.
One of them he recognized, and it shocked him to hear it. There was no way Miguel was here. And Dorian had a feeling that if Miguel was here, so was Benito. That was not comforting in the least. The changeling couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of Dorian. The man needed constant reassurance.
Dorian walked down the steps, determined to find out what was going on. There was no way Miguel and Benito were here. It was hard enough for Rick and Dorian to stay alive. Taking on more would hinder them, especially the young werewolves.
He came up short when he saw more people in the room than he had expected. He recognized Ross, but the other three people he didn’t know.
And then there was Miguel and Benito, as Dorian had suspected. “What are you two doing here?” His tone was a little harsher than he meant it to be, but damn it, Dorian was already healing from a bullet wound. He couldn’t even imagine one of the two juveniles getting shot. Isn’t that what Rick had called them, juveniles? It was a bit strange since they were grown men, but it wasn’t his place to point that out. He wasn’t changeling.
“Calm down, Dorian,” Rick said. “It wasn’t their fault so don’t bite their heads off.”
Dorian tried to calm down. He tried to find his center. But all he could see was Miguel and Benito lying dead after being shot by the Death Squad. He didn’t want their blood on his hands. They were too young and too innocent to be dragged into this. Dorian liked them both—even if Benito was a little too touchy-feely. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if something happened to either man. “They need to go home. They can’t be here. How in the hell are we supposed to protect them when we are having a hard enough time protecting ourselves?”
“I can protect myself!” Miguel defended indignantly. It was the first time Dorian had heard Miguel speak that way. He was caught off guard. “Benito can defend himself just fine. We don’t need you to protect us. Hell, we are the ones who are going to be protecting you.”
Dorian highly doubted that. They were both short, slim, and still looked like they were trying to grow into their bodies. Shit, they were just kids. Their age might proclaim them as adults, but Dorian knew their mindsets. They weren’t strong enough to handle battle.
“You have to go home,” he said more calmly, but with a voice that dared them to argue. Why couldn’t they understand that Dorian was protesting because he didn’t want to see either man hurt?
“They can’t go home,” Rick intervened, which only pissed Dorian off.
“Why not? Send them home on a bus. However they got here, they can turn around and get back.”
Miguel glared at him. Benito just glanced at the floor. Kids. That was all they were.
Rick stood, his eyes darkening to the beautiful grey with yellow flecks. His wolf was close. Dorian could tell. Shit.
“They are here because Miguel’s parents were killed getting your parents to safety. They are here because while Olivia and Graham have taken on the duty of caring for not only Ian, but your parents, they couldn’t take Miguel and Benito. It wasn’t safe to have that many people in the house. They are here because Nate called me while you were knocked out and asked if they could stay with us and I said yes. They drove straight through the night to get here. I am not sending them back.”
Dorian felt like the world’s biggest heel. He glanced at the window and saw that it was dark out. “How long have I been out?”
“Almost twenty-four hours,” Rick replied, but Dorian could hear the anger in the man’s inflection. Rick was pissed. And rightly so.
“I’m so sorry, Miguel.” Dorian didn’t know what else to say. The man had lost so much in one night, and Dorian had torn into him. “I’m just worried that you will be killed, both of you.”
The sting was still in Miguel’s voice when he spoke. “I am very capable of taking care of myself,” he reminded Dorian once more. “Thank you for your concern, but it is not needed.”
Damn, talk about a slap to the face.
“Well, as interesting as this is,” the only woman in the room said, “I think I’m going to head home. I’ll be back tomorrow morning to see you fellas off.”
“Thanks, Lucy,” Rick said as he walked her to the door. “Thanks for everything.”
What had he missed? Dorian crossed the room and hugged Miguel. The man was stiff in his arms. “I’m so damn sorry.” He wasn’t sure what else to add. How did he comfort a man who had just lost his family? Dorian wanted to hunt down whoever killed Miguel’s parents and torture them until they died a long and painful death. It wasn’t right. Miguel was a very sweet man. He didn’t deserve to lose his mother and father to such brutality.
Miguel finally relaxed. “Thank you.”
Next thing Dorian knew, Benito was behind him, hugging him. He didn’t protest, this time. They both needed reassurance and comfort, and Dorian would give that to them. He wasn’t the touchy-feely type, but for now, he would be. He would be whatever Miguel and Benito needed him to be right now.
“Benito,” Rick warned. Dorian glanced behind him to see the cousin sniffing at Dorian, his eyes turning wolf.
“He’s wounded.”
“I’ll beat the brakes off of you if you touch him.” Rick snarled the words.
Benito stepped back, his eyes still wolf. Dorian turned to see Miguel still standing in front of him, but his eyes hadn’t changed. Maybe the guy had a lot more control than Dorian had given him credit for.
“Oh, I want,” Miguel said as his eyelids slid down to a look that was pure predator. “But I’m not foolish enough to go after that alpha’s mate.”
Dorian spun around, glaring at Rick. “You mated me!” He had thought Rick’s parting words had been a dream after he took the pain pill, but from the pinched expression,
he knew that it was true.
“I lost control,” Rick confessed.
“And that excuses it?” Dorian growled.
“Gotta go,” Ross said as he jumped to his feet. “Come on, Roscoe, Lane. This is private business.” The three men left, leaving Dorian in a room full of changelings.
“Am I going to turn furry now?” he asked, not even bothering to keep the anger from reaching a low pitch. He had every right to be mad. Rick had basically married them and Dorian had no say in it. He wanted to punch the guy.
“No,” Rick answered as if offended. “That’s an altogether different act, one I didn’t perform on you.”
Dorian walked away, because if he didn’t, he was going to attack the asshole. Standing in the kitchen, Dorian searched for food. He wasn’t really hungry, but knew he couldn’t keep taking the antibiotics on an empty stomach. It always made him nauseous when he did. Besides, he needed the alone time to calm down before he said something he would later regret.
“Is it so bad being mated to him?” Miguel asked as he walked into the kitchen.
Honestly, it wasn’t. “I like having choices, Miguel. I want to pick who I’m attached to for the rest of my life. Rick didn’t give me that choice.”
“But you didn’t answer my question.”
The little bugger was persistent. “What if I told you that you had to mate with Nate?”
Miguel shrugged. “He is not a bad choice. Nate is strong.”
“You know what I mean.”
Miguel shook his head. “No, I do not. I’m changeling. It is an honor to mate with someone strong, someone fierce. Any werewolf I know would gladly take your place.” The words were bitter, as if Dorian were slapping Miguel in the face for mocking his decision to nominate Dorian.
“In my world, it’s called a shotgun wedding.” He wasn’t going to cave. Miguel may think it an honor, but Dorian wasn’t changeling.
“Fine, but the decision is already made. All you can do now is deal with it.” Miguel turned to leave, but looked back. “I thought you worthy to be mated to my alpha. I’m not so sure anymore.”