I’d been dismissed. So, tucking the envelope under one arm, I released my hold on the railing and fell into the night.
THE PICKUP COASTED down the gravel driveway, lights out and motor silent. Good thing the barn is at the top of the hill rather than at the bottom, I thought.
I fully expected an irate Gray guard to jump out in front of me at any moment. Or perhaps a shotgun blast would shatter the glass above my head. But, instead, the night remained still and serene and I made it to the highway unscathed.
Pausing at the intersection, I was tempted to flip on the dome light so I could explore the contents of Angelica’s envelope immediately. Bad idea, my inner wolf murmured, the jitters of adrenaline sending images of danger flickering through our shared mind. No, we needed to make good on our escape before anyone knew we’d been present rather than hanging around waiting for a predator to pick off its prey.
So I started the engine at last and turned right, back toward the highway. Only once the old farm truck had chugged up the entrance ramp and was toodling down the midnight-empty four-lane did I take one hand off the steering wheel and rip into the parcel with human fingernails and slightly sharpened teeth.
The scent of well-worn dollar bills mingled with my own aroma and that of Blue-eyes, making me laugh as expensive sheets of paper spilled out across my lap and blew around in the breeze of the console vent. Trust a pack princess to use money in the place of packing peanuts.
But even though the funds were much appreciated, they weren’t of primary importance. Instead, I dug deeper in search of the hard lumps I’d felt from the outside. At last, my fingers brushed across a wallet and a cell phone...my wallet and my cell phone.
I powered up the latter and glanced down at the screen. Fifteen missed messages. Yep, Stormwinder was pissed.
He’d be even more pissed in the near future.
Attention half on the road and half on the device in my hand, I paged through until I found the single message I wanted to listen to. The caller didn’t bother to greet me or to introduce herself by name. Instead, wolf-like, she got straight to the point.
“I hope you haven’t done anything stupid,” Blue-eyes’ voice admonished me. “I also hope that I judged you right and you’re going to make me proud rather than making me wish I’d never met you.”
I half expected her to tack on a “you idiot,” or two. But, instead, the pack princess stuck to business.
“Don’t use the Tribunal credit card until the bitter end,” she warned, and this time I was the one who wanted to roll my eyes and tell her not to teach her grandmother how to suck eggs. “Daddy’s tracking your spending, although he hasn’t shut the card down quite yet.”
Excellent news since I planned to put Stormwinder’s gargantuan credit line to use in the near future. I pulled into the left lane, veering onto the east-bound highway as the one I was traveling along split into paved trails headed in two different directions.
Blue-eyes’ voice lowered, and if she hadn’t been an eighteen-year-old kid, the ensuing huskiness would have made me salivate. “I know you want to make Daddy proud,” she said, her tone promising to illuminate the secrets of the universe. “For the longest time, I wanted that too. But I finally figured out that sometimes you have to choose the greatest good rather than the greatest ally. And I have faith you’re doing just that. So, good job, Hunter. Whether or not Daddy understands, I’m proud of you.”
Kid or not, her words buoyed me up just as much as her father’s had once done. Angelica was smooth, and I had high hopes that she—if no one else—would manage to take hold of the opportunity I was preparing to offer on a silver platter.
I could just imagine Blue-eyes using the step up to burst through the glass ceiling above her head with the force of a steam locomotive. I could hardly wait to witness her ascent.
But I didn’t dwell on the future for long. Instead, I set the phone down on the seat and returned my attention to the drive. I needed to stay alert for the long miles ahead.
To my surprise, though, her husky whisper popped back out of the speaker long after I was certain Angelica was done.
“Oh, and by the way, have you noticed how your wolf is staying in line even though you’re no longer under Daddy’s thumb? Think on that when you’re considering giving in to his every demand.”
Then, with a click, the pack princess’s manipulative little missive was complete.
Chapter 26
The naval base looked smaller and older than I remembered. I’d only been gone for a little over a week, but in the interim I’d become used to the scent of danger hovering around werewolf establishments. I’d become used to the complexities and power plays and potential of shifter-kind.
Walking down the paved, tree-lined streets with nothing but the scent of humans on the air, in fact, now felt more than a little boring.
I was far from bored, though, when I shifted the pizza box into my left hand so I could rap firmly on the door I was used to thinking of as my own. Beyond the wooden barrier, my crew shouted insults at the flat-screen TV while the hopsy aroma of beer mingled with the salt of snacks to prove that sports night was well underway.
I was tempted to double-time it back to my stolen pickup and carry out the rest of my plan in peace. After all, I didn’t really need Stooge’s help to get where I was going. I just wanted it.
But before I could chicken out, the door swung open in front of me and my wingman’s familiar face emerged from the haze of human camaraderie. Abruptly, the conversation behind his back went dead silent as my apartment mate took in my unexpected arrival.
“Looks like somebody’s pi-issed,” Trevor sing-songed from behind our backs. But neither Stooge nor I acknowledged the banter. Instead, our jaws clenched and our eyes locked in perfect mimicry of a shifter dominance battle.
“I brought pizza,” I offered, raising the aromatic box higher until it hovered just beneath Stooge’s flaring nostrils. Come on, man. Don’t make a scene, I begged silently.
“You left me in the lurch,” Stooge answered, not letting me off the hook so easily.
My partner’s arm was still in a cast, but he didn’t look any worse for wear otherwise. Still, I knew what he meant. I’d disappeared out of his life without a forwarding address. I hadn’t explained where I was going and I hadn’t answered any of his calls.
It went against the guy code to cling, but it also went against the guy code to leave your partner blowing in the breeze. I’d thoroughly fucked up.
“I’ve brought you an adventure,” I offered by way of apology. Then, as an afterthought, “Oh, and pizza.”
I half expected Stooge’s cheek to twitch before he pushed me out of his home and out of his life forever. But, instead, his mouth quirked up into a reluctant half smile.
“Leave the pizza for the locusts,” he said, grabbing his wallet from the cluttered table just inside the door. “The adventure, though? I’ll take it.”
I TRACKED THE ALPHA-wannabe back to his lair by nose, which gave me and Stooge plenty of time to hug and make up.
Okay, I lied. We didn’t exactly hug. But Stooge did accept my honest explanation and heartfelt apology. In exchange, my buddy offered up the kindest words anyone had ever sent in my direction.
“You know you can come back to the EOD, right, dude? I won’t spill your secrets to the guys.”
I clapped him on the shoulder before flipping through the letters languishing in the alpha-wannabe’s box. It’s not a federal offense if your target is a slob and doesn’t collect his mail in a timely manner, right?
“You’re the closest thing to a brother I’ve ever known,” I told my companion, the darkness of the night making it easier to relinquish my usual reserve. “But there’s more world out there than can be saved through the U.S. military. It was time for me to move on.”
“Yeah,” Stooge said quietly. He’d handled the whole werewolf thing remarkably well, and now he took our breakup like a man too. “Just remember. You’re still one
of us. You can never really leave the EOD.”
My buddy’s words hung in the still air for a moment, then he plucked the top letter out of my hand and shifted the mood on a dime. “Orville? Seriously? No wonder the dude is such an asshole if he’s been saddled with a name like that his entire life.”
“Invented any airplanes lately, Orville?” I offered in my best impression of a schoolyard bully.
“Why don’t you pop us some corn, Orville?” Stooge flung back.
“So you’re sure you really want to do this?” I asked after a short pause, bringing us back down to planet earth. Yeah, it was entertaining to shoot the shit with my ex-crew mate. But I didn’t want him getting in over his head unless he was 100% game for the mission ahead.
“Are you kidding me?” replied my predictably foolhardy friend. “This is the most fun I’ve had all year.”
Stooge was a clown, but he’d yet to dig himself any deeper into the pit of bad decisions than he could claw his way out of. So I barely suffered a qualm as he led me back to the car where we’d stashed the keg of liquid nitrogen. And I didn’t question his commitment a second time while transferring the frigid substance into a cryogenic flask then strapping that receptacle into an insulated backpack.
We wafted up the stairs of the apartment building like ghosts. Orville had parked his center of operations on the third floor, but he hadn’t bothered to set guards and his lock was easy to pick. In seconds, we were in.
Or, rather, Stooge was in. “Be careful,” I admonished, halting my buddy with one hand on his good shoulder before he could walk directly into the shifter’s lair. Sending an injured human to attack a werewolf—was that actually such a good idea?
“Piece of cake,” Stooge replied breezily. And he was right. Even though I remained in the hallway, watching through a tiny sliver of a crack in the door so Orville wouldn’t smell my presence, my buddy didn’t need a get-out-of-jail-free card. No, between my humming growl, the liquid nitrogen mimicking the freezing effects of a massively powerful uber-alpha, and my wingman’s showmanship, that alpha-wannabe didn’t stand a chance.
“I HEAR YOU’VE BEEN threatening me.”
Orville woke with a jolt to the sight of Stooge’s entirely human nose located mere inches away from his face. “What the...?”
“And my crew mates,” Stooge continued calmly as if the pair were simply holding a civilized conversation down at the neighborhood bar. “You threatened to harm them too. You did harm a human lady just for stepping into your path.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“A one-body,” my wingman said coldly, using the slightly derogatory term I’d taught him only moments before. “Not a shifter. But not a pushover either.”
My partner’s dive knife was at Orville’s throat before the latter could sit upright. Stooge didn’t bother to draw blood, but he did widen his mouth into a grin that would have sent small children screaming for their mommies.
“You’re not going to bother any more humans, are you, Orville?”
I nearly snickered, knowing Stooge was recalling our recent banter while Orville was experiencing the same shock I had at having my identity uncovered so easily. But the alpha-wannabe’s name was also my cue, so I amped up my compulsion until the effect resembled fingernails screeching across a chalkboard.
“Stop!” Orville begged.
“You didn’t answer me,” Stooge countered.
“Yes, yes!” the alpha-wannabe exclaimed. “I won’t harm a single hair on another human’s head. Just leave me the hell alone!”
I held onto the pain-inducing growl for another long moment, then I allowed the vibration in my throat to ease. Immediately, Orville relaxed back into the mattress despite the knife pressed against his skin.
The human weapon alone wouldn’t have fazed our enemy in the least. But when dealing with a human who shouldn’t have been able to affect his wolf but who managed to turn him into a quivering bowlful of jelly anyway, the bully would almost certainly bully no more.
“Have a good night,” Stooge said, offering a crisp salute by way of farewell as he turned toward the door. Then, as he was leaving, I heard rather than saw my friend’s hand close around the item my wingman had entered the room to snag.
Once again, our partnership had been a resounding success. And this time around, my inner wolf hadn’t made a single move toward rending our enemy limb from limb.
So maybe Blue-eyes was right? Maybe I didn’t need Stormwinder to soothe my savage beast after all?
I sure hoped that was the case. Because if Stormwinder wasn’t already mad as hell at my disappearing act, then the next phase of the present operation was bound to push him right over the edge into enraged.
Chapter 27
The other members of our EOD crew had cleared out by the time we made it back to Stooge’s apartment, and I crashed in my old bed without asking permission. It made me a little nostalgic to smell my own familiar scent on the sheets and to know that my apartment mate hadn’t even tried to find a replacement for my unruly self. Closing a door to a previous facet of my life had never been so hard.
Still, when we reconvened in the kitchen the next morning to flick cheerios at each other’s heads, it felt like old times. Only after I’d roundly trounced his ass did I power up the cell phone Stooge had stolen from Orville’s bedside table, figuring this was the place to start if I wanted to hunt down the shifter who’d so successfully delved into my own past a week earlier.
“That’s gotta be the informer,” my buddy said, preventing me from paging further through the alpha-wannabe’s contacts. Orville had snapped a photo to go with each name and number, and the lady in question was hot, hot, hot.
And totally not a werewolf. I wasn’t positive how I could tell with no scent to go on, but the cocky cant to her head suggested that the woman was human through and through and that she was entirely unaware of Orville’s wilder side.
“You just want that to be the informer so you can check her out in person,” I commented dryly, flicking past Cherry’s mug shot and continuing on down the list.
“Well, yeah,” Stooge answered as if I’d just mentioned that the sky was blue rather than yellow. “Wait a minute....”
This time, my buddy’s tone had lost its playful edge. And once I peered more closely at the image in question, I noticed what Stooge had caught in an eyeblink. “Chris” was a nerdy guy, but it was the bank of monitors behind his head that clinched the deal. Yeah, this barely legal teenager would’ve had the chops to track down my history in a single afternoon.
“What’s the game plan?” Stooge asked. But I’d already hit speed dial, holding the phone up to my ear as I tried to ignore the reek of Orville that still clung to its plastic surfaces.
“Hello?” The voice was groggy, as if my call had woken Chris from a nap. Or perhaps, I realized, glancing over at the microwave to discover it was only ten o’clock in the morning, our informant-to-be wasn’t an early riser.
“Chris,” I said, trying to keep any trace of alpha dominance out of my tone. I could feel his inner wolf on the other end of the line, could sense its submissiveness. One wrong move and I’d scare the kid away before I had time to fully reel him in. “I was hoping I could hire you to do a job.”
“A job?” he answered.
“A confidential job,” I clarified. “We can come to you with more information. Where do you live?”
“How about we meet at a coffee shop?” The shifter on the other end of the line was abruptly alert, all sleep fog absent from his voice. I could almost feel the adrenaline coursing through his body, in fact, a clue that he’d taken the phone away from his ear long enough to notice Orville’s number on the caller ID.
Based on my own experiences with the alpha in question, I didn’t blame Chris one bit for his caution.
“Okay,” I agreed readily before rattling off the address of an establishment that should be nearly empty at this time of day. Then, before the kid could chicken out, I finis
hed, “Bring your laptop.”
Hanging up, I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance my recent correspondent would flee rather than obey. But I’d have to hope he was intrigued enough to show because Chris was the best lead I’d come up with to date. And I was bound and determined to construct an elegant solution to my pack-princess problem.
CHRIS APPEARED NO LESS geeky in person, but the wolf beneath his skin gave him a sharp edge that had cleared the surrounding tables by the time we arrived. Still, his inner beast was no match for my own. The kid cringed when he saw me coming, then raised both eyebrows as he took in the non-shifter nature of the man matching me pace for pace.
“You can speak freely in front of Paul,” I said, opting to use Stooge’s civilian handle while off the naval base. Then I dove into a long-winded explanation of the idea I’d come up with over the last few days—channeling Stormwinder’s massive credit line into a finishing school for female werewolves.
Being so up-front about my strategies probably wasn’t the greatest idea of all time. But I trusted my wolf to judge other werewolves’ characters thoroughly and accurately. My wolf reported that Chris’s inner beast was ten times more trustworthy than that of Orville, so my human half felt comfortable confiding in him at will.
Plus, I planned to put certain fail safes into place regardless. So it wouldn’t matter too much if one male drifter knew where Ophelia, Angelica, and Carla ended up.
By the time I was done speaking, Chris had downed both coffee and donut and was already clicking away on his laptop with one hand while navigating through his smart phone’s browser with the other. Smart and ambidextrous—nice combo.
Then he dropped the bomb. “You don’t really have enough cash here to do that properly,” he said without bothering to glance up.
“I don’t?” I queried. The credit line had seemed plenty big enough to me when I dreamed the idea up. After all, I was just planning on buying a building and hiring a couple of female teachers.
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