by Jools Louise
“I just got word from an associate,” Ryder cut in suddenly, staring down at his cell phone. “The group’s called Flashpoint, apparently. I need to go get my guy; he’s in trouble. He texted just now and said he has something to tell me. I tried to text back, but nothing. He sent me a Code Six.” Code Six meant that someone needed backup, fast, but to keep it on the down low so as to not alert the wrong people.
“I’ll go with you,” John said. “It may be a trap. If this group’s as good as they appear to be, with all those ex-military types, we can’t be too careful.”
“Let’s take a posse,” Pace advised. “Kaden, can you call your boys?” he asked. “We don’t want anyone thinking this is a police matter or anything to do with Ryder’s unit. Let’s let the bikers rip up the town as a distraction, then slip out of here and get my agent.”
Kaden nodded, smiling despite the serious situation. “My boys just love causing a ruckus,” he said. He grinned when the others laughed, while Pace looked pained.
“Just don’t let them destroy my town,” Pace warned, shaking a warning finger.
Kaden grinned even wider. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” he retorted, and sent out the signal to his crew.
Chapter Two
Cullen ran with a desperation born of complete terror, the baying of hounds not far behind him, closing in. His legs were tired, leaden with the effort he’d made, and he was terrified he wouldn’t make it to the finish line. His ribs were aching and it hurt to breathe, but he ran on, his four legs moving over the ground with grim determination. Cullen knew that if he stopped, if he gave up, he would be dead within minutes. Those hounds were trained to rip their prey apart, and as a fox shifter, he was one of their favorite types of kill.
Sobbing in pain and desperation, he stumbled up the steep ridge, scrambling over rocks and fallen twigs and low-lying shrubs in his path. As he gained the summit, he stared down over the town sprawled out below, almost crying with relief. Sage. He’d made it. He flinched as gunfire sounded behind him and above, raking the ground. The bastards had caught him. He looked up at a drone that flew overhead, equipped with a remote-controlled machine pistol that was rigged to its weapons system. Yelping, he ran on, tripping over an exposed root as a bullet caught his hind leg. He tumbled over and over down the steep, rocky slope, unable to stop himself. He felt the crunch of bones breaking, his tortured body already battered and beaten from a long interrogation. He tucked himself into a ball, trying to minimize the damage, and cried out in pain as he slid to a messy stop right against the furry, spotted, white-and-black forelegs of an enormous feline. A snow leopard of all things.
The leopard snarled softly, and Cullen cringed, thinking he was about to be torn to pieces. Instead, the leopard stared grimly at the sky, chuffing a little before shifting into a dark-haired man, his eyes a startling green. He looked tough and capable and concerned as he viewed Cullen’s broken body at his feet.
“John, we need to get him to the hospital,” a voice said. Cullen, trying to concentrate through the haze of pain, glanced to the side. A tall, equally menacing individual stood there wearing all-black combat fatigues, his dark hair short, his liquid brown eyes the color of chocolate fondant. Cullen sighed in relief. It was Ryder. He was saved.
“Yes, sir,” the snow leopard shifter replied, saluting his friend mockingly. “Just one second longer,” he added, his accent a plummy British one that spoke of an upper-class upbringing.
The seconds passed, and then there was the sound of gunfire again, from the top of the ridge, followed by the yelping of dogs. John grinned wickedly. “I had a plan B,” he drawled, tilting his head. “I have all these friends who used to be SAS and SBS, out of work and just lolling around playing at being sporting heroes.”
“You’ve got ex-Special Forces up there?” Ryder asked, sounding almost resigned.
“Oh, yes,” John replied, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “They’re pretty damned good at stealth tactics. Notice how none of those Flashpoint idiots had a clue they were there.”
“I didn’t know they were there,” the other man said dryly. “What’s next? A visit from the mini critter brigade, just to finish things off?”
John actually blanched. “Never, ever suggest such a thing,” he said in very real horror. “Those little minxes are enough of a handful as it is without giving the little shits any more ideas to cause mayhem.”
Ryder laughed in genuine amusement. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” he replied. “Now, if that’s your fun over with, let’s get Cullen here to somewhere safe.”
Cullen whimpered gratefully, in too much pain to shift at that moment, knowing his injuries were fairly severe but hoping his shifter healing powers would keep him around for a bit longer. He had news to impart. Their operation had a leak. A big one. Someone who had already infiltrated this town, where the hope for the shifter community resided.
Ryder looked down at Cullen. “Is it Ghost?” he asked suddenly, spookily intuitive. “Is Ghost the one who’s been compromising our operation?”
Cullen swallowed hard and cleared his throat, then made the agonizing shift to his human form. “Geoff,” he croaked out, his larynx dry as sandpaper. Then he felt the darkness swallow him up as his pain and exhaustion took him over the edge into unconsciousness.
* * * *
John stared at Ryder grimly, and they shared an unspoken thought. “We need to have another chat with Geoff,” he said.
Ryder nodded, then crouched beside Cullen, giving him a quick assessment. “Call Lex,” he said. “He’ll need some instant triage here before we can get him to the hospital; otherwise, Cullen may not make it. I figure he has internal bleeding and some broken bones, at the very least.”
John nodded and caught the phone that Ryder threw his way as a group of eight men came over the ridge above, corralling a pack of about twenty hound dogs on temporary leashes, with five sullen, dirt-encrusted men in tow.
“John, my dear, please put that disgusting package of yours away now,” one of the men called, a slender, ginger-haired man with bright blue eyes and a tattoo of a Scottish flag on his neck, his accent lilting with the flavors of the same country as the flag. “We really don’t want to ruin our evening meal, if you don’t mind. I’ve taught Mick the delights of making haggis, and I’m eager to sample his creation.”
John chuckled. “Hughie, I’ve never yet known you to miss a meal,” he said, then cupped his groin suggestively. “I’m happily mated, though, so I’ll just put my big and beautiful package away, since it’s apparently too much for you to deal with.”
There was a chorus of laughter and mocking insults, which had Ryder laughing at the raucous teasing as they waited for backup to arrive with transport and Lex, the town’s doctor.
* * * *
Kaden walked up to the bedside of his new mate, Sketch. He’d just been to see Cullen’s arrival and decided to stay at the hospital until the man was out of surgery, which would be some time yet. He palmed his cell phone, texted David and Skull to let them know he’d be late, and why, and then sat wearily in the chair beside the narrow cot.
“Long day?” Sketch asked drowsily, his voice quiet in the stillness of the ward. The other patients were fast asleep, wolf and cheetah and bear and wolverine shifters who had been victims of a dangerous shifter with a grudge.
Kaden smiled at his mate, studying the man’s beautiful dark eyes, thinking he could easily get lost in them. “Busy,” he replied with feeling. “Never a dull moment in this town,” he added, shaking his head ruefully.
Sketch smiled back—or tried to, since his jaw was still wired up after suffering a severe beating a few weeks before. He reached for Kaden’s hand and squeezed it lightly. “Kaden, I wouldn’t want it any other way,” he said, his speech slurred but his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I live for danger.”
He sent a wry look at his broken leg, which was covered in a thick, hard cast. His ribs had been fractured, resulting in a punctured lung, in
addition to a broken jaw and various other injuries sustained from being tortured by a particularly nasty mobster and hyena shifter named Purdy. The shifter had been part of a gang that years ago had murdered Kaden’s stepsister—he’d gotten his just rewards finally, after Skull, another mate, finished him off for good. Sketch was about ready to be rid of the cast, but had remained at the hospital to make sure he was well taken care of. He was the only human in the quad of mates and had taken a while to heal.
Kaden laughed softly. “That’s what I thought,” he replied, grinning. “Danger can be a painful bitch when she catches up with you, though.”
Sketch nodded slowly at that, still smiling. “You got that right.” Then he gave a hoarse chuckle, wincing a little at the effort. “You missed all the fun in town,” he said, and laughed again. “A biker crew came riding into town, doing wheelies and donuts around town, driving the sheriff nuts.”
Kaden bit back a laugh, merely arching one brow curiously. “Well now, I don’t know what that could be about,” he said, maintaining an innocent expression.
Sketch pinned him with his shrewd gaze. “Really?” he asked, his words a little slurred because of the wire cage that kept his jaw stable. “That’s funny, because I distinctly remember Pace mentioning your name, followed by several curse words, with a threat to skewer your balls to a wall at the earliest opportunity.”
Kaden grinned widely at that. “Now, that’s just a little harsh,” he retorted. “And here’s me thinking I was doing so well the last few weeks.”
Sketch’s eyes laughed back at him, his eyebrows waggling up and down. “Kaden, I don’t imagine the sheriff thinks that’s a fitting description. He said that your crew was worse than the mini fuzz butts, and twice as ugly.”
Kaden let out a shocked gasp, clutching his chest in mock horror. “Nah, that can’t be right,” he responded, eyes widening innocently. “I’m sure he was joking.”
There was a deep growl from the doorway leading into the ward, and both men turned to see the sheriff standing there, regarding Kaden with grim promise.
“Kaden, believe me, after those idiots’ shenanigans, you’re lucky I didn’t put you back in jail, as well.”
“Sheriff, I can’t imagine why you’d want to do that, sir. I’m a happily mated man now. I’m all grown up and responsible, no shenanigans, no siree. I’m a business owner, a hair stylist for goodness’ sake.” He shook his head sadly at Pace’s continued perusal and heard Sketch chuckle at his antics.
“Don’t let them loose again,” Pace warned grimly, scowling, then turned and left.
Kaden gazed after the man, shrugging and trying to keep his innocent façade up without ruining the moment by laughing. He glanced casually around the ward and noted that all the patients were awake now and watching the proceedings with interest.
“Sorry, guys, I did try to be quiet,” he said apologetically.
“You failed,” one of the wolf shifters said dryly, but grinned.
Lex wandered in, wearing surgical scrubs, looking tired. “Hey, Kaden. You’re a late visitor,” he said. “I thought you’d already gone home.”
Kaden shrugged and sent his mate a warm glance. “Had to check on this one,” he replied. “Skull’s taking care of David as we speak.” He felt his cock twitch at the thought, since Skull had texted earlier just what the pair had been doing.
“I can’t wait to get into that,” Sketch said with a sexy wink. Kaden gave a low moan, wanting desperately to kiss his mate, frustrated that he was prevented by all the hardware the man wore.
“How long before Sketch is out of the woods?” Kaden asked, meeting his mate’s brown gaze intently.
“If you’re still here tomorrow, you can watch for yourself,” Lex replied with a tired grin. “We’re unwiring his jaw and taking a look at his leg. Then you can take him to your neck of the woods and leave me with the fuzzies over there.” He nodded to his shifter patients, several of whom flipped him off in response.
“It’s not far off dawn,” Kaden said, glancing at his watch. “I may as well catch some z’s here, and wait.”
Sketch smiled at that, squeezing his hand. “I can’t wait for a taste,” he said sleepily, his eyes drifting shut.
Kaden shifted closer, stroking a lock of dark hair from his mate’s brow, and placed a gentle kiss there. Once the ward was quiet again, everyone fast asleep, he rose quietly, then wandered out into the hall to speak to Pace. Their little show earlier had been fun, but there had been a serious element to it. A long talk with Geoff had revealed that they had a mole in town. Someone who was working with Flashpoint, the paramilitary group who hated shifters. Kaden had the feeling that Flashpoint was coercing whoever it was, and he had a couple of ideas about whom it might be. The wolverine clans still had their beef, and there was the added bonus of the rogue killer who had been a part of Cracker’s sister’s death. They’d taken down Purdy, a hyena with a penchant for stolen goods, and the final piece in that puzzle had gone to ground. Kaden had figured that perhaps the last member of the gang may just be hiding in plain sight.
He returned to the ward and sat back down, closing his eyes but keeping alert. If there was a killer in town and Kaden’s intuition was correct, the guy was right here, under his nose. Maybe the killer and the leak were one and the same person. Or perhaps the killer, who’d gone by the name of Slayer back in the day, was out at the ranch. Wherever he turned up, the town’s enforcers were on alert. The sooner he got Sketch out of here, the better. He didn’t think the traitor was at the hospital, but he couldn’t be sure that someone wouldn’t blurt out the wrong thing and alert the guy. So he stayed where he was, on guard, waiting for dawn when his relief would take over and he could take his mate home.
* * * *
Cullen crawled back to the light and heard the distant murmur of voices. John, the British snow leopard shifter, and Ryder, Cullen’s boss and mentor. Then the Scottish accent of the one called Hughie. Another voice, talking medical jargon—the doctor probably. He grew afraid at the sound of one other speaking, someone he’d thought never to hear again, and never wanted to. Ghost.
He heard Ghost protesting vehemently when he was asked to leave, and drifted in and out of consciousness, listening to the man’s protestations that he knew nothing of how Cullen had been attacked, or why, but had been concerned that the gang had hurt someone. Cullen tried to speak, tried to let them know what he knew about Ghost, but his voice box refused to cooperate past the dryness in his throat. He swallowed valiantly and felt a soothing touch of liquid against his lips.
“There you go,” the doctor said gently. “Take it easy. You don’t have to say anything. You’re safe now.”
No! Cullen tried to scream the word, to no avail. The darkness was tugging him under again. They had to know. They had to be warned. Geoff wasn’t the one who had betrayed him; the traitor was still at large, in this room, playing the wounded hero card like nobody’s business.
He opened his eyes and stared right into the pale-blue orbs of his nightmares. Ghost. The man he’d once thought was his mate. A man who had no soul, no compassion, only a blinding hatred for all those who possessed a second spirit. The term two spirit had been coined by the Native Americans to describe somebody who possessed both male and female attributes in some way, or who was attracted to same-sex liaisons. They had once been considered special within their tribes, but with the coming of the settlers to America, that had been tainted by the fanaticism of the early missionaries and preachers, who had been afraid of what they considered sinful behavior. In shifter terms, two spirit referred to both that fluidity toward sexual attraction and the presence of another spirit, an animal totem, within each individual. And Ghost was someone who wanted to destroy all those who possessed it. Cullen had bared his soul, his love, and his sexuality, as well as his shifter side, to the man and had met hatred and disgust. Ghost was a psychopath, making Cullen wonder what fuck-witted fate had decided to pair Cullen up with the heartless bastard. Despite his
obvious physical limitations, Ghost was not someone Cullen ever wanted to be alone with again. He’d slice Cullen’s throat as soon as look at him.
His heart pounded as his fears boiled to the surface, and his last sight as he faded back into the shadows was the glimmer of evil that pervaded Ghost’s handsome face. The face of a soulless killer. A man who was out to destroy an entire community. Cullen had no clue why.
Chapter Three
David kept one eye on his little charges as he checked that they were engaged in the small assignment he’d set them. The rest of his attention was on the distracting presence of a handsome, turquoise-eyed, brown-haired individual who had just wandered in, sat down at the back of the class, and was currently reading a story about someone called Sam. Candy, a four-year-old mini shifter, was listening to the storyteller, otherwise known as Skull, and was sitting comfortably on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder as she sucked her fingers.
Beside her, on the floor, sat Murray, Primrose, Honey, and Blue. Murray and Primrose were the adopted children of John, resident and café owner. Honey and Blue had been taken in by his friend Murphy, the town’s shrink. Everyone else was completing the little spelling bee that David had set, but David couldn’t say he was relaxed at all. With this bunch of munchkins, anything was possible. They had a habit of shifting and escaping, then finding themselves in all kinds of trouble—climbing trees, skinny-dipping in one of the small lakes on the property, or wandering into people’s houses when they were making out with their mates. David blushed as Skull’s gorgeous gaze rose and met his knowingly. The man winked and smirked, all while reading to the group beside him.
Thankfully, David’s attention was snared when one of his other charges put his hand up, needing assistance. He wrenched his gaze away from his tormentor, shoving down thoughts of what had happened that morning when he was getting ready for the school day; he’d been in a sexy clincher with Skull, only to find them being observed by five little shifters who’d come to visit.