Boarlander Silverback (Boarlander Bears Book 3)

by Joyce, T. S.

  “And again, no proof,” Kirk said. His voice had cooled. “I don’t recall any IESA agents storming these mountains. Don’t remember them trying to wipe out every shifter here. Don’t remember them coming after innocent men, women, and children. Don’t remember them raising some of the people here in a testing facility, torturing kids, running experiments, scarring the survivors. That’s all rumors and hearsay.” Kirk’s voice had gone hollow, as if he didn’t care if Finn believed him or not. “If you want to back the attempted massacre of an entire species, probably do that somewhere else so you don’t get your heart plucked from your chest here.”

  With every word Kirk had spoken, Alison had grown sicker and sicker. Testing facilities? That hadn’t even been mentioned in Cora Keller’s attack on the agency. The shifters here had gone through so much more than she, or likely anyone else, realized. And yet here they were, accepting her as Kirk’s claim, even though she was human.

  Finn was so wrong in his assumption that the shifters were the bad guys.

  “My mate is bringing home barbecue later, and we’re gonna have some beer and throw some horseshoes if you want to stay and join us,” Harrison gritted out. “Since you are working right alongside of us, it might benefit you to get to know us, like Ally is doing.”

  “You mean Officer Holman,” Finn ground out, his eyes narrowed on the alpha.

  “No, I mean Ally. She’s a friend here and plenty welcome to spend time in Damon’s mountains to do her job because she made the effort to get to know us and secure that open invite. You still don’t have Damon’s permission to be on his land unescorted, so if you want the same privileges Ally has, you should make more of an effort to get us to trust you. Sitting up in your little cabin glaring at us as we drive by isn’t gonna do you any favors.”

  Finn had donned his uniform to come up here, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he inhaled deeply, eyes on her. “Look, Holman, I’m your partner. You know what it’s like to lose a partner, don’t you?”

  Alison closed her eyes against the pain of the memory of Riggs gasping for air on the floor. “Yeah.” Her voice cracked on the word.

  “Well, you’re my partner, and I’ve called you ten damned times.”

  “My phone is sitting in the front seat of the truck.”

  “Great, but can you see why I was worried? Last I saw, you were fishtailing out of our post, headed for these mountains, and you didn’t call me for backup, but you also didn’t pick up the phone to let me know you were all right.”

  And now she felt like shit. “I’m really sorry. It didn’t work like that undercover. It was every man for himself, and I didn’t think about your side of it.”

  “Well, next time call me and let me know what you’re doing so I don’t just sit down there thinking you’re up here bleeding out or something.” He cast a quick narrow-eyed glance to Harrison. “And no, I don’t want a beer.”

  Harrison pursed his lips and nodded. “Then you’ll have to get out of my territory.” With a quick flick of his fingers, he gestured Finn back toward the trailer park.

  Kirk gripped Alison’s waist and gave her a quick kiss on the side of the head as they followed the others through the woods. Finn narrowed his eyes at them but was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Partner or not, he had no say in who she dated.

  “You look ridiculous and completely unprofessional,” he grumbled as she stepped into line with him.

  “We went swimming at the falls,” Kirk said in a deep, rough tone. “It ain’t like she’s naked.”

  Finn offered him a dirty look, then sighed and arced his attention to Alison. “Look, I get the draw. It’s lonely as fuck up here. Why do you think I’m always down in Saratoga? But you aren’t even wearing your damned badge.”

  “Finn, I’m not cut from the same cloth as you. You worked in a precinct with rules, dress codes, and organization. That was never my work environment. If I wore a badge, it would’ve gotten me shot, and my dress code was street clothes because a uniform would—”

  “Get you shot. Yeah, I get it. I’ve worked around undercover cops, you know? They would come into our precinct every once in a while, dressed down, inconspicuous, but you could always tell by their eyes they weren’t just someone there to report a crime. They all had that haunted, hard look. I made you as an undercover cop the second I saw you at the airport.”

  “You did not.”

  “I swear I did. Also when I tried to look you up in the system, I could barely find anything on you. I had to ask around Chicago to get the scoop on you.”

  “Had to,” she muttered sarcastically.

  “This wasn’t my choice either, you know? I was used to being on the streets, and then I came to play shifter babysitter up in the wilderness with a partner I knew nothing about.” Finn shook his head.

  “What did you learn about her?” Kirk asked.

  “Ha!” Finn gave him a pointed look. “I see those fuckin’ lovey dovey looks you’re giving her, but don’t be fooled. She’s a pit viper.”

  “And yet somehow that makes her more attractive to me,” Kirk murmured.

  Finn snorted. “Shifters. You know what they used to call her?”

  “Finn, shut up.” Alison didn’t know why he was so damned talkative all the sudden. He’d come in here pissed off, and now he was a Chatty-Cathy. She was seriously stifling the urge to punch him in the mouth-hole right now.

  “What did they call her?” Clinton asked from behind them.

  “Ghost.”

  Mother fucker, whoever he’d tracked down to dish dirt on her was going to get an earful from her.

  “Why Ghost?” Mason asked from where he leaned on the corner of a trailer as they came out of the tree line.

  “Because she was quiet. They say she could blend in anywhere, melt through walls.”

  “I thought you just worked in that drug house,” Kirk said, confusion in his voice.

  “In Chicago?” Finn asked, tossing her a wicked glare. “Nah. She worked for years undercover before that, changing her hair, changing her name, living where they told her to with no complaints. She thrived. A real chameleon. She made a dent in drug trafficking wherever they assigned her. Cartels, drug lords, dealers…no one even know what hit ’em.” Finn crossed his arms as they came to a stop on the edge of the evening shadows stretching from the trees. “I almost didn’t believe my sources because you don’t make any sense. Too soft spoken. Not the right personality for a cop. No bravado, and for the life of me, I haven’t been able to wrench out a single war story from you.”

  “Finn, please stop,” she murmured, feeling naked and exposed.

  “But now it makes perfect sense. You’re unassuming. No one would ever guess you’re the Ghost. Quiet, observant, taking notes and names, calculating, always calculating.” Finn’s smile had turned to a grimace. “And then you had your break.”

  “Enough,” Kirk said.

  “What break?” Clinton asked.

  “A psychotic episode, they called it. The Ghost killed a suspect, and with her bare hands.”

  “Because he murdered another undercover agent right in front of me.” And because he was going to violate her, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone that part except Kirk.

  Finn’s eyes were full of hate now. “She strangled him. She needed him to keep her cover and blow that entire operation right off the map, but she listened to his last, gasping, dying breaths as she choked the life out of—”

  “I said enough!” Kirk barked out. He jerked his chin toward Finn’s cruiser. “Get the fuck out.”

  Finn cocked his head and glared at Kirk. “I miss the smog of the city. The noise. The people. The overcrowded sidewalks. It’s too quiet out here, but a woman like Alison Holman can adapt to any environment to get what she wants.” Finn turned and strode off for his cruiser. “Good luck figuring out her intentions, Shifter,” he called. “No one can really know a ghost.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Alison clenched he
r shaking hands at her side as Finn drove away. She was so angry she couldn’t see straight, couldn’t keep her breathing steady. She hated him for what he’d done. She’d been bonding with the shifters here, and now they would never trust her. Never accept her. She would be an outsider, just like the rest of her life.

  Ghost. There was a fucking reason she didn’t share her nickname.

  She was tired of being invisible.

  And now Harrison, Clinton, and Mason were looking at her with suspicion, and across the road, Bash and Emerson were scanning the others’ faces, confusion pooling in their expressions.

  Tears stung her eyes, and flames of embarrassment licked at her cheeks and ears. “I don’t have ulterior motives for being here,” she rasped out as she stared at the ground. “I just like being around Kirk. I like being around all of you. I feel normal here.” A tear streamed down her cheek and angrily, she dashed it away. “I was the Ghost because it was my job. I’m not undercover anymore.” She drew in a deep, shaking breath. “I’m not anything.”

  Kirk hugged her tight against his side. “You feel like a lot to me.”

  “You’re partner is an asshole,” Bash called across the street. “I do not like him.”

  “I could kill him for you,” Clinton said, a little too hopeful for comfort.

  Kirk scrubbed his hands down his face and muttered, “Clinton, he might be an asshole, but it’s still not polite to kill people.”

  Clinton stomped off, shoving his way roughly between Alison and Kirk. “I was just trying to help.”

  “Murder isn’t helpful,” Mason called.

  Harrison blinked slowly, and his shoulders sagged like he hadn’t slept in a year. “Alison, if you betray us in any way, there will be hell to pay.”

  “Hey, Harrison, you’re a poet and you didn’t even know it,” Bash said as he approached. “Ally girl, you don’t look like no ghost to me.” Bash walked around her and poked her arm hard enough that it would probably leave a purple bruise in the morning. “You ain’t even see-through.”

  “Just to be transparent,” Kirk told Harrison. “Ally already told me about killing that drug dealer. It was self-defense.”

  “But she didn’t tell you the other stuff,” Harrison said, hands on his hips, head cocked, eyes dead. “I could tell by the look on your face.”

  “Those are my stories to tell,” Ally said. “Eventually, I want to tell him everything, but no, Kirk doesn’t know every detail about my life yet, like I don’t know about every second of his. The nickname? It wasn’t one I came up with, and I didn’t like it. I want you all to call me Ally and look at me like I’m just another person. I’m trying my damndest to leave my past behind me. Kirk is my future. He’s who I want to share stuff with, but before I came here, there was no one I trusted. I don’t know who Finn talked to about my work, but that shit is classified. I was part of several operations that were covert and never discussed. He was out of line airing that information, but worse than that, he made you all look at me differently—like you’d never seen me before.” She gestured toward the trail in the woods behind them. “The girl you saw at the falls. The one laughing and relaxing? That’s the Ally I want to be. Not some stupid dead personality assigned to me because of the job I used to do. I want to feel”—she shrugged her shoulders up to her ears helplessly—“real.”

  A slow, proud grin washed over Kirk’s face, and he murmured, “Truth.”

  And when she looked back at Harrison, he was smiling now, too. “Works for me. Come on Ghost Girl. Let’s get drunk.”

  “Wait,” she said stunned as the others walked away. “You’re not going to rake me over the coals?”

  “Nah,” Mason said. “We can hear a lie. Finn didn’t tell one, but neither did you.”

  She arced her shocked gaze to Kirk, but the smile had faded from his lips. His eyes were glued to her shoulder. “You’re still bleeding,” he murmured in a strange voice.

  Sure enough, her puncture wounds were staining the T-shirt, which made perfect sense because it still hurt like hell. “Well, yeah. You bit me, Kirk. And then you jumped off a cliff with me.”

  His chest heaved as he lifted bright gold eyes to hers. “I didn’t realize humans were so fragile.”

  She frowned over her shoulder at the dark spots on the baggy shirt. “Well, I’m not dying.”

  Kirk shook his head and pulled her hand toward the biggest singlewide at the end of the trailer park. “I’m not taking care of you like I should.”

  “That’s debatable.” She lowered her voice and lightened her tone. “You did give me one awesomely explosive orgasm under the falls.”

  Kirk didn’t seem amused, though. In fact, he didn’t respond at all until they were up the porch stairs of a trailer with the lopsided numbers 1010 hanging beside the red door. “Why aren’t you taking me to your trailer?”

  “Because the walls are open, woman. It’s a cesspool of mold spores, and I never gave a single thought to infection until just now. I took you swimming in a murky river with open wounds. I’m a fucking idiot.”

  “Not true at all, and you didn’t bite me that deeply.”

  A long, low growl rattled Kirk’s chest. “Stop lettin’ me off the hook. Bash is convinced this place is magic.”

  “The trailer?”

  “Yeah. Ten-ten has been to every trailer park in Damon’s mountains. It has been home to almost every single mate at one point, and they all swear the same, so call me superstitious, but it feels like a smart fuckin’ idea to suck up some good vibes from this place.” He pulled her inside and turned on her, then stood back a few paces.

  She arched her eyebrows as he stared at her. “What am I supposed to do now?”

  “Do you feel anything different? Do your wounds feel better?”

  “Okay, you’re being insane. Do you have a first aid kit in here? Oh, my God, there’s a mouse!” She pointed to the rodent scampering across the floor. Nope, nope, hell nope, she didn’t do mice. Alison bolted for the door, but Kirk was to her in a flash.

  “It’s Nards. Shhh. It’s just Nards. He’s a pet.”

  Was that her whimpering? Alison climbed up on the couch. “Why would you have a field mouse as a pet?”

  “Well, because he’s nice and gentle and…polite.” Kirk frowned. “I thought it was weird at first, too, but now I have one of his babies in my trailer.”

  “On purpose?” Okay, she was screaming now.

  “Yes. Her name is Teats, and she lets me hold her.” Kirk cleared his throat and muttered, “She eats seeds from my hand.”

  “I had rats in all of my apartments in Chicago, and they were not nice. Not nice at all.”

  “Okay, well look.” Kirk pulled a bag of jalapeño-flavored potato chips off the kitchen counter, knelt down, and handed one to Nards. And sure enough, the little mouse took it politely, then scurried off through the kitchen.

  A shiver trembled up her spine, but she stepped gingerly off the couch and tried to regain her composure. Kirk stood slowly, and he looked like he was hiding a smile.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” Kirk cleared his throat and now his grin was stretching wider. “It’s just you’re this tough, badass, tatted-up undercover cop, and you’re afraid of a pet mouse.”

  She smoothed her shirt farther down her knees and looked primly up at him. “Nards just surprised me is all.”

  “Nipples lives here, too.”

  “There are two of them?” Kirk hunched at the volume of her voice, so she lowered it to a less psychotic pitch and said, “That’s just lovely.”

  “First aid kit is this way.” He sauntered off through the kitchen.

  “The way the mouse went?”

  “Yep.”

  An open doorway swallowed him up, and now she was left in the middle of the living room alone, shifting her weight from side to side on the squishy laminate flooring and studying the small home. White walls, a sagging white ceiling with more than one leak stain, white kitchen cabinet
s, and green couches. There was an expensive looking television resting in the entertainment center, though, and the kitchen table looked high quality and handmade. Even the two dark wood ladder-back chairs beside the table looked fancy. She’d lived in way worse. As she ran her hands along the polished wooden countertops of the kitchen, she did get a strange chill up her spine, and this one wasn’t from fear. It was from…she didn’t know.

  “You coming?” Kirk called from Mouseland.

  Alison blew out a long, steadying breath and braved the bedroom, which, as it turned out, was huge and took up a third of the trailer. “Wow,” she murmured. A thick cream and blue floral comforter was folded down invitingly on the bed, and flanked on either side was a pair of windows and old-fashioned hanging lights. There was a built-in dresser and two closet doors, and on the opposite wall was a bathroom. Kirk stood inside, ripping open a package of first aid supplies and muttering something too low for her to hear.

  No Nards in sight, she leaned against the doorframe. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, just worried. And my gorilla is ripping at my insides.” He cast her a quick glance. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “I’m rough, Ally. I mean, it’s in my nature to be rough, and I didn’t give two thoughts about how you would be affected by that.” He laid out the supplies on the counter and lifted the hem of her shirt over her head, then peeled her damp tank top off as well. “Female gorilla shifters like being roughed up, with affection and in the bedroom, and silverbacks don’t worry about them healing. I’m freaking out a little. I think I’m going to be shitty at this.”

  “It’s okay, Kirk. You were raised around people like you. And then you were part of Kong’s family group.”

  “But…” He waved his hand at her puncture marks. At least they weren’t bleeding anymore, but they did look angry and red. Kirk’s head almost reached the ceiling in here, and his wide shoulders blocked an entire half of the wall from view. “I guess I didn’t really give much thought to a human mate because I always assumed you would be different.”