I threw a right uppercut, slamming my fist into his fatty gut. Air raced from his diaphragm as a groan vibrated across his skinny lips. I kicked down on his left knee with my right heel and felt the pop ricochet up my leg as I dislocated his knee. He went down hard with a howl of pain as his broken kneecap hit the floor. I jumped back but it wasn’t quick enough. Reaching out, he grabbed my wrist.
His hand clamped over my skin like a vise, and I gasped. My bones ground under the pressure of his grip and he yanked me down to the floor with him. Pain shot up my arm and into my shoulder as my muscles stretched against my joints. Collapsing to my knees beside him, I threw a left hook and clipped his jaw with my fist, sending his head reeling back at a sharp angle. He growled, bringing his head back and spit blood out of his mouth, splattering it on the nondescript beige carpet. Balling up his fist for the first time since he’d lunged for me, Barry threw a punch, hitting me like a sledgehammer in the kidney and again in the ribs. My third rib cracked like a twig and bent inward, scraping something inside.
Sonovabitch!
I screamed, a primal howl of anger and pain. That asshole had gotten a shot in and he shouldn’t have. I’d gotten cocky. I jammed my elbow into his nose until I felt the crunch of his cartilage grind against my elbow.
Barry gripped my wrist tighter, grabbing my free hand, probably thinking he could stop my assault if I couldn’t punch him.
I felt the corner of my mouth quirk up in a malicious, psychopathic smile and winked at him, taunting him. He growled low in his throat but backed away from me, not knowing what to do with a tiger he had by the tail. Twisting in his grasp, I grabbed his wrists in my hands, the two of us stuck in a double warrior’s hold. I could tell my eyes shone with a fierce light and I felt my blood race through my veins with the promise of a fight. A real, honest to goodness, fight. I smashed my head into his already broken nose and waited for his cry.
He released my wrists, stumbling a step away but I held firm and hit him again. My forehead smashed into his nose, bloody and softening from my continued blows.
He screamed when I hit him a third time and slumped to the floor, drenched in blood. His hands flew to his face, covering the wounds as the blood gushed over, under, and between his fingers. I kicked his body away, allowing him to huddle in on himself in a fetal position. Rocking back and forth like a child, he shied away from me and his Pack.
I stood, stretching my arms over my head and cracking my neck. Assessing the damage his two good jabs did to my midsection, I coughed and my mouth filled with saliva and the iron taste of blood. I spit it out on the carpet and saw the crimson splatter. SHIT! He punctured my lung. Bastard!
I turned, remembering the nine other werewolves. But Barry and I were alone, Everett the only exception. He cowered behind the stairway railing, watching with wide navy blue eyes.
“Ev? Where’d everybody . . .?” I started to say as I made my way around the couch and caught sight of Khakis and another woman cowering together behind the couch. I glanced around and three sets of eyes peeked out from behind the kitchen breakfast bar. The rest had to have fled either upstairs or somewhere else in the house.
“Is it safe?” UNLV whispered from the top of the stairs.
“I don’t know,” Everett said, shaken. He stared at me in horror, pointing with a trembling finger and said, “Your eyes.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the mirror that had managed to remain on the wall through the fight. My eyes, normally a light storm-cloud gray, stared back at me in bright iridescent silver.
My breath caught in my throat. Afraid to blink, afraid of what’d caused the color change, and afraid to lose it, I stared. My chest rose and fell, panting, pain dwindling as my broken rib and punctured lung knit itself back together in my chest.
She moaned in my mind as if settling down and getting comfortable. She was happy.
I finally closed my eyes and took a deep cleansing breath, calming my racing heart. I quivered as magic rushed over my skin and her soft purr of excitement rumbled through my mind. Opening my eyes, I glanced in the mirror one last time. An unimpressive storm-cloud gray stared back at me. Breathing a sigh of relief, I turned to Everett with an uncertain smile on my face.
“Okay?” he breathed.
“Yeah,” I said, trying to comfort him and myself with the tone of my voice. I’m not sure I accomplished either.
“It’s okay to come out,” Everett said with confidence. He stood, his back straight and shoulders back, striding down the stairs to me. He took my hand in his and brushed his face against my skin, scenting me.
Nope! This wasn’t happening.
I put my hands up in front of me to block the onslaught of werewolves approaching me from all directions.
Barry shook his head, his mind finally clearing of the fog of the fight. His pain subsided as his body healed.
“Ev,” I said, a warning in my voice as he knelt before me. “Don’t.” An unthreatening growl reverberated behind me and I turned to see Barry getting to his feet.
“I am Gaoh!” he barked unsuccessfully, glaring at me as he clutched his nose.
“Trust me, Bar. You’re no Gaoh,” I said with a matching snarl. Why did I say that? I’d just stuck my foot deeper into shit by opening my big mouth. “Look, Barry, I don’t want to be Pack Alpha.” Technically, I was Alpha of the Las Vegas Pack now that I’d kicked their Gaoh’s ass.
“But you are,” Everett said with a hint of disappointment.
“Ev, I don’t belong here. This isn’t my home. Tell the rest of the pack that Barry remains Gaoh.”
He cocked his head to the side, gawking at me as if I’d grown a second head.
“This is the pack,” he said, confusion making his voice unsure.
I glared around at the scared and confused faces that now turned to me for answers. All ten of them were the whole pack? It was no wonder Marabelle had run of the city. This pack was nothing but weak wolves who couldn’t protect themselves, let alone each other.
“Barry remains Gaoh,” I ordered I left no room for argument in my voice.
Everett nodded as did the rest but I could see in his eyes that Everett didn’t like it.
Submissive? Maybe not as much as I thought.
“But Rupert?” Barry cried in a soft plea.
“Look,” I snapped. The adrenaline had started to wear off and the pain of healing finally hit full force. Cringing, I shifted to ease some of the pain. I wasn’t their Gaoh but I sure as hell felt like it. “I’ll find Rupert,” I said, meeting Barry’s eye.
He dropped his eyes. Not a good sign.
Turning to Everett, I said, “I’ll find Soraida, too, but the lot of you need to stay the FUCK out of my way.” They cowered in a circle around me, including Barry. Fuck me running, this was bad!
This Pack was free for the taking and anyone who came to Vegas with a little bit of dominance would use them like cattle.
This isn’t my problem. This isn’t my problem. This isn’t my PROBLEM! GOD DAMN IT!
I stomped my foot. I actually stomped my foot like a little fucking girl. I was so mad I could spit. I was tired, my ribs fucking hurt, and these idiots would be dead within the year if someone didn’t do something.
“YOU,” I snapped at Khakis and watched him turn scared eyes up to me. “Take me home.”
He rose without a word and grabbed his keys with Everett hot on his heels.
“Can I come?” UNLV asked, his voice quivering as if I’d bitten his head off.
“Sure,” I said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Why not?”
Everett sauntered out the door following UNLV as he held the door for me. I breezed by him with a menacing glare on my face and rage bubbling in my gut. My fingers tingled to grab my knife, to draw blood.
“Where are you going?
” I asked.
“My car’s back at Enza’s,” Everett answered.
“Fanfuckingtastic! Let’s make it a party,” I snarled as I rubbed my temples for relief. My head throbbed. When was the last time I’d eaten? I couldn’t remember. I stepped around all the blood on the floor and made my way toward the door.
“But?” Barry said, taking a step to follow. “How will I know?”
I stopped dead in my tracks. I didn’t turn back to him. He wasn’t worth it. He and his Pack would be dead within the year and he wasn’t about to do a thing about it. He could have petitioned another Pack for help or realized he was a pussy and sought out a leader for his people but he didn’t. He sat in his house being fat and lazy, leaving his pack to Marabelle’s mercy. I couldn’t look him in the eye or I’d want to punish him myself. That was definitely a headache I didn’t need and a mess I didn’t want to clean up.
“I’ll leave any information I have with Everett. I don’t want to see you again,” I snarled and strode out the door.
The three werewolves sat patiently in the Jeep Cherokee waiting for me with the air running. Thank you, God. At least one of them had some sense. Jumping into the front seat, I slammed the door.
“I need a payphone guys,” I snapped, clicking the seatbelt into place.
UNLV handed his cell phone up between the seats and I shook him off.
“Sorry, gotta be a payphone.”
He slipped the phone back into his pocket and shrugged his shoulders.
“You really hurt him,” Everett said with a small, almost giddy little smile. He seemed proud of me and a bit in awe as his navy eyes twinkled.
I caught Khakis’ gaze in the rearview mirror. He glanced away quickly, concentrating on the scenery.
“How did you learn to do that?” Khakis asked, almost in a whisper.
I met his eyes again and finally understood. Envy.
“Most Packs aren’t as weak as this one. Most Packs fight for dominance regularly so they learn to fight, they learn to win. I’m afraid in any other Pack all of you would still be submissive but you’d at least know how to protect yourself,” I snapped. The whole situation pissed me off.
“But how did you learn?” UNLV asked as he glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes.
“Practice,” I answered, but he just rolled his eyes. “And,” I added, brushing my jeans with the palms of my hands, smearing away a speck of blood, “years of fighting things that were bigger, stronger, and faster than me.”
I stared out the window, watching the city whiz by as the Cherokee once again fell into silence.
“Hey, there’s one,” I blurted, pointing to an empty convenience store parking lot. The damned payphone was propped against the building between the ice machine and the display of motor oil, hiding.
UNLV pulled in and I hopped out almost before the jeep was completely stopped. The clock on the radio read 7:30 a.m. I’d wasted at least twenty-five minutes, maybe more, on the whole Barry fiasco. It was right around 10:30 a.m. back home. Derek was going to be pissed. Especially if he’d had a late night but it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it.
I dialed the familiar number and waited as the phone rang. I was about to leave a message when a groggy male answered.
“Hullo,” he groaned in a voice that was unusually deep and sounded of heavy REM sleep. He’d been out cold and a smile tugged at the corners of my mouth at causing him just a little of suffering.
“Hiya,” I said in a bright cheery voice, partly to piss him off and partly because my ribs didn’t hurt anymore.
“Dahlia, do you know what time it is?” he asked, and I could hear the anger boiling in his voice.
He’d probably been having a really good dream. Ha, ha!
“Uhhh, about 10:37 a.m.”
“What is it?” he gruffed at me.
I swear, I heard his teeth grinding. “I need a favor.” He was up, no need to taunt him.
“What makes you think I’m in the mood to grant you a favor?” he asked, but I could hear his grunt as he stretched. It was amazing what I could hear when I paid attention.
“Because you love and miss me,” I cooed sweetly.
“True,” he chuckled. “All true. So what’s up, Kiddo?”
I heard his feet pad across his bedroom floor and the clink of a toilet lid. “Are you really going to take a piss when I’m on the phone with you?” I asked, disgusted.
“Yep, you call first thing in the AM and this is what you get.” He laughed.
Touché. I’d have to remember that for next time.
“Annywaay,” I said to get us back on track. “I need some information on a Detective Cordero Salazan.” I waited in the few minutes of silence that followed before I heard the toilet flush.
“Are you in trouble?” he asked point blank. That’s Derek, no beating around the bush.
“Not yet,” I answered.
“I don’t like the sound of that, Kid.”
“Trust me, I like it even less.”
“How deep do you want me to look?” he asked, a hint of trepidation in his voice. If he asked Jade to help, she’d find out in a few keystrokes where I was and then I’d either have to leave again or finally go home.
Home.
It had a nice ring to it. The only thing stopping me was that I wanted to go home on my own. I didn’t want them to force me. I didn’t want them coming after me.
Did it even matter anymore? Enza was in danger, Soraida was probably dead, but I didn’t want to say that anywhere near Everett, and now some random bystander named Rupert was depending on me to save him too. If it wasn’t for Soraida, I was half-tempted to just ditch the Pack to its own devices and be on my merry way. But there was Soraida to consider, and Cordero Salazan was my way in. I didn’t know how yet but I knew he was knee deep in this shit.
“All of it.” I knew that statement was like a GPS signal flashing over my head in big neon letters but I trusted Jade, and I trusted Derek to do the right thing.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“How can I get the information to you?”
I heard him rummaging around, probably for a pen and paper. I gave him the gmail account I’d set up a few months back for emergencies . . . again. I could check it at a FedEx Office and keep Cadenza out of it.
“Hey, Kid, be careful,” he said, and I could hear the fear in his voice.
Ahh, he cared.
“You, too,” I answered and hung up the phone.
Chapter 8
I’d managed to get a few hours’ sleep after convincing Everett to get lost. The man was like shaking a little lost puppy who knew where the food was. He was relentless and worried about Soraida, which didn’t help me clear my head. All I could think about was how to make him more comfortable and wipe that pitiful look from his face. The whole situation was irritating.
I woke up to Enza pounding on the guest bedroom door. She was irritating, too.
Glancing over at the clock on the lily-white nightstand, angry red digital numbers flashed at me, 3:17 p.m. I got up out of bed, drew my hair back into a ponytail and ripped the door open with a scowl on my face. Five hours of sleep wasn’t enough to improve my mood.
Enza jumped back a step at the look on my face but she was mad, too. I could see it in the tight grip of her hand on her hip and the flare of her nostrils as she breathed. I should have cared but I was too tired to give a shit.
“Where the hell have you been?” she snapped, enunciating every word like it was bitter in her mouth.
“I got caught up in some shit and couldn’t call,” I snapped back. It had been a while since I’d had to check in with someone. I sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.
“What does that mean,
and what the hell is going on?” She sounded a little shrewish, her voice escalating out of frustration. “I sat up all night waiting for you. Then, I went to work and worried all day again,” she hissed, her voice unsure and shaky as she spoke.
“Look—” I ran my hand over the back of my neck. “I’m sorry,” I said with a little more understanding. I didn’t want her to worry. Hell, I didn’t want her to care. I couldn’t be responsible for her too. “I don’t want to lie to you so stop with the questions!”
“What’s going on? Are you in trouble?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder like the cops could show up any moment to drag me away. It was comforting to know that she had that much faith in me.
“No. No, I’m not,” I said, unable to restrain a snort of laughter.
“Does this have anything to do with Soraida?” she asked in a more apologetic tone.
“Enza,” I whined. “Please just let it go.”
I stormed past her and down the hall, needing something in my stomach to get my brain working again. I wasn’t awake enough for an interrogation and it was clear I wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon. I strode into the kitchen and started some coffee. Hopefully, that would help. Maybe it would keep me from saying something that I’d regret later. Or worse, have to explain. Subterfuge is not something to be taken on lightly or in a groggy, half-dozed state.
I turned to open the fridge with Enza hot on my heels. I wasn’t getting out of this no matter how hard I tried.
“What was Soraida into?” Enza asked, sliding onto the stool on the other side of the breakfast bar. The worried expression crinkling her tanned brow and shadowing her eyes made her lips press together between her teeth. She’d asked but she didn’t want to know. Not really.
Releasing a reluctant sigh, I said, “Soraida knew some very dangerous people.” I grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and poured some Cheerios, doing everything I could to keep from meeting her gaze.
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