Rookie in the Midst [Blue Platoon 1]

by Jools Louise

  “I did some checking,” Blaze said quietly, looking concerned. “My sources tell me that several deserters and ex-squaddies have gone missing. Some have been connected to the disappearance of a bunch of people who we suspect are wolf shifters. The timelines are correct, and using GPS tracking, I’ve plotted their activities…that we know about.”

  “They aren’t government sanctioned,” Amos said as he joined them, barefoot and clad in a pair of black boxers. “At least nothing that’s on the books. If the facility exists, it’s one the government doesn’t want anyone to know about.”

  “Why did Carter call me El Corazon?” Craig asked suddenly. “Is that truly what I am?”

  “C’mere,” Amos commanded, opening his arms wide.

  Craig stepped into them, inhaling his alpha’s scent and feeling soothed by the man’s strength. He felt a little tense all of a sudden, feeling as though he was on the edge of some mammoth discovery. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

  “Nothing about shifters is written down, for good reason,” Amos said. “But as in Native American custom, the stories are passed down through the generations. No shifter is created by biting another. We are born shifters. Your parents would have both been shifters.”

  Craig nodded. He knew that much, at least.

  “Centuries ago, when pureblood wolves roamed in these parts, we could hide in plain sight. Now, we cannot be found out. It would be catastrophic for our people,” Finch piped up.

  “So some of the stories have proven to be true, some have become a little…stretched,” Amos continued, smiling slightly. “El Corazon is one of those stories that hasn’t been proven yet. A lot of tales were told to stop us little ones from revealing ourselves, fairytales that began as warnings, then were watered down somewhat and read to children to help them sleep.”

  “Supposedly, El Corazon is a super-wolf shifter,” Blaze said. “With special powers and much bigger and more powerful than regular shifters.” He shot Craig a dry look. “Guess that theory is proven, eh, Amos?”

  Amos snorted and laughed. “Yeah, that’s true. You are one big-ass wolf, Craig Mason.”

  Craig grinned and blushed. “I felt so angry that we were being attacked for something so stupid,” he said. “We just want to be together. I’ve just survived being beaten up by Costa and found myself a sexy pack of shifters who love fucking night and day. And those morons are attacking us because they don’t like our lifestyle? Please!”

  They all laughed at his sassy comments and surrounded him, peppering kisses all over his face until he sniggered helplessly. “Hmmm, we do love fucking,” Amos drawled, nuzzling Craig’s neck with his whiskery jaw.

  Craig shrieked, giggling helplessly as they found his weak spots. “Stop it! Perverts.”

  “Really?” Blaze said, laughing, as well. “Perverts, is it?”

  “He’s not wrong,” Finch chuckled. “You with that hot rod, me with my stealth tactics, and you two…” He looked at Amos, and Garnet, who wandered into the kitchen yawning widely. “Not sure about you two, really.”

  Amos grabbed Finch and hauled him over his shoulder, smacking his ass repeatedly until Finch was roaring with laughter. “Not sure? How about this? Me alpha—you fuck bunny.”

  “Hey!” Finch protested breathlessly as he was released abruptly, sprawling on the floor, still chortling. “Fuck bunny?”

  “You fuck bunny—me sex muffin.” Craig grinned, flipping the man off.

  “You El Corazon,” Blaze corrected, shooting him a steady look.

  “I’m still not sure I know what that means?” Craig asked.

  “It means that there’s going to be a lot of interest from our community,” Amos told him. “If Ruin and his fuckwits go blabbing about what they saw, it could mean even more trouble.”

  “Why trouble?”

  “Because, Craig, our kind are more like a feudal society of old than a modern and civilized minority, already living in fear,” Garnet said, grabbing a piece of celery to chew on. “Each pack is so intent on keeping their little bit of territory that they forget about the bigger picture and supporting one another.”

  “Survival,” Craig replied, nodding.

  “Yeah, survival,” Amos said, stroking Craig’s tousled hair.

  Garnet began to set the table in the adjoining room, clad in a dark red robe, his dark hair mussed from sleep. “From what my parents told me, because El Corazon is the true heart of the packs, the one to unite us all, it unnerves the other packs because they see El Corazon as a threat. Once they know you’re real, we won’t just have to worry about Ruin. The so-called leading packs will not want to have their power weakened.”

  “Why are shifters close to extinction?” Craig wanted to know, feeling sad.

  “We haven’t been producing offspring,” Finch answered. “The center or heart of the pack is the one who provides the shifter DNA. Not all packs or matings are among four, like us. Some are more traditional, like with your parents, one-on-one. But each partnering has to be a true mating for offspring to be produced. A lot of packs go for political alliances rather than a love-match.” He frowned.

  “That’s terrible,” Craig said, disturbed by the idea, but not really surprised.

  Craig felt sad that people chose materialism and power over a loving family unit. He’d dreamed of a love like his parent had shared. He’d been only five years old when they’d died, but he remembered clearly their love for one another. He’d spent years in foster care, in a group home that had been pretty brutal for a youngster recently orphaned. Added to that were the horrors of being in state-run schools, among the idiots and plebs who controlled such places. Those places had been like miniature dictatorships. He was lucky he’d had his parents for five years, because he’d never given up on finding a true love. He hadn’t been interested in just anyone. Even when he’d come out, he hadn’t slept around, wanting to make love to someone he cared for, not have a quick, meaningless fuck in some back room. One or two encounters like that had made him yearn for more.

  “Exactly,” Amos said. “El Corazon will bring the heart and soul back into our packs…somehow. So our new role is protecting you at all costs. There’s a reason you found us.”

  Craig turned from his lovers, deep in thought. “I need a moment, if you don’t mind,” he said softly, feeling a little nauseous all of a sudden. “This is a lot to take in.”

  “Take all the time you need, darling,” Garnet said, kissing him gently.

  They all watched, concerned, as Craig left the kitchen and headed upstairs again.

  * * * *

  “You do think he’s El Corazon then,” Finch said, staring at Amos shrewdly.

  “Yeah.” Amos met his lover’s green gaze, feeling a deep sense of foreboding. “And I also think that we just lifted the lid on one giant nest of hornets.”

  “Then we need a plan,” Finch retorted, leaning against the counter, arms folded, looking tough and capable. “The box is open, so now we have to deal with what comes next.”

  “Difficult to plan when we have no idea what might be heading our way,” Blaze commented.

  “We know one thing,” Garnet drawled, finishing preparing the salad and placing it on the table. “Ruin will be leading the fucking charge.”

  Chapter Seven

  “I gave you one fucking thing to do,” Maureen Ruin screamed, lashing out at her youngest son with a thick cane, one end adorned with brass, striking him brutally on the shoulder and back as he cringed on the floor at her feet. “All you had to do was take out those four Hartland shifters, and we’d be home free.”

  She kept raining down blows, beside herself with rage. He felt the power of her anger, as she smashed him in the head, over and over. Carter sobbed, terrified as she went berserk, out of control as he’d never seen her before. She was going to kill him, he was sure of it.

  “What happened?” Arnie Ruin asked, glaring at Carter, not even trying to stop his mate. What a putz. “How hard can it be to stop them getting to thei
r home? You had one job.”

  Carter refrained from the sarcastic remark on the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t his job—it was his alpha’s to challenge another’s authority. He silently questioned how his parents had both failed in ten years of trying.

  “They’re SAS, Dad,” he said, crying out as his mother kicked him in the ribs with unerring accuracy. He felt another bone crack and felt his vision fading, blood obscuring his eyes as drops dripped down from several wounds to his face. “They’re trained to deal with worse than us.” He was hurt badly. He prayed he’d survive the experience. He needed to leave this terrible place.

  “Insolence!” Maureen snarled, shifting and attacking.

  He lost consciousness when he felts her claws raking him, and her fangs tearing into his flesh, vaguely aware of her being pulled off him. He had no clue who would defy her like that.

  * * * *

  “Come on, Carter, we have to leave,” a voice hissed, breaking through the pain barrier. “If you stay here, you’ll be dead by morning. I know you’re hurting, but at least you’re alive. When we find a safe haven, you can take time to heal properly.”

  Carter opened one eye halfway, the other fused shut, and stared at the young shifter Elvis McKenzie, whose parents were Arnie’s best friends. They were as bad as Carter’s parents, cold and heartless, with no care for their offspring at all. Money and power and social status floated their boats, and Elvis had been suffering ever since he’d shunned all that and begun showing his true colors. He was gay, as was Carter, a big no-no as far as the Ruin clan were concerned. Sheila and Hamish McKenzie worshipped their older son, Douglas, but treated Elvis like a slave. He and Elvis had been best friends since they’d been toddling.

  “You were beaten again?” Carter hissed through bruised lips.

  “Bull’s-eye,” Elvis retorted, fingering his black eye and the jagged wound on his cheek. “Douglas ratted me out and told them I was at that club again. Fucking twat! He’s always been a grass. This was the last straw. Glad I chose tonight to leave, though, or you’d probably be dead. I heard the last of that fight with your mother. She was in a killing rage.” He shuddered dramatically. “Glad Connor pulled her off. I hate him, but he stopped her. Said she would lose face if people found out she’d killed you for something her and Arnie should have taken care of.” He smiled slightly. “Didn’t know he had it in him. I don’t want to be part of this fucking pack anymore, and I doubt you’d survive yours much longer.”

  “Where will we go?” Carter asked, his voice slurred with pain, his vision fading in and out.

  “Anywhere but here,” Elvis shot back bitterly. “Now are you coming or not? I got us a Land Rover.”

  Carter tried to focus and then dragged himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he stared around. They were outside, about half a mile from the main house. Huh! House? It was a fucking mansion. His parents got rich off the efforts of their pack minions. The pair were lazy as the day was long.

  “That?” he asked, studying the decrepit vehicle warily. “That thing’s a hundred years old and makes a noise like a rocket.”

  “Hence the reason we’re not taking off from the front door,” Elvis replied snarkily, tugging Carter’s ponytail teasingly before helping his friend into the four by four. “I packed a bag each,” he said.

  “What did you pack?” Carter asked, knowing his friend’s idea of emergency supplies was a lot different to his. Carter had no use for makeup remover, nail polish, or emery boards. He figured a gun would be useful…and a fast plane out of there.

  “All sorts of snacks, your favorite onesie, and some underwear,” Elvis said breezily, starting the engine. “Oh, and some magazines for the journey. I did remember to bring some painkillers for you.” He showed Carter a packet of paracetamol.

  Carter groaned. “We’re gonna die,” he moaned, closing his good eye again.

  Elvis chuckled cheerfully. “One way or another,” he agreed, and headed along a rough track that was a shortcut to the main road. “But not today. I didn’t go through all this for nothing. I mean, for God’s sake, look what I’m wearing?” He gestured to his idea of camouflage clothing.

  “Do you have a plan?” Carter asked. “No teasing, this is serious.”

  Elvis sent him a look that was filled with resolve. “Yeah, we need to leave this fucking hellhole and never return,” he said, with admirable conviction. “I can’t live like this, being a punching bag for my shit-ass parents. And you were as close to death as I’ve seen when I found you.” He looked tearful and sniffed before focusing on the road again. “Nobody should have to live like this.”

  Carter silently agreed and reached to pat his friend’s shoulder. “I know,” he whispered. He thought for a moment. “I might know where we can go,” he said. “It’s risky, but it’s the only place that doesn’t have Ruin written all over it. When my parents ordered us after Hartland, Craig, their new mate, told us I was welcome there if I need help. He meant it. I know he did. Not sure his mates were too enthusiastic though. It’s the only place I can think of, though.”

  Elvis high-fived Carter. “You got it, my man,” he sang merrily. “Now let’s haul ass, kid. We gots some miles to go,” he added in a fake Texas twang.

  Carter closed his eye again and tried to ignore the broken bones that scraped together. His head ached like a bitch, his ribs were obviously broken, and he had double vision. He was fairly sure there were other, internal injuries, as well. He prayed this journey wasn’t his last. The ancient land rover bounced over the rocky ground, adding to his misery. If he didn’t get a punctured lung of out this trip, he’d kiss a trout and dance naked through the streets of Aberdeen.

  He faded out, curling in the ripped seat that smelled of sheepdog and cow manure.

  * * * *

  Elvis yawned, driving carefully along a narrow track, fifty miles from home. The slender valley he’d just entered widened into a wider hollow, about three miles long, and a half mile across, with a beautiful house sitting proudly beside a small loch. Several streams tumbled from the surrounding hills, and there was a large copse of trees at one end. The mountains were covered with heather, and he saw a stand of conifers had been planted along the lower slopes. Some of the land close to the house had been turned over into two small fields, and he saw the beginnings of crops sprouting. Alpha Hartland obviously wanted this to be self-sustaining, evidenced by the sight of livestock grazing languidly. He smiled as he spied a herd of deer close to the woodland.

  He smelled the air, saw the sunshine in the sky, and had a good feeling about the place. He just hoped the owners didn’t rip out his throat before he’d explained his presence here.

  He drove about a mile farther and then cursed as the engine finally gave up the ghost and rattled to a stop. Fuck it! Checking the gas gauge, he cursed again. What an idiot! The dial had been stuck on full since they set off. Clearly the thing was as fucked up as the rest of the vehicle. He considered it a miracle that they’d made it this far.

  Elvis glanced at his friend, feeling sick as he saw the true extent of Carter’s injuries. He hadn’t been exaggerating earlier. Carter was in a bad way and was still critical, judging by the harsh breathing that had worsened during their bone-jarring trip down to this isolated valley. He winced, thinking that perhaps he should have commandeered a slightly smoother ride, but there hadn’t been time. This old clunker was the only thing he’d been able to find.

  There was a knock on the window, and he froze as he stared down the barrel of a very large pistol. Fuck. Now he was going to have his head blown off.

  He smiled sweetly, trying for charm. “Hi,” he said, swallowing hard. “Er, my friend and I need assistance,” he continued, meeting eyes the color of mint sauce, in a face that was gorgeous yet deadly, and icy cold.

  “Get out of the vehicle,” the guy ordered, backing away. “Keep your hands where I can see them and step out slowly. Any sudden moves and you’re gonna wish your parents hadn’t met that one time.”
<
br />   Elvis snorted at that. “I already do,” he retorted bitterly, curling his lip. “And exactly how am I supposed to get out of a locked vehicle when I can’t use my hands? Hmmm?”

  The green stare narrowed at his sarcasm. “One wrong move, sweet pea, and I’ll blow you a new airway.”

  “Ooh, really? I just love tough guys. Oh, wait. You can’t be one because you called me sweet pea. Only pussies use that terminology.”

  Green Eyes blinked, a cold smile curving his sexy mouth. “Pussies with guns can use whatever terminology they like, sweet pea,” he retorted. “Now get out, or I’ll smash the fucking window.”

  Elvis glared right back. “Smash it, fuckwad. We came here for help, not more bullying. My friend’s dying, and you want to get into a pissing contest? Fuck you!”

  Green Eyes glanced at the passenger, frowning. “If this is a trick…” he warned.

  “You’ll do what? Talk me to death?” Elvis drawled, sticking out his tongue.

  He thought he saw a hint of amusement in the guy’s unfriendly stare, but figured he must have imagined it. This idiot had permafrost running through his veins.

  The man rounded the front of the land rover. “Unlock it,” he ordered. Elvis rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically, but obeyed, pouting.

  He watched as the guy examined Carter and then growled low when his friend was lifted carefully.

  “Well, come on, sweet pea. And shove that piece of junk off the track, will you? It’s blocking the road.”

  Elvis stared after the rude prick and then flounced out of the vehicle. Releasing the hand brake, he managed to push the car to the side with some effort, cursing luridly the whole time. He’d probably broken a fucking nail, now. And where the fuck would he get a manicure in the wilds?

  He dragged their scant baggage from the back and then followed bossy britches down the narrow trail. It was fairly steep, and he had to hustle to avoid tripping on the rock-strewn ground. He grimaced as he stood in a wet patch of mud, shaking off his yellow high tops in disgust.