by Eva Gordon
Cricket took the ones she indicated. “Mom will be so happy to know he might have traveled to Patagonia.”
Slade let go of her chin. “Thank you.”
The woman blinked. “Yes, of course.”
He smiled. “You won’t remember we were here.”
She returned to watching the television.
Cricket noted the only lingering lycan scent in the travel agency was Randi’s.
They stepped out. Slade closed the door and turned to Cricket. “It’s possible he left to explore Patagonia before sending off for his girlfriend and fell off a cliff.”
“I don’t know. Why would he bring some human biker buddy?”
He shrugged. “I imagine even a lone wolf needs the company of an occasional human friend.”
“One with a missing digit?”
“You think Randi bit it off?”
“I suppose it could have been a non-wolf related accident. We don’t all bite.” She furrowed her brow. “Still…”
“What?”
“I was just thinking how a person cuts a finger off when they need to show penance to the Japanese yakuza. Or to join some gang.”
“Most likely he lost it in a knife attack or accident, but you’re right, we should consider all possibilities.”
“Let’s head to his home and see if we can dig anything up.”
They sifted through every room and Randi’s possessions at his woodsy home and found nothing of significance. There were residual scents of his werewolf girlfriend and the warden, but no other lycan visitor. The living room, however, held a recent scent. Slade picked up a remote stuck behind a sofa pillow and sniffed it. “Human male.”
Cricket pulled out a beer bottle from the recycling bin and walked over to him. “Compare.”
He took a whiff. “Same male.”
“I bet he’s the man who accompanied him to the travel agency. Pinky.”
“Huh?”
“That’s what I call him because of his missing little finger.”
He laughed. “And here I thought you were sensitive about name calling.”
“Hah, hah. It’s not like I’d call him that to his face.”
He scanned the home. “Odd.”
She stiffened. “What?”
“Did you smell Pinky and any other humans anywhere else?”
“No, but I doubt Randi had humans over for barbecues.”
Slade wrinkled his nose. “I smell him on the remote and beer bottle and nowhere else.”
“Odd, you would think his scent would be all over the sofa or rug, or kitchen area.”
Her eyes widened. “The cleanup crew only picked up evidence, but since no crime was committed here no deep cleaning required.”
His hackles rose. “I heard in ancient times werewolf hunters covered their scent using an odorless chemical.”
“Yes.”
Slade cocked his head. “There really is such a formula?”
“Cloaking vaporo.” She lifted a brow. “Although, all known manuscripts containing the formula were burned long ago. However, rumors of some packs keeping the scrolls in a vault occasionally surface.”
If werewolf hunters were involved, he had to work alone. Otherwise, his entire focus would be protecting Cricket. “This might be too dangerous for you.”
Cricket gave him a pointed stare. “Duh. Being on Team Greywolf is all about danger.” She threw the empty beer bottle back in the recycling bin and mumbled, “Besides, it’s not like I’m mating material.”
Slade’s heart clenched. Did she really think she wasn’t worthy of living? Is this why she signed up for suicide missions? How could she consider death after surviving the change? Not on his watch. “You are too important to the team to risk being killed by a werewolf hunter.”
“First of all, as far as we know werewolf hunters no longer exist.”
“What about the masking formula?”
“Could be that a rogue werewolf got ahold of it.”
He didn’t give a damn. He’d feel better once she was safe in their territory. Better, in his den. He glanced at the spot on the desk where Randi’s computer had sat before the cleanup crew took it. “You looked at his computer back at headquarters, right?”
She nodded. “Yep. I found nothing except emails to his girlfriend Brenda in Oregon. The usual sweet nothing nonsense. No mention of Patagonia or biker friends. His computer history showed only stuff on motorcycles, deer hunting and believe it or not engagement rings.”
He fingered back his hair. “Yeah. You don’t disappear before you pop the question.”
“You think?” Cricket looked through his desk. “Perhaps when we visit the biker bar Pinky will be there.” She gave him a pointed stare. “Just follow my lead.”
Slade stiffened at her order. His fangs itched to emerge and bite her nose for not asking his permission. He suppressed his dominant urge. Technically, Cricket was in charge of the mission. “That is, if he’s a regular.”
“Hopefully, we’ll pick up a scent trail if he is.”
“I’ll check out the garage and backyard.”
“Sounds good. I’ll snoop around more.”
Cricket sat in front of a box of old books and DVDs. The aroma of rich tundra forest drove her mad with desire and distracted her from the task of finding clues. She gazed up at Slade as he entered. “Anything?”
“Nothing.”
Her phone buzzed. “Rylee.” She glanced at Slade and set it on speaker. Rylee came on the screen. “Yes, ma’am.”
“All packs are on lock down.”
Cricket frowned. “Why?”
“Things have moved to lycan DEFCON 1. Two unchanged packs have disappeared.”
Her heart stilled. Wolves before the change weren’t well guarded and given free range to roam and hunt as if they were real wolves. However, at least one changed beta or alpha chaperoned their movements. “And the guard if any?”
“Dead.”
Cricket flinched. “Which packs?”
“The Icelander pack and the Oregon pack,” answered Rylee.
“Oregon. That’s Randi’s girlfriend’s pack.”
“Was. Brenda is dead. She had guard duty, and her body was found next to three murdered unchanged omegas.”
Slade grimaced. “Randi must be insane with grief.”
“That is, if he’s still alive,” said Rylee.
“Why would they kill the omegas?” asked Cricket.
“The commonality between both lost packs is the lower ranked wolves were slaughtered.”
Slade’s fangs emerged, and his tone darkened. “They murdered the helpless.”
Cricket flinched at his helpless reference toward the lower ranks. Especially, since she was no longer so helpless. She had survived abuse from her evil sisters and probably stronger for it.
“I know, disgusting beyond belief. We don’t know if the alphas and betas taken are even alive. Alrik, the German king’s pack and European lycan intelligence is searching all of Europe.”
Slade shook his head. “So now the perpetrators are focused on our unchanged ones?”
Rylee normally remained in control, but not now. Her fangs too, extended to their full length. “And for that they will feel the wrath of our claws and fangs.” She took a long breath then continued. “There is more.”
Cricket’s fangs did not shoot out. Too human to go all-wolf. Yet, never had Cricket seen Rylee so livid. “More?”
“Dr. Warner and his omega assistants are dead.”
Cricket and Slade looked at one another.
“When?” asked Slade.
“Last night an alpha seeking help for one of his betas found him. Beheaded, just like the German psychiatrist. Two betas and one alpha female under treatment have disappeared.”
A chill coursed up Cricket’s spine. “This is bigger than I ever imagined.”
“Explain.”
Cricket relayed everything, including the lack of human scent at Randi’s place and his mystery human frie
nd or foe, Pinky.
Rylee nodded. “You and Slade follow that lead. You have carte blanche to do whatever is necessary. Randi had an obvious connection to Oregon’s pack. I sent half of our team to Oregon and the other to Warner’s clinic.”
“Any word from the other missing werewolves?”
“Nothing. Dominic and his crew will meet me in Oregon. Trevor is taking the lead at Warner’s clinic.” She stared at them. “Find that mystery human.”
Slade’s large hands settled on her shoulders. Was he worried about her staying on or seeking her comfort after all the horrific news?
He released a slow breath. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Keep me posted. And Cricket?”
“Yes?”
“You are in charge; however, listen to Slade’s advice concerning your safety.”
Ugh. She already sensed Slade’s overbearing need to protect her with every breath of his expanding chest. “Very well, ma’am.”
“I promise to bring her back in one piece,” Slade vowed.
“I know you will,” said Rylee. The screen blinked out.
Cricket sighed. “Okay, we’re going undercover and not stopping until we find the assholes.”
“Agreed.”
How could Rylee trust him with the mission? Yet, with all the chaos, maybe she figured she’d no choice. “Umm. Wait. Are you okay?”
“Yes, why do you ask?”
“Your psychiatrist is dead and werewolves slaughtered. I mean, I hate to remind you about your own loss, but I need a soldier.” She lowered her head. “I can’t have someone with post-traumatic stress going into dangerous situations.” If he flipped out, not only could it cost them their lives, but the lives of the missing werewolves and the unchanged ones.
“I live to bring honor to my fallen pack and serving the LIA.”
Cricket met his searing eyes, the eyes of a knight pledging his life for the good of all. “I understand.”
Chapter 12
Slade and Cricket sat at a booth at the Crash and Dive biker bar. Harleys and Hondas riddled the parking lot. Busy night. On arrival, Cricket had walked around with Randi’s photo, but only the bartender and a waitress remembered seeing him. Perhaps as more regulars came in, they’d have better luck. Slade sipped his beer. “The odds of Pinky showing up are next to nil. Why would he? If he had been part of the kidnapping for some nefarious werewolf hunter society, he’d stay away.”
Cricket nodded. “And if he was Randi’s friend, he might have been another casualty.”
Slade glowered at the men who came in and took in an eyeful of Cricket’s low neckline and cleavage. The sleeveless corset-like black leather top was definitely an attractant. How the fuck would looking sexy help the case?
The men detected his glare and no matter how macho they appeared, they subconsciously stayed the hell away from the superior predator.
Cricket raised her brow. “Hey, chill. I’m not going home with anyone.” She giggled. “Yet.”
“Never.” He leaned in. “Remember, you are my girlfriend.”
“Old lady.” She took a pretzel from the bowl. “Here, chewing will relax your jaw.”
He took it and chewed it, his eyes narrowed to show his annoyance.
Cricket sniffed and turned.
Too pissed off to argue about her wanton ways, he drank his beer until a familiar scent hit his nose. The mystery biker friend, Pinky.
She nodded at Slade. “It’s him.”
Slade glanced at the skinhead biker who ordered a whisky at the bar. Missing his little finger.
Pinky scoped the area, but didn’t notice them in the booth. He downed a shot and talked to a big-breasted blue-haired barmaid. The young woman had said she noticed Randi because of his height and good looks. The one who gave Slade dreamy eyes. The lady loved wolves. His wolf had winked at her in appreciation.
She smiled at Slade and then said something to Pinky.
Slade listened, his wolfish hearing primed on their conversation.
“Yeah, the couple at the booth near the pool table. She’s been asking a lot of questions about her missing brother, Randi.”
“What did you say?” Pinky lifted a brow.
“That he was one of the regulars and how fucking good looking he was, but nowhere as good looking as the chick’s boyfriend.”
“Thanks, babe.” Pinky gave her a wad of cash and ordered another drink.
Cricket whispered, “He knows we’re on to him.”
“Should I snatch him?”
Her gaze flicked upward. “No. That’s the last thing we do in public.”
“Obviously. I meant when he leaves.”
“Let me smooth talk him.” Cricket pushed up her corset.
He swallowed his drool. “Are you sure?”
“Maybe he’s looking for Randi as well.”
“We’ll both go.”
“I don’t think we need to intimidate him. It’s better if I go alone to ask him about my missing bro.”
Difficult as it was, he agreed. “As long as you don’t leave with him.”
“I’ve been with more dangerous men and…” She sighed and gripped his face, then kissed him. Long and hard, rendering him into an obedient pup rather than a lethal wolf. She broke away and winked. “Pretty obvious we’re an item.”
Damn right. “Very well, but stay within sight.”
“No problem.” She picked up the photo of Randi, with her photoshopped next to him by a lake.
Cricket was no fool. She patted her hidden Glock before leaving Slade’s protective hold. Pretty sure Slade, like her, had a gut feeling Pinky was more foe than friend. “Hey, may I take a seat?”
He grinned from ear to ear. “On my lap if you want, babe.”
She tilted her head toward Slade, who looked like he was on the verge of turning wolf if Pinky got too amorous. “My boyfriend is the jealous type, but honestly I’m all for losing him.”
Slade stiffened, privy to their conversation. Cricket smiled. That’ll teach him to flirt with the blue-haired boob queen.
“I’d like that.”
“My name is Cindy.” The undercover name she used around most humans.
“I’m Jack.”
Cricket moved the bar stool closer to him and fingered his leather sleeve. His pulse moved into overdrive. Horny bastard. She took a whiff of him. Randi’s residual smell lingered on him. Perhaps a week ago, before he went missing.
He signaled the bartender and then turned to her. “What do you want, darlin’?”
“I’ll have what you had.”
“Two whiskeys.”
The bartender nervously looked at Slade, and then spoke to Jack. “We don’t want trouble.”
Cricket shot Slade a quick glance. Shit. His canines extended to the point of being noticeable. She better play it cool and show Jack Randi’s photo. Slade, don’t even think about going wolf in a room full of biker dudes. Ugh. I knew it was too soon to send him out. He belonged in the arctic forest hunting moose, not mingling with humans.
Jack narrowed his eyes at the bartender. “Just bring the drinks.” He smiled at her. “So why did you choose me to piss off your old man?”
“Actually, I’m making the rounds.” She whipped out the photo. “I’m looking for my brother.”
He stared at the photograph then back at her. “You don’t look related.”
“Different fathers,” she said.
“Never met him.”
Yeah, right. So why is his scent on you? His pulse climbed. Liar. At least she determined he was foe and not friend. “Oh, well, no problem.”
He stood and grabbed her. One hand on her ass. “Why don’t we lose the boyfriend now?”
“Where to?” She ignored Slade’s low growl.
“My place.”
“And where would that be?” Cricket asked loud enough so Slade could hear.
“I’ll tell you as soon as we leave.” He squeezed her arm, bruising her. Strong for a human.
Ouch! A
sshole. She grabbed his arm, hooked her foot around his ankle and did a leg sweep, knocking him off his feet. The roar of the loud music and loud conversations didn’t stop the bikers from looking. Many laughed. A giant of a man on the floor because of a petite woman seemed to be the night’s main entertainment.
Slade thundered over and clutched him by his collar. “What the hell did you do to my girlfriend?”
His eyes widened. “Dude, nothing. I just wanted to talk to her, nothing more.”
Cricket frowned. “Actually, don’t you think, it’s what I did to him?” Didn’t she just prove she could take care of herself against the beefcake, even without fangs, claws and Glock?
Two building-sized bouncers walked over. The smaller one snarled, “You guys want to take this outside?”
Cricket blurted, “Sorry, just a misunderstanding.”
Undeterred, Slade stared at Pinky. Jack probably wasn’t even his real name. “Yes, let’s take this outside.”
She wrapped her arm about Slade’s hard bicep. “Hon, why don’t we go home?”
Slade nodded. He gently pushed her away and yanked the big man up from the floor. Great. He needs to tone down his werewolf super strength. Or, at least make it look like martial arts.
Pinky’s eyes widened and then he smiled. “I get it. She’s hot, and I had sticky paws. Sorry dude.” He patted the front of his jacket and backed away.
Cricket lifted a brow. Sticky paws? He knew they were werewolves. Unless, he signed the contract and was marked, he’d need to be eliminated.
The bouncers stepped between Slade and Pinky. The bigger one grabbed Pinky and shoved him to the door. “Leave.”
“Okay, don’t fucking touch me.”
The blue-haired waitress chased after Pinky and the bouncer. “The bitch started it.”
“Did not.” Cricket frowned. “Hey, whatever happened to the customer is always right?”
Slade held her back and whispered in her ear, “We’ll scent his location later.”
She nodded. A good plan. Maybe while the asshole slept.
Pinky brandished a large serrated knife and stabbed the bouncer in the gut. The bouncer groaned and fell. The blue-haired waitress screamed, and Pinky pushed her against the second bouncer then dashed out. Pinky sprinted toward his bike, and as the injured bouncer’s blood spilled between his fingers, the other bikers realized what happened and rushed forward. Slade gave chase, and Cricket followed. “Let’s get him.” He mashed the accelerator, and she had only seconds to hop on before they took off on windy dark roads.