Jensen stepped through the door of Noelle’s home. The silence of the place threatened to shatter his eardrums. The home was meant for noise. Goofy, childish laughs. Galloping feet against the floor. Television playing cartoons in the background.
Instead, it was dark and quiet.
He wolf roved through his head and pushed into his senses. The beast was desperate to catch any scent of Noelle, any sign of Sienna. Those two were the world, and neither were anywhere within the walls.
Sendings swirled in his head. The happy little family reunited. Noelle with a mate mark on her skin.
Jensen quashed the images flashing through his mind. Those wouldn’t be his reality until he could force the Slayers to back the fuck off. Hell, that picture perfect reality might not ever be his. He had to resign himself to the very real possibility of fixing shit for Noelle and walking away.
And watching quietly from the distance.
Warning away any male that sniffed in her direction.
Working his hands to the bone to provide extra for Sienna.
Fuck, he might not be allowed in their lives, but he’d do his best to make sure they were good ones. That started with his father’s question—allies.
Jensen pulled out his phone and punched in Ellis’s number. He’d have to eat shit, probably, but he’d swallow with a smile if it meant he fixed the world for Noelle and Sienna.
“Yes?” Ellis answered.
Jensen didn’t bother with pretty words or pleasantries. He had business to attend, and that started with making sure the last task he set Ellis to was complete. “You got rid of him?”
Ellis paused. “He won’t be any trouble.”
“Good.” Jensen nodded to himself. One less Slayer to worry about wouldn’t turn the tide entirely, but it was a start. “I want to meet with Jughead and the rest.”
“You think that’s wise?”
“I think it’s the only way to get this shit sorted.”
Bryce wanted a fight Jensen wanted to avoid. Jughead wanted to bleed anything that moved. Jensen was just one wolf while the Slayers had numbers on their side.
Jensen ran a mental hand down his wolf’s back to calm the growl building in his throat. “Another thing. We need wolves. You been in touch with any of the others?”
Ellis solidly stood in his court, it seemed. He’d answered when called, watched over Noelle when requested, even set meets when Jensen thought there was a chance in hell of avoiding more bullshit.
“Wyatt. He’s on the fence. I know Bryce has been courting him like a prom date,” Ellis chuckled.
“You have any idea what direction he’d lean?”
“No,” Ellis answered honestly. “There’s no telling which way he’ll blow one minute to the next.”
Jensen paced from one window to another. Wild card. Last time he’d tried to talk sense into someone, he got jumped and had his ass handed to him.
For all the uneasy, unpredictable anger that made up Wyatt, he saw more than anyone else gave him credit for. He was a dick nine times out of ten, but he was one of the first to stand up to their former alpha when Viho spiraled into death-madness. Jensen had to count that for something. Asshole or not, Wyatt wasn’t as crazy and desperate for blood as the rest.
But the others? Bryce, Rocco, Lars, Dillon? They were big bruisers looking to make others bleed. They ran where they were told, fought when let off the leash, but weren’t ones to think for themselves except to consider where to find their next drink and fuck. They needed a prick like Jughead to point them in his chosen direction.
“Wyatt first, then the Slayers. I want him with us if he’s not siding with them,” Jensen said. “Set it up and shoot me the details.”
Ellis grunted and hung up the phone.
Jensen paced the front windows, then slipped out into the back yard. The moon hung huge and bright in the sky. A blessing for him, he hoped, but he wasn’t the only wolf in Redwater. Perhaps all the gods in the sky planned to shine their favors on others and leave him in darkness.
The fate was one he couldn’t contemplate, but still needed to consider. His girls were safe for the night. Longer, if his parents could convince Noelle to stay. Even if she insisted on leaving the safety of the pack, he doubted his father would let his grandpup go anywhere without some covert protection.
Even if he failed, they would be safe. For a night, a day, maybe years.
He didn’t want to give up more years. He hadn’t known anything more existed for him in Redwater. Now that he knew, well, he wouldn’t let it go without a fight.
His phone buzzed with one message followed by another. Two addresses, both sent from Ellis.
Wyatt first. Then the Slayers.
Jensen bared his teeth at the moon. He turned and let himself out of the home, locking it up behind him. Noelle would find everything in its place when she returned, with or without him.
The first address led him out of town and into lonely darkness. He streaked down the road for miles and miles until his headlight slashed across the dirt turn off. The noise of his engine bounced off the jagged hills guiding him deeper into darkness.
Jensen slowed his bike to a crawl as he rounded the final bend. One tiny glowing light flickered in the broken window of a small shack. Two motorcycles stood near the front.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled when he spotted one hulking figure stepping into the darkness.
Jensen kicked the stand to settle his ride. Ellis already waited for him and a quick sniff of the air brought a sour, second scent to his nose. Wyatt lurked in the shadows nearby.
“I’m here,” he announced to the darkness. “Let’s talk.”
Boots rustled in the leaves and brush on the ground until Wyatt appeared at the edge of the shack. He spat on the ground. “Ellis said you wanted words. Say your piece and leave.”
Jensen’s glare took in both Wyatt and Ellis. “No need for words if you’ve already made up your mind,” he growled.
Ellis marched over to Wyatt and smacked him in the back of the head. “We haven’t. Yet.”
Jensen pressed his lips together. The fuck was he doing? He wasn’t fit to lead. He didn’t want the crown or the burden. That was meant for better men than him. Ones who weren’t balls deep in grime.
His wolf snarled at him. Jensen kicked the beast to the back of his head along with his objections. He knew exactly what he was doing and why.
For Noelle. For Sienna. He’d bend the entire world to his will to keep them safe.
He cleared his throat. “You looked to me when it became obvious Viho and the Vagabonds weren’t going to make it. They were getting picked off one by one and our alpha wasn’t willing or able to step up and protect us.
“You looked to me when we hit the road. And like Viho, I wasn’t there the way you needed. I could make excuses about nursing my own hurts or just not giving enough of a shit, but that’s all they are. Excuses. You followed me—batshit as that makes you—and I should have respected that. I didn’t, and here we are.”
“And where the fuck is that, exactly?” Wyatt growled. “In a shithole town with a single bar we can’t even visit because the fuckface Slayers are jerking each other off inside? We’d be better off rotting on the side of the road. You see where the fuck I have to hole up? A man needs more than this.”
“Wyatt,” Ellis started.
Wyatt shoved a finger at the other man. “No. Fuck you, and fuck him, and fuck all the rest. We went through hell following Viho. He pushed and pushed and pushed until we broke. Maybe I’m done. Maybe I’m just done with everything. No more fights, no more alpha orders, no wondering if today is the day someone is going to put me down. We’re fucked. All of us. You’re even stupider than you look if you think otherwise.”
“Wyatt,” Jensen said in a low voice. His wolf rose up on the notes and demanded attention.
Wyatt’s blue eyes blazed unnaturally. He shook his head as if to clear it. “Never should have come to this town,” he muttered. “
Nothing but trouble here.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. We’re here now. I intend to stay.” Jensen shrugged. “The Moonlight Slayers want a piece of me. They want my mate. They’d leave my pup without parents. They have this town by the throat and they don’t want to let go. You know what I say? Fuck ‘em. They don’t deserve to taste the exhaust from our bikes.”
Wyatt stayed quiet and sullen, so Jensen pressed on. “There’s a moment in everyone’s life where they’re confronted with the need to step up or keep on down the same path as ever. One is easy. The other is the hardest fucking ask in the universe. But that’s what I’m asking. We can be better than Viho. We can be better than Vagabonds or Slayers or whatever scumfuck club we’ve ever come across. We’re better men than that. At least, I aim to be. Because it’s not just about me anymore. So yeah, I’m asking you to step up tonight.”
Agitation crackled in the air around Wyatt. He rolled his shoulders and shot bright, inhuman looks in either direction. When he finally focused back on Jensen, murder was written across his features. “Fine. But I’m out once you get your fix.”
Jensen watched him with new eyes. Agitated, yes. He couldn’t keep still. But there was something wild and reckless in his scent. Dangerous, if not contained. He wouldn’t last long going lone wolf.
The man needed a guiding hand. He needed an alpha.
Shit. One little pep talk from his old man and he was already thinking about building a pack for more than a single fight.
Well, he’d have to live to see morning.
“All right. Let’s go chase some ears and pull some tails. Or is it the other way around?”
The other two cracked thin smiles. Ellis even chuckled.
“Thought your days of chasing tail were over,” Ellis said.
“Yeah.” Jensen nodded. His wolf pressed him with a single shot of Noelle with Sienna in her lap. “Only two girls in the world for me, now.”
He had to make their world safe.
Chapter 15
“The fuck are they?”
The second meet of the night was off to a worse start than the first. The hair on the back of Jensen’s neck raised like he was being watched. Deep in the back of his mind, his wolf paced.
He turned his head slowly, taking in all the details of the small room in the back of the liquor store. Bryce and the others had made the place their base of operations, but their scents were faint and old. Jensen doubted they’d been there since they tried to put him down. And what need would they have of the store when they were pledging to the Slayers and had access to a fully stocked bar?
“Fuck this,” he growled. “I know where they are. We go to them.”
“That wise?” Ellis asked from where he lounged against the wall. Chin dipped to his chest and arms crossed, he was the picture of deceptive relaxation.
“If you’re fine getting stood up by your date to the prom, that’s on you,” Wyatt rocked back in his seat and laced his hands behind his head.
“Is that where you went wrong? No one agreed to go out with your sorry ass?” Ellis snorted. “Makes perfect sense why you are the way you are.”
Wyatt saluted Ellis with a single middle finger and growled.
“Enough.” Both men jerked their attention to him. Huh. Maybe being alpha wasn’t so bad if it cut their bullshit down to nothing. “Let’s go.”
Jensen was the first through the door, and the first to see movement on the other side of the frosted glass.
The window shattered and fire arced through the air.
“Stop!” Jensen shouted, throwing his arms wide and halting Ellis and Wyatt.
Two bottles slammed into a shelf and exploded in bursts of heat and flame he could feel from the back of the store.
Three more Molotov cocktails soared through the broken window. One landed on the register counter and immediately burned through the plastic wrappers of snacks and impulse buys. The others broke against liquor bottles. Fire spread quickly up and down the aisles and billowed smoke near the roof.
But the Slayers weren’t done. Through the haze and heat, Jensen spotted two figures crossing paths outside the broken window and entrance. As soon as they stepped back, a third flicked something toward the ground and ignited a wall of flames.
Jensen spun and shoved the others back through the door. “Alley, now!”
They marched through the back office and into the storage area. Smoke followed fast on their heels, along with the flash of heat as the fire licked and consumed the rest of the store.
Ellis threw himself against the door. He rammed his shoulder into the metal again and again, until the door dented under him. His eyes turned gold and a rabid growl leaked from his throat.
Again.
The door shook.
Again.
Metal groaned and gave way an inch. Another slam of Ellis’s shoulder and the entire frame cracked.
Ellis reared back as Jensen lifted his foot and kicked at the opening.
Almost. Almost to freedom.
He ignored the itch in his throat and the mad scrambling of his inner wolf. Neither would serve a purpose.
When the door finally fell away, he urged Wyatt and Ellis outside first. He stumbled into the alley after them.
“Split up. I want those cheating fucks caught on both sides,” he ordered. With a nod, Ellis took off around one side of the building while he and Wyatt edged around the other.
Chaos was the only word he could use to describe the madness unfolding up and down the street.
Every window he could see was cracked and smashed. Chairs and tables and other inside decor were strewn in mangled messes in the street. Doors were kicked in and he knew destruction would be found inside.
What scents he could distinguish were sharp and afraid. Few faces dared step outside and inspect the damage.
Their bikes, too, were included in the damage. They’d parked them in a neat little row in front of the burning liquor store, but some asshat kicked them into the middle of the road.
“This is a fucking mess,” Ellis said as he jogged up to Jensen.
Shit. Fuck. Cockguzzling knob heads.
He’d pulled enough tails and gotten enough attention. The Slayers were making sure none of the town dared question them. Random acts of violence kept their boot on the throats and everyone in line.
“Keep moving,” Jensen growled. He lifted his bike from the mess and ran a hand down the frame. Scratched to shit, but everything looked intact. If he already didn’t want to murder the whole lot of them, fucking with his ride would have made him see red. “We know where they’ll be.”
His engine kicked over with a roar. Two more followed, and he gave the signal to ride.
His wolf welled to the surface. Fur pressed against his skin; his bones thickened and stretched against his muscles. The beast wanted out.
Soon, Jensen soothed the creature. Offerings of blood and death would come soon.
He eyed his little pack—yes, pack. They showed up when he called, they were there when he needed. They were his pack, and together they would get over all the shit the Slayers wanted to put at their feet.
Fuckers wanted a fight? They’d give them one.
Two other buildings rose up in flames as they wheeled through the debris in the road. A handful of Slayers kept on with their destruction, tearing apart any store that caught their eye.
Jensen and the others pulled up to Moonlight Saloon without any trouble. Idiots still hadn’t learned proper security. Only one man guarded the entrance, and he barely looked up as they cut the engines and settled their bikes on stands.
Jensen stalked forward and was almost to the guard by the time he looked up. Recognition dawned, but it was too late. Jensen blasted a fist straight into the man’s face. He stumbled and clasped hands to his nose, slurring something, but Jensen wound up for another blow. The second one crashed against his temple and knocked him out flat.
“This is it.” Jensen turned and eyed his tiny pack in turn. “You
ready?”
“We gonna talk about it all night, or are we gonna fight?” Wyatt asked, grinning like a madman.
Jensen jerked his chin to the line of bikes. “Kick ‘em over, then come through the back. We’ll bar the doors on the ones sent to check the noise and eat them from the inside out.”
“Devious motherfucker,” Ellis muttered, rubbing his hands together.
They separated with a final nod. Jensen strode straight for the door and ripped it open. No sense in trying to stay hidden. He wanted to make himself known.
Moonlight Slayers manned tables and the bar. Some held up spoils of war, shimmying mockingly behind pretty dresses or trading for trinkets. What wasn’t smashed or ripped to pieces by morning would be sold off whenever they next needed an influx of cash.
“Sure know how to throw one hell of a party,” Jensen announced loudly over the pumping music.
Activity halted. All eyes turned toward the back of the bar. Jensen followed where they looked and his wolf snarled the moment Jughead shoved aside one of his minions.
“Town needed a reminder of who’s running the place,” Jughead called as he swaggered forward.
Motherfucker. He was no saint. Devil in disguise, more like it. But there were rules to the life. He’d lived by them for years, tried to temper the viciousness in Viho and the rest of the Vagabonds. Innocents weren’t to be harmed. Coming down hard on an entire town was asking for the Shifter Extinction Assholes to show up with bullets flying.
“We’re down a man. Know anything about that?”
Jensen spread his hands wide. “Shouldn’t have come after my girl.”
“You got big balls, I give you that.” Jughead pointed with his bottle. “You’re also dumb as shit. Pussy make you stupid, traitor?”
As much as his wolf wanted to rip and tear into him, Jensen kept the beast locked away inside. He had to play this smart. “Wanted to talk terms.”
“Finally, some sense from you!” Jughead grinned. “Here it is. You’re outnumbered. Walk away. And I mean walk. Leave everything behind. Your pride, your bike, your girl. Get the fuck out of my town.”
Whiskey and Wolves: Book One: Shifters and Sins Page 10