by KH LeMoyne
A mix of local farmers turned businessmen looking for the next easy buck. Neither appealed to his cougar. The desire to roam free was the only thing calling to him, but what he wanted didn’t matter.
He considered a table near the front windows where he could stare down every person in the room, but he wasn’t pushing for a confrontation. Especially since everyone here was not so discreetly checking out the stranger in town. The humans were assessing his clothes and trying to figure out if he was a drifter or thief. Or maybe just a taxman.
Most of the shifters, of which he detected six, realized he was above them on the food chain. Since he carried no overriding scent of an alpha bond, they’d most likely consider him a rogue. He didn’t want to advertise his allegiances, or lack thereof, but this particular job didn’t offer him the luxury to work silently in the shadows.
Two of the shifters, a fox and a weasel, kicked their chairs back, threw down their money, and left giving him a wide berth. Three more people followed them.
He took a seat at the counter, turning over the clean coffee cup and gesturing to the young woman behind the counter. When she approached, he nodded with his head toward the now-empty seats on either side of them. “I’m guessing you guys don’t get a lot of strangers around here.”
She shrugged, and flipped a stray bit of short blonde hair behind her ear with a laugh. “Don’t let it worry you, but yeah. Everybody in this town is sort of set in their ways.”
“You must be from here?” he asked.
“Born and raised,” she said and leaned forward. “As soon as I get enough money, I’m heading out to Seattle. Going to make some money in one of the speakeasies and travel the world.”
“Well, I’ll help you out with that.” He put down several bills on the counter. “How about you get me some meatloaf and a slice of cherry pie.”
“Sure thing.”
He stayed hunched over his coffee, pretending not to take notice of those around him, but it was a small town and an even smaller diner. When half the remaining people got up and left within the next ten minutes, he got the distinct impression most of them considered him more of a threat than just a drifter. Not his problem.
The door opened behind him, and he glanced in the reflection of several framed pictures on the wall. A slow-moving man with graying hair at his temples sidled up to the counter two seats away and waved toward the waitress. “Stella, can you bring me a cup of coffee and some of Benny’s chicken? If there’s any left.”
“Got it, Marvin. Any new people come in on the train?” she asked. She gave Breslin a sly wink, and he realized she was cleverer than he’d first anticipated, reading his need for information without him having to ask. Which was okay; he didn’t mind tipping well for cooperation. He preferred not to be seen as the one dragging out the information.
“You work at the depot?” Breslin accepted a refill on his coffee from Stella and turned partway to look over the man’s blue jacket with an obvious badge, half-undone necktie, and the strands of gray hair sprouting from his ears.
“For the few times the train comes in during the day.” Marvin nodded. “Then I fill in down at the post office. Why, you waiting for somebody?”
“As a matter of fact, I’m expecting my sister-in-law. Just don’t know whether she’s coming in today or tomorrow. She’s not real good about keeping schedules and letting everybody know what she’s doing.”
“Yeah, hard to pin some females down on the details. We don’t get many new people through here, so she should be easy to spot. Did have two ladies come in today. Would yours have been coming with your brother?”
Breslin dragged a photo out of his pocket. A crease in the middle marred the full effect, but the woman’s features were clear despite the disorienting sepia tone to the photo. She had one hand posed on top of her head with it tilted back as if she were singing or entertaining. In her other hand, she pretended to flip the apron about her waist. “That’s her. My brother’s wife. But she’s coming in alone.”
“Pretty lady,” he said. “I didn’t get a real good look at the one who left with the Hunt family, but this isn’t the one with a husband. Kind of figured so since you don’t look much like him, and him being your brother and all.” He glanced over Breslin’s shoulder and gestured toward the door. “There’s the couple now. They might know where the other one went, since ladies sometimes gab.”
Breslin caught a glimpse of the young couple heading toward the back of the diner. Curious, he watched them choose a table giving them the best view of the front door and quick access to what looked like the back hallway and perhaps a fast exit.
He inhaled slowly, trying to figure out what it was about the couple setting off warning bells in his head. It might’ve been the fact neither of them carried the alpha scent or the distinct vibration he’d become familiar with from those who’d pledged to Deacon Black. But this man had pledged to someone. A sharp, nearly electric vibration rang from him. An echo so strong had to be painful. Breslin wondered what the bobcat shifter had done to have an alpha actively reining in one of his flock.
Adding another confusing note was the female’s scent. The ripe, sweeter change of scent announcing a female carrying young wafted and tantalized his nostrils. Her cougar scent stood out, strong, untarnished by an alpha bond and distinct—unmated. Yet, she was holding hands with the man. From their shared looks and close contact, there was no doubt they were involved with each other, making their lack of a combined mating scent unusual. An odd pairing, bobcat and cougar, but who was he to judge. They were at least both cats. He’d seen more unusual matches.
Before he could turn away, he noticed the man stare at him and stiffen. The woman sat straight in her chair, her pulse racing. He heard her whisper, “Callum, maybe we should leave?”
The man didn’t turn away from Breslin, almost seeming to challenge him. “Too late. He’s seen us.” He bent closer to her ear, but continued to stare.
“Don’t worry, Gillian. If he is an enforcer, he won’t make a scene in front of all these humans.”
Her breath evened and the muscles in her shoulders relaxed. For which Breslin was relieved. He didn’t mind scaring off a few rabbit shifters, but he was a cougar himself. Like both of his parents. He’d committed many unspeakable acts in his life, but he didn’t consider himself a man who’d purposely upset a pregnant female. If for no other reason than he’d hate to think of his mother put through such turmoil.
However, he intended to question them. He broke eye contact with Callum and returned to his meal, keeping an ear open for their conversation.
If both of them were from outside the territory, they’d likely answer his questions quickly in order to get rid of him.
Stella sauntered back to him, sliding a slice of cherry pie in front of him as she scooped up his empty plate and the money he’d placed beneath it. She gave him a wide grin. “Just let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
He watched her retreating figure, catching the exaggerated wiggle of her too-tiny ass, and shoved any thoughts of lingering in this town to the back of his mind. One last job and he was done. There wouldn’t be any Stellas in his future or any little cougar females waiting for him.
Measuring his bites of pie, he went through two more cups of coffee and waited until the couple had finished their meal. He dropped another bill and rose as if to leave, then pivoted in their direction.
Before they could even get out of their seats, he took the chair opposite them and slid the photo of the woman across the table. “I understand you both just came in on the train. Would you happen to have seen—”
“No,” replied Gillian, cutting him off and sliding the photo back with surprising vigor.
Callum blinked once, almost looking toward her. But he managed to recover and stood, supporting her as he rose. He put down an oversized payment for his bill also. Vying for Stella’s silence as well? “We don’t know anyone in town. We just got here and are leaving soon. You might try the man at the
depot.”
Breslin crossed his arms on the table. “It’s closed now.”
“Well then, I’m afraid my wife and I can’t help you.”
They sped to the door and hustled away from the diner. Breslin turned, watching them until they were out of sight, and considered what he had learned.
Callum looked and acted like a starched-shirt highbrow, or at least he’d had enough exposure to such people to dress the part and present a polished demeanor. His wife, while lovely, was something else altogether. This close to them, Breslin felt—well, he wasn’t sure what he’d felt. A wave? A tremor? No, something calm yet probing. Whatever offspring those two had created was resonating with a powerful force.
He shook his head. Then again, what did he know about babies? Shifter children might very well protect their parents from the womb. One thing he did know for certain. Both of those shifters were lying.
7
Callum guided Gillian to the boardinghouse and into the front parlor. He rubbed at the tightness in his chest and checked out the front window with its good view of the street. The cougar shifter hadn’t left the diner. The man resonated with power, definitely a potential threat, but he lacked an alpha bond just as Gillian did. A man with no loyalties. Inconvenient, given that the tightness of Callum’s own bond nearly strangled him, putting him in a bad position if the man showed up on their doorstep.
“We can leave, but we’ve no transportation.” Gillian paced in front of the empty fireplace, her shoes a soft shush on Rosie’s braided carpet, but her expression was calm. Even more so than when she’d shut the cougar shifter down. “What if I—”
“No.” Keeping Gillian safe was his one job in life, and he wasn’t about to mess that up. “Head on upstairs, and once I check around the house and make sure everything’s okay, I’ll join you.”
“I don’t think so,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “Rosie is down the street, having her spiked tea and cards with the old ladies in town. If she’d felt it was dangerous here, she’d have locked the house and given us a key. Now tell me what’s going on. And I’ll pretend I don’t see you hiding your pain again.”
He rubbed at the back of his neck, running out of options. His heart was beating like a train engine, and he could feel something coming. A torrential, evil storm pressing against his flesh. “When we left the barn, back at Doc’s, I could feel another enforcer coming. I thought they’d spotted me. I’d stake my life on it. But he never appeared, and we got away.”
She nodded. “You feel them coming closer again? Like you did in the Seattle train station.”
Damn. She might as well just read his mind, because keeping things from her definitely wasn’t working. “If he tracks me to this house, you’ll be trapped.”
“You mean we’ll be trapped, don’t you? And if we head back outside, then we have to deal with whoever is coming and the rogue cougar?”
“I don’t know. At least the guy in the diner isn’t bound to Karndottir. He’s not bound by the local alpha either. So, yes, he might be a rogue or a mercenary.”
“Mercenary? Maybe he’s like me and has his own reasons for never giving his oath.” She held up her hands and shrugged one shoulder. “He was a little silently scary, but he didn’t have the mad, lecherous feel of the enforcer in the barn or the creep in Seattle.”
At a crash in the backyard, they both froze. Callum put a finger to his lips and motioned for Gillian to head toward the hallway. There she had an equal shot of escaping to the kitchen or through the front door. The second option probably would be the best, since being trapped upstairs gave her no escape at all.
He crept toward the kitchen window and looked out over Rosie’s garden. Despite his order, Gillian followed behind him. Toward the back of Rosie’s property was an old stone creamery. The tiny building, lined with wooden shelves filled with tools, designated the end of her manicured yard and the beginning of a heavily wooded forest. A set of bright red eyes gleamed from the shadows of the creamery.
“You are not going out there alone,” Gillian snapped.
He shook his head and signaled with his fingers to his lips for silence. Then he patted her skirt pocket. Her lips were tight, but she responded to his gesture and slid the small knife he’d given her the first night on the train from the sheath in her pocket, drawing it out far enough so he could see the blade twinkle. He nodded again, looked outside again, and motioned over his shoulder with one finger. Then he raised two fingers and pointed toward the front door.
Understanding he wanted her to look out for more, she backed into the hallway and sank down, tucking herself into a small nook between the stairwell and a long table in the entryway. Callum tugged off his shirt, then hopped along the floor, wrenching off his shoes. He stepped out of his trousers and shifted, a rapid fire of flesh giving way to fur that momentarily seared his skin. He relished it. Fingers and toes gave way to pads with claws. He opened his mouth, drawing in a long breath and tasting the air with his tongue. Bobcats weren’t the most ferocious of the shifters, but what Callum lacked in bulk and extra-long fangs, he made up for in speed, dexterity, and most certainly motivation.
Nobody was getting to his mate and child.
He brushed out the screen door and stayed to the shadows of the porch. Harder to do than he expected, given he was much larger than his animal namesake. He brushed along the berry bushes and stalked beneath the tall trees. Assault from the top seemed his best strategy. He just needed to make it before the wolf shifter caught him.
Tools lay scattered along the pathway bordering the creamery. Evidently, the clatter used to get his attention. With no effort at all, he crouched and punched with his hind feet. He hit the trunk of one tree, flipped, and used the momentum to ricochet off another. Lured from the shadows, the enforcer sprang for him, but not before Callum landed several feet up on a long thick limb extending over the creamery roof. High enough to give him visibility of the entire yard, though he didn’t need height to see the massive gray wolf beneath him.
With an agile leap, Callum bounded to the roof. As expected, the wolf lunged upward, snapping at him with jaws large enough to engulf his entire head. Callum rolled onto his side as he descended and swiped wide with his front claws, gouging deep into fur and flesh and coming away with blood as the beast snarled and dropped away.
Not giving the wolf time to regroup, he swiveled and pounced onto the creature’s back. He dug his claws into the wolf’s flank and buried his teeth in the neck. They wrestled, twisting as the enforcer tried to knock him free.
He took a swift blow to the head against the creamery wall. More tools scattered from the shelves, littering the ground, and a cloud of bats nesting in the woods screeched and took off in a furor.
Ignoring the swelling threatening to close his right eye, Callum released his hold, sprang away, and gauged the heartiness of his adversary. The only important thing was ending this. Ending this enforcer and as many more as it took.
Callum dodged as the wolf swiped his massive front claws where seconds before Callum’s head had rested.
“No handy pitchfork this time, cat.” The words erupted, abnormal for even a shifter.
Alpha speak? His gut twisted, realizing his alpha could control his minions so far away. Or maybe he could only handle one at a time. With any luck, this long-distance effort drained energy. Still, how could he defeat the wolf if he was channeling an alpha’s strength? “Too bad there was no blazing inferno this time.”
“Didn’t believe you’d get away, did you?” The words hissed through the wolf’s teeth as disturbing to listen to as it was to watch. “Not so funny now punk.”
Callum growled, pleased he’d struck first blood.
“I’m taking your pathetic carcass back with your bitch to the alpha. When he’s done with her, she’ll wish you’d never been born.”
Callum eased his way back under the overhang of the creamery roof. If he managed a little space and some leverage, he just might have ano
ther shot at the overconfident thug. The wolf was trailing blood from the neck wound. Not enough to kill him, but another blow just like it might rip out his throat.
Now to lull the smug asshole into thinking he’d won. Callum stilled, then took a hesitant step, followed by a furtive glance to the side. Tamping down his fury, he coaxed a shadow of fear from his cat. Each step he took bought one small opportunity to catch his opponent off guard.
The wolf’s mouth curved, teeth gleaming in a satisfied grin. Yes, he thought his prey was weak and done for.
Then Callum sprang and twisted. His back paws punched into the stone wall. His front paws stretched forward, claws extended just as the wolf averted his gaze to something behind Callum.
He fought the instinct to check even as his claws made contact, but the harm had already been done. The distraction cost him precious moments. His teeth didn’t land in the wolf’s neck. Instead, his enemy powered a hard swing into his shoulder. The momentum of the impact sent Callum spiraling toward the nearest tree. His back exploded with pain as stars eclipsed his vision.
Gillian gripped the knife in one hand and clamped the other over her mouth to stifle her gasps as the two shifters in the backyard swirled across the ground. Just when she thought Callum had the upper hand, his cat took a direct hit into a tree trunk and slumped to the ground. No longer able to contain herself, she grasped the doorknob, prepared to hurtle out and join the fight.
Instead of pushing through to the outside, she found herself hauled back against a very hard body with a large hand covering her mouth. Struggling didn’t help. The arm around her rib cage merely tightened. She blinked and wrestled against the man holding her, all the while keeping her gaze on Callum. Her mate was pushing to his feet and unevenly dodging the wolf’s next attack.
“He started out well, but looks like he could use some help about now. Don’t you think?”
She couldn’t see the man from the diner, but his voice at her ear was unmistakable.