Cat's Howl: A Macconwood Pack Novel (The Macconwood Pack Series Book 2)

by C. D. Gorri

  True to her nature Cat was in out of the store in record time. Tate paused, raising a perfect black eyebrow when she did in fact purchase a twelve pack of double AA batteries. She rolled her eyes and kept shopping.

  “Guess you were serious about Mr. Vroom Vroom?”

  “You know, men always do have their minds in the gutter! Not surprising you’d remember that bit of our conversation!”

  “You do know you were the one to bring that up, not me.”

  “Oh please, like you can talk to a woman without bringing up sex or hitting on her?”

  “Um actually, I can. I talk to you all the time.”

  Ouch that stung. Cat had no intention of letting him see her squirm. She grabbed some snacks and headed to the check out line.

  “Everywhere I go men are always coming on to the women around them.”

  “Men and women can be just friends.”

  “No way. It’s almost impossible for them to work together let alone be friends.”

  “That’s simply not true.”

  “Oh yeah, I went for a coffee run with the new rookie, Johnny Dominguez and in five minutes he was all over me.”

  “What do you mean? What did he do?,” Tate narrowed his eyes, but Cat was already in front of him and didn’t catch the sudden shift in his posture.

  “I mean what a creep! He’s good looking and all, that wasn’t the problem. Tall, built, wavy brown hair, tan skin, dark eyes, but he’s a cocky jerk. Two seconds we’re waiting for coffee and he’s like grabbing my ass and trying to stick his tongue down my throat and I’m like oh heck no! I don’t even know you.”

  “What!,” Tate growled low and menacingly. Cat was so surprised she stopped short and turned around. He almost walked right into her amped up as he was.

  “What’s eating you? Like I can’t take are of myself? Please! Look, I had his arm behind his back and his face down on the counter in less than five seconds” Still, she thought. What was that guy’s problem? No was no.

  Tate shook his head. He needed to keep his attention on what was around them, not in Cat’s office romances. He placed a hand on the small of Cat’s back just as she swiped her card and punched in the four-digit security code.

  “They should rename this the $100 store, no matter what I come in here for, it costs me a $100.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Uh oh, play time’s over, she thought to herself. She hurried put the door with her bags in one hand. She was already reaching for the gun she kept in the small of her back when Tate pulled out his own nine millimeter.

  “I smell it too,” Cat threw her bags in the back and jumped into the passenger seat when the first shot rang out.

  Tate was fast. Unlike anything she had ever seen. He returned fire within a second of the first bullet and took down one of the perps.

  He fired up the engine and they peeled out of the parking lot. Another few seconds and they were gone.

  “Are you okay? You hit?”

  “No, no I’m fine. But what the hell was that?”

  “I’m not sure, but we better call Rafe,” Tate pushed the button for the sat phone and within seconds they were connected.

  “Wassup?,” Liam was always clowning around.

  “This is Tate. An attempt was made. I got one of them.”

  “For real? Damn! Alright, you know what to do! I’ll alert the others.”

  “Copy that.”

  “What was that? Tate?”

  “Listen, you know how Rafe operates. He’s had his ear to the ground ever since that business Christmas Eve with Skoll. From what we’ve uncovered you are central to a plot to force Rafe’s hand.”

  “What the heck? Why didn’t you guys tell me this?”

  “It doesn’t matter now does it? We have to go somewhere safe for a few days.”

  “Why not back to the Manor? The place is a fortress.”

  “No, the place is a fortress and as of two minutes ago it has been completely locked down. No one in or out, including us.”

  Cat paused for a moment and let that sink in. Her home was off limits and she was being hunted. Her Wolf snarled in her mind’s eye, unused to being prey. Cat refocused.

  “Where will we go?,” she had no doubt that if anyone could help her get though this it was Tate. Personal issues aside, he was a steady and capable Wolf. Rafe trusted him. If she was being honest she’d admit that she trusted him too. His deep voice broke through her reverie and she turned ice blue eyes to meet his.

  “Some place safe.”

  CHAPTER 6

  They drove for what seemed like hours. Across back roads and little used truck routes. In reality they had travelled for a little bit more than an hour when Tate parked the SUV in what looked like a stand of trees.

  It was actually a covered garage hidden in the woods off one of the many forgotten roads that cut across that part of the state. Tall Trees and a clever paint job hid the building from view. Cat was glad that they had stopped.

  A knot was forming in her stomach and she was getting antsy. Werewolves didn’t usually like to be cooped up and the SUV was beginning to feel cramped. Maybe it was Tate’s dominance silently warring with her own. Maybe it was pent up sexual frustration from years earlier. Nope, she was not going to touch that thought. She waited for Tate to speak.

  “On the wall you’ll find a couple of backpacks, inside of them should be some provisions, ammo, first aid, that type of thing.”

  “You mean we’re leaving? Why can’t we just stay here?”

  “You know better than that. We could’ve been followed. This place is close to the main road. If the men working for Skoll are half way decent they will find us by nightfall. So, grab anything else you need from the car and let’s go.”

  “Fine. Geez,” Cat didn’t much like the way he reprimanded her. She did know better, but momentary panic made her speak without thinking.

  “Damn, you didn’t wear a coat, huh? There are a few extras hanging up next to the bags. Put one on.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Humor me, okay?”

  Cat’s blue eyes narrowed as she watched Tate stuff more ammo into his backpack. He added a choice selection of knives, guns, and other weapons, stuffing them in pockets and belts around his person. The black backpack he held was bulging to the limit by the time he had finished.

  “Better safe than sorry I guess,” Tate grunted his reply. Was that a smile? She couldn’t be sure. He rarely smiled and his head was facing the wrong way for her to make that determination.

  Cat took a deep breath. She knew the Pack had safe houses all over the state, but she had never actually seen one. The prospect peeked her interest and she switched into work mode.

  Okay, Cat, game on. Her police training kicked in as she opened the back door of the SUV. She put the box of vanilla crisp protein bars that she had just bought into the backpack Tate had told her to grab.

  It was already heavy with supplies that he or someone must have pre-packed and left there hanging on a large metal hook that was screwed into the scarred wall. She smelled Werewolf and recognized that this was place was used by Pack members.

  She smelled a few different Wolves, but the scent that hit her as the freshest belonged to Tate. Her trust in his ability to get them safe allowed her to set aside her natural instinct to quarrel and obey his orders.

  She rummaged through her shopping bag and added a box of her favorite cinnamon toothpaste and a travel sized bottle of hand cream. She waited until she knew he was looking at her and then she grabbed the pack of AA batteries and put them inside the bag.

  Cat managed to remain straight faced even when Tate raised both eyebrows. He was rarely surprised and she silently congratulated herself on her ability to shock. She closed the zipper with added oomph and turned her head flipping her blonde hair to the side.

  The camouflage hunting jacket she donned was a little too big for her despite her above average height. Cat didn’t care. It was warm and the lining was soft. Th
e outer shell was black which was good for camouflage and it was waterproof too.

  That would come in handy if the weather turned ugly as it had all winter. And Tate had already predicted an ice storm earlier. He had a knack for telling the weather. Maybe it was old Lenape trick. She wasn’t sure and he rarely spoke of his native heritage.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled in an effort to focus her thoughts. Well, crap, that isn’t gonna work.

  Tate’s scent was imbued in the fabric of her borrowed coat. Pine trees and snow. Sand and sun. Only Tate’s scent could be so contrary and so near perfect, she thought.

  Cat’s Wolf purred in her mind’s eye. She had never heard of a Wolf that purred before. No one had until the night of her first Change. She had just caught her very first rabbit, a small gray one, and her medium sized buff colored Wolf purred her contentment.

  Rafe told her it must be her name that caused her Wolf to make such an un-wolf like sound. Whatever the reason, Cat couldn’t seem to help it.

  “Well, if you can’t help it, own it,” those were her brother’s words to her after that night.

  And she did. As far as she knew no other Wolf purred. Just her. Right then she was glad that only she heard her Wolf inside her head.

  Scent was important to Werewolves and Tate’s scent just about drove her wild. She resisted the urge to bury her nose in the collar, but not without some serious effort on her part.

  “So, you come here a lot then?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Well, then you know where we’re going.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Well?”

  “My cabin,” he answered without looking at her though Cat had the distinct impression he knew the exact expression she wore. The slightly raised corner of his lips told her that much. Great. She amused him.

  “Your cabin?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perfect, just perfect. Don’t you think they can find a vacation spot?”

  “It’s completely off the grid.”

  “Meaning what exactly?”

  “There are times when my duties as Wolf Guard get to be a lot. Whenever I feel like that I try to get in touch with nature and the elements without all the traps of modern technology.”

  “I’ve never heard you mention it,” cat’s curiosity was piqued. She thought she knew everything about the man in front of her.

  “That’s because I don’t talk about it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Cause then people ask questions. They don’t understand why anyone would want to live without WIFI I guess”

  “Oh.”

  “What? Don’t tell me you’re panicking?”

  “Of course not, I-”

  “I suppose to a modern girl like you it seems impossible to survive a few days without social media.”

  “I can last more than you can! Besides you’re the one with the twitter account!”

  “How’d you know that?”

  Cat gave him a scathing look and headed for the door. She knew he was goading her, but she always rose to the bait. Maybe it was a throwback to when she was a kid. Always in competition with the boys.

  Anyway she didn’t care. She was every bit as tough and as strong as Tate or any of them! She’d show him.

  By the fourth hour of their hike through the semi-frozen pine forests of South Jersey, Cat was beginning to lose her patience. Tate was quiet as ever and focused on wherever the heck they were going.

  Most Werewolves had a great sense of direction. There was some innate knowledge of your whereabouts that was amplified after the Change. After covering miles and miles of ground in rapidly decreasing temperatures, Cat was beginning to question hers.

  She was absolutely positive they were going around in circles. The sounds and smells surrounding her told her so. Didn’t they pass that same sun-bleached red cedar at least three times? Maybe Tate was losing it, she thought. But even in her mind that didn’t ring true. He was, to put it simply, the most talented Werewolf tracker she had ever seen.

  Cat was ready to burst from wanting to scream at him when suddenly, he lifted a hand. With two long fingers he signaled her forward, toward a stand of short pines.

  The air felt thicker as she neared them. Her Wolf recognized magic. It was similar to the type of magic that bound each Werewolf together within a Pack. The Alpha’s connection to the Pack was always the strongest and so on and so forth according to rank and dominance.

  This felt slightly different. It seemed to come from the earth itself as opposed to any one being. Cat tensed. The human half of her didn’t exactly trust magic. Except for her beautician. Sherry was simply a marvel when it came to Werewolf skin and hair care. Not to mention nails.

  Tate turned his head, a question in his dark eyes. He was at least ten feet ahead of her. She had stopped the second she sensed the magic. Before she could speak he held his right hand to his lips and motioned for her to follow him.

  Whatever her objections, Cat swallowed them. She was used to being independent, but in this situation she was the less dominant Wolf. Plus, she trusted Tate to lead her to safety. It was as simple as that.

  The rocky path was covered in snow and ice. She frowned as she circumnavigated her way over tree roots and slick rocks. This winter was by far the coldest she had ever seen.

  The weather had turned nasty early that fall. And that was after a summer with daily temperatures in the high nineties. It had gone from one constant heat wave to unseasonably bitter weather almost overnight.

  The reason for that wasn’t global warming, cow flatulence, or holes in the ozone layer. It was dark magic and the evil that came with it. After a nasty battle just weeks ago, one that Cat had participated in, the dark Witches’ forces had been cut down. Only now was the temperature beginning to normalize. But even so, January in New Jersey was still cold.

  Cat was grateful for the borrowed coat and the fact that her boots had thick rubber soles. She silently applauded her footwear choice. It was a good thing she didn’t go in for flimsy footwear. Stiletto heeled boots and the like. Being a cop made her shy away from the impractical. Besides she was taller than most men she knew and didn’t need heels.

  They rounded a steep bend that was covered on either side with oaks and pines. Icicles hung from the lower branches and muddy snow covered the ground. She watched the path and kept her footing sure and steady. She raised her eyes when Then she saw it. Tate’s cabin.

  It was tucked away in the back of a ridge. Huge pines, oaks, and beeches surrounded it. Cat’s eyes were big as saucers. This is not what she had expected at all.

  It was a log cabin, but not the kind of run down little shack she had anticipated. This structure was huge and had multiple levels.

  The first floor had an arched walkway and a slanted roof. Icicles and snow hung from the gutters and windows and reminded Cat of the frosting on a gingerbread house. But that was the only resemblance.

  The cabin was in no way girly or childlike. It was powerful and solid and yet, it seemed to flow into the land and not take anything away from the natural beauty of the surrounding woods. Cat admired the thorough planning that went into building it and wondered who his architect was.

  She followed Tate up the walkway. He purposely left large rocks and tree roots in the path. It made for a more natural setting and discouraged visitors. She smiled as she carefully stepped where he did. Tate always had an odd sense of humor.

  He moved with the practiced ease of someone who knew their way well. Cat counted the times she would have slipped if she didn’t have Werewolf reflexes. Thirteen. Her lucky number.

  She marveled at the beauty of her home state. Leave it to Tate to find the most perfect section of the woods and claim it for himself. As if the area wasn’t beautiful enough, Cat’s breath left her when she got a glimpse of the enormous entryway door. It was absolutely stunning.

  The wood matched the round logs that made up the walls. The difference was in the scene that was carv
ed into it. A huge Werewolf, head thrown back in an eternal howl at an invisible moon. The Wolf looked familiar, but surely her eyes were mistaken.

  At the very least, she recognized his handiwork. Tate was a master wood carver and was in fact responsible for the aged wizard that sat in the middle of the Manor garden where an old oak had fallen three winters ago after being struck by lightning. She walked through the mini-botanical garden often just to catch a glimpse of it.

  “Inside,” the softly spoken word interrupted her thoughts. She was embarrassed to see he’d been standing with the door open for at least a minute.

  Get your head on straight, girl, she thought to herself. The sight that greeted her next was almost better than the door. Inside the log cabin was huge. There were multiple floors visible from the large octagonal living room area. Exposed ceiling beams made the room feel airy and bright despite the fact that it was already night.

  The upper floors had wide glass windows with shutters instead of blinds or curtains. Bulletproof, she guessed. There was both a fireplace and an old fashioned wood stove. It was breathtaking in its complex yet utterly rustic design.

  “How long have you had this place?,” Cat didn’t even bother trying to hide her astonishment.

  “Huh, oh, I started building ten years ago.”

  “You built this? Like with your own two hands.”

  “Most of it, yes.”

  “Wow. Some hands you got there,” she said in low voice, but not low enough.

  “You have no idea,” his answer surprised her, but she played it off. Maybe she was cold and her brain was indulging in some sort of hallucination because to her ears it sounded like Tate was flirting with her.

  She dropped her backpack and pulled off her damp jacket. Well, his jacket, she hung it up on a hook near the door Fifteen minutes later she was convinced it was a hallucination after all. Tate was all business, starting the generator, lighting a fire, and securing all the windows and doors.