“I’ve got lemonade if you’re staying,” Westley offered. He kept his focus on Tom and ignored the way Cody stared at his garden, no doubt thinking about what he saw as the ridiculous lengths Westley took to keep rabbits off his vegetables when he could just eat them. Fortunately, Cody never showed more interest than this. If he had any curiosity about Westley’s herb garden, Westley would have cause to worry.
“We won’t be long,” Cody said, turning back to face him. “This is an unofficial stop. Just wanted to let you know that Ed and Leslie Hooper are dead.”
“Cody!” Tom said. “Don’t tell him like that. Have some sensitivity.”
“What?” Westley leaned heavy on the wooden banister. It dug into his back. “Was it a... What happened?” For Ed, Westley would have guessed heart attack. He couldn’t live off red meat forever. But Leslie was sixteen and fit as a fiddle.
“Best we can tell they were stabbed.”
“What?” Westley repeated. He felt hands on his shoulders and glanced up to see Tom steadying him. “Thanks.” He let Tom help him sit down on the top step leading up to the porch. “What are you talking about?”
“It was Austin who found them. He shifted last night, and he was attacked.”
“What?”
“The guy who did also murdered Ed and Leslie,” Cody said. He used his professional “Just the facts, ma’am” tone. It annoyed Westley every time.
“How do you know?”
“Because he thought Austin was dead. He dropped him into a grave with them,” Tom said.
“Did he know who it was?”
“No. He’s not a hundred percent when he’s a wolf, you know, and with his injuries... well, he climbed out of the grave and a few hours later Cyrus found him wandering around the motel naked with his gut slashed. He’s in the hospital now.”
“Oh my God,” Westley said. “I was... I was upset with him today for standing me up. Oh my God.”
“It’s not your fault,” Tom said. He squeezed Westley’s shoulder. There there. Calm the hysterical omega. Westley shrugged him off as he struggled not to cry.
“Do you know where they were killed?” Leslie. Shit. He’d babysat her.
“Ed’s wife said they were at the Curlicue, so we assume there,” Cody said. So that was why Mark and the other not-Austin guy had been looking around this morning.
“You saw?” Westley asked.
“I didn’t go,” Cody admitted. “But from what I hear, the blood was ankle deep.” His voice took on the excited cadence of the teenager he used to be, the kid who cheated off Westley’s math tests and flirted with Westley’s mother.
“Actually, the place was clean as a whistle,” Tom said. Westley glanced at Tom, checking his reaction. Tom’s face was perfectly blank. As the son and presumed heir to pack leadership, he was practiced at hiding his thoughts.
“What about the bodies? Were they—?”
“Wolfed?” Cody asked. “We pulled them out of a grave, West. Hard to tell what was wolf and what was mud.”
The more Cody talked, the more Westley’s stomach turned. “You think this sicko who did it is a—”
“There’s a council meeting tonight before sundown.” Tom jumped in before Westley could voice his fear. “That’s why we stopped by. Everyone needs to be there.” The “even you” remained unspoken.
“Okay,” Westley said. He tucked his hands against his stomach to stop them from shaking.
“We can pick you up,” Cody said. “So you don’t chicken out.”
Westley knew he should raise his head, meet Cody’s attention with a glare, but Cody had him and they both knew it. “Fine,” he bit out. “But not in that.” He pointed at the patrol car.
“Geez,” Cody said. “If you’re going to be a baby about riding in the back—”
“Trapped in the back,” Westley snapped, still focused on the ground. “Which wasn’t funny.”
“Cody, leave him alone,” Tom said. “We’ll bring a different car.” He stepped back from the porch. A second later, Westley sensed Cody departing as well. He glanced up to see Cody staring at him. Cody maintained eye contact and spat on the ground.
“We’ll see you around six,” Tom said, raising his voice slightly even though it carried fine. Westley raised his hand in a half-hearted wave. Tom turned to Cody. “Get in the damn car.”
With an insouciant grin, Cody obeyed.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN HE WALKED in, there were a few friendly smiles from people he knew well, but overall the reception was markedly unpleasant. Westley stared straight ahead and ignored the elbow nudges and pointed nods in his direction as the were population of La Mer-sur-Plaines noticed his attendance at a council meeting. He sat buffeted between Tom and Cody, hands in his lap, fighting to keep his panic down. He could smell it. Hell, everyone in the room could. Terrified omega. See what refusing a mate gets you, kids? Freak of nature, living alone, acting like an alpha, screwing around with alphas, leading them on... Thank God Tom was his best friend and strong enough that he didn’t give a shit about the unspoken thoughts behind their glares. Anyone else, and he’d have been force-mated years ago. He’d seen his parents. His mother had smiled at him. His father had pretended not to see him.
Outside the church’s auditorium, a cheerful sign read, “Wolves Baseball Team Meeting & Potluck!! 5-8 PM.”
Yep, the cover for a werewolf coven was a fucking baseball team that happened to have fifty members. Despite the number, it was either the hardest or the easiest team to get on, depending on your were status. They played too, in human form, and swept the league every year.
Tom’s father stepped to the podium and took a moment to arrange his notes. Thomas Ward, Sr. was as far from the spitting image of his son as a father could be. People asked all the time if Tom was adopted, looking from the 6’8 inch boy to his 5’10 inch father, from dark brown hair, full lips and wide grin to balding strands of blond hair, thin lips and an expression of paternal amusement. “He takes after his mother,” Thomas would say, and Tom would add, in his calm, carefree way, “I get my personality from Dad.”
Thomas cleared his throat. “I come today with sad news. Some of you may have already heard. The bodies of Ed and Leslie Hooper were found in the early hours this morning. As yet, we don’t have any suspects or motive.”
“Are we looking at a hunter?” someone in the audience asked.
“Could be a hunter. Could be someone who hated coffee. We don’t want to jump to conclusions.”
“I believe I can shed some light on that.” A man Westley had never seen rose from the back of the room and made his way, uninvited, toward the podium. He wore a faded jean jacket over a blue working man’s shirt and scruffed jeans. It was a cacophony of blue. His black and silver hair rose in spiky waves from the top of his head to the nape of his neck. His unshaven square jaw sported the same salt and pepper in his stubble. As he passed, row by row, snarling rose all around him. He walked with a quiet, unconcerned smile.
“And you are?” Thomas asked, holding to the podium as if the man would take it from him.
“The Alpha,” the man said.
“I’m the alpha here.”
In a move so fast Westley didn’t see it, the man sent Thomas flying. “Capital A,” he said. “And don’t worry, I’m only passing through.” He addressed Thomas on the floor before casting his gaze over the fidgeting, angry crowd. “Unless something happens to make me doubt your loyalty.”
“Who is he?” Westley whispered in the hubbub that followed. “What’s the Alpha?”
“Didn’t your parents teach you anything?” Cody whispered back.
“They told me to behave or the Alpha would eat me.”
“Exactly. He’s the ultimate, man. The big wolf kahuna.”
“He’s real??” Westley swallowed the urge to shout as his eyes bugged. Alpha stories put that boogeyman shit his schoolyard friends repeated to shame. Westley, in knee pants, had recited the darkest of them to his circle of frie
nds, relishing how in the bright sun of recess they cried and shrieked and begged him to stop. It made him feel that much better for having sobbed himself to sleep in the scary dark. Out the window the Alpha could be watching and waiting to eat a little wolf pup who hadn’t properly brushed his teeth. Of course he’d hugged his friends and reassured them, taking them into his small arms like a little mother hen, like a “good omega” should. “It’s only stories.” But he’d been trying to convince himself too, and now it seemed he’d done that without reason. Because there He stood.
“Oh my God, this is so cool.” Cody looked thrilled.
“If he’s so great, where’s his pack?” Tom asked.
Cody stared. “He’s the Lone Wolf. His pack is every wolf and no wolf.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means your dad better toe the line or he’s—” Cody made a slicing motion across his throat as Tom paled.
Thomas Senior gained his feet. “Welcome.” Then, through his clenched jaw, “Alpha.”
“Thank you.” The Alpha shunned the podium and instead addressed the audience from in front of it. His voice carried without a microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, there is a pest in our midst. Photos are being distributed now.”
At that second, everyone’s cell phones buzzed with messages.
Westley stared down at the picture of Jaylen glaring up at him. He glanced at Tom and Cody as they looked at the same photo on their phones. This couldn’t be right. The person in the picture, he was pure hate. That wasn’t Jaylen. Not Westley’s Jaylen. This had to be a mistake. Westley stood up, ready to let him know, but the Alpha spoke again.
“His name is Jaylen DeWallis. I ripped his family’s intestines free of their confines. Ever since, he has been a thorn in my side. I no longer find this amusing. The time has come to kill him. Any volunteers?”
He’d killed Jaylen’s family? Westley opened his mouth as the Alpha turned to him and grinned. He felt everyone staring. “I—”
“An omega?” Rather than mock him or ask if Westley was sure he understood what the conversation was about, the Alpha looked delighted. “Well, you certainly do things differently around here.”
“Not that differently,” someone yelled, followed by another person shouting, “Sit down, sweetheart!”
“I—” Westley said. The Alpha ate naughty cubs, not to keep immortal or youthful, but simply because he liked how they crunched. He tried to form the words he wanted. I think you’re wrong.
“Sit down, son,” the Alpha said. “You might be ready to go to battle, but I’m not ready to face the mother of an omega I’ve let get killed.
“I—” Westley faced the Alpha, on the verge of collapsing from fear. The Alpha was a wolf first and became human after he’d swallowed the blood of a thousand. If he did this, he could save Jaylen. Everything would work out fine. The Alpha kept his awareness in both his forms so he could recall and savor every kill. He had to protect Jaylen until the misunderstanding was unraveled. “I—” he swallowed.
“Now.”
The Alpha could shift regardless of the moon. Westley sat.
“Any serious volunteers?”
“I volunteer.” Cody stood up, as did Tom and a few others, both men and women, all alphas. Westley clenched down on the bile rising in his throat. I volunteer. But he didn’t say it.
Then, from the back, “Me.”
Everyone turned, and there was Austin, dressed in jeans and a hospital gown. He looked like he’d had a run in with an angry lawn mower, but he was on his feet, glowering, long hair dirt-streaked and hanging over a fresh wound that ran from his eye to his mouth.
“Thank you,” the Alpha said, speaking over the crowd and directly to Austin. “I accept your services.” Westley tried not to panic. The stories his parents had seared into his brain tumbled through it. The Alpha, the Alpha, the Alpha... wants you to die.
He would find a way to protect Jaylen, to protect all of them.
TOO LONG DENTON had stayed one step ahead of him, but now he was here, and—Jaylen tossed a freshly cleaned and sharpened knife next to the others on the towel he’d spread over the bed—Jaylen was ready. He needed to find Denton, do the job, and ditch town. The wolf he’d killed the night before might have been more sensitive to Denton’s presence than the rest and shifted early. The closer they got to the full moon, the more likely that was to happen again. The last thing Jaylen needed was a damn wolf army nipping at his heels.
On the dresser, his phone rang. He grabbed it up as soon as he saw the caller ID. “Danni, you old witch, how the hell are ya?”
“Not too bad, you cold-hearted bastard.” Danni’s cheerful voice answered back. “What’s the what?”
He picked up another knife and started making it shine. “I found him.”
Silence from her end, broken by an excited gasp. “You’re serious.”
Jaylen resisted the urge to do a little jig on the tan carpeting. “Ninety-nine percent. All the signs are here.”
“Indications of early cycle, tempers on a rise....”
“Yup.”
“Uptake in murders around town.”
Jaylen remained innocently silent.
“That you didn’t cause,” she added.
“I’m cutting back on the drug, Danni,” he said, clearing his throat. “Hardly need the stuff now with all the wolf hormone in the air.”
“Be careful, Jaylen. You’ll let me know if you need more? I can ground roots up and ship them to you. I don’t imagine you’ve got access to a secret stash in Bumfuck.”
“Actually, I met a guy who gardens.” He tossed the freshly sharpened knife down.
“Carrots and rutabaga aren’t quite the same thing.”
“He might have that, but he’s into herbal shit too. Today at breakfast somebody thanked him for helping her kid’s upset stomach.”
“Breakfast?” Her tone took on an “ooooh” uptick.
“I was scoping out the...” He hesitated. Danni wasn’t big on hearing the details of what he did. “...uh, the local cobbler selection and he walked in.”
“And you hit it off immediately,” she said, unsurprised. Danni thought Jaylen took his dick for a ride every chance he got. Probably because it was true. Sometimes for cash (a guy’s gotta live), but most of the time for the hell of it.
“You’d like him,” he said, feeling cheerful. “And if you ever meet him, hands off.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She dismissed him with goodnatured ease. “So, you’re good on the magic wolf detecting potion for now?”
“I’m good for now. I’ll swing by after I’m done for a visit.”
“You’ll ‘swing by’? What, sixteen hundred miles?”
He “hmmed,” a vocal shrug. “After this is done, I’m going to want a drive.”
“Fair enough. But be warned, I’m going to give you the biggest hug you’ve ever had.”
“You bet— Hold on.” Jaylen looked up when he heard a knock on the door. He scanned down his mental list of knock types. The solid rap-rap of a pay-by-the-day landlord looking for rent, the tap-tap of friends visiting (or, in most cases for Jaylen, a salesman pretending to be a friend), the frantic bang of someone scared out of their minds (usually joined by screaming). This was a hesitant tap, followed by another. He grabbed his favorite knife and looked out the peephole.
Westley stood on the other side of it. He rocked back on his heels and blew his hair out of his face. It landed back in the same place, right over his eyes. “Gotta go, Danni.” Jaylen clicked off before she could respond. After slipping the knife into his ankle sheath, he opened the door partway and wedged into the space he’d made, aiming for “casually aloof” over “I don’t want you to see the arsenal on my bed.”
“Westley!” His voice pitched up in a squeak. He winced. Maybe his balls had receded from embarrassment too. “How’d you know I was staying here?”
“No place else to stay. It’s La Mer Inn or bust for a thirty mile
radius.”
“Oh.” Jaylen couldn’t argue that.
“So—” Westley rocked again.
“So...?” Jaylen said.
“Pizza?” Jaylen asked, at the same time Westley blurted, “Want to go to my place and fuck?”
Westley blushed. “Um. I could do pizza—”
“Your idea.” Jaylen reached behind him without looking and fumbled around until he got a hand on his jacket. He stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him. “Let’s do your thing.” Shit, maybe Jaylen had misjudged Westley’s shyness.
Westley gestured to his truck as if it were a prize on a game show. “Your chariot, sir.”
“Nice.” Jaylen gave the black 4x4 Dodge an appreciative whistle. “But I’d prefer taking my own car.”
Westley fidgeted. He looked uncomfortable with the idea of Jaylen driving himself. “I don’t mind—”
“Westley, are you a serial killer?”
“No!”
Jaylen gave him a half-smirk. “So, you don’t need to make me disappear without a trace?”
A longer pause before Westley denied this. Jaylen pinned it to embarrassment, since he was bright red.
“Then I’m taking my own car.”
“But, but, but,” Westley spluttered. “It’s not right for you to drive yourself!”
What? “Westley. This is not 1950 and I am not wearing bobby socks. Now come on. I’ll follow you home.” He hoped Westley wouldn’t suggest that they fuck in Jaylen’s room instead. He’d need more than a minute to make the place respectable in that “I’m not a serial killer, honest,” kind of way.
“Okay.” Westley seemed to find some resolve with Jaylen’s standing up for his right to drive his damn self, but he didn’t look happy about it. He fumbled for his car handle. “Stay close, all right? I live way out in the country.” His expression turned sheepish. “Not that you have to go far to qualify for that around here.”
“Will do.” Jaylen grinned and swung himself into his own car. He revved it up and followed Westley out.
WESTLEY KEPT BOTH hands on the wheel and tapped it with his pinky fingers for most of the drive. He kept a close eye on the rear view mirror to make sure Jaylen stayed with him. Jaylen’s cream-colored VW bug bounced along behind. Maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea to bring Jaylen to his house, but it was the safest place he could think of to hide him. Everyone would be staking out the motel tonight. He wished Jaylen would have left his car behind. It would throw them off. They’d assume he’d stayed in. And, with Denton’s acting like Westley needed to stay home and practice his knitting (not that there was anything shameful in that; he happened to be quite skilled), the focus on finding Jaylen would keep his friends who might normally stop by out of his hair.
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