by Amy Green
“I have a daughter,” Carson said, surprising Brody again. “She’s fourteen.” Carson was at least fifty, and had never been married that Brody knew of. There was certainly no scent of a woman in this house. “Her mother and I… It’s complicated,” Carson explained. “Laura barely knows me. The money isn’t for me—I’m dead anyway. It’s for her. That’s why I was dealing the drugs—money for her before I die. But the cops took everything. Set her up for life, Donovan, and I’ll shut up. I’ll say it was all a mistake. The cops will never hear a word from me again.”
Brody hesitated. Was this a lie? He wouldn’t put it past Carson, but it didn’t seem like it. He didn’t feel the usual tension you could feel when a human was lying.
“Laura Willcreek,” Carson said, following his train of thought again. “She lives at 2321 Fraser Avenue in Boulder with her mother, Theresa Bailey. My former housekeeper.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Couldn’t keep it in my pants, Brody, unlike you. But now that I’m dying, I can’t say I regret it.”
“All of this money, this huge house, and you can’t fucking support her?” Brody said.
“The house is underwater,” Carson said. “Everything is credit cards and lies. I have nothing. And she’s smart.” His voice cracked. “She’s so fucking smart. I want her to go to college, get a Ph.D. Do anything she wants. Make something of her life, unlike me.”
“I’ve got no guarantee from you,” Brody said. “You’re blackmailing me, Dunne. Blackmailing the pack. I give you money, you just ask for more and more. Is that how it will go?”
Carson opened his mouth to answer, but didn’t speak. Downstairs, there was a crash.
“Police!” a voice shouted. “Drop your weapons and surrender!” Heavy footsteps approached the stairs.
“Sorry,” Carson said, his voice cold. “Didn’t they tell you I was under house arrest? The cops have been watching this place twenty-four seven. Looks like we’re done.”
For a second, Brody stared at Carson. Fuck, he thought. It was now or never. He could just put his hands on Carson’s jaw, jerk it exactly the right way, snap his neck, and all of this would be over before that cop climbed the stairs.
Do it, his wolf said.
“Do it,” Carson whispered.
He raised his hand, positioned it.
No, Alison said.
And the moment passed.
“Let him go!” The cop was at the top of the stairs now, in the hallway with them. Brody turned his head and saw a man of about twenty, in uniform, his gun out and aimed at Brody. “Let him go and stand back!” he said. “Hands behind your head! On your knees!”
“Officer,” Carson shouted. “He’s a werewolf!”
Brody let Carson go and stood back. More cops came up the steps, and he could hear motors outside, voices.
Run, his wolf said. You are an alpha. Kill them all if you have to. Run.
Brody put his hands up, locked them behind his head.
Carson had pushed himself away from the wall. “You can’t shoot him,” he said to the cop, his voice an exasperated snarl. “Do you understand? He won’t die.”
“On your knees!” the cop shouted.
Brody stayed still.
“Son of a bitch,” Carson said. “What a bunch of fools.” He shouted louder to the cop. “He’s playing with you. He’s playing with all of you. You can’t kill him, you idiots. You don’t know how.”
“Sir,” the cop said, “please stand back and put your hands behind your head.”
“It’s you or me, Carson,” Brody said from where he stood, his voice soft. “Which of us is it going to be?”
“You got my money?” Carson said.
“I can get it.”
“Then fuck it,” Carson said. He stepped forward, wrested the gun from the cop’s hand, cocked it. “Get him in the eye socket,” he said to the cop. “He might not die, but he’ll be plenty fucked.” He turned and aimed the gun at Brody.
There was a single shot, and Carson fell.
A second cop came up behind the first one, aiming his gun at Brody now. “On your knees,” he said in a shaky voice.
Brody looked at the body on the floor. Then he slowly got to his knees.
It was over.
16
Brody wasn’t at his house. No one had seen him. He wasn’t answering his phone. He’d vanished.
Alison got reports over the phone as she drove home from Pierce Point. She also got a phone call from Quinn Tucker, who told her about the conversation he’d had with Brody. She was so frustrated when he finished talking that she banged the steering wheel with her fist as she drove. “You should have stopped him!” she shouted.
“Should I?” was Quinn’s answer. “I should have stopped an alpha? My alpha? Questioned his decision? You know that’s not how it works.”
It was infuriating, but he was right—that wasn’t how it worked. There was nothing Quinn could have done to stop Brody if he was determined. There was, probably, nothing that even his brothers could have done.
Besides, none of them knew the reason Brody was doing this. They didn’t know about Charlie’s plan, about the war. They didn’t know the sacrifice Brody was apparently determined to make.
But Alison knew. She could have stopped him. As his mate, she could have—her, and only her. If she’d been here.
By the time she got to the house, everyone was there—Devon and Nadine, Heath and Tessa, Ian and Anna. They’d all scoured town for Brody with no success.
By the time she pulled into the long drive of the beautiful house she’d coveted for so long, Alison felt like a soggy mess of emotions. Fear. Worry. Anger at Brody for vanishing. Anger at herself for leaving the Falls in the first place. Anger at Brody’s brothers for losing track of him so easily. He’s made so many sacrifices for you. Things you can’t even imagine. You couldn’t look out for him just this once?
But they didn’t know, because Brody—stubborn, tortured Brody—had never told them. She had the feeling she was going to have to change that.
He’d hate it if she told his secrets. But with what she knew, she didn’t see a choice.
Suddenly tired, she got out of the car and pulled her small suitcase with her. She’d picked up her things and checked out of her motel in Pierce Point. Her one-day stint as a fake reporter was over.
The house didn’t feel right without Brody in it. It was the same front hall, the same furniture, the same big windows looking out to the woods, but it was all wrong. This was Brody’s place—and her place, too, she realized. She thought of this as home; she’d almost completely forgotten the small house she rented near her parents. When all of this was over and she had Brody back, she’d let that place go and make this officially home.
When all this is over and I have Brody back.
The others were in the living room, looking serious. They had been talking, but they all turned to her when she walked in. She dropped her suitcase to the floor. “We have to talk,” she said to them.
“What’s going on?” It was Ian who spoke first—restless, impatient Ian. “Where is he, Alison? Why do I get the feeling this is fucking serious?”
She looked at him. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt he’d thrown on, and his hair was mussed. “It’s fucking serious,” she said.
She felt the surprise in their silence. None of them had ever heard her swear before. Of course not, because she almost never did.
Heath stepped forward. Even he looked harried, without his usual don’t-give-a-damn attitude. The scruff on his jaw was darker than usual, and his gaze was intent on her. “Tell us,” he said.
Alison sighed, trying to pull it together. “I think I know where he is, though I can’t be sure. If I’m right, we need to stop him.”
“Where?” This was Devon, standing in the corner, the shadows falling over him, his arms crossed. Right now he looked nothing like the tamed wolf that was Nadine’s mate, and more like the wild wolf who had come into the Four Spot from time to time and made e
veryone nervous. “Just tell us, Alison. We need to know.”
He was right. They did. All three brothers were on edge, probably because their shifter senses could pick up on something very wrong with their alpha. This was pack work, and not something she could solve alone.
“I think he’s gone to see Carson Dunne,” Alison told them. “In Denver.”
There was another second of stunned silence. “Carson Dunne?” Ian said. “The doctor?”
“I thought he left town after Charlie died,” Anna said.
“He did.” Alison walked to one of the sofas and dropped down on it. “He’s come back, though—or come back to Denver. He was caught dealing drugs to his patients, and he’s getting the charges dropped in exchange for information.”
“What information?” Tessa asked.
Alison bit her lip and looked around the room at them. Brody’s brothers and their mates. Pack. Family. Her family, now. Her pack. They were all turned to her, listening.
I’m sorry, Brody, she said silently.
“Before Charlie died, he was making a plan,” she said. “He was going to invade Grant County, take it over. Turn it into pack territory.”
Nadine, who was Grant County’s former sheriff, stood up. “What?” she said in shock. “What are you talking about?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Alison said. “He was going to start a war with the humans. It was a war he could never have won, but that didn’t matter to him. He was going to start it anyway.”
Heath scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m surprised, and yet I’m not. That fucking old bastard. I didn’t know about this. Devon, did you?”
Devon shook his head. He and Heath were the two brothers who had lived in closest proximity to Charlie, though both had hated him just as much as the others had. “I never heard of this,” Devon said. “You better fucking believe I would have stopped him.”
“He knew you would. That all of you would. That’s why Charlie was planning to kill you first,” Alison said. “All four of you, and probably anyone else who stood in his way. Once you were all dead, he was going to do whatever he wanted, no matter what lives it cost.”
“Jesus,” Tessa said. She looked gray with shock. “He was actually going to do that?”
“Yes, he was,” Alison replied. “Carson Dunne knew about it. And Brody found out about the plan. Brody knew.” She took a breath. “That’s why Brody killed Charlie.”
The air was sucked out of the room. Anna made a little sound in her throat. Heath lowered himself to one of the sofas and put his head in his hands. Devon went unnaturally still.
“Fucking hell,” Ian said.
“My God,” Heath said into his hands as Tessa put a hand on his shoulder. “I fucking knew Charlie hadn’t just died like that. I fucking knew it. I just didn’t know…” He trailed off.
“He told you this?” Devon said from his corner. His arms were still crossed over his chest, but Alison could see how tense he was, as if he was afraid that if he moved he would break to pieces. “Brody confessed it to you?”
Alison nodded, and Devon looked away.
“So Carson Dunne must have helped him,” Ian said. He took a few strides, pacing, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “It was Carson’s report that said Charlie died of heart failure, or some such bullshit.”
Alison said, “Yes. Brody put an ice pick through Charlie’s skull.”
Even Ian flinched at that. “Holy hell,” Heath said.
She could understand that they were all shocked, but with every minute that ticked by, Alison drowned further and further in panic. “So you have to see,” she said, “that Carson Dunne coming back, and offering to make a deal with police—it’s a disaster.”
“You’re sure about this deal?” Tessa asked. “It isn’t just a rumor?”
“I learned about it from one of the reporters in Pierce Point,” Alison said. “He was running a story about it. And Quinn Tucker heard the same thing from a source inside the Denver police.”
“Quinn knew?” Devon said.
Alison shook her head. “He knew about the potential deal, yes. But he doesn’t know what information Carson was offering. He has no idea.”
“Makes sense,” Ian said bitterly. “There are thirty years of Charlie’s crimes to pick from. How would you know which one to choose?”
“It’s the war plan,” Alison said. “That was Carson’s big money offering. I only spent a day in Pierce Point, but I saw how they’re stirring the hysteria. The mayor could spin that into reelection—proof that shifters were planning to attack humans and take their homes. It doesn’t matter that the man who planned it is dead, because that man’s son now runs the same pack. It’s a slam dunk if you want to make people afraid of us. That’s what Carson is going to hand to them.” She looked around. “That’s why I think Brody went to Denver as soon as he heard about this deal from Quinn.”
“That’s it,” Heath said. He had lifted his head from his hands and was staring at Alison, his gaze clear now. “He’s trying to prevent a war with the humans. He’s gone to kill Carson Dunne.”
“We have to stop him,” Nadine said.
“Or help him,” Devon countered, earning a glare from his mate.
“No,” Alison said to Devon. “We’re not helping Brody kill anyone. Brody is done killing, do you understand?”
She surprised even herself that time, bossing around a werewolf twice her size. But Devon only nodded.
Alison looked at Heath and Ian next. “If any of you want to do your own killing, that’s your business. But Brody is my business. Charlie’s death has weighed on him ever since it happened, and I’m not letting this happen again. I’m going to Denver, and I’m leaving now.”
“One of us should come with you,” Ian said. “For safety.”
“Fine,” Alison said to him. “I’ll take you.”
He shrugged. “I’m in. Let’s go.”
“Nadine.” Alison turned to the police chief. “I need Carson Dunne’s address.”
“On it,” Nadine said.
Alison turned to Devon next. “I need you to change into a wolf and patrol the perimeter of the Falls. Look for anything unusual. Strangers, any kind of threat.”
“Sure,” Devon said.
“Heath and Tessa, you’re our eyes and ears in town. Get the word out through your network. No one talks to police who aren’t Nadine or Quinn, and no one talks to anyone about Charlie.” She looked at Heath’s expression. “What? What is it?”
He was watching her with a tinge of admiration through the shock he was obviously still feeling. “We’ve never had this happen before,” he said. “Our pack alpha is missing. Which leaves us without a leader.” He nodded. “You’re his mate. Which means that until we get him back, you’re our leader. Our alpha. It’s you.”
She stared at him in shock. “Me?”
“You,” Heath confirmed. “You’re his other half. That means that until he’s back, you’re him.” He smiled. “Only more pleasant to look at, of course.”
She had no chance to answer him, because there was a quick, urgent knock on the front door, and without waiting for an answer, Quinn Tucker came into the room. “We have a problem,” he said.
Alison’s heart sank. No, she thought. No.
“Carson Dunne is dead,” Quinn said. “Brody’s been arrested. He didn’t kill Carson, but he broke into Carson’s house, and they’ve taken him into custody. Brody’s in jail.”
17
He could have killed them all. His wolf was right about that.
The cop who arrested him. The others who marched him outside. He was in handcuffs, but that was no matter. With enough will, he could have broken them. He could have done it in the house, in the police cruiser, as they brought him into the jail and booked him. He could have rained death on every single one of them and run, and he would be miles away before any of the living had a chance to come after him.
But he’d had enough of killing. He supposed he’d
just proved that—to himself, to his wolf, to Alison. He didn’t know how an alpha wolf could lead his pack if he wasn’t prepared to kill, and he didn’t think he would get a chance to find out, because he might never see his pack again.
It didn’t matter to the human cops that he hadn’t killed Carson. That they were sending him to jail without a single charge laid. They didn’t even bother reading him his rights. You don’t have rights, shifter, one of the cops said when he asked. The only right you have is to sit in this cell and wait. So that’s what you’re going to do.
They put him alone in a cell, probably because they didn’t want to risk any of their other prisoners with him. Maybe they were right.
They didn’t give him a phone call or a lawyer. No one came to ask him questions or take a statement. They just sat him there a prisoner, and left him.
He closed his eyes while inside him, his wolf howled.
After hours, or days—there were no windows in here—he was brought food. He didn’t eat it. Hours or days later, they took it away and brought more. He didn’t eat that either. There were shouts in the corridor, men screaming, horrible smells, the sound of a man throwing up. He was truly in a cage now, unable to escape. He watched the guards pass by, one and then another, then back again. He watched the guard who brought him food. He could have snapped the man’s neck in the blink of an eye, the man’s bullets useless on him. He had a dozen opportunities to kill, but there was no point at the moment. No point to anything but waiting.
In the absence of any distractions, he sat with eyes closed and sent out mental feelers. Shifters didn’t have psychic powers—not even close—but mates and kin had a certain connection. If any of his brothers were dead, he would know. If Alison were dead, he would know. And he would also know if they were close. He wondered if they were coming for him.
Part of him didn’t want them to come. He didn’t want them to feel panic or grief, especially Alison. At the same time he wanted her near almost as much as he wanted his next breath. He hadn’t seen her in days now, hadn’t talked to her, had no idea where she was. It was torture, not seeing his mate, not touching her, especially this early. Fool, he told himself quietly. You are such a goddamned fool. You should have woken up years ago. At least then you’d have had time with her before this happened.