"I've already met Vixen. We spoke earlier!"
"Oh?" Silver sidled a glance toward Hannah. Of course, he'd been aware that she'd lifted his phone and called Ursula to track him down. He hadn't followed through on that train of thought, though, as to exactly what and how much had been said.
"We did." Hannah flashed a smug little smile and an immodest shrug. A secretive look passed between the two women.
"It's wonderful to meet you in person, dorogaya moya." Ursula swept the younger woman into an enthusiastic hug. She whispered something into Hannah's ear that set the fox-shifter to giggling.
Inexplicably, heat suffused Silver's face. Itchy embarrassment grew worse when the rest of the band transformed into hyenas—well, not literally—and succumbed to gales of laughter. He bit his tongue and endured in silence because anything he said could and would be used against him.
Disco called everyone to order. "Let's settle down. From the sound of it, the situation is a crisis."
A hush whooshed through the room and all eyes turned to Hannah, seeking an explanation. The fox-shifter tensed with the expression of someone who'd just been thrust into a spotlight. She glanced toward the door, no doubt contemplating escape again.
Silver cleared his throat. "Vixen and I first met earlier this evening. We were both trying to steal the same thing—the box—from Roman Malkin's estate—"
"Roman Malkin. The Roman Malkin?" Disco demanded in a voice charged with outrage. He lunged and grabbed hold of Silver's leather jacket. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you trying to get us all killed?"
"Back the fuck off," Silver said between clenched teeth. He shoved Disco away, but the other man hung on. Their wrestling match sent them veering across the room toward the entrance. Cheyenne hopped across a bed to get out of their way.
"Don't tell me. This is about you." Disco shoved Silver up against the wall. He snarled, baring his teeth. "Roman Malkin is a Russian oligarch, not some minor gangster. I can't believe you crossed the Iron Grizzly."
"Boys, enough already." Ursula grabbed hold of Disco's shoulders, hauled him off his feet, and carried him several paces before she set him down again.
Breathing hard, Silver stayed put against the wall. He respected Ursula too much to even think of lifting a finger against her. But aside from that, doing so would be monumentally stupid. The old woman's gray hair and short stature were deceptive. The bear was strong enough to take on the entire pack while bench pressing an extra ton or so.
"You should be more careful." Ursula leveled her finger at Silver.
"I'm sorry." Silver hung his head. It was like eating crow. Those sharp, brittle bones stuck in his throat. And oh, his pride smarted over being reprimanded in front of Hannah.
"Told you—" Disco said, smirking.
"And you..." With a rumble, Ursula swung around and pinned Disco with a wrathful stare. "You are too quick to judge and too harsh in your judgements. These are not admirable traits in one who holds your position. Your father would not approve of how you conducted yourself today."
Disco flushed. He dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry, Ursula."
Ursula nodded. Her gaze swung back and forth between the two men, ascertaining whether there'd be any further trouble. Finally, she gave a satisfied grunt, and said, "Iron Grizzly is gross exaggeration. Roman Malkin is Kodiak bear."
"Aren't Kodiaks bigger than grizzlies?" Branwen asked from her perch on the edge of the desktop. Everyone in the room had changed positions during the brief scuffle. Hannah sat beside Branwen. Cheyenne and Oz each had one of the two beds to themselves.
"Hush, solnyshko." Ursula smiled at Branwen, and then trudged over to the sole armchair. With a weary huff, she sank onto it. "Silver, please, explain to us what's going on."
"Sure..." Silver hesitated, gathering his thoughts. He glanced at Hannah, wishing she was closer, and found her looking at him. Their gazes snagged.
She arched one fine eyebrow at him in an unspoken challenge—a dare?
Silver took a deep breath. "Malkin had a party tonight for a private show of Riverdance—"
"Riverdance? Are you serious?" Oz chortled so hard he tipped over and damn near fell off the bed.
"Knock it off, you hyena." Branwen threw a hairbrush at Oz. It whizzed across the room and stuck his chest dead center.
"Because of all the traffic in and out of the main house, the ground floor security system was off. I went in over the fence, gained access to the library via a second-floor balcony. I expected to have to disable an alarm on the library entrance but when I got there, it was already off. Vixen was already there—"
"So you two weren't working together?" Branwen asked. "Just so we're clear..."
"Ah, no." Silver fidgeted. A sinking sensation filled his gut. He preferred to provide a concise account of what'd transpired, keeping it short and sweet, but clearly that wasn't going to happen.
"M'kay. What happened next?" Branwen crossed her arms over her breasts.
"Silver snuck up behind me," Hannah said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "He waited until I disabled the security system on the display case. Then he snatched the box and handcuffed me to the cabinet. I jerked my arm and the movement must've set off a motion detector built into the stand because the next thing I knew the alarms were blaring. Romeo here grabbed the goods and ran."
Hannah glared at him. Hell, his entire band stared at him with expressions that ranged from Ursula's disappointed frown to Oz's blank astonishment.
Branwen stuttered, "You just left her—trapped?"
Silver winced. Shit. He felt bad already, but his band's censure made it a million times worse. He was the worst sort of scum...a lowly slug in the muck. From the satisfaction on her face, Hannah derived a great deal of pleasure from seeing him taken down a few pegs. He noticed how she deliberately left out any mention of the kiss he'd stolen.
"I escaped by shifting to a fox," Hannah said, coming to his rescue. Maybe she decided he'd suffered enough. "I'd pickpocketed Silver's phone so I called and talked to Ursula..."
"It was a wonderful talk we had." Ursula chuckled.
Uneasy, Silver twitched. His instincts shouted he should run, but from what he had no idea.
"From there it was easy to track Silver down and steal the box back," Hannah concluded.
The band traded speculative glances, and knowing smirks followed. Everyone recognized the point where they'd entered the story, and it wasn't a mystery what'd happened between Silver and Vixen in the hotel room.
"What's so great about this bloody box that everyone's after?" Oz asked.
"I don't know. I didn't have time to open it." Silver shrugged and glanced at Hannah.
Thus far, no one in the band had inquired into his or Hannah's reasons for stealing the rune box. They probably wouldn't pry. As fellow thieves, they understood privacy and respected boundaries. Silver preferred to keep it that way. Better to evade any mention of how he'd gotten involved. Better to avoid any mention of Coyote or favors owed...
"I don't know either." Hannah shook her head. "And I never opened it. After I left here, I headed back to my apartment only to find it'd been trashed..." She hesitated.
"What happened next?" Silver asked to provide cover for her. He didn't want the others noticing her conspicuous lapse. He suspected her of lying or withholding information, but there were too many competing sensory details in the crowded room for him to be sure.
"I went back outside and ran straight into Balthazar's goons. They chased me around the building to where the Russian mafioso were waiting. Someone started shooting so I ducked behind the sedan." Hannah shrugged one shoulder. "Then you guys showed up."
"Who's Balthazar?" Disco asked.
"Balthazar's a small time gangster. His organization operates over on Sunset Boulevard. Gambling, paycheck loans, food stamp fraud. Supposedly, he works for Drakon Kholkikos..." Hannah rolled her shoulder to convey a degree of uncertainty.
"Drakon Kholkikos is scary as all fuck," Disco
said with clear misgivings.
"We won't be dealing with Kholkikos," Silver hastened to interrupt. If Disco backed out, the others would follow his lead. He needed his band's support to help Hannah.
Hannah met his gaze and picked up on his train of thought, because she said, "Balthazar's ties to Kholkikos are just a rumor."
"Okay, fine." Disco clicked his tongue to accentuate his dissatisfaction. "How does Balthazar tie into all this?"
"Balthazar forced me to steal the box," Hannah volunteered. "I was supposed to call him at midnight to let him know I had it, but I missed the check-in..."
"Is he human?" Silver rubbed a finger across the bridge of his nose. Both names struck him as familiar, although, they weren't ringing any bells. The mortal population of Los Angeles totaled in the millions. While shifters made up only a fraction of that, it still totaled out to an impressive number.
"Balthazar is a werewolf." Hannah grimaced.
Silence dropped. Werewolves spelled trouble. Big trouble. They were bigger, stronger, and tougher than coyotes, and wolves traveled in packs.
"Hold up a sec," Branwen burst out. She bounced on the rickety mattress with so much hyper energy that it squeaked beneath her. "I've known plenty of werewolves—"
"Yeah? When?" Disco asked.
Branwen ignored him and addressed her words to Hannah. "I can't even imagine a werewolf pack that'd tolerate one of their members behaving like you're describing. They're as pigheaded and stubborn as all hell but they're honorable to a fault."
"I don't know." Hannah shrugged and shook her head. "I haven't known any other wolves. Rumor has it Balthazar doesn't have a pack. I heard he's outcast from his own people."
"That does help. Thanks." Branwen tipped her chin.
"What does he have on you?" Silver asked. Intense anger burned inside him for the man who'd forced Hannah to steal for him. For the first time in his entire life, he wanted to kill someone. It shocked him to the core.
"My grandmother. He's taken her hostage. If I don't bring the box to him, he'll kill her." Her accusing gaze flickered to Silver.
He compressed his lips, biting back a growl. A wave of guilt threatened to drown him. Finally, he grasped the source of her distress. Her grandmother's life hung in the balance, and he'd made the situation worse for her. She'd missed her midnight check-in with Balthazar because of him.
Riled, the band stirred; angry murmurs passed through their ranks.
"How big is his organization?" Silver asked to get the conversation back on track. He'd also known wolf-shifters. They were hardheaded, opinionated jackasses, but upright for the most part.
Hannah hesitated and then spoke, "Balthazar has enforcers. The three guys who chased me around the building worked for him. A few of his people are shifters."
Disco nodded thoughtfully. "What kind of shifters?"
Hannah winced, delaying. Obviously uncomfortable, she shifted her stance. Disco scowled and pinned her with his gaze. Eventually, she muttered something indecipherable and then gave the answer he'd anticipated.
"Coyotes." Hannah's inflection alluded to distaste, though she clearly tried to hide it. Her shoulders hunched and she shot him a guilty glance.
Silence descended over the room. Knowing looks traded between the members of the band. Branwen shrugged, signaling she had no dog in the race. While Oz and Cheyenne were unperturbed, Disco frowned in apparent offense.
"How many?" Silver asked, struggling to keep his tone neutral while hurt and confusion warred for dominance. He could pretend not to care about her low opinion of his breed, but it was a lie. At the same time, her attitude baffled him. She hadn't acted like this in the first place, and if she hated coyotes so much, why had she hooked up with him in the first place? Of course, the obvious answer scalded his ego—she was horny; he was convenient. He meant nothing more to her than a quick fuck. No wonder she'd been in such a hurry to get away from him once they'd finished.
"Seven or eight. Their leader's name is Nick Nash. He's a fucking bastard," Hannah said in a voice brimming with bitterness. She was so caught up in her own emotional crisis; she didn't seem to pick up on his reaction.
"This is personal," Silver said with sudden, surprised insight. A gust of breath burst from him, relief and then unaccustomed shame. Around them, the others were conspicuously quiet. They hadn't missed how much he cared.
"Of course it's personal. That bastard ruined my life—" Hannah looked up, tears swimming in her bright green eyes, and her face slackened in realization. Self-conscious, she looked first at Silver, skimmed the others, and then averted her gaze.
Right then and there, Silver swore that Nick Nash and Balthazar—as well as anyone and everyone else who caused Hannah grief—were going to be made to pay dearly.
"Balthazar has a band of coyotes working for him and is holding your grandmother hostage." Silver picked up the conversation again to smooth over her conspicuous lapse. "And somehow Roman Malkin managed to figure out who you are and where you live. He wants his properly back. That's what we're up against."
"We?" Hannah said it as though it was a foreign word. She gnawed her lower lip and her green gaze flickered toward the door. He ached for how alone she must be to have no sense of community.
"We." Silver nodded earnestly. He was sick with fear that, having fulfilled her obligation to listen to him, she would reject his help. Hannah would be well within her rights to demand the box back and walk out the door to go it alone. Unwisely, he'd forced her into a corner...
"We're a family," Disco said in a strong voice, coming to Silver's aid. "That means we're there for each other. When one of us is in trouble, we help. No matter how many dumbass messes Silver gets himself into."
Branwen and Ursula added their support.
"What he said." Oz stepped up and lay his hand on Silver's shoulder in a show of support. "We're there for you, mate, and your Shelia."
"What he said," Cheyenne managed in his deep, broken voice.
"Thanks, guys." Silver infused his voice with gratitude, giving it the power of song. He held Hannah's gaze, willing her to believe in him... in them. "Give us a chance. We can help you."
"Okay..." Hannah eyed him with obvious misgiving.
"You won't be sorry." Silver's spirits soared and a wide smile split the corners of his mouth. He didn't mind her doubts. He intended to prove to her that he was the guy she could count on.
"All right. We have a lot to do and we're short on time." Disco clapped his hands, taking command of the operation. "Let's break it down and come up with a winning plan."
The others snapped alert. The band gathered energy, preparing to do what they did best—work as a team to overcome or circumvent opposition.
"In other words, a typical day," Branwen quipped with a grin.
"This isn't a game. We can't just con our way through it." Hannah frowned, clearly dubious, as though she already had doubts about agreeing to work with them.
"Trust me," Silver said softly. "This is what coyotes do best. The game is always designed so the rules are stacked against the little guy. The only way to win is by changing the rules."
Chapter Eleven
For coyotes, plotting consisted of everyone talking all at once. They were loud, opinionated, and argumentative. The overall arc of the discussion seemed to move in a specific direction, but they lost her. Hannah endured as much as she could but after just a couple minutes, she had a bad case of nerves. The unresolved situation with Marcus Malkin and her sister weighed heavily on her. Thanks to Silver's well-meaning meddling, she'd missed the meeting with the Russians. She desperately needed to get somewhere private and call Malkin back.
She ducked around Oz and passed beneath Cheyenne's arm to reach Silver, who was closest to the door. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed and legs extended. The firm set of his jaw suggested tension, and his hooded gaze followed her every move. Before she reached the door, he snaked out an arm, brushing his fingers across her forearm. His touch raised hair
s and her frayed temper, too.
"Where are you going?" Silver asked.
"Outside. I need air." She glared, daring him to stand in her path. She'd tolerated more than enough of his interference in her life. She refused to be held prisoner or treated like she required a chaperone.
Conflict warred on his handsome face. His worry and sorrow surprised her. She expected anger and ego from a thief and conman, a hard lesson learned from both her father... and her asshole ex. One she'd never forget. Except—no. Abruptly, Hannah checked herself and her prejudices. Lumping Silver in with Daddy Dearest and Nick was grossly unfair. So far, Silver had kept every promise he'd made to her.
Grimacing, Silver hunched his shoulders. He shoved his hand into his coat pocket, rooted around, and jerked out the box. He offered it to her. "Here. Please don't leave. Let me help you."
Hannah stared at the coveted treasure, the object of so much competition. She desperately wanted to grab it and run before he changed his mind. She feared it was a trick or a tease—he would snatch it away when she reached for it. Her cynicism shamed her. Only a distrustful, small-minded person assumed the worst of others. For some inexplicable reason, Silver kept trying to reach out to her despite being shot down over and over.
"Go on, take it." He tossed it toward her.
Reflexively, Hannah caught it with both hands. She clutched it, running her fingers over the carved lines of the runes. The gray wood retained Silver's warmth and distinctive scent. Abruptly, the knots of distrust in her gut unraveled and her doubts along with it.
"Go, I won't stop—" Silver reached for the doorknob, no doubt intending to continue his melodramatic rant. He never made it.
The depth of her gratitude rocked her, and spontaneous laughter burst from her. Hannah bounded straight at Silver, rushing across the few feet that separated them. She carelessly juggled the box that'd been so damn important seconds before to free up her hands. She smacked his chest, shoving his back against the wall, and glimpsed fleeting surprise on his handsome face before she claimed his mouth in a rough kiss. She smashed his lips beneath her own and ran her tongue across his upper teeth, savoring his essential maleness. His flavor was piquant, a chili heat that stung and lit her senses on fire. She wanted to cry and craved more because the burn was so fucking good. The man was addictive, and she was hooked. What a fool she'd been to think she could be satisfied with one taste and then walk away.
Outfoxed: A Zodiac Shifters Paranormal Romance: Gemini Page 10