Her Wolf (Their Lady of Shadows Book 4)

by Logan Fox

“Rats don’t take prisoners,” Lars murmured. “Last chance, Peter Hanson. Make yourself useful.”

  Peter’s gaze fixed intently on Lars’s. The man’s furious panting brushed over his lips, breath coppery from the blood in his mouth.

  Slowly, incrementally, disgust eked from his face. Peter blinked, and his gaze became imploring. “I can help you find her, but time’s running out.”

  Lars laughed, rushing to a stand. “Jesus, just kill him Milo,” he said with a dismissive wave.

  “No, please, I can—!”

  Gurgles cut off the man’s insistent plea.

  Lars paused just before he reached the door. He turned back, watching Milo throttling the DEA agent.

  But was he really? Milo said he’d found a badge on him, but nothing else. Wouldn’t he have had a radio, or an earpiece—something to keep contact with HQ? And if not, did that mean he really was out on his own?

  Why?

  Why would a DEA agent knowingly attend a cartel meeting of this size without backup?

  Lars strode back. He slammed his boot down on the man’s thigh, forcing the chair back on all four legs. Milo let up with the belt, frowning at him over Peter’s bowed head.

  The man rasped for breath. Lars grabbed his chin, forcing his head up. “What do you mean, ‘Time’s running out?’”

  Peter’s eyes were bloodshot, his mouth a trembling line. He drew a few more labored breaths, before whispering, “I put a tracking device on her, but the battery only lasts so long.”

  Lars stepped back, and the man’s head dipped before he could straighten his neck to look at Lars. Milo came around, belt dangling from his fingers as he stared blue murder at Peter.

  “You motherfucker,” Milo bit out. “You couldn’t just fucking tell me that?”

  Peter grinned at him with bloody teeth and innocent eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?” he said hoarsely.

  31

  The problem with Americans

  The DEA agent, Peter Hansen, had parked his Jeep at the far end of the lot. Finn walked at a brisk pace, Ana and the other three men trailing him.

  They could conserve their energy all they wanted, but he refused to let Cora get away from him again.

  He had a flashback of the bedroom in Noah’s junkie farmhouse: Cora, wet and slimy with bath suds, pulling the trigger of her Taurus.

  But tonight she’d been unarmed.

  Drugged.

  And her captors had at least a forty minute lead.

  All because this bullshitting DEA agent hadn’t thought to mention the fact that he knew where Cora was.

  Finn barely suppressed a snarl as he reached the Jeep. He spun back, gesturing Lars to move faster. He and Bailey each held one of Hansen’s arms, the man’s hands still bound behind his back.

  Neo’d done a good job of clearing out the party; the Jeep, a handful of middle-income cars, and the caterer’s truck were all that remained in the lot.

  Lars took Hansen’s keys from his pocket, giving the man a surly look when Peter flashed him a smile, and handed them to Finn. The Jeep unlocked with a quiet beep, and Finn gestured for the men to untie Hansen.

  “Move,” Finn said in a low growl.

  “Going as fast as I can.” Peter climbed into the driver’s seat, and hauled a laptop bag out from under it. He turned, setting up the laptop on the passenger side while Finn scanned the parking lot.

  If they’d just been ahead of this a few minutes, they’d have been able to stop every car leaving the premises. It might not have helped — Cora could have been escorted off the hotel’s property already — but at least he wouldn’t feel like he’d failed her again.

  Again.

  The word rang echoed in his head.

  “Got it,” Peter called out to them over his shoulder. “Last location is fifty miles south of here.”

  “What do you mean, last location?” Finn stepped up, moving Peter aside with the back of his hand so he could peer into the interior and look at the computer’s screen.

  “The tracker sends out a signal every sixty seconds. It’s been sending out the same signal now for more than ten minutes.”

  “They’ve stopped,” Lars said, crowding in beside Finn and trying to peer at the laptop screen.

  “Or they found the tracker,” Peter said, his voice despondent.

  “Where is she?” Ana asked.

  Peter drew air through his teeth in a quiet whistle. “I think they hopped the border.”

  “What? She’s in Mexico?” Lars demanded.

  “Close enough,” Peter said, zooming in on the map. He pointed, and Finn made out a faint line on the satellite footage. “See that? It’s the Rio Grande. Cross it, you’re in Mexico.”

  “Fuck,” Finn spat, stepping back so Lars could get a better view of the screen. “Fuck!”

  Ana came up to him, laying a cool hand on his arm. “We can still find her, right?”

  “We?” Finn looked down at the woman, realizing for the first time that she’d followed them out here. “You go back to the villa.”

  “What? Why?” Annoyance sparked in Ana’s eyes. “I can help.”

  “Only if you plan on being bait,” Bailey said, but Finn could hear his heart wasn’t in it. Ana’d been the one to rouse Bailey, tracking down a cold compress for the impressive bump on the back of his head. Guy didn’t seem so grateful anymore, but Finn could sympathize.

  “I could…I could—”

  “You can keep out of our way,” Finn cut in. “Besides, Neo might be at the villa. You can call us if he is. Or when he arrives.” Finn dropped his voice. “I have things to discuss with him.”

  His beast purred, eagerly anticipating the long, bloody conversation he planned to have with Neo.

  Ana crossed her arms over her chest. “She’s my friend, and I—”

  A phone rang. Ana closed her mouth, and then glanced around.

  Finn shrugged. “Not mine.”

  They all looked at Peter, who was studying the map of the tracker’s co-ordinates.

  “You planning on answering that?” Lars asked. “Or just annoying us to the point were we beat you to death?”

  “It’s not—” Peter began, and then cut off.

  If his head hadn’t turned a fraction toward the trunk, Finn wouldn’t have connected the dots. But there was just the briefest tensing of Peter’s muscles — enough to let Finn know that he’d just realized where the sound was coming from.

  “Pop the trunk,” Finn said, already moving around to the back of the Jeep.

  Peter threw him a wide-eyed look that he probably thought was innocent, but that reeked of guilt. “I can explain—”

  “Open it!” Finn bellowed.

  Christ, he was losing his shit. It was fucking night, full moon, and Cora was gone. Possibly, it seemed, smuggled back over the border.

  The trunk unlatched with a click. Finn fumbled for the handle and threw it open. A light came on immediately, bathing the body of a man stuffed into the compartment. The phone rang once more before going silent — and that last ring made it clear where the phone was.

  Finn slid his hand into the man’s jacket and pulled out the cellphone.

  Eight missed calls. Three voice messages.

  Finn looked up, catching Peter’s eyes in the rear view mirror. Maybe he’d been wrong about the guilt—the man’s eyes were unreadable now.

  Finn closed the door again. When he came around the side of the Jeep, Peter’s head swiveled to follow him.

  “Recognize the number?” Finn asked, turning the display to face Peter.

  Hansen shook his head.

  Finn handed the phone to Lars. “Can you get the voicemails off there?”

  “I can try,” Lars said.

  “Pin’s four-four-three-three,” Peter said, craning past Finn to look at Lars. “Wasn’t too difficult to get it out of him.”

  “Him?” Lars asked, glancing to the back of the car.

  Ana screamed. Finn spun around, but she was already tumbling away
from the back of the Jeep. She must have gone to peek in the back window.

  Curiosity kills the cat, his beast purred.

  “I’m guessing that’s a corpse she’s on about?” Lars asked dryly of Peter.

  “Who was he?” Finn asked.

  “Zachary West’s man,” Peter said.

  Even the crickets chose that moment to go silent. Or, perhaps Ana’s scream had made them wary to start up their chirping again.

  “Zachary West?” Lars repeated quietly, as he went around to the back of the Jeep. He peered through the back window, cupping his hands to the glass to ward off the moon’s reflection. “This is Zachary West’s man?”

  “Was,” Peter said. Then he turned to Finn. “We’re losing her.”

  The words were meant for his ears alone. He studied Peter for a few seconds and then narrowed his eyes. “Lars, listen to those voice mails.”

  “Will do,” Lars said, stepping away from the car as he held the cellphone to his ear.

  Finn stepped right up to the open driver’s side door, leaning his upper arm against the top of the car as he bent forward.

  “What’s your connection with Zachary?” Finn asked in a low voice.

  Peter’s eyes flickered over his face before he answered. “I’m DEA. He’s a drug dealer. What do you think my connection is?”

  “Why’d you come here tonight?” Finn asked.

  “Wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Two new capos, and all that.” Peter glanced at Lars, who was still a few feet away listening to the phone’s voice messages. “Plus, the leader of a rival cartel was planning to show up. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

  Finn couldn’t argue with the logic, but he knew Peter was holding something back. The fact that he’d killed the guy in the trunk instead of handing him in for questioning…

  “Who do I phone in the DEA to confirm who you really are?” Finn asked, leaning closer still to Peter.

  He expected the man to move back, but instead he sat forward a little so their faces were less than an inch apart.

  “Fredericks. He’s Special Agent in Charge.” Peter’s gaze shifted to Finn’s mouth before snapping up to his eyes again. “And it’s Price. Kane Price.”

  “This Fredericks guy can vouch for you?”

  A strange light entered Kane’s eyes. “You betcha,” he said in a voice that was too cheery, too fake, too damn everything.

  “Milo!”

  Finn drew back, studying Kane for a long moment before turning to Lars. “What?”

  “So…” Lars said, holding the cellphone up and wriggling. “Fun fact: Neo thinks Zachary West owes him a big ‘ole heap of money.”

  Finn frowned, aware there was more to come and annoyed that Lars was dragging this out for dramatic purposes. But before he could open his mouth to prompt him to continue, Lars said, “’Cos see, it turns out, he’s gone and sold Cora to the one and only El Lobo.”

  . . .

  Kane watched the lithe form of Lars walk closer. The man moved with arrogant grace. When he’d first seen him as a doorman, he’d taught it was all just machismo…but he acted that way around the bulky Milo Finn too.

  And Milo, he was coming to realize, was something of an enigma. For one, Kane rarely felt anything except loathing for men like him; strapping guys that lived and breathed their own egos. But Milo didn’t use his bulk to intimidate; that seemed too easy. Instead, he pretended to be a dumb fuck, and then sat and worked out all the pieces while you were wondering how long it would take you to wear through your ropes and break free.

  There was no reason to keep lying. If this dynamic trio went ahead and called Fredericks, gave them his badge number—

  Fredericks would lie.

  He was a sick sonofabitch sometimes. He’d lie to these guys, tell them he’d never heard of a Kane Price. If they gave him the badge number, he’d tell them it was a fake.

  That was the stand-up guy Fredericks was. Because Kane had been suspended. He wasn’t supposed to be bringing down cartels all by his lonesome.

  He was making the department look bad.

  And Fredericks was nearing retirement. He didn’t want to rock the boat.

  “He sold her,” Milo repeated, the words coming slowly out his mouth like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  Why did he act so surprised? Cartels were renowned for the shit they pulled. If Cora was still alive, she probably wished she wasn’t.

  “That’s not all. Seems he’s headed over to ‘Duncan’s Place’ to get his money.” Lars put the phrase in air quotes. “Sounds pissed that El Lobo’s been dodging his calls.”

  “So he calls Zachary’s lieutenant instead?”

  Lars shrugged. “Hey, the guy wants his money. Can you blame him?”

  Milo snarled at Lars, but the guy took it in his stride.

  Sharp green eyes focused on Kane a second before the lanky man ambled up to him. “This Duncan?” Lars asked, stabbing a thumb toward the trunk.

  Kane nodded.

  “How’d you find him?”

  Again, the urge to lie was strong. These men were part of a cartel. Granted, they could cause friction and that would make his job easier, but it irked him to have to hand out information he’d spent months ferreting out through honest-to-God police work.

  He drew a deep breath. “I’ve been monitoring him for almost a month.”

  “You tapped his phone?” Milo asked, coming up behind Lars.

  “Look,” Kane said, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “We’ll have all the time in the fucking world for this kind of shit once we’ve found the girl. Can we prioritize for a sec?”

  Two pairs of eyes attempted to bore holes in his retinas.

  “Jerk off’s right,” Lars muttered. “Let’s get a move on.”

  “But what about Neo?” The third member of their crew caught Lars on the shoulder, turning him partly around. “We can’t let him get away.”

  “No one gives a shit about him, Bailey,” Lars snapped.

  “And look where that got us,” Bailey said, narrowing his eyes at Lars.

  Seemed this Bailey had a bone to pick with Neo Martin, something that could work to Kane’s advantage. Trying to overpower three men? Tricky. But if he upped his odds…

  “If it’s Zachary that has Eleodora,” Kane burst out, “then Neo might know where he’s taken her.”

  “But we already know where she is!” Milo pointed at the laptop. “Why the hell aren’t we going yet?”

  “Because they could be anywhere in Mexico by now,” Lars said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Milo as if he’d suddenly made this whole thing personal. “How the hell—”

  “I know where Duncan’s place is,” Kane said, speaking over Lars.

  Silence filtered down for a second before all three men looked at him. He shrugged and gave them a self-deprecating smile. “That house has tons of intel inside. Stuff on Zachary, stuff on the cartel. And if Martin is there, looking for his cash…”

  “Then we might be able to find out where Zachary’s taken Cora,” Lars finished, nodding his head.

  “Is it close?” Milo asked, his eyes moving to the laptop behind Kane.

  He swung around, retrieving the computer and locating the safe house on the satellite map. Then he pivoted the computer on his lap and pointed it out.

  “Christ,” Lars muttered. “They’re literally fifty miles in different directions.”

  “As the crow flies,” Kane agreed in a murmur. “But there’re four of us.”

  “Five!” The young woman who’d been hanging around them since they’d left the hotel stepped closer, wobbling on her high heels. “Don’t forget about me.”

  Kane raked his gaze over her; he doubted he’d forget about her in a hurry. She was more his tastes than the somewhat diminutive Eleodora Rivera anyway.

  Except for her eyes. Her eyes were pretty enough, but they weren’t the burnished gold of Eleodora’s.

  And he doubted this woman tasted so
sweet. So inexperienced. So…ripe for the picking.

  Kane swallowed hard, forced his focus away from the pretty blond, and made a quick study of the three men.

  Milo stared expressionlessly at the laptop’s screen. Lars was shaking his head, eyes darting as if he was trying to calculate the best route between the two.

  Bailey, on the other hand, stared only at one spot.

  Duncan’s safe house.

  “Tell you what,” Kane said, pointing out the tracker’s last location. “We’ll split up. Two of us can go to the safe house, the other two—”

  “Three!” chimed in the blond, making Kane grit his teeth.

  “Forget it,” Milo said, stepping back. “It could be a dead end. We’re going to where Cora was—”

  “That could be a dead end!” Bailey cut in. “I say we go to this safe house and see what—”

  “Guys. Guys!” Lars stepped between the two men, a hand on either’s chest. “Enough.”

  It was a strangely intimate touch, and one that neither man seemed to flinch away from.

  Another interesting nugget that Kane squirreled away to think on later.

  “There are four of us,” Kane said again, utter calm in his voice.

  “Like we’ll trust you to—” Lars began, but Kane held up a hand.

  “I want to find her just as much as you do.” He injected as much emotion into his words as he could muster. It must have done the trick; the three men shared a glance before facing him again.

  “Fine,” Milo said, and then stepped forward in a rush. “But you’re coming with me so I can keep an eye on you.”

  He couldn’t have planned it better himself. Kane gave a tight smile, and hurriedly moved over the seat so Milo could take the wheel of his Jeep.

  Bailey and Lars shared a look. “Shotgun,” Lars said, and then beckoned at Kane. “Turn that screen here so I can get the address.” He used a smart phone to take a picture of the GPS co-ordinates of the safe house, and then showed the screen to Bailey. “Know where we’re going?”

  Bailey looked at the phone, and then up at Kane. He frowned, and then nodded. “Yeah, I can get there.”

  “You let us know soon as you find something,” Lars said.