Baby, I'm Howling for You

by Christine Warren

  And where Mick would have a heart attack every five minutes worrying that something could happen to her. “I told you, today I’m keeping you where I can see you. After tonight, you can even work overtime if you want to.” He paused and frowned. “Did Marjory give you grief about taking today off?”

  Renny rolled her eyes. “Of course not. As far as Marjory is concerned, I could stage a burlesque show on the circulation desk during the children’s story hour, and she wouldn’t give me grief. The woman wasn’t kidding when she said she’s ready to retire. She told me to take all the time I needed, but made me promise that I wasn’t planning to quit. In fact, I think she made me sign a contract when I filled out my personnel file. I remember her asking me to prick my finger.…”

  He shook his head at his mate’s antics. He’d already noticed that she tended to ramble on when she was nervous about something. Her stories became longer and more convoluted with every wave of anxiety. “Good. She’s your boss, so listen to her. Take today as a favor to me. I need to know you’re safe until we have Hilliard and all his puppets in custody.”

  Or until they’re dead, he thought, but he didn’t share that with his mate. He wanted to keep her mind off the possibility of violence.

  “Good morning, everyone.” Sheriff Ewan Lahern strode up the aisle between the rows of chairs, a cup of coffee in one hand and a thick stack of papers in the other. He set everything down on a table next to a lectern and looked out at the assembly. Two dozen men and women filled the seats or leaned up against the walls, all of them either deputies, junior officers, or carefully chosen volunteers from the community. Anyone with law enforcement or military experience had been recruited over the past few weeks to help find and bring in Geoffrey Hilliard. Really, the coyote should be proud of all the trouble he’d caused.

  Lahern was a big, barrel-chested man with dark gray hair, piercing eyes, and an impressive brush of a mustache. He was in his sixties, by Mick’s estimate, but he still moved and acted like a much younger man. One of the benefits of being a shifter. The black bear had been elected sheriff in the nineties, after twenty years of work in law enforcement, and had filled the position ever since. He was steady, competent, and a mean son of a bitch in a fight. Mick liked him.

  “Glad you all could join us,” Lahern continued, “because we’ve got a situation on our hands that’s going to take strategy, teamwork, and manpower to bring to its proper conclusion. I take it you’ve all been informed of the events surrounding Renny Landry’s arrival in Alpha, and the trouble that’s being caused by the pack of coyotes who followed her here. Am I right?”

  Nods and murmurs of assent filled the room. Beside Mick, Renny turned pink and slumped down in her chair as if she wanted to hide. He squeezed her hand. No matter how often he told her that she wasn’t responsible for the actions of the bastards who’d chosen to torment and threaten her, he knew she still struggled with a sense of guilt. His mate hated that she had caused trouble for the people around her, even the ones who had volunteered to take it.

  “All right, then.” Lahern turned to Zeke and gestured for the lion to join him in the front of the room. “Deputy Buchanan here has been in charge of coordinating this investigation, and he’s going to be the point man on the ground during the operation. I’m going to let him bring us all up to speed.”

  Zeke stepped in front of a familiar map, a near twin of the one in Jaeger’s office. Only the last time Mick had seen the map in the mayor’s office, it had lacked two important features: the big red pin stuck straight into an empty patch of green that represented the Wenatchee National Forest and a detailed enlargement of the area represented by the pin.

  He felt a surge of excitement. Almost time.

  “We finally tracked our subjects to this spot here.” Zeke indicated the pin. “East of Cle Elum Lake and south of Mount Stuart.”

  Linus Russu frowned. “That must be fifteen miles from here. It’s on the other side of the Teanaway. You really think they’re based out that far?”

  “We’re sure of it. We focused our initial searches closer in and came up with nothing. This is probably why. Remember, natural coyotes can travel ten miles a day just in the course of patrolling their territory. Fifteen miles for a shifter is nothing given the proper motivation.”

  “And we all know these assholes are motivated.” Deputy Draper spoke from the center of the room and blushed rhubarb red when Renny turned to look at him. “Pardon my language, ma’am.”

  She leaned close to whisper to Mick, “Am I really a ma’am now? I thought I was too young for that. Is it because I’m mated now? Or because I’m a librarian?”

  Personally, Mick guessed it was because Chris Draper’s mother wielded a mean wooden spoon, but he didn’t mention that.

  “Niemenen did most of our scouting on the location, so I’m going to ask him to describe it firsthand.”

  A deputy with short, ash-blond hair and ruthlessly high cheekbones came forward to address the room. “The target location is a semiconcealed structure of rough timber with a shake roof and limited access points. I counted two windows and one door. That’s it. It’s built at the base of an escarpment about half a mile from a small creek that flows roughly east–west right here.” He pointed to a line on the enlarged map area. “The coyotes chose it fairly well. The escarpment provides protection from the rear, and the door and window allow a full view of the other three sides. The area around it has been cleared to about thirty feet, and judging by the young growth at that boundary, I think it used to extend more like fifty or sixty, which limits the options for good cover. We’re going to have to plan carefully and be absolutely certain of our timing if we want to keep the potential for casualties to a minimum.”

  Mick examined the detail map. Whoever had drawn it had been thorough. The prominent natural features had been clearly marked, including the stream and the short cliff that rose behind the cabin. It sat in the center of the sketch facing southwest. Even the larger trees and denser thickets had been marked in the surrounding area.

  He considered the options, letting his wolf surge forward to help. Of course, he had to remind the animal that this time, they were going to use their heads as much as their teeth to solve the problem. This wasn’t going to be like eight years ago, when he had burst in to avenge his mate with claws bared and fangs flashing. He’d been stupid back then, and although he hadn’t cared at the time, he was lucky he had survived. This time, he wouldn’t be taking those kinds of chances. He had too much to live for now.

  Renny only half listened to the discussion around her. Like she’d told Mick, she wasn’t certain why she needed to be here. She understood his need to keep her safe and even got that his tension right now would be particularly high because they all had their ultimate goal firmly in sight. But her mate didn’t seem to understand that sitting in this room listening to recon reports and watching people she now knew and cared about assessing angles of attack and discussing the minimization of casualties kind of made her want to vomit.

  She squeezed his leg and leaned in to whisper, “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Mick grabbed her hand and held on. “Wait five minutes. I’ll call a recess and take you.”

  It took some effort, but Renny resisted the urge to scoff. “Really?” she hissed. “We are inside the Alpha Public Safety Building, sitting in the middle of the sheriff’s office, in a facility full of armed officers of the law. You really think I’m going to get kidnapped walking from this room to the second door down the hall, which is still inside the secured area of the department? Really?”

  He frowned and she saw him fighting with his instinct to shove her into a bulletproof bubble so he could just sit on her and keep her where he put her. To be fair, he’d done his best not to smother her while still keeping her safe over the past few weeks, but she couldn’t stay in this room another minute.

  “This is important,” she whispered, softening her tone. “You need to be here to plan
this, because I know you aren’t going to be sitting at home with me while the rest of these guys go find Geoffrey. I want you informed, because it’s the best way to keep you from getting hurt. I’ll only be a minute.”

  She saw him wavering and pressed her advantage. “The restrooms are visible from the bullpen down the hall. The officers there will be able to see me walk to and from the door. I’m pretty sure they’d stop an attacker before he got within ten feet of me. Please.” She held up her cell phone. “I’ll keep my finger on speed dial.”

  He growled under his breath, but he released her hand. “Five minutes. I’m timing you.”

  She kissed him quickly. “Thanks.”

  It surprised her not to see smoke rising from her heels as she made her escape. Maybe she’d watched too many Looney Tunes as a kid.

  The minute she cleared the doorway, she dragged in a deep breath. Her stomach would need a few minutes to unknot, but at least now it had the opportunity. In there, watching all those people ready to risk their safety for her, listening to them planning a military-style tactical assault on what she knew to be a group of vicious, unfeeling monsters, she’d felt herself turning into one giant Gordian knot of anxiety.

  She needed to hear a voice of reason.

  She hurried down the hall and slipped into the ladies’ room, then made use of that speed-dial function. Her call was answered with a sleepy yawn.

  “H’lo?”

  Renny winced. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you? Were you on duty last night?”

  “Nah, I had second shift. I got off at midnight. I’d have been up soon anyway.” Molly yawned again. “What’s up? I thought you’d be at the big powwow about now.”

  “I was. I mean, I am. I just had to get out of that room for a minute.”

  “Tell me about it. The testosterone cloud in there is toxic, especially when they’re in serious prep mode.”

  “No, it wasn’t that.” Renny leaned against a sink. “I think I might have been having a little panic attack.”

  “About what, sweetie?”

  “About this whole Operation Coyote thing. I want Geoffrey handled worse than anyone, but not if it means someone is going to get hurt. I don’t want that on my conscience.”

  “It won’t be.” The lioness’s voice firmed, the sleep draining from it. “They’re grown men and women, Renny, and apprehending rogues and criminals is what they’re trained to do. They’ll be fine. And if anyone does get injured, I’ll be there to patch them up. We’ll be on call for the whole thing.”

  “Great, so I can worry about you, too.”

  “Stop it, Renny Louise.”

  Damn it. She never should have told Molly her middle name.

  “None of what has happened to bring things to this point is on you,” Molly said, her tone hard and certain. “None of what happens tonight will be on you. At every step of the way, Geoffrey Hilliard and the ballsacs who work for him have made a choice to persist in coming after you. At any point in the last however many months, each and every one of them has had opportunities to stop and walk away. Many opportunities. The fact that they’ve persisted is on them, not on you.”

  Renny had been trying to tell herself that without much success. “I know, but—”

  “But, butt, behind. Listen to me. Not. On. You. Tonight, when the sheriff’s department and half the macho alphas in town descend on the coyotes’ hiding spot, they will still have the opportunity to make a choice. If they choose to give themselves up, no one will get hurt. If they choose to fight back … well, that’s on them, isn’t it?”

  Molly was right. Renny took a deep breath and focused on that knowledge. “Yeah, I guess it is. Thanks, Moll.”

  “You’re welcome. And let me give you another piece of advice while I’m at it. Guilt about people risking their lives for you is not what’s got your panties in a knot, my friend. The truth is, you’re scared for your mate, and you don’t have any reason to be.”

  “Um, hello? Life risking? He is going to be on that raid tonight. You know it, and I know it.”

  “Of course he is. But he’s going to have a dozen or more trained law enforcement and ex-military types at his back, and they’re going to outnumber those coyotes at least four to one. Trust me, my brother does not believe in being outgunned.”

  Molly was right, and Renny knew it. In the end, the only thing that really scared her was the possibility of losing her mate. Dear Goddess, but she wondered how Mick had gotten through it.

  “Yeah. Thanks, Molly,” she repeated.

  “Ain’t no thing, chicken wing. Now get back to your mate before he goes all Hulk Smash because you’ve been away from his side for ten seconds too long. Oh, and if the vultures have left any doughnuts in the conference room, be sure to grab me one. I’ll see you later.”

  Renny ended the call and slipped her phone into her pocket. Her anxiety hadn’t disappeared, but she at least felt like she could breathe again, and the urge to vomit had faded. She took a second to use the restroom for its intended purpose, washed her hands, and splashed a little water on her face. One more deep breath, and she was ready to return to the fray.

  She stepped out into the hall and spotted her mate opening the conference room door. Shit. She must have taken more than five minutes. She hurried forward.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry I took so long. Is everything okay?”

  Mick gave her a quick once-over and nodded, a little of his tension easing. “It’s fine. We decided on a break so Zee can get everyone copies of the map to make notes on.”

  A break. There went her fantasies about the ordeal of planning being over. She had to force a smile. “Oh, okay. I was hoping maybe this wouldn’t take too much longer.”

  “Another hour, maybe. The sheriff already has in mind how he wants to run things. The rest is just tweaking the details and making sure everyone’s on the same page. We’re going to want to give them all a chance to get home and rest up for a few hours. They need to be fresh for the zero hour.”

  Well, she could probably survive another hour. She hoped. “When is the ‘zero hour’?”

  “Sun sets at six. We’ll meet up at our rendezvous point at five thirty.” He brushed a finger over her cheek. “With luck, we’ll be home in bed by eight.”

  “You won’t want to celebrate your victory?” she teased, praying to the Moon that a celebration would be called for.

  Mick grinned. “Like I said, we’ll be in bed by eight.”

  “Hm, so I only have two or three hours of lonely terror to get through while I wait for you at home, then?”

  “Oh, you are not going to be alone,” he proclaimed. “I don’t care how good our intelligence is or what our scouts tell us when we get the signal to go. I am not taking any chances that one of those fuckers could slip past us and get to you while I’m off launching this attack. There will be an armed deputy with you at all times. At least one. Half a dozen, if Lahern can spare them.”

  She sighed and patted his chest. “Yes, dear.”

  Just one more night, she told herself. She just had to make it through tonight, and this long, depressing nightmare would finally be over. She could survive one more night.

  Just as long as her mate did.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mick crouched down behind a fallen log with a handful of other shifters. Less than a hundred yards away, the small, rough cabin crouched in the fading light, a thin tendril of smoke rising from the chimney tube and quickly disappearing in the quickening wind.

  The weather wasn’t offering them what you’d call ideal conditions for the evening’s operation. The cold front that had hit a few nights ago had finally passed, but in its place a storm seemed to be blowing in from the south. The sheriff had warned them that with the predictions of heavy winds beginning within a couple of hours after sunset, they wanted to keep this shindig on schedule. No one wanted to be stuck out in the woods when trees started shaking and branches started falling. Get in, get the targets, and get home—those were their
instructions.

  Other clusters of deputies and volunteers had taken up positions in the surrounding brush and even up on the top of the ridge behind the cabin. The sheriff was taking no chances that any coyotes would be able to make a run for it, sheer rock face or no sheer rock face.

  Zeke shifted minutely beside him. He knew that his friend, still in human form and clad in black tactical gear, had one of the small in-ear radio communicators that allowed him to coordinate movements with the other team leaders in the operation. It was how they knew that four figures had been confirmed inside the structure and how they would coordinate the timing on their assault.

  Mick wished they’d start it already. He could practically taste the blood of one particularly doomed coyote.

  Geoffrey Hilliard would fall under his fangs, and woe betide anyone who tried to interfere with his kill. The rest of the men had been warned.

  He had to work hard to control his wolf, a particular challenge given that he currently wore his fur. When in his animal shape, instinct always had more power and reason tended to fall by the wayside. Not that he became some sort of mindless beast or anything. He retained his identity and even his personality as a wolf, but the world always looked a little more black and white through wolf’s eyes. Predator or prey, friend or enemy, kill or be killed.

  The growing charge in the atmosphere wasn’t helping. The approaching storm was messing with the barometric pressure and electrostatic energy in the area, making his sharp canine senses go on high alert. He thought his ears even caught a rolling rumble in the distance. Given the rarity of thunderstorms in the area, he figured this meant tonight could get wild in more ways than one.

  He shoved back an impatient whine and kept his gaze focused on the cabin. He could smell the coyotes even at this distance, even over the thickening ozone. Hell, they might as well have put up a neon sign and mailed out invitations for all the good their hiding spot did now. He scented the motor-oil aroma of Ayala, as well as the sweetly rotten and decaying fungus fragrances of the Molina boys. And there was no way in hell he would ever mistake the thick, sulfurous odor of Geoffrey Hilliard, especially not after he’d had to spend so much money purging the noxious stuff from his home.