Alpha's Challenge: An MC Werewolf Romance (Bad Boy Alphas Book 4)

by Renee Rose

  “Shifter snatchers?”

  “Foxfire’s dad was doing research on them before he disappeared too, a year ago. Foxfire found out, and now she’s going to pick up where he left off.” I swallow. Any second now my alpha’s gonna interrupt and order me home. “I know it’s sounds crazy, but I think we should help. I’m going to, whatever you decide.” Defiance doesn’t sit well with wolves. I may be out on my ass.

  “Foxfire’s a fox,” Garrett says slowly.

  “Yeah.”

  “And her dad’s been abducted.”

  “A year ago. He may not be alive.” I’m about to tell my alpha I need to go, and deal with the consequences later, when Garrett curses.

  “We dealt with these fuckers in Mexico. Whatever you do—don’t kill them all.”

  “What?”

  “Get your woman to safety. Then call me. Wait—Amber has something to say.”

  It takes me a second to remember who Amber is. Foxfire’s friend. The little human Garrett was sniffing around. My dad said my alpha claimed her as mate.

  “Tank,” Garrett comes back on the line. “You need to get on the road, now. Amber’s psychic, and she says you don’t have any time to waste. If you’re not there by dusk, Foxfire is in trouble.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Foxfire

  I raise the binoculars and sweep the perimeter of the compound again. I’m up a tree, trying to spy on the compound from the distance. We’re on a hill, a little ways away. Not perfect, but the best vantage point I could find without getting close enough to get caught.

  “No movement,” I mutter. So far, the place has proved pretty boring. There are a few cars in there, but they have been there all day, and other than a few guards who patrol every other hour, I haven’t seen any sign of a person.

  No vans going in and out today, like my father made note of in his journal. I guess that’s something to be glad of. No vans means no deliveries. No kidnapped shifters.

  I climb down and make note in my dad’s journal, picking up where he left off. The last entry was so long ago. I try not to imagine what that might mean.

  Sunny sits cross-legged in front of Daisy. I expect her to be meditating, but instead she’s watching me, brow furrowed.

  “I haven’t seen anything yet. I’m going to go hike around, see if I can get closer.” I need more information if I’m going to break in tonight.

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “Do you have a better plan?”

  She presses her lips together.

  “No,” I veto it before I know what she’s going to say.

  “Honey, really, we need to talk about Tank.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. He left.”

  “I can tell you’re hurting. He meant something to you.”

  “We met a few days ago.” I can’t believe it’s only since Saturday. I’ve lived through several lifetimes. “I barely knew him.”

  “He’s worried about you. He cares about you, too.”

  If he cared, why did he leave? Oh yeah, because I told him to. Because he doesn’t belong with me. “We don’t fit, Mom. That’s all there is to it.”

  “All right, dear. I’m sure you know best.”

  “Yep. I never want to see him again.”

  Sunny sucks in a breath like she’s gonna say something.

  “What, Mom?”

  “The thing is… I may have told him where we are.”

  I cuss and check my phone. My signal’s not great, so I climb the tree again. Sure enough, I have a bunch of missed calls, some from Amber. Plus a text from Tank.

  “Stay where you are. I’m coming. I have a plan to break in tonight. Do not go in alone.”

  ~.~

  Tank

  At twilight, I reach the compound. I slow my bike and look for a road. Sure enough, there’s one cutting through the trees, right where the coordinates indicate the hidden area.

  I pass it and circle back, running off the road and hiding my bike in the trees.

  I check my phone for a text from Foxfire. Nothing. I told her I have a plan but that was a bit of a bluff. My plan isn’t much better than hers—sneak up to the compound, break in, and snoop around. The only difference is that I’d rather be the one in danger than her.

  I dial Jackson and Kylie next.

  “Tank?” Kylie answers.

  “I’m here,” I say quietly. “I’m about a quarter mile from the compound in the woods.”

  “Good. Sit tight. Sam is coming to help. He should be arriving at your coordinates now.”

  I glance around the dark woods. “How do you know my coordinates?”

  “I hacked your phone,” she says impatiently. “He should be there any minute. He can help you break in and get the data I need.”

  “What—” I start, and whirl at a minute noise several hundred feet to my right. I smell him before I see him.

  “He’s here,” I tell Kylie.

  “He’ll explain everything. Don’t call me again unless you’re on a burner phone.” She hangs up.

  “Sam.”

  Sam’s a young wolf who bartends at Club Eclipse but isn’t a full member of Garrett’s pack because he’s bound to Jackson, who’s a lone wolf.

  “Tank.” He nods, not quite meeting my eye. I’m more dominant than he is. If I remember the story right, Jackson took him in as a teen runaway. He’d found him on a mountain in wolf form—running wild. He’s been that way for months. If Jackson hadn’t hunted him down and forced him to shift, Sam would’ve lost his humanity forever. As it is, he’s still a loner. Smart, but keeps to himself, even in a crowd. I’m surprised Kylie would send him. Usually more dominant wolves are better in combat.

  “Kylie says you know the plan?”

  He nods. “Garrett and Jackson worked it out.”

  “Garrett?”

  “He called after you did. They came up with everything, and sent me.”

  Sam must’ve been closer to this place than I was, if he got here so quickly. I don’t waste time asking.

  “What are we going to do?”

  “There’s a main building. We’re going to wait until 21:00 and sneak in through a hole in the fence. I have bolt cutters. You look around for any captive shifters while I hack their intranet and set up a mole program so Kylie can get into their systems.”

  “You know how to do that?”

  “I live with Jackson King.”

  “All right.” I hold out my hand. “I need your burner phone.”

  ~.~

  Foxfire

  After sunset, the temperature drops quickly. I wish I had thought to pick up some food, more than just granola bars.

  Something vibrates, and I startle. My phone is off to save the battery from draining in the low service area. My mom holds out hers.

  “It’s Tank.”

  I sigh but accept it. The fact that she can even get cell service up here is a minor miracle.

  “What do you want?”

  “Where are you?”

  “My mom already told you that, didn’t she? You have a good nose. You figure it out. On second thought,” I add hastily, “don’t try. I don’t want to see you.”

  “Are you still planning to break in?”

  “My dad might be in there. Or, I don’t know, he might not be. He might be dead. I’m not naive. I just want answers.”

  “I’m going to get them for you. In an hour, I’m breaking into the compound.”

  I clutch the phone. “You are?”

  “Yeah, we have a plan. I’m with another shifter, a hacker. He knows how to get into their files. I’m going in and standing guard while he hacks their system. I’ll look for your dad.”

  “If he’s there, you’ll break him out?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s your dad. I called the pack, and told them—”

  “You called the pack?” My heart thuds harder.

  “Yeah.”

  I can’t believe
it. He called the pack for me.

  “I need you to take your mom and get away from this place. Foxfire, I mean it. I need you somewhere safe.”

  “I am safe.”

  “You’re in a VW bus painted bright purple with yellow flowers.”

  “Actually it’s bright yellow with purple flowers.”

  “Foxfire—”

  “All right, all right. I promise I’ll be safe.”

  “Promise you won’t try to storm the compound.”

  “I won’t. I’ll stay far away. Just… Tank?”

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “Be safe. Okay?”

  “Baby,” he says softly, before he hangs up.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tank

  It’s full dark when Sam and I arrive at the tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire that surrounds the compound. There are a few small outbuildings, but the two cars in the dirt lot are in front of the large main building.

  “That’s where the server room is,” Sam points out.

  “How do you know?”

  “Kylie hacked a satellite to get updated images.”

  I mentally put her on my don’t ever piss off list, and hunch down to wait. There is a hut with a few guards carrying automatic weapons, to keep out anyone entering the road. Most of their security lies in not showing up on any map. Their mistake, our good luck.

  I try to get a good scent of the place. It smells like shifters, but not just one type. Wolf, and a few others I’m not familiar with. No fox.

  Two men walk out of the building and head to the cars.

  Sam brought weapons for us—funny-shaped black guns. “Tranquilizers,” he tells me. “Garrett doesn’t want any deaths.” I rest my hand on it as we wait.

  “All right,” Sam says, when the last car rolls past the guard’s gate. We creep around to the back of the compound and he puts on gloves to use the bolt cutters.

  “Wait.” I point to a sign that indicates electric current.

  “It’s off,” Sam says. “Not sure why. It was probably built to keep shifters in, rather than out.”

  “Maybe there’s no one they need to keep in right now.” I hope it’s not true. That doesn’t bode well for Foxfire’s dad.

  We crawl through the small hole Sam makes. He pulls it shut behind us so a guard won’t notice the breach. From there it’s a short run to the back of the main building. The scent of shifters is much stronger here, clashing with a myriad of other smells: bleach, chemicals, and cleansing fluid over darker scents. Blood. Fur. Fear.

  Under the cover of darkness, we reach a door. I stand watch while Sam crouches to pick the lock. I stop him before he opens it.

  “Alarm?”

  Sam shakes his head. “They think they’re safe.”

  I hold my breath as he opens it, but nothing triggers. “All right. Go fast. Find the server room.”

  We follow our noses down a sick-smelling corridor. The harsh cleansers used to clean this place almost numb my nose, but Sam seems to know just where he’s going. I follow him, committing a few turns to memory until he comes to a quiet office filled with powered-down machines.

  “Here.” He pulls a seat up to a computer. “This will be a few minutes.”

  I hover in the door, keeping watch. The guards should patrol this place regularly. My hope is that they’re complacent. So far, they are. I’d hate to get into a firefight with them. Our weapons will be no match for theirs. Especially if the guards are used to bringing down shifters.

  Sam’s face is eerily lit by the screen.

  “How much longer?” I ask.

  “I’m in. Ten minutes.”

  Just enough time for me to search the building and see if Johnny is here. “Be right back.”

  I sneak down the hall, following my nose around a few turns. There’s a definite animal smell that not even the antiseptic can mask. What sort of shifter, I can’t say.

  I reach a stairwell and ease the door open. The shifter scent hits me full force, along with the scent of blood and shit. Breathing through my mouth, I descend the stairs. Tingles run up and down my spine as I enter the basement. There are large cages on the other side of the door. The smell is even stronger. This is where they keep their secrets.

  Inside, I prowl up and down the rows of empty cages. There are several separate rooms of them, each smelling a little different. Different shifters, I guess. Each room fans off the central one, which is a lab full of racks of test tubes, computers, and tables with heavy restraints. The smell of fear is strongest here. I gag and back out.

  One more round of the place, and I reach a wall with small doors leading to cells. I glance in each one, relying on my nose to tell me if anyone’s living. There’s a few on the end with no window looking in. I almost miss checking when my foot hits the desk nearby and the console comes to life. On screen is a dark room. A camera on one of the cells. As I watch, the shadows move. In the darkness glow two bright eyes.

  There’s only one creature in here, other than me. A shifter. A prisoner.

  I go to the door and rap on it. “Hey. Anyone alive in there?”

  I wait a few minutes. Nothing. I need to be getting back up to Sam. I’m about to leave when a growl brings my wolf to high alert.

  “Who wants to know?” a deep voice asks.

  “I’m a friend. I’m looking for a fox shifter. The father of my mate.”

  “Are you a prisoner or one of them?”

  “Neither. I’m here to get you out.” It’s the truth. The plan is just to do reconnaissance, and wait for the pack to do a full out rescue within the next few nights. “We will free you and whoever else is here, I swear on the life of my mate.”

  “You here for Johnny?”

  “You know him?”

  “Get me out, and I’ll take you to him.”

  Damn. That’s not the plan. “Is this door alarmed?”

  “Not anymore. I’m not the threat I used to be.”

  Here goes nothing. I study the door. I could try to kick it in, but it’s probably built to withstand shifters. “Hang on,” I mutter and rip the hinges off, backing up as the door wrenches open from the inside.

  “I’m armed,” I say as the prisoner climbs out.

  “I’m no threat, the shifter growls. He’s huge but emaciated, his ribs jutting from his large frame. His scent is rich and smoky.

  “What’s your animal?”

  “You can’t smell me, wolf?” He turns his head and gives me the full force of his stare. Golden eyes with a small black pupil. Lion.

  I recognize the tattoo on his shoulder.

  “Special forces?”

  He nods.

  “How long have you been here?”

  A pause, and then an awful laugh. If I were in wolf form, my fur would stand on end. “To long. Far too long.”

  “We don’t have much time.”

  “This way.”

  I follow him back up the stairs, ears perked for any noises. The hall upstairs is as dark and silent as ever.

  “What the fuck were they doing in here?” I mutter as we pass another lab room.

  “Experiments on shifters,” the tortured lion says. “They’re obsessed with bloodline. Sometimes…” His head cocks to the side as if he’s remembering something. “Sometimes,” he mutters, almost to himself, “they breed them.”

  I keep my distance as we turn down another hall. I don’t have to be a shrink to know this guy is crazy.

  “In here,” he says. My wolf makes me wait until he backs away to peer through the door.

  There’s no one in the room. Just a large white box and the smell of ash and death.

  “Cremation,” my guide rasps. “That’s how they get rid of the evidence. You want to find Johnny? He’s in there.” And he lets out another laugh.

  I reel back, gut twisting with the awful sound.

  The lion shifter leaps forward and slams my head against the wall. I drop to a knee, dazed. When I find my balance, the lion is gone.

&nb
sp; Fuck.

  I race back to Sam. He’s not at the same computer, but over by the wall. “We got to go.”

  He rises and hurries to a table to pack up his tools. “What happened to you?”

  I swipe at my face. My nose is bleeding.

  “Found a prisoner and freed him. We need to move, now.”

  The prisoner might be smart enough to escape but might not care about not setting off alarms.

  Sure enough, as we dart into the hall, lights flood the building. Alarms blare.

  “Shit.”

  “Come on,” Sam grabs me and pulls me another way. As we run, shouts hit the building outside.

  “What are we going to do? We’re surrounded.”

  “Plan B,” Sam says grimly. He pushes me against the wall and presses against it next to me. “Brace yourself.”

  “Wh—”

  A blast shakes the building.

  ~.~

  Foxfire

  “Foxfire,” my mom calls from her perch atop Daisy. “Something’s going on.”

  “What?” I ask, but as soon as I stand on the seat, hanging out the front door, I can see. There are floodlights on at the compound and blaring alarms blaring. “Oh no.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “Trouble,” I say. “With a capital T.”

  ~.~

  Tank

  “What the fuck was that?” I shout as the shock of the blast rings in my ear. The sprinklers cut on, and we run through the slick hall.

  “Plan B.” Sam doesn’t explain.

  “You set a bomb?”

  “Just in case we needed a diversion.” He’s creepily calm. Still a slender, mild-looking shifter—apart from the piercings and tats. But there’s gleam in his eye I don’t like.

  “Come on.” I race toward the door at the end of the hall. If we’re lucky, the guards are distracted enough we can still escape.

  But when I stick my head out, lights flash my way.

  “Shit.”

  “This way. There’s another exit.”

  “How do you know?”