Reyes pushed her sodden tangle of blond hair out of her eyes. “If I weren’t such a nice person,” she announced with a chilling dose of menace, “I’d kill him.”
Her partner frowned as he sent the irritated woman a baleful glare, his dark eyes, which he’d inherited from his Native American grandmother, glowing like a midnight stretch of star-studded sky. “If I’d known the heavens were gonna unload today, I’d have put the damn roof on before we left,” he said tightly, the words all but ground through his clenched teeth. “I said I was sorry, so what else do you want from me? Honest to God, woman, just tell me and I’ll do it. God knows it’d be better than listening to you go on and on.”
The female Runner bared her teeth in an evil smile. “If I were you, I’d save that question for some other time, Pall—preferably when I’m not feeling like a drowned rat. Right now, you might not like what I ask for.”
Wyatt made a grunting sound of frustration, which he quickly choked off when Torrance and Michaela came back into the room, their arms loaded with thick towels. “Thanks,” he murmured as Michaela handed him one, then offered two to Reyes. They ran the towels over their heads, then dried their clothes as best they could, while Torrance threw three more towels over the puddle on the floor.
“Let’s take this into the kitchen, where it’s warm,” Mason drawled, once they were no longer waterlogged. “I’ll put on some fresh coffee.”
“I’ll take mine with some whiskey,” Reyes sighed, wrapping one of the towels around her head.
“I’ll take mine with whiskey, too,” Wyatt muttered. “But hold the coffee.”
Everyone snickered, and together they all wandered back to the cozy kitchen, Jeremy and Jillian coming in a few minutes later. The group had been sitting and talking for nearly a quarter of an hour when Cian finally came through the archway. It occurred to Brody that the Irishman’s “dark angel” looks were the perfect complement to Michaela’s stunning beauty, the thought sending a sour feeling to the pit of his stomach that felt suspiciously like the hateful burn of jealousy.
“Any trouble?” he asked when his partner took a seat beside him, his handsome features etched with strain and fatigue.
“Nothing,” Cian sighed, stretching out his long legs as he leaned back in his chair. “Whomever Michaela felt, he never showed his face and I never picked up anything to track.”
Michaela gave a self-deprecating smile. “It was probably just my imagination.”
“You said that you heard static in your head,” Jillian remarked thoughtfully, her hands wrapped around a thick blue mug of coffee. “Have you ever experienced anything like that before?”
“Only at the clearing,” she explained, “after Max’s ceremony. It was just before I left.”
Mason cut a dark look at Brody. “Maybe our killer is so screwed up, his psychic signals or whatever it is that Mic’s able to pick up on are coming through warped.”
“Hence the static,” Cian murmured, locking his hands behind his dark head, the corners of his wide mouth turned down.
“He could even be trying to reach you, Mic.” Torrance suddenly gasped, leaning forward in her chair. “That’s it! What if he’s trying to communicate with you, but you’re just not picking up the signal clearly?”
“God, I hope not,” she murmured, her expression revealing her horror. Studying her from beneath his lashes, Brody noticed the way her hands trembled, betraying her nerves and fear, though she tried not to show it, her scent growing stronger with the rise of her pulse. “I don’t want some maniac talking in my head.”
A slight shiver rushed through her, the skin on her arms covered with chill bumps even though it was warm in the kitchen. Brody wanted to reach out and take her hand, but knew he couldn’t.
Jerking his attention away from her before he did something stupid, like follow through on his primitive instincts, he listened as she talked with the others, while struggling to get control of himself. With no conscious direction from his brain, Brody found himself watching the subtle love play between the mated couples. The brush of a hand against an arm. A secret smile. A shared look. The closeness, the connection. He’d been around them many times before and never felt this illogical urge to get up and run from the room, escaping the proof of their love. Despite wearing a light T-shirt, he was sweating, feeling trapped, unable to relax.
He prayed for a distraction, on the verge of panic, nearly sighing with relief when Mason, his hard tone cut with disappointment, looked at him and said, “By the way, I talked to Dylan. He took the information about Dustin’s attack on Max before the League.”
“And?” he prompted, scratching his palm across the edge of his jaw.
The Runner sighed as he leaned back in his chair. “As expected, Drake argued against taking action, claiming conflict of interest.”
“He accused Brody of lying?” Michaela demanded hotly, her voice shaking with anger as she tuned into their conversation.
“It’s okay, Doucet,” he assured her in a low voice, even though he was furious with the League. “We expected it.”
“It isn’t okay,” she argued, turning toward him so quickly that her hair fanned out around her shoulders. “You risk your life for them, Brody. The least they could do is treat you with respect. And that monster attacked my brother. He deserves to pay!”
Frowning, Brody said, “If you feel that strongly about it, why didn’t you let me go after him last night?”
“Merde! Because you could have been hurt,” she said tightly, her frustration evident in the thickening drawl of her accent. “Not that you’d have actually left me there alone, so stop acting like you would have. And just because I didn’t want you going after him on your own doesn’t mean I don’t want to see him pay for what he’s done!”
“I didn’t mean to insinuate that you did,” he murmured, unable to take his eyes off her. She was always stunningly beautiful, but when she had her back up, you could see the energy coming off her like incandescent sparks, vivid and wild and breathtaking.
“Did I just hear that right?” Cian drawled, squinting his eyes as he stared at Brody with an incredulous look of surprise. “Because it almost sounded like you were actually apologizing.”
“Can it, Hennessey,” he muttered under his breath.
“Before you two start going at each other’s throats,” Mason sighed, “I just want to remind everyone to watch their backs.” His golden-brown gaze traveled around the room. “Something’s coming, and I think it’s getting closer. When it blows, it’s gonna be big.”
“Just so long as it doesn’t blow tomorrow night,” Jeremy murmured, flashing a warm smile at his fiancée as he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers. Looking toward Cian, he asked, “Did you get the cedar for the fire pits?”
“Don’t worry, boyo,” Cian drawled with a slow smile. “It’s all taken care of. You and your little lady love will be able to enjoy your wedded bliss in the great outdoors without everyone freezing their asses off.”
Brody pushed back from the table. “I’m going to go ahead and take Doucet up to my cabin so she can get settled in.”
“Before you head up to Brody’s,” Torrance said, reaching across the table to take hold of Michaela’s hand, “I wanted to let you know that we heard from Eric this morning.”
“Did you talk to Max?” she whispered, her voice husky with emotion. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier, ma chère? What did he say?”
“You were so pale when you got here, I wanted to give you a chance to relax before I brought it up. And I didn’t get to talk to Max, because he was upstairs with Elliot,” Torrance explained with a smile. “But Eric said he’s doing great.”
* * *
Oh thank God, Michaela silently cried, struggling to hold back a hot wave of tears. There was a storm of emotion roiling just beneath the surface of her composure that threatened to overflow every time she thought about her brother.
Blinking back a salty wash of tears, she he
ard Brody ask, “Elliot’s there?”
Torrance nodded. “When Elliot heard about Max, he called Eric and asked if he could come over. I guess the two of them have really hit it off. They’re close in age, and have both been through a lot. Eric asked Elliot if he’d come and stay while Max is in training. He thinks Elliot’s going to be a lot of support for Max right now.”
Elliot Connors was a Silvercrest teen who had landed in some serious trouble a few weeks ago with one of Drake’s rogues. The kid was lucky that the Runners and Mason’s parents had taken him under their wing, offering him their friendship and support, since his own parents had all but washed their hands of him. He had a long road ahead of him, but Michaela knew he would make it. The few times she’d been around Elliot, she’d sensed nothing but a good heart. His soul was shadowed by pain, but he was strong enough to overcome his mistakes.
“Eric says Elliot and Max are getting along like they’ve known each other for years,” Torrance added, “bonding like a couple of kids.”
A sad smile twisted the corner of Michaela’s mouth, and she tried to shake the melancholy sensation, but Torrance noticed. “What’s wrong, honey? I knew it would upset you to talk about Max, but I thought you’d be relieved he’s doing okay.”
“I am. I just…I feel bad, I guess. Max has worked so hard to pull his weight, even though I’ve told him time and again that there’s enough money now for him to go to school without working. He’s never had a break. I just think it’s sad that it took something like this to make him step back and take a deep breath. He doesn’t even really have many friends back home. I’m glad that Elliot’s there with him.” Turning toward Brody, she said, “Do you think I’ll be able to see him soon?”
“You want to go to Shadow Peak?” The look he gave her showed his surprise. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”
She gave a soft, shaky laugh. “It’s going to take more than a town full of werewolves to keep me from seeing my baby brother. They won’t scare me, so long as you’re there with me. No one would dare mess with you.”
“Max is under Eric’s protection,” he said in a low voice, and she could have sworn his cheekbones were flushed with color, as if her praise embarrassed him, “but I’ll take you up so long as he gives the okay.”
Michaela smiled at him as he stood, unable to believe what he’d said. “You mean it? You’ll really take me?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up in a boyish grin at her obvious excitement, breaking her heart, since she doubted he’d had much reason to grin as a child. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, I’ll go give Eric a call right now.”
Chapter 9
Brody couldn’t help the chord of anxiety that accompanied him as he entered Eric’s house and spotted Max standing nervously on the far side of the room, the young man’s knuckles white as he gripped the back of a pine chair. Part of a dining set, the chair sat in an arched alcove off to the right side of the living room, the kitchen just beyond.
For a split second, Brody worried about the reaction Michaela would have toward her brother, now that Max was one of them and no longer human. It didn’t take long, however, for him to realize his concern was misplaced. With an ear-piercing cry of joy that spilled into the room like a colorful swarm of butterflies, Michaela rushed past him the second she set eyes on Max, running across the hardwood floor and hurtling herself into her brother’s arms. Max crushed her against his lean body, his shoulders shaking while he buried his face in the thick waves of her hair, obviously as overcome with emotion as his sister.
Brody shook his head in wonder and relief, painfully aware that he shouldn’t have underestimated her. There was no hesitation as she embraced her brother, carefully avoiding the bandages on his injured shoulder, and yet, holding him as though she had no intention of ever letting him go—as if she could take all the pain he’d suffered the past few days and make it her own. Untainted and unguarded, her love existed completely without prejudice.
As if acting by silent agreement, he and Eric remained by the door. The tall, broad-shouldered Lycan stood silently at his side, hands shoved in his jeans’ pockets as he watched the Doucets with dark gray eyes and a pleased expression that revealed his own relief at the successful reunion. When Max and Michaela sat down at the table, put their dark heads together and began quietly talking, Eric slanted him a knowing look. “Man,” he drawled, “I didn’t think I’d ever see the day, but you’ve got it as bad as Burns does.”
“Got what?” Brody asked in a low voice, not wanting to disturb the siblings.
“Like you don’t know,” the Lycan snorted. “You’ve been bitten by the lovebug, man.”
Brody made a rude sound in the back of his throat, cutting the jackass with an “as if” look. “Get real,” he muttered, trying to appear unconcerned, while inside, his heart rate kicked into overdrive, roaring through his head. Christ, was it really that obvious?
Eric’s shoulders lifted in a laughing shrug. “Hey, don’t blame me for the yearning state of your heart. I just call it like I see it.”
“You don’t see jack,” he snarled under his breath, wanting to wipe that knowing look off the bastard’s handsome face. “If I’m watching her, it’s only because it’s my job to protect her.”
Recalling their earlier conversation—and eager to steer the topic of discussion away from himself—he added, “You mentioned on the phone that there was something you wanted to talk about.”
“There is.” Holding Brody’s dark stare, Eric’s expression turned serious as he rubbed one hand across the rugged angle of his jaw, the sleeve of his T-shirt shifting to reveal the bottom edge of an intricate tattoo wrapping his thick bicep. “I want to help. I want to be a part of the investigation into the rogues and what happened with my sister.”
“We’re after your own family,” Brody scoffed, wondering what the guy was up to. “Looking to bring down your old man. We appreciate you stepping up to help Max, but what makes you think we’d trust you to help in our investigation?”
“Because I saved your friend’s life,” Eric pointed out, wearing a ghost of a smile. “And while I may be a lot of things, a traitor isn’t one of them. My loyalty is to the pack, not my father. Any sense of familial obligation I felt to the man, he managed to destroy a long time ago all on his own.”
“And how do we know you’re not just playing sides?” he countered for sheer argument’s sake. It was obvious the Bloodrunners, including himself, had already decided to trust Eric Drake. If they hadn’t, they never would have allowed Max to remain under the Lycan’s supervision.
“Playing sides?” Eric snorted in response to his question, crossing his brawny arms over his blue T-shirt covered chest.
“Do I look like the playful sort to you, Carter?”
“Yeah, you’re about as giddy as a rattlesnake, and just as ornery.”
Rolling his eyes, Eric muttered, “You’re too good for my ego, man.” The Lycan paused for a moment, once again watching the Doucets as he ran one hand over the short scrub of his dark hair, before blowing out a rough breath. “Look, I know it’s going to take time to learn to work together, but I wanted to let you know that the Runners aren’t alone in this any longer. You have support in the pack. There are others who feel like I do, they’re just too afraid to come forward and risk my father’s wrath. But we can keep an eye on things here, relay information that might be useful. There’s been a communication breakdown between the town and the Runners for too long. It’s time we put an end to it.”
“I’ll have to talk to the others,” he grunted.
Giving a confident nod, Eric smiled as he said, “You do that.” He knew damn well that the opportunity was too good for the Runners to pass up. “And speaking of how you need a better foothold in the information loop, I have some news.”
“What kind of news?”
“The kind that not many people know about yet. Not even Jillian.” His expression grim, Eric said, “The Pippa Stanton has gone missing
kind.”
Brody cursed under his breath, while dread settled heavily around his shoulders, weighing him down. “Do you know what happened?”
“Not a clue. There’s a small group that was asked by the League to search the surrounding woods, but nothing’s turned up so far.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Brody muttered, raking one hand through his hair before cutting a narrow look back at the Lycan. “And no doubt that your old man’s behind it.”
Eric’s brows drew together in a questioning frown. “I’m assuming he’s behind it, too, but do you actually know of any reason my father might target Pippa specifically?”
“Maybe,” Brody averred, rolling his shoulder. “Maybe not.”
There was silence for the beat of several seconds, and then Eric quietly growled, “Shit. You do know something, don’t you?”
Only something that had been passed on to him and the other Runners in confidence, that couldn’t be repeated. It was Pippa who had revealed the secrets about Drake’s past to Jeremy and Jillian the week before, telling them the story of how the Elder’s wife left him for a human. When Drake demanded his wife be hunted down and executed for her treachery, the League had refused. According to Pippa, he’d never forgiven the League for “turning their back on him in his time of need.” From that point on, his hatred and rage had consumed him, until he became the twisted, fanatical leader that he was today.
Instead of addressing Eric’s question, Brody asked one of his own. “Do you know when she was last seen?”
For a moment, Eric looked as if he’d press the issue, before shaking off his irritation. “Yeah,” he sighed. “It was last night, at a League meeting. Her sister called Graham when it started getting late and Pippa still hadn’t made it home.”
Damn, that wasn’t good. Brody had already been uneasy about bringing Michaela into the lion’s den, so to speak, risking the visit to Shadow Peak, but had felt a certain measure of confidence that Drake and his rogues wouldn’t dare try anything in broad daylight, when all eyes were on them. But knowing that he’d had the balls to target Pippa, another Elder, was proof that Drake’s madness had outweighed his reason. If he was willing to take out one of the most powerful members of the League, he’d be willing to risk anything.
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