by Bianca D’Arc
Her father was running the meeting, and she waited until they’d discussed all the pending business and he opened up the floor to new topics. Tracy walked forward, out of the shadows and into the center of the room, feeling every eye on her as she made them aware of her presence. She held her tongue until she was certain she had everyone’s undivided attention, then she spoke in a clear, ringing voice.
“As most of you know, the father of my baby came back earlier this week. He didn’t know I’d conceived, and it was my choice to hide the existence of his daughter from him until now.” She felt the disapproval radiating from some of the older members of the Pack, but she let it slide. She had more to say, and they all needed to hear it. “I don’t want anyone seeking any sort of retaliation on him for my choice. And, while I appreciate all the offers of help, and those of you who’ve felt the need to check how Em and I are doing, please let me assure you, we’re both fine, and right now, we need some time together. Alone.” Her Alpha bitch was coming out, and she let the growl come into her voice. “Anybody trespassing into my territory, again, without an express invitation, will face the consequences. My wolf is riled up enough without having to deal with busybodies all the time, okay?”
Now, that was probably a bit harsh, but all the concern sent her way over the past few days was really getting to her. Wolves were Pack animals, but right now, Tracy needed time alone with Emma to figure things out. It was clear Emma wasn’t comfortable with every last member of the Pack dropping by to stare at her. Maybe it was a cat thing, or maybe it was just a child who was very aware of being under scrutiny. Either way, Tracy didn’t think it was good for Em, and she wanted it to stop.
Having said her piece, she backed away before anybody could say anything. Actually, she thought they were all a bit stunned by her declaration, which served them right. Tracy had been a little too docile since she’d discovered she was pregnant. Well. That time was over. The mama wolf was in charge now, and everybody had better just watch out!
CHAPTER FOUR
Hank was miserable in Arizona. Oh, the people were nice enough, and he’d been welcomed—if not warmly, then at least with little hostility—by the Arizona Jaguar Clan. There weren’t that many of them, and they were a closely related, extended family group. Not a good breeding population, if they’d only mated with other jaguars, but this group had bred out a lot. There were more than a few human mates in the Clan, and judging by the power emanating even from the youngest members of the Clan, the jaguar spirit was strong here.
It would be a really good thing if Hank could somehow convince them quickly to ally with the much larger Jaguar Island group under Mark Pepard’s leadership, but he would play the long game if he had to. Mark had confided a bit of his plan to Hank. Mark was starting with Pax and Ari—fraternal twin brothers who had retired from the U.S. Navy SEAL teams and then gone into mercenary work. They had good reputations, but their willingness to work with other species of shifters and hire out for money was key. The money they earned went back to their Clan, for the most part. Mark had traced it…with some difficulty, which proved someone in the Clan had mad financial skills. Mark wanted all the highly skilled jaguars he could get to help protect the rest.
From all Mark had been able to discover, he believed the twins cared deeply about their people. If Mark could show those two brothers the life waiting for their small Clan on Jaguar Island, he might be able to get them all to come under the umbrella of his protection. But they were proud people, and cats liked to go their own way, more often than not. It was going to be a hard sell, but Mark had to try, and he’d sent Hank as his messenger or negotiator—whichever role was needed.
So far, he hadn’t had much success convincing the brothers to visit the island. He’d already stayed far longer in Arizona than he’d wanted. He had hoped to have this settled in a day or two, and it had already been almost a full week. Hank’s heart was still in Texas, but his body was in Arizona…and he didn’t want to be here.
By the same token, he didn’t want to fail in his mission either. So, when Pax and Ari invited him to sample the local nightlife, Hank took them up on the offer. The bar they took him to was typical of any roadhouse Hank had seen in this part of the country. Dusty floor. Battered furniture. Low lighting. Complete with pool tables in the back and a few booths along one wall.
Pax and Ari were greeted like regulars, and they claimed one of the big booths in a corner. Hank was impressed with the way they were treated. Sure, Pax and Ari were both huge guys with a deadly air about them, but the staff, and even some of the patrons, treated them with friendly welcome. That was something Hank hadn’t expected. Cats were usually somewhat solitary—for a reason. They weren’t known for their social skills, in general, though there were always exceptions. These twin behemoths appeared to be one of those rare exceptions.
They had beers in their hands before they even sat down, and Hank was, once again, impressed by both the speed of service and the genuine welcome they were receiving. He must have shown his surprise in some way because Pax was grinning at him as they sat in the corner where nobody without shifter hearing would have a chance of listening in on their conversation.
“We help out here, sometimes,” Ari explained, seeming to take pity on Hank’s confusion. “Whenever we’re home, we like to hang out here, and the troublemakers figure it out pretty quick and go elsewhere.”
“We don’t really enjoy bar fights that much, anymore,” Pax put in, snagging a bowl of pretzels from a nearby table and putting them in the center of theirs. “Grew out of that a long time ago.”
“I bet,” Hank agreed, reaching for a pretzel. He looked around the room again and realized the calm was likely deceptive. If the jaguar brothers weren’t around, this place was probably a lot more…uncivilized.
“It’s a little break for Mack,” Ari said, gesturing toward the very large bartender who was restocking the cooler. The human male was wearing a leather vest with a number of colorful patches, and had tattoos up and down both arms. Hank took one look and connected him with the rather bodacious Harley parked just outside.
“Yeah, sort of a vacation,” Pax agreed, chuckling. “He likes the place rough, but he claims it’s a nice change when we’re around for a bit. Lets him regroup, or something.”
“Mack was Recon,” Ari put in, keeping his voice low.
Hank knew all about the different types of elite military units. He’d been in a couple of different Air Forces around the world, in his time. That was one of the reasons he’d been tapped to make contact with the twins. They’d worked together—sort of—a few times. If being the pilot on some of their covert missions was working together, that is.
The first time they’d crossed paths, the three of them had immediately recognized the beast they had in common. It was a bond, of sorts. All three being jaguars, when jaguars were becoming increasingly rare in the world, even in shifter circles. They’d met up again, several times over the years, when work brought them together, but Hank hadn’t seen the twins since leaving the service, and that had been more than a few years ago.
“So, what’s it like, working for Pepard?” Pax asked, out of the blue, broaching the subject Hank had been sent here to discuss.
“Not bad. He’s a good man. A good Alpha. He’s taking the jaguar people in a new direction, and I believe in his vision,” Hank said, laying it all out there. As far as he was concerned, this mission had already dragged on too long. He took a long pull of his beer.
“I don’t know…” Ari said, drawing out the words. “I don’t know if our beasts were built for all that togetherness. It gets hard, sometimes, even with our small Clan. That’s why we still work for hire.”
“I understand that,” Hank told them. “Our need for territory of our own and the right to walk alone is something we all struggle with, but Mark knows it, probably better than anyone else. If you guys would just come take a look at what he’s built—”
“The island?” Pax cut off Hank’s
words. This was the first time they’d gotten this far in discussion. He’d been headed off more times by elders and children than he could count when he’d been trying to get to the important stuff. It was as if they were all testing how patient he could be. “Is he seriously inviting us to the island? I thought that was all Top Secret?”
“If you guys had let me talk before, you would’ve known I’d been sent here specifically to invite you to meet with Mark. On the island. I’m at your disposal to fly you there and back again. No strings.” Finally! He’d gotten the message delivered. Now, he’d have to wait to see what they decided.
Both brothers were frowning, apparently thinking hard, so Hank finished his beer and signaled the waitress for another round. In fact, when she came over, he added tequila shots to the order. He was feeling annoyed at being here so long when he really wanted to be back in Texas right now, working on convincing Tracy to let him be part of their daughter’s life.
When the waitress had left, Ari spoke. “We didn’t expect this. We thought you’d come to deliver some kind of ultimatum.”
Hank shook his head. “Mark’s not that kind of Alpha.”
“We’re beginning to see that,” Pax said, nodding. “This is unexpected. All the intel we had on him said he was utterly ruthless.”
“To his enemies, sure,” Hank agreed, tossing back the tequila. “But he sees all jaguars as family. His protective instincts run a mile wide. He wants to bring us all in, so we have a chance to rebuild our numbers and our strength as a people, so nobody is ever able to kill us off, almost to extinction, ever again.” That was almost verbatim from what he’d heard Mark say more than once.
“So, you believe he’s not just building a power base so he can lord it over all jaguars, like some kind of king or emperor. I mean, we know some of the other big cats have royalty, but we’re not like that. You know we’re not,” Ari said, watching Hank closely.
“I know. And so does Mark. The power structure he’s set up is according to the old ways. He’s not creating a dictatorship. Far from it.”
“If Mark’s Alpha, who’s his Beta?” Pax asked sharply.
“Do you know Nick Balam?” Hank countered, glad to see Mark’s security was holding.
For all intents and purposes, Mark was the only leader of the jaguar people, but that wasn’t really the case. He was the political leader, but Nick—who was ostensibly Mark’s head of security—was really the protector of the Clan. They shared power in a tradition that went back many, many generations of jaguars.
“Balam?” Both brothers jerked their heads back in shock, mirror images though they weren’t identical twins. Still, they had incredibly similar reactions, which probably made them good as a team in battle, Hank theorized.
“That’s an old and revered name among our people,” Ari said after a long pause. “But we don’t know Nick.”
“Heard of him, but never worked with him personally,” Pax put in.
“He’s newly mated, as is Mark. They are a stable team around which to rebuild our people,” Hank told the brothers, and he believed it with all his heart.
They talked a bit more about the island and the leadership, but Hank sensed he would get no further with the brothers that night. The shots kept coming, and though it took a lot to get a shifter drunk, Hank was well on his way by the time midnight rolled around. The brothers were probably deliberately trying to get him drunk, as some kind of interrogation technique, but Hank didn’t really mind. Everything he’d told them about the island and Mark’s offer was one hundred percent truthful, so there were no secrets to spill, even if they did manage to question him under the influence.
The brothers were matching him drink for drink, though. So, they were all pretty much hammered at one point in the evening. That’s when Hank let a few incautious words pique the brothers’ interest, much to his dismay once he sobered up.
Somehow, the twins had gotten the whole sorry story about Tracy out of him while he was drowning his sorrows. He thought maybe he’d even started whining at one point about the unfairness of it all. And he clearly remembered blaming the brothers and their stubborn refusal to cooperate with Hank’s mission for delaying him in getting back to his daughter and the woman who was, more than likely, his mate.
Hank had a hangover for the first time in years the next morning when he woke, and all of it came back to him in a split second. He hung his head and growled low at the depths to which he had sunk in the night. He probably had a bit of apologizing to do this morning, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. Not with the way his head was pounding.
Water. He needed a lot of water to fight the dehydration shriveling his brain. And a shower. He could smell the tequila and smoke on his clothes, and it made him want to retch. But his stomach stayed steady. Thank the Goddess for small mercies.
He stumbled his way to the bathroom and took a long shower, only coming out when he felt a little better. It took a while.
Hank wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the connecting door into the larger section of his hotel room to find he had uninvited company. Pax and Ari were sprawled in the two armchairs by the window, looking casual, with duffel bags at their sides.
Shit.
They were either planning to kill him and stuff his body in the bags—in pieces. Or, they were heading out on a mission, and he’d missed his chance to recruit them to the jaguar cause this time. Either prospect wasn’t a happy one.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, trying to sound casual as he entered the hotel room and began rifling through his own pilot’s case, looking for clean underwear.
“Yeah. With you,” Pax answered in a brisk tone. It was his words more than the tone that shocked Hank into looking at the man. He was grinning like the cat inside him had just caught a tasty morsel after a long and pleasant hunt.
“Seriously?” Hank had to be sure they weren’t just teasing him. And his head was still pounding a little after the night they’d had. “You want me to fly you to the island?”
“Yeah,” Ari answered for them both, placing his feet up on the edge of the bed, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Eventually.”
“First,” Pax copied his brother’s stretched out pose, “we’re going with you to Texas. No sense in letting you take on a whole werewolf Pack by yourself. You need us for backup.”
“I do?” Hank didn’t know whether to be alarmed, amused or just astounded by their presumption.
Both men were nodding at him. “Yes, boy-o, you definitely need our help,” Ari said.
“Most definitely.” Pax backed him up.
Hank wasn’t exactly sure how it all happened but they were airborne within the hour, heading back to Texas. He also wasn’t sure how the wolf Pack was going to feel about the incoming jaguar invasion, but he realized he had little choice in the matter. Cats were arbitrary creatures sometimes, and it seemed the twins had taken an interest in Hank’s tale of woe.
Pax stretched out in the back of the plane while Ari surprised Hank by wanting to sit in the co-pilot’s seat. What followed was an hour of flying where Hank fell into the role of flight instructor. It turned out that Ari had always had an interest in learning to fly and had, in fact, done a number of training sessions at a local airport in Arizona, but flying lessons were expensive, and most of the twins’ money went back to the Clan, to help support the younger and less experienced members of their extended family.
Hank didn’t mind showing Ari the attributes of the plane. Teaching other members of the Clan to fly was one of his more enjoyable hobbies. It seemed many jaguars had a fascination with flight, and many of the younger members of the Clan living on Jaguar Island could fly multiple craft—both fixed wing and helicopters.
Of course, Hank was aware that Ari could be setting him up. The cunning cat could be playing a totally different game, and Hank might wake up tomorrow morning to find the twins had stolen the jet out from under him. He hoped not. But, really, it would be better to know, now—before the
y got closer to the island—if he could trust them or not, so Hank didn’t see the harm in using this opportunity as a little test. He was a cat too, and cats liked playing games.
There would be many more tests before these cats—more dangerous predators than even most of their fellow jaguars—would be allowed to join the bigger Clan. Hank knew Mark had weighed the options carefully, calculating that the risk of inviting them into the heart of their new territory could pay off big in the end. If they weren’t trustworthy, the isolation of the island and the fact that all the Clan’s best hunters had been called back to be there while the brothers toured the island would play in their favor. Or so Mark hoped.
Frankly, having reacquainted himself with these two guys and gotten to know them a bit, Hank wasn’t so sure even their best could take them on and win. The twins had one thing to their advantage that most jaguars did not. They hunted as a pair. Always. Had from the day they’d been born. That was different from the usual solitary stalk most jaguars preferred, and it was the twins’ edge. It was part of what made them a very lethal team that had a reputation for always getting the job done, no matter how bleak the odds.
Hank just had to hope Mark knew what he was doing. Hank’s report, which was as detailed as he could make it, highlighted the twins’ unique abilities. He knew Mark, and especially Nick, would take it to heart and make preparations before they arrived at the island. The stopover in Texas was actually a really good thing, giving the Clan more time to prepare their welcome for the twin jaguars.
Hank had told Mark about Tracy and Emma when he’d called in this morning to report his success in getting the brothers to agree to a visit. Mark had graciously told Hank to stay in Texas for a few days, to try to set things right there. He’d also said he would begin the routine background checks for Tracy that would allow her clearance to visit the island. If she passed—which Mark thought a reasonable assumption—then he suggested that Hank try to get her to visit at the same time, if at all possible. Two birds, one stone, he’d said, though he’d amended it to be four birds, or maybe three and a half since Emma was so small.