Skin Walkers

by Susan A Bliler

  Tyce

  (Skin Walkers Book 15)

  By

  Susan A. Bliler

  Copyright © 2017 by Susan A. Bliler

  Smashwords Edition

  www.susanbliler.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Cover fonts, spine, and back cover done by:

  Cindy Hubbard

  www.cind-e-designs.com

  Cover art courtesy of:

  Natalie Hijazi

  nataliehijazi.com

  Editing done by:

  Leiah Cooper with

  So I Read This Book Today…

  http://soireadthisbooktoday.com/

  As always thanks to my Beta reader:

  Cindy Hubbard

  I couldn’t do this without you.

  Thanks for believing in me.

  ;o) ting

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidences are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Susan A. Bliler.

  Prologue

  “I’m going to bring that man to his fucking knees!” It wasn’t often that CEO and Dominant Skin Walker, Monroe StoneCrow, found himself seething from a personal slight, but currently, he was pissed. Recently, his beloved Skin Walker compound, StoneCrow Estates, was attacked, leaving many of his people injured and the compound itself heavily damaged. All his life, he’d dreamed of building a sanctuary for his people, this very sanctuary that currently thrived in the mountains of North Central Montana. Having his sanctuary breached by the enemy was the stuff of his worst nightmares. Worse, he’d had to rely on fellow Dominant Skin Walker Tyce Steele’s aid. The two Walkers were the only Dominants on record, both so primal they couldn’t reside in the same territory. It had been a great favor for Tyce to bring his Skin Walkers to StoneCrow in its darkest hour, but even that favor couldn’t override Tyce’s scathing reprimand.

  Sitting at his desk, with his Chief of Security, King Mulholland, staring at him with a worried look, Monroe snarled as he replayed Tyce’s words in his head.

  “If you spent a little more time running StoneCrow Estates like the Skin Walker fortress it should be, you wouldn’t have time to concentrate your efforts on the lovey-dovey affliction bullshit that’s been plaguing your facility. Perhaps you and a team should travel here to Apex and see how a Walker facility is supposed to be run.”

  Tyce had no idea who he was fucking with. Monroe StoneCrow didn’t take personal slights lightly, especially where a fellow Dominant was concerned—especially when the potshots were taken at StoneCrow Estates. His one and only goal was a peaceful existence where his Walkers could thrive. Tyce Steele had designs that were the polar opposite of Monroe’s intentions.

  Tyce Steele. The last name fit perfectly. Steele cared little whether the team of mercenaries that resided at his compound ever found their Angels. In fact, after Commander Conn Drago and his second in command, York McDonnough, had claimed their mates, York had left Apex to live at StoneCrow. Conn and Aries visited so often, they had their own residence on the Estate. It was a testament to Tyce’s disregard for Walker procreation. Tyce had an eye for one thing and one thing only. Money.

  Stocks, bonds, CD’s, investments, risky ventures. It was where Tyce gleaned his wealth and his excitement. Unlike Tyce, Monroe nurtured a few wise investments, but focused his efforts on the survival of his kind. A thriving Walker community was Monroe’s goal. He wanted happiness and true freedom for his kind while Tyce wanted wealth, and he wanted it at any cost. Granted, he’d fund a StoneCrow mission or two, but only if it was a sure thing, and only if he knew there’d be a favor to be repaid to him in the end.

  It’s about time the bastard gets knocked down a peg. Monroe steepled his fingers, smiling wickedly from behind his desk. “King, get me Jenny.”

  King’s confusion was clear as he turned from where he’d been eyeing the Estate out the window. “Jenny?”

  “Yes. I think it’s high time I sent a very special gift to one Mr. Tyce Steele.”

  King looked worried. “What kind of gift?”

  But from the way he angled his head, asking the question in a slow drawl, he knew King was aware of exactly what type of “gift” he’d be sending.

  King was already shaking his head. “And how in the hell could Jenny aid in that?”

  Pinning King with a dark gaze, Monroe grinned. “I think it’s time we find out if there are additional benefits to Dr. Arkinson’s meddling in the Walker affliction.”

  Jenny’s actions were something that both King and Monroe were well aware of, but it wasn’t something the Dominant Walker had ever addressed or even mentioned…until now.

  “Fuck!” King scrubbed a hand down his face. “You wouldn’t.”

  Lowering his chin to peer up at King from beneath drawn brows, Monroe smirked. “Wouldn’t I?”

  Chapter 1

  Three months later

  “M-Mr. StoneCrow?” Briel straightened her shoulders and fought to harden her tone, closing her hand more firmly around the phone receiver she had jammed to her ear. “It’s me, Briel Solomon. I met you once with…my father.” She stalled out, not wanting to give up too much information, but she needed help, and she needed it now.

  “Briel?” On the other end of the line, Monroe StoneCrow’s tone was hard, but he couldn’t mask the shock that laced his words. “Where are you?”

  The urgency in his tone sent shivers skittering up her spine.

  “I need your help.”

  Monroe asked again, this time more firmly, “Where are you, Briel?”

  She could hear movement in the background over the line, and it encouraged her to end the call quickly. “The General is dead,” she informed.

  “I know. Where are you? I’ll send a team to you. You need to come in. You’re not safe.”

  It was something she already knew. “I need money, not rescue. I’m done trusting anyone—especially your kind—but you owe my father. He died because of you, and your…” Too afraid to say anything over the line, she clipped out, “You know.”

  Monroe’s tone was icy when he demanded, “How do I get money to you if I don’t know where you are.”

  “Paypal. My account is,” she rattled off an e-mail address of an account she’d set up that day for this specific purpose. She’d have to transfer the money to her bank account to access it, but she could do that from anywhere. No one would find her, she was sure of it. “You owe us,” she ground out. “You owe my father!” Without another word, she slammed the phone down in one of the last phone booths in existence in Union Station. Stepping out of the booth, she took a moment to compose herself, eyes locked, as they had been the entire call, on the five-year-old replica of herself sitting with an ice cream sundae and swinging her feet merrily as she slurped chocolate syrup off her spoon. Briel used a trembling hand to dash away the tears that slid onto her cheeks. She didn’t want Fena to see her crying. The poor kid had already had it bad enough.

  Too late. Fena’s tongue stilled mid-lick as her wide amber eyes locked on Briel. “S-Sissy?”

  Briel plastered on a fake smile as Fena’s tremulous tone broke her heart a bit more. She beamed too brightly at her little sister. “Hey Bubba, how’s your ice cream?”

  Fena’s eyes narrowed on her so Briel blinked faster and bent, scooping Fena up and settling her onto one hip. “You wanna go home and build a tent cave?”

  Home! What a joke. They were staying in an elegant condo her father had purchased several years back. It was one of
several locations in the DC area that the General had demanded Briel memorize just a little over a year ago. It was almost like he knew his end was coming and he’d prepared as best he could to provide for his daughters in the only way he knew how. While the condo was elegant, it was nothing compared to their lavish estate on Kingman Lake. She missed the lake. City life was no life that Briel enjoyed. She was homesick something fierce. Worse, while her father had set up multiple city hideaways—as he’d called them—he hadn’t left behind any financial aid. Well, none that Briel or Fena could get their hands on any time in the near future. In fact, all Briel had found in the safe inside the condo was a slip of paper. On it was a simple note.

  Contact Monroe StoneCrow.

  A phone number was provided, and Briel had been reluctant to use it up until now.

  “Yeah!” Fena instantly brightened, drawing Briel’s attention back to her. “Tent cave!”

  Eyeing their surroundings, as she’d grown much too accustomed to doing, Briel hurried from Union Station with Fena still plastered to her hip. She hated this. She hated every single second of running because…well, because she had no idea what in the hell she was doing. The realization that she’d been sheltered from too much was never as glaringly obvious as it was now that she was thrust all alone into her father’s world of politics, military, money, and secrets. She squeezed Fena closer as they hit the street and she amended her thought. Not alone. And thank God for that, because if Fena wasn’t here to keep Briel focused, she’d probably already be dead.

  ***

  Monroe shoved up from his desk so quickly that his chair crashed back onto the floor. Slamming the handset of his desk phone back onto the receiver, he jammed his finger in the direction of his Chief of Security, who lounged in a chair near the door.

  “Tell me you’re still tracing all incoming and outgoing calls to the Estate.”

  The second Monroe shot out of his chair, King had stilled in the act of polishing his Desert Eagle with the hem of his shirt, eyes snapping up to watch the Dominant. In response to Monroe’s question, he dipped his head. “Absolutely.”

  The grin that swept over Monroe’s features was terrifying if simply for the fact that the Dominant Skin Walker rarely smiled. “The reckoning is here.”

  King lowered the hem of his shirt, stood, and slowly holstered his pistol. “Crow?”

  “General Solomon’s daughter has just come out of hiding.”

  Monroe had been searching for her for three months for two reasons. Firstly, her father had been a Skin Walker ally and Monroe was certain that the General’s recent death was in direct correlation with that fact. His second reason for hunting her down was far less noble than his desire to pay back the General’s loyalty by protecting his daughters. Still, it had to be done.

  After her father’s death, Briel had taken her sister, Fena, and disappeared. Smart girl, but she was equally as foolish. Monroe and the General had talked at length about what would happen to the General’s daughters in the event of his demise or disappearance. Monroe had no qualms about vowing protection and a home for the two females. The problem was, Briel apparently had other ideas, which was unfortunate. Not only because Monroe wanted to ensure her and her sister’s safety as he’d promised to the General, but Monroe knew that the place and the protection he had in mind for Briel and Fena would be second to none.

  Shock laced King’s tone when he breathed, “Holy shit!”

  Monroe hurried around his desk. “Find Remy! I want a team in the air five minutes ago. No contact. Just verification.” He stopped mere steps from King to bark. “I don’t want her lost. They stick to her like fucking glue until I send word otherwise.”

  “You’re sure it’s her? I mean…you’re certain she’s Tyce’s? This could all go wrong, and leaving her out there could get her killed.”

  Monroe’s lips twisted in a sinister grin. “It’s her.” His eyes sparked with determination. “LILLY!” he bellowed at his personal assistant, who also happened to be King’s mate. “Get Tyce Steele on the line!” He turned and rushed back to his desk, bending to jerk his jacket from where it rested beneath his downed chair. “King, get a chopper ready. We’re going to Apex!”

  The phone on his desk buzzed and he jerked it up, putting it to his ear before the other end had even stopped ringing. When it did, a hard tone greeted him. “This is Steele.”

  Monroe smirked at the greeting. Steele. “Tyce.” He intentionally used the Dominant’s first name to irk him. “It’s Monroe.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m on my way to Apex. I’ll be there within the hour.” He hung up and smiled, feeling a little too excited over what was about to happen.

  Chapter 2

  Back in their condo, Briel distracted Fena by following through on the promise of a tent cave they made on the bed by tying the oversized bedspread to the tall pillars of the four-poster bed before crawling underneath.

  In the dark, Briel held Fena close and tried to ignore the fear and uncertainty that swirled in her belly. It made her feel sick and scared, and she struggled to hide both because she knew if she was feeling these emotions, then Fena would be worse if she even suspected that Briel had no clue what she was doing. Warm breath fanned her cheek as Fena turned, blinking up at her in the cover of their “cave”.

  “I wanna go home.”

  Swallowing down the instant response of, ‘me too’, Briel tried to sound encouraging. “What? Aren’t you having fun? Look at all the things we got to do. We rode the metro and saw Union Station!”

  Honestly, they hadn’t done much at all, because Briel was too afraid to be out in the open. The General had warned her that, if anything happened to him, people would come after her and Fena next. One of the downfalls of being his daughter, he’d joked. She hadn’t found it funny then and she certainly didn’t now.

  The General. She ground her teeth against the memory of her father. They’d never gotten along, and in testament to her defiance, she’d never called him daddy, or father, or even Ben. No, he’d always been the General to her and she found it hard even now to muster any regret. By mere association, she and Fena were on the run. She grinned bitterly at the memory of his first warning of impending trouble, remembering how she’d argued that it was ridiculous.

  “I don’t know you,” she snapped. “Yes, you’re my father, but you’ve never been there. Not growing up, not when mom died, not after. Even now all you’ve done is give me the lakeside estate, and only because you wanted me to raise Fena for you.”

  She knew better than to expect shock, remorse, sadness, or any other emotion from her father. He wasn’t built like that. Expressionless, his eyes glinted with the only emotion she’d ever seen from him, that spark of annoyance that told her he’d had just about enough of her sass.

  “I’m aware of my shortcomings, child.”

  Child! Ugh! She hated how he called her that. She was twenty-nine years old for Christ’s sake!

  “Do as I say, and everything will be fine.” He turned dismissively and strode to the door in that straight-backed fashion that spoke of too many years in the military.

  Angry, Briel hurled at his back, “Fine? Fine! You’re talking about your own death and what we’re supposed to do after that! How would everything be fine? Do you even care about how Fena ends up?”

  The General only looked over his shoulder with a bored expression. At least it was something. “Don’t be dramatic. She has you.”

  “I’m her sister!” Briel jabbed a finger in his direction. She knew that, because she was a writer and worked from home, it made it easier for him to justify leaving Fena with her. “You’re her father. You’re the one who’s supposed to be there. She needs you, not me!”

  His expression blanked and his cheek twitched just under his eye. It only ever did that when he thought of her, Fena and Briel’s mother. Quietly, he bit out, “It’s what she’d want.” He blinked and snapped back into his emotionless façade before commanding more fir
mly, “Do as I’ve said, Briel.”

  Then he was gone, and Briel was left blinking back tears as she stared at the empty doorway.

  That was how he’d said goodbye. He’d used her name for the first time in as long as she could remember, then left without so much as an ‘I love you’ or a kiss and admission of love for Fena.

  With her mother gone, the General signed over the title of the family’s vacation home on Kingman Lake to Briel. It was an immaculate Estate with more rooms than Briel knew what to do with and a boat dock just out the grandiose double front doors. She’d only accepted because the place reminded her of her mother, and she couldn’t bear the thought of refusing the General and having him sell the place to someone else. Fena and the lake house were the only things the General had ever given her. Sure, he’d tried to indulge her by sending her money every month, but she’d never accepted a dime. She’d been determined to make her own way, and even when she struggled, she still refused his help.

  The day she moved into the lake house, the General arrived with Fena in tow. He’d studied the boxes of Briel’s belongings in the foyer with an indifference that was irksome. But, when he made to leave without Fena, Briel had stopped him. Without so much as a glisten in his eyes, he informed her that he had no time nor means to raise a five-year-old girl. He’d waved to the house and offered, “Consider it a trade.” Then he’d left without even looking back. Poor Fena stared at the closed door and then up at Briel. It wasn’t a trade. Fena was worth so much more than some stupid-ass lake house.

  The two had been together ever since, and while the General sent checks monthly for Fena’s care and keeping, Briel ripped up every single one. She’d keep the house, but the General could shove his child support up his ass! She and Fena got by on what Briel made from her writing, and it helped immensely that there was no mortgage to pay. Yeah, there were lean months when book sales weren’t so hot, but still she refused to accept any financial assistance from him. She was determined that they’d make it on their own.