Wanted: Fevered or Alive

by Long, Heather

  “Word about Dorado has made it back to Washington, but only in muted form.” Stanley took a leaf from Jed’s demeanor and jumped right into the matter. “We’ve received new orders to be on the lookout for individuals matching the description of Harrison Miller and his men.”

  “They’re dead,” Micah stated flatly. “All save for the doppelganger, whom is probably hiding amongst your men at the fort.”

  Stanley’s expression didn’t so much as ruffle at the blunt hostility in Micah’s manner. “You are correct, about the disposition of those men.”

  Jason’s attention snapped to the colonel.

  More are coming, At least three we know of—one in particular you will remember. He was one of your targets.

  “We have a new problem, it seems.” Jed stood between the chairs where Jo and Scarlett sat. The position wasn’t lost on anyone. He’d protect the wives and the children first—it was the way of things, the way he’d raised his sons.

  “Define problem,” Sam split his attention between their father and the colonel. With or without Dorado’s completion, he remained a marshal to his core and he had a family of his own to protect. The situation would get messier sooner rather than later.

  “We have three problems traveling here…”

  “Together? Where did you get the information?” Suspicion practically vibrated in Cody’s tone and he stared at the colonel as though sizing up his prey. The behavior was odd, considering Stanley had some knowledge of the mountain, Quanto, and the Fevered who grew up there. Still, the wolf brother trusted so few and it seemed Stanley had been eliminated from that number.

  “How far away are they?” Scarlett added. “If you just received word, they could already be here…”

  Jo stood at that, her clipped British accent cutting through the softer drawls. “That means we need to have more of us with the children…”

  The room erupted with his brothers and the Morning Stars throwing out more questions. Voices raised as they each sought to be heard. Colonel Stanley didn’t even attempt to quiet them, instead he met Jason’s gaze.

  The three we received word on are Masterson, Blade and Quinn. Despite his practiced attempts at keeping his thoughts organized enough to speak to Jason as if Jason were listening, Stanley’s mental voice remained stilted as though he attempted to hold back information. His need for privacy was one Jason had always attempted to respect.

  Jason frowned, absently tracing one of the threads. Quinn doesn’t work for Adam MacPherson. Whatever Stanley buried, it had nothing to do with the mysterious bounty hunter. He pulled back from trying to follow the threads to their base.

  What do you know about Quinn? Stanley shifted, backing up a pace as Jimmy crossed between them and broke the eye contact. Not that Jason needed it to keep the channel of communication open.

  Rumors. Innuendo. Legend. Nothing concrete. No physical sightings. No discussions with anyone who’s seen him. He could very well be that—a cautionary tale to keep the locals in line. Jason had tracked a fair number of MacPherson’s agents up and down the eastern seaboard. Nothing truly tied the mysterious Quinn to MacPherson beyond the drunk ramblings of a handful of low level employees.

  We need something concrete. You need go north—

  Jaw tight, Jason shook his head. No. Awareness swept over him and he caught Sam’s studious regard. His older brother’s eyes narrowed and he glanced from Jason to the colonel and back. Sam’s instincts were sharp—sometimes too sharp.

  “Is yelling working for any of you?” Jed’s hard-voiced demand had an effect. An uneasy silence blanketed the crowd. Shorter tempers seemed to be plaguing everyone. Mariska clenched her fists so tightly, blood oozed from the creases of her hand. The temperature in the room itself had risen, the stuffy level of the heat almost smothering. No sooner did Jason note the sweat trickling down his back, than he saw Sam put a hand on Scarlett’s shoulder. Her eyes reflected the twin candles of flames in the center.

  Anger.

  Fear.

  Distrust.

  Alienation.

  Knowing a person’s thoughts didn’t always give him insight into their emotional state. Words dipped in wickedness often times sounded the same as those dipped in generosity. Body language told him a lot. They had more problems than these incoming three.

  “Three—wait—there are three new people in Dorado already.” Buck glanced at him. “The McKennas?”

  “Yes, they’re new.” Jason answered. “However, they aren’t the three the colonel is looking for.”

  “Are you sure?” Cody swung around to face him, the gold ring around his blue irises a constant reminder of the wolf inside.

  “Absolutely.” He’d scanned them. They didn’t know MacPherson. They hadn’t known anything about Dorado. Their only thoughts were to find a place, dig in, and try to ride out whatever danger hunted them. They might have troubles of their own that would need to be dealt with at some point, but today was not that day.

  “Fine.” Cody nodded, but didn’t look away. “You know who the colonel is looking for?”

  Micah gave a little jerk next to him and Sam straightened. He had the full attention of both of his brothers. Jed didn’t look at him once, he was too busy glaring at the colonel. Jason would feel sorry for Stanley, except the colonel had known exactly what he’d asked of Jason the first time he’d sent him on a mission. At fifteen, Jason had been proud of the responsibility, but that had been the boy. The man knew better.

  “I know one of them for certain and the other by reputation. The third is a rumor, and I don’t think it’s true in this case. In no other tales have I heard of Quinn working with anyone.” If anything, the best he’d heard of Quinn was when he killed, it was clean, swift, and merciful—and never with collateral damage.

  “I think we can have this conversation later.” Stanley made a slashing gesture with his hand. He wanted Jason to be quiet.

  In this instance, his silence would only harm his family. Declining to follow the colonel’s request, Jason considered what he knew of the others. “Blade is the one I know best. He’s a killer, pure and simple. A mallet. His master sets him to a job and he doesn’t stop until it’s completed. The best thing you can say about him is he’s creative, and the worst is that he doesn’t have any compunction about killing anyone who gets in his way.”

  Everyone focused on him; he had their undivided attention.

  Stanley glared, his mouth a thin line.

  “Blade’s about five and half feet in height. He’s a squirrelly guy and not the first one you’d think of as being dangerous. He’s mastered the art of looking harmless—and helpless. He looks younger than he actually is, but he’s at least thirty-five years old. I couldn’t trace an actual birthdate for him. His ability is to blend—and when I say blend, I mean this man can lean against a tree and become a part of it. You won’t be able to see him. If he has the patience—and I’ve seen the evidence that he does—he can lie in wait for hours or days to get his target.”

  “Would it change his scent?” Mariska had twisted to face him, and Cody held one of her abused hand in his while he wrapped a strip of cloth around the damage she’d done.

  “I don’t know. I don’t work with scents and I’ve never dealt with shifters—at least not directly. It is a possibility that you will be our best way of finding him if you know his scent.” Jason considered all of his information. “He uses pretty much any type of weapon—if it’s handy and he needs it, he’ll use it. There was one ugly rumor that he enjoyed torturing his victims prior to killing them, and I have my suspicions that not all of the deaths attributed to him were assigned.”

  “You think he likes to kill.” Sam blew out a breath, a look of intense concentration on his face.

  “I believe so, yes. But I have no way to confirm that supposition one way or another.” A muscle in Jason’s eyelid began to twitch in time to the lancing agony in his head. The heat in the room had begun to abate, but not enough. If fewer people were present, he
might dare to lower the temperature, but that came with its own risks. Resisting the urge to loosen his shirt, he forced his focus back to the issue at hand. “Masterson is a thug. What ability he has seems limited to reading objects. Useful, but inconsistent. He may just be coming to back up Blade and confirm his kills.”

  “And you’re positive they’re not with this third one?” Sam liked his data catalogued and neat. In this, he and Jason were very much alike.

  “I cannot say that with absolute certainty, no. Nothing I know of any of them suggests Quinn would be a participant. If Quinn is on the way here, he may have his own agenda and it may have nothing to do with us.” He cycled through the available facts, parsing what he knew against what they suspected and finally what they could only theorize about.

  “Can Delilah?” Scarlett asked, and it threw some of the attention off of him, but not for long. She looked at Buck’s wife. “You lived among them. Can you guess what they might want?”

  The siren shook her head. “You have to remember, I only saw a few of Father’s people when I was with him and spoke to them rarely, if at all.” Of course she hadn’t, her ability to persuade and captivate could easily have taken MacPherson’s powerbase away from him. Using fear, intimidation—and twisted affection—he’d kept Delilah contained until he needed to wield her like a weapon. Taking her away had to have inflicted significant damage. That knowledge satisfied Jason.

  “I think we’re assuming we are the target because we have a large concentration of Fevered here, however, very few know just how many Fevered are on the property—save one. To the best of our reckoning, the one who might have given that information to them hasn’t left the region long enough to deliver it…” Jason had yet to figure out why Ryan lingered, but the doppelganger’s presence could be why MacPherson sent others.

  “Oh. You think they’re hunting Ryan?” Sympathy and concern colored Delilah’s voice. She actually sounded worried about the doppelganger.

  “Has MacPherson ever liked to lose control of those he believes are his?” It wasn’t a kind question, but sweat had soaked through the back of his shirt and the pain hammering in his skull left dark spots dancing across Jason’s vision.

  “No,” came her soft response. “By your reasoning, they may very well be looking for me.”

  “Or me,” Jo covered Delilah’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Does it really matter what these killers are looking for?”

  “No,” Micah said grimly and the sentiment echoed through the room. “If they come here...”

  “They won’t leave.” Jimmy voiced the common belief. “We do what we do—we take care of ours.”

  “I need to get back to Dorado.” Jason straightened. “I’ll let you know if we have any trouble.” It was too damn hot. His stomach revolted between the temperature and the pain. Not waiting for any acknowledgement, he headed out of the room and diverted toward the kitchen doors. It would buy him some time if the others ‘followed’ him. The breeze offered relief—even the damp warmth of spring was significantly cooler than the stuffy room.

  “Mr. Kane.” Colonel Stanley’s vocal whip cracked the air behind him. “Information is to be contained, that was your assignment—and your orders.”

  Not turning, Jason put his hat on and concentrated on keeping his voice calm. Awareness swept over him of two very familiar minds closing in on his location. His brothers were within earshot. So be it. “I do not take orders from you anymore, Colonel. You asked for my assistance in a matter that would have eventually impacted my family—and one favor led to another and then another until you’d carefully constructed a web of plausible deniability, shrouded in the task of keeping my family safe.” The pain in his head receded inch by inch and the breeze continued to cool his overheated body. It gave him the clarity he craved. “Based on all current assumptions and available data, my family needs that information to defend themselves. I will contain or release it as I deem necessary.”

  “I can have you clapped in irons, you know that?” The low hiss of Stanley’s threat didn’t earn him any friends.

  “You’re not touching our brother, Colonel,” Sam drawled in a too calm voice. The tone promised danger, but only to those who understood Sam. “You’re still a guest on my father’s property. It would serve you well to remember that.”

  It would be simple enough to turn and change Stanley’s mind for him, scramble the memories up and send him on his way. Except, he was a friend—an ally—and for that he was owed some courtesy. Still, he wouldn’t be taking Jason anywhere.

  “Samuel, this not really your concern.” Stanley faced off with his brothers, and Jason left them to it. If Sam and Micah bought him time, he could get his horse and get the hell off the ranch. The itch between his shoulder blades increased. He needed to be in Dorado. The longer he delayed, the larger the window of opportunity for whomever or whatever might be out there.

  * * *

  He managed to get his horse saddled and a dozen paces from the barn before Sam caught up to him. Unsurprised by his elder brother’s pursuit, Jason kept his horse to a walk until Sam’s mare, Corona, matched him stride for stride.

  They rode in silence for several minutes, following the winding trail past the paddocks. His reprieve lasted only until they were out of range and didn’t risk being overheard.

  “I have questions.” His eldest brother’s direct approach and declaration didn’t surprise Jason, only that it took him time to broach the subject. Of course, after Colonel Stanley’s visit, Sam probably believed he had no choice.

  “You won’t like my answers.” He scanned the trail ahead of them, better to stay out of Sam’s head and let him ask the questions his way. The hot spike of pain he’d endured for the last few hours began to abate, but only lessening to a dull ache. Persistent headaches had been common when he was much younger. Their reoccurrence could signal a cause for concern, but as long as he could function, it would have to do.

  “I don’t have to like the answers.” The weight of Sam’s gaze pressed down on him. “I do have to have your answers.”

  They were all so furious about Kid, about Jason’s lies or at least about his lack of being forthcoming. The anger was a palpable sourness to every interaction—when they bothered to speak to him at all. Recognizing the discomfort of his presence wasn’t hard, nor was absenting himself so they could do what needed to be done. Jason was well-suited to the task of overseeing Dorado and protecting his family from that angle.

  “Ask,” he nodded. “If that’s what you need to do.”

  Sam reined in his horse. “Will you answer me?”

  Allowing his horse two more steps before turning the gelding and meeting Sam’s gaze, Jason sighed. Eye contact was unavoidable and Sam would need it in order to believe him. Concentrating on the humming noise until it blotted out all external thoughts, Jason complied. “Yes, I will answer.”

  Surprise knitted the line between Sam’s brows and he nudged his hat upward with a sigh. “Well, hell, I expected more of a battle.”

  “You said you wanted answers, not an argument.”

  “Funny,” Sam chuckled, but his humor was short-lived. “Let’s ride and I’ll ask, you said you had to get back to Dorado.”

  Appreciating the concession, Jason nodded and rode on while he waited for Sam to continue. After they’d ridden for several minutes in silence, he glanced at him. “You had questions?”

  “You’re not reading my mind.” The unexpected response cut him.

  “No.” Fixing his gaze ahead. “That would be impolite.”

  “Didn’t stop you from doing it before…”

  “Some habits become necessary to survival. Should I be expecting a threat from you?” His question struck a mark.

  “Dammit, Jason, what the hell kind of question is that?”

  “One based on risk assessment. You were surprised I wasn’t merely reading your mind. I only scan others if I feel it is necessary for my safety or the safety of those near to me.” All truth,
but only half of it—sometimes he couldn’t shut out their thoughts. He’d worked damn hard to earn a little peace; he didn’t plan to sacrifice it now.

  “So in your own way, you’re trusting me by not reading my mind?” Because no sarcasm framed the words, Jason nodded.

  “That is one way to look at it.”

  “You have another?” Wry amusement colored Sam’s question, but instead of waiting for a response he sighed. “When did you start working for the colonel?”

  “The summer I turned fifteen.”

  The silence that followed echoed more loudly than a gunshot in church. Sam faltered long enough that Jason traveled several paces alone before he caught him back up. “What the hell did he have you doing at fifteen?”

  Unfortunately, it would be a difficult question to answer despite the simple, straightforward nature of the wording. “Initially, he asked me to gather information from two senators prior to a vote on military funding.” Both men had been compromised, their loyalty having been purchased lock, stock, and key vote. They were the swing votes on a committee that would have granted a war contract to an ironworks that didn’t exist. The complicated layers of the lie, and the intricate buffers between the parties involved suggested a larger game.

  “Did Pa have any idea?” For the barest second, doubt twisted in his last three words.

  “No.” Jason shook his head swiftly and let out a half-laugh of disbelief. “Pa would have shot the colonel if he’d known what he wanted me to do. Pa had no idea, Sam. None of you did.”

  “You were supposed to be with Ma’s parents that summer…”

  “Yes, and nearly every summer after that. I was rarely there for more than a couple of weeks. It served a suitable story to get me back east and then I would travel to whatever task the colonel needed me to perform. When I enrolled at Harvard, it made maintaining that piece of the deception easier.”