"Thanks, Mr. Winkler." Jason stood and nodded to his Packmaster.
* * *
"Grand Master, Pruitt may be part of the supply chain that Tanner had going. Those drugs and most of the animals had to come through Mexico."
"You know we don't have a good way to police some of the Packs in Mexico," Weldon Harper growled over the phone. "It's just too dangerous in some areas. Most of them obey, but there are outlaws. It wouldn't surprise me if Tanner wasn’t funding them through his illegal hunting operation. I didn't get as much as I'd like from him."
"Too bad he's dead," Winkler muttered. "Do you have anyone who can track Pruitt?"
"I've got one of my trackers in. Do you have anyone I can put with him? If you do, I'll fly him through Dallas."
"I can send Grady."
"Good. I'll have Clayton on a plane by tomorrow."
* * *
Ashe stood in line outside the theatre complex in a Dallas suburb with Marco, waiting to buy tickets to a summer action film. Ashe was hoping Trajan would come along, but Winkler's Second had work to do. Jackson Pruitt had come, though. Ashe wasn't sure what to think of the young werewolf; Jack wasn't Sali, whom Ashe had known all his life. New friendships were always difficult for Ashe. He had to find something to talk about, so common ground might be discovered. Jackson at times seemed distracted. Haunted, perhaps. Nevertheless, Winkler had handed Marco a wad of cash and told him to take Ashe and Jackson out to dinner and a movie that Friday evening. Dinner had been at a popular steakhouse, and then they'd driven to a nearby theater.
"So, you're a shapeshifter," Jackson said as Marco asked for three adult tickets at the window.
"Yeah." Ashe stuck his hands into the pockets of new jeans. He didn't feel comfortable talking about the bumblebee bat in private. Talking about it in public, albeit quietly, made Ashe particularly uneasy.
"Don't say those things in public." Marco placed a hand on Jackson's arm before handing out tickets for the film.
"Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Jackson became defensive.
"Would you talk about yourself in public?" Marco's low growl at Jackson surprised Ashe. Marco seldom became so upset. Not since high school, anyway.
"Sorry, man," Jackson hung his head.
"Come on, I'll buy popcorn," Ashe sighed.
* * *
"That wasn't bad," Marco said as he, Ashe and Jackson walked out of the theatre two hours later. The action adventure film had been more entertaining than Ashe originally thought. As they walked, Ashe searched the parking lot for their vehicle; Marco had borrowed one of Winkler Security's unmarked vans to drive to the restaurant and theatre. Winkler's business owned a fleet of them; most marked with the logo, a few not.
Lights mounted on tall, steel poles illuminated the parking lot as they made their way toward the van, but the large lot was still dim to Ashe's eyes. Ashe slid the side door of the van back, preparing to climb in while Marco and Jackson loaded into the front.
"Hold it right there," two men with guns climbed out of a car parked next to the van. "You," one of them, a tall man with close-cropped hair, waved his gun at Jackson, "get in the car and nobody gets hurt."
Marco, standing on the opposite side of the van, growled. That spelled one thing to Ash—Marco wasn't growling low; this was an angry growl from one werewolf to another.
"Shut up or you'll die," the other werewolf snapped at Marco. This would-be kidnapper was shorter and shakier than the one with short hair.
"Don't hurt them, Hicks," Jackson had his hands up, pleading with the shorter male. Ashe had seconds, perhaps. His gaze was locked on Hicks' gun, which was pointed at Marco. He could try to get Marco on the other side of the van and then attempt to pick up Jackson, or he could grab both werewolf assailants at once, since they were very close together.
Marco, I'm getting them. I'll take them back to Winkler's kitchen. Have somebody meet me there, Ashe sent. He then went to mist and lifted both Hicks and his shorthaired partner before racing toward Winkler's home.
Chapter 8
"What the?" Jackson shouted as Ashe and both men from his father's Phoenix Pack disappeared.
"Shut up and get in the van!" Marco yelled, jerking his cell from a pocket. Climbing into the van and starting it, he had Winkler on the phone as he raced out of the parking lot.
"Winkler, two wolves were here trying to grab Jackson. Ashe is bringing them to your kitchen. They're both armed! Gotta go." Marco punched the end call button and screeched out of the theatre parking lot with Jackson hanging on, frightened and shaking in the passenger seat.
"What happened?" Jackson shouted as Marco raced toward the highway.
"Can't talk," Marco hissed. "Just hold on and I'll try to get us there in one piece."
* * *
"Don't hit Ashe," Winkler growled at Trajan and three other guards. He and Trajan were the only ones who knew how Ashe would arrive. The others were blinking in confusion at an empty kitchen. All five were armed with rifles. Winkler wished at that moment he had mindspeech—he'd tell Ashe to release his prisoners in the floor and remain mist so he wouldn't be placed in danger. "And don't kill unless you're forced to," Winkler added. "We need to do some questioning."
"What are we looking for, boss?" Grady cast a puzzled glance at the Dallas Packmaster.
"They'll be here soon enough," Winkler said. "Raise your rifles and remember what I said."
* * *
Ashe barely paid attention to the two werewolves inside his mist. He was worried over the same thing that concerned Winkler—getting shot if he appeared in the kitchen with the other two. He was almost there; he could see the roof of Winkler's mansion. I'll drop them in the kitchen, he sent to Winkler. I'll stay mist and meet you in my bedroom.
Ashe thought that best, in order to keep anyone else from seeing what he truly was. And to keep from being shot, he added to himself. His passengers screamed in terror when he flew through the roof of Winkler's home, then screamed twice more as he dropped through the ceilings of two more floors. Get ready! Ashe shouted mentally and dumped two werewolves in the kitchen floor. Gunfire erupted behind him as he zipped through the house toward his bedroom.
* * *
Winkler came upstairs with Marco half an hour later, shirtless and with a bandage on his right shoulder. Ashe wanted to slink away. He'd gotten the Dallas Packmaster injured.
"It's nothing," Winkler sighed at Ashe's expression. "We've got them locked up."
"They're from the Phoenix Pack. The shorter one recognized Jackson," Ashe said. "I think they were trying to kidnap him."
"Probably," Winkler agreed. "Trouble is; Dominic Pruitt isn't in Phoenix right now. His Second is running things and he says Dominic didn't tell him where he was going or when he'd be back. Now, as a Packmaster myself, that's generally a problem. If Trajan doesn't know where I am and can't get in touch with me, then I've been kidnapped or I'm dead. I don't think Dominic Pruitt is either one of those things. As soon as Hicks and Burton are conscious again, we'll ask questions. The Grand Master wants to know what those answers are, and pretty quick."
"Is Jackson okay?" Ashe slid off his bed.
"He's fine—his mother and Jason are talking to him now," Marco said. "He's not sure what he saw, and some of the wolves downstairs are asking questions."
"What was I supposed to do?" Ashe sighed and paced.
"What you did. Ashe, we'll have to keep Jackson hidden until we know the threat from his father is over," Winkler explained. "And that may mean a move." Ashe watched the Dallas Packmaster closely. Lines of pain formed around Winkler's mouth.
"Doctor Lang available?" Ashe asked, suddenly concerned.
"He'll stop by when his shift at the fire department is over," Winkler said. "I'll be fine until then."
"Just a graze," Marco agreed. "Bullets bounce off the boss."
"Good," Ashe said. "I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to take them."
"Son, you did fine. Stop worrying about it," Winkler patte
d Ashe's shoulder. "Want anything to eat or drink?"
"Come on, we'll find a sandwich downstairs," Marco coaxed.
"All right." Ashe walked downstairs with both men. He was sitting at the kitchen island having a roast-beef sandwich when David Lang walked in. Winkler didn't even stop eating while Dr. Lang cleaned out the wound and bandaged it again.
"I'd ask if you wanted something for pain, but I know better," Dr. Lang laughed.
"It'll be healed in the morning," Winkler waved the doctor-turned-paramedic off. "Now, what I really wanted to say, Ashe, is that since Dominic Pruitt knows where we are, we'll be traveling to my beach house in Port Aransas tomorrow. We'll stay there for a little while, I think, until we can get this sorted out. You'll get to see your parents and friends on weekends if you want. I'd prefer that you stay at the beach house with me during the week. It's right on the gulf, so it shouldn't be a hardship."
"And you won't be getting out of your exercises, we have a weight room there and you and Marco can run on the beach," Trajan walked in, grinning. "How's the shoulder?" He asked Winkler.
"Fine." Winkler huffed. "Grady is meeting someone here tomorrow afternoon, so he won't be traveling with us. Pick at least six to come along, and let Jason, Marcie and her boys know they're coming too. Those two didn't know where Pruitt was; he just called and sent them after Jackson. So, we're at a loss, still, on that end."
"Will do, boss." Trajan set about making a roast-beef sandwich for himself, asked the doctor if he wanted one, made an extra and set out soft drinks for both.
* * *
"I sent Orville to Cordell," Trajan grinned. "Trace will head down to Port A as soon as Orville gets there. Gene's coming and I have Ace, Gabe, Spencer and Nick all packing bags. Told Marco to come along, too. Just in case."
"Sounds good," Winkler agreed. "Never hurts to have an extra or two. Jason and Marcie will move into one of the extra houses in Star Cove. Put Ace and Gene in next door to watch those boys of hers." Trajan nodded. He was on the boss' wavelength. Winkler hadn't gotten as far as he had or stayed alive because he trusted or believed everybody. Plus, the Grand Master wanted Winkler closer to the border, in case there was trouble. Winkler's jet would be parked at the Corpus Christi Airport and kept at the ready.
"We'll leave first thing in the morning. Have those two from the Phoenix Pack ready to go to the Grand Master before then."
"Already taken care of," Trajan nodded. "Got six of ours going with them in one of the bigger vans. Did you get everything out of them that you wanted?"
"With a little help," Winkler nodded. "I asked Wlodek for a little fanged assistance. Since somebody was already in the states that I know, he dropped by. Looks like he's gonna be with us for a little while. At Wlodek's orders." Trajan noted the set of Winkler's mouth and didn't ask questions about the why of it.
"Where is he now?" Trajan asked instead.
"Grabbing a few supplies," Winkler said. "He'll be here before dawn and we'll transport him in a body bag. He'll look like luggage."
"Until sundown," Trajan snickered.
"Yeah. There's always that."
* * *
"Dad, Marcie's boys came to Dallas," Ashe informed his father. He'd called his father's cell, since his mother was likely in bed already. It was after midnight and Ashe had just finished packing for the trip. "And then two of their father's wolves showed up to kidnap Jackson, who's still seventeen. Winkler and the Grand Master want him hidden and out of harm's way until they can get everything sorted out, so we'll be down there in the morning. Winkler's putting Marcie, Jason and her two boys in one of the empty houses in the new addition, and the rest of us will be staying at Winkler's beach house in Port Aransas. I'll get to come home on weekends if I want."
"Son, how bad do you think the Phoenix Packmaster wants that boy?" Aedan wanted to know how much security they'd need at night in case Dominic Pruitt discovered where his youngest son was being kept.
"I'd say he wants him back pretty bad; he sent two wolves with guns after him." Ashe didn't want to tell his father about his involvement in the incident. Or about the trip to D.C. He'd let Winkler handle that. If Winkler wanted.
"Where are those wolves now, Son?"
"Chained up and on their way to the Grand Master in the morning," Ashe said. "I think he wants to do more questioning."
"Son, we've missed you. It'll be good to have you back."
"Yeah. I missed you, too."
* * *
Ashe stared at what looked to be a body bag that Trajan and Marco were loading into the jet. It wasn't going on with the luggage; this was carried into the passenger section of the jet and they were handling it carefully. Several locked coolers were also loaded onto the jet. The blond werewolf with ice-blue eyes was coming, as was Gene, whom Ashe had already met. He was also introduced to Gabe and Spencer, the werewolf brothers, and Nick, a short, black-haired werewolf he hadn't seen before.
Gene had taken charge of Marcie, Jason, Jackson and Dustin. Dustin wanted to be called Dusty, and Ashe thought he was doing his best to fit in with Winkler's Wolves. It made him wonder if Dusty wanted to become a permanent member of the Dallas Pack. Trajan promised to start training Dusty in martial arts with Marco soon. Ashe guessed that he'd have to be stronger and in better shape before Trajan considered him for that sort of training.
After landing in Corpus Christi, Ashe climbed into a van with Winkler's entourage. The blond werewolf loaded into a second van provided by the Corpus Christi Pack. The body bag was hefted into Winkler's van, along with their luggage.
"How's my little sister?" Winkler said to the werewolf driver.
"Just fine," the driver grinned.
"Ashe, this is my brother-in-law, Sam Sheridan, Jr.," Winkler grinned at Ashe, who sat behind Winkler in the second row of seats. "He and his dad own a lot of land south of Corpus Christi."
"We grow a lot of fruit and vegetables," Sam grinned at Ashe as he backed out of the parking space. "We just don't compete with Shirley on the cotton."
"Nice to meet you," Ashe nodded to their driver. He hadn't known until then that Winkler had a sister. Ashe was happy to sit back and watch Corpus Christi fly past, and then the waters of the gulf as they drove over a high bridge to reach Mustang Island. He gasped, though, when Sam pulled off the road that ran through the island and onto a private drive. The drive led to a beach house that fronted the gulf. Ashe had seen this house from the road when he and his mother had driven past days ago. The house was enormous, with a large, two-story detached garage. It didn't surprise him that Winkler owned something so nice.
"You'll sleep in the main house," Winkler told Ashe, watching while Trajan took charge of the body bag, just as before. Trajan and Gabe carried it to the steps leading to the apartment over the detached garage. "Come on, I'll show you which bedroom is yours and you'll have your office right next door."
"I have an office?" Ashe grinned.
"Yep." Winkler slapped Ashe on the back. "But it's Saturday, so you're off. Feel free to unpack or do laundry. We don't have much of a staff here. I'll bring in a cook and a housekeeper for the big stuff, but your laundry and bed making is your job on the beach."
"That's okay, I do it at home," Ashe said.
Ashe gaped at the view through the glass doors of the media room. "Dang," he breathed. "That is awesome." Winkler led him down a long hallway on the second floor.
"You get the bay view," Winkler said, opening the door. Ashe walked into the bedroom, which had its own bath and a view of tall grasses on the western side of the island. A thin strip of water lay beyond that, between the island and the mainland. "That's the ship channel," Winkler explained when Ashe asked. "Ships come through all the time. They haul oil in for the refinery just outside town. Plus some of the Navy ships travel through—Corpus Christi has a Naval Station, although mostly they handle the Navy jets and planes."
"Sounds cool," Ashe said, dropping his bags onto the bed.
"Your office is downstairs, beside mi
ne," Winkler led Ashe down the steps and through another hall. Winkler had the office with the gulf view; Ashe could see the guesthouse from his. It didn't matter; if he wanted to see water, he only had to go to the kitchen, the media room or just go outside and take the wooden walkway to the beach.
"I like this, Mr. Winkler," Ashe breathed.
"Good. I like it too. Now, why don't you grab something to drink from the fridge and go out to the deck? Watch the waves roll in until lunch?"
"Sure." Ashe followed Winkler to the huge kitchen, where a short, bald man who introduced himself as Jimmy was busy preparing a meal. Winkler got a soda with Ashe and walked out to the massive deck behind the media room.
"This is one of my favorite spots," Winkler settled into a cushioned rattan chair. Ashe sat nearby, setting his soda on a glass-topped table beside the chair. He watched waves pile up on the beach while tourists walked past and brown pelicans and seagulls flew by, calling out in flight.
"Do they always fly like that?" Ashe watched a line of brown pelicans flap by, so close he could almost reach out and touch them. It looked as if they were playing follow the leader.
"A lot of the time," Winkler grinned. "You'll see a few of the white pelicans, too, but they're not as common here. I've invited your parents and your friends over tonight for a cookout," Winkler went on. "I think your father will come after sunset. The rest will be here around seven."
"Thanks," Ashe said.
* * *
"Come on, you can do this," Marco was forcing Ashe to run in the late afternoon sun. Ashe had his shirt off, sunscreen slathered on and was working to keep up with Marco and Trajan. They ran easily on the beach, and Ashe watched as bits of shell and a stray jellyfish or two blurred past as he forced himself to take longer strides. "See, those long legs can work for you," Trajan grinned. Ashe knew the nearly seven-foot werewolf was playing with him and could likely leave him behind and stranded if he wanted. "And tomorrow, you'll be in the weight room again at seven."
"What sport did you play in school?" Ashe was breathing hard.
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