Roan (Shifters Elite Book 1)

by Ava Benton

  They were waiting for me when I reached the overhang, and they were all in human form.

  I shifted right away.

  “Here.” Slate handed me a pair of jeans, shoes and socks. “Figured you’d need them. And this.” In his hand was a semi-automatic.

  “Why? What’s happening?” I couldn’t read any of their faces.

  “We don’t know for sure yet, but Mary told us this morning that there was some sort of signal coming from the cabin.”

  “Huh?” I looked back in the direction of the little building, but trees blocked my view. The way they were supposed to. “A signal? Impossible. I always shut everything down after my calls with her.”

  “Well, there’s something there. Some sort of device.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me about this? She sent you out here instead? It must’ve taken hours—hours we don’t have to play with.”

  The three of them exchanged guilty looks. “We, uh… we didn’t leave,” Slate admitted with a sheepish grin.

  I gaped at them. “You were here all along?”

  “Yeah, and you had a close call with that bear last night. We were watching from that ridge.” He pointed up to a series of rocky cliffs in the distance.

  Upwind from where I’d been with Hope and the bear. No wonder I hadn’t smelled them.

  “What the hell?” I bellowed. “You’ve been skulking around all this time and you couldn’t even tell me so? What about me wanting to keep you away from this?”

  “You know we don’t leave each other like that,” Drew said, shaking his head. “We’re family. We would never abandon you.”

  “Mary went in on it with us and promised not to tell you we stuck around,” Carter added.

  “Great. Remind me to thank her for that.” I paced back and forth, head in my hands. “So she found a signal.”

  “Right. Something pinging in the cabin, some sort of homing beacon.” Slate looked just as confused as I felt.

  “I don’t get it. What could it be? She hasn’t tried to use her phone—I don’t even know if she has one with her at this point. I’ve never seen her with it.”

  “She doesn’t have any other devices?”

  “No. She’s too smart. I’m pretty sure she knew anything she used could be traced somehow. She wouldn’t have brought anything else with her when she ran.”

  When she ran.

  “The backpack. There’s gotta be something else in the backpack we don’t know about. She probably doesn’t even know about it.” I started running back to the cabin without thinking about anything but getting to her as fast as I could. Drew caught me and held me back.

  “How would he plant anything in the pack?” he asked. “He hasn’t seen her since she ran, unless there’s something about that night she hasn’t told us.”

  “No, I don’t think there is,” I said.

  “Hang on. There’s no guarantee anybody else knows about that signal but us.”

  “Bullshit,” I snarled. “Why do you think it even exists? Somebody else is following that signal. It’s already been four days since we got here. He could be here at any time.”

  “Do you really think Fremont would come in person?” Carter asked. He sounded skeptical.

  I looked at Slate, who nodded.

  “Yeah, I think he would,” my brother said in a low, tight voice. “He wants to get the job done this time, and he wants to see it done with his own two eyes. But Drew’s right. We don’t know that he’s here or that he’s even anywhere close. He has an election to worry about. He can’t just drop everything to come out here.”

  “And you can’t go running in there like a crazy person, either,” Drew added. “You’ll freak her out. She’s already had enough to freak her out.”

  “You’re right about that,” I sighed. “I only wish I knew what he was thinking, that bastard. I don’t trust him. I wouldn’t put anything past him when it comes to her.”

  “That’s why we stayed,” Slate said. “To make sure you’re okay, since who knows what this guy is capable of.”

  “Tell me about it. You never saw that bastard he sent to shoot her the first time.” Then, it all clicked in my head. “That’s when it did it. In the alley. She dropped the bag on the ground and I wasn’t looking at him. I was looking at her, trying to get her not to shoot him. He must have stuck something on the bag or in the bag. It was right next to him. That’s the only way I can think of.”

  “So even if he never found the chance to get her himself, if he got close enough, he could plant the tracking device on her and make it possible for Fremont to find her himself.” Drew shook his head. “He’s a slick bastard, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah, and he’s gotta have somebody on the inside, hooking him up with this shit, connecting him to the people who kill for money. I’ve gotta get back to her. I won’t feel right until I know she’s safe and I’m with her.”

  “Okay. Go ahead. We’ll hang back for a little bit, until you tell her why we’re still here. We’ll put together a plan from there.” Slate patted me on the back, trying to reassure me without words.

  I appreciated it, but nothing he could’ve done right then would’ve made me feel better.

  As I ran back to the cabin with a pistol tucked into the waistband of my jeans, I considered taking her away that very day. We could leave that damned backpack at the cabin and just take off. Anywhere she wanted to go. I would go anywhere with that woman.

  Everything looked all right when the cabin came in sight, giving me a little relief.

  Until I took a deep breath, that was.

  And I smelled him.

  He was there. That cologne was the same.

  There was another smell, too. How the hell had I missed it before? Because I was busy recognizing my brother’s scent.

  Two men were there.

  Nearby.

  I turned in a slow circle, eyes peeled. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. There wasn’t anybody perched in a tree or behind a bush. Even the birds seemed happy, tweeting away. Nothing was out of place.

  Which meant they were inside the cabin.

  I forced myself to walk the rest of the way there, slowly, evenly. I only picked up my leather jacket from where I’d left it, slung over the back of the Harley. If I wore it, it would conceal the gun. After putting it on, I walked straight up to the front door—it should’ve been locked if Hope did as I told her, but the knob turned freely. Maybe she had and they unlocked it for me. Then again, maybe they didn’t give her the time to lock up.

  I didn’t smell blood. That was a positive, at least. The only positive I could come up with as I pushed the door open and entered the living room.

  There they were, the three of them.

  Hope with a gun to her head, her eyes wide and tear-filled, an arm around her neck to hold her in place. I didn’t recognize the soon-to-be-dead man holding her.

  I did, however, recognize the man standing next to them with a regretful smile on his face.

  “Now that we’re all together, it’s time to get down to business,” Jack Fremont said in a clipped tone as he adjusted the knot in his tie. “I’m a busy man, after all.”

  18

  Hope

  There were four of us standing there in a tight little cluster.

  Me, with a gun to my head and an arm as strong as a steel band around my neck.

  The man holding me—I couldn’t see him. He’d snuck up behind me while I was preparing something to eat and clamped a hand over my mouth before I could scream. I didn’t dare turn my head to look at him. I didn’t dare move a muscle. I would’ve bet good money it was Gio Rossi, tying up loose ends.

  Roan, who was only dressed in jeans and his leather jacket, hands at his sides. His eyes were two flames, burning just over my shoulder at the man holding me in place.

  And my father.

  I couldn’t see him any more than I could see the man holding me, but I knew the scent of his cologne. I could’ve picked it out of a crowd in the middle of
Times Square. It was just that big a part of my memory, the cologne he’d been wearing for my entire life. A life he had helped start and was trying to end.

  “Put the goddamn gun down.” Roan’s voice was like ice.

  If I were the one holding a gun to somebody’s head, I would’ve dropped it. I would probably piss my pants, too. Still, the thug didn’t flinch.

  “You’re not calling the shots here,” Dad sneered, stepping into my line of sight. He pointedly glanced at the thug holding me.

  The pressure of the muzzle against my temple increased until I ground my teeth together to keep from crying out.

  I wouldn’t give the thug that sort of satisfaction. I wouldn’t let him break me.

  “Dad, stop this. Please.” I held up my hands and noticed how they shook. I willed them to stop.

  I might as well have not existed—in fact, he wouldn’t look at me. He only had eyes for Roan. “This isn’t your problem, kid. You don’t have to be wrapped up in this.”

  “It’s too late for that,” Roan snarled. “She’s my responsibility.”

  “That’s a shame.” He shook his head with a nasty little smile. “She’s a big responsibility. Believe me. I know.”

  “Yeah, well, you don’t have to worry about her anymore.” His eyes shifted until they were directed just over my shoulder. “I told you to put the gun down,” he warned the thug.

  “Shoot her,” Dad ordered.

  I couldn’t believe it. I never thought I’d hear those words coming from his mouth.

  It was like something out of a nightmare—even when I was running from him and his hired goons, it wasn’t him. It was them. They were the ones trying to kill me. I could still try to believe he wasn’t the one calling the shots, that maybe it was whoever he was afraid of—the Rossi family, most likely—who wanted me dead and he was only standing off to the side, letting it happen.

  But no, I was wrong.

  He was the one in control. He didn’t care if my life ended in that little cabin. In fact, he wanted it that way.

  “How can you do this?” I whispered. I couldn’t help it. The need to know was stronger than the need to stay silent for fear of a bullet ripping my brain apart. “I’m your daughter, damn it. How can you?”

  Again, he ignored me. Willfully this time.

  “Ignoring me won’t make this any easier. I’m here, Dad. I’m your daughter. You’re trying to kill me and for what?” My voice got louder with every word until I was almost screaming.

  “Shut up,” he spat.

  I shifted my eyes in his direction—I couldn’t turn my head with cold steel pressed against my skin—but I could just make him out. And he was stock-still, unflinching. Not looking at me.

  “Why are you doing this? What’s it all about? Is it worth killing your only daughter? Will that make you happy, having what you’ve always wanted?”

  “Hope,” Roan warned in a steady, but deadly, tone.

  I wasn’t about to listen to him just then. He didn’t know what I was going through. He had never listened to his father ordering his murder. “You called me a responsibility and you made it sound like that was a terrible thing,” I muttered. “I’m so sorry that I killed my mother and left you alone with me.”

  “Stop this.” Dad’s voice didn’t sound so strong anymore.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t easy, Dad. I’m sorry I wasn’t the daughter you wanted.”

  “I said stop!”

  “I wish I could’ve been the person you wanted me to be, but that just wasn’t me. That was never me. But if you think I would’ve told what happened that night, you’re crazy. I would’ve left and never spoken a word. I’m not crazy. You never knew me at all. You never even bothered to figure out who I was. That I would never betray you. I never wanted to hurt you, Daddy.”

  My chin trembled and tears stung behind my eyes as I babbled. I couldn’t be strong anymore. I had been strong for so long, but I couldn’t when I knew he wanted me dead. I barely hated him anymore. I felt hollow, if anything.

  “Stop.”

  He was starting to break, or I told myself he was. Still, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t the one holding me, pressing a gun to my temple. I looked at Roan, who was still staring over my shoulder at the man who was. He had him dead in his sights, I could tell. His hand didn’t so much as tremble as he aimed.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way, Daddy. Please.”

  I glanced at him, then back at Roan. I trusted him. He would find a way to save me.

  A shot cracked.

  I flinched, then darted over to the safety of Roan’s arms the second the grip on me loosened.

  In Roan’s hand was the gun he’d pulled from behind him, in the waistband of his jeans.

  My attacker hit the floor like a ton of bricks.

  I only heard it, though. I couldn’t see it with my face pressed to Roan’s chest.

  I turned to see Dad standing there with his jaw hanging open.

  “Did you think I would let you get away with it?” Roan asked. He turned the gun on Dad this time.

  I told myself I should stop him, but I didn’t want to.

  Fuck him. He would’ve let that bastard kill me. No. He told him to. Even worse.

  “This has nothing to do with you.”

  “You told a man to kill her. It has everything to do with me.”

  They stared at each other, like they were daring the other to flinch.

  Roan won.

  Dad’s shoulders slumped.

  “I didn’t want it to go this far.” He sounded broken. “You have to believe me, Hope. I didn’t want things to be this way. If I had a choice in this—”

  “You had a choice!” I shouted. “This is all your choice! You didn’t have to do any of it. You could’ve left me alone. I would’ve gone away if you wanted me to. I would’ve done anything you wanted.”

  He snickered. “Sorry if I don’t believe you. You’ve never done anything I’ve wanted.”

  “You need to leave.” Roan’s voice was a command, not a suggestion. “You are trespassing, and I have the right to shoot you dead.” He gestured to the dead man on the floor. “Like this intruder, here.”

  I looked down at the dead man. It wasn’t Gio Rossi. Just another nameless thug, probably.

  “You wouldn’t kill me in front of my daughter.”

  “The daughter you wanted to kill?”

  “I didn’t want to. I had no choice.” He looked back at me. “Hope. You never should’ve been there.”

  “Yes, I know that now,” I whispered. “How was I supposed to know my father was planning on killing somebody that night? I would’ve have come home early.”

  “Don’t you get it? If they find out you know, they’ll be the ones who kill you.”

  I snickered. “You think that makes you a hero? You doing it instead of them?”

  “They’ll kill me, too,” he said. “They don’t let loose ends hang around. You have to know that. You’re a smart girl. You know what they’ll do to me.”

  “It’s not about winning the election?” I asked, doubtful.

  “Of course, I want to win.”

  My heart hardened when he said it. Of course. Nothing could stop him. My shoulders slumped.

  After that, everything happened in slow motion.

  Dad raised his arm as his expression hardened. He was looking at me, right at me. Aiming the gun he’d pulled from his pocket. Taking one last chance at killing me.

  Our eyes locked.

  He was like a stranger. His face was a mask of rage. He wasn’t even there, not the father I thought I knew. That man was far away. This man, the one aiming his gun at my head, was going to kill me in just another moment. The blink of an eye.

  My life was over. I thought I had more time. There were so many things I wanted to do.

  I wanted a family and a life with a man I didn’t know I loved until that very moment. I wanted a life with Roan, no matter who he was. I wanted to be part of his world. I wanted to
see things and meet people and be happy. I didn’t want everything to be over in this cabin. I wanted more time.

  I barely had time to draw a breath—I wanted to scream, shriek, beg for him to stop.

  I was too slow.

  But so was he.

  When the shot rang out I flinched, expecting to feel hot metal tearing through my body.

  Instead, a red stain bloomed across the front of my father’s shirt. He grasped at his chest with one hand as he fell backward.

  Roan kept his pistol aimed at Dad even as it was clear he was dying—if not already gone—and he kicked the gun out of his hand.

  Everything else fell away.

  Nothing mattered but the sight of my dying father.

  “Daddy.” I sank to my knees next to him.

  He was the man who wanted me dead. He was the man who used to wrap me up in his arms and hold me and tell me there was no such things as monsters in the closet. He was right about that, too. There were no monsters there. The monsters we really had to fear were sometimes right beside us—and he taught me that, too, come to think of it.

  He clasped my hand in a vise grip and squeezed until I could almost feel the bones crunching against each other.

  But I didn’t let go. I wouldn’t. Even though he was sticky with already drying blood.

  His eyes were wide, staring up at me.

  I never saw him like that before. He reminded me of a scared little boy.

  “Hope.” His voice was a whisper clogged with blood. He was choking on his own blood.

  I realized somewhere in the back of my mind that I was sobbing.

  My tears hit his face and mixed with his tears and the blood that had started trickling from his mouth.

  “I’m sorry.” His words were barely above a whisper.

  “I know. I know.” And I did.

  In that moment, looking into his eyes, so full of regret and fear, I knew he didn’t mean any of it. He had been afraid all along. He wasn’t brave like Roan or his cousins.

  I had looked up to him when I was little and it was hard for a little girl to find out her father wasn’t brave or strong or even very good. He didn’t have what it took to stand up to the really bad guys, the ones he was afraid of. When that was clear and I understood that I was kneeling over a weak, vulnerable person, I wished I could take it all back. I didn’t hate him. I felt sorry for him.