Her Wanted Wolf

by Renee Michaels

  “See, Drew? I’m not the only one who skirts around her mate’s unreasonable requests. Do you think it will spread amongst the she-wolves and become the norm?” Sabine lifted a saucy brow in inquiry.

  “Yeah, Drew, and the fact that I found a way to inform my brother we need a small loan to save us from starvation should be considered ingenious. Nothing to cause a knock-down, drag-out fight with my mate.” Aimee added her snarky two cents.

  One he could handle, but two she-wolves taking aim at his hide with their female logic was a clear signal to retreat.

  Drew snatched up the jeans and Henley from the pile of clothes and dragged them on. “You need to ease back, sis. It’s not my ass you want to chew on. I have enough trouble handling my own mate. Let Redmaven manage his.”

  “Handle? Manage!” The two words were screeched simultaneously by the women. The outrage on their faces made him wince.

  He pulled open the door and muttered as he stepped through it, “I’m going topside to have a smoke.”

  “You don’t smoke,” Aimee called after him.

  “No, but I’m sure as hell thinking of taking it up.” He slammed the door behind him and followed the briny scent of the sea out into the sunlight.

  The anger and bristling pride coming off the were staring at the murky grey waves was the first impression he got as he stepped out on the slippery deck. The second was that a human was amongst them.

  Micah Redmaven stood by the rails, studying the ocean, which exhibited an irritability similar to what his spoor emitted. Bad-tempered grey clouds hung low in the sky, and the swells rolled ashore to crash into the wharf. Drew walked gingerly over the heaving deck.

  “You may be distracted by your other troubles, but I don’t believe you’ve missed the fact that there’s a human on board this ship.”

  “No shit.”

  Somebody was having a tantrum.

  “What, for a couple of kicks, you’ve taking up revealing our existence to every dipshit?”

  Micah’s hot go to hell and stay there glare didn’t faze Drew. Nobody singed your hide with a glance like Sabine.

  “Fuck off, Lunedare. I’m not in the mood.”

  Christ on a stick, the asshole had a chip on his shoulder almost as big as the one Drew’d had on his a couple of weeks ago. Problem was, Drew itched to knock it off. Since he couldn’t, he’d get his jollies by pissing him off more.

  “Word is you’re running low on food.”

  Micah spun around to face him, disbelief carved into the lines of his face. “I told Aimee not to…”

  Drew looked at him pityingly, which only seemed to infuriate Micah more. Drew could see the inability to vent his anger strangling him. Having a mate tended to do that you.

  “She didn’t tell me, she told Sabine,” Drew informed Micah, studying his fingernails.

  “What’s the freaking difference?” Micah demanded as though he didn’t expect an answer.

  “None. Son, I’ve concluded that our females think in a convoluted way. It produces a logic that boggles the mind and sets your teeth on edge. I tell Sabine what I need her to do. She does it, but in her own way. I can’t fault her for following her instincts since she’s saved my hide a time or two. But I’d be damned before I admit it. I’m not giving her any more leverage.”

  “I’m sure as hell not taking your money.” Scathing rejection laced every word.

  Silence fell between them. Micah was fuming, while Drew struggled to think of a way to get Redmaven to accept what he needed but didn’t want.

  “Not giving it to you, I’ll lend you some.” Drew flashed him a grin. “I will of course charge you interest, compounded daily. You’re not going to stand by and let your people go hungry. Suck it up, Redmaven. I had to do it for Aimee.”

  A haunted bleakness flitted across Micah’s face before an aggrieved grunt rumbled in his throat. “Shit, what’s with you Lunedares? Do you gouge everybody with exorbitant interest rates?”

  “Only those we love.” Drew slid a coldly mocking glance at Micah. “Or loath, but can’t touch. Until Aimee gets over her little infatuation with you, I can’t ruffle your fur. But after that, all bets are off.”

  A shit-eating grin spread across Micah’s face. “It just bites, doesn’t it? The fact that Aimee loves me?”

  The slight empathy Drew felt for Micah as two men dealing with opinionated mates, evaporated like spit on hot asphalt.

  There was acrimony in the were’s voice. Riding over that was pride and the joy of a man secure in his mate’s love. Worse yet, from Drew’s point of view, standing before him was the man who loved his sister above all else. It was going to be difficult to dislodge him from Aimee’s heart. She’d always wanted a family, like the one they lost. They both did. He and Micah Redmaven would never be friends, but the she-wolf that connected them was dear to them both.

  “That’s putting it mildly, but I’m not worried. Aimee will come to her senses.”

  “Never gonna happen.” The confidence in Micah’s short statement irritated Drew no end.

  “We’ll see.”

  The sense that he was under scrutiny caused Drew to look up. His skin dark and leathery from the sun, a barrel-chested gnome of a man stood in the wheelhouse, bowlegs braced apart staring down at Drew, curiosity in his eyes.

  “What the story with the human?” Drew almost grinned when the captain flicked two fingers in salute at him. Appreciating the human’s cocky insouciance, Drew nodded in response.

  “Dubois? The long and the short of it is, I saved him from a pair of wolves who were tenderizing him. I don’t even want to speculate about what they were going to do with him. Turns out he had a boat in dry dock for repairs. When I needed to transport a bunch of people out of Savannah, he offered us the use of this vessel for as long as we needed it. Don’t how we’d have managed without him.”

  “Does he know we’re weres?” He sure as hell didn’t need a bunch of gun-toting humans breathing down their necks.

  “I think he suspects. The Cajun babbled about the loup-garou as we patched him up. None of us has shifted in front of him to give ourselves away. I hinted that we’re a cult on the run from the law, and since he has no use for cachons, as he refers to the cops, it worked to our advantage. However, we showed up here, butt naked, battered and bruised, and by some miracle, we’ve healed this morning. I don’t know how he’s going to rationalize that.” Micah rubbed a hand over his face and let out weary sigh. “We’ll be lucky if he believes we’re a bunch of crazy ass nudists.”

  Drew laughed, “We’ve been called worse things.”

  A sighing snort huffed past Micah’s lips. “Yeah, isn’t that gods honest truth.” His words were tinged with bitterness.

  “Are you open to listening to how I think we should go about dealing with Bardo?”

  Looking like a man who was about to swallow some nasty tasting medicine, Micah grimaced. “Not really.”

  “Well, I could always ask Aimee what she thinks. She can nag you into a quivering mass of agreeableness.”

  The steady gaze Micah fixed on him didn’t have as much dislike as it did when he walked on deck. “You’ve got a streak of mean in you a mile wide, don’t you? You S.O.B.”

  “So I’ve been told. I do my best to live up to it. Are we going ashore for supplies, or what? I can’t think on an empty stomach, and I need to make some calls.” He needed to let his pack know what was happening, call in a few favors, and set things in motion to get his little sister what she wanted.

  Drawing Bardo out might not be so easy. There was a new set of variables they had to circumvent, now that Rifkin was in the mix. But if he had to work with Redmaven to get what he needed, he would.

  Micah’s eyes narrowed, distrust darkening them. “What’s your plan?”

  “I’m going to call a friend of mine to secure a sanctuary for your family. When he gets here just let me do the talking.”

  Micah leaned on the side of the boat, arms folded over his chest and cros
sed his legs at the ankles. “What, don’t you think a dumb Redmaven can string two words together?”

  “No, I think you’d rub each other the wrong way. You already qualify for his kill on sight list.”

  Mouth twisted, Micah scoffed, “Yeah, I’m a Redmaven, so it’s a given. Right?”

  “Not quite. Bardo’s father took his sister. It was one of the reasons your pack lost our domain.”

  “Hmmm, yes, Lily Sinclair. Eyes like molten honey, skin like coffee with just a hint of cream in it. Yeah, I’ve had the pleasure.”

  “Gee, do remember to bring that up within Royal’s hearing range. I’ll just stand back and watch him rip you apart. It’ll solve a problem for me.”

  “It wasn’t like that. After Ambervane mated with the multimorph, Maxim wanted a she-wolf, who was a sister to an alpha for Bardo. She plays a wicked game of chess.”

  “You play chess?” He’d heard the Redmavens didn’t waste money on formally educating their young.

  “Surprise, surprise, I’m not illiterate. I was one of the few considered worthy of an education.”

  “Tell me, what made you qualified?”

  “Bardo’s father had me tested. Top marks in strategic thinking, protective instincts, a photographic memory, and a body that that turns into a weapon of destruction when I shift. To Maxim, we weren’t family but chess pieces on a board, kept isolated until he found a use for us. Soldiers. Pawns. We were fed a special formula of the juice as mother’s milk. Most died, but a few survived. There were ten of us left. It’s down to eight if my two missing comrades are dead. Four run with Bardo, and they are loyal to whoever is alpha of the pack. That is their mindset. Rifkin had two in his corner. You killed one. You have seven weres like me to contend with and you’ve see what we become when we shift. Rifkin and I are the worst of the lot. It seems we were slated for bigger things than the others.” Bitterness turned his eyes into stony, glittering emerald gems.

  Crap, what did one say to that? He didn’t want to imagine how twisted Micah’s upbringing made him, not when his sister’s heart was tangled up with him.

  “Well, Mr. Strategic Thinking, what do you think is the set up between Bardo and Rifkin?”

  Micah didn’t hesitate. He spoke with a quiet conviction. “At this point, I don’t know. If Rifkin is still playing boot licker, he’s only a member of Bardo’s cadre to keep abreast of things. I know he’s waiting for a chance to take down the Redmaven alpha. Bardo’s guard won’t interfere because of pack law. The same way they won’t intervene if I challenge Rifkin if he’s alpha. I can beat him. I figure he tracked me here last night to take me out before I challenge Bardo. He would have help now, since they’d consider me disloyal to the pack. That way he’d have a clear shot at the leadership. Now that you’re in the mix he might have to rethink his plans.”

  “Yeah, I can become a real complication without making any effort.”

  Micah paused, his face grim. “He wants me dead because he wants Aimee, and there is no way in hell I’d allow him free access to my clan. He’ll use Milo. No other cub is going to suffer through any more experimentation like we did. He has to be stopped.”

  “Does everybody who’s acquainted with you want to kill you?”

  “Just about.” He stood before Drew. Pain was carved into his face and his eyes filled with a desolation Drew understood. “I’m asking you to see to Aimee and my cub if I don’t come back. Keep them safe.”

  Christ, what a situation. “Goes without saying, but you don’t look easy to kill, unfortunately. You’ll make it, if only to be a pain in my ass. If that’s the way you see how things stand, then we will have to set up a meet between you and Bardo, before Rifkin gets to him, won’t we?”

  “Right. I’ll just have to slip past a posse of weres slavering for my blood, and go say hi to my very pissed off alpha.”

  “You’re not the only one who aced strategic thinking, pal. Besides, I have Sabine in my corner and a battalion of weres rearing to kick some Redmaven ass. Present company I hope will be excluded, for now. You’ll get your encounters with both Bardo and Rifkin.”

  Micah shook his head in a show of doubt. “It won’t be a fair fight, you saw how they jumped me three to one last night. The next time it’ll be more. Rifkin intends to take me down before I can get to Bardo.”

  Drew couldn’t believe he was going to say what he was about to. “Well, we’ll just have to protect you like we’d do a she-wolf, won’t we, Mary?”

  “Fuck you, Lunedare.”

  “Sorry, you don’t do it for me, and since I turned down your proposition, you’ll have time out to work on your vocab. You’re becoming repetitive.” Drew rose to his feet, and followed his nose. “I’m going to help you for the simple reason that you’ll hate it, but you’ll need my assistance for these weres you’ve taken under your protection. I know it’s small and petty of me, but it’s the only form of revenge I’ll get, for now.”

  The scent of peaches and sugar baking swirled in the air, in a mouth-watering siren call. He knew that’s where he’d find his mate. And he wanted to spend a few quiet moments with her before they had to get on the crazy merry-go-round that was their life.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “Have you lost your damned mind?” Royal tossed back his braids and laughed. It wasn’t the laughter of someone who was amused, but rather a hoot of amazement at Drew’s ballsy proposal.

  Heads turned. Drew looked up to see every freaking man in the bar sizing them up. The curious barflies dropped their furtive gazes when their eyes met the steely stares of the four hard-eyed weres sitting around the table tucked into the far corner of the bustling room.

  Why the hell had Royal picked this place? It was lousy with humans who made him twitchy. Even among this rowdy crowd of bikers and fishermen, the four weres stood out like a quartet of Rottweilers amongst a bunch of pit bulls.

  Drew’s sense of smell was overloaded. The seedy waterfront dive where Royal set up the meeting stank of alcohol and sweat. Adding to the mix was the flowery perfume worn by the waitresses, who were dressed in abbreviated sailor suits and sky-high stilettos.

  The booze flowed freely and bullshit was tossed around like confetti. The mood was jovial now, but it wouldn’t take much to become belligerent. The crowded room carried the scars from many a bar fights. If one of these humans got drunk enough and wanted to test their mettle with the outsiders, a brawl was sure to ensue.

  Royal was at his pissy best, eating a seafood and rice concoction without a care in the world.

  Drew knew better. He’d seen the flare of anger in his eyes when he caught the scent of Micah, who issued an unvoiced challenge with his patented come-get-some sneer.

  Rafe, ever watchful, sat back sucking on a longneck, ready to spring into action if the enmity between the two weres looking for an excuse to have a go at each other escalated.

  It was not going well.

  Frustrated, Drew pinned Royal with an impatient glare. “Come on, Royal, it makes sense.”

  A knowing smirk flitted across Royal’s face. “To who, you? Sure it does. You want to palm the Redmavens off on me like last year’s fruitcake. Sorry son, you can’t re-gift this one.”

  “Fuck this, I’m out of here.” Micah stood up so fast he sent his chair slamming into the wall, his stance stiff with suppressed anger as he stalked off. The testosterone-filled throng parted like the Red Sea to let him through.

  Now Royal was amused, his eyes glittered with it. “Boy needs to be taught some manners, Drew. You don’t come begging with hat in hand with an attitude. A little humility would be in order.”

  “Kiss my ass,” wafted from across the bar over Garth Brooks singing about low places and the hum of conversation.

  As mercurial as ever, Royal let out a genuine chuckle. “I could grow to like your new BFF, but on principle I won’t lift a finger to help him. First, his pack took my sister too. Secondly, I won’t go against Justice’s judgments. I owe him big, and I’ve bared my nec
k and swore my allegiance to him when he assumed the mantle of supreme alpha. It means something to me even though I bend the rules a little.”

  “A little?” Rafe scoffed. He set his beer down on the table and got to his feet. “I’m going to go see what that hot-head is up to.” He looked over the restive bar flies. “I think you two could handle this bunch on your own. Try not to leave too many body parts behind.”

  Time for the real negotiations to begin. Royal was jerking him around and they both knew it.

  “You know damned well I have Justice’s go-ahead on this. There are women and children involved. I want them secured. Besides, Aimee is pregnant with Micah’s cub. Nothing jeopardizes my family,” Drew declared flatly. Aimee’s uncertainty about her cub’s future tore at him. What else could he do but try his level best to remove the dread he saw in her eyes, and he’d help her secure a better future for his niece or nephew.

  All signs of humor died in Royal’s eyes. “Well hell. Shit, at least I got Lily safe and sound.”

  “Tell me about it. And just so you know, the reason your baby sister came back unscathed is because Micah guarded her for most of the time. You could almost say you owe him.”

  “I don’t owe him shit!” The terse denial came out swiftly, but Drew caught a glimmer of conflict on Royal’s face before he deliberately wiped it off. Royal was a man who paid his debts.

  “It’s a temporary solution. Let’s stop farting around. What’s it going to cost me to get you on board? We’re running against the clock. There is lot at stake here.”

  Trying to look offended and failing, Royal rocked back in his chair. “You wound me. Am I so shallow?”

  Drew had him. All he had to do is provide the right incentive so it wouldn’t seem like Royal caved too easily. “Spit it out.”

  “Rick has been at me to buy a slice of that sweet bird he’s testing out. I need you to put up the money to secure me part ownership of the Lear. In my line of work, it will come in handy. I’ll pay you back, of course.”