Wolf's Cross: Book 4 (Loki's Wolves)

by Melissa Snark

  "I know what we agreed to! Why are you repeating it word for word—?" Her frown deepened to a scowl. She wondered if his verbatim recitation of the vow she'd extracted from him was a clever ploy meant to irritate her. Could the man truly be so pedantic that he engaged a devil's regard for adherence to the letter of their verbal contract?

  Arik spoke over her, ignoring her interruption. "In exchange, you promised to protect my mate, my children, and my pack from future supernatural threats."

  "As I stated—I know what I promised."

  "I've kept my end of the deal. It's time for you to keep yours."

  The man's audacity annoyed her, but Freya parsed her patience. It sounded as though he believed his concerns to be valid. Honor dictated that she listen to him and take whatever action was necessary. She drew a deep breath, using the space to reassert her poise.

  "What is the nature of this threat?"

  He nodded as though accepting her capitulation but at least he didn't smirk. Rather, his demeanor was markedly severe. "There's a hunter, one Sawyer Barrett, who's gotten close to Victoria. He's a threat."

  "How is he a threat?" She pursed her lips, silencing her skepticism. She was well aware of Victoria's budding romance with Sawyer. While Freya didn't approve, she hardly considered the man to pose a valid danger to the Storm Pack. Clearly, Arik was jealous—plain and simple.

  "Sawyer Barrett fired the first shot in the war with the hunters that decimated the Storm Pack and he tried to kill Victoria multiple times." His fist smacked his palm. Arik backed each word with the force of his personality. For the first time, his impenetrable exterior cracked, revealing molten rage at his core.

  Sierra Pines, California, on the western shore of Echo Lake

  "We should get going. Can't sit here all day..." Sawyer's voice had a gruff burr that originated in his throat. Too much emotion...

  "You're right." She loathed losing the intimacy of their embrace, but it was time to move along. Twisting, Victoria eased from his lap and back into the passenger seat. An awkward silence settled over them while they fastened their seatbelts again. Sawyer pulled out onto the road.

  "There's an interview coming up at nine I wanted to hear," he said, reaching for the radio dial.

  "Yeah?" Victoria awaited further explanation. When he didn't offer anything else, she shrugged—easier to wait than to pry information when he got tight-lipped.

  Sawyer settled on an a.m. talk channel and cranked up the volume. The host's obnoxiously boisterous voice boomed from the front speakers—

  "...morning Sierra Pines! This is Straight Talk with Johnny Straight! It's 8:46 a.m. on this beauuu-ti-ful June morning. The forecast today is sun, sun, sun with a high chance of fun! Coming up at nine I'll be bringing you the daily news update. Now, here's a word from our sponsor."

  "Do you have a flea problem?" a woman asked. "Keep those pesky—"

  "No." Victoria dialed the volume down so it was barely audible.

  "A little too close to home?" Sawyer snickered. "I wanted to listen."

  "Tough," Victoria mouthed.

  "I can't hear."

  "Turn it back up when the show comes on then."

  He grunted.

  She hesitated, considering what to say next. She really didn't want to discuss Logan anymore. Changing the subject seemed like a good idea. Oh, more of that conversation was certainly coming, because Sawyer needed to hear the entire story, but she needed a break. Doling the saga out in small doses was easier than all at once. Besides, she wondered how much of the tale Morena had already shared. It seemed the questions he hadn't asked were as telling as those he had. For one, she appreciated being spared having to explain how Arik and Logan had wound up fighting over her in the first place.

  "We should talk shop. This is as good a time as any to catch up."

  "Yeah, you're right."

  "What did Finn want anyway?"

  "Oh, yeah." Surprise washed over Victoria, followed by embarrassment. How had she forgotten about that? She composed her thoughts and launched into a detailed summarization of her conversation with Alpha Finn that kept her talking for the next five minutes.

  "Next week is sudden. That's not much advance warning—"

  "Sorry, but it's time. We've delayed too long already."

  "I'll have to call my father and catch him up..." Trailing off, Sawyer cast a questioning glance. "Unless you want to?"

  "Nope, you do it. I'm pressed for time." She offered up a wolf's smile, showing her teeth. "Besides, I communicate with your father just fine, whereas you could use the practice."

  "Gee, thanks." He bared his teeth, returning her grin.

  "You're welcome."

  Sawyer slowed the vehicle to the lower speed limit. Sierra Pines, California, located within the heart of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, had a small-town, big-money feel. The exclusive alpine community clung to the western shore of Echo Lake. Miles of pristine alpine forest full of deer and elk and other small prey extended in every direction, including the remote and rugged Desolation Wilderness. Fallen Leaf Lake and Lake Tahoe lay to the north.

  The downtown district consisted of a picturesque Main Street lined with small businesses and city government buildings. The commercialized section wasn't large but it contained all the usual suspects—a grocery store, a few retailers, and even a dilapidated old theater. A small collection of historic homes clustered about the only elementary/middle school and the adjacent high school. Despite a modest population, Sierra Pines also boasted a ski resort and a state of the art medical facility. Housing was just ridiculously expensive, and the priciest properties were those located on the lakefront.

  The stray thought served as a sharp reminder to Victoria that she and the pack owed their residency in one of the most expensive zip codes in the country to Logan's generosity. She couldn't afford to rent a place for herself, let alone house Sylvie, Morena, and the wolves. Given his attitude, and what he'd said to her, she had to wonder if they'd be homeless once the dust settled. The prospect filled her with anxiety. She needed stability—craved it. As her pregnancy progressed, desire to nest preoccupied her more and more.

  The 9 a.m. show came on the radio and the enthusiastic voice of Johnny Straight returned. When Sawyer turned up the volume, Victoria grimaced but kept her mouth shut. She figured the hunter had his heart set on listening to some sort of sports interview. All the Barrett men were huge baseball fans.

  "I'd like to welcome my guest today, Dr. Kevin Danbury, wildlife biologist with the Federal Department of Natural Resources. Kevin, welcome to Straight Talk."

  "Thank you, Johnny. It's a pleasure. Thank you for having me." Kevin Danbury's voice was mature but hesitant. To the practiced ear, he sounded smart but shy.

  Lips parted, Victoria tilted her face toward the driver's side. Had he known...? From the intent set of his jaw, her answer was an unequivocal yes.

  "No, the pleasure is mine. We're excited to have you." The host released a counterfeit laugh. "Now tell all about the return of gray wolves to the Echo Lake area. I understand this is quite a momentous event?"

  "Indeed, it is." Kevin cleared his throat. "As you may know—or not—gray wolves were once indigenous to California, including the Sierra Nevada mountain range."

  "WOW!" Johnny exclaimed. "What happened to them?"

  "Well, no one can state their fate as a definitive answer. There was a combination of contributing factors—habitat displacement and hunting. It's believed the last gray wolf in the wild was killed in 1924 as part of a government-funded extermination campaign."

  "The species is protected under the California Endangered Species Act?" Johnny asked. "Is that correct?"

  The interruption set the biologist back. The resulting pause turned into dead air until he grunted and made a sudden recovery. "Yes. Yes, that's correct."

  "But wolves have returned, haven't they?"

  "Um. Yes. Er. Well, we haven't yet sighted particular members of the species but their presence has been confir
med via other markers."

  Johnny chortled. "Confirmed. Well, that's one way of putting it. I'll tell you, I recall that spectacular night back in February when all of Sierra Pines heard the pack howling for the first time. So eerily haunting. Sent shivers up my spine..."

  Tilting her head back, Victoria stared up at the clear blue sky and sighed. She'd long suspected that night would come back to bite her in the ass. Doom confirmed.

  "We do have definitive evidence to support the presence of a pack in the Echo Lake area," Dr. Danbury said, talking fast as though trying to regain control of the interview.

  "And that would be?"

  "Well, we've collected paw print castings..."

  "What's that? Plaster of Paris?"

  "Yes, and, um. DNA testing of spoor samples—"

  "Spoor samples—as in poop?"

  "...identified the samples originated from an adult female and three adolescent gray wolves..." Dr. Danbury's mumbles were barely distinguishable.

  "A mom and her pups. Isn't that amazing?" Johnny smacked his palm against a hard surface and continued, allowing no response to his question. "Folks, I do apologize but we're running out of time. I'd like to thank Dr. Kevin Danbury for visiting with us today. We're about to take a break but when we return, we'll be discussing the disaster in Tucson. This is Straight Talk with Johnny Straight. Now, a word from our sponsors."

  A commercial for a local chiropractor came on. Victoria gave the volume control a quick twist, lowering it again to an inauspicious volume. She asked Sawyer, "Do you know what this means?"

  Following a delay, he said, "Unwanted attention."

  "Men with guns who consider wolves a threat to their livestock or land—"

  "You can skip the euphemism and say 'hunters'."

  She slanted a glare in his direction but otherwise ignored the wisecrack and continued her rant. "Worse, assholes after a trophy kill. Government agents. Rabid conservations. Curious hikers." Victoria threw up her hands. "They'll come in swarms armed with rifles and traps, hidden cameras and binoculars."

  "Victoria, calm down. Don't you think you're over-reacting?"

  "No, I'm not. How can you not take this seriously?" She pinned him with a disbelieving look.

  Sawyer grinned. "You'll look cute in a radio collar."

  "I'll collar you," she muttered, brandishing her fist.

  "Look, Southern California is going to hell in a hand basket. How much trouble do you suppose this can cause? Calm down. It'll be fine." Sawyer laughed but his smile had the suggestion of subterfuge. No matter what he said, he'd worried enough to tune into the radio show in the first place. Obviously, he wanted to offer her reassurance.

  "I hope you're right." She crossed her arms over her chest and slumped into her seat, brooding on the matter. Call her a pessimist, but she couldn't help entertaining worst-case scenarios when it came to humans being aware of her pack's presence in the Echo Lake area.

  She sat up straighter as the Chevelle reached the end of the downtown district, passing through the last stop sign. As soon as they cleared the intersection, Sawyer stomped on the gas pedal to get back up to a reasonable speed.

  Next stop—Broken Bend.

  "What can you tell me about these drifters?" Victoria asked.

  "Nothing, really. There was just something... off about them." Sawyer pursed his lips. He started to say something, but then shook his head, and tightened his hands on the wheel. Suspicion crystalized his aura, and nuanced his scent. Obviously, he doubted his instincts or he'd have said more. Or maybe he hadn't managed to put a finger on it yet.

  "Why were you in Broken Bend yesterday?" While he watched the road, she studied him. Maybe asking a few questions would jog something free in his mind.

  "I took Cali to lunch at the Broken Bend Café.”

  "DNR wasn't there?" She kept her tone bland on purpose. Tightness coalesced in her gut. Cali was a few years older than Sawyer—in her early thirties—but it was not a consequential gap. She could see how they'd be attracted to one another, especially since dating options for hunters were limited.

  "Nah, he had something else to do." He sounded distant. Preoccupied.

  "Did you see the drifters at the café?"

  "They were over at the Fireside Inn."

  "Oh? You took Cali to that dump?" Her tension upped to the point where she didn't bother keeping the bitchy/judgmental note out of her voice.

  Sawyer's head jerked toward her so suddenly that the motion traversed through his arms to the wheel, causing the car to swerve right. He corrected, but not before she caught the blankness on his face. Then understanding and a wry grin replaced his surprise.

  "We're not like that. I was just showing her around to help her get familiar with the area. I think she thinks I'm Jake Barrett's idiot son and she's stuck with babysitting duty."

  "She calls you 'sir'," Victoria countered.

  He laughed, loud and carefree. "She calls me 'dumbass' and 'tenderfoot' too. I try not to let it go to my head."

  Ten minutes later, they reached the truck stop community of Broken Bend, which consisted of a couple gas stations, a diner, and sleazy motels. The towering Northern Sierra Nevadas dominated the landscape and US Route 50 bordered the town on one side, a steep, pine-studded mountain on the other. The community's economy relied entirely on commuter traffic traveling through the pass.

  Sawyer turned into the parking lot of the Fireside Inn, though if Victoria hadn’t known the name already, she couldn’t have deduced it from the sign. The only letters remaining were "F R S E I N" in large block letters across the top. Beneath that, a wooden cabin was interposed over a bright red flame, a combination that inspired the impression firetrap rather than the homey association that was no doubt intended.

  Gravel crunched beneath the Chevelle's tires and they rolled to a stop in front the shabby front office. While she watched, Sawyer removed his .45 from its holster and tucked the firearm into the back of his jeans beneath his shirt.

  They left the convertible's top down and approached the wobbly steps that ascended to a rickety wooden porch. The motel complex consisted of the main building and seven dilapidated A-frame cabins tucked in the woods. It did the majority of its business in the winter, catering to skiers. The parking lot was deserted.

  "Watch that second step. It's rotted," Victoria warned. Sawyer held his foot positioned to descend. She reckoned the step would hold under her weight but doubted it'd support the hunter's greater bulk.

  Reflexively, he raised his arms to compensate and tested its soundness. Sure enough, the board creaked and buckled. He skipped the stair, as did she.

  "Thanks," he said.

  "You're welcome."

  When he lingered at the top of the staircase, she stopped in front of him. Curious, she tilted her head and stared into his face. His basal scent, like his expression, registered tension. She asked, "What's up?"

  "When we question this guy, I need for you to do your lie-detector thing," Sawyer said in a husky voice. Stray bangs covered his left eye.

  She quirked her eyebrows. "My lie-detector thing?"

  "You know what I mean." He blew those offending strands of hair aside but they immediately fell into his face again.

  "Yeah, I know what you mean." Fingers twitching, Victoria closed her eyes and shifted her attention to the metaphysical plane, and opened them again. On some level, she was always aware of souls and spirits. However, the deliberate choice to gaze deeper produced a marked alteration in perception. Breathing through her mouth, she centered herself, using Sawyer's aura as her focus—

  Vibrant reds turned reddish orange overlaid a dark marine core. Nothing unexpected or unusual there. The man radiated strength and passion, always one step away from dangerous anger. He was smart and loyal; distrustful and suspicious. The canvas of his soul would've been beautiful if not for the dark streaks of gloom and guilt metastasized throughout. Those negative emotions even affected his scent. Beneath the musky and rich aroma that reminded
her of autumn, he carried mossy notes of nostalgia.

  "You've got angry eyes," Sawyer said, using his term for wolf eyes.

  Startled, Victoria blinked because she hadn't consciously chosen to undertake even a partial shift. She dropped her gaze to his chest, willing herself back to normal. "I'm sorry. It must be being pregnant that has me off kilter." She looked up. "Better?"

  "Nope."

  "Damn it." Looking away, she flexed her hands in frustration. Sunglasses would've been nice to have right then but in her haste, she'd left them back at the house.

  "Don't get upset. It's not a big deal. I'll do the talking, okay? Just pay attention to whether he lies and about what. And try to avoid looking straight at him."

  "Yeah, fine." Grumbling, she followed. She was annoyed with herself, not him.

  The hunter crossed the porch and opened the front door. A bell sounded within and he stood aside, allowing her to go first. This time, his chivalry didn't catch her off-guard. She took it in stride and passed through the entry into the office.

  Long fluorescent tubes, half of which were burned out, bled through cracked acrylic panels, and cast the interior in yellowish light. Prints of dogs playing poker in chipped oak frames decorated the plaster walls. Tattered green swathes of Astroturf covered the floors, but the sour stink of mold was so pervasive that Victoria would've bet good money that the original soiled carpet remained beneath.

  Sawyer's nose scrunched and his mouth contorted in a sneer. Sheltering against the initial onslaught, he buried his face in the crook of his elbow. "Ugh."

  "You don't know the half of it." Her acute wolf senses painted pictures in Technicolor compared to his grayscale olfactory intellect.

  "For once I'm glad for my stupid-ass nose."

  He ducked his head and dropped his voice, speaking only to her as he passed. He had his hand on his back pocket, in the act of extracting his wallet.