Traitor (Shifters Unlimited: Clan Black Book 3)

by KH LeMoyne

  Instead, his cat clawed and snarled inside him, challenging him to chase her before she put more distance between them. He fought the visceral pull, all the while acknowledging that transferring the hate he felt for Karndottir to his daughter was no longer an option. It had been a stupid idea.

  Bitterness swirled through him, leaving an acrid taste as he came to an intersection and picked up the tail end of a discussion down the street. The reek of Gauthier’s wolf enforcers hung in the air.

  Finding the Wilsons’ house was easy. The twists and turns of the streets came back to Rayven the faster she walked. She’d tried a light jog, but her ribs ached with each bounce and her vision clouded with stars. What she hadn’t expected was for Liam Wilson to stare at her in disbelief and not even respond after she told him to take his family and leave. Reality seemed to sink in for them as she asked to borrow his phone. After a few moments of organizing with another of her team members, she had the Wilsons’ next meeting place and a sketchy plan.

  “Take only bags already packed. Here’s the name of your contact and the location to meet up with her in several hours.” She handed Liam the notes she’d jotted on the back of a nearby grocery receipt. “Afterward she touches base with me, you’ll head out to Calgary. Memorize the information and destroy that paper.”

  “We were safe,” he argued in a disheartened voice.

  “No. Jacob’s men are in town.

  Olivia Wilson shouldered her husband aside with her young daughter wedged against her hip. “Why are they here? How did they find us?”

  Rayven winced. “For some reason, they’re following me. I’m…on my way to Deacon Black’s territory.”

  Liam nodded slowly. “For the tribunal. We heard from the woman you put us in touch with here.” He glanced toward his youngest son at his side and gently pulled his daughter from his wife’s grip. “Both of you go. Get your things together, one bag each, and be quick about it.”

  After his son left, he turned back to Rayven, but his wife cut in. “I couldn’t believe when I heard you killed him, not that I’d blame you in the least. I just… You’ve helped us so much, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  With a forced smile, Rayven readied herself for her well-rehearsed explanation. Being locked inside Jacob’s prison cell for days had given her plenty of time and motivation to construct the right amount of explanation without opening herself up to the natural skepticism shifters in the clan might feel toward her situation.

  “She didn’t kill anyone, Livie,” Liam said. “You were hunting near Crowsnest Pass for Nathan, weren’t you? You mentioned you’d try there and that’s where I heard they found you.”

  For all the good it had done Nathan. She nodded and gestured toward the clock on the wall. “I don’t think you have much time.”

  “What about you?” Liam asked as Olivia grabbed a packed suitcase from the hall closet and then stuffed a few things from the fridge in a small cooler.

  “I’ll be fine. Especially if I know you all are safe.”

  “How is Nathan going to find us?” Olivia whispered as she dropped her suitcase on the floor.

  Pulled into her husband’s arms, Nathan’s mother missed the forlorn look he gave Rayven. “He’ll find us. Everything will work out.”

  Rayven understood the words were more for her benefit than Olivia’s. Liam offered a boost of confidence and shared courage. What he seemed to miss was how desperately her courage depended on the Wilson family evading Jacob’s team and not becoming the next victims to whoever held the strings in the shadows.

  She might detest Jacob and he might be a pompous jerk, but he wasn’t clever enough or filled with enough initiative to plan kidnappings and scientific testing. Especially with offspring chosen from the alpha’s list of lesser breeds, half-breeds, and mixed matings as targets. She understood those children possessed strong shifter traits. But purebloods usually refused to acknowledge that key point.

  No, the perpetrators of this scheme could think far enough ahead and conjure twisted benefits where even the enforcers couldn’t. They also remained hidden. But she’d find them. If the tribunal eliminated her, at least her team would keep searching for answers and, hopefully, Alpha Black would as well.

  Olivia grasped Rayven’s hand. “Won’t they be able to track us?”

  “I’ll lead them in the opposite direction.”

  Olivia’s eyes widened, and then her lips pressed together as she came to the answer. “They’ll kill you. You should come with us.”

  Rayven shook her head and walked to the back door to look out into the the backyard. “Follow my instructions and leave now.”

  Before they could argue with her more, she slipped out the door and headed in the opposite direction of the instructions she’d given them. She waited long enough to see the taillights of their minivan disappear down the road, then she forced herself to move.

  Sadly, her ruse lasted only five minutes.

  “Well, well. If it isn’t little Miss Stick-up-her-butt.” Sam preceded one of the other enforcers, Calvin, from behind some sparse trees at the end of the next block. His solid black eyes warned of fury.

  Ignoring the warning signs she felt, she quickly ticked off a calculation in her head for how far the Wilsons might have traveled. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Sam.”

  Two men with handguns moved in behind her. Humans? “The family’s gone.”

  Sam smirked and dug out his phone. “Your favorite girl warned off the family, Jacob. Yep.” He paused, his nose scrunching as he turned away for a second. Snapping the phone shut, he glanced at the humans. “He’s got other men on the roads waiting for them. You’re to head out with them.”

  The men nodded and disappeared back through the brush. Calvin, at her side, nudged her toward the street. Sam kept pace beside them until they reached a parked van.

  Before Rayven could even react, Sam spun her around. His closed fist slammed across her cheek, sending her onto the asphalt. Spitting out blood, she rose on her knees and glared at him.

  She rolled as he kicked with his foot, barely avoiding his strike.

  “You want to play, princess? Fine. I’m just warming up. You can tell me where you sent the lynx piece of—”

  “Sam,” Calvin’s even tone cut through the show, though he did nothing to stop him.

  Diving to the side worked against her the second time. Sam grabbed the front of her sweatshirt and hauled her up.

  Calvin continued. “I talked to Jacob too, and this isn’t what he ordered.”

  Sam snorted. “Calvin, you join the others in the search. I know exactly what the orders are. When I’m through, she’s going to beg to lick my boots and tell me where she hid the information she has.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Calvin’s voice lowered in a cautious tone.

  “Leave. That’s an order.”

  But Rayven noticed Calvin didn’t leave as she silently worked through her options. Sam could dish out a lot of pain, but he wouldn’t kill her. And while she healed slowly, her shifter body would eventually recover, unless he broke her neck. But Jacob wanted her back alive; that much of the exchange came across loud and clear.

  Sam slung her back onto the ground.

  Rolling, she sprang up to meet him face-to-face as he clenched his fist for his next blow. She couldn’t have that. Long rounds of abuse wouldn’t work. She needed an end to this now, because if Sam couldn’t make her talk, then he’d find some poor soul to tease her with, to torture her with, until she became so twisted in her lies to him that she’d accidentally let loose a truth.

  Better to steal that chance from him.

  Besides, Breslin would find her—or her body. He didn’t seem the type to return to his alpha empty-handed.

  When Sam pulled back his arm, she took aim—and spit in his face. “I’m not telling you—”

  She didn’t even flinch as he made contact and pain blistered across her face. Worked like a charm. She wa
vered for a moment and fell backward into blackness.

  “Now that we’ve found them, Jacob’s orders were to get the brats. Don’t kill the parents unless necessary,” said a deep, gravelly voice. “He’s pissed enough that they disappeared from under our noses a few months ago. I don’t plan to get my ass roasted if we fail.”

  Children were being targeted for kidnapping on Karndottir land. So, Deacon’s suspicions about the medical experiments originating in Gauthier’s territory were correct. Breslin snuck deeper into the shadows around the homes, pleased to find an outlet for his frustration. If he could nail down the people kidnapping shifter children for experimentation, he’d consider the whole fucking trip a win.

  He glanced around the corner of the house concealing him from the street. The two men stood behind a van, eyeing several homes on the block with lights on.

  “Why bother to do everything according to Jacob? He was Gauthier’s second. Someone new will come in and wipe the ground with him.”

  “You always were an idiot, Sam. What if Jacob’s the new alpha?”

  “The alpha board would never tolerate someone not of the original bloodline. They’re unyielding about their power.”

  “They’ll send in one of their own.”

  Sam merely grunted.

  “Don’t waste your breath on fighting this. We get in, grab the kids, and go, easy.”

  “Easy, right. Jacob sends us after Gauthier’s chubby daughter, as if she can cinch him the alpha spot. He always boasted he’d bite the bitch and leave her locked away safe, just like her father did with that piece of Irish ass he mated. Stupid plan.”

  “Can’t really blame Jacob for finding the girl attractive,” the first one replied, holding up his hands and ignoring discussion of the mission. “Winters are cold and long. I prefer my women with some flesh on their bones. She’s a sweet piece.”

  “You like anything that moves.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  Shit. Breslin ground his teeth and leaned his head against his wall of cover. She’d been gone from his sight for what, ten minutes, and Gauthier’s team had already tracked her.

  He shook his head, thinking through what he’d heard. It would have been easier for him if Rayven was a selfish bitch trying to escape, but he’d bet good money she was involved with the family these two lugheads were targeting.

  He retreated, circling around back of the house to avoid the two in front, and hunted for others. Jacob would have sent more than two. A few miles down the road, he sniffed again, confirming two more wolves at least a mile away. He stopped, waiting on vibrations from footsteps and the soft whisper of grass or rustling tree limbs.

  The faint smell of burnt gunpowder assaulted his nostrils first, followed by human sweat. Silently, he walked toward an empty vehicle parked on a side road several yards away. No house or driveway was anywhere nearby. He laid his hand on the hood. Warm.

  With the same speed with which he’d retrieved Rayven’s dry clothes, he unlocked the trunk and found what he’d expected, one large duffel bag containing a .338 Lapua sniper rifle. He cast another glance around, yet no sounds or scents indicated the man was near.

  Someone must have warned the human that shifters can smell a fired gun, and thinking himself smart, he’d stashed it a distance away. He poked a finger at several different boxes of ammunition. It looked like the driver came prepared with not only the rifle but a handgun and shotgun with tranquilizer darts too. Idiot.

  He picked up one tranquilizer dart, sniffed it, and then crushed it in his fist. These would kill the shifter children and their parents too if they were hit with several. A suspicion nagged at him. What if Jacob wasn’t the orchestrator of the kidnappings?

  Shanae Philmont, one of Deacon’s team, had been targeted a month or so ago, and the selection, manipulation, and injection of her young son, Trevor, had been executed with meticulous and ruthless planning.

  Nothing as shoddy as the shooter who had targeted him and Rayven earlier at the river or the way they’d abandoned weapons in an easily found location. Smart kidnappers would realize that if they had eyes on Rayven and the family, then that left him free in the wind.

  Lesser men had died making such mistakes. Men whose fates mattered not at all to him. However, he was totally invested in retrieving his charge and ensuring that this family didn’t lose their children.

  Prepared to hunt down the house and find his prisoner, Breslin froze catching Sam’s voice again on the breeze.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Calvin, leave. That’s an order.”

  “I’m not telling you—” Rayven’s voice chimed in and was cut off in midstream as a sharp smack of flesh on flesh rang out, followed by a feminine cry. Breslin was already racing back the way he’d come. He could hear every damn word, including what sounded suspiciously like a wet hack of spit before Rayven’s last words. But he was too far away to help and he couldn’t control his thundering pulse at the all too familiar sound of a beating.

  “Fucking bitch,” Sam continued.

  “Hey, he said on the phone he wants her alive! And you’re not going to get the information she’s hiding with her unconscious.”

  Breslin breached a hill, still too far away. He’d gotten there in time to witness Calvin’s last words with Sam and watch the older man scooped Rayven’s limp body from the asphalt and transferred it into the back of the van. He checked her pulse and then slammed the doors, rounding on Sam. “You hit her too hard. I don’t know if she’ll wake up.”

  “She’ll live.” Sam was already at the driver’s door and climbing into the van. “She had it coming, getting involved in something that’s none of her business. You’d be good to remember that, Calvin.”

  “Jacob wants her taken to Beauvais Lake,” Calvin continued as if they were discussing the weather. “The rest of the team will meet you there within the hour.”

  “Yeah. Heard you already.”

  “Untouched, Sam,” Calvin added over his shoulder as he ran for the house and shifted in midair into a large gray wolf.

  “Well, that depends on how fucking fast Jacob gets there now, doesn’t it?” Sam muttered and started the engine.

  Breslin narrowed his eyes and swore softly. He’d knocked her unconscious. That alone signed Sam’s death warrant. But if he touched her again, Breslin was going to take immense pleasure in littering the Rockies with Sam’s bones from one end to the other.

  9

  With no time to bother with stealing a vehicle, Breslin shifted. His cougar kept up the brisk chase, paralleling the van while remaining out of sight on the straightaway, and then weaving into the hills and watching from a distance to gain a faster shortcut to the van’s destination. He doubted that the target was far away if everyone had an hour to get there.

  Besides, dedicated time surveilling the area, not luck, gave him a good sense of the remote sections of parkland in the area that would hide shifter activity.

  It enraged him he hadn’t been in time to stop Sam. Sure, he’d heard the details of Calvin’s discussion with Sam. Breslin’s hearing, even over the distance, was excellent. But his all-out sprint didn’t cover the distance in enough time to catch the van, much less stop the brutal assault on his—no, his prisoner. Better to think of her in those terms and keep the fury in his beast contained. Barely.

  He gauged the remaining miles to Beauvais Lake and watched the brake lights of the van flicker. Several miles too early, it turned into a tree-covered lane. He cemented his decision to leave Sam in a shallow grave. He’d scented Sam’s lies. His endorphins had carried on the breeze, thick with his eagerness. Jacob’s henchman didn’t intend to deliver Rayven alive any more than he planned to leave the parents living.

  Rayven must have known. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have set herself up as a distraction.

  Neither of those realizations now had minimized his shock when she’d provoked Sam into attacking her, because even after knowing her such a short tim
e, he could read her intent from the inflection in her voice. And hell, she’d spit in that asshole’s face. A smart and brave move, one Breslin never wanted to hear her do again in his lifetime. No matter how guilty Rayven might be of her crimes—and his doubts were growing by the second—he hoped he got to her in time.

  If the team was really on its way, Sam needed to be cautious, or pretend caution.

  But why had she exposed herself to save this family? And what had whipped Jacob and his team into such a full-on assault to find them, much less take Rayven back?

  Gauthier no longer called the shots, leaving Jacob free to pursue his own course until a new alpha rose to power. One who wasn’t Rayven, because the energy lash from a new alpha claiming their territory would have rippled for hundreds of miles. He’d have sensed the power within her. She couldn’t hide something like that in close proximity. More importantly, Deacon and the neighboring alpha, Whit Sheridan, would have felt the surge.

  With that much power, Rayven wouldn’t need to run or kowtow to a clan member the likes of Sam or submit to an enforcer from a neighboring alpha. Which begged the question of who considered Rayven enough of a threat to frame her for her father’s murder and kill her before she could clear her name?

  Not Jacob. His lust had permeated the courtyard of Gauthier’s sanctuary, even while he watched her unconscious, injured body being loaded into Breslin’s SUV. What a sick SOB. He’d wanted her and yet been forced to give her away, but by who? An existing alpha or a new, hidden alpha?

  It didn’t matter. Someone else was in control. Not any of the men who’d pursued Rayven after the vehicle crash. They didn’t fit the profile. If there was one skill he considered his strongest, homing in on the likely culprit won every time, because he’d refused to add innocent kills to his conscience.