Traitor (Shifters Unlimited: Clan Black Book 3)

by KH LeMoyne

  But was she safe in Black Haven? Deacon hadn’t said he’d exonerate Rayven. Hell, he hadn’t really stated an opinion of her guilt one way or the other when he’d dumped the task for her retrieval on Breslin’s head. To be fair, he hadn’t been paying much attention at the time, more consumed by the loss of his one reason for living—revenge.

  Now he had a new concern. She might not be aware that she was his mate, especially if her bear refused to show up and claim him. Yet he grew more certain of their tie with each passing moment. The proof was the strong steady beat of her heart in synch with his, a shocking bond given his staunch dedication as a loner.

  However, if the tribunal convicted Gauthier’s daughter of his murder, Breslin had no doubt of his own response.

  He’d spent decades developing his reputation, with valid kills to support the claims.

  No shifter in the fourteen territories wanted to challenge the Ghost.

  A man fine-tuned and tempered for revenge against only one target, the man who’d killed his family when he was only four years old. But Breslin wasn’t four anymore.

  Full-grown, with a man’s capacity for hatred and a mate’s even stronger protective instincts, he could harness much more power and exact heavy damage.

  If the tribunal took her from him, his cougar would spill blood from one alpha board member to the next, until he took as many of them with him as he could before they found a way to end him.

  For if the woman who rode on his back didn’t survive, both man and beast agreed a violent end suited them both fine.

  Claws & Stripes Tavern, Calgary

  Just shoot me now. Quinn trudged at the back of the sorry group of escapees as they headed into the Claws and Stripes Tavern.

  Aubrey had managed to catch up with him and his charges fifty miles outside downtown Calgary.

  Which suited him fine. They’d traveled for hours in silence, the Wilsons enduring his presence. But, hell, he didn’t need anybody’s acceptance. The thought of being dumped on protection detail for the family after he’d spent months trying to prove himself to Rayven was a bit humiliating. Granted, one he probably deserved. At least he took point on finding Nathan.

  What blistered his ego more was the fact that the most notorious assassin in the western hemisphere was covering Rayven’s tail as if he was born with the right. Not that Quinn ever stood a chance with her.

  But…a cougar?

  A tiny bit of his conscience nagged at him. Rayven wasn’t any more his mate than he was hers. There wasn’t a spark of more than a sisterly vibe about her from his animal. Didn’t mean he hadn’t appreciated a woman with guts and a good heart. Begrudgingly, he admitted Taggart also had some impressive skills. Skills Quinn would give his left nut to possess.

  Instead, he’d done purgatory duty for what seemed like hours in a car with two scared kids, their uptight parents, and—oh yes—later, a bristly half-breed female wolverine shifter. The entire crew frazzled his nerves.

  Now standing in a posh sports bar, he’d give even odds that he was about to meet another secret member of Rayven’s network who’d question his loyalties. And decided he was shit.

  Yet his gaze ranged over Aubrey’s fine ass as she escorted the Wilsons and their tiny tribe toward the back of the bar, and he wondered if perhaps—just once—he might consider a dip in that pool?

  She glared at him over her shoulder as if she’d heard his thoughts.

  Okay. No dips. Pool frigid. The long trip had fried his brain. Still, he could respect a fine ass even if he would never in a million years touch it.

  Distracted enough by Aubrey’s silent rebuke, he almost face-planted into the chest of six…he lifted his head as he calculated…nope, seven feet of purebred grizzly shifter. Make that angry shifter, for it was hard not to notice the drawn caterpillar brows and fierce glare.

  Could he not catch a break today?

  “You have a reservation?” the giant growled.

  Quinn shot a pleading look Aubrey’s way, but she only offered a smirk. Left to fend for himself, he straightened his shoulders. “Rayven sent me.”

  “You don’t belong in here.” The man straightened and boxed Quinn back against the wall near the door, bending close. “Where is she?”

  Head spinning, Quinn noticed two men turn toward them. Men who looked distinctly like cohorts of some of Jacob’s team. He grabbed hold of the shifter’s shirt collar and shoved back. “Don’t think Jacob would take kindly to you disrespecting one of his team. Or have I got that wrong…” He stared toward the bar and squinted at the liquor license hanging on the back wall. “Elijah…Brown.”

  “Answer me, or you’re dead,” Elijah snapped. “And I don’t care if the enforcers take me with you.”

  “One of Deacon Black’s enforcers came for Rayven,” he muttered under his breath. “He took her to the tribunal.”

  Elijah’s eyes grew larger. “You have some balls coming here spouting shit like that.”

  “No shit. I have business here for my group.” He jerked his head toward the hallway where Aubrey had disappeared. He snaked his wallet from his pants, thumbed out his credit card, and raised his voice. “Okay, I’ll pay my damn tab. But bring back the card.

  “Sure thing.” Elijah glanced at the card. “Pretty boy, Quinn.” He lowered his voice. “But you better not be bringing grief down on those people.”

  Quinn stifled a growl, and out of the corner of his eye noticed the men in question stand and disappear out the front door. “Those guys may blow our cover. Get the family somewhere safe and quickly.”

  “Don’t see it’s any business of yours what I do.”

  “They only wanted the Wilsons’ children before, but I’m sure now they’ll want to clean house.”

  “I don’t take orders from you. And why would I trust one of Jacob’s own personal servants?”

  Quinn held up a hand, resigned to begging. “It’s not like it looks. Rayven wouldn’t have sent me here if she didn’t trust me.”

  Elijah stuffed the credit card back into Quinn’s hand. “I don’t even have to serve you, but one drink is all you’ll get here.” Without another word, he walked away.

  One look around confirmed that Aubrey hadn’t come back. Quinn stalked to the bar and took a stool at the end. When Elijah slammed a beer down in front of him, he grasped the man’s wrist. “She sent me to find their son, Nathan, so help me or don’t. Either way, I’m doing what she asked.”

  “She’s gone, and you really think I would trust my livelihood and my family to some stranger? Besides, you find this kid and then what happens? No doubt Jacob’s team has him under serious lockdown.”

  “I’ll find him,” he responded stubbornly. But Elijah was right. Finding the kid was the easy part. Extraction would be a bitch. One of the main reasons he hadn’t gone after the boy himself until now. Unless— “I’ll get him out too.”

  Elijah’s smile was colder than frost. “All by your tiny self.”

  He hung his head, sorting quickly through ideas as the worst possible one popped into his mind. “I’ll get help from Deacon Black’s team.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Elijah slammed a wet towel on the bar and swirled his finger toward the people drinking and watching television several feet away. “Why would the alpha who took Rayven to trial help any of these people solve their problems?”

  “Not the alpha himself,” Quinn forced out with smugness he couldn’t even make himself believe. “His assassin.”

  “You’re out of you ever-loving mind.”

  Yep. However, the more he considered his plan, the more he believed it would work. The man who’d thrown himself into the middle of mercenaries and enforcers to save his prisoner and then patched her up with the delicate attention of a pubescent schoolboy in love would most definitely come back for the one kid who could prove Rayven’s innocence. Quinn had been there the night both Rayven and the boy were taken. If rumors were true, the same night Karndottir supposedly died. No one would be
lieve Quinn if he testified for Rayven. His tenuous connection working for her and his past with Jacob put his word at risk, but the tribunal would believe a boy who’d been through hell.

  “Get Aubrey on board, and I’ll believe you,” Elijah said.

  Quinn rolled his eyes. Really, not even one break?

  14

  Black Haven Stronghold

  Rayven noticed a change in the shadows and colors along the tunnel wall and blinked to see if it was wishful thinking or whether they’d finally reached the end. Shimmers no longer wavered over the rock in grays but flickered in orange and yellow. She squinted and made out a curtain of green vines blocking their path. “We made it.”

  Yet Breslin remained beneath her in his cougar form. Nope. They needed to be able to talk to each other. “You can shift back now. Please.”

  He grumbled low and halted. One moment, she lay comfortably on warm fur. The next, she was cradled against Breslin’s fully clothed body as he stalked closer to the vegetation covering the tunnel exit.

  With a low whistle, he stared for a moment before shouldering aside the snaking vines and stepping out into the sunshine. Even though the sun dipped low in the sky, she winced at the piercing light. “Deacon’s land?”

  “Sanctuary.” He lifted his chin toward the rise topped by a one-story cabin on the opposite side of a small creek. “We’re going to sleep indoors with a roaring fire tonight.”

  “All Jacob’s team has to do is cross the mountains to find us here.” She didn’t mean to be the voice of doom, but finding them was easy.

  “Don’t count on it.” He released her, holding on to her as she steadied herself and regained her footing. “Once we cross the stream, we’re in the Black Haven Sanctuary. No one from your pack can cross with Deacon’s safeguards in place. They’ve tried before. We watch for them.”

  He grasped her hand and tugged her down the hill toward the rushing water.

  “You’ll get wet, so I’ll keep your wound dry.” He crouched at her feet, staring up at her with eyes that reflected the sky and clouds above them, and tapped her boot. “Climb on my shoulders.”

  “You carrying me or dragging my body through the river like the last time?” She glanced toward the stream that appeared deep enough to qualify as a river, pushing a little for humor’s sake. She’d meant what she said hours before in the dark. The confessions needed to be over.

  Rolling his eyes, he urged her knee up around his hip. “On my shoulders. This won’t be any different from carrying you on my cougar all day.”

  Perhaps, but, having her thighs around his head with his lips inches from her most private parts seemed much more intimate.

  He raised a brow, and his mouth quirked up. “This offer only stands for the next few minutes, so hurry up.”

  Right, and then he’d just pitch her over his shoulder if she didn’t agree? She knew he wouldn’t risk her tumbling into the cold stream, not after all the care he’d taken with her. But it was becoming hard not to put too much emphasis on his actions. Still, with everything they’d shared, the struggles they’d survived, she couldn’t stop herself from hoping.

  From the deep brush of fur beneath her flesh, she caught a faint hint her bear felt the same way.

  She swung her leg over his shoulder. Feeling his muscles flex beneath her and his warm breath against her legs, her body flushed with heat.

  The thought of them skin to skin sent an electrifying jolt along her nerves, followed by embarrassment as his palms clenched over her thighs. He could merely be holding her in place, but she suspected he sensed her arousal.

  Not giving her a chance to dwell on it, he charged into the water, high-stepping where he could until he resorted to plowing through the chest-high depths in the middle. He was right. By the time they reached the other side, she was soaked to her waist and grateful she’d been spared the bitter chill and struggle of the crossing. Despite her shifter heritage, her natural adjustments for pain, fatigue, and healing felt drained away.

  Still, she couldn’t tolerate being a burden. “You can let me down now.”

  They reached the cover of the trees at the base of a steep rise and he glanced behind them obviously checking for any tail before he crouched and lifted her over his head “Or I can carry you.”

  She felt every hard line of his body and the telltale hardness of another sort as he stood and held her against him. Every bit of him tempted her to experiment further with this forbidden connection. Instead, she shook her head and stepped back. He’d done enough. It was time he realized she wasn’t fragile. Exhausted, yes. However, she could push herself a bit more.

  He tugged his jacket tighter around her, zipped it up, then nodded. “We’ll rest at the top.

  For the next hour, as the sun disappeared slowly beyond the ridge and trees, she followed him. Well, more like scrambled and crawled over rocks and boulders. Wincing, she tried to pull herself over a particularly large one, but sharp fire along her rib cage robbed her of breath. She collapsed, frustrated, against the rock, considering whether lying there and passing out made her too visible a target and half not caring.

  “Almost there.” A strong arm wrapped around her waist. Breslin tucked her against his side and mostly carried her the remaining hundred yards toward the log cabin.

  At the bottom step, she leaned one hand on her knee, catching her breath, while he finagled a key from a hidden cubbyhole beneath a windowsill. He opened the door and waved her inside. Mustering her last energy reserve, she stepped over the threshold.

  What the cabin lacked in decorative touches, it more than made up for in lush accommodations. Long, deep padded benches lined most of two walls. A stone fireplace dominated another, but she could see another room through the center of the fireplace. To her side sat an alcove about twelve feet long, with a bench fifteen feet deep. Towels filled shelves above that nook. A large area rug tied the room together with one solitary plush chair and a bare dining table.

  Through an archway to the other side, she spied pristine granite counters and rows upon rows of built-in shelving filled with cans and mason jars. “Who lives here?”

  “I do.” His face remained as neutral as when she’d first met him. This couldn’t be his parents’ home. He said that had burned.

  Pushing an unfamiliar lightness into her voice, she turned toward him. “All yours? How did you haul those counters up here?”

  He bowed his head, his eyes glittering. But he didn’t break the staid expression on his face as he moved toward the alcove and, without even straining, folded aside two large slabs of lumber. “The usual way. Road, truck, and big strong bear shifter delivery guys to help me level the counters.”

  Ah, so the isolated and remote façade of his land was an illusion. Still, she couldn’t stop staring at the makeshift kitchen, wondering why, despite the modern upgrades, everything else seemed so puritan. A home built for one.

  At the rumble and gurgle of water, she glanced back to see what he was doing and noticed what he’d exposed by moving the pieces of wood. A fiberglass-enclosed space as high as her waist and easily large enough for two—no, three people—took up half the alcove. “A hot tub? You don’t even have chairs for the table, and you have a hot tub in your main room.”

  He smirked over his shoulder, but as she took a shaky step toward him, her legs gave out. She reached out to break her fall, and he instantly sobered and caught her. “It’s really more of a glorified bathtub. Solar panels heat the water tank, and in an emergency, I have pipes running beneath the fireplace for backup hot water.”

  Pressing her face against his chest, where he held her as if nothing unusual was going on, she followed his lead of acting normal. Too impossible, but she didn’t want to spiral back into silence, blame, and guilt. “It’s so thought out, so…”

  “Just a house, Rayven.” For a moment, she thought he’d kissed the top of her head. But that was her imagination. “A few walls and a roof.”

  Sad. She could envision this as a hom
e. Too dizzy to push away from him and stand on her own, she leaned into his arms, savoring the anticipation of a soak in that tub. “Always thought cats disliked water.”

  “Most people like to be clean.” He tested the water with one hand. Before she knew what he was about, he’d lifted her and set her on the cedar-lined platform beside the tub. “Stay here until I get the fire going. Then we can see about those scrapes and bruises and re-treat your wound.”

  “Do I get porridge and a bedtime story too?” she asked, unable to resist getting a rise out of her jailor turned savior.

  “If you behave, we’ll skip the porridge and try for some chili and cornbread.” As she canted her head to check for appliances in the other room, he added, “Fireplace has a hanger for a pot and a hearth oven built in.”

  Wow. She leaned against the wall and scrutinized the place as he stepped outside for firewood. The modest space could easily accommodate a person sleeping on each bench. More if they wanted to camp out on the large braided rug that dominated the center of the floor. Another several in the room behind the fireplace, though she didn’t see a bed in there. Several ladder-back chairs that she’d missed earlier, hung from hooks on the wall by the front door, another folding table beneath them. Two windows in the front of the cabin provided enough light for the sunset to paint an orange glow over the room. The windows were set strategically high enough to discourage most wild creatures except maybe the most curious of bears.

  All in all, the place was cozy, though a chill hung in the air. Or maybe her body was off-kilter.

  Breslin stalked back inside, kicking the door closed with his boot. He dumped his armload of firewood in a copper bin and then crouched, piling wood and kindling.

  “Do you own this place?”

  “This was my family’s land,” he said as he struck a match and paused with one forearm over his knee, watching for a spark.