Traitor (Shifters Unlimited: Clan Black Book 3)

by KH LeMoyne

  Breslin gave a curt nod and braced himself.

  Quinn shouldered open the door to the packed bar, his gaze sweeping across the nearly empty tables until he found his target at the back of the room. It was still early for the local regulars from every softball, hockey, and curling team in the area. Luckily, there was no sign of any other clan members either. Give it another few hours and the tables would be packed, the beer flowing and every sporting event available streaming from the TV monitors hanging from the ceiling.

  He dragged a chair to where Aubrey sat texting on her phone and ignored the flip of her fingers shooing him away.

  Having followed the suspicious shifters after they left the bar the other night and confirming they were more interested in picking up women than ratting out the Wilsons, he’d turned to calling in favors. The last of them, it seemed. Most everyone he knew had left the country. Of those remaining, few were willing to jeopardize their lives by aggravating whoever stepped up as the new alpha.

  But one good break was all Quinn needed. Unlike his usual fiascos, he’d been lucky enough to get two.

  Now if he could convince Aubrey and Elijah to help him before his airport meet time, he stood a good chance of freeing Nathan.

  Aubrey leaned closer and grabbed his T-shirt, pulling him in not quite close enough for an amorous kiss, but still within range of her powerful fingernails scratching at his throat. It didn’t matter that none of them could half shift with the powers of an alpha. Some animals had more strength—and more viciousness than others. Focused on her steely gaze, he fought the instinct to defend himself.

  It wasn’t as if he wanted to fight her. But hell, his beast didn’t take insults kindly. Like any sane man, he’d never willingly take on a wolverine, half shifter or not. Unless he had a death wish.

  And he needed her. Per Elijah’s demand, Aubrey was the gatekeeper to team acceptance or rejection.

  “Leave now, and I won’t rip your balls off.” A distinct possibility given the hand she had clamped over his thigh beneath the table.

  “I found Nathan.”

  “Like hell you did.” She sniffed and released him. “Prove it.”

  He dragged out his cell phone and brought up several photos, then slid the phone to her.

  Her finger flicked over the top, scanning each picture with a diligent eye. “All I see are pictures of mercenaries—humans, no less. They could be doing anything—anywhere.”

  “I was there the night Sam’s men recaptured Nathan.”

  A soft snarl lit as her eyes narrowed.

  Sweat beaded down Quinn’s back, but he forced his hands to relax and continued. “I chose to go after Sam and the van that had Rayven in order to get Jacob’s help.”

  “A lot of shit help he was.”

  Yeah. “At least she’s alive. There were too many guards for me to take them. The point is…” He flicked back several photos and tapped a picture. “That van in front of the trailers is the same one, with license plates matching the one that took Nathan. Same guys too. I’ve watched the traffic videos along their route—can place them almost to the hour from the capture site to this property. They haven’t left since they arrived.”

  “You got access to videos and searched them.” Her expression hardened, her gaze still a little too close to predator for his liking. “Why would I buy any of this?”

  He understood her reluctance. He hadn’t done much to aid Rayven’s cause in the past. It wasn’t for lack of trying. The stagnant leads and runarounds from Jacob and Sam weren’t his fault. But he’d checked this lead from every angle.

  “Because Breslin Taggart believes me.”

  Aubrey blinked once and sat up straighter. “The enforcer who took Rayven to the trial.”

  “The one who is getting satellite surveillance of the area to confirm our target. And the man whose plane is landing within the hour so he can help us find Nathan and take him to testify.”

  Aubrey’s chair flew backward as she pointed a finger in his face. “If you’re pulling a fast one, Regan, it’s not me you have to worry about. Elijah will string you up and use your tanned hide to clean his bar.”

  She was already in the back hallway before Quinn could respond. Not that he’d have bothered. If this plan didn’t work and they didn’t find Nathan before Rayven’s trial, then Quinn might as well be dead.

  Deacon waited. He knew his mate. When she eyed him with the crystalline gaze of her past profession as a park ranger, Lena wanted answers.

  “If matchmaking is an alpha skill, then you’ve known all along Rayven was his mate.”

  At least she was on the right track, one that saved him from breaking his oath to the alpha council by disclosing details of higher powers. Even mating didn’t grant him the right to volunteer all his secrets. However, answering her questions constituted a loophole of sorts. “I didn’t know Gauthier had a mate, much less a child by her. You’ve seen the network of the clan in your mind. She doesn’t exist there. How could I match them up?”

  “Oh no, no, no. Don’t answer my question with a question. I’d bet cold hard cash you have hundreds of secret alpha powers I haven’t uncovered. There must be more to this.”

  He rubbed his fist over his mouth, hiding a smile he could barely withhold. He looked forward to years of verbal fencing. “I wasn’t certain but—” He considered his answer carefully as he guided her over to the couch, mentally sorting through the timeline of Breslin’s past. Deacon’s instincts and premonitions had started before that time, making the truth of the matter complicated. “Breslin was born in this clan. And even while he didn’t take his oath for many years, I dedicated special efforts in monitoring his activity. As a result, my bond with him is stronger than with some of my other people.”

  “This monitoring tracked him in order to protect others in the clan from your assassin.” Lena frowned. “Breslin’s dangerous, but he’s never struck me as the mercenary or psychotic type.”

  “He’s honorable to the bone.” Much like Lena and the rest of Deacon’s team. But did Breslin’s mate possess the same integrity. “I protected him from becoming the prize possession of someone with more money or power than scruples. Breslin’s value, initially, was due to his bloodline. Bart Taggart, Breslin’s father, was one of the finest trackers in my father’s clan. Only his birth as a cougar shifter kept him from an invitation to my father’s personal team. He and his family lived on the outskirts of Black Haven—beyond the sanctuary boundary.”

  “Because he wasn’t a wolf.”

  Deacon nodded.

  “If he’d been accepted, his family wouldn’t have been subjected to Gauthier’s assault.”

  He was in complete agreement with her on that and was already thinking on to the further complications of a mating between Breslin and Rayven Karndottir. “Perhaps. But some things are meant to be.”

  “I’m not quite sold on fate forcing the paths of those two families…together?”

  “You may be correct. I’ve never met the woman, and I’m not ready to rule her out as a conniving schemer. Frankly, I’d prefer to have witnessed their interaction together.”

  “Because she’s a viper or because he’s hiding some deep-seated desire to use her? Given how he reacted today, the second seems unwarranted. Breslin’s hardly a candidate for a con.”

  He gestured for her to explain. Not for a persuading argument, for he had his own thoughts paralleling hers. Lena’s logic matched his more often than not, but when hers didn’t, he spent time considering her viewpoint. Then again, maybe he just liked to see how her mind worked.

  With a heavy sigh and a stifled smile, she pretended to appease him. “In the brief time I’ve known Breslin, he’s been aloof. You and Callum and the others watch him for angry outbursts bent on making Gauthier pay for his crimes. Yet I’ve never seen him violent or prone to rage. I’m usually good at sensing such things.” She waved her hand toward the kitchen. “Even with Trevor’s persistence to gain his attention, Breslin passively discou
raged him but never rebuffed. He operates carefully within Trevor’s need for acceptance and a safe environment. Not the sign of someone living in his own head and self-absorbed. Definitely not the sign of a sociopath.”

  “However, if he’d turned into one, it would have been my fault. I pushed him hard. I’ll be honest. I wanted him to give up his pursuit of Gauthier—to outgrow it.”

  “Yet you assigned him the role of enforcer.”

  He rolled his shoulders and exhaled as he sought a way to explain his logic. “Usually I select seasoned, and unmated, shifters to take on that role for a short period of time. Situations arise that few others in the clan would be capable of handling, so the pool of candidates is small. Of those who accepted the role, some ended up becoming my lieutenants as they bonded with the communities they protected. Others found their mates and retired.”

  “Your real intent as matchmaker, I’m sure.” She wiggled her eyebrows and then winked. “Yet Breslin came home to you and basically hid here from life for a long time, never satisfying either of your aims.”

  “He was a natural in the enforcer role—enough determination to do the job right with a high personal standard of justice. Despite his harsh opinion of himself, our people trust him to protect them. When he failed to choose a new course, I allowed him to continue in his efforts of eroding Gauthier’s financial base.” Deacon glanced at Lena and accepted the determined gleam in her eyes. She hadn’t given up on her initial question. It was risky having someone close who knew him so well, but he couldn’t begin to place an appropriate value on having a partner with whom he openly shared his private concerns. “I did sense a tug from across Gauthier’s border right after Breslin pledged his oath. We were the only two adults in this very room, and it rang strong and clear, and circumvented me.” He shrugged. “By the time I’d come to recognized the pattern as a potential bond strong enough to override the one he had pledged to me, it was many years later. If he’s sincere about her and—”

  “You’re already certain about him, or you wouldn’t be worrying like this.”

  “Just because he’s convinced she’s innocent doesn’t mean she is.”

  “Gauthier’s personality doesn’t necessarily have any more of a claim on Rayven than your father’s did on you.”

  Except Deacon’s father had carved a path for the choices Deacon made in his life. Rayven would have navigated a similar rocky existence, and the odds of her coming out of that as a decent person were slim. “We’ll find out when she arrives.”

  “Breslin’s not gullible or easily manipulated, though I’ll admit, he seemed a bit…stunned,” she said, her frown marring the normally smooth skin between her brows. He brushed his thumb there and her lips twitched, threatening a smile. “But this woman has two parents. The fact that Gauthier didn’t announce her to the world may indicate she takes after her mother too much for his liking.”

  “His refusal to acknowledge a daughter wasn’t out of character for him. His beast wouldn’t have been able to resist his mating call, but unfortunately the man refused to accept his gift of a child.” As she frowned, he continued. “The term ‘mating’ sounds a bit primordial. The truth is that we have a strong sense for our mates. Our one. The animal wants the companion and to continue the bloodline, and the human side wants the communion and stability—a rare combination. Not all shifters acknowledge the gift for what it is.”

  “Could her birth have triggered the tug you felt?”

  “An infant? No, I suspect the advent of her first shift activated the tug.” He dipped his head, trying to remember the moment. “Puberty is a demarcation for nature and mates, and most males recognize their mates the instant they come within close proximity, often before their mates. But Breslin was closed off to others. As his alpha, I maintained a bond with him and had more experience to anticipate what he might be feeling.”

  “You caught a whiff of the mating call he wasn’t receiving and suspected he had a mate across the border.”

  He winced at the quick synopsis. “Perhaps. I’m surprised it’s Rayven Karndottir.”

  She cocked her head, leaning close for a teasing kiss. “There’s more.”

  As much as he’d rather pursue that kiss to an extended exploration of his sweet mate, he nodded. “After Breslin pledged to me, I extended the sanctuary boundary to encompass his family’s lands.” At Lena’s widened eyes, he shrugged. “I couldn’t bring his family back, but he deserved compensation for their contribution to the clan. Breslin built a small cabin on the edge of the property.”

  “Overlooking his enemy.”

  Deacon shook his head slowly, more certain now with his conjecture than ever before. “Revenge is cold and empty. It isn’t fed by staring out a window at beauty and wilderness. I consider that longing. And a mating pull is a tremendously powerful thing.”

  “Something in him knew.” Lena’s smile was blinding. “When did you realize we were mates?”

  There was the million-dollar question he knew she’d eventually arrive at. “I’d like to say from the first moment I laid eyes on you, but in truth it was your touch that confirmed it for me.”

  “A seductive tug.” She smiled.

  “More like a lightning bolt of lust.”

  Her brows lifted as her lips pressed together. “Yet, you held off. I’d even go so far as to say you tried to push me away for a good long while there—until the feral attack. Both of them.”

  Yes. Having his mate cornered and bitten by feral laboratory-made shifters had ended any debate he had about whether Lena belonged to him. He’d realized he’d waited far too long to claim her. He ran a hand over the top of his head. “We each had a path to follow. Successful mating requires more than phenomenal chemistry and irresistible urges.”

  She nodded and glanced at the ceiling, narrowing her eyes. “Phenomenal. Okay, I like that. Irresistible? Yeah, I’m good with that one too. Good save, darling.” She stood and spun away, striding toward the hallway before glancing back over her shoulder and crooking her forefinger at him. “If you have a moment, I’d like a reminder of phenomenal.”

  He released the breath he was holding and gave her his best lecherous grin. Damn, he loved her. “My pleasure.”

  17

  Rayven winced, her muscles pulling tight as she rolled over, wrapped in blankets. Breslin’s scent teased along her tongue, creating a flutter in her belly. It lingered on the blankets, on the pillow beneath her head, and for a blissful second permeated every pore in her body, easing her muscles.

  She cracked open an eye and swept a glance over the now-cold, dark fireplace.

  A quick listen confirmed no breathing, no movement, no assassin waiting for his moment to pounce. If her memory served her right, Breslin had done more than pounce last night. She’d even—she licked her lips, the now-familiar taste of him still lingering and kicking her pulse higher with the memory of him deep inside her as she tasted his skin. His heartbeat beneath—her eyes flew open, memories flooding in as she clasped her fingers against her lips.

  Oh Goddess, she’d claimed him. Or were her fantasies intertwined with last night’s reality? Her brain was such a muddle.

  With a groan, she sat up. In one glance, she took in the folded pile of clothes on the hearth set beside what looked like her morning meal. But nothing else of him remained.

  The connection she had to him was faint, distant. She wasn’t sure how she knew with such a certainty, but it was as if somehow she tracked him with a personal GPS. He hadn’t just left the cabin and the grounds. The dismal feeling in her gut insisted he’d gone far outside the perimeter of this sanctuary.

  And that left her where, delivering herself to Deacon Black? She struggled into the clothes and then glanced inside the small container. No doubt the aroma of beef and cornbread was meant to tempt her. However, her stomach rebelled and her head throbbed with a headache that wasn’t going to be appeased by food.

  She shrugged on Breslin’s jacket, taking a moment to drop her nose alon
g the inside panel to memorize him. A romantic action and one that left her feeling silly and needy, but there was no one here to judge her, no one to remember.

  Then a new scent assaulted her nostrils. Bear shifter? She moved to the front door and glanced out the side window.

  Sure enough, there was a vehicle outside with an enormous barrel-chested man leaning against the front fender. Wavy brown hair came to his shoulders and almost covered his thick brows. She gathered he’d been waiting awhile, from the tight cross of his arms over his chest and his bored expression as he tilted his head up with a pretense of counting clouds.

  Might as well get this over with, she thought and open the door. “You must be my ride.”

  “You must be Rayven Karndottir.” His cold, assessing gaze lingered a bit too long on the bruises still visible from her wrangle with Sam. “My prisoner.”

  Well, that put everything into perspective. She didn’t bother responding and instead made her way to the vehicle. Surprise hit her when he held out a hand for hers, followed by shock as he pulled it behind her and fastened a zip-tie handcuff to her wrists. Her arm had healed remarkably well, whether due to her beast or some strange healing from Breslin. But she still felt an uncomfortable ache. However, stubbornness was a part of her nature when dealing with larger, potential threats. She refused to let out a peep over her discomfort.

  “I’m considered the local sheriff here, so you’ll be in my custody until Deacon’s prepared to see you. Name is Grizz.” He opened the back door of the SUV and paused with a long sniff. He muttered something to himself she couldn’t quite make out and waited until she’d awkwardly climbed into the backseat. Déjà vu hit her hard as he buckled a seat belt around her, but his attention was nothing like Breslin’s.

  He didn’t bother with conversation or explanations during the ten-minute ride. He certainly didn’t look at her with lust in his eyes.

  She distracted herself taking in the lovely passing homes that grew more frequent the farther he drove from Breslin’s home. What struck her was how more appeared all the way into a small town—so different from her home. Here, a large open square dominated the center filled with grass and shrubs and trees. Here and there, an occasional bench appeared across the landscape.