by KH LeMoyne
Deacon glanced at his charge and then noted the others in the room. “Rayven, this is Alpha Alarico, his mate and female alpha Bibiani, and of course, Alpha Sheridan. I wanted to give you an opportunity to meet some of the board members before the tribunal.” He made a point of turning to Whit. “The tribunal is supposed to get to the bottom of your father’s murder, not become foregone conclusion.”
A young boy’s laughter echoed from the hallway.
“I believe that’s her escort now,” Deacon said before Trevor made his appearance in the doorway.
Sliding to a stop in the doorway, Trevor smiled at Rayven. “Brindy said she needs you again to refund her search.”
She didn’t hide her responding smile. A fact noted by every alpha in the room. “I suspect you mean refine her search. Are we done?” she asked, looking up with barely a hint of the anxiety Deacon felt across the temporary clan bond. He nodded, and she dipped her head and left without a backward look at anyone in the room.
“Self-controlled and difficult to read,” Whit remarked. Not at all pleased, if his scowl was any indication.
“She maintains a remarkably cool disposition for someone facing a potentially dire fate.” Alarico looked to his mate.
Bibi shook her head. “I believe she’s fighting her fear and winning. Her response was mature, especially given she doesn’t know what her place is with any of you. But I’m sure she read that intrusive surge of power in this room as well as the rest of us did.” She pursed her lips and drew in a deep breath. “I find it commendable she didn’t take offense at such an obvious probe.”
Deacon didn’t respond. It was too soon for him to play his hand, but Lena took the opportunity, as he’d hope she would.
“From what I’ve learned of her, her interests center on issues other than slights or her own safety.”
“Espionage?” Whit snapped quickly.
“Locating shifter children abducted for drug testing,” Lena countered as she stared Whit down without flinching. She turned to Deacon. “You mentioned they were aware of our situation. Perhaps now is a good time to share notes.”
“If so, Ms. Karndottir’s protective instincts also distinguish her from her father’s views,” Alarico added.
Deacon was silently pleased with the observation. “Lena is correct. We’ll need to set aside some time to go over what you’ve found on the kidnappers since our last call. I have a suggestion, and a slight complication, regarding an individual who can find a solution to this medical problem.”
Before Deacon could comment, Whit continued. “I’ll admit I didn’t sense anything from her. If she killed her father to grab his power, she’s hiding it very well.” However, Whit’s gaze narrowed toward the doorway. “That doesn’t mean she didn’t kill him.”
Fair enough. But if these two men were searching for a crack in Rayven’s armor, they hadn’t detected one. Deacon counted this entire test a win.
Rayven rolled her shoulders and leaned back in her chair, watching Brindy’s fingers fly over the laptop keyboard. She sucked data from one window and flew to the next at a speed incredible even for a shifter. “You’re amazing at finding information.”
“I started young. My dad worked for our local lieutenant. I had access to Marsh’s computers from the time I could walk. When I was old enough, he gave me a part-time job working for the clan.” She paused to check a beep from her phone, frowned, then typed a quick response and shoved her phone into her pocket without comment.
Rayven watched her, fascinated. Brindy struck her as not only bright but a wellspring of energy—a one-woman machine. “And now you work for Deacon, and I guess help Breslin.”
Rousing from where he sat next to Rayven with his head on top of his arms on the table, Trevor finally chirped up. “Breslin is going to teach me how to fight.”
“Is he now?” Rayven could almost visualize the tall, silent enforcer instructing a youngster, and she didn’t blame Trevor in the least for his selection of tutor. “I’d like him to train me too.”
Trevor beamed as if he didn’t often get encouragement on this particular subject. “Then I’ll be able to move—” He whipped out of his seat and spun around on the floor, attempting a high jab through the air with his foot. “And kill all the bad guys so I can be Lena’s second.”
“My, that’s quite a goal,” she said. Yet his excitement dipped. Afraid he’d taken her comment as sarcasm, she added. “He does a twist, where he spins in the air and kicks with both his feet before he lands. Very effective. That would be the one I’d want to learn.”
Brightening again, Trevor nodded. “He did that on the mountain.”
“Really?”
“When everyone came to save my mom.”
Rayven’s heart swelled at the obvious trust and excitement barely contained in the child for a man most adults considered too dangerous to risk friendship with. Or perhaps it took the innocence of a child to accept the protective and quiet strength as reassuring while adults perceived it only as a threat. What wouldn’t she give to have her clan filled with men who evoked such trust? Role models for the next generation.
Instead, there were too many like Sam and Jacob. Karndottir’s reign ensured that male shifters of strong moral fiber died or remained hidden to safeguard their families.
Trevor canted his head as someone called his name from the hallway. “I gotta go. See you later.”
Brindy looked up from her computer screen for a moment and flashed an almost reluctant smile. “I get it now, though I’ll admit I was surprised. I’ve never seen Breslin fall for anyone, but he has it bad for you. It makes sense. You’re not afraid of putting yourself out there for people. Not for Trevor or Deacon, much less Breslin.”
Rayven sensed Deacon’s approach behind her. “Brindy.”
Even she could read the censure in the tone.
Brindy pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. Rayven could have sworn the woman was holding back a laugh. “Just working on details and evidence. No fun. No secrets. Just focused, focused, focused.”
Rayven let her laugh go, feeling relieved for the first time since Breslin had left. Everyone had been very hushed about even saying his name around her. So much so, she’d begun to wonder if she’d imagined everything between them over the last few days. Except a feeling of him remained with her. She endured the painful tug in her heart that let her know he still existed. Puzzling since he wasn’t even in Alpha Black’s territory.
However, she realized the fun was over as she glanced at the stern expression on her temporary defense councilor’s face. “Will any of the alphas be staying in your house?”
Deacon shook his head. “They will all be staying in town. For their safety and yours.”
“Who would they need to be protected from? I’m no threat to them.”
“Actually, they’re a threat to each other,” he added with a wry smile. “By definition, alphas don’t play well with each other.”
“You seem to get along with the ones I’ve met so far. And, you and Lena are”—she was suddenly embarrassed in case she’d misread the overtures of help—“are civil and helpful to me—an accused murderer. If you believed me guilty, at least you’re not letting it interfere with helping in my defense.” Bringing them back to the reason why sitting in Deacon’s kitchen wasn’t a comfortable chat but a death knell for her with a ticking clock.
A chime on Brindy’s laptop went off.
“That’s my signal to get to the plane,” she said as she snapped the laptop shut, ducked her head, and left the room.
22
Breslin’s boots ate up the distance between the prairie grass to the thick scrub and tall pines up the hill. He didn’t have the luxury of second-guessing whether he should have handed off Hazel with the enforcers heading to cut Nathan and the others off before they cleared the area. But his gut told him that if the child in his arms shifted forever into her rabbit form, her life would be short. Unable to interact with other shifter children and at risk
of being mistaken as a true rabbit, she’d have insufficient options for defending herself and rank low on the food chain as well, making her prey for every wild animal around. Better that he put her at a smaller risk now with him and save her future as a shifter, than condemn her to an unthinkable life. It didn’t sound any better when he played it over again in his mind, though he had little choice.
If he made it deep into the conifers and the thick underbrush, he could hide her somewhere beside the rushing stream he heard. On the off chance that they became trapped by the wildfire, at least he’d have her near water.
Breslin slowed and traipsed through the trees, lifting Hazel so she couldn’t look away. “I have to stop these men, and I can’t do that holding you. We need to make another deal.”
She clutched his shirt tighter.
“I’m not leaving you. You’ll be my lookout. Somewhere close but safe.” He ducked beneath a low-hanging limb and headed for moss lining the low ridge ahead. Ash fluttered in the air along with clouds of smoke and the telltale crackle of fire. His ears picked up the rustle and yips of small creatures scampering for freedom.
Damn. The wind must have shifted again. An advantage if he were fighting alone, with the freedom to move wide and taunt his attackers. For now, he needed to find a single, closed-in location that allowed him to defend himself and limit attackers. Reaching the stream, he crouched and set Hazel beside him. He ripped his shirt over his head and dunked it in the water, soaking it until the plaid colors turned dark and unrecognizable from the saturation.
“Sniff,” he instructed her as he raised his nose in the air in example. When she scrunched her nose, he pointed upwind. “That’s smoke from fire. Normally, we run from fire. But I’m going to cover you with my shirt to keep you safe, and we’ll find a secret place for you to watch until we can leave.”
She didn’t respond and continued to stare at him with disturbingly trusting pools of baby blue. Muscles tightened around his lungs, and he fought that unfamiliar sense of a new bond. Hell, just when he’d located Nathan and delivered him for Rayven’s acquittal, Breslin had bound himself to another innocent victim of Gauthier’s negligence.
“I promised I’m not leaving you, but for the new part of our new deal, I need you to stay quiet while I fight these men. No matter what.” He placed his hand over the phone still hanging on the chain around her neck. “I don’t want them to know you’re here. No matter how scared you get. Can you do that?”
With a frown, she nodded. She didn’t even whimper as he draped the wet shirt over her, looping the collar over her head and buttoning it until only her face showed through the hole. He tied the arms in front of her and the bottom tails around her feet until she was one wet toddler bundle. Not impervious to smoke and fire, but a bit resistant.
She ducked her face into the cloth and sniffed, then rubbed her cheek there as if imprinting his scent on her skin. His heart skipped a beat.
Well, whatever it took to make her feel comfortable, for the icy prickles traveling down his spine warned him of a hard battle ahead. No easily dispatched human mercenaries headed his way.
Shrugging off the tension in his shoulders, he focused instead on the area he’d chosen to make his stand. A narrow spit of land between a steep slope on one side and the waist-high and several-yard-wide stream on the other. An old tight copse of trees claimed the slope, their exposed roots running from the ridge to the creek like gangly arms.
After a quick shift, he turned his cat toward those open roots and paced before each, dipping his head inside and assessing the best hiding spot. Finding one halfway up the slope that satisfied both a closeness to the water and a good view for Hazel, he dug his claws in a furious motion, creating a child-sized hollow large enough for her to wiggle in and turn around. He did the same beneath several other trees to spread his scent and mislead any of the approaching enforcers.
Finished, he turned back to Hazel and shifted back into his human form, bothering only with jeans, then pointed toward the hole in question. Ultimately, this would only work if she agreed. And while his seasoned instincts hated that his success or failure might hinge on the capriciousness of a terrified child, so far, she’d proved herself a determined survivor. If they survived today, she’d be stronger for choosing without him bullying her.
Giving her time, he focused on the heavy scent of burning pinecones, dead tree limbs, and sweet sap. Layered within that fear-inducing char was the smell of more of Jacob’s team.
Breslin initially anticipated three shifters. From the multiple mixed scents and vibration beneath his bare feet from stampeding paws, it appeared, he’d have more like five or six to defeat. If he was lucky, the fire might make one or two reconsider whether it was worth sacrificing themselves for a man who didn’t even hold an alpha title.
No matter what they thought, Breslin now had a few surprises of his own.
He glanced back again at Hazel. From her knit brows, she seemed uncertain about his suggestion for her hidey-hole, but she met his gaze and gave him a tiny nod.
“That’s my brave girl.”
He scooped her up and tucked her deep beneath the roots and out of sight. He pulled a fallen limb from the creek, heavily laden with dripping leaves, and dragged it across the roots to cover the entrance. He crouched again, widening a space between the branches with his fingers so they could see each other. “Now remember. No matter how scary, don’t make a sound.”
A snarl broke from just over the ridge, barely leaving Breslin enough time to move back to his spot by the stream. The spit and flare from the fire eating its way from one dried tree limb to the next flickered at the edge of his view. Fifteen minutes. That was all he had to finish these losers and get Hazel out of the burning inferno to safety.
First one, then a second large wolf snout appeared over the side of the ridge. A third came into view several yards farther down the tree line. Dark bronze, nearly ruby, eyes glistened from all three with an intensity bordering on feral. But these wolf shifters couldn’t claim feral frenzy as the reason for their blood lust. Whether born with the need to abuse others or just unlucky enough to have an alpha like Gauthier who pushed all the right buttons, they’d become weak-minded and vicious creatures. And Breslin had listened carefully to all of Rayven’s history. As far as he was concerned, every enforcer in this territory had earned their despicable reputation by choice and deserved a hard death. He felt no sympathy for them, only cold-steeled rage.
The three wolves slinked down the slope toward him, choosing the age-old cowardice of a multi-person attack. He sensed more than saw the shadow of a large brown bear behind them on the ridge and a wolverine inching his way along the water’s edge.
In hindsight, he wished he’d left Hazel a blade. Not that he usually carried one, and who gave a toddler a weapon? But wolverines sported some wicked claws.
He spun slowly, taking in the wolves. He held out his hand palm up and curled his fingers, motioning them forward.
The closest wolf lunged across the ten-foot space for his neck, no doubt expecting a quick annihilation. Instead, Breslin delivered a swift half-formed cougar paw, fully equipped with razor-sharp claws along the wolf’s face and another set of claws down its chest, digging deep into the heart muscle. Wide-eyed shock reflected in the partially red-tinged eyes as the creature gargled its last breath and dropped like a stone. He felt a brief satisfaction at again experiencing his new power of partial shifting. He suspected the gift was tied to his connection with Rayven, a power she’d need as much as he did.
Breslin didn’t have time to verify the kill before the next two barreled into him. Not bothering to fight in human form, he twisted and shifted. Clamping his jaws around the spine of one wolf, he flailed it before him as a shield against the second. In the back of his mind, he counted the precious moments ticking by as the wolverine crept closer.
Moments he couldn’t spare. With a tight crunch, he crushed the spine of his victim and met the next wolf in midair. They swirled an
d landed hard by the tree roots. The wolf scrambled and kicked with its hind claws, gouging Breslin in the stomach. But another quick slash with his claws to the wolf’s hindquarters and a low-gutted hiss, and that attacker scuttled backward, dragging a worthless leg and giving his spot to the wolverine.
The bear landed with an uneasy thud beside the wolverine just as a flaming limb from above crashed behind them.
The remaining wolf whined and slunk away. Breslin paid him no mind, for the wolverine’s eyes were now fixed on Hazel’s hiding place.
A small explosion overhead sent more of the wildfire’s inferno showering about them. The bear stomped left and right, eyeing the fire and shaking sizzling debris off his fur. Breslin chose the distraction to spin and snap at the wolverine’s back. A calculated move with harsh consequences.
Pain exploded from Breslin’s neck, across his shoulder, and down his back in a white-hot sheet as claws ripped through his flesh.
Fucking bear. Breslin swiveled and flung the wolverine at the bear’s face. In a fury of squeals and hisses, claws and sharp teeth ripped into bear fur.
Same team or not, the bear clutched the wolverine to his chest, claws digging into the vicious creature. Even being outweighed ten to one, the wolverine still didn’t go down easy. The battle raged as the metallic scent of blood filled the small space, quickly drowned out by smoke.
Despite their orders to kill him, it seemed Jacob’s team held only the bitterest of contempt for one another. The bear looked victorious. And the wolverine, while not quite limp from its pathetic wounds, made no headway in getting free.
