Wolf Hunt

by Paige Tyler

  But as they moved farther down the stairs and into the first section of loose cargo, it quickly became apparent there wasn’t going to be a gunfight, running or otherwise.

  “Guys, I’m not picking up any active scents down here,” Brooks whispered. “No one has been in this part of the ship for at least a half hour or so. That doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.”

  Remy cursed silently. Something was definitely off with this raid. It was like there was no one home, which was crazy since the ship was obviously still fully loaded. There should have been tons of people down there, prepping the stuff for off-loading. Not to mention the fact that there should have been some armed guards protecting the drugs that were supposed to be here.

  He and his pack mates weren’t the only ones thinking there was something wrong. The four NOPD officers who had split off and headed for the bridge came on the radio with a status report, saying the bridge was secure and that even though the captain and several of his men had been there, they hadn’t resisted.

  “Same in the warehouse.” Drew’s voice was terse in Remy’s earpiece. “There were two guards on duty, but they were just sitting at a table playing cards when we came in. I swear, it was like they knew we were coming.”

  A moment later, Lorenzo came on and announced he was bringing the drug dogs in, but Remy already had a sinking feeling it was going to be a waste of time. Either the drugs had never been here, or somehow Aaron Lee’s people had known the police were coming and had gotten the drugs out before they’d even arrived.

  “Guys, over here,” Brooks said.

  Remy looked up to see Brooks standing near an open door in the darkness on the far side of the cargo hold. No doubt it led to a storage room, but from the look on Brooks’s face, it wasn’t pallets of potato chips that had attracted his attention.

  As he got closer, Remy picked up the slight chlorine-like chemical smell coming from the room. This was where the drugs had been hidden.

  Remy stepped past Brooks into the room and followed his nose over to the far wall. Eyes narrowing, he looked closer and realized one section of it was a removable panel four feet high and three feet wide. He ran his hands along the edges until he found the cleverly hidden grips. Grabbing hold of them, he moved the section of wall away.

  The chlorine-like odor wafted out, stinging his nose and making his eyes water. Meth was a simple chemical formula, so it could be difficult to pick up sometimes. In theory, the smell could belong to any of a hundred different industrial compounds. But a person didn’t go to all the work of creating a hidden storage compartment on a ship to conceal pool cleaner. Combine a chlorine-like odor with a secret contraband space and you get a meth shipment.

  While the compartment was big enough to hold three or four large duffle bags, it was empty now.

  “They knew we were coming,” Zane said from behind him. “Bloody bastards moved the crap right before we got here.”

  “Put the wall back,” Brooks said. “We’ll let the dogs find the hidey-hole.”

  Remy replaced the section of wall with a muttered curse. He’d hoped like hell they’d be able to take down Aaron Lee and his operation. In some stupid way, Remy had convinced himself that sending Lee to prison today would set things right with the poor young girl who’d overdosed the night before. Unless they had better luck in the warehouse, they were going to have to wait a little longer to take down the scumbag.

  * * *

  Remy and his pack mates spent over two hours down in the cargo hold helping Lorenzo, his narcotics team, and the drug dogs with their search. As expected, the K-9 team alerted on the back wall of the equipment room, finding the empty hidey-hole. Lorenzo was just as disappointed as Remy and his pack mates had been, especially when a thorough search of the rest of the ship turned up absolutely nothing. The warehouse had come up clean so far too.

  “I don’t know how, but that son of a bitch Aaron Lee knew we were coming,” Lorenzo said as they headed out of the ship to meet up with Drew. Stocky, with close-cropped black hair, the Hispanic police officer looked like he was ready to blow a gasket. “The asshole saw this coming from a mile away.”

  Lorenzo was probably right, considering that when they stepped off the ship, they had found a large black Cadillac parked in front of it with Lee and a couple of his goons leaning casually against the fenders.

  From what Remy remembered, Aaron Lee had grown up working the docks of the Mississippi. Even though he must be approaching his late fifties and there was some gray in his otherwise dark hair, the man was still built like an ox. He had the bearing of an extremely confident man and the aura of a criminal who’d thumbed his nose at the police in New Orleans longer than most of the cops on this scene had been alive.

  Seeing the arrogant glare Lee threw their way as they approached him, not to mention his slow and relaxed heartbeat, Remy could understand how the man had maintained his grip on the city’s criminal enterprises for so long. It was obvious the guy had absolutely no fear of the law. Hell, it wouldn’t have come as a shock if they’d discovered the man was a complete psycho who didn’t even know how to feel fear.

  “Ah, Detective Claiborne,” Lee said, giving Lorenzo an insincere smile that was somehow able to convey both amusement and violence. “I should have guessed it was you violating my civil liberties.”

  Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed. “No one is violating your civil liberties, Mr. Lee. We have a search warrant signed by a judge.”

  “I saw.” Lee’s lip curled. “One of your fellow jackbooted thugs waved that little piece of paper in my face. Signed by Judge Thibodeau, wasn’t it? Isn’t he running for reelection soon? Seems like a strange campaign plan, sending police to harass a potential voter like myself.”

  Lorenzo crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re not here to harass you. We’re conducting a search for illegal drugs.”

  On either side of him, Lee’s goons let out derisive chuckles. Lorenzo had shown Remy and the other SWAT cops photos of Lee’s personal-security-slash-lieutenants during the mission briefing, and while both men wore similar amused expressions on their ugly mugs, the two couldn’t have been more different.

  There was Shelton Quinn, a muscle-bound guy easily as big as Brooks. The man had a shaved head and a couple tattoos showing on his arms and neck that looked like they’d been done in a prison or someplace equally primitive. According to Lorenzo, Quinn specialized in physical intimidation and breaking everything from kneecaps and heads to spirits. From the looks of him, it was obvious the guy spent a good portion of his life in the gym, though the sour scent coming off him seemed to indicate at least some of those gains were the results of steroids or something more exotic.

  The other guy, Chad Roth, was whipcord lean with wiry muscles he liked showing off under a tight athletic shirt. His dark hair was trimmed close to his head, with three parallel lines etched in it above his right ear. The man seemed to have a thing for gold earrings, too. He had three in each lobe that glinted brightly against his dark-brown skin. It wasn’t the unusual hairstyle or the earrings that caught Remy’s attention though. Instead, it was the man’s calculating eyes. As he watched, the thug scanned every cop in front of him—not in a quick, shifty manner, but with an intent look that told Remy the man was memorizing every detail he took in.

  When Roth got to Remy and his pack mates, his eyes narrowed at the sight of the DPD patches on the front of their tactical vests. He locked gazes with Remy, staring straight at him. Remy stared back.

  Lorenzo had said Roth was the smarter of the two lieutenants, and even though he’d only been associated with Lee’s organization for a few years, it was likely he’d take over running the show someday, assuming Lee ever stepped aside.

  Remy listened with half an ear as Quinn ribbed Lorenzo about how the search for drugs was going, asking if maybe the cops needed some help looking, since it was obvious they didn’t know what the hell they were do
ing. All the while, Aaron Lee stood there with a smile on his face, letting his lieutenant have his fun with the narcotics detective.

  Roth slowly slid his gaze from Remy, casually taking in Max, Brooks, and Zane. Remy watched the man’s open perusal, trying to understand the funny vibe he was getting off the guy. Whereas Lee was calm and serene inside, sure the cops weren’t going to get anything off him, and Quinn was a pile of juiced-up energy, getting off on his chance to stick it to the cops, Roth wasn’t putting off anything. He wasn’t merely calm; he was shut off. Like a dead man walking. Remy had never experienced anything quite like it and couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it meant the guy was a cold-blooded serial killer.

  “Search as long as you like, Detective Claiborne,” Lee finally said, interrupting Quinn’s fun. “You’re not going to find anything, but you can be sure that my lawyers will be talking to the city about the damage you’ve done to my property, as well as the amount of income lost waiting for you and your cop buddies to finish here. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the reimbursement came out of your paycheck.”

  Lorenzo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything as Roth opened the back door of the Caddy for Lee. Before climbing in, Lee turned to regard Remy and his pack mates thoughtfully before looking at the narcotics detective.

  “I always thought you and your people were incompetent, Detective Claiborne, and bringing in outside muscle isn’t going to help you pin something on me.” Lee’s mouth twitched. “Not unless they can sniff for drugs better than your dogs.”

  With that, Lee climbed into the backseat of the car. Roth went around to the passenger side while Quinn got behind the wheel.

  As he started the engine, Quinn gave Remy and his pack mates an amused look. “Ruff, ruff, little doggies. Ruff, ruff.”

  Beside Remy, Max growled under his breath. “You wouldn’t be laughing if I sank my little doggy fangs in that steroid-filled ass of yours,” he said as Quinn drove away.

  “You can bite his ass if you want,” Remy said softly. “Me? I’m going for his fucking throat.”

  Chapter 5

  The sun was just going down as Remy headed to the voodoo shop to pick up Triana for dinner. He still couldn’t stop seething about how badly the raid had gone. They’d stayed at the docks for another three and a half hours after Aaron Lee had left, checking every little nook and cranny of the warehouse and the cargo ship. As Lee had predicted, they’d found nothing. And while the drug dogs had alerted on several places within the warehouse, they hadn’t found any actual crystal meth. It was frustrating as hell, too. Not only because they knew Lee had slipped the meth out shortly before they’d gotten there, but also because the man had been so damn snide about the whole frigging thing.

  Lorenzo had promised them this wasn’t over, that Lee would have to store the meth somewhere in the city until he could get around to breaking it down into smaller packages.

  “Breaking that much ice down and stuffing it into baggies is going to be a slow process,” the detective added. “My informant will get word to us soon, I can promise you that, so keep your phones on. When we get the next warrant, I want to move fast.”

  Remy prayed Lorenzo was right, but he wasn’t holding out much hope. Lee hadn’t gotten where he was by being sloppy.

  He shoved those thoughts away as he opened the door to Gemma’s shop. The one thing he didn’t want to do was ruin his evening with Triana because he had a bad taste in his mouth over failing to bust Aaron Lee. He’d been looking forward to spending time with her all day. The moment he walked inside and breathed in Triana’s scent, it was like a heavy, wet blanket lifted off his shoulders. Everything seemed lighter and he found thoughts of Aaron Lee and his freaky lieutenants fading away.

  “There you are,” Gemma said, coming out from behind the counter to give him a hug. “I was worried that if you didn’t get here soon, Triana would primp until she passed out. That girl has been working it in front of that mirror upstairs for nearly two hours.”

  “Mom!” Triana scolded from the top of the stairs. “Don’t tell him that.”

  Gemma laughed, her dark eyes dancing as Triana started down the steps. “Why not? I’m just subtly letting Remy know how much effort you put into this date, so he makes sure to properly show his appreciation.”

  Remy laughed, but the moment Triana’s bare legs came into view on the staircase, her smooth, light-brown skin flexing as she carefully descended each step in her heels, the sound caught in his throat. The sight of her in the flowing yellow sleeveless dress was enough to ramp his heart rate up to the danger zone. Combined with her long, wavy hair, smoky makeup, and flowery perfume that accentuated her natural scent, the complete package was almost enough to make his heart stop beating altogether. Damn, damn, and double damn! Right then he was as sure as heaven above that he’d never met another woman as beautiful as Triana Bellamy.

  She held his gaze as she sidled over to him, her head cocked to one side, the tip of her tongue just touching the center of her upper lip. All at once, her heart sped up and her body put off the most delicious aroma on the planet. It was the same scent of arousal that had surrounded her last night as they’d kissed. The mere hint of it made him go hard in his jeans. The idea of saying the hell with dinner and heading straight for “dessert” was suddenly the only thing he could think about. His fingers itched to scoop her up and carry her back upstairs. He might have done it, too, if Gemma hadn’t spoken.

  “Cold shower, anyone?” she asked, a knowing smile curving her lips.

  Triana blushed. “Mom!”

  Gemma only laughed as she went behind the counter.

  Even though Triana still smelled as delectable as before, her mother’s words had achieved their desired effect. The trance Remy had been in was broken, and while he was still aroused as all hell, at least he was back in control. Another minute and he would have been panting.

  Remy took a deep breath, then cautiously walked over to Triana, moving slowly to make sure he wouldn’t go all wolf and jump on her. Fortunately, while his hard-on definitely seemed to approve of getting closer to the object of its affection, nothing crazy happened.

  Unable to resist touching her, he ran his fingers down her arm. “You ready for dinner?”

  Triana nodded, casually intertwining her fingers with his. Remy stifled a groan. Damn, even that simple touch felt good. A little voice in the back of his head suggested his intense reaction to something as vanilla as holding hands probably meant something significant, but he shoved it back in the cluttered closet of his mind, and it shut up.

  “Definitely,” Triana said, completely missing the fact that he was temporarily caught up in a distracting internal dialogue. “I’m starving.”

  He motioned toward the door. “After you,” he said, enjoying the way her hips swayed as she walked in front of him.

  “Good night, Mom,” Triana said over her shoulder as Remy opened the door for her. “I’ll probably be out late, so you don’t need to wait up.”

  Gemma laughed. “Have fun, you two.”

  Triana’s hand found Remy’s again as soon as they were out on the sidewalk, and he tugged her a little closer so he could enjoy the way their arms brushed against each other as they walked. Neither of them said anything for a while, instead simply enjoying the pleasure of being in each other’s company. Considering how keyed up he’d been just a few minutes ago, it was kind of amazing how relaxed he was now that he was with Triana. Sexually aroused, yes, but pretty chill other than that.

  “The weather is so perfect tonight,” she finally said. “It’s hard to believe that stupid storm is still out there in the Gulf.”

  “Tell me about it,” Remy said. “I checked the weather before coming to pick you up. Ophelia barely moved more than a mile today and the so-called experts still don’t have any idea whether it will keep moving toward Texas or turn toward Louisiana. At least it’s not gett
ing any stronger, which is good. But as far as where it will make landfall, they’re pretty much in wait-and-see mode.”

  Triana smiled at him. “Well, at least we know she’s not coming this way tonight, so there’s nothing to get in the way of our dinner date.”

  He paused midstride to lean in for a quick kiss that ended up being not all that quick as he got a taste of her lips. His cock hardened even more at the slight hint of her tongue, and he had to remind himself that they were on a public street. If they hadn’t been, he might have been tempted to pin her up against the nearest wall and go exploring under that flowing yellow dress.

  “Absolutely nothing to get in the way of our dinner date,” he agreed after pulling away to get his breath back.

  They walked along again in silence for another block or so until Triana spoke. “Speaking of dinner, are we going anywhere in particular?”

  “I made reservations for us at Muriel’s, if that’s okay with you?”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “I’m not going to complain if you want to take me to Muriel’s, but you know we don’t have to go somewhere that fancy, right?”

  He smiled. “I know. But I thought since this is kind of a reunion dinner, it should be kind of special. Like you.”

  Triana’s lips curved. “Remy Boudreaux, you got all smooth on me in your absence, didn’t you? You realize flattery really will get you everywhere, don’t you?”

  He chuckled and nudged her shoulder with his. “Promises, promises.”

  “Actually, it is a promise. But I think you already knew that.”

  Remy felt his jeans tighten uncomfortably and his heart rate climb back up at the heat in her gaze. Damn, she was going to drive him insane before they even made it to dinner.