Kenny (Shifter Football League Book 2)

by Becca Fanning

“We have four on patrol, sir.”

  “Double it. If you see anyone who looks like a police officer, shoot the prisoners. Brock was warned. I’m losing patience with that man. Where is he?”

  Chapter 19

  Brock Tandell went straight to his office and locked the door. He would obey his instructions to the letter, the absolute letter, but he would not go one step beyond them, and he would twist them any way he could. He sat down at his computer and started typing.

  Jameson,

  I am going to the warehouse I own on behalf of my clan. I have attached a map to this warehouse. I am going there because I believe my clan and my assistant are being held hostage there by the terrorists who may or may not have escaped City Hall today. You must not come to the warehouse, not right away. They will shoot the hostages if they see police. I am going in to rescue them.

  I need something from you. I need an assurance that any person with a gun pointed at me, or at one of my friends, is indeed a terrorist. I need you to confirm that you would authorize the use of deadly force in their apprehension. I need this because I am going in there to free my friends at any cost. You know they are hoping for violence. They want to show the world what a monster is capable of. I will need your help to spin this into a heroic act, not one of pointless violence.

  I am not going alone. I will have help. I cannot tell you more. Have your men in a backup position where there is no chance they will be seen. When all hell breaks loose, we’ll need backup. Just don’t shoot anything on four legs.

  Brock

  He hit send and then dialed a number he rarely had reason to call.

  When the werewolf alpha answered, Brock said, “Mathew, it’s Brock Tandell. I need your help.”

  It took longer than he hoped to get everything in order, but there was no further contact from The Human Order threatening his friends, so Brock made his way calmly to his car. He smiled at people in the halls, nodded, said ‘hello,’ and tried to keep the smile plastered to his face.

  There were no cars parked in front of the warehouse, but it was far from deserted. There were two men on the roof and he spotted three milling around the property. He assumed those three were part of a larger patrol unit. He would have ignored them, but the one coming around the corner gave him a two-finger salute. He nodded in response. The plan was under way.

  He adjusted his shirt and strode up to the building. A man in a bulletproof vest opened the door for him. He stepped inside and paused.

  They had Remy, Jules, Jane, and Gia tied up, but they were spread out across the room. A good plan if you expected someone to try to rescue them all without any of them getting caught in the crossfire. Gia’s father was seated on a chair near the center of the room. Philippe and Patrick were on hands and knees, barely covered by their hospital gowns. Both men were breathing hard.

  His attention settled on the man with the too-friendly smile on his face striding across the room toward him. The smile didn’t hide that this man was a predator.

  “Brock Tandell, I am glad you came. I am more pleased that you followed directions. I was beginning to worry.”

  “And you are?”

  “Forgive my manners. I am Jean-Baptiste. And now that you are here, we can begin.” Without warning, he punched Brock hard in the stomach. Brock hugged his stomach, but the blow didn’t drop him, so Jean-Baptiste followed it up with a sharp blow to Brock’s jaw. Brock staggered back.

  “This is pointless,” Brock said, breathing heavily. “What do you hope to gain from beating the shit out of me?”

  “I only have to hit you until you shift. And then we will fight in earnest, and we will capture the whole thing on camera. When the world sees a werebear brutally attacking an innocent man, they will finally see you for the monster you are.”

  “If you wanted me to shift, you only had to ask,” Brock said. He straightened up and pulled his shirt off. “I’ll gladly shift for you.” The belt went next and the metal buckle clattered on the cement floor. He worked methodically and smoothly, taking his clothes off without rushing or delaying. All the while Jean-Baptiste watched with that arrogant smile.

  Brock glanced at his clan leader. Remy shook his head. Unless Remy spoke, issued a direct order not to change, Brock could choose to ignore him. And for this to work, he had to shift. Because the bear could take a lot more damage than the man could. He turned back to Jean-Baptiste.

  “Have you ever seen a werebear shift before?”

  “I was at the airport. Your friend’s display was quite impressive.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want you panicking.” Taunting the man with the gun wasn’t smart, but none of this plan was smart. It was pure desperation built on trust and a lot of luck, luck that might not hold out. But he was out of time. He had to trust blindly now that everything would fall into place and that no one he had come to save would end up hurt.

  He took a deep breath and began the change. It was still close enough to the full moon that the change came easily. That was good. It would take less energy and would leave him stronger for what was to come.

  Gia had seen Brock shift before, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. It wasn’t just that he was naked— she’d seen that before too, and she was too frightened and angry to be aroused by it now. The change was something otherworldly and unexplainable. She was sure that it would always take her breath away.

  While Brock changed, Jean-Baptiste motioned to two of his men. They marched up to the two wounded shifters and started kicking them. Jane sucked in a breath. “No. A wounded werewolf in werebear territory? This is not good. This will not be good.”

  It didn’t take long for Philippe and Patrick to begin their change as well. Jane had been right; wounded shifters changed faster and easier. When Brock rose to all fours, fully changed, he wasn’t alone.

  “You’re armed,” Gia shouted. “A bear attacking an armed man who has invaded his territory isn’t such a monster.”

  “He won’t be attacking me. I’m the hero here,” Jean-Baptiste replied, taking a step back.

  Without warning, a man grabbed Gia’s father and hauled him to his feet. A large hunting knife appeared in the man’s hand and he slashed Giancarlo’s arm. Bleeding profusely, he was thrown across the room. He stumbled to a halt in front of a massive wolf.

  Gia’s heart was pounding. All three animals were sniffing the air. The scent of blood was calling to them. She was sure these men would let them tear her father apart before shooting. They wanted blood and violence on camera. They wanted to manufacture the proof they needed, and cleaning up the loose end that was her father only made sense. It didn’t make it easier to watch. Neither did the fact that her father had betrayed her.

  Giancarlo backed away slowly, but it wasn’t doing him any good—the animals had his scent now.

  Remy started speaking something in French, his voice low and gentle. The bears looked at him. So did Jean-Baptiste. The terrorist pulled a handgun from his belt and pointed it at Remy.

  “If you do not want your brains on the floor, you will shut up. Now.”

  “Yes, sir,” Remy said.

  Giancarlo was crying as he backed away. The wolf was stalking him, his body low and tense. Even if the bears did nothing, the werewolf would tear him apart. “Please,” Giancarlo said, his voice trembling. “Not like this.”

  The warehouse door opened and a man in a bulletproof vest walked in. “Sir, we have a situation,” he said.

  “What kind of situation?” Jean-Baptiste said.

  “This kind.” The man stepped fully into the room and the gray bodies poured in from behind him. Ten massive wolves spread out across the room as men began to shout.

  Gia watched in horror as Brock charged at Giancarlo, butting him across the room with his massive head. She shrieked, but the sound was lost amid the shouting and the gun fire.

  Most of the men were not trained to fight—they weren’t soldiers. They were men who had been united in hate only to find they were fracturing again i
n fear. They ran, their shots going wild. Gia pulled herself across the floor to her father’s side. He was breathing but unconscious. She curled against him and watched in horror as werewolves hunted men all around her.

  There were bellows from around the warehouse, and she saw Jane and Remy and Jules shifting. Their clothes and their bonds tore as their bodies grew and stretched. Growls and snarls and bellows mixed with the screaming and the gunfire. Gia wanted to cover her ears, or her eyes, but her hands were still bound.

  A man just in front of her raised his gun to fire, but he never got the chance. A bear, smaller than Brock’s bear with a marking on its chest, barreled the man over. It raised up on its hind legs and came down hard on the man’s torso. The man screamed but made no move to get up. The bear gave a satisfied snort and moved on.

  As if the situation wasn’t confusing enough, the door burst open again and armed men in complete police combat gear poured in.

  “Everybody down,” they shouted over and over until their voices gained ground in the din. The massive pitch-black bear bellowed, and all the werebears moved toward him, away from the police. The wolves moved to another corner, somewhat reluctantly, many of them with blood on their muzzles. The men abandoned their weapons and dropped to the floor.

  Brock was the first to change back to human, and he stood before the police completely naked, his hands in the air. “They’re going to shift back,” he said. “All of them. Just ignore them and do your jobs.”

  Officer Jameson barked an order and the police spread out, collecting weapons and cuffing men. Jameson approached Brock, his eyes on the bears behind the mayor. “So much for not hurting humans, huh?”

  “I’m hoping the clans will understand what we did here, and why we had to do it. Otherwise I will not live to see these men go to trial.”

  “Pretty clever, calling in the wolves. We wouldn’t have thought of that.”

  “They didn’t either. Werewolves are very territorial and resent werebears living in the same city. But New Orleans is different—here people seem to build on their differences. Maybe that’s why we were taken off guard by The Human Order.”

  “A pretty speech. Save it for the media. And for God’s sake man, get some clothes on.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He was lucky; he could dress. The other shifters had no clothes on hand. The werewolf who had stayed human to let the others in said, “Don’t worry, I have a duffel bag outside in the bushes for the wolves. Will the police let me fetch it?”

  Jameson nodded. “Just leave your gun with one of the officers.”

  The werebears were not so lucky, but emergency services were arriving to help with the wounded and soon everyone was wrapped in oversized blankets.

  “I need coffee,” Jane said.

  “I need a beer,” Philippe put in.

  “Where’s Jean-Baptiste?” Brock said. “Excuse me.” He joined Officer Jameson by the door. “I need to look at the men you’re taking away. I want to make sure that the ringleader didn’t get away.”

  “There’s nothing we can do right now if he did. We have our hands full with the ones we did manage to catch. The EMTs won’t let you into the ambulances, and it would be smarter for you to have no contact with the men we arrested. When we get them booked, we’ll bring you photos and you can ID him from there.”

  “I hope he didn’t get away. If he did, we’ll be looking at a whole new set of problems somewhere down the line.”

  “If he did, you can give a description to our sketch artist and we’ll put out a warrant for his arrest. Maybe one of his men will give him up. Those wolves did a number on these guys. They weren’t in full combat gear, just vests, and vests don’t protect your arms and legs from fangs.”

  “Brock, a few of the wolves were shot,” Remy said, coming over.

  “Have their alpha escort them to the EMTs,” Brock said. “If the alpha maintains control, the wounded wolves won’t be a problem.

  “Is that your assistant?” Jameson said.

  Brock looked across the parking lot to the fleet of ambulances. Gia was sitting on a box wrapped in one of the gray blankets. She was rubbing her wrists and talking to a man in a paramedic’s uniform. Brock nodded. “That’s her.”

  “I thought she was at your house.”

  “She said it wasn’t safe there because of the fire.”

  “She didn’t seem stupid to me. How did they get her here? Kidnapping?”

  “Probably used her father to lure her down here. They did that once before.”

  He shook his head. “You think she’d know better.”

  “We do stupid things for the people we care about.”

  “Where is her father?”

  “Just after I shifted, one of the terrorists cut his arm. They were using him to bait us into attacking.”

  “Then he’s probably in one of the ambulances, though if it was just a cut I would expect him to be sitting beside his daughter complaining about his suit.”

  “The wounded wolf, he had the blood scent. To save Giancarlo’s life I had to knock him out of the way. The bear doesn’t always understand subtlety.”

  “Ah, that makes sense. I need to get an official statement from you and from the other hostages. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

  “You’ve got my car surrounded, so I think I’ll stay here until you tell me otherwise. How did you keep the media clear?”

  “Road blocks. I’ll be back to talk to you.”

  Brock rejoined his clan members at the far end of the warehouse.

  “That was stupid,” Remy said. “They wanted you to shift, they wanted blood and violence, and you gave it to them.”

  “No, they wanted the shifters to maul an unarmed man while they shot and killed the shifters in his defense. Besides, now the footage is in the hands of the police, and Officer Jameson has assured me that he can make us look like heroes.”

  “We attacked humans, Brock. It will take a lot to make us look like heroes after this. I have to tell the clans about this. You tried your damnedest to save us, and we may all die yet.”

  “But we’re still alive now,” Brock said. “And every minute we’re alive is hope that we won’t die anytime soon.”

  “How did they gain access to the warehouse?” Jameson asked as he and Brock sat down. The other werebears were all being led to various corners of the warehouse by officers to give their statements of the events leading up to the rescue.

  “I’m betting that’s what they were after in the office attacks,” Brock said.

  “So the money was a decoy?”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt for a second that they would have robbed me blind if we hadn’t frozen the company accounts. I still don’t know where they got their money from, but they wouldn’t have turned away my money for any reason.”

  “Your assistant had an answer to that, by the way.”

  “Gia? How is she? Was she hurt?”

  “A little scraped up, a few bruises. She looked pretty shaken, but she didn’t need to go to the hospital. One of my officers gave her a ride home.”

  “I thought she would have gone to the hospital with her dad.”

  “Oh, he got a police escort as well. Turns out that Giancarlo was funding The Human Order in an attempt to bring down your company. Is there any chance she was working with The Human Order too?”

  “No.”