PacksBrokenHeart

by Gwen Campbell

  The prime golden-brown female stepped between him and the black male. She rubbed the top of her head against their cheeks, licked their snouts, leaned her smaller body into theirs.

  Owen’s wolf stayed in the clearing longer than it normally would. He accepted play overtures when they were extended, sniffed other wolves when they held themselves still for him. There were few in this pack he knew, fewer that knew him and he gave them an opportunity to learn his scent, gauge his strength. A few single prime bitches strolled by, cocked their tails as they passed, gazed at him with sultry sideways glances. He smelled what was offered but took it no further. The pull the golden-brown female had on him was too strong. She was approached by other wolves as well. Owen’s wolf could smell she was new to this pack too and he saw how seamlessly she made herself part of the group. The easygoing way she had of demonstrating her strength without rubbing it in anyone’s face.

  The black wolf stayed close to both of them and they stayed close to him like a sun and its orbiting planets.

  Finally, when Owen’s wolf was itchy with the need to run off its residual foolish anxieties, he howled, crying out an invitation, and took off through the trees with the black male, the golden-brown female and every other wolf still in the clearing racing and yelping with joy in his wake.

  “So what do you want me to say to him when we get there?” Owen stretched in the passenger seat of Tom’s pickup.

  Tom snorted and as a concession turned down the volume on his favorite country and western station when Owen’s hand twitched in the direction of the radio. The man did have an unnatural hate for the glories of country. “I thought you’d be able to figure that out yourself.”

  “It’s early. We went to sleep late. Some help would be appreciated here.”

  “All right. His name is Brodie Dell and he’s our dispatcher. Well, was our dispatcher until he took a leave of absence. I need him to come back to work. Hell, for his own mental health he needs to come back to work.” Tom pulled up in front of a neat bungalow with a big spring-bare vegetable plot on the south side.

  A pretty middle-aged female wearing a nurse’s uniform let them in.

  “Hey, Missus Dell.” He touched his hat to the female who’d let them in. “Hey, Brodie,” Tom said as a male with dark circles under his eyes hoisted himself out of a living room recliner. “Thought I’d bring Owen around to say hi.”

  Brodie Dell was an inch short of six feet and broad in the chest and had the beginnings of a pot belly. His short gray hair was rumpled and his blue eyes looked as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.

  From the kitchen, Tom smelled fresh coffee brewing. He figured Owen could use another cup but Brodie had the look of a man who was being held together with caffeine and prayer…and the caffeine just wasn’t cutting it anymore.

  “Sit down, boys,” Brodie offered. He waved a tired hand at the comfortable-looking sofa and chairs ringing the room. “I’ve heard good things about you, Owen.”

  “Well, I’d like you to see firsthand and make your own opinions,” Owen said. There was an honesty in his bluntness that always took the sting out of it. “Word has it you haven’t left this house since Ed’s murder except to go to his funeral. You didn’t come to Cory’s.”

  The older were flushed and looked out the window.

  “That’s not an insult,” Owen continued. “Just an observation. Why haven’t you gone back to work?”

  Brodie blinked, looked at Tom then Owen. “Every time I think about it all I can see is Ed’s empty office. The way he left it that morning.” He ran his hand over his face. “The sound of his voice that morning over the radio when I sent him to…” Brodie’s voice dried up and, with his elbows planted on his knees, he hung his head.

  Tom stood and laid his hand on the back of Brodie’s neck. Although he didn’t lift his head Brodie leaned into the touch like he was accepting the comfort being offered. The pain emanating off the dispatcher was raw and familiar because not a day went by that Tom didn’t feel it too. Difference was he’d been born with just enough strength to keep him functioning through one day into the next.

  “Do you need more time or do you need to quit?”

  Owen’s deep, nonjudgmental voice was what finally brought Brodie’s head up. There was a long pause before he finally answered, “Quit.”

  While Tom wanted to rail against the older were’s decision, against the evidence of his perfectly understandable frailty, Owen simply nodded. Not for the first time Tom hated Owen’s ability to distance himself and think clearly. He also envied it.

  “Do you need to find another job?”

  Brodie shook his head. “No. I’ve put in enough years at the sheriff’s department that I’ll be able to draw a full pension.”

  “All right.” Owen nodded slowly. “Tomorrow you will get your ass out of that chair and you will get yourself down to the community center and put in six hours of volunteer time.”

  “Huh?” Like before, Brodie blinked, only this time he stared up at Owen blankly.

  “Six hours, four days a week. Minimum. You have any special skills?”

  “He’s real good with cars.” Brodie’s mate came into the living room and set down a coffee tray. “Changes the oil in mine and keeps the engine tuned better than either mechanic in town.”

  “Fine,” Owen said with that confidence and finality only true Alphas were capable of.

  Too bad the male couldn’t hear it himself. Tom held back a grin as he looked over at his friend.

  “We’ll see about starting up a course in basic auto maintenance. ’Course it’s mostly females who come to the center during the day. As long as your beautiful mate won’t mind.”

  “Charmer,” Brodie’s mate teased right back. “He always did like working around females more than males. He’s good with kids too.”

  “Even better.” Owen accepted the cup of coffee she handed him then turned back to Brodie. “Tomorrow we’ll talk about what else you can do around the center. For now let’s see about getting your head around stepping out the door. Your guilt is stinking up your mate’s clean house.”

  A little while later, outside Brodie’s house, Tom leaned against his pickup and adjusted his utility belt. He watched Owen’s eyes track the movement. As with so many WTF moments lately, he didn’t mind the idea of another male looking at him like that, so long as the other male was Owen. Even without Suzanne between them he felt stronger, more comfortable in his skin when Owen was around. He looked at Owen’s mouth and remembered the taste, kind of like coffee and chocolate without the cloying sweetness. That permanent furrow between Owen’s brows drew his attention next. A male that young and good-looking shouldn’t have wrinkles yet it suited him. Owen was always too serious and demanded too much from himself, especially now that he’d resigned himself to stepping into the void Cory’s death had created. Somehow it was fitting Owen carried the mark of that responsibility front and center.

  They turned when the front door opened and Brodie stepped out onto the porch. On tiptoe, his mate pressed a kiss to his mouth, waved at the other males, got in her car and drove off to the clinic to work.

  “Thanks for giving me a ride to Piper’s,” Owen said as Brodie walked up to them. The older were was freshly shaved and his hair was still damp from showering.

  “Like you gave me a choice,” Brodie grouched but there was no venom in his voice.

  “All for a good cause. Besides, Tom needs to get to the station.”

  “Speaking of which,” Tom said. He held out his hand to Owen. “Give me the keys to your truck.”

  “Why?” Suspicion colored Owen’s voice but he fished around in the pockets of his jeans anyway.

  “It’s still parked at the station. I’ll drive it back to my place when I finish my shift. Suzanne can drive my truck.”

  “Why don’t I have Brodie drive me there and—”

  “Because I’ve never driven a new pickup and that’s one sweet ride you’ve got. I’ve been wanting to get behin
d the wheel since that day I pulled you over.” He snagged the keys out of Owen’s hand and turned to Brodie. “Suzanne’s been assigned to keep watch on him and me. Part of the surveillance network for ranking members and potential leaders in the pack.” He gave the older were a moment to let that sink in. “That’s a big reason why we need you out of the house. I’ll respect your decision to quit the force. I don’t like it but I’ll respect it. But you know police procedures and you can work as part of Owen’s surveillance detail. We need your eyes and ears out there because you can identify what’s suspicious and what’s not.”

  Nodding slowly, Brodie squared his shoulders. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

  “You can also bring some tools with you,” Owen ordered as he headed for Brodie’s vehicle. “Show your Alpha’s widow some respect and change the oil in her car while we’re there.”

  Brodie grinned at both of them. “Yeah. I can do that too.”

  After he tended to pack business at Piper’s and had lunch Owen had Brodie drive him to the community center. On the way through town it was hard not to notice how few people were out on the streets. There were way too many free parking spots for a Friday, although the pharmacy seemed to be doing a booming business. Probably weres dropping in to meet the new pharmacist and make sure the cash kept flowing for Piper’s sake.

  More parents than usual showed up for the after-school programs, like they were nervous about letting their pups out of their sight. Owen introduced himself to the new faces and he seemed to impress most of them with how well he knew their children. He also took the opportunity to find out more, to ask about the pups’ strengths and interests.

  He took notes and talked about existing programs, speculated about potential ones then got down to the business of finding out what the parents’ skills were. The center needed more volunteers and not just babysitters either. They needed adults who could teach classes with real-life applications. Maybe even make kids aware of hobbies and careers beyond the scope of their daily lives.

  Owen could relate to that one.

  He chalked the day up as a success when he got two adults to promise volunteer hours. One female, a timid low-ranking were whose mate was a long-distance trucker, actually blossomed when he asked her to take on administrative duties. Lord knew he needed help with the paperwork and she seemed keen to take on the job. He also liked the no-nonsense bark in her voice as she shepherded a group of rowdy cubs away from the refreshment table that had been set up for that evening’s line-dancing class.

  When he yelled at kids it was a coin toss whether they’d obey or cry.

  Yet another skill set he didn’t want, didn’t need but sure as hell was going to have to work on.

  Just after five o’clock he said good night to Gerry, thanked the caretaker in advance for locking up later on and made his way to the police station. The fresh air smelled good and the exercise loosened the knots in his back from too much sitting behind a desk.

  “Hey, Wally,” Owen greeted the humongous, plain-faced were. In the parking lot beside the station Deputy Sheriff Wally Pierce was just stepping out of his personal vehicle. “You on duty tonight?”

  “You bet,” Wally answered with a wide smile. “We’re going to catch those murdering bastards,” he said quietly after he’d looked and made sure nobody was within earshot. “And I aim to be the were to bring them in.”

  “I like your attitude.” Owen clapped him on the back and followed him inside.

  The station was unnaturally full and every deputy sheriff ready to go on shift made a point of greeting Owen, asking after Piper, about his day. Simple, short, everyday conversations that made Owen acutely conscious of how much even the police deferred to him.

  Working at a desk in the middle of the station, Tom lifted his hand in greeting then returned his focus to the computer monitor in front of him. Although the state had officially granted him the title of Temporary Sheriff, at least until the next election, Tom hadn’t taken over Ed’s office. Owen knew the space would make doing the job easier but he liked the respect Tom showed his dead Beta by not moving in too quickly.

  Owen made himself comfortable in the chair on the other side of Tom’s desk and waited for the male to finish up work for the day.

  “How was Brodie out at Piper’s?” Tom asked without looking away from the screen.

  “Good, as long as he was busy.” Owen shrugged. “I kept him busy. I told him to clean out the garage. Geoff and Ty helped. They seemed glad to have something to do.”

  Tom grunted. “I’m sure they were. Keeping busy helps.” His nose moved as if he was scenting the air then he looked up. “Hey, Suzanne. Any trouble on that last call?”

  “No.” She set her broad-brimmed hat on an empty desk, smoothed back her hair and took off her parka. “Just a couple of kids messing around back of the lumberyard after school. Had a chat with their parents. They seemed anxious to take care of it themselves.”

  “Good call,” Tom said and flashed her a grin.

  When Suzanne walked past Owen she paused long enough to run her cheek against his temple. “You smell like you’ve been hanging out with the kids at the community center.”

  “Yeah?” He heard his voice get deeper, seductive even—if a guy like him was capable of something so subtle. “And what does that smell like?”

  “Tapioca and wet boots.”

  “Nice. Thanks.”

  Chuckling, Tom finished typing. “Okay,” he said. “I’ve got an ad on the state ethernet about an opening for a dispatcher.” He handed a colored piece of paper to Owen. “And if you could post this at the community center we’d be more than willing to train if the right were applies.”

  “Consider it done. You want to tell Brodie first or do you want me to do it?”

  “What do you think?”

  Owen mulled it over for a moment. “You know him and you’re his boss. Okay, interim boss,” Owen corrected when Tom’s mouth thinned. “You tell him. Tell him I’ll post the ad the day after.”

  Tom nodded curtly. “Sounds good.” He switched off his monitor and stood up. “Ready for roll call,” he barked and every deputy in the place quit their own conversations and turned toward him. Moving around his desk, he leaned against it, one boot planted on the floor and the other swinging freely. “State forensics lab has identified the treads on the truck Ed’s killer used. Weight and wheelbase say it’s a Ford but by now the killer’s probably taken the snow tires off. The tracks behind the pharmacy are different.”

  “Different how?” one of the deputies asked. “Regular versus snow tires?”

  “Different width. Heavier vehicle, maybe even commercial weight. That backs up Owen’s theory that we’re dealing with more than one killer.”

  Hearing his name, Owen sat up a little straighter. Huh. Not only was he getting sucked into leading this pack, now the police were following up on his ideas. It also dawned on him that every deputy sheriff probably knew he’d been taken down by dog spray trainers but nobody’d busted his chops over it. He hated that he was getting to like these folks more with each passing day.

  “Damn. That’s scary,” another deputy said quietly.

  “Check your onboard computers.” Tom resumed talking. “We’ve got two stolen cars reported out of Lander, a BOLO for a senior with Alzheimer’s, although he probably won’t get anywhere near our county, and Missus Howlett’s gate got left open again.”

  Owen felt his brow furrow when the sheriffs started chuckling.

  “Missus Howlett is a human who lives outside of town and breeds prize-winning dachshunds,” Tom told him as if that explained everything.

  “Yeah,” another deputy added. “Every time one of the German Shepherds at Fairwind Kennels comes into heat those stubby little dogs make a break for it.”

  “Well, then they shouldn’t be too hard to find.” Tom was grinning ear to ear. “Just be on the lookout for a line of dogs carrying stepstools. Dismissed.”

  Still chuckling, the deputies
headed for the door.

  Beneath the noise Owen heard Tom’s stomach rumble.

  “Whadya say we pick up supper from the diner on the way to my place?” Tom said. “I’m sick of cooking and you two just plain suck in the kitchen.”

  “No argument here,” Suzanne replied.

  “Same here. And we should get one of those berry pies too. Listen, Tom, I was thinking about that forensics report you got earlier in the week saying two different guns were used—”

  “Deputy Ray.” The front door had burst open, cutting Owen off. Three young weres stormed into the office. They stood on the other side of the counter, smelling like hyped-up bravado and looking far too aggressive for their ages and sizes. All three of them glared at Owen before the first one resumed talking.

  “We want to talk to him.”

  Leaning back on his desk, Tom casually crossed his arms over his chest. “You do?”

  Standing, Owen moved to the public side of the counter, assumed a comfortable stance and didn’t bother to mask his irritation at the whelps’ rudeness. “About what?”

  “About…about Sheriff Timberman.” The young were’s voice lost some of its confidence but he pressed on anyway. “Yeah. How come you show up only a couple of days after he’s murdered and all but move into our Alpha’s house? And now our Alpha’s dead too.” The young male stepped forward until his chest was almost touching Owen’s. “You’ve been strutting around here like you own the place and some of us have got something to say about that.”

  “You do?” Owen’s voice was calm, his words measured. Wally and Suzanne were newcomers too but he noticed these kids weren’t asking about them. Mentally he was calculating how many of the kid’s bones he could snap before his buddies figured out what was going on and rushed him. The thought cheered him up for a second or two, until he made himself admit a non-physical response was the more prudent choice. “You’ve got balls, kid. I admire that. You’re also a bucketful of stupid jacked-up on adrenaline. What’s your plan? Challenge me, take me down with a right jab to my solar plexus, helped along by that roll of coins you’re holding? Tsk, tsk, boys.” Owen grabbed the were’s wrist, turned it up and back. The roll of coins hit the floor before the kid had even yelped in pain. Owen let go so the young were could rub his owie. “Then maybe your buddies will bum rush me. Or they’ll hold my arms while you wale on me? Hmm? Was that it?” Stepping up to the other weres, Owen spotted the sweat beading their foreheads, smelled the uncertainty rolling off them. “I’m feeling helpful this evening so go ahead.” He held out his arms. “Take hold. Take me down.”