“Neema needs to be protected,” Isaiah began. “From what I saw at the park the other night, I assume she doesn’t have much, if any, fighting experience.”
“I can take care of my mate.” Teague stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest, his green eyes flat and cold.
“How much fighting experience do you have?” Isaiah asked the group as a whole.
Hank stepped forward, his arms and legs loose, his right hand resting on the handle of a knife he had strapped to his upper thigh. Meredith knew the blade was coated with silver. “I was in the army for several years. I can hold my own.”
“I can fight.” Teague strode to Neema’s side and pulled her into the curve of his body. Neema snuggled closer to her mate.
In many ways, they’d sheltered her and she was still so young and immature. Meredith only hoped Neema had the time to grow and mature into the strong woman she knew the younger female could be. Beneath the shy exterior was a female with a core of steel. She’d seen glimpses of it over the years. Neema hadn’t had an easy upbringing, moving from one foster home to another, always different, never fitting in until she’d stumbled across Meredith and her pack.
“This isn’t simply street fighting.” Isaiah let his gaze wander over all of them, assessing strengths and weaknesses. “These wolves will kill any half-breed they find. Period. You do not reason with them. If they attack, you kill them.”
The brutality of it all washed over her. Isaiah was so matter-of-fact, so okay with the idea of simply killing these males.
“It’s kill or be killed. Beneath the human exterior, we’re wolves,” he reminded them.
Maybe she’d been in the city for too long. Maybe she wanted to block out the violence of her early years. Meredith wished that she could somehow make this problem disappear. She’d wanted a different life for her children.
But that was not to be. You played the cards that fate dealt you. They’d survive this and come out all the stronger for it.
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Do we shift or fight in human form?”
Isaiah narrowed his gaze, his eyes watching the up-and-down strokes of her hands. The motion slowed until it finally stopped, her hands resting just above her elbows.
“At this point, there’s no time to do anything fancy. Do whatever feels best. Hank and Michael will take the point with me. The rest of you hang back and wait. Let’s see if we can get out of this with minimum casualties.”
Isaiah’s head swiveled around to the front door. “They’re here.”
He strode across the room and yanked the door open, facing the three males who stood there. Tall and strong, he braced his legs apart, his wide shoulders practically filling the wide doorway.
Meredith didn’t have time to protest that he wasn’t alpha of this pack, that she was. He’d taken over. For now.
She tensed as Isaiah faced the threat. “You need to leave. You’re not welcome here.” She nearly smiled as his words almost echoed the first ones she’d said to him.
“Are you alpha here?”
“Who wants to know?” Isaiah countered.
The male raised an eyebrow at the challenge, but Meredith glimpsed respect there as well. “Adams from the Black Ridge Pack. Who are you?”
“Isaiah Striker.”
Meredith saw the man jerk back slightly. “Long way from home, aren’t you, Striker?”
“So are you. I’m here to see the sights. You?” Isaiah shrugged, rolling his massive shoulders as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Can we discuss this inside or do you want to risk someone hearing our business?”
Isaiah stepped back and allowed the three males to enter. Their gaze went immediately to her and then to Neema. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose and fury straightened her spine. They were looking for brood mares to bear their young, but they were also here to threaten her pack.
Meredith stepped forward. “I am alpha here. Why have you come?”
The man called Adams raised an eyebrow and glanced at Isaiah. “You let your woman speak for you?”
The male chauvinist ass. Meredith wanted to kick him in the balls on principle. She forced herself to remain calm and composed when what she really wanted to do was attack him.
Isaiah looked totally unconcerned. “She is alpha of this pack.”
Meredith bristled at the assumption that she was only alpha because Isaiah allowed it. She knew he didn’t mean his confirmation in that way, but that was how it sounded.
Another of the men stepped forward. “Then she needs a mate. I’m Spencer and this is Briggs,” he indicated the other man. Meredith’s skin crawled at the way these men watched her. She knew their type. They were like Maxwell, her dead husband. They would take whatever they wanted, the hell with what she or any other woman wanted.
A low rumble came from deep in Teague’s chest as he shoved Neema behind him. Kevin and Benjamin took up posts on either side of her. Hank and Michael spread out slightly to surround the males.
“We received some distressing information,” Adams continued. His gaze flicked to Hank and Michael, but he dismissed them, focusing on Isaiah.
“Can’t believe everything you hear.” Isaiah appeared totally relaxed, without a care in the world.
Adams inclined his head. “True. But this news was very distressing. Seems as though there’s a small pack in Chicago with several half-breeds.” He all but growled the last word.
Again, Isaiah shrugged. “And your point would be?”
He was baiting the other men, she realized. She rolled her shoulders and softened her knees, readying herself to fight.
“Half-breeds don’t deserve to live,” Spencer growled.
“That’s your opinion.”
Adams eyed all the werewolves in the room, his gaze hovering on Meredith. “It’s the only opinion that matters. After I kill your lover and your half-breed mutants, I’m going to claim you and fuck you until you remember what a real male is.” His smile sent a shiver down Meredith’s spine. This was a male who would enjoy subjugating her, hurting her, breaking her to his will.
“After I kill you, I’m going to make your tough hide into a purse.” She paused for effect. “Or maybe a pair of boots.”
Isaiah chuckled, drawing the attention of the three males.
“You find this amusing?” Adams eyes began to glow and his voice deepened. He was close to changing.
“I find the fact that you’d kill one of your own an abomination.” Isaiah didn’t move, but he seemed to grow larger somehow. His long hair brushed his shoulders and his face could have been hewn from pure granite. He was tough and mean and all male. And he was her heart. Meredith couldn’t drag her eyes from him.
“I find the fact that you’d work with bounty hunters a crime against all werewolves. A crime for which you have to pay.”
“Oh, and who’s going to make me pay?”
“Me.” Isaiah sprang without warning, but Adams was ready and met him halfway. The two gigantic men collided in midair.
The other two men took advantage of the confusion and attacked. Hank and Michael were suddenly engaged. It only took a moment for her to realize they were severely outclassed. They had the heart for fighting, for protecting their pack, but not the skills.
Briggs tossed Michael back against the bar. Glasses slid off the edge, smashing to the floor as her son rolled over the top of the bar and off the other side. He took out an entire shelf of liquor as he crashed to the floor.
No one hurt her children. No one.
Meredith yanked at her clothes, shifting on the fly. Her bones shifted and reformed, her jaw cracked and elongated. Teeth bared, claws raised, she jumped on Briggs’s back.
He reached over his shoulder and dragged her off, throwing her aside. Meredith flew through the air, twisting her body so that her side and not her head took the brunt of the fall. The wall came up fast and she struck it hard. She slipped to the floor, momentarily stunned.
Hank and Teague were
fighting Spencer. He was stockier than the other two, but thick with muscles. Both her adopted sons were strong, but they didn’t have the strength of a purebred werewolf. Spencer tossed a chair at Hank. He batted it aside. Teague slid a table at his opponent, momentarily distracting him.
Blood flowed down Hank’s arm and chest. Teague’s face was bloody and he was favoring his left leg.
Meredith shoved herself up, nails clicking against the floor as she launched herself forward. She started to go for Briggs, but saw Isaiah falter. Blood ran down his shoulder. Without a thought to her own safety, she launched herself at Adams.
Isaiah was in the fight of his life. If he’d only had time to convince Meredith and her pack to leave. Having them here split his attention and made him handle the situation in a much different manner. Hell, he’d actually tried talking to the other werewolves, even though he’d told the others not to bother. Diplomacy wasn’t his strong suit, but he’d tried. Anything to protect Meredith.
But they had killing on their minds. He’d seen it in their eyes. At the very least they planned to steal the women for themselves. Meredith would survive, but if they ever found out that Neema was a half-breed, they’d make her suffer long before they killed her.
Adams was a worthy opponent, a dirty fighter. But he wasn’t fighting for his mate, his pack. Isaiah was.
He tossed the large man into a table and went after him. The two of them grappled, knocking aside several chairs and another table. Adams had partially shifted, his fangs had elongated and his fingernails had lengthened into talons. He growled and slashed at Isaiah with his claws. Isaiah jumped back but he wasn’t quick enough. Sharp claws dug a short furrow across his shoulder, drawing blood. Isaiah pretended to falter, wanting to draw his prey into a false sense of victory. He waited for his chance to attack.
A low growl sounded off to his right. He caught a flash of black fur. Saw Meredith jump toward Adams, teeth bared and ready to tear at the man’s flesh. Adams caught her in his strong grip before she reached him and he flung her aside.
Isaiah howled as he watched Meredith fly through the air, her body hitting the wall with a deadly force. Adams took advantage of his inattention, drew a knife and took a swipe at him. The blade cut into Isaiah’s chest. Blood spurted from the wound.
Fury, the likes of which he’d never felt in his life, burst through him. Anger replaced the blood in his body. Determination filled his bones. He ripped his bloody shirt away as he kicked off his shoes and shifted.
Fabric shredded as his body changed. Bones reformed. Deadly claws replaced fingernails. Fangs dropped down from his elongated jaw. He wasn’t completely changed when he vaulted toward Adams. His opponent swung the knife, but Isaiah clamped his heavy jaw down on the male’s wrist and bit clear through the bone. The cracking sound and the resulting scream echoed around the room.
He heard another howl and whirled around in time to see Meredith with her jaw clamped around Briggs’s neck. The male dug his fingers into her mouth, trying to pry it apart. Meredith used her strong legs to push against Briggs’s body, launching herself away from him before he could break her jaw.
Isaiah growled and jumped at Briggs. He hit the other man with his huge wolf body and sent him sprawling on the floor. Isaiah sensed movement behind him and flung himself to the side just as a silver blade went flying past him. The knife hit the hardwood floor with a heavy thunk, the handle vibrating.
Michael was nowhere to be seen. Teague and Hank were doing their best with Spencer, but both of them were injured. Benjamin was injured, but he and Kevin were protecting Neema.
This had to end before one of them was killed.
Blood dripped from Meredith’s jaws. Hers or Briggs, he didn’t know. She was moving slowly, limping slightly.
“Give it up, Striker.” Briggs rolled to his feet, his hand clamped to his neck. “You can still walk away. All we want is the women. Hell, we’ll even kill the male pups quick and easy.”
Isaiah didn’t rise to the taunt. He kept his gaze on Adams who was slinking in behind him. The other male pulled out a gun and aimed it at him.
“Silver bullets.” Adams smiled as he pointed the barrel of the semiautomatic, not at Isaiah, but at Meredith.
Isaiah stilled, waiting for his chance to attack.
The door burst open and a huge black wolf flew at Briggs. Isaiah moved without thinking, launching himself forward and hitting Adams full force.
The gun went off. His leg burned, but he ignored it. He was on top of his victim now and there was no mercy left anywhere in his soul. This male had threatened his woman.
Adams shifted, but Isaiah already had his strong jaws clamped around his opponent’s neck. He used his powerful body to hold Adams down as he tore at his flesh. Blood flowed over his muzzle and down his throat. He didn’t let go.
When the male was weakened, Isaiah shifted back to human form, wrapped his arm around Adam’s neck and twisted, breaking it with a loud crack.
He dropped the body and whirled around, ready to fight. But it was already over. Briggs lay on the floor, his eyes wide open, his neck at an unnatural angle.
Spencer was still alive, but Teague, Hank and Michael were subduing him. All of them looked the worse for wear, but at least they were alive.
Where was Meredith?
Panic filled him. Was she hurt?
The female black wolf was in front of him, teeth flashing, hackles raised as she stared down the massive black male wolf facing him.
Isaiah felt his heart turn over. Meredith was protecting him.
He stumbled slightly as he made his way to her side. His left leg was bleeding and he knew the silver bullet had hit him. He had no idea how bad the injury was yet and didn’t care. Meredith was safe.
Naked, he crouched beside Meredith and placed his hand on her back. Her thick, black fur was soft and glossy. He wanted to bury his face in it and just breathe in her essence. Instead, he swiped the back of his arm over his mouth. It came away bloody.
A massive male wolf sat across from them, waiting patiently, his head cocked to one side. The tension in the room grew. In spite of the gravity of the situation, Isaiah felt the corners of his mouth turning up in a grin. “Hey, brother. Nice of you to drop by.”
Isaiah hunkered down beside her. Meredith felt his hand on her back, caressing her fur. She could smell his blood and her panic increased. How badly was he hurt? They needed to figure out who this strange wolf was and now.
Then Isaiah spoke, and it took her a moment to make sense of his words. Brother. The wolf was his brother.
The large black wolf began to shift. In seconds, the wolf was gone and a man remained. He was tall and broad. His rough-hewn face was familiar. It was easy to see the family resemblance.
Meredith shifted. Her body ached, but she knew she’d be fine in a day or so. That might not have been the case if Isaiah and his brother weren’t here. She owed him. Both of them.
Normally, nudity didn’t bother her. She was a werewolf after all. Still, it was disconcerting to meet Isaiah’s brother wearing nothing but her skin.
Isaiah swore. “Ben, give me your damn shirt.”
Her son didn’t hesitate. Before she could protest, Isaiah was slipping Benjamin’s shirt around her shoulders. He stood in front of her, blocking everyone else’s view of her as he tucked her arms down the sleeves and did up the buttons. The tail of the shirt came down to the top of her thighs, covering everything important.
She drank in the sight of him. There was a wound on his shoulder and several gashes on his chest. But it was the blood flowing down his leg that worried her the most. Isaiah acted as though nothing was wrong. His hands were steady, his eyes clear and calm as he finished fastening the last button.
A male throat cleared. “You want to introduce us?”
Meredith peeked around Isaiah’s shoulder at the very large, naked male standing in the middle of her wrecked club. He was a fine specimen of a werewolf, but he didn’t make her blood pump har
d and hot, not like Isaiah did.
She held out her hand. “Meredith Cross.”
He took it, enfolding her fingers in his much larger ones. “Joshua Striker.”
Isaiah reached around and gently disengaged their hands before dragging her beneath his arm. Joshua raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“Thank you for helping.” Meredith couldn’t quite manage a smile but her gratitude was genuine.
“My pleasure,” Joshua said. “I would have been here sooner, but I stopped for some backup.”
“What the hell are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you,” Isaiah added.
Joshua shook his head. “I got a strange phone call telling me you were in trouble and giving this address. I was already on my way to Chicago when I got it or I might not have made it in time.” His gaze flicked to Meredith. “You didn’t sound like yourself during our last call.”
Meredith wasn’t sure how she should take that. Thankfully, she didn’t have to speak.
“You Strikers are more trouble than you’re worth.” A surge of dark power encompassed the room. Meredith gasped as a tall, dark male strode into the place like he owned it. Deadly menace poured off the stranger in waves. This was no werewolf. If she wasn’t mistaken, this was a vampire. She’d seen one once, years before in New Orleans, and she’d hoped never to repeat the experience.
“Damek.” Isaiah inclined his head.
“Is that him?” Damek motioned to the werewolf currently being held down by Hank, Michael and Teague.
“That’s the only one left alive,” Joshua informed him.
“Hmm.” Damek strode forward and everyone took a step back. Everyone except Joshua and Isaiah. “There was one of those nasty bounty hunters outside. I imagine his job was to watch the carnage and report back to his masters.”
He stared at Spencer, and for the briefest of seconds, Meredith felt sorry for the wolf. Damek swiveled his head around and stared at her. Isaiah growled and tightened his hold on her.
Damek ignored Isaiah and motioned to her sons. “Let him go.”
They glanced at her. Or rather at Isaiah. When he nodded, they stepped out of the way, releasing the wounded werewolf. Damek struck with the speed of a cobra. One moment he was standing chatting with them, the next his fangs were in Spencer’s neck.
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