by Anne Marsh
“Promise,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere but inside and I’ll be back.”
“Promise,” he agreed and his slow smile lit up his face.
###
Flipping open the prepaid cell she’d stashed at the house for emergencies, Riley stared at the numbers. Dialing felt too much like admitting defeat, but she couldn’t afford to be stupid about this. Reinforcements were wise and she needed to clear the safe house. So while her fingers punched in the familiar number, she told herself it was okay to feel that way.
As long as she did the smart thing, she could hate it every minute of it.
“Hey,” she said when Eli picked up. “I need you.”
“On my way.” Her brother turned his head away from the receiver and bellowed something to Cruz and Jace. Figured all three brothers were hanging together. Not only did they work together on the local volunteer fire and rescue, but they shared a single ranch house while they built themselves new places on as shared lot in their spare time. Given how much time they spent working, she didn’t expect those houses to get finished anytime soon. Plus, she’d long suspected the do-it-yourself approach was an excuse to park their asses in lawn chairs with a cooler of beer and ogle power tools.
Someone—Cruz, she’d bet—cursed in the background and then Eli’s attention was back on her. “You still hiding out in the bayou backwater?”
Eli preferred city living. More action on the police force, he’d explained, like that said it all. Her brother needed to keep busy and her “bayou backwater” didn’t offer much variety in the way of dating, drinking or head-cracking, although the place boasted more than its fair share of power tools and firearms. Funny how that wasn’t draw enough, but they all dealt with their shifter sides in different ways.
“At the safe house, but I need to move the women before sunset.”
They’d helped her set the place up, sending her women who need a get-of-town-quick pass. They’d also helped her with the security system.
“Did you call the sheriff?”
No. Because even she followed certain rules. “This wasn’t police business.”
“Riley—” Affectionate impatience colored his voice. “You always say that. You call and I come. That’s the way this works and always will, but sometimes it’s quicker and safer to go local.”
“This time it’s true.” She swallowed. “This is shifter business.”
There was silence for a moment on the other end. “Hell. I’m not going to ask if you’re sure—”
“I am.” The existence of a previously unknown pack of Louisiana werewolves was going to piss Eli off to no end.
“Because,” he continued, “I figure things have to be pretty bad for you to be voluntarily calling us.”
She loved her brother, but she didn’t have time for this. The sun set in four hours. “What do you know about vampires?”
###
Dag had no idea why this bayou town meant so much to Riley. Maybe it was the safe house where she’d stashed her girls.
Probably.
More than likely, even. Riley was loyal through and through, and she’d agreed to protect these women. He knew how she felt. He might not have met them, but imagining what had happened in their lives pissed him off.
He went nowhere until he knew she was inside, safe and sound. She fished a key out of her pocket, he noted, and used it, so the front door wasn’t unlocked. That was unusual enough for bayou small town life that he felt marginally better. Of course, he was probably the only passer-by wondering how hard it would be to kick the door in or go round the back and bust in a window.
She’d made him promises. This time, he knew, she’d be keeping those promises too. He hadn’t tricked or teased her. Hell, all he’d done was ask her. Maybe she was finally coming around to his way of thinking. Or maybe she plain wasn’t suicidal and understood precisely how great a threat the vampire heading this way was. She was smart, likely smarter than he was.
But she’d let him take the lead.
Let him look after her.
The door closed and he heard the sound of a lock snapping into place, followed by a deadbolt. Good. He moved out, checking out the surrounding blocks for signs of vamp activity. The place checked out clean, however, so an hour later he jogged back to Riley’s safe house and plotted his next move.
It took less than hour to finish his recon. The town simply wasn’t that big, and the vamp’s stink was all over the perimeter. The faster Riley moved her women out of town, the better. When the sun went down, shit was going to hit the fan and he didn’t want her humans in the mix. He put in a call to the Pack—Luc needed to know what was up—and then hightailed it back to the safe house. A white van was parked outside, and two broad-shouldered men were ushering a woman and three children inside. The door slammed and one man made a return trip to the house.
Riley was inside.
And he was out.
That didn’t work for him, although he understood her concern. Her girls wouldn’t welcome any kind of male, let alone one who looked like him. But if she was inside, he was getting in. Going around the house, he picked a spot beside the eight-foot security fence and stripped down. Shifting, he leaped easily to the top and then down inside the garden. The place smelled good, all herbs and local plants.
He didn’t have to wait long before someone emerged from the garage behind the house, a tall, broad-shouldered woman who smelled like baby powder and apples. The beat-up suitcase she pulled listed sideways. She sucked in a breath when she spotted him, clearly weighing a hasty retreat. “Oh.”
Not Riley. This woman smelled more tentative and wilder. Like a shy thing that had been scared and wanted nothing more than to dart back inside to safety. Since he wanted Riley to come out, he lifted his head, wagging his tail. No scaring Riley’s females. She hesitated, clearly not sure whether she should run for the screen door or step over him.
“Riley? Did you bring a dog with you?” She sounded doubtful on the dog part, but he wouldn’t take offense.
There. His Riley stepped out onto the porch, lugging a bucket of tools. Grease streaked her face and the faint purple shadows beneath her eyes worried him. She rolled her eyes when she spotted him sprawled on her porch, but she didn’t look surprised. “Yeah. He’s mine.”
“I didn’t know you had a pet.”
Mischief lit up Riley’s eyes as she looked at him. “He’s new. I’m still training him.”
She could dream. He wasn’t sure if she was serious or teasing, but he could have told her he didn’t follow orders well. Luc had tried for centuries and Dag still chose his moments to listen—and to rebel. Like keeping Riley Jones, when his Alpha wasn’t convinced she wanted to be kept.
Riley set down her bucket and headed for him, bare feet slapping on the porch.
“Is he safe?” The speaker clearly had no intention of passing him until her question was answered. Would Riley tell the truth? He knew she’d hidden her own shifter nature from these women, but things had changed. They had a vamp headed for them and these women were at risk, whether they knew it or not.
“Honey,” said a second woman hovering inside the door, smoothing her hands down her blue-and-white checked housedress. “If you believe the answer is yes, we got to work on your definitions some. There’s nothing safe about that dog.”
“He’s awful large.” The woman with the suitcase shook her head. Dag did a quick headcount. Two occupants left inside, plus the family already waiting in the van. “Do you think he’s part wolf?”
“Sit,” Riley said to him and his head snapped back with the surprise of the command. She ducked inside before he could complain, however, and he didn’t want to startle these women. No, he wanted them gone. So he’d wait a few minutes. See if she came on back or if he had to go inside after her.
He eyeballed the sky—still several hours left until sunset—and then ambled towards the suitcase lady, who stood her ground. Good. When she reached out a hand and tentatively stro
ked his fur, her soft fingers dug deep into his ruff. The wolf liked that plenty, tongue lolling out. Keep her relaxed.
“He’s a bit of a mutt,” Riley said, coming back outside. She laughed. “Hell if I know what he really is, but wolf barely covers it.”
To his eternal shock, her hands circled his throat. A collar snapped close around his throat and he barely bit back a growl. Oh, she didn’t.
“Sorry, Ellie. I should keep him tied up. You guys hurry up and get in the van now. We need to get you out of here.”
Gently, he caught her fingers in his teeth.
“Riley?” One of the women backed away cautiously. Wise woman.
Only she moved and her sleeve fell away from her arm. Dag got a good look the bruises mottling her forearm, because she was no shifter and so she didn’t heal fast. Yellow and green now, Riley’s woman had been sporting those injuries for a good week or more because she was only human and hurt.
His snarl surprised him. He didn’t know what he wanted, but he didn’t want any member of Riley’s pack hurting. They could be his. If she’d let him join. He thought about that for a long moment, finding the possibility strangely appealing. His wolf had already decided, rubbing against the other woman’s legs, marking her. If she belonged to Riley, she belonged to him as well.
“Dag—” Riley put on a hand on his back.
“He’s friendly?” Ellie didn’t sound so sure.
Hell.
He’d spent a lifetime learning how to be a predator. Lap dog wasn’t in his repertoire. But he didn’t like the bruises or the scent of fear. Ellie clearly hadn’t been here in Riley’s house for long. If she had, she would have felt safe and she wouldn’t have sported bruises up and down her arms. Giving in to his instincts, he gave the wolf free reign and the animal licked the woman’s leg, eliciting a half-laugh from her.
Riley looked down at him and nudged him with her bare toes. “I think he likes you.” Laughter filled her voice and her face was full of sweet sass. She wasn’t scared of him. Around her, he could be just Dag Breaux—or the wolf.
“He’s playing, aren’t you, big boy? He’ll keep me company while I finish up here. You guys go and I’ll be right behind you.”
With a reluctant nod, the other woman disappeared inside the house. Moments later, he heard the door slam and voices from the street. The women would be off soon.
So he had time to deal with his stubborn, lovable, too-defiant Riley.
She’d pulled her hair back in a messy ponytail, swapping his ratty old T-shirt and her torn jeans for an even rattier T-shirt and cut-offs. Her legs, holy Christ, her legs went on for a miles and he wanted to shift back right now and run his hands up her legs. Starting with her ankles, he thought, and then up, up, up until he had his hands wrapped around her hips. Her feet were bare and someone had painted the nails with a pale blue polish that sparkled in the sunlight. She wore no jewelry, had nothing fancy except the unfamiliar sparkles. She’d never looked better.
And he could smell himself on her skin and in her hair.
Did she know he’d marked her? Each and every member of his Pack would know immediately what she was to him and he to her. She might have shed his shirt, but she couldn’t get rid of him that easily. The wolf nudged the back of her calf. Not hard enough to knock her over, but she still rocked on her feet, looking for her balance.
That was only fair. She had him off-balance.
Her fingers tangled in his ruff, stroking and tunneling through the fur. His eyes almost rolled back in his head and he spared a moment to be grateful Luc wasn’t here. He’d never live this down, not in a million years. She’d put a collar around his neck and he didn’t mind. Much.
Of course, Riley wasn’t leaving him tied to the porch railing—even she had to know that—so he butted the back of her legs with his head, herding her towards the toolshed he’d spotted at the back of the property. They could have their words there where no one could see them.
She had no respect.
She hadn’t met a rule she didn’t want to break.
And he was fairly certain she thought Pack was a verb.
Yet she watched after these women more fiercely than even Luc. That was a high bar, but she met it and then some. She also thought she had her wolf on a leash.
Fortunately for both of them, he had every intention of disabusing her of that notion.
He’d do it out of sight, though. Riley’s women likely weren’t ready for a wolf to shift into a naked man and right now he didn’t want to chance an unexpected return for a forgotten item, although he had a feeling some of them wouldn’t mind a protector lurking in the shadows. They’d seen shit, had life dump on them a little too hard, and he’d make sure they got some of their own back. Right now, though, Riley’s Pack needed protecting from a threat they didn’t know was coming. Riley had trusted him—some, since he wasn’t sure about that leash business. His wolf liked this Pack of hers too. No male threat here, all female and filled with a different kind of strength, quiet and flexible. The place was peaceful, he decided. He liked it.
And these women needed him.
The leash—well, he and Riley would be having words about that.
Chapter Eleven
Riley considered her options as the van started up. Ellie had seemed fine with the presence of a big ass wolf in her backyard. She didn’t know if the other woman truly believed Riley’s “pet” was a dog, but all of the women living in the house had learned when to push and when to wait.
Ellie trusted her.
Keeping the truth from her—and from the other women inside the house—hadn’t sat well. If it had been her, she’d have wanted to know what might be coming when the sun fell. She’d have wanted to make her own choices. Run or hide. Fight or stay put. She’d had the same choice, that last night out on the bayou with Mary Jane. Granted, Mary Jane hadn’t known her temporary deckhands were wolf shifters, but if she had… well, Riley would have wanted her to share that information. If she hadn’t been so distracted by watching Mary Jane color up around the two, maybe she would have scented the truth for herself.
The leash wrapped loosely around her wrist snapped taut and, startled, she looked down. Yeah. Even shifted, Dag understood every word she said. Just in case she’d had any doubts on that score, he was pulling at the leash, a determined look in his gold eyes. What would he do if she told Ellie the truth? She wouldn’t let him stop her from doing the right thing, but maybe she owed him the courtesy of a heads-up before she pulled the plug on their cover-up.
She probably should have thought through her leash plan. Her brothers always worried that she was impulsive, acting before she thought, and this certainly seemed to prove their point. Dag was alpha to the core with a dark thread of violence that let him hunt vampires in the bayou without batting an eyelash. And yet he was also a good man. Or maybe it was because of that he was a good man. She didn’t know and the wolf herding her towards the toolshed at the back of the property wasn’t planning on an introspective half hour. She didn’t miss the intent in his predatory prowl either.
It was payback time.
The wolf pressed against her legs. Hard, because when she tried to head back into the house—she was definitely playing with fire here and they were only two hours from sundown—the animal didn’t budge. And trying to move almost two hundred pounds of wolf was impossible. Her wolf nipped lightly, catching her fingers between its teeth and pressing. There was no missing the message there. Dag was out of patience and she needed to see what he wanted before he shifted in public.
She went the only direction available to her: forward. It wasn’t such a bad thing, if she was being honest with herself. The hot afternoon sun beating down warmed her up, a kind of lazy-making sun that made you want to pick a spot on the grass and curl up. The week’s events were catching up with her. Somehow she had to find the energy to keep moving though. Not only because her wolf clearly had plans of his own, but because there was undoubtedly a vampire headed here. Maybe
she could make plans with her eyes closed.
It was a thought.
“You got a plan?” she asked the wolf crowding her and he yipped. She hadn’t known a wolf could sound male and self-satisfied. Hers did, which just figured.
She looked over her shoulder, but they were out of sight of the house now. She’d picked the place because not only was the fence high enough to deter an Olympic pole vaulter, but the property had plenty of outbuildings. Eventually, she’d planned on converting the crazy-leaning garage into a studio. Right now, though, all the dilapidated building did was block the women in the house from spotting them.
Dag didn’t hesitate, just shifted. Riley had seen that change from the deck of his houseboat, but she’d never stood so close before. Close enough to feel the difference as the fur rippled away, replaced by sun-bronzed skin. Bare skin. God, he was naked and hard and he’d clearly been thinking all sorts of thoughts because an impressive erection jabbed into her belly as the man replaced the wolf in a blink of the eye, eyes still glowing.
Suddenly she had six-plus feet of hot, hard Cajun crowding her. Her back hit a wall—toolshed her brain registered—and she looked up. His arms came down on either side of her head, caging her in place as the now-familiar pulse of arousal started beating low in her belly.
“Is this where I pay the piper?” she asked. The sun-warmed wood felt good, so for a moment she simply breathed and let the heat seep into her body.
She’d pushed him, putting a leash around his neck. A man like Dag Breaux wouldn’t play those kinds of games, not unless he was the one holding the leash. Or doing the tying. She shivered at that mental image.
Was he mad or just thinking? The yellow glow faded, as the last of the wolf retreated deep inside some secret hiding spot, and familiar dark eyes stared down at her. That stern face sure didn’t look positively overjoyed, and an even harder pair of arms warned her he could keep her here without trying much. And yet she wasn’t worried. This felt right too.
