Omega Moon Rising (Toke Lobo & The Pack)

by MJ Compton

  His truck was right where he’d left it, parked haphazardly across the grass. The keys were still in the ignition.

  He didn’t speed down the mountain. He took his time, savoring his plan. He had a change of clothes in the truck. A good werewolf always kept a change of clothes nearby. He was a good werewolf, despite his grandmother’s blood flowing in his veins. He was a good werewolf, and he was going to prove it.

  Mostly he needed to prove it to Abigail, and she didn’t even know he was a werewolf. He needed to prove he could admit his mistakes and rectify them. He should have killed Gary the first time the man hit her. He could have saved Abigail—no, Abby—three months of misery. He owed her. He owed her so much. For jumping to conclusions when he should have known better. She’d pretty much told him the truth, but he’d been so intent on his own agenda, her words never clicked into place for him.

  I’d rather you didn’t. Gary is on the ‘net all the time.

  He’d be kicking himself for that one for the rest of his life.

  The work world was starting to waken by the time he reached Oak Moon. Arrived on the street where Gary still lived. Here and there, windows shone blue or yellow in a patchwork quilt of dark and light.

  Gary’s house was dark.

  He worked the night shift. That’s what Libby had told Luke. He parked in front of the house. Pre-dawn hid the shabbiness. He tapped his thumbs on the steering wheel. He sauntered up the front walk, still in no hurry. He was going to take his time, make sure he did what he had to do right. Over and over, he planned his moves. Gary’s death was going to be slow and as painful as a werewolf could make it.

  The front door was open an inch. Luke paused. At least he wouldn’t have to break in. The door was open. No crime there.

  He sniffed. Uh-oh.

  He nudged the crack wider. The hinges creaked in a sorrowful song. Luke thought about humming along with it.

  The full force of the stench hit him almost immediately. Urine. Feces. Blood. Death. Luke’s vision adjusted to the gloom. He found a lamp and switched it on.

  Gary sat on the ugly plaid sofa. Sprawled, really. Legs splayed. Arms wide and open. Head back. Bullet hole in front, gray matter, blood, and explosive destruction in back.

  Frustration replaced the ice water in Luke’s veins. Someone beat him to Gary.

  Chapter 12

  Gary is on the ‘net all the time.

  Luke looked around the front room, but didn’t see any computer components. He stood absolutely still for several moments. Listening. Sniffing past the fragrance of Gary’s death.

  Satisfied he was alone, he started hunting for Gary’s work center. The one-story house was tiny and easy to search.

  He should have looked in the basement first. The room had been partitioned off from the rest of the open space, away from the washer and dryer, the furnace and hot water heater. The scent of fabric softener and laundry detergent barely masked the dank smell of damp cellar. The padlock and deadbolt might have stopped a human, but Luke claimed his human heritage only when it was convenient. This morning, convenience was the last thing on his mind. The steel door could have been balsa for all the resistance it offered.

  Gary had a state-of-the-art setup. There were pieces of equipment Luke didn’t recognize.

  He turned on the tower and waited for the system to boot. He typed in variations of Abby’s name, Libby’s name, and Tina’s name. Of course the password wouldn’t be something simple. Gary was an IT professional. And he was probably doing illegal things on the computer.

  Illegal things involving Luke’s wife. Things the world didn’t need to see.

  Luke picked up the oversized flat screen monitor and brought it down on the edge of the desk. The particleboard crumbled and the glass in the screen shattered.

  Luke wasn’t even breathing hard as he dismantled the tower with his bare hands. He didn’t feel the metal housing slice into his fingers or the flesh of his palms. Circuit boards, motherboards, wires—he wadded them as if they were the frailest of tissue paper.

  He peeled the hard drive apart like an onion. Crumpled each piece into museum-quality sculpture. When he was finished, he was going to gather the scraps and toss them into the deepest part of the lake.

  “Hold it right there. Put your hands on top of your head.”

  Luke turned. Two police officers stood at the bottom of the stairs, guns pointed at him. “You’re too late,” Luke said, gesturing toward the ceiling. “Somebody beat all of us to him.”

  “Hands on your head!”

  Luke blinked. “You don’t think—”

  “On your head!” The taller cop screamed the words.

  Luke slowly raised his hands. Rested his palms on his head. “I’m cool.”

  The shorter cop sidled toward him, handcuffs ready.

  Scat. If he were going to be arrested for Gary’s murder, shouldn't he at least have participated?

  “Come on, Tokarz.” Luke glared at his alpha through the glass of the visitor’s room of the county jail. “If I had killed Gary, he wouldn’t be recognizable. I would have torn off his balls, then shredded his hands before ripping out his throat. The crime scene would have been a whole lot messier. And there would be blood on my muzzle. Give me some credit.”

  Tokarz nodded, but his arms remained crossed over his chest.

  “There’s no gun powder residue on my hands. And the time line is wrong. Porter was dead before we ever hit the Colorado state line. They can’t pin the murder on me. The only thing they got on me is tampering with a crime scene and destroying evidence. The cops walked in on me doing that. I want Mitchell Jasper.”

  “You were heard threatening to kill Porter on several occasions,” Restin reminded him.

  Luke didn’t need reminding. He also didn’t need Restin. “Yeah? So? Somebody beat me to it. Not my fault. Not my problem.”

  “You want to tell us exactly what’s going on?”

  Luke glared. If Tokarz had been alone, he might have shared his personal business, but not with Restin there. “Not your problem.”

  “Why should I call in our federal contact when this isn’t my problem?” Tokarz asked. “Why should I post additional guards on Abigail and her sister if this isn’t my problem? And why would I call in Mitchell Jasper for a local situation?”

  Mitchell Jasper was their contact in the State Department who “handled” the Loup Garou werewolves for other federal agencies when the pack worked for the government as part of their treaty exchanging service for sanctuary. And right then, Luke was more than ready to serve.

  “Oh, I don’t know about the local part,” Luke said. “Get Jasper. On the phone or face-to-face, I don’t care. But he’s the only person I’m talking to.”

  Abby stared at Macy. “Arrested? Dead?” Her hands trembled. Her whole body shivered. Shook from the inside out. She should have tried to stop Luke from leaving. This was her fault. All her fault.

  “I’m sorry about your stepfather. Luke claims he didn’t kill him, but he was arrested at the scene, destroying evidence. He’s not talking, though.”

  It was too much to hope that Luke would hide Abby’s shame from his family. From the rest of the world. Her thoughts circled like a stuffed toilet . . . round and round, going nowhere. Had Luke killed Gary on her behalf? Did that mean he believed her?

  Would anyone believe such awful things about Gary? He was considered a saint to have married her mother after her father had died, what with Mama so sick and all. No one knew Gary hadn’t married Mama for Mama, but for access to her daughters.

  “Will they let him out on bail? I can put the Oak Moon house up for bond money.”

  “You’ve been watching too much TV. Tokarz is working something out. Don’t worry. The pack takes care of its own.”

  “The pack?”r />
  Macy bit her bottom lip. “When Luke gets back, he’ll explain. You concentrate on growing that baby.”

  Didn’t Macy realize things would be worse now? If someone other than Luke had killed Gary, she and Libby could be in greater danger than they’d been when Gary was alive. Except Abby didn’t know anything about Gary’s sideline. But whoever killed him might not believe that.

  “Where’s Libby? Have you told her yet?”

  “Colette was going to do that. She and Libby have really bonded.”

  That was good. Wasn’t it? Libby needed some kind of stability, the kind Abby used to provide when Mama was still alive.

  “Thanks for telling me, Macy. Can Luke have visitors?”

  Macy eyed her. “Do you think that’s such a great idea? You need to focus on your baby.”

  Abby stared at Macy. Tried to think, but that wasn’t working very well yet. “Can you get a message to him somehow?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I want him to know . . . I want to say . . . thank you.”

  Mitchell Jasper arrived in Colorado the next day. Luke was transported to the FBI offices in Denver for their meeting.

  “You can take the handcuffs off him,” Jasper told the US Marshall.

  Luke rubbed his wrists as he checked the ceiling for cameras. None. This was a meeting room, not an interrogation room. He might still be wearing his orange prison scrubs, but Jasper was smart enough to keep the secrets of the Loup Garou pack. That meant no cameras. No recording devices whatsoever.

  Luke could have broken free of the cuffs himself, but he was in a cooperating mood. Because he expected cooperation in return. Tokarz, Restin, Luke, and Jasper were the only individuals in the room. That was two too many.

  “What the hell do you people think you’re doing, inserting yourselves into a federal investigation?” were the first words out of Jasper’s mouth.

  He smelled bad. His pale yellow hair and even paler blue eyes reminded Luke of nothing so much as a person with all the vitality sucked out of him.

  “What are you talking about?” Tokarz crossed his arms over his massive chest.

  “So you know about it. Well, I want in on the investigation,” Luke said at the same time.

  “You fucking destroyed evidence!” Jasper’s out-of-control emotions could work in Luke’s favor.

  “What’s going on here?” Tokarz did not sound happy. Or cooperative. “Somebody want to fill me in?”

  “Your boy here killed a key suspect and destroyed evidence in an on-going undercover investigation.”

  “I arrived too late to kill Gary Porter. But I want in on the task force,” Luke repeated. “It’s computer based, right? DeepWebs, DeepNet, FreeNets—I’m one of the best computer guys you will ever meet.”

  “He didn’t kill Porter,” Restin confirmed. “Those charges have been dropped.”

  “He destroyed evidence. I ought to let the locals lock him up and throw away the key.”

  “I’m in,” Luke insisted.

  “The hell you are.”

  Luke leaned forward, getting as close to Jasper’s stinking, pale face as he could. “What part of I’m on your task force do you not understand?”

  Jasper backed away. “Forget it. You fucked things up so badly—”

  Luke didn’t even think about what happened next. One minute he was in Jasper’s face, the next he was at his throat. Jaws snapped. The burn of fresh urine hung in the air.

  “Luke.” Tokarz’s voice was calm.

  Restin held Luke by the scruff of his neck.

  Jasper’s pale eyes bulged. He swallowed hard several times.

  “Jasper, you forgot a couple of things about dealing with us. Based on his behavior, I’m guessing this has something to do with Luke’s wife. You need to remember getting between a werewolf and his mate can get you killed. Now, while Luke is ensuring your cooperation, why don’t you tell me why Luke thinks you’re interfering with his woman? What case are you two talking about?”

  Jasper could barely eke out the words. “Internet child pornography.”

  Chapter 13

  “Luke?” Tokarz asked.

  Luke backed off. Shifted to his human form. All that remained of his orange jumpsuit were scraps useful for marking the boundaries of a driveway so the plow guy would know where to go.

  “Abigail?”

  “Don’t call her that,” Luke snapped. “Her name is Abby.”

  Tokarz nodded, one short jerk of his head.

  “You have a victim?” Jasper finally sounded interested. If a man who’d pissed himself could sound like anything.

  “Maybe two,” Luke said. Ancient Ones, he was going to yak a hairball. He hadn’t let himself think about Abby, about Libby from the moment he’d learned what Gary had done. He couldn’t. Because what Abby told him made him sick. Made him crazy.

  “You can’t work for Jasper,” Restin said. “You’re mated.”

  “Abby is not my mate. She’s my wife. Civil law only.”

  “The pack recognizes her as your mate,” Tokarz said. “And there will be an examination into that once you are back in Loup Garou.”

  Luke glanced at Jasper. The pack usually didn’t discuss the finer points of lycan life in front of non-lycans.

  “When can we interview your wife?” Jasper asked.

  “You’re not,” Luke said.

  “You destroyed evidence.”

  “That’s right. My wife’s privacy is her privacy, and her stinking cursed stepfather deserved a much worse death than he received. If I had gotten there first, you’d need DNA tests to identify him.”

  Luke dared anyone in the room to argue with him. He hated that Tokarz and Restin knew about the kiddie porn—especially Restin—but there was no help for it. “Are there extra guards on my parents’ and grandparents’ houses? Whoever killed Gary could be after the girls.”

  Tokarz nodded. “I wish you’d said something sooner.”

  Luke simply stared. Maybe Tokarz wasn’t the leader he should be if he couldn’t figure out why Luke didn’t want his personal business bandied about as if it were owned by the pack.

  “I’ll see what I can do about getting you on the task force.” Jasper’s voice was little more than a croak.

  “You do that,” Luke said. “Or I’m going rogue—and you really won’t like that.”

  Jasper procured another orange jumpsuit for Luke, who was released into Tokarz’s custody. Didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except keeping Abby and her sister safe.

  He should have known the ride back to Loup Garou wouldn’t be silent.

  “What exactly is going on?” Tokarz asked.

  “Did someone fetch my truck from Oak Moon?”

  “I’ll have someone pick it up tonight.”

  “You can drop me off there.”

  “Not happening.” Tokarz’s smile lacked any mirth. “You’re in my custody, and you’re not going anywhere near that house right now. We’ll let Restin drive your truck back to Loup Garou.”

  “Fine.”

  “Now, are you going to talk to me, or am I going to have to beat the story out of you?”

  “How’s Abby?” Luke asked.

  “She offered to put the Oak Moon house up to cover your bail.”

  “She did?” He’d been pretty rotten to her until she’d confessed her . . . victimization. “I need to get her a guitar to replace the one that scat-eating vampire-humping stepfather of hers broke.”

  He tried to remember what kind she’d played during the talent show. “A vintage Yamaha, I think. It was her real daddy’s instrument. He taught her to play. I need to stop and buy one now.”

  “In your prison suit?”

  “Or naked. I’m not going back to
Loup Garou without a guitar for her.”

  A brand new Yamaha guitar with a narrow neck in a nice hard case rested in the back of Tokarz’s SUV, on the other side of his son Daniel’s car seat. Tokarz dropped Luke off at the sheriff’s office to retrieve his clothes and other belongings, including his truck keys. Luke strolled out the front door, trying to act as if he didn’t have a care in the world in his jeans, white T-shirt, and scuffed brown boots.

  Tokarz dropped Restin off at the truck and Luke climbed into the front seat.

  Tokarz had barely pulled away from the curb when Luke started talking.

  “That night in Nevada. I couldn’t sleep, so I got on the Internet and was surfing like I do.”

  “Porn sites,” Tokarz clarified.

  Luke’s stomach clenched. “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “I found this place. Gail’s Bedroom or something. The girl looked an awful lot like Abby, but I figured blond hair, blue eyes—they all look alike, right? Until I saw the smile. Abby has this cute gap between her front teeth.”

  “And you went crazy.”

  “Not crazy,” Luke argued. But he’d been crazy. “At first, I thought she was . . . posing voluntarily. I even wondered if I was the father of her baby. I mean, I know I was her first lover, her only lover, but seeing those pictures . . . of her naked—”

  “You went crazy.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Luke, you were acting crazy. Mated crazy.”

  “I needed to talk to her.”

  “You couldn’t pick up the phone?”

  “I didn’t have her phone number.” He still didn’t.

  “I thought you were going to call her after you showed me her songs. Wasn’t that the story?”