by Wood, Vivian
Possessed By The Wolf
Chapter Eleven
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Walker cursed, abruptly disconnecting the call on his smartphone. He dropped the phone onto the hood of his Range Rover, seething. No way was Lucas getting away with this. As the COO of a Fortune 500 tech company, Walker Black didn’t need anything else on his plate right now. Especially not some damsel in distress.
His phone buzzed, indicating that he has a new text. Walker gave his phone the blackest scowl he could manage, which could probably peel the paint off a barn. So few people had his personal number that Walker was certain that the text must be from Lucas. He picked it up with a groan.
You have no choice, read the text. There’s no one else available, and the female is definitely in trouble.
“FUCK!!” Walker shouted, slamming his hands against the hood several times. He released a wordless bellow, his rage rocking the entire SUV.
Out of the corner of his eye, Walker saw a flash of pink. Turning his head, he saw a startled-looking woman in her fifties, a posh peroxide blonde dressed in a pink track suit. She was coming out of the Forum Athletic Club, Atlanta’s swankiest gym, just trying to get into the sleek white Mercedes CLS parked next to Walker’s car.
She blanched when he made eye contact, car keys shaking in her hand, and for a moment Walker imagined what she was seeing. At over six and a half feet tall, Walker’s frame was densely packed with muscle from head to toe. Twin swirls of black adorned his arms from wrist to shoulder, the traditional Polynesian tribal tattoos putting barbed-wire biceps everywhere to shame. His dark mahogany hair had just been buzzed, and fury brightened his sable eyes to a molten glow. His wolf was very close to the surface right now, and his anger pulled away his usual calm façade.
Walker doused his emotions, his action immediate and effortless. Giving the woman a grin and a shrug, he gave an exaggerated sigh. His time working for a certain government agency had taught him how to completely detach from his emotions, instantaneously. The Company hadn’t exactly been a joy ride, but some of that training was handier than hell.
“Friggin’ stock market, right?” he asked, affecting a silly, flirtatious tone. The lie came easily, as they always did these days.
The woman’s relief was obvious. She actually winked at him before sliding into her car. Walker rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
Sometimes being good-looking really had its perks. With a broad brow, a chiseled jawline, a strong nose, and pronounced cheek bones, Walker wasn’t getting a lot of complaints in the looks department. Women fawned over his physique, some even exclaiming over the long, dark lashes that made him seem brooding.
Good thing I’m antisocial and a bit of an asshole, he thought. Otherwise I might actually get laid on the regular.
He scrunched up his face, wondering exactly how long it had been since his last “date” with one of the brainless model-types he preferred to bed. Shit, if he had to think about it, it’d been too long. He should call that… Cam? Candy? Damn, what the hell had that girl’s name been again?
His logic repeated itself. If he couldn’t remember, it was past time to move on. No wonder he was so damned terrible with females.
Picking up his phone, Walker shot off a quick reply to Lucas.
I’ll have to push back the deadline on my acquisition project. We’ll lose millions, he texted.
A few seconds later, his phone buzzed again.
And we care because…? Lucas answered. Then:
Ben has all the details about the female. Get with him ASAP.
Walker shook his head and hopped into his car, heading for his Buckhead apartment. For a billionaire, Lucas sure didn’t respect the almighty dollar. Seeing as Lucas, Ben, and Walker all had more money than they could ever spend in several lifetimes, Walker was inclined to agree just now. Hell, maybe this would turn into a vacation of sorts.
“Call Ben,” he told his car’s computer. His Luna Corp. co-owner picked up on the first ring.
“Jackson,” Ben said. No greeting, no preamble. Just a location.
“Mississippi?” Walker asked, surprised.
“Yep. Head for the Dekalb-Peachtree airport. I’ve got a chopper chartered for you, waiting.”
Impressed, Walker decided to skip the stop at his apartment. He’d just showered and changed into a fresh t-shirt and jeans, and he had a go-bag in his trunk with weapons and other necessities.
“I need a little more info, Ben. Lucas basically just told me I’m saving some shifter female that you found…” he trailed off, not knowing the details.
“I found her for sale on the Silk Road,” Ben said.
“You’re going to give me more than that.”
“I found several message board posts that mention her, and then tracked the whispers to the sale source. A black market site on the deep web, somewhere you have to access through serious back channels. The story seems to be that a couple of rednecks trapped her in her wolf form, and they were trying to sell her to an animal collector. She must have shifted at some point, because they figured out what she is and now she’s up for sale as something a lot worse than an exotic pet.”
Walker was quiet for a moment, absorbing it all. His wolf stirred, and anger threatened to rise again, but he shut it down. Emotions weren’t going to help anybody right now.
“I need some satellite recon, and I won’t be able to pull it with my current resources,” Walker finally replied.
Ben let out a breath, and Walker frowned. Had the other male really thought he would refuse to help? Nevermind the fact that he’d repeatedly told Lucas that he wouldn’t do a rescue operation for some shifter dumb enough to get herself trapped by humans. Walker might have a big mouth, but he wasn’t entirely without compassion. Usually.
“The site is an old dog-fighting ring. She must have come at them hard a few times, and they realized they needed a serious cage. I’ve pulled some images and heat signature patterns from the property. It looks like we’ve got at least five men in the building where they’re holding the auction. In less than five hours, bidders will start to arrive and there will be at least eight more people. Probably at least fifteen men. Not a lot of weaponry coming and going, from what I can tell,” Ben said. His tone was distracted, as if he were reviewing the images as they spoke.
“How long is the trip out?”
“Three and a half hours, maybe a little less.”
“Cutting it pretty close. I’ll be in the air in fifteen minutes. Can you have a car waiting? Weapons too, if possible.”
“Not a problem.”
“All right. I’ll hit you when I land,” Walker said.
True to his word, Walker lifted off in the helicopter in just over ten minutes. He closed his eyes, slipping into a restful state too light to be described as sleep. It allowed him to contemplate his plan and recharge his post-gym brain, the familiar sound of whirring chopper blades relaxing him for the flight.
Chapter Twelve
Less than three hours later, Walker found himself deep in the Mississippi woods. The chopper had dropped him in a field thirty miles north of Jackson, just a few minutes from the address Ben had listed as the auction warehouse. Walker had found a silver sedan waiting for him, and he’d checked in with Ben on the way over to the warehouse.
“Don’t bother making up a back story,” Ben counseled. “I don’t have time to create an identity for you, so I used your actual credentials. You’re a shifter, you have money, and you’re single. No one has more reason to be at this auction than you.”
“Are they going to just let me walk into this place?” Walker asked.
“I had one of the Luna Corp secretaries pose as your personal assistant. She called and got you a seat at the auction.”
Walker gave a mirthless chuckle.
“You find this funny? It’s all a business transaction to these guys.”
“You mean, as if this wasn’t an illegal, black-market human trafficking auction?”
“Yep,” Ben answered, unfazed. “I’m going to warn you, these guys aren’t much for shifters. They think we’re sub-human.”
“Not a problem. I’m planning on shutting down their little marketplace, not making friends.”
“Walker…” Ben started, then paused.
“Spit it out,” Walker said.
“It would probably be better if you didn’t stir the pot. If you hurt one of these guys, the whole bunch of them is probably going to come after us. They’ve got some connections, humans I’d rather not cross if we can help it.”
“Like who? Who’s stupid enough to back a bunch of redneck assholes that are running a slave trade?”
“A couple of the top-tier morons running this place are hooked up with some crazy anti-paranormal group. The Legion, they’re called. Religious nuts doing crazy science experiments, trying to ‘cure’ shifters and vamps. Pretty terrible stuff, I’m afraid.”
“The Legion,” Walker repeated. “Sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.”
“It’s the same group that’s been giving the Louisiana shifter pack so much trouble.”
“That’s right. Their pack alpha sent out a mass email looking for help. What’s his name?”
“Shaw, I think. My point is, if one of these guys identifies you, it could be big trouble for us. Not just the company, and not just you and me and Lucas. There are females here to consider now.”
Walker snorted.
“Since when have you cared about females? You’re still hung up on that brunette that dumped you over Christmas.”
Ben hesitated, and Walker sensed that there was something going on with the other male. Even if Walker was the kind of guy to talk feelings, now definitely wasn’t the time.
“Right. It’s none of my business. We’re getting sidetracked. What else do I need know?” Walker asked.
“Just be careful, and make sure you check out the trunk of the rental car before you wade in.”
“Gotcha. Will I have the chopper when I’m done?”
“The pilot is staying put. He can extract you and take you as far as the closest private airport. I figure if this female is all shaken up, the last thing she needs is hours in a helicopter. It’s rough on the nerves.”
“Right. Have a flight waiting for us, if you can.”
“Got it.”
Walker caught the sound of a woman’s voice in the background of Ben’s call.
“Are you with Aurelia?” Walker asked, his tone growing sharp.
“Uh… good luck!” Ben said, disconnecting the call.
“What in the fuck?” Walker asked, looking at his phone. His bad feeling about Ben’s lady problems doubled, but Walker stuffed it down. He needed to focus.
Shaking his head, he dropped the phone and the keys onto the passenger seat. Looking at his watch, he took a deep breath. He had a little time before he was due at the auction, and he planned to do a little reconnaissance.
He got out of the car and crouched, shifting into his wolf form. Even though he was a massive, tawny timber wolf, he was much quieter and faster in this form. He’d honed every muscle and mastered every agility exercise in his human form, but when it came to stealth there was just no beating a wolf. All the better for staking out his surroundings.
He approached the warehouse, making three slow circles before slipping up to the very edge of the parking lot. He watched human men milling around the entrance, impatient to enter. There were a number of nondescript white men in ratty camo clothing, some guarding the door and others inside. Auction employees, presumably.
Several well-dressed men in suits were also present; Walker assumed that they were buyers or buyers’ agents. None of them spoke, preferring to watch their peers with a high degree of suspicion. Even flesh traders didn’t trust flesh traders, it seemed.
Two more men in dark suits arrived, and the doors were opened. The guys at the door stopped the first customer, frisking him and removing two handguns from his person.
Walker cursed to himself. He’d hoped that he could just walk in with his weaponry, but obviously that wouldn’t be possible. He’d have to go with his second plan, stashing weapons close to the exits. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best he could do.
Running back to the car, Walker shifted back to his human form. He opened the trunk of his car, silently thanking Ben when he found three bags stuffed with pistols, shotguns, various grenades, and ammo. He made quick work of stashing the bags near the front, back, and side door of the warehouse. Then he quickly changed into a button-up, suit, and dress shoes. Hopping in the car, he pulled into the parking lot about twenty minutes after the first customers had been let in.
Walker strode up to the rusty corrugated steel warehouse, steeling himself as he approached the door.
“Whoa there,” one of the door guards said, holding out a hand.
Walker cocked a brow, giving the hand an icy glare.
“Name?” the second guard asked, flashing a clipboard. Walker suppressed a smirk and decided to call the guards Clipboard and Handsy, both for his convenience and amusement.
“Black,” Walker said, staring the first guard down until he dropped his hand and stepped back.
“Black…” Clipboard said, scanning the guest list. Walker counted the seconds until the guy realized that Walker was a shifter, and not some hedge fund schmuck looking for a novelty fuck.
Clipboard’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat in alarm. There it was, Walker thought with amusement. Fear and curiosity crossed Clipboard’s face, and the guard backed up until he stepped on Handsy’s foot.
“Watch it, dude,” Handsy snarled.
Clipboard cleared his throat again, thrusting the guest list at Handsy and pointing to a handwritten notation about Walker’s breed.
“Uh, right,” Handsy said, eyes dropping to the ground. “We still need to check you for weapons.”
Unbuttoning his suit jacket, Walker spread his arms wide.
“Make it quick. The auction starts soon,” he snapped. Both guards jumped, glaring at each other for a long moment. Clipboard won the staring contest, meaning that Handsy ended up frisking Walker. Handsy did a thorough check, a little too thorough, and when he found Walker clean… the guard just looked too relieved. Walker couldn’t explain it, but he knew without a doubt that these redneck bastards were up to something.
“Quit looking at me like that, and let me inside,” Walker growled, losing the last of his patience.
The guards backed up, Handsy even going so far as to open the door for Walker. Rolling his neck and cracking his knuckles, Walker headed inside.
Whatever he’d expected the inside of the warehouse to look like, this definitely wasn’t it. Outside might be rustic and country, but inside was all sleek black and steel surfaces. The warehouse had two big open areas. To the left was a stage area with a large circular platform, surrounded by several rows of plush black movie-theater style seating. To the right, Walker saw all the potential buyers and several guards milling in front of a large glass window.
Clipboard brushed past him, heading for a black door to the left of the glass window. Walker guessed it was some kind of office for the auctioneers. He’d check on the female first, then let himself into the office and find the person in charge. If he could made the first offer and make it sweet enough, he might be able to walk the female out unharmed. He could always come back for the slave traders tomorrow.
Walker took a deep breath, then approached the viewing window. He noticed that every single guard was now laser focused on his every movement, but he shrugged it off. Several of the customers were eyeing him, too; a deeply tanned, older Asian gentleman, a thin, sickly-looking white woman in her fifties, and a ruggedly tan, casually dressed man in his forties. If Walker had to guess, he would label them as Thai shipping magnate, a spook from an unknown US or British governmental agency, and a Australian billionaire big-game hunter. Each was flanked by a younger assistant or bodyguard, and each very curious about Walker.
Each reprehensible in his or her own distinctly horrifying way.
Shutting out the prickling consciousness of internal alarm bells going off in his head and the openly assessing stares of guards and customers, Walker stepped right up to the viewing window. The humans milling around drew away from him, giving him one more hint that something was wrong. Usually humans had no idea they were rubbing shoulders with a shifter, unless Walker chose to reveal it.
Squaring his shoulders, he raised his gaze to the viewing window. Shock ran through his system, despite his mental preparations.
She was exquisite.
Stretched out over an expanse of black velvet, the female looked impossibly small and fragile. She was diminutive, perhaps only five feet tall. She had blonde, straight hair that fell past her shoulders and smooth, lightly tanned skin. She wore a slinky crystal garment that barely covered her voluptuous breasts and generous hips, leaving her stomach and shoulders bare. Walker stepped forward, dragged toward her more surely than a magnet.
He kept his hands at his side, actively worked to keep from balling them into fists. Stepping to the left, he examined her face. Heart-shaped, with soft blonde brows and a sweetly shaped mouth. Her chin had the tiniest cleft, and her cheeks hinted at a dimpled grin. He wanted badly to see the color of her eyes, but she appeared sleepy, perhaps drugged.
When his groin tightened at the sight of her, Walker felt acute shame. A foreign emotion, to be certain. Shame was useless to men used to the ‘no fucks given’ lifestyle that Walker preferred.
Exhaling the breath he’d unknowingly held, Walker turned to one of the guards.
“Take me into the office,” he ordered, pointing at the door he’d seen earlier.
The guard’s gaze slipped over to Clipboard, who now stood only a few feet behind Walker. Dismissing the other guard, Walker turned to Clipboard.
“They want to see me anyway,” he said, waving a hand. It was not a question.
Clipboard paused, then nodded and beckoned Walker toward the office. The door opened as he approached, and a white-haired man in a suit stepped out.
