Pack Justice (Nature of the Beast Book 1)

by RJ Blain

  “I maintain my stance: you have insufficient evidence to support your claim.”

  Marcello snickered. “She has evidence, actually. We had a little fun at your expense. The volume of your purrs was directly related to how far Andrea was from you when you were so drugged you couldn’t see straight. You were only quiet when she was right next to you, probably because your nose was able to convince you she hadn’t disappeared somewhere.”

  I groaned at the thought of what went on while I was under the influence of painkillers. “Please tell me he’s joking, Andrea.”

  “I’m sure there’s at least one video floating around the pack,” my fellow attorney replied, grinning at me.

  My eyes widened. “Wait. Didn’t one of you tell me half of the Bureau officers are Fenerec or witches and associated with the pack?”

  “Most of them are in the pack,” Marcello confirmed. “A few are in one of the neighboring packs, and I hear they’re pretty disappointed we’ve already laid claim to you.”

  I groaned and slumped over the counter, shoving my bowl of stew to the side. “Why me?”

  “Stop your crying and eat your stew,” Andrea chided, jabbing me with her elbow. “We have an early morning, and I fully intend to take you back to bed with me before I have to get up for the day.”

  I choked on my first bite, comprehending what my nose was telling me about Andrea’s state of mind and her intentions. Marcello laughed and pounded my back.

  “She needs you alive for her terrible plans, Sean. Try not to choke to death after we spent all that time making you healthy for her. Slow down.”

  I was tempted to dump the bowl over my friend’s head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Was he always so stoic in court, Andrea?”

  “Always. It’s absolutely infuriating.”

  Years of practice around the woman allowed me to keep my expression neutral despite my desire to grin. “May the best attorney win, Miss Morgan.”

  Any other day, Andrea’s scowl would have left me despairing, but her eyes were bright with the anticipation of the challenge, and her scent was rich with her delight. “Oh, believe me, Mr. Scott, I have no intention of losing.”

  “Are you two seriously challenging each other over who cracks and smiles at the other in public first?” Marcello first stared at me before turning his attention to Andrea. “I can’t tell if this is going to be fun to watch, or if this is a disaster in the making.”

  “Business as usual,” I assured my friend.

  Andrea growled at me and pointed at my stew. “Eat.”

  Some battles weren’t worth fighting, so I obeyed without a word. Marcello patted my shoulder and said, “Good luck with her. You’re going to need it.”

  I wouldn’t have had it any other way, but I was wise enough to keep my mouth shut.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Andrea left for work wearing her usual blazer and slacks, and her laughter echoed in my ears.

  Marcello, Dan, and O’Mallory had way too much fun dying my fur black while Ramirez watched, her laughter a match for the defense attorney’s. Baring my teeth and growling at them resulted in even more amusement at my expense.

  “You can’t keep your spots, Sean. They’re too distinctive,” Ramirez scolded, shaking her head at my canine protests as the three Fenerec styled my fur to their liking. “Just be glad we don’t have an eight o’clock start like your mate. Stop whining, hop in the shower, and let’s rinse the residue off so we can finish and get to work.”

  While I warbled my complaints, I did get in the shower without them having to force me. Getting the excess dye out took over an hour even with all four of them working on my fur, and by the time they finished, I was a soggy, miserable mess.

  Instead of letting me shake off the excess water, they used a hairdryer on me.

  I looked—and felt—like I had stuck my paw in an electric socket.

  “Well, he looks about as fluffy as a Tibetan mastiff,” Ramirez commented, crossing her arms over her chest while looking me over. “It’ll do. We’ll claim he’s a mastiff mix we’re trying out. Marcello, you and Dan are in charge of running him through the course so he can pass as an actual police dog.”

  “Are you seriously going to put him on a patrol?” Marcello demanded, peeling out of his plastic gloves and dumping them in the trash can. “The last thing we need is him getting shot in the line of duty, Captain. Andrea will murder us.”

  “Then don’t get shot at while on patrol.”

  The Albano brothers glared at the woman, who ignored them and turned her attention to me. “If you even think about getting shot this week, I am going to skin you for a rug.”

  I huffed and refused to look any of them in the eye.

  Dan laughed. “I think he’s mad at you, Captain.”

  “He’s just mad Andrea tricked him and forced him to change to his wolf. I have to give that woman credit, she’s sneaky.” Crouching in front of me, Ramirez cupped my muzzle in her hands and kissed my nose. “The last thing we need to do is bring you into the pack officially, and it was Andrea’s idea we do it while you’re a wolf with a nice furry coat to protect you from my dull, harmless human teeth.”

  I grumbled my surrender, flopping to the floor and heaving a sigh.

  Marcello sat on the floor beside me and patted my shoulder. “Think about it this way, Sean. I get to feed you all the steak you can eat this week. I’ll even take you to the park. Friday, you’ll be back up on two feet and master of your domain. We even had all the locks changed, a new security system installed, and surveillance in case that stupid bitch Idette shows up.”

  “We even have you tentatively scheduled to serve as a guard dog at the courthouse Wednesday and Thursday so you can whet your appetite for work,” O’Mallory added.

  It’d be longer than a week before I caught up enough at work to be able to take anything to a court, but instead of whining, I submitted to the indignation of playing dog with another sigh.

  “I’ll bring you into the pack now, Sean,” Ramirez said, leaning over me. “Just stay relaxed. Honestly, if you feel anything, I’ll be surprised. Your wolf will be happy being in a pack, though—especially a pack with Andrea in it.”

  Both of my spirit beasts were intrigued by the idea of pack, and despite my misgivings about having anyone’s teeth near my throat, I kept still, flinching a little at the pressure on my neck. Ramirez stroked my shoulder with her hand, murmured reassurances, and bit through my fur.

  It didn’t hurt, although I couldn’t stop myself from whining my anxiety at the feel of her teeth. As she claimed, I didn’t feel anything different, but I heard a faint chorus of howls in my head before they quieted.

  Ramirez pulled away, balancing her weight on the balls of her feet. “All done, Sean. That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

  I drew a deep breath, lurched to my feet, and shook to settle my fur. The acrid stench of anger melded with the sharper cinnamon of Fenerec, and with a little work, I was able to distinguish the differences in the three scents.

  Whatever Ramirez had done hadn’t hurt, and I bobbed my head to acknowledge her.

  “I hope that Idette bitch fucks up and gets too close to our territory,” Marcello snarled. With wide eyes, I twisted to face my friend, who stretched his fingers before balling his hands into fists. “No wonder Andrea’s been damned protective of anyone getting near his neck.”

  O’Mallory got to his feet and stretched. “I’ve already warned the rest of the pack to be cautious about his throat. For now, we’ll rank him in the pack with Andrea until he’s gotten a chance to watch a dominance test without participating. We all know he won’t shake out as a submissive, not with how he behaves in court, but until he’s ready to do dominance challenges and deal with the throat nipping, we’ll leave ranking him out of the equation.”

  I wasn’t really sure what they were talking about, but I’d make a point of asking later. My wolf seemed inclined to agree with the judge, however, which was enough fo
r me. Contentment radiated from both of my spirit beasts, and while I was only faintly aware of the odd howls in my head, my wolf listened to them and was satisfied with what he heard.

  The calling wolves welcomed us.

  I had the back of Marcello’s SUV to myself, and I spent the entire ride with my head out the window at my wolf’s insistence. At the station, Dan had control of my leash, although I was confident I could pull free if I wanted. As planned, we arrived last almost half an hour after Ramirez. Any other day, the brothers would’ve been reprimanded for being late, but with cheerful grins, they blamed their tardiness on me.

  There were far more cops hanging out at the station than I remembered from my previous visits, and the cinnamon scent of Fenerec overwhelmed my nose. At least I had an easy job in the station. I was to stick beside whoever held my leash, stay quiet, watch, and listen.

  It didn’t take long for Dan to hand my leash over to Alice, who I identified as another Fenerec from her scent. She crouched in front of me and rubbed between my ears. “And what’s your name, you handsome boy?”

  “We’re sticking with Spots out of a love of irony,” Dan informed his coworker.

  “Sir Spots the solid black mastiff mutt. I like it. It’s charming. How is he?”

  “Watch his leg; I caught him favoring it earlier this morning.”

  “Got it, Dan. You, Sir Spots, are coming with me. We’ll get your equipment and then run you through some basic training.”

  I had been under the impression Dan and Marcello were supposed to be responsible for the crash course in being a police dog, but the brothers grinned at me and waved a farewell before heading to their desks.

  Alice taking control of my leash signaled something to the rest of the room. I had enough time to turn my ears back before the loitering cops swarmed me.

  As a human, I enjoyed a set schedule, waking up at the same time every day, heading to work, and dealing with whatever was thrown my way. Captain Ramirez seemed determined to pitch the unexpected at me whenever possible. The training course involved Alice and her merry band of conspirators doing their best to make me jump out of my skin.

  Firecrackers were an effective tool in their arsenal, and they delighted in catching me off guard. I wasn’t sure what they were doing, but they seemed to enjoy sending me yipping across the fenced yard they used to work their canines.

  The real police dogs were with their handlers and probably enjoying a day off thanks to the Fenerec torturing me with loud noises.

  It took several hours before I was so numbed to the bursts of noise I simply stared at Alice in reproach. She grinned at me, headed to the fence, and grabbed a thick pair of gloves and a padded jacket.

  I liked phase two a lot more than phase one of their so-called training regime. My job involved biting Alice’s protective armor and dragging her to the ground, pinning her without hurting her.

  I found it a challenge, and there was something satisfying about driving the breath out of the cop’s lungs and sitting on her. I disliked the exercises when she was armed. While the weapon wasn’t loaded, the other cops used firecrackers to simulate gunfire, which stoked my wolf’s aggressive instincts. He wanted to go for the throat and eliminate the risk, but I kept him under control—as did my cheetah.

  While my feline side wasn’t amused by the training session, he tolerated the loud noises and exercises far better than my wolf.

  When I was panting and trembling with exhaustion, Alice shifted gears on me again, introducing me to the assortment of drugs their experienced dogs sniffed out. I perked my ears forward, listening to the woman identify each and every drug.

  It amazed me how potent the substances were; most burned my nose, and I often backed away, sneezing. One of them was so repulsive I refused to get anywhere near the bag, pulling against the leash when Alice insisted I smell the drug.

  I had no idea what was in the bag, but neither of my spirit beasts wanted anything to do with it. Alice frowned, looking at the bag in her hand before staring at me.

  “It’s tar heroine, Sir Spots. It isn’t going to bite you.”

  It smelled worse than vinegar. I shook my head, sneezing several more times. I put my ears back but sat still when she returned the offensive bag to its box. The next substance she had me sniff also sent me diving for the end of my leash, warbling complaints about subjecting my nose to such harsh fumes.

  I learned a lot more about drugs than I wanted, and the more I disliked the drug’s stench, the better I was at remembering it and finding it hidden in odd locations.

  “All right, Sir Spots. It’s time to see if you’ve learned anything. Dan and Marcello have seeded samples of drugs throughout the station. Your job is to find them. You’ll be timed.”

  I turned my ears back at the thought of doing anything in a hurry. The exercise made my hind leg ache, but instead of whining about it, I sighed and followed Alice back to the station.

  By the time the cops finished with me, I had the feeling I’d be grateful to return to my real work—even if it ended up being paper shuffling for several weeks to catch up on everything I had missed.

  After a full day of Alice running me through the station on a demented drug hunt, I limped so much I threw in the towel, picked a corner, and dragged the woman to it, staring at the wall and refusing to budge a single inch.

  “Come on, Sir Spots. You still have to find your favorite pair of drugs. You can’t give up now.”

  I turned my ears back, showed off my teeth, and shuffled closer to the wall.

  The cops laughed, and I contemplated whether or not I could make a break for freedom. Could I fit beneath Marcello’s SUV?

  If I could figure out how to open the doors to the parking lot, I’d find out.

  “What is going on here?” Captain Ramirez demanded.

  “Sir Spots seems to have an opinion on his assigned task, ma’am,” Alice reported.

  “I see. What’s the issue?”

  “Tar heroine and meth, apparently. He wanted nothing to do with either one of them out in the yard, and he’s balking at locating the two samples in the station.”

  “Oh?”

  “He’s pretty good at locating substances, actually. He has an extreme dislike for those two. He gets within ten feet of them and turns tail.”

  “Anything else?”

  “He’s limping like a cripple. There’s no way he can go on a patrol this way.”

  “How many tests have you run on his sniffing ability?” Tugging at my collar to get my attention, Captain Ramirez crouched beside me. I turned towards her, lowered my head, and whined.

  “Two. Perfect scores except for his reluctance to go anywhere near tar heroine and meth. I’d bet my badge he knows where they are, but good luck getting him to show us.”

  “I think you’ve tortured the poor mutt enough. Take the samples back to the drug safe.” Captain Ramirez took my leash and gave my collar a tug. “Come along, Sir Spots. You can sit in my office and look threatening while I deal with some unpleasantries.”

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what Ramirez considered an unpleasantry, but it had to be better than running around the police station sticking my nose in places my nose didn’t belong, including the pockets of amused cops.

  Maybe I wasn’t a real police dog, but the next day, Marcello and Dan sent me out on a string of drug busts and raids, determined to test my nose’s sensitivity. The third tip took us into an abandoned warehouse. The place reeked of narcotics, challenging my wolf and me to hunt down the sources of the vile odors.

  The other dogs had trouble, too, which appeased my pride a little. Alice unclipped my leash and gave me the command to search for the drugs. I cursed her, the Albano brothers, Captain Ramirez, and every other Fenerec on the planet in my head, and growling my discontent, I obeyed.

  I lifted my nose, inhaled, and held my breath to buy time to sort through the smells. The pervasive stench of ammonia made my eyes water, and my spirit beasts struggled to distinguish mor
e subtle scents.

  One smell, however, caught my wolf’s attention. Like the ammonia, it was strong and singed my nose, but it was a smell I recognized after some thought.

  As a human, I found the odor of gun oil pleasant. I didn’t own a gun nor did I care to, but I’d gone to the firing range enough times to be familiar with the care of firearms. The process of oiling a gun had always intrigued me.

  In a warehouse of empty racks and abandoned shipping crates, the police were supposed to be the only ones carrying the scent of gun oil.

  The source was somewhere ahead. Flattening my ears and showing my teeth, I prowled forward, following my nose in the direction of the stench.

  A smart man would have turned around and headed for the safety of numbers, but my wolf and cheetah urged me onward. My cheetah knew about firearms, and he didn’t appreciate the idea of leaving a threat at our back.

  My wolf wanted to hunt, and he didn’t care if his prey had two feet or four.

  I found two men on the far side of the warehouse. Both of them were armed, their guns out and ready. I didn’t care what sort of pistols they carried; guns were tools to kill people, and I understood there would be shots fired.

  Their first mistake was standing so close to each other.

  I slammed my full weight into the larger of the two men, my teeth closing over his wrist. I bit down hard enough he screamed. The gun hit the floor and bounced over the concrete, out of reach beneath one of the racks. Satisfied he wouldn’t be bothering anyone, I lunged for his accomplice.

  The man pulled the trigger as I hit him. The sound, which made my ears ring, accompanied the thump of impact. Fire burned through my shoulder. Although I staggered, my momentum kept me on target. We collided, and I locked my jaws on his arm.

  Breathing hurt, but determined to keep him from firing another shot, I shook my head until the gun hit the floor.