by Debra Dunbar
“Here.” Brent stuffed a handful of pills in my palm and handed me a glass of water. “Antibiotics. Per Kennedy, who also said we need to change your bandage and put some of this cream stuff on it.”
I obediently swallowed the pills, but was far more enthusiastic about the plate piled high with food that Zeph was handing me. Shifters burned a lot of energy healing. I’d had sleep, and now I desperately needed food. Then I’d probably need more sleep.
I scarfed down the food, happy to see Zeph bringing a second plate to me. Kennedy must still be up in Anchorage, but I saw Brent, Zeph, Matt, Tina, and Ahia. My security detail watching over me as I healed. It was a bit overkill, but I was grateful that they cared enough to make sure the pack heavy-hitters were here.
But where was Karl? I went to check my phone for the time and couldn’t find it. How long had I been asleep? More to the point, how long did it take an agitated bear shifter to drive around and calm down? I hoped I had enough gas in the car, otherwise Karl was in for a long walk back. Somehow I doubted he had money or a credit card on hand for a quick trip to the pumps.
I heard the door slam open. Everyone turned toward the noise, their eyes widening, their mouths dropping open. Karl appeared, dragging a whimpering man that he deposited on the floor in front of me like an offering.
It was Dutch from Hit-The-Mark. And beyond looking rumpled with a black eye and a few bruises, he was basically in one piece. Karl had clearly exercised great restraint. I was grateful. But I would have been more grateful if he hadn’t basically assaulted and kidnapped someone that we really needed on our side.
“Karl? This isn’t helping our public image,” Brent commented drily. I could tell he was amused, that if he hadn’t been guarding me, he might have done the same.
Dutch sniffed, wiping the crusted blood under his nose. “I didn’t know. I tell you, I didn’t know until you showed up and told me. I was completely surprised when I heard she’d been shot.”
“You told them her name, her e-mail, what car she was driving and the license plate,” Karl snarled. “What did you expect was going to happen?”
“They needed to keep track of who bought the bullets in case there was a complaint or a lawsuit. That way they could counter claims that the bullets were defective. I swear I didn’t expect him to try to kill her.” Dutch looked up at me. “Please believe me. I really didn’t want anyone getting killed.”
“Yet you sell bullets that kill shifters,” Brent commented. There was a light in his eyes that I didn’t really trust. Between him and Karl, I was pretty sure this guy wasn’t going to live long. I exchanged a quick glance with Ahia, figuring that we’d need to intervene if necessary.
“Only for self-defense!” Dutch protested. “Every store that sells pistols isn’t advocating murder. I even told her to be careful and not go just shooting someone because they changed into a wolf. Didn’t I?”
“Yes, he did.” I put out a hand toward Karl. “Stop. Both you and Brent stop right now. This guy didn’t do anything wrong, but he can tell us about the people who are. He can tell us about their operation, who they are, where they live. Right?”
Dutch nodded. “Mason Sharpe. He’s my distributor. He lurks in all the hunting and hiking forums and posts as SharpShooter, referring people to buy from me, then he wholesales me the bullets to sell through my store. Although now that he’s probably going to be arrested, I’ll probably have to deal with one of the other owners.”
I took a careful breath and got to my feet. “How many owners are there? And this is that Strikes company in Anchorage? They’re the ones manufacturing the bullets?”
“Yeah.” Dutch shot a wary glance at Karl, then also stood. “Three Strikes. The owners are Curtis Worth, Jesse Baker, and Mason Sharpe. I’ve never met Curtis or Jesse. They handle some other part of the business up in Anchorage. Mason runs the self-defense part of the company. He’s spreading the word about the products and in charge of approving distributors. There aren’t many of us, and it’s hard to get supply. That’s why they cost so much, and instead of selling a box of bullets, we usually only sell one or two at a time.”
“And Mason is here, in Juneau?” He had to have been to get to where I was so quickly after the call with Dutch. He must have left right away, then seen me, and/or my car in the parking lot and decided to take me out of the equation.
“Yeah. If I don’t have a certain bullet and he has it in stock, he runs it by. Otherwise he needs to call up to Anchorage and have them make it special for me.”
“Which means the elf is in Anchorage,” Brent commented.
“Elf?” Dutch blinked in surprise.
“So you don’t know about an elf? They’ve never discussed how the bullets work?”
“No, that’s proprietary information. They’re hardly going to tell me that. And they’ve never mentioned an elf.”
I believed him. The only thing for us to do, beyond giving this added information to Jake, was to wait for the police to do their job and arrest this guy. In the meantime, I was going to hang out at Karl’s den, where no one would shoot me, and where he’d most likely eviscerate anyone who came within a mile of the cabin.
“Tell them the rest,” Karl growled at Dutch. “Tell them about the meeting.”
Dutch eyed him and took a few steps back. “Um, Mason called me right before this guy showed up. He said he was concerned about the supply and was recalling all the bullets. I’m to meet him tonight with all my stock and he’ll pay me cash for them.”
The guy was trying to cover his trail, get them off the market. And I got the impression that Dutch wasn’t meant to walk out of that meeting alive.
“We’ll be there,” Brent said. “I’ll put eight wolves on the perimeter, and two of us will close in once Mason shows up.”
“No,” Karl countered. “You have ten wolves on the perimeter, and I’ll take this guy down.”
“We need him alive, Karl,” I reminded him. “For questioning, and to also show both the police and the public that we play by their rules.” I wasn’t thrilled that he’d roughed Dutch up, when the guy would probably have come in on his own once he knew I’d been shot.
“I’ll try to not kill him.”
“And I’m going,” I added.
There was a chorus of “no you’re not”s.
“I’ll stay back, along the perimeter. If it helps, I’ll stand near Ahia. And I’ll wear a protective vest.” I met each of their eyes in turn. “I’m second in this pack. I was the one who was shot. I’m going.”
Karl reached out and touched my hair, his fingers gently smoothing downward to rest on my shoulder. “Okay. Be careful?”
I put my hand on top of his. “You’re the one taking this guy down, you be careful. And don’t kill him.”
He grinned. “I’ll try my best.”
“Do I have to go?” Dutch asked.
I tried to smile reassuringly, but in all honesty we couldn’t ensure Dutch, or any of us, would come out of this alive. “Yes. Yes, you have to go too. After all, you’re the one with the bullets.”
16
It turns out Karl had my phone. He’d used it to call Brent, then called up the address on the GPS that I’d used to find Hit-The-Mark. Sneaky bastard. The calming drive plus punching Dutch in the face didn’t have the stress-reduction effects I’d hoped. The bear was on edge. Which worried me. He’d admitted to problems controlling murderous impulses, and I feared being face-to-face with my attacker would put him over the edge.
“Hate this fucking vest thing,” he snapped, yanking at the thick Kevlar plates. Ahia was driving, because Brent hadn’t ordered a vest big enough for Karl so he couldn’t stretch his arms out straight in front of him to grip the steering wheel. And, evidently, nobody trusted a werewolf who’d been shot around noon to be driving eight hours later.
“You need to wear the vest,” I repeated. “He’ll probably shoot you on sight, and nobody wants a giant prehistoric bear going rogue just outside of the city limits.�
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“Ooo, I do!” Ahia exclaimed. “We could film it, dub in some audio, and voila! Paleolithic Grizzly versus old growth pine. I’ve got the perfect soundtrack.”
Karl growled at her. I wanted to growl at her. Normally I found Ahia downright hysterical, but I was on edge too, and I was still in pain from being shot. Twice.
We pulled up roughly a mile from our meeting spot. Ahia drove the Jeep off-road to hide it and I nearly passed out from being bounced around the back seat. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. I probably should have stayed at the Alpha house on the couch and slept.
“You okay to hike this?” Ahia sent a concerned look through the rearview mirror.
“Yep.” Might as well act like this wasn’t a big deal. I’d insisted on coming, and I wasn’t about to wimp out now and stay in the Jeep. Especially because that would mean Ahia would have to stay with me on guard duty, and as our pack angel, it was important for her to be present in case everything went horribly wrong.
Please Lord, don’t let everything go horribly wrong.
“I’m gonna run on ahead. If I can run in this motherfucking thing,” Karl grumbled. “Brina, you good?”
No. “Yep, I’m good. Go. Be careful. Don’t kill him.”
“I’ll try my best.” Karl hopped out of the Jeep and vanished into the woods. Of course, since he was a bear shifter, he sounded like an elephant plowing through bushes. Hopefully he’d get there early enough to sit quietly out of the way because I was pretty sure even a human could hear him from a mile away.
Ahia purposely kept her pace slow to accommodate me, keeping me in her line of sight the whole agonizingly long mile. I was pretty sure she was poised to catch me in case I fell over. My babysitter. I should have stayed behind. Here I was, injured, pretty much useless, tying up one of our most powerful pack members to watch me. Next time I wouldn’t let my pride get in the way of my common sense.
We got to our spot and I sat down, resting my back against a tree. We’d hunted as a pack so many times that this felt familiar. I knew where Brent had stationed the others, could scent a few of them in the air. Ahia stripped, and with a flash of light shifted into her wolf form. Her eyes glinted silver in the moonlight, her black and tawny fur ruffling in the breeze.
We waited. Half an hour later, a truck pulled into the camping area and Dutch got out, carrying a box. He looked around then stood, highlighted by the truck’s headlights. I wanted to hiss at him to get down. Idiot. I could collectively feel the wolves around me roll their eyes.
A branch snapped and a man emerged into the lit-up camping area. I snapped to attention, realizing that I hadn’t even known he was there or heard him arrive. Had he been here before us? Did he know he was surrounded by shifters?
“Mason.” There was relief in Dutch’s voice. “I wasn’t sure you were coming. Why couldn’t you just meet me at the shop? This all seems ridiculously cloak-and-dagger.”
I pursed my mouth in admiration, realizing that Dutch was a far better actor than I’d ever thought.
“Those the bullets?” Mason’s voice was deep, echoing through the woods. He was an imposing guy, tall and muscled with a shaved head, just as the witness to the shooting had described. I couldn’t see his neck tattoo from here, but I could clearly see the pistol at his hip and the rifle in his hand.
“Yeah, all the unsold ones. I also have a list of everyone that’s bought them since I began distributing. I keep all that stuff for follow up. Repeat customers, you know.” Dutch’s acting skills were falling apart under pressure and he was now babbling. He shoved the box at Mason, and when the man didn’t take it, he set it on a tree stump.
“Open it. Give me the .308s.”
Dutch did as requested. I could see him trembling even from my distance.
Mason examined the bullets, then loaded them into the rifle. “Get the others, and put them in this bag.”
He shrugged a small nylon sack off one shoulder and plopped it onto the ground. This was starting to feel like a bank heist. I wondered why Karl hadn’t made his move yet. Did Mason have buddies in the tree line somewhere? He’d been invisible to me, so perhaps he had a dozen armed guys that none of us could see.
Dutch bent to pick up the sack, and the brush exploded with action. Karl rushed into the clearing along with four wolves. Zeph leapt on top of Dutch, pinning him to the ground and covering him with his tawny-furred body. Matt clamped his jaws around the box of bullets and took off into the woods. Just as Mason pointed and fired the rifle at Zeph, Karl plowed into him, knocking him to the ground.
Ahia shot me a quick “stay here” glance and took off.
I held my breath, praying that the bullet hadn’t hit Zeph. If it had, then Dutch was dead. There was another gunshot. I saw the motion of wolves moving through the woods, closing in so that if Mason got away from the camping area, he wouldn’t be able to flee far.
Karl was wrestling with the man, rolling on the ground. He’d managed to knock the rifle out of Mason’s hand, but the man had grabbed his pistol and fired off several shots right into Karl’s chest.
I heard him grunt. I smelled blood. And I snarled with fury to realize that he’d taken the vest off. Once this was over I was going to kill him. I was going to pin him to the ground and rip his limbs off.
And now I prayed that the pistol had only held regular bullets and not the spelled ones, because in spite of Ahia’s comment in the car, a rogue prehistoric bear wasn’t a good thing.
Mason kept shooting into Karl. And no one could help him because Brent, Ahia, and Tina were too busy keeping Zeph corralled away from Dutch, who was writhing on the ground.
Ahia transformed in a flash of light and wrapped her arms around Zeph, shocking him with a jolt of electricity, then hitting him on the head with a rock. Then Brent and Tina held him down, while Ahia frantically clawed the bullet from his shoulder.
Mason pushed Karl aside enough to get his arm free and hit him on the head with the pistol grip. Karl’s head jerked to the side and Mason slid free, jumped to his feet and ran.
I did the same, not because I was worried that Mason would escape. He was surrounded. His deadly rifle had been knocked across the camping area and was somewhere under the truck. He had an empty pistol. No, it wasn’t Mason I was worried about, it was Karl who had taken an entire magazine of bullets to the chest and been hit in the head.
Shifters can survive a lot of damage. Getting shot usually isn’t a death sentence. But getting shot that many times could overwhelm our healing abilities. We weren’t immortal. Even Ahia wasn’t technically immortal.
So I ran, gasping with pain the whole way and not caring. I needed to get to him. And when I heard another gunshot, I put on a burst of speed, plowing into the clearing.
Karl was moving, but he was on the ground in a huge pool of red. I threw myself down beside him, scrabbling to pull the tattered, blood-soaked shirt away from his chest. He growled and I froze, hair rising along the back of my neck. Because that was the growl of something very pissed-off, something inhumanly strong, something that could take my head off with one swipe of a giant paw.
Karl’s eyes were completely gold. I caught my breath, holding still like a rabbit caught in the briars. Were the bullets tainted? Was I about to be murdered by the man I might eventually someday soon love?
“Fucking told you to stay back,” he snarled.
I let out a breath and collapsed, a sob ripping out of me as I smashed my face against his bloody shirt. “You’re okay? You’re okay. They were tainted? How many bullets did you take? Jeez Louise, Karl, you should be breathing your last right now.”
“Half demon,” he huffed out. “Guess this is one time I should be thanking the bastard who fathered me, huh?”
I sniffed and gave him a watery smile. I might be a dominant wolf. I might be second to the Alpha. But that had been the most terrifying moment of my life running down here and wondering if Karl was alive or not.
“You.” His voice was stern,
accusatory. “You were supposed to stay on the perimeter, not come hauling your cute ass down here. We had it handled. You didn’t need to come down here to save the day.”
Silly bear. “I didn’t come down here to save the day, you fool. I came down here because I thought my boyfriend was mortally injured.”
His eyebrows went up. “Boyfriend?”
Yeah. Sorta. “Bearfriend? Boybear? No, that doesn’t sound right either. Bear-main-squeeze? How about that?”
He chuckled and ran a very bloody hand through my hair. Which was okay I guess since my hair was already red. “Did they catch him?”
Crap, I hadn’t even bothered to look.
I got up, and Karl rose to his feet, pulling the bloody shirt over his head and wiping his body with the non-bloody parts of the fabric. Which was very distracting. Would we need to sedate him and dig the bullets out later? Had they gone through-and-through? Did his half-demon parentage mean he could somehow pulverize them inside his body and make them disappear?
“He’s dead.”
I turned at Karl’s words and looked. Mason Sharpe was spread-eagle on the ground, eyes wide open, a hole neatly placed between his eyes. Around him stood half a dozen puzzled wolves.
“Who shot him?” I asked, glancing over toward the truck. The only gun with bullets was the rifle, and it was still on the ground with no one near it. The rest of us, except for Karl and me, had been on four legs.
Well, and Ahia, who was breathless and naked, looking like she wanted to punch something or someone. “It came from out in the woods. I think the bullets aren’t the only magic they have access to. I didn’t see or hear this guy before he walked into the clearing, and obviously there was someone else out there we didn’t detect who had a rifle and a scope.”
Great. All the positive PR we’d gained from me being the victim of this guy would now go down the drain. We’d be suspected of killing him, of taking the law into our own hands. I wasn’t sure if even Dutch’s witness statement would completely clear our name on this one.
And with Mason Sharpe dead, we’d lost the one person who might be convinced to serve up his two partners in return for a plea deal. Which was probably the reason he’d been killed tonight.
