Chapter Eleven
“What do you think?”
Geoff watched the wolf leave from his vantage point behind a two-way mirror, right behind the barkeep’s station. Given the size of the mirror and its location, he could look over nearly the entire room without difficulty.
He considered the strutting adult male for a long moment. The guy didn’t back down an inch from the juvenile and had managed to kick ass in less than three minutes with hardly any injury to himself. Yet something nagged at him. Something big.
“He claimed to be tired of pack politics?”
“Yeah. And thought about starting his own pack. Just traveling right now until he finds the right place. But he’s been around for a few days, so maybe he’s found it.” Thomas sat on the wide leather couch on the other side of the office. “He’s a damn good fighter. Probably seen a lot of action.”
“Definitely an alpha,” Geoff thought out loud.
“Oh, yeah. Carries enough attitude for ten wolves.”
“Hmmm.” The wolf turned around and swirled the amber liquid in his glass.
Thomas’ eyebrow rose. “What? I thought you’d jump at the opportunity to invite him into the pack. He’s perfect.”
“Maybe. But, my gut is telling me something.”
“Such as?”
“He’s too perfect.”
Quiet reigned for a long moment before Thomas spoke again. “You think he’s a ringer?”
Geoff shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “Possible. There’s only one way to find out.”
“How? He didn’t give his name.”
Gesturing toward the computer, Geoff strode over to his solid oak desk and sat down, the leather office chair squeaking quietly in protest of his weight. “We’ve got video and we can pull finger prints from his glass. If he’s legit, we won’t find anything.”
“If he’s not?”
“Then it’s time for our small army to hunt bigger prey.”
* * * *
“You did what?”
“Set up a meeting with the rogue.”
Rick stared at his long-time partner. “When did you decide to go undercover?”
“When the opportunity presented itself.”
“I’m not sure that’s the smartest plan. What if Geoff makes you or has some test for you to pass?”
Dillon shrugged. “I’ll deal with it when and if that happens.”
Rick growled deep in his throat. He wanted to throttle the alpha for jumping into the boiling pot of danger—without him. “You’ll deal? You’ll deal?” Rick started pacing back and forth, his steps laced with agitation. “You’ll end up torn apart. Or does your arrogance carry your pea brain above the level of reality of one wolf versus two dozen other shifters?”
A quiet tap at the door interrupted their argument. Rick hurried over, already scenting their visitor.
Copper stepped in the room, glanced from one wolf to another then shook his head. “Care to tell me what’s going on?”
Rick threw his arms up in the air. “Dumbass Dillon has a meeting with Geoff tomorrow night.”
“Probably. I won’t know for sure until I go to the bar.” Dillon stood against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest, for all intents and purposes, appearing like a man lazily people-watching with a hint of amusement.
Rick turned his head and snarled. “Oh, he will.” He swiveled back to the lion. “He’s going in alone, despite the possibility of an entire rogue gang turning on his ass.”
“He’s what?” Copper frowned as he stared at the other alpha. “When did you grow bigger balls than brains?”
Dillon rolled his eyes but answered calmly. “What better way to track down the rogue than infiltrate his pack? I get in, feed you guys information, then we can organize a way to take them out.”
“And if you’re made?” Copper tilted his head as his eyes flashed.
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”
Rick cussed vehemently. “Hope? That’s what you’re going with? Hope?”
“Do you have any better plans? Because as far as I can tell, this is our best shot.” Dillon eased from the wall and walked forward, his face pinched with frustration.
Rick sighed, worried. “No, damn it.”
Copper ran a hand through his chestnut hair. “You’ve got a point—even if I hate the idea.”
“We’ll just find a way to back you up.” Rick nodded. “Stay under their radar while being there, in case you get into trouble.”
“They’ll get panicky if they catch the scent of others around,” Dillon warned.
For the first time since entering the room, Copper grinned wryly. “I think we can handle that particular problem.”
“We?”
He grunted. “We. Rick and I. We’ll have your scent. If Geoff stays true to form, he’ll meet one place then move to another for the big drama. With any luck, the followers will be distracted by the sport about to happen. It’ll allow us to get into position.”
Dillon shook his head. “Three against who knows how many shifters? The odds aren’t any better. Just let me go undercover alone. I’ll play the part, and we’ll lure them into a trap.”
“No way in hell.” Rick stared at his mate with a blatant promise of retribution. “Where you go, I go.”
“Maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to tip the odds in our favor.” Copper tapped his lips.
“How?”
“Let me check something out. I’ll call you soon, so keep your phone on.”
“We’ve got less than twenty-four hours,” Dillon reminded him.
“Yeah, I know. Close but not impossible.” With one more glance, Copper let himself out of the front door.
“Nothing’s going to happen, love.” Dillon eased to Rick’s side and pulled him against his body. “I may be crazy but never suicidal.” Before planting a kiss to Rick’s temple, he licked the beta’s ear.
“Going in alone is suicidal, you idiot.” Rick lost his anger and agitation, turning to a flat acceptance laced with worry.
“I won’t be alone. I’ll have you and Copper at my back.”
“Which is nowhere near enough if the gang decides to fight instead of flee.”
Dillon nuzzled Rick’s cheek. “We’ll find a way. Always have before. Besides, I have a feeling the cat is going to end up pulling a hat trick out of his ass.”
Rick slowly smiled at the image Dillon’s words provided. “I hope so.”
“He will. We aren’t drawn to him for nothing.”
Chapter Twelve
“This is Geoff. Our alpha.”
Dillon stared at the man who’d just topped a small rise in the woods to meet him and the black bear bartender. Geoff was a couple of inches shorter than him and thinner, more like a marathon runner than a stocky athlete. Medium brown hair matched dark brown eyes, which gleamed with an unnatural glee. His face furrowed as he studied Dillon from head to toe, his expression one of curiosity mixed with determination. Glancing down, Dillon checked out the man’s right hand. Sure enough, the last finger was missing the end joint, just as Tryst had said.
Dillon nodded toward the rogue, patiently waiting for the man to make judgment and speak.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.” He stopped several feet from Dillon and the bear, his long-sleeved flannel shirt billowing in the light breeze.
“Same here.”
“My friend tells me you’re quite the fighter. Took out one of the wolves without breaking a sweat.”
Dillon shrugged.
“We could use someone with such abilities.” He met Dillon’s gaze and held steady. “Perhaps you’d like to meet the rest of the pack before making your decision?”
“Sure.” Dillon followed along, easily seeing in the full moonlight with his enhanced sight. They walked along a short trail in the woods before heading west to a clearing. Scents wafted to him on the breeze—several individuals, mainly wolves, with a sprinkling of other animal DNA mixed in. If he had to guess, the p
ack already consisted of nearly fifteen to twenty. Not a good number for their plan.
Geoff led him to the center of a flat area then stopped. The black bear fell back as the other members came forward from their positions in the trees, encircling Dillon and the rogue leader.
The hairs on Dillon’s neck stood on end. He schooled his features for calm interest, determined to show no signs of nervousness, despite the dwindling odds. If he went down fighting, so be it. He’d take Geoff with him.
Geoff turned toward the crowd. “This is Dillon, the one I told you about.”
The certainty of a trap slapped Dillon in the chest like a runaway train. He never told the bartender or Geoff his name—which meant that they had done some checking on their own. Nothing they would’ve found would have endeared him to them. He glanced around, but kept his attention centered on the man responsible for this mess. One way or another, Geoff wouldn’t walk away from this night.
“It seems our new friend deceived us, misrepresented himself. He didn’t want to join us, he came to destroy us.”
A couple of gasps and growls sounded.
“I think this is a great opportunity to show everyone what happens to traitors in our pack.” He turned cold eyes on Dillon.
Dillon met the evil stare and didn’t even flinch. The announcement of plans for his demise didn’t shock him in the least. If Geoff expected him to grovel or beg, he had another thing coming.
“Together, my friends, we shall tear this rogue apart. Let him be your example of what happens to those who oppose or betray us.”
Slowly, the circle began to close as Geoff stepped back.
Dillon shifted his weight from side to side, preparing to lunge or move, judging his chances and potential courses of action. He moved to the side, staying close to the leader.
The group marched forward, some in animal form, most still in human form. Angry and intent, he expected they’d leap at the chance for more blood lust and sacrifice. At least the full moon provided plenty of light for his shifter eyesight to catch every movement of his attackers.
He caught a whiff of lions. Dozens of them. A moment later, they approached, surrounding the circle of gang members, outnumbering them in the process. An all too familiar solid black timber wolf stood in the middle of the group. Mason. For once, Dillon didn’t begrudge the other alpha’s presence.
“Stand down,” a deep feline voice ordered. “You’re all under arrest and will stand before the Mountain Cat Council for sentencing.”
With those words, most of the youths bolted, a few jumped on the offense, intent upon fighting their way out of the predicament. A nearby fox shifter lunged for him. Smashing his fist into the shifter’s nose, Dillon watched his assailant go down holding his bleeding face.
Dillon looked around then sniffed deeply. Geoff was on the run. Shifting into his furry form, he sprinted after his target.
The sights and sounds of battle grew quieter as he chased Geoff, who had shifted to his wolf as well. Nearly upon the man, Dillon slid to a stop beside the old Spring Well House, finding Geoff once more human with his back to the brick wall. Hackles raised, he growled in blatant warning.
Geoff held out his hands. “It doesn’t have to be like this. We can go elsewhere, start our own group.”
Dillon switched back to human. “Fuck you, rogue. You’re going nowhere but Hell.”
“You’re casting blame and sentence all at once?” Geoff edged to the right. “So presumptive and dictator-ish.”
“Blame your bloody hands for your fate. Killing innocents is an automatic death sentence. You knew that, yet you still indulged. Worse, you drew in others, youths who believed your bullshit about pack politics. You brainwashed them to believe that nothing short of taking over the area and killing all humans would give them happiness.”
“But it’s true. Only when shifters rule this earth will we be truly happy. The naysayers and lesser beings will fall, leaving only as nature intended, the strongest and smartest surviving.” Geoff glanced to the side, then back at Dillon.
The barkeeper lunged out from the side of the building, a large, shiny knife in hand.
Shit.
Dillon jumped, but couldn’t avoid the nick of a knife blade held in the hands of the barkeeper. With a growl, he threw a punch to the man’s throat. The knife fell to the forest floor while he grappled with the strong black bear shifter.
As they rolled, a large feline dashed toward the group, his mouth open as he sucked in deep breaths of air. Powerful muscles rippled as he ran, propelling him forward with sprinter’s speed.
“Nice try, wolf, but I’m not that easy to kill.” Geoff grabbed the discarded knife and pulled back his arm.
A feline roar rang out and the tawny streak flashed to Dillon’s side. Rick’s blond wolf form launched at Geoff, snapping his powerful jaws and sharp teeth into the man.
The bear grunted and punched. Dillon quickly shifted to his base form, his black timber wolf instantly on the attack. He sank his teeth into the bear’s arm, held on tight, then yanked back, toppling the man, and leaving deep open wounds, which bled heavily. Before his opponent could recover, he pounced on his neck, bit deep and tore. The man’s body went limp in death.
Turning, he found Geoff in the same condition. Rick unlocked his teeth from the man’s neck, leaving his head sitting at an odd angle. Didn’t take a crime scene investigator to tell Geoff had died from a broken neck.
Hearing a low moan of pain, Dillon swiveled quickly. A huge lion lay on his side in the grass, a knife sticking out of his ribs.
He instantly recognized the downed animal. After rushing over, he knelt at the cat’s side. “Copper.”
Rick followed suit, falling to his knees behind him. “How bad?”
Dillon checked the wound and grimaced. Judging from the size of the knife handle and the location of penetration, the injury ranged from critical to deadly. They’d have to remove the knife and have Copper shift immediately to human and back to lion form in order to have a chance. Changing forms rejuvenated the tissues and cells of the body for shape shifters, healing wounds in seconds that might have proven mortal to a mere human or animal. Since Copper’s lion form would be the strongest, he’d need to go human, then back to lion in order to heal the most successfully in a short period of time.
“Copper. I’m going to remove the knife. You’ll have to shift right away. Human, then lion once more.”
The lion groaned and barely shook his head.
“Damn it. Stubborn cuss. You’re not going to die on us. Not when I care for you and need you,” Rick growled at the panting cat. “We don’t have time to get you to a healer. So listen up. As soon as Dillon removes the knife, you’re going to shift. Hell, I’ll help you shift. Whatever it takes to make you live.”
Dillon would have smiled if the situation hadn’t been so serious. Instead, he grasped the wooden handle. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three.” He steadily pulled the blade out, straight up, trying to avoid causing further injury.
Copper cried out in his lion form.
“Shift. Damn it. Shift.” Rick put his hands on Copper’s furry head.
Dillon watched and waited. Nothing happened except that blood flowed freely from the now open wound and Copper’s breathing became harsher. Panic hit him in the gut. No way was he going to lose the kitty after he’d finally embraced the idea of Copper as their third.
He leaned in and tugged on the lion’s ear. “Okay, Catnip. You’re going to shift forms this instant, or I’m going to come to Hell and kick your fucking ass.”
With a gulp of air, the lion paused then disappeared. In his place, a nude Copper flashed for a brief moment before a large, tawny lion took the man’s place.
Chapter Thirteen
Copper opened the door to his home just as the first hint of dawn crept over the horizon. After a late night battle, a near death experience then more questions from the lion commanders than he could possibly stand, he and the wolf pair had finall
y made it home—to his house, which happened to be closer than their hotel. Despite the extreme tiredness, he remained keyed up, a testimony to the leftover adrenaline still flowing through his system.
He clicked on a table lamp and waited for Rick to lock the door behind him before speaking. “Hungry?”
“Not really.” Dillon shook his head.
Rick mirrored his action. “A shower is in order, though.”
“Go for it.” Copper gestured down the hall. “Just save me some hot water.” He watched as the pair ambled down the hall, their actions reminiscent of someone struggling with pent-up tension and low energy levels. He could empathize.
He headed into the kitchen then grabbed a glass and filled it with ice water. Only when the contents were completely gone did he set the cup in the sink and head to the couch. He winced as he sat down, still sore in his right side where the knife had pierced deep.
As much as he considered the facts, he still couldn’t wrap his mind around what’d happened. All he knew was Geoff had stood over Dillon with a long knife in hand, waiting for the precise moment to strike home and kill him as he’d struggled with the bear. Copper’s inner lion had taken over, instinctively jumping between the weapon and the man, willingly taking the mortal wound meant for the alpha wolf. Afterward was a blur of pain, nausea, and difficult breathing. His minutes had been numbered and he’d known it. Rick had petted his fur and called to him, giving instructions as he’d pleaded with Copper to live. At that moment, doing anything more than sucking in air had been simply too hard. Until Dillon had gotten in his face and challenged the alpha inside. Only then had he pushed the pain aside, gathered his remaining energy, and shifted into human form for a brief second, then back to his stronger, feline self. Weak and winded, he’d lain on the cold earth for long minutes until the wolf pair had brought him clothes. At their insistence, he’d become a man once more, let them help him up, and dressed. Since then, he’d regained most of his strength, wrestled with jittery restlessness, and contemplated where his relationship with the wolves actually stood.
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