Boarlander Silverback

by T. S. Joyce

“No!” Kirk barked out, too loud and way too fast.

  Clinton turned around and stared at him as if he’d lost his damned mind, which he had. “Okay, boy scout. Get Damon to eat them then.”

  Mason groaned. “Clinton, you’re so dumb it gives me a headache. You heard Cora. She said keep Damon from eating people, not feed people to him.”

  “Who would know?”

  “Whoever sent them here, dumbass!” Harrison griped, swatting at a fly with his yellow hardhat before he put it back on his head. “No more suggestions from you.”

  “We could be friends with them,” Bash said.

  “People like them can’t be friends with people like us,” Harrison said softly. “They’re here for bad reasons, Bash. A friendship with them wouldn’t benefit us. It would give them intel. It would give them power over us. We would care about them right up until the moment they pulled the trigger on us.”

  Kirk swallowed hard and wiped his chin on his throbbing shoulder. Harrison was right. Alison hadn’t even hesitated. She’d come weapon drawn and been fine using it on him.

  “But if we were friends, maybe they wouldn’t want to pull that trigger,” Bash murmured. “I like friends. Not enemies. Me and Emerson got a cub comin’. Don’t want no danger.”

  Kirk smiled and gripped Bash’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, man. She and your cub are safe. She’s got all our protection.”

  “Not mine,” Clinton said lightly. He ripped the cord of his chainsaw and went to work cutting a wedge from a tree.

  Kirk shook his head. Bullshit. Clinton would throw himself in front of a moving train if it would save Audrey and Emerson from hurt. He just didn’t want to admit he cared about them or anyone else.

  Kirk made it a safe distance away and pulled the cord of his own chainsaw. His arm hurt with the motion, and for the hundredth time, he remembered the look on Alison’s face when she’d realized she shot him. Sad, disappointed, and so damned beautiful.

  He didn’t give a shit about her partner, Finn Brackeen, but Alison had drawn his animal straight up when she’d held her ground at his charge. She was brave, and under that tough-woman exterior, she harbored a surprising submissiveness that made no sense to him.

  All of his first impressions of her had been wrong, and now he wanted to know more. Wanted to know everything. That was terrifying.

  Being part of Kong’s family group had stifled his urge to choose a mate. Being under a more dominant silverback did that. But being around the Boarlanders was changing everything. Logging season was almost over, and he would go back to the Lowlanders. He balked against the idea, but it would be best. The woman he was unsettlingly interested in could be the most dangerous decision he could make for the Boarlanders.

  And they deserved better.

  Chapter Three

  “Damon Daye has put off a meeting with us for two weeks now,” Alison said into the phone.

  Porter had been the one who’d gotten her off desk work and into this job. Sure, it was a crappy gig, but it was better than pushing papers all day. At least she was out on the streets again…er…the forest.

  “Well, push the issue because you have to build up some kind of rapport with these people.” The way he had said “people” grated on her nerves, like they were animals instead. Understandable since she’d come here thinking the same thing, but after two encounters with some of the shifters of Damon’s mountains, now she wasn’t so sure.

  “Porter, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing here,” she admitted. “Brackeen and I have been told so little, and he seems fine with that, but I want clearer boundaries on this job.”

  “So, you’re bored.”

  She laughed and leaned on the kitchen counter of her cabin, crossed one arm under her elbow as she held the cell phone closer. “Well, it’s a different pace here than in Chicago, that’s for sure.”

  “Enjoy the sunshine and fresh air, Holman.”

  “Is this to help with the problems I had before? Is this like a rest and relaxation job? Because I have to tell you, the rest of the world seems to have its prejudices with the shifters, but Saratoga seems pretty docile. Pro-shifter, in fact. The shifters don’t have a single late permit, certificate, damned speeding ticket. They’re clean, Porter, and from what I can tell, they are just up here trying to live their lives. So that’s it, right? Send me on this bullshit job to give me some time to get over what happened?” She would rather log roll in poison ivy than talk about what had taken her from active duty, but she had so many questions about what the higher-ups wanted her doing out here, and Porter had been a slippery little bugger with his answers lately.

  “Up there trying to live their lives—except for Damon killing an entire secret branch of the damned government. The Breck Crew outed that shit, Holman. Outed a top secret group to the public, and it looks bad for everyone who even smells of IESA. But that doesn’t negate the fact that Damon played hungry dragon with actual living people.”

  “Yeah, I know. I get it. Justice and all.” But was it justice if they were just defending themselves? Because she’d defended herself, and everyone on the force had said that was okay and she shouldn’t feel guilt. But there seemed to be a double standard with shifters because of the animal’s that resided within them.

  “Eye on the prize, Holman. Don’t go all sympathizer on me. You’re there to keep peace, for them and for humans.”

  “Okay, I know. I’m the point of contact between the outside world and them.”

  “Exactly. You’ll do great, and eventually you’ll come back, and we’ll get you back on the streets.”

  Back on the streets—that statement held a terrifying combination of words. Back undercover, he meant. Back in the darkness. Back where no one could save her fast enough when things went bad. Back to being alone with real monsters. She closed her eyes against the memories that scratched at her mind, begging for a replay. Not here, not now. Not ever if she could help it.

  The throaty rumble of a car sounded outside. Probably a groupie wanting to get up into the mountains for a picture with a shifter. The shifters had a massive fan base here. “I have to go. I have to check someone in.” And sadly, it would be the most exciting thing that happened all day.

  “Head down, focus on that endgame,” Porter said. “Babysit those shifters and then get back to normal life.”

  She hung up and huffed a humorless laugh. Normal life meant the mean streets of Chicago, a shitty, rat-infested apartment too close to the trains, her life at risk every day, and the constant internal reminder to not let herself get too close to anyone. People who got too close to her had short expiration dates.

  On that dark thought, she pushed off the counter and sauntered through the small living area to the front door. Her cabin had the office sign on it, so she got to turn away the groupies. Lucky her. She didn’t even know what the hell Brackeen did all day.

  She hooked her badge to the waist of her jeans, pulled open the door, and put on her neutral business face, which fell straight off when she saw who had pulled into the circle drive in front of her cabin.

  A shiny green Mustang with black racing stripes, and leaned up against it like he’d been there all day was none other than Kirk Slater. Hole-riddled jeans graced his long legs, one foot crossed over the other, and a V-neck white T-shirt clung to his torso like a second skin. Dark two-day stubble dusted his chiseled jaw, and his dark eyes narrowed at her. Huh, his eyes weren’t the glowing gold of his silverback, but a soft brown instead. “Damon is ready to see you.”

  “Oh,” she said, surprised. “Uuuh, I have to wait for my partner to come back.”

  “He isn’t interested in meeting your asshole partner. Just you.”

  “So, let me get this straight. You want me to drive deep into the heart of the dragon’s mountains without my partner. Without backup.”

  Kirk laughed and shook his head. “We ain’t at war with you, Alison.”

  “Ally.” She cleared her throat as her cheeks heated. Why
the hell had she said that? “My friends call me Ally.”

  “Lie.”

  Oh yeah, she forgot about that whole built-in lie-detection instinct shifters had. “I wished my friends called me Ally.”

  Kirk canted his head and frowned. “Half-truth.”

  Alison closed her eyes as her mortification burned over her cheeks and up to her ears. “I don’t have many friends, but if I did, I would like them to call me Ally.”

  Kirk waited a few moments too long in his response to be polite, and when he did talk, all he said was, “Get in.” Then he pulled his door open and slid in behind the wheel.

  Get in? She cast a glance back at her cabin. Her holster was hung by the door.

  Kirk rolled down the window. “Ally, if you want a ride to the dragon’s lair, get in now. No weapons, or you’ll piss me and everyone else off there. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “And I’m supposed to just trust you?”

  “Have I given you any reason not to?” he asked, dark brows jacked up.

  “I don’t trust anyone. Force of habit.”

  “That’s a sad story. Now get your ass in my car before I drag you in here. I don’t want you traipsing all over the mountainside alone looking for Damon. The Gray Backs won’t be as nice as my crew.” His brows lowered. “I mean the Boarlanders, not my crew.”

  This was a terrible idea, but Brackeen was down in Saratoga, again, and she’d been vying for this meeting with Damon since the day she’d arrived. And though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, a deep buried instinct told her Kirk was safe. Which was ridiculous because he’d probably told his crew about her shooting him, and he was most likely taking her into the woods to exact revenge. Despite her logic though, she wasn’t getting that hair-raising feeling she got when something was going south.

  “You should know,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat, “I am trained in self-defense.”

  “Yeah, I could tell by the way you went limp the other day when I charged.”

  “I shot you first, smartass.”

  Kirk let off a single, “Ha!” But then looked surprised that he’d laughed. He turned the engine, and it roared to life.

  The seats smelled like rich leather, and he had an air freshener that read new car smell along the bottom. It hung from the rearview mirror, swaying back and forth as he pulled out of her circle drive. The Mustang was a manual transmission, so he shifted expertly and gassed it onto the main road. The unexpected speed tickled her stomach.

  Kirk looked at her quick, his eyes on her smiling lips, before he dragged his attention back to the road. “Chicks dig the car,” he said.

  “Oh, my God, you’re one of those guys,” she said, leaning back against the headrest.

  “What kind of guys?”

  “You know.” She narrowed her eyes and repeated, “You know.”

  “Okay, cop, spill it. Tell me what kind of guy I am, based on your two seconds of talking to me.”

  She sighed and stretched her legs out. “You’re cocky. Sexy and you know it. Drive the car for attention and because the shifter groupies in town drop their panties when you drive by with that rumbling motor. You’re a vroom vroom get-em-wet guy. You’ve probably banged thirty women in the back seat and at least five against the hood because that’s part of the bad boy lure. I bet I can guess what will come on the stereo if I turn it on. It’ll be something older and rocky with a hard-hitting beat. And you’re a one-chance kind of man.”

  “What the hell does that even mean?”

  “If I put my bare feet on your glove box, breathed on your window, smudged your leather, or brought a drink in here, you would never let me ride in your car again.”

  “Sexy and I know it,” he said, shooting her a quick grin.

  “That’s what you took away from all that?”

  “Well, it’s the only part that’s true. I thought a cop would be better at this, but clearly—”

  “Tell me which parts are wrong,” she challenged him.

  Kirk clamped his teeth closed and shook his head. “Nah, I’m not playing this anymore. You nailed me. One hundred percent correct. Good job.”

  He shifted gears and hit the gas, then shifted up again. Her stomach dipped with the speed, and she let off a surprised laugh. Kirk grinned and hit another gear, and now they were flying.

  “You gonna give me a speeding ticket?”

  “Yes!” she said giggling as she held her stomach. It was like being on a roller coaster. “Slow down right now.”

  The engine wailed as he let off the gas and downshifted. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He hit the blinker and turned onto a dirt road, but they’d already passed the turnoff for the Grayland Mobile Park.

  “Where are you taking me? Damon is a Gray Back.”

  “False. Damon is whatever he wants to be. He has pledged to no one, and neither has his mate or son.”

  “Why not?”

  Kirk shot her a nice-try look. “If you have questions about the dragon, you can ask him yourself and see how much he tells you. I like my hide where it is, thank you very much.”

  “You mean you don’t want to be burned and eaten.”

  “Damon wouldn’t do that,” Kirk said quietly.

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’d never hurt the people he loves. You think he’s a monster, but he’s lived for millennia and has seen the real beasts. And they aren’t you or me. It’s good to be wary of the dragon. He deserves respect. But he’s also a good man, and one worth getting to know.”

  “Why are you helping me?”

  Kirk twitched his head and made a single click behind his teeth. He pulled onto another road and sped along the gravel, kicking up clouds of dust. “I don’t know why I’m helping.”

  “Lie,” she bluffed.

  Kirk shifted gears again and inhaled deeply, his chest rising with the motion. “Because I can’t stop thinking about…”

  Her heart pounded against her sternum. “Can’t stop thinking about what?”

  “How you looked that first night, when you were giving us the news that laws for shifters were changing. We’re having our rights stripped away, and Brackeen didn’t give a single fuck how that affected us, but you looked at Bash and Emerson, and you were gutted with us. Do you know other shifters?”

  “No. You’re the first ones I’ve met.”

  “And yet you know how to expose your neck when we’re riled up. You know not to give us your back and run. Bringing the gun was dumb as shit, but everything else, you got. I’m helping because maybe if you see how life really is up here, you won’t be scared of us. You won’t go back to your boss and tell them what animals we are. Maybe you’ll see more, and maybe you’ll be better for it. You want to work up in these mountains and have access to us? You won’t get that pointing your Glock at everyone. We’re people, Ally. We have families up here, mates, people we love. How would you like if someone came into your home and pointed a gun at the people you love?”

  Ally blinked hard and stared out the window so he couldn’t see the loss in her eyes when she said, “I do know how that feels.”

  Kirk was quiet for a while, and they drove deeper into the mountains in silence. At last he said, “I’m sorry for whatever you’ve gone through, but can you see why we get defensive? We’ve been through more than you can imagine, just fighting for normal.”

  Alison sighed and reached forward, turned the volume up on the radio. A rap song came on. Not many people surprised her, and Kirk was proving to be a breath of fresh air.

  “The car wasn’t to get pussy,” he said. “My dad gave it to me. He gave one to all his kids to fix up.”

  “How many kids did he have?”

  Kirk’s lips turned up in a vacant smile. “You’ll judge.”

  “I won’t. Tell me.”

  “Fifteen.”

  “Fifteen kids?” she said way too loud.

  “Told you.”

  “No, no, I’m not judging,” she rasped out
, trying to regain her composure. “Your mother must’ve loved being pregnant.”

  “Mothers. I lived in a family group. Gorilla shifters are different. One silverback for several females. At least we were different until Kong upended our entire society. Now it’s a free-for-all. My people are scrambling to figure out whether to continue in their family groups or pair up with a single mate.”

  “And you? What have you decided?” She hoped he wanted a single mate.

  “No.”

  “No, what?”

  “We’re not getting into feeling shit. You shot me. You’re dangerous to my people, and I’m not bonding with you. I want a hundred mates. I want to fuck every woman I meet, and I want them all to be mine.” His voice had gone hollow and strange sounding. “I’ll never settle down with one. I’m a big dominant breeder, and I’ll be just as aloof to the tens of kids I father as my dad was with me. Don’t ask me questions like that anymore.”

  He pulled up to the side of a cliff where a construction crew was working to rebuild a demolished house right into the rocky face. She wanted to be awed, but she was having trouble keeping her gaze from Kirk for too long.

  “What’s your problem?” she asked. She’d never been a fan of men who were hot and cold, and Kirk was the ice king right now.

  “Rebellious teenager,” Kirk guessed. “You wanted to be a cop to feel powerful. Submissive personality you hate, so you picked a job where you could bully people and feel empowered. No friends because you give up on people to avoid rejection. You pull triggers easily because you’re scared, and then you feel guilt because you realize you’ve lost the person you wanted to be.” He dragged his dark gaze to her. “How close am I?”

  She huffed a disgusted sound and shook her head, infinitely disappointed in what a jerk he’d turned out to be. Her eyes burned as she said, “Rebellious teenager, check. Raised in a girls’ home, no parents, landed in juvie three times before I got recruited right out of high school.”

  His face went slack. “Recruited for what?”

  “Undercover narcotics. And I don’t have friends because fuck you.” She threw him one last dirty look and shoved the door open. “I can find my way back without your help.” She slammed his door and walked toward the half-built house.