Chapter 3
NATE’S QUESTION burned through all of them. The boat had disappeared up one of the many tributaries. The human Wolves halted their progress while Rudy and Antoine ranged ahead in wolf form in hopes of finding some hint of their prey. Mac took out a SAT phone and called Sean. When the other man answered, Mac didn’t waste time.
“It’s confirmed. Black Root. Anything happening there?”
“Nope. All’s quiet here, boss. Lightfoot’s still up his tree just in case. Personally, I don’t think they know we’re here.”
“Awfully damn coincidental though.” Mac stared into the cypress grove like he could see the future revealed in the green and brown shadows.
“Yeah.” Sean hesitated, considering. “There is that. What about your end?”
“They’re not very close to home, but why would they be out here at all?”
“Good question.”
“And one we need an answer for stat.”
Sean sounded thoughtful. “They’re up to something. Did you find any sign of a base?”
“Not so far, plus we lost them. Too fuckin’ much water around here.”
Sean let loose a deep belly laugh. “Dude, we’re in the fu—friggin’ swamps. I’m surprised any of us can navigate our way out of a paper bag.”
“Who’s standing there?”
“Small ears.”
“Gotcha. Keep ’em close, Sean.”
“Always, bossman.”
Rustling in the underbrush diverted Mac’s attention and he broke the connection. Leaving the women and children made the Wolves unsettled and jumpy. The Black Root bastards had managed to snatch Liam right out from under their noses. A doctor on Black Root’s payroll—a traitor they’d been forced to keep at the ranch in Oklahoma—took Liam during the party after Harjo and Amy’s wedding. Mac had to fight the adrenaline rush burning through his muscles at the memory. The thought it could happen again to his son or one of the other children put a snarl on his face.
Scorched earth. They’d sent that message to the Deputy US Marshal who’d been dogging their trail, first in Texas, then their home base in Oklahoma. She’d been chasing Rudy, only to discover that Zevan Tornjak, Rudy’s twin, was the real criminal. Of course, she had no chance of tracking that particular bastard any longer. His body had gone up in flames when they imploded the Radix Labs facility last fall. Rudy and his mate, Isabelle, had rescued Liam. That made them pack and put Isabelle’s family under the Wolves’ protection.
Rudy appeared and shifted into human form. Nudity among Wolves was of no consequence, but Nate tossed him a pair of fatigues and a T-shirt. He filled them in while dressing.
“Antoine will hunt alone. I don’t believe they were looking for us, Mac. I think it was purely by chance Antoine and Liam were so close to the canal and caught them going by.”
“Why are they here?” Nate once again asked the question they all wanted an answer to.
“Black Root closed their LA office not long after we hit them in Nevada. They consolidated in New Orleans. Maybe they have a hidey hole because they sure haven’t surfaced anywhere else.” Mac and Sean had discussed this just last week. Sean had been running internet traps for the corporation since the previous fall.
Rudy and Nate exchanged a look and Nate once again expressed what they all thought. “Someone high up is still covering for them.”
“And they probably changed names,” Rudy added.
“Yeah.” Mac stared out into the swamp. “Antoine will be okay solo?”
Rudy nodded. “He’s been a loner his entire life. I think being around so many people makes him…uncomfortable. He’ll track and follow and will return when he knows something or there is no more trail to find.”
Mac shifted his gaze from the swamp to the men standing around him. “We’ll take his clothes back to the camp then.”
Shoving his feet into the boots Nate passed to him, Rudy agreed. “He is far more comfortable in fur than skin.” He focused on the same spot across the water where Mac had been looking. “Growing up without a pack is hard. Our children are blessed this will not be so for them.”
THE VOICE hissing from his cell phone just pissed him right the hell off. Weylin Scott did not suffer fools lightly and any bloody idiot who tried to tell him his job qualified for the title. He listened for another few minutes since the voice belonged to the man who signed his very lucrative paychecks.
“I expect you to take care of it. I want them all wiped out. I want the facility secured.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Don’t get flippant with me, Scott.”
“I know my fucking job, Mr. Smith.”
“Then do it.”
Smith cut off the call. Not that he was surprised. Smith thought he was in charge and enjoyed playing the power games to prove it. Weylin would deal with him sooner than later. For now, the money and perks were good, despite being stuck in this godforsaken swamp. Construction was wrapping up. Specimens would be transferred soon. With the locals none the wiser. He still had to deal with Smith’s other problem, but he had a plan for that too. He’d put out the call and his specialists would be arriving shortly. Getting expert assistance was easy when the man writing the checks had deep pockets and no sense of ethics.
The chug of a boat motor wafted across the water, the sound dampened by the low-lying fog clinging to the bayou’s surface. He waited in the shadows of the dock, his AR15 cradled loosely in his arms. Three men. Sweating profusely. Pumped full of cheap whiskey and beer. He sighed. Good help was so hard to find.
The motor cut off and water lapped against the sides of the boat with wet plops as it coasted into the dock. The man in the bow tied off the craft and clamored out. The other two heaved up onto the dock. Weylin stepped out of the mist.
“Holy fucking shit!” The first man reacted by pulling out his pistol and pointing it. The other two were slow to follow suit.
“What did you find out?”
The third man, the one who’d been piloting the boat, spat tobacco juice on the dock. Weylin’s nose flared at the odor. The guy pushed his way to the front, knocking aside his compatriot’s pistol. “S’far as anyone is concerned, those people don’t exist. I think we’re chasing fuckin’ ghosts.”
He smiled, and the expression widened as all three men stepped back. Instincts deeply ingrained in humans bubbled to the surface. He enjoyed the spikes of adrenaline flooding their systems. He was a predator and they recognized his superiority now. “They exist. I never said they would be easy to find. If you cannot do the job, I will find someone who can.”
They backed up another few steps. Perhaps they weren’t as stupid as he’d first surmised. They’d recognized his implied threat. “The men may seem like ghosts, but they have women with them. And children. Much harder to hide. Find them.” He turned on his heel, ready to dismiss them.
“There’s somethin’ else.”
He stilled, waiting.
“There’s someone pokin’ around. A woman. Locals say she’s the police.” He stretched out the word so that it sounded like poe-lease.
Now that was interesting. He turned to face the speaker, surprised to discover the middle man had finally spoken up. He inhaled, testing the air. Beer. This man drank beer earlier, but was not inebriated, unlike the other two. “What did you learn?”
“She’s askin’ questions ’bout a group of people, including a former Special Forces soldier. Big guy. With a blond wife. And a son.”
“Go on.”
“She saw the sheriff earlier.”
“Thibodeaux?”
“Yeah. And she’s out drivin’ around the bayous right now.”
“Why is she looking for them?
“Don’t know. But I figure there might be a warrant involved. She’s US Marshals Service.”
Weylin smiled though his expression never changed. Deputy US Marshal DJ Collier. Had to be her. Now she was prey worthy of pursuit. What a gift and it wasn’t even his birthday. He smiled, ignoring the three men who backed even further away.
ANTOINE HAD followed the stench of the boat, and the humans in it, until it faded on the quickening breeze. The fog rolling in danced and swirled, creating ghostly light and shadows. He knew the general area to hunt now, but he would come back with the others before penetrating any outer defenses. He was a solitary hunter, not a trained soldier as they were. He padded on silent feet through the bayou, headed back to his home territory.
When he came to the road that paralleled the canal, he paused in front of the tree line, nose raised to sample the night air. Lights swept across him and he darted deeper into the undergrowth.
DJ CAUGHT sight of the sun sinking in the west. She’d wasted two days and a tank of gas while driving the back roads. That sign teasing her about Blue Moon Bayou turned out to be a dead end. Literally. She’d passed numerous driveways—or at least cut trails wide enough for a car to get down and had followed a few to what the locals called fish camps. Shacks, ramshackle cabins, and dilapidated houseboats dotted the waterways, as she’d discovered.
She’d given up and turned off her GPS. It was worthless. For all she knew, she was on the wrong side of the bayou to find the Fontaine place. She was beginning to think that Blue Moon Bayou didn’t exist. Fuming about the wasted time, she glanced at the rear-view mirror when a light flickered, catching her attention. Out of an abundance of caution, she whipped her rental into the next drive without touching her brakes so there’d be no beacon of red lights.
After some cautious maneuvering, she pulled the car around so she was facing the road, in case she needed to make a fast getaway. After five minutes, an old truck rattled by. Laughing at herself for being so nervous, she still gave the vehicle another five minutes lead time before she eased back to the road and looked both ways. Nothing.
With no real directions to the Fontaine’s place, DJ could wander out here all night. Frustrated, she made up her mind. She’d search again tomorrow, hopefully with help from Sheriff Thibodeaux. For now, it was time to head back to civilization. She turned left onto the dark asphalt as ghostly veils of fog and mist rolled across the road. Great. That’s all she needed.
With the window down, DJ drove slowly in an attempt to miss the deeper potholes and to stay in the middle of the road. She hoped any locals driving the road would be smart enough to have their lights on, though hers bounced back at her, reflected by the mist. A dark shape flickered in her headlights and she slowed down even more. It was an animal—something large. Did bears inhabit Louisiana? Or—DJ gulped, shutting off that thought. The hair rose on her arms as an eerie howl echoed through the night. Wolf. She hit the button to roll up her window and goosed the accelerator. She wanted nothing more than to get back to New Orleans and her hotel room.
She barreled past the spot where she thought she’d seen the wolf enter the woods, fingers white from gripping the steering wheel. A mile further on, she slowed after almost losing control when a front wheel bounced across a deep hole.
“Idiot.” The chide did nothing to slow her racing heart. Why should a wolf freak her out so much? That whole city girl thing notwithstanding, she was armed. With a big-ass 9mm Glock pistol. Loaded with a fifteen-shot magazine. She could take down a wolf with it. Even so, she was inordinately happy to break into clear air with the lights of a town shimmering on the horizon. She gunned the car and headed away from whatever waited for her back in the swamps.
She’d face it tomorrow. Yeah, that was a good plan.
STARTLED INTO shifting, Antoine stood at the side of the road watching the taillights of the car disappear behind the thick veil of mist. Even in human form, his nose could filter the odors left behind, focusing on that illusive scent that tightened his balls and left him with a raging hard-on. Woman. And not just any woman. The woman. He’d caught her scent before, elusive and teasing. Now his nose was full of her. He would find her again. He would hunt her down. And then he would figure out why.
He called to his wolf, changing back to animal form. The wolf wanted to hunt her, to follow the car even if it meant entering the domain of humans. The man squelched the urge. He was a patient hunter and the time would come when he could concentrate on finding her. Now, though, he had other, more pressing concerns. His family was threatened. He needed to report to Mac and the others so they could hunt as a pack.
They were Wolves. And Wolves lived for the hunt.