Retribution (Moonstruck Genesis #4)

Chapter 6

NATE SURFACED and gave the thumbs down sign. Mac glanced at Sean and Lightfoot as the Marine swam back to the bank. “Ideas?”

“Two vehicles. One T-boned the other. Could have been just a regular accident.” Sean shrugged. “But there wasn’t any scanner traffic from the locals.”

Lightfoot studied the surrounding area, turning to stare at the dirt road where one vehicle had been waiting—for quite some time. “Two of them. Both smoked. They were here waiting for whoever was in the second vehicle.”

“We have to be close to whatever they’re trying to hide out here.”

Mac reached down, offering a hand to Nate as the other man climbed out of the canal. “Two vehicles,” Nate affirmed. One’s a sedan. What’s left of it, anyway. Guessing it was probably a rental.”

“What about the truck?” Sean was hunkered down on his heels looking at the tire marks in the soft dirt.

“No tag. Vin number filed off.” At questioning looks from the others, Nate added, “I found the dash. If it had been me, I’d put the explosive charge in the front grill. But this one was likely set on a timer or a deadman’s switch.” He glanced at Sean, the team’s explosives expert for confirmation.

Sean nodded, his eyes covering the surface of the water, noting the sheen of fuel coating it. “If they wanted to get out, yeah. Either of those. I’d go with the switch. Hit the car, shove it into the water, get the hell out and set off the charge.”

Mac glanced between the two Wolves. “Any idea who was in the sedan? And survival chances?”

“Slim to none,” Nate answered. “But no body in the car.”

“It depends.” Sean glanced at the Marine. “If the window was down so they could swim out and there was enough time to get away from the concussion, then maybe.”

Mac rubbed the palm of his hand over his mostly-bald head. While some of the others had grown out their cuts, he adhered to his military roots and shaved his down. “Black Root? Drug cartel? How can we tell?”

Nate watched the sluggish current in the canal for almost a minute. “Smugglers seem to stay away from this area. I suspect the Fontaines and Dumonts have something to do with that.” A dry, deprecating chuckle rumbled in his chest. “I don’t envy Rudy. His in-laws scare the bejeezus out of me.” His expression sobered. “I’d say it’s our old nemesis.”

“They’re stupid or arrogant,” Lightfoot said.

Mac stared at the men he trusted most in the world, each one in turn. “Why? Are they trying to draw us out? Do they even know we’re here? That explosion was big enough to be heard in the nearest town.” He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jungle fatigue pants. “Why didn’t someone come to investigate?”

Lightfoot’s eyes narrowed as he considered the question. “I would think with a sheriff as dedicated as Troy Thibodeaux, he’d at least send a car out to check.”

“Unless he’s in Black Root’s pocket.” Nate stated the obvious in a flat voice. He, more than any of them, had reason to hate the corporation that had sentenced them all to life on the run. They’d forced him into a change he hadn’t been born to, going from man to wolf with no way to change back until he met his mate, Jacey.

Sean raised a hand. “Ah…hate to be the dissenter here, but who’s to say Thibodeaux didn’t send someone? We heard the boom last night and started looking. Took us until now to find the scene.”

Lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, Nate weighed in. “Boomer has a point, Mac. The swamp has a way of hiding things.”

“The sheriff’s loyalty is a question for Isabelle and Rudy to answer. Right now, I want to know who was in that sedan.” Mac pivoted and headed downstream. “Maybe we can pick up a trail. Or a body. Not much of a current, but enough to carry it downstream.”

Nate stripped out of his clothes, bundled them up and passed them to Sean. “On it, boss.” He changed and nose to ground, began to quarter the area.

SHE RAN, ignoring the pricks and pain in her feet. Escaping through the swamp barefooted was probably the stupidest thing she’d ever done, but since she didn’t remember much before awakening snagged in that branch in the canal, she had no frame of reference.

Something howled and she almost face-planted. Slapping her hands against a fallen tree trunk, she winced at the scrape of rough bark against them. She glanced over her shoulder. A silver and brown shape slipped through the foliage behind her on her left. Was that a wolf?

“Pleasepleaseplease be a big dog,” she muttered. Jogging with more caution, she veered to the right. Within moments, trees and bushes pressed around her and she slowed to a walk, pushing branches out of the way. The animal trailing her showed up on her right so she angled back to the left.

After walking several minutes, she discovered a game trail. She still had to duck under branches, but the going was easier. She followed it until it intersected with a larger trail—one that could be wide enough for a vehicle. What were they called? She searched her battered brain. ATV. All-Terrain Vehicle. Like a go-kart on steroids.

She uttered a frustrated argh . Why could she remember stuff like that, but her name and who and what she was remained hidden in the Swiss cheese holes of her memory? The dog-wolf appeared a few yards away. Oh, yeah. That was so not a dog. Wolf. Definitely. Did wolves live in Louisiana? And more important, did wolves eat people?

Her breath caught in her chest. Was that a chuckle? She stared at the animal, recognized the feral intelligence in its eyes. She heard what was definitely a laugh—a deep sexy laugh that twisted her insides—only this time in her mind. She’d just turned the corner and arrived in Crazy Town.

The wolf edged closer. She backed away, headed toward the right along the wider trail. Tongue lolling from the side of its mouth, the damn animal trotted closer. With a scream, she turned and fled. Running hard, her side twinged and she had to breathe around the stitch. She could all but feel the hot breath of the wolf following her. She glanced back but saw nothing. The animal had disappeared. She slowed to a jog then finally a walk, inhaling gulps of air.

The path came to a dead end. A wooden cabin squatted in the middle of a small clearing. Off to the side, a rickety dock extended into the bayou like a middle finger offering the world the bird. That’s exactly how she felt. Maybe whoever lived here would help. She trudged to the door and knocked. Nothing. Tears prickled the backs of her eyelids and she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. She wasn’t the type to cry. Right? Any woman tough enough to carry a gun didn’t cry, even if she couldn’t remember how to shoot said gun. Not that she still had it. She’d left it behind on the banks of the canal.

The door opened so suddenly she almost fell through it. She stifled a scream as she recognized the man standing there.

“You!”

“Me, ma chère .”

Her gaze skittered over him and he fought the smile at her look of relief to discover he wore tattered jeans. Her eyes lingered on his bare feet, a fact he found intriguing. When she raised her gaze to meet his, distrust flared, sending shards of burnt coffee into her scent.

“Come in before you fall down, doux bébé .” He stepped back but made no move to touch her. “You can shower. Change. I fix you food. Coffee. You like coffee, yeah? I fix it special. Café au lait with a little sweet. Just like you.”

She laughed at that but didn’t like the hysterical edge to the sound. “Don’t guess I really have a choice, do I?”

“No, chère . You don’t. But I promise. You will be safe. I would never hurt you.”

NATE PAUSED, nose to ground, one paw lifted as Sean walked up beside him. The man bent over and snagged the plastic pouch bearing the logo of a national car rental company that was caught in the weeds.

“Nice work, Nate. Any human sign?”

He sneezed and shook his head. Sniffing the air, he continued on for several feet. A tributary joined the main canal and the current swirled, forming little eddies. He continued on downstream, but stopped when Sean swore and yelled for Mac.

“Holy crap, boss. What the hell are we gonna do now?” Sean held the rental car paperwork out for Mac to read. The paper was a little soggy, but the printout was clear.

Debra Jane Collier.

“Why is that name familiar?” Mac glanced at Sean, but it was Lightfoot, looking over their shoulders, who answered.

“As in Deputy US Marshal Collier?”

Sean continued reading, found the line where the driver’s employment was listed. “Damn. One and the same. Now we know what DJ stands for.”

Mac cussed under his breath. “What the hell is she doing back here?”

Sean shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, boss. But according to this, she was in that car.”

“Did she die in that car?”

A growl from Nate pulled their attention to him. The ruff bristled on the wolf’s neck and he stared into the woods behind them. Without a glance back, he padded into the trees. The three men followed.

Three miles further on, intersecting the canal again, they found the first body—dressed in black fatigues and snagged in an old cypress knee. Sean waded out to grab it. Hauling it to shore, Mac and Lightfoot lifted the man out of the water. His head lolled at an unnatural angle.

“Gator?” Mac doubted that was the cause, but he sort of hoped.

“Someone broke his neck.”

“The marshal?”

“Doubtful.”

Nate yowled and the three men turned to follow his progress. He was standing point on the bank staring out at the water. Another body floated face down. Male. The wolf splashed out a couple of steps, as if to retrieve the body.

“Leave ’im, Nate.” At Mac’s command, the wolf returned to shore. “We don’t want to be explaining bodies.” With a shove, he sent the first body tumbling into the water. The desultory current caught it and both cadavers bobbed away.

Back on dry land, Nate shook, sending water drops flying. Nose to ground, he continued tracking while the three men followed at an easy jog. Half a mile further down, they discovered the third body, in the same condition as the first two. During their hike, the wind had shifted. Nate turned his face into it. His ears perked forward and he headed back the way they’d just come but following the edge of the waterway.

When Nate stopped and stared across to the other side, the men all swore at the boat lodged in a trap of cypress knees.

“That explains the men.” Mac was resigned to the rest of the day going downhill.

“Why were they out here?” At Mac’s sharp look, Sean held up his hands. “Rhetorical question, boss.” He looked around. “How close are we to the area Antoine led us the other night? I fuckin’ hate all this green water.”

“Hard to find landmarks, but I’d guess maybe not too far. This just gets fucking curiouser and curiouser.” Mac scrubbed his hand over his head. “We need to get to the other side.”

Sean grumbled under his breath. “Paper, rock, scissors to see who swims for that boat?”

Before anyone could reply, Nate launched into the water and dog-paddled across the bayou. He snagged a rope in his teeth and pulled the boat back across. When he shook the water out of his fur this time, he made sure the three men were all standing close enough to get soaked. With good-natured curses, they used their shirts to wipe their faces while Nate changed back to human form and dressed. Lightfoot checked the boat while they waited.

“No blood.” He pursed his lips as he considered. “Nate, what would a SEAL do?”

He snorted. “I was Marine Force Recon, not a pansy-ass SEAL.” He shoved his feet into his boots. “A Marine would swim up underwater and take them out. Break their necks under the surface and let the current take care of the rest.”

Lightfoot tilted his head then nodded. “Agreed. But why kill them?”

“And that’s the question.” Mac stepped into the boat, moving to the back to check the engine. It fired up with the first push of the starter button.

The others climbed in and settled on the seats. Minutes later, they were on the opposite bank. They spent a few moments longer wiping down the surfaces of the boat and then capsized it, making sure it wasn’t so full of water that it wouldn’t float further downstream.

Sean jerked his head up, nostrils flaring. “Shit. I have her scent now.”