Retribution (Moonstruck Genesis #4)

Chapter 10

THE THREE black SUVs didn’t stop at the town limits, but everyone knew they were coming before they stopped in front of the Town Marshal’s office. The first one drove slightly past the building and double parked. The second pulled into the parking space clearly marked “Official Vehicles Only.” The third parked in front of the fire station next door. Two men exited the rear doors of the first and third vehicles. They scoped out the street then a man from the trailing vehicle trotted to the middle SUV and opened the front passenger door. One man, wearing black fatigues, emerged and moments later, a second one dressed in a dark suit stepped out of the back seat.

Curious eyes watched from behind shop windows. Those members of the volunteer fire department hanging around the station stepped out onto the concrete apron and stood in a loose group, all of them staring at the strangers. Walt Tarrant, the fire chief, leaned up against building’s brick wall, massive arms folded across his chest. He chewed on a toothpick jammed in the corner of his mouth and his blue eyes missed nothing.

After a couple of minutes, Walt called to the men blocking the station’s driveway. “Yo. No parking zone. Move that heap.”

The closest one offered up his middle finger in reply, before he turned to his buddy and they laughed. Too bad Walt didn’t find it funny. Two of the firefighters disappeared inside the open truck bay. The rumbling growl of a heavy diesel engine soon followed. Moments later, a massive six-by-six all-terrain pumper truck rolled out. The two firefighters inside just sat there. The men in the SUV didn’t seem intimidated.

After the two strangers strolled into the Marshal’s office, Walt ducked into the station and used the land-line to call over to the grocery store. Josiah answered on the first ring.

“You watchin’?” Walt asked without preamble.

“Yup. Already made a call, just as soon as Silas alerted me they’d come to town.” Josiah didn’t sound ruffled.

“Whatta we gonna do?”

“For the moment? Nothing.”

“They who I think they are?”

“Probably.”

“They need to go.” These humans didn’t belong in Blaidd’s Gap. They were trouble but from the attitudes they exhibited, Walt wasn’t expecting a simple outcome.

“Workin’ on that with that call I made.”

“Do I need to go back up Zeb?”

“Made a call ’bout that, too. For now, we wait and watch.”

“Just let us know. Most of the boys are here today. We were gonna do a live burn later.”

A thoughtful silence stretched a bit before Josiah replied. “Might have to change that exercise, Chief. Could be a good day for a car fire.”

“Or three.” Walt hung up. He didn’t like strangers in his town. He was getting too damn old for this shit. As soon as things settled down, Walt fully intended to take his concerns to Josiah, Granny Mae, and Zeb. Strange Wolves in town was one thing, but strange humans? That just pissed him right the hell off.

GERRI CARDIFF, the 9-1-1 dispatcher and assistant town marshal, watched the two men enter from the street. The guy in the suit looked smug despite being overdressed. The second man stank of gunpowder and sweat. She didn’t need to be a Wolf to catch the odors. Her lip curled up as her nose crinkled. The dressed-up man wore way too much aftershave. She wondered if he used obnoxious fragrance to mask his essence or was simply clueless. Didn’t make her no mind which was true. She knew these two were trouble. As they approached her desk, she pasted what her mate called her Clueless face on.

“Well, howdy, there. Y’all look like you might be lost or somethin’. Can I help you?” She even twirled a lock of her hair around one index finger.

The man most obviously in charge offered her a totally fake smile of his own. “I’m looking for the marshal.”

“And?”

The man blinked, a bit taken aback. “And…what?”

“And? What sorta business d’ya have with the marshal? And I sorta need yore name because the marshal? He likes to know who’s come visiting. He’ll be askin’ me when I go tell ’em y’all are here.” She beamed at the two men.

The way the guy stared at her, she could have been speaking Mandarin. Which she could. Along with Farsi, French, and one of these days, Gaelic. Gerri did love her foreign language tapes and had a real talent for picking up dialects. Of course, it was her master’s degree in criminal justice that made her truly suspicious of this group’s arrival in town.

“I’m…Mr. Brown.”

She sat and waited, still giving him clueless face. When he didn’t continue, she pointed to the man who was obviously his bodyguard. “And yore friend?” She beamed again. “Y’all are friends, right? I mean you came in the door together, but then again maybe I’m just jumpin’ to conclusions. The marshal says I do that sometimes. Y’all are together, right? Because if you’re not, I need to be askin’ him—” She pointed at the second man. “The same questions I’m askin’ you. Uh…” She scratched her head then twirled another curl around her finger while she gave the first man big eyes. “Brown, right? Mr. Brown.” She nodded as if she’d just cemented his name in her memory.

When the two men exchanged baffled looks, Gerri almost laughed out loud. “Well?”

“Well what?” Brown snapped.

“Together or separate?”

“Together.”

“So what’s yore name, sweetie?” Gerri wanted to stomp on her own foot when she batted her lashes. Her mate would kill her if he got wind of her antics. Of course, since he was the West Virginia State Trooper assigned to this district, Matt was probably already on his way to town. She knew her people. A large group of armed men was always cause for concern. That they came hard on the heels of a group of Wolves and their families? Too big a coincidence to disregard.

Zeb Bivens stepped out of his office and Gerri bit her tongue to keep from laughing. The man looked as dumb as a stump. “Well, howdy, y’all. Miz Gerri, why didn’t you tell me we had company? Marshal Zebulon Bivens. Most folks call me Zeb. The friendly ones, anyways. The criminals? They mostly call me Marshal Bivens.”

Gerri coughed into her hand to cover her snort of laughter. She grinned back at him, appearing all open and innocent. “I was still ascertainin’ their reasons for stoppin’ by t’day, Marshal Zeb. You jumped the gun.”

“Well, I couldn’t hardly help myself, Miz Gerri. We don’t get visitors ’round these parts very often. I mean there was that trucker who had a problem with his load that one time.”

Nodding sagely, Gerri added. “Shore ’nuff. We was chasin’ chickens all over the county for days.”

When the strangers once again looked at each other, Gerri exchanged her own look with Zeb. Using a bit of back-slapping and glad-handing, Zeb lured them into his office. With them occupied for the moment, she checked the street. A blond woman—the mate of one of the new Wolves in town—slipped into the grocery store just as a pickup truck loaded with the Gryffon boys—all ten of them—pulled up dead even with the SUV parked in front of the office. A close-knit—if extended—family, the Gryffons were more often guests of the two jail cells in the back of the building than not. Moonshiners, bootleggers, brawlers—usually only among themselves—they were a good group to have as backup. She curled her lips beneath her teeth and chuckled. Every one of those boys was loaded for bear.

HANNAH STOOD just inside the front door of Cadogan’s Grocery, Josiah standing next to her. He hadn’t looked happy to see her, obviously expecting Mac or one of the others. He masked his feelings, but not well enough. She picked up on his tension.

“I called Mac. They’re a couple of hours away but heading back.” She continued to watch the scene out on the street. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cadogan. We wanted to be out of here before Black Root caught up to us. We never intended to bring danger to your people.”

“But you are here and under my protection.”

She bristled at that. “We’ve been protecting ourselves for a very long time.”

“You are women. With children.”

Snorting, she cut her eyes. “Fuck you.” Remembering Mac’s admonition to play nice with the locals a little late, she added. “And I mean that in a totally respectful way. I was a soldier. DJ was a Deputy US Marshal. Izzy is a Cajun girl born and bred in the bayous. Jacey and Annie have handled themselves in more than one fire fight. We’ll be just fine.”

“You don’t understand.” He touched her arm to get her attention. When he had it, Josiah continued. “I know what you and the others are capable of. You are mated to strong alpha Wolves. You could be no other way. Strength finds strength. And keeps it. But we take care of our own and while you are here, you are the responsibility of the Blaidd Pack.”

Hannah screwed up her eyes and mouth then scrubbed her face with her fingertips. “This is one of those pack politics things, isn’t it?” She huffed out a breath. “Okay. But I’m giving you notice. We have a place to go, once it’s habitable. That’s where the men are. Working on it. We don’t want to see any of you get hurt because of our troubles.”

Josiah did something only an Alpha would do to a mated woman. He cupped her shoulder with his palm and gave a small squeeze. “These men will never be satisfied. No matter what you do to them, there will always be those who seek to exploit what we are. We won’t let that happen. We’re stronger if we stand together.”

The bell above the door jangled and a huge mountain of a man ambled in. He had a pair of pistols jammed into his belt and carried a sawed-off shotgun in one hand while a stick the size of a round two-by-four rested on his shoulder, held in place by his other ham-sized hand.

“Josiah. Ma’am.” The man dipped his head in a submissive way that startled Hannah. He wore a chambray shirt from which the sleeves had been torn out to leave it sleeveless and was almost white from many washings. His jeans were holey, but clean and his massive feet were jammed into work boots the size of small toboggans.

“Garth, Hannah McIntire. Miz McIntire, Garth Gryffon.”

“Brought the boys with me. Sounds like we might be havin’ a party.”

The front door to the Marshal’s office across the street opened. Josiah and Garth stiffened. A moment later, Flossie’s voice ghosted across the store’s loudspeaker. “Zeb says they’re lookin’ in all the wrong places.”

Hannah took an instinctive step back as Garth gripped his stick tighter, a maniacal grin wreathing his lower face.

“It’s Shake-N-Bake and we’re gonna help.” He closed his eyes briefly then, when he opened them, he winked at her. “Good thing Walt’s planning a live burn t’day.” He pointed out the window.

Four firefighters approached the idling fire truck and set about pulling hose and hooking it up. One fiddled with some dials on the truck’s side while the others stretched out the hose and manned the nozzle.

Walt straightened from the wall. “I toldja there’s no parkin’ here.” His voice boomed, loud enough to be clearly heard over the diesel engine’s roar.

Before the two nearest guards could react, they were hit with a spray of water from the fire hose. Coming out of the nozzle at almost 250 pounds per second, the stream was more than enough to knock them on their asses. The front doors on that vehicle snapped open, but the massive all-terrain truck was in motion. Hannah could only stare in shock as the street erupted.

A group of men, every bit as large as Garth and looking very much like him, bailed from a pickup truck. A pack of Wolves in animal form boiled from between two buildings and entered the fray. Stray shots sent bystanders, including Hannah, scrambling for cover. Garth and Josiah exited—Garth leveling his shotgun, the Alpha in wolf form. Moments later, Flossie appeared at her shoulder.

“Been a long time since the boys had a chance t’throw down and make a ruckus.”

“But…” Hannah turned worried eyes to the other woman. “What happens if someone gets hurt…or killed?”

Flossie smiled, her whole face lighting up. “Well, now. Ain’t that the whole point?”

Hannah opened her mouth to speak, discovered she had no response for that so she snapped her mouth shut and watched. The ruckus lasted not quite ten minutes. Twenty minutes after that, the three vehicles and all of Black Roots’ men were gone. A crew worked to repair windows where glass had been shattered, but half of them dropped their tools when the siren at the Fire Station sounded. Even standing inside the grocery, Hannah could hear the female dispatcher’s voice.

“Auto accident and vehicle fire, unknown on injuries. State Highway 3.” Papers rustled and then the voice continued. “It’ll be about six miles out of town. Callin’ party says you can’t miss the smoke.”

Flossie patted a stunned Hannah on the arm. “Can I get you a cuppa tea, dear?”