Chapter 15
Fifteen
Neil
The sun is beginning to peek over the horizon as we pull out of the trailer park, me behind the wheel of Danny’s truck and Raquel following in her own car.
Before we left, Raquel gathered up the money from the coffee can, and I rifled through Danny’s wallet—gruesome, but pragmatic.
He’s dead, he doesn’t need it—but I knew the total wouldn’t get us very far.
I’m not sure where our final destination is except for far away from Vegas, but we’re going to need more funds to make our escape possible.
Not only that, we need the money fast, and none of my regular methods of getting cash are going to work.
Doyle almost certainly has his goons looking for us, and the human cops might not be far behind when Danny’s body is discovered.
They’ll probably chalk his death up to an animal attack like they did my dad’s, but that’s not guaranteed.
Especially if Doyle has people in the Las Vegas Police Department, which is more probable than not.
So, with very few options, I stole Danny’s truck. Technically. The truck is bigger, more comfortable, and about a decade newer with at least a hundred thousand fewer miles on it than Raquel’s hatchback and, just like his wallet, Danny doesn’t need it anymore.
But we do.
We desperately need money, and now that we have the option of Danny’s truck as an alternate method of transportation, I figured the easiest way to get some cash would be to sell the hatchback for scrap.
The independent alpha my mom knew owns a junkyard not too far outside the city limits.
Though I haven’t kept in touch, he’s helped me out a couple times in the past, and he’s normally willing to pay half decent money for junk cars.
It’s not a foolproof plan for sure, but it’s the best one I’ve got.
Wolfie is staying out of sight by lying across the front bench seat with his head resting in my lap.
His eyes drift closed as soon as we hit the main road and his breaths slow to a steady, comforting rhythm.
I have to admit, I’m almost jealous. At this point I’ve been awake for nearly twenty-four hours and a headache pounds behind my eyes.
I’m practically counting down the seconds until my head can meet a pillow.
I wouldn’t turn down a long, hot shower either. A sink bath just isn’t the same.
One problem at a time, Neil…
The stoplight ahead turns red, and I slow the truck to a stop, closing my eyes and leaning my head back for a few seconds while I wait for the light to cycle.
A horn blares, startling me out of my poorly timed cat nap, and I slam on the gas, shooting through the intersection before registering that the light is still glowing red.
There’s no cross-traffic so I avoid a collision, but there’s a flash of light behind me.
A red-light camera. Shit.
Well, the damage is done and there’s nothing I can do about it now. I’ll just have to hope Danny’s body goes undiscovered long enough for us to be well away from here by the time anyone realizes his truck is missing and starts looking into things like traffic cameras.
Wolfie raises his head at my muttered curse, and I run my hand over his back. “It’s fine. I just need to be more careful.” I chuckle to myself. “Or to get some sleep.”
Wolfie chuffs, nuzzling his face against my thigh, and I can’t help but feel immensely grateful for his steady, solid presence. I love Raquel like a sister, and she’s managed to hold herself together for the most part, but she’s not exactly a calming influence.
“As soon as we take care of getting rid of the hatchback, the next order of business is going to be that collar,” I say, keeping my attention on the road in front of me as I gently stroke one of Wolfie’s ears.
“After that… well, I don’t know what we’re going to do.
We obviously can’t stay in Vegas, and I don’t have any connections anywhere else, either in the shifter world or the human one. Neither does Raquel.”
Wolfie lets out a soft whine, and I glance down to find him staring up at me.
“I’m hoping that means you might know someplace we can go,” I say, half talking to myself.
“Based on how Doyle talked about you, I don’t think you’re from Vegas.
Do you have a pack? A safe place for us?
I know Raquel’s human, but she’s my best friend, my family.
I can’t leave her behind, so wherever we end up has to be safe for her too.
If that’s not with other shifters then… I don’t know.
” I blow out a breath and blink a few times to clear my dry eyes.
“I’m babbling. Sorry. I really do need to sleep for a few hours. ”
He nudges me with his nose and whines again.
I smile softly. “I wish communication wasn’t so one-way at the moment. I’d love to know what you’re thinking.”
Wolfie sighs, resting his head in my lap, and I return my full attention to driving, glancing in the rearview mirror every now and then to make sure Raquel is keeping up.
Twenty minutes or so outside the city limits, I make a right turn onto a rutted gravel driveway, then follow it for nearly two miles until it dead-ends at the high fence surrounding the junkyard.
I pull to a stop by the rusty intercom box just outside the gate and push the call button.
“Yeah?” asks a deep voice a few seconds later.
“Hey, Phil, it’s Neil.” I pause. “Cahill.”
There’s a long silence and then, “Maggie’s kid?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I know it’s been a while, but I’ve got a car here, and I’m hoping to get some cash for it.”
Phil doesn’t respond, but the light over the gate turns green and the gate begins to slide open. Not the warmest welcome for sure, but better than ignoring me and leaving me out here. He’s never been the most talkative guy, anyway.
Phil is what is officially called an “unaffiliated” alpha. Unofficially, that means he’s a lone wolf, not part of any pack and he doesn’t report to anyone. He keeps to himself for the most part, and he has no connection to Doyle or the Vegas pack.
Probably. Either way, we’re not going to be here long enough for him to call anyone in. I hope.
I put the truck in gear and drive past the gate, Raquel close behind.
It’s been at least a couple years since I’ve been here, but the office is easy to find.
I simply follow the path between the dilapidated vehicles until it reaches a fork.
The single-story building is to the right, window AC unit chugging away and dripping condensation down the bland exterior.
Now that the sun’s fully up, the day’s heat hits me as I jump out of the truck onto the sandy ground.
I eye the office door for a moment before gesturing for Wolfie to follow.
Phil will immediately know what he is, but I can’t leave my mate in a hot truck—people who leave animals in hot cars deserve a special place in hell.
Not even having the windows down would prevent the temperature inside the vehicle from quickly reaching deadly levels.
Raquel pulls in beside the truck, turns her car off, and gets out, moving to stand walk next to me as we approach the office. The door swings open before we get there and Phil stands in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.
As an alpha, Phil is a large man, and even in his mid-forties, his body is heavy with muscle.
His shaggy brown hair is tied back in a messy ponytail and he’s wearing dusty coveralls.
He gives me a once over, shrewd brown eyes pausing on my face before he moves his attention to my two companions.
His brows rise as he takes in Wolfie standing at my side and shoot up like a rocket as his gaze slides to Raquel.
He glowers at me. “What are you playing at, kid? You trying to get me in trouble?”
“No, of course not,” I say quickly, angling myself slightly in front of Raquel. “It’s a long story, but she knows. And it’s fine.”
Phil’s brows jump high enough to nearly disappear into his hairline. “She knows? A human?” He ambles past the doorway and steps closer, looming over me, eyes flashing with irritation. “What the hell has gotten into you? I know Maggie raised you to be smarter than that.”
I hold my hands up by my chest and open my mouth, but Wolfie steps in front of me before I can speak, growling and flashing his teeth. The older shifter’s attention shifts to the wolf and he narrows his eyes, holding my mate’s gaze in an obvious display of dominance.
“Who the hell is this?” He snarls and shows his own teeth, signs of his wolf flickering in his eyes. “Back off, pup.”
Wolfie lowers his head, growl rising in volume as the hair on his back begins to rise. Not good. The last thing this situation needs is some kind of alpha shifter show down.
“Shhh,” I say to Wolfie, gently stroking his head.
“He’s not trying to hurt me, right?” I aim the last word at Phil and he grunts, recrossing his arms over his chest. “Nobody’s challenging anybody’s dominance or whatever you alphas get all pissy about.
The bond is just really new, and Wolfie here is a little overprotective. ”
Phil chuckles, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Wolfie?”
“Like I said, it’s a long story, but this big guy here is my fated mate.” Phil sends another pointed look at Raquel, and I sigh. “She knows about that too. It’s cool.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for that,” he replies, shaking his head. One side of his mouth quirks upward and he pats me on the shoulder. “But congratulations on the fated mate part.”
“Thanks,” I say, warmth filling my chest.
He shakes his head again, then points to the hatchback. “This what you’re hoping to get rid of?”
“Yeah, how much will you give me for it?”
Touchy-feely time apparently over, he gives me a flat look and ambles over to the vehicle, walking around the outside to assess the condition. Once he’s made a complete circuit, he stops. “I can give you five hundred for it.”
I wince. That’s way less than I expected. “A thousand.”
“It runs,” says Raquel, her voice a little too high, nerves obvious. “That counts for something, right?”
Phil snorts. “Not for much,” he says. “It’s worth more as scrap.” He rubs his chin and studies the car for a few more seconds. “Six hundred.”
“Eight.” My fingers brush against the collar on Wolfie’s neck and Phil’s gaze follows the movement.
“What’s that collar made of?”
“I have no idea. Why?”
He studies my face with narrowed eyes as if assessing me. Or maybe how much he can take me for. “Six fifty for the car, and I’ve got a cutter spreader tool that should be able to get through that collar.”
My brows shoot up. Of course a junkyard would have things that could cut through metal. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.
“Deal,” I say quickly. That’s less money than I wanted—and less than the car is worth even as scrap—but getting the collar off Wolfie is equally important since we’ll be a lot less conspicuous if we aren’t dragging around a giant wolf. Easier to get a hotel room, too.
Phil sticks his hand out to shake on it, then jerks his chin toward a large metal building behind the smaller office. “My tools are in the workshop. Come on.”
The four of us trek toward the workshop and Phil uses the keys on his belt to unlock a hefty padlock at the base of the door.
He opens the latch, then rolls the door up and motions for us to come inside.
The interior is like a gearhead’s wet dream with towering metal tool boxes, a couple hydraulic lifts, and a variety of power tools I can’t identify.
Phil ambles over to one of the metal counters that line the far wall and pulls down one of those tools I don’t know the name of.
It has a wide cylindrical body, a handle, and two hand-sized blades in front that look like scissors on steroids.
He plugs the cord into a socket on the wall and waits for us to get closer.
“That thing’s safe, right?” I ask, eyeballing the blades. “It’s not going to hurt him?”
“It’s the smallest one I have,” he says. When I don’t respond, he rolls his eyes. “Do you want the collar off or not?”
“Yes. Of course.” I blow out a breath, then motion Wolfie forward.
I’m not sure what my face is doing, but Phil loses some of his gruff attitude and pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll be careful.”
Wolfie meets my gaze, some combination of hope and anticipation in his eyes. However long that collar’s been on him, he has to be anxious to get it off.
I reach out and run my hand over his fur. “It’s okay.”
The wolf stares at me for a beat, then dips his chin and moves to stand within reach the tool.
Phil slides the flatter section at the tip of the blades between the collar and Wolfie’s fur.
He presses a button and the machine whirs to life.
The blades slowly close, and Phil guides the blades further under the collar until they compress the edge of the collar, the metal parting with a screeching sound.
Phil has to readjust the blades a couple times, but a minute later, there’s a gap in the metal collar. He grips the edges and pulls, increasing the diameter of the collar enough that, with a little maneuvering, it can be slipped over Wolfie’s head.
As soon as the metal ring is gone, Wolfie returns to my side, sitting down and scratching at his neck.
The fur where the collar sat is thinner, damaged from the friction most likely, but that seems to be the worst of it as far as I can tell.
Physically anyway. Who knows what kind of mental state Wolfie will be in when he’s finally able to shift again.
There’s no doubt his human side is still there, but I’ve also seen what happens when his wolf takes control—his very violent and aggressive wolf—and I’m not sure how much of that feral side of him will remain once he’s in human form.
I’m yanked from my musing when a flat tone sounds from the intercom near the door to the workshop. Somebody’s at the gate, and going by the puzzled frown on Phil’s face, I don’t think he’s expecting anyone.