Chapter 3
3
JOHNNY
When Rob Wolf told me he wanted me to be an enforcer, I didn’t expect much. A job or two here and there. Rogue shifters aren’t that common. He needed me on the family ranch. Horses didn’t feed themselves. Fences didn’t fix themselves, either. A place the size of Wolf Ranch needed full time tending by me and a few others. Clint, Wes, Joe, Colton, and even Rob himself.
But I was now on my second enforcer job within a week.
This time, solo.
It seemed Clint had given me a thumbs up to Rob, and my alpha was pleased because of it.
I slowed my truck in the circle driveway and stared up at the big-ass ranch house. This place made Wolf Ranch look like a cabin on a postage stamp sized property.
Mitch Chapman’s Montana place was massive. Tens of thousands of pristine, picturesque acres. Split log fences lining the entire property for miles along the road from town. Outbuildings that all matched, like a high-maintenance woman whose shirt, shoes, and lipstick were all color coordinated.
And the house.
“Fuck me,” I muttered, turning down my radio. The catchy country song was distracting me from my study.
The place was log and river rock. Huge windows. It had wings left and right. It was that massive. It was understated, which was a little laughable. Screamed an architectural magazine cover. It also screamed money.
A shit ton of it. All of this had to be maintained by a slew of people. Shifters, most likely, since Chapman was one. It was the perfect place to run on a full moon, even better than Wolf Ranch. But it would be easier for Chapman to hide his shifter crimes from a crew of clueless humans. That could work for me.
But Chapman was loaded. A billionaire. He could buy anyone.
He’d been investigated by the Council, and enough evidence was found for him to be brought in for a trial. Evidence of sick shit. The report they gave me said he was suspected of trafficking shifter females who applied for jobs at his various companies around the world. Lured them from their packs with the promise of work as anything from an office manager to accountant to vice president, but then they were imprisoned and sold off on the black market as breeders. One had escaped and shared what had happened to her, and that had been the beginning of the extensive investigation. Now he’d be tried, and if found guilty would die for his crimes. If Mitch Chapman could be found.
I was sent to Running Waters Ranch because Chapman had gone into hiding. He hadn’t been seen in two weeks. Enforcers around the country were being sent to his various homes and businesses to find him. I was the closest enforcer to this ranch in Montana, so this was my search area.
If found, we were required to bring him before the Council.
Human law enforcement did things differently. Chapman would be arrested, maybe taken to human trial, but his money would probably get him off. If not, it would be easy for a shifter to break out of prison, which we couldn’t allow.
If guilty–which this far in the process, he most likely was–he would die.
I parked. Climbed out of my truck and put on my cowboy hat. Even though I wasn’t supposed to kill the guy, I didn’t trust him. Still, I left the gun with silver bullets under the seat for now. I needed to scope out the situation before I walked in cocked and loaded. I needed to figure out who was on property and whether they’d give me trouble. Whether there were innocents around–human or shifter. I wanted to get a feel for the layout of the property.
I had an easy cover–as a member of the closest neighboring pack, my alpha had sent me to make contact and invite him to visit for a full moon run this month. It was reasonable, and if he wasn’t such a slimy, dangerous shit, we’d enjoy having him.
Beyond the house, the land sloped down into a shallow valley where a creek meandered as far as I could see from left to right. Thick cottonwoods edged the water creating a stripe of green. Beyond that, waving grass blew across an untouched prairie.
It was fucking gorgeous.
I went up the walk and rang the doorbell. Waited. Right before I was about to give up and circle the house, the huge door swung open.
A woman stood on the doorstep, offering me a soft smile. “Hello.”
Holy shit, talk about fucking gorgeous. Dark hair, almost black, cascaded down her back. Her eyes were equally dark, wide set, and framed with thick lashes. She had high cheekbones, a pert nose and… holy hell, fu ll lips that would look amazing wrapped around my dick.
She was small, a half foot shorter than me, but not breakable. Through her simple jeans and white v-neck t-shirt, I couldn’t miss the meat on her bones, curves I could grip and hold onto. She was… perfect.
When I didn’t say anything, only stared, she cocked her head to the side and added, “Can I help you?”
I un-swallowed my tongue and yanked off my cowboy hat, held it against my chest. “Hey there. I’m here to see Mitch Chapman.”
For a moment, her eyes widened. “I’m sorry, he’s not here.”
I didn’t doubt her. Every expression seemed to flit across her face. Surprise, concern, definitely a hint of interest.
“Oh. Do you know when he’ll be back?”
She shook her head.
Chapman was in his fifties. Could she be his daughter? There was no mention of one in his file. No mate either. Girlfriend? The idea made me want to track the bastard down and kill him for that alone. Whoa, that was a new one, this… aggression. Why was I drawn to this shifter?
I leaned my forearm against the doorframe to get a little closer to her.
She didn’t step back. Her gaze traced the muscles in my arm and came back to my face with her eyes slightly wider and twin spots of color on her cheeks.
I inhaled deeply and learned two things at once. She wasn’t a shifter. She was human. And, considering my body’s instantaneous reaction to her scent–this beautiful human was my mate.