Chapter 5 #2
Yeah, he was. Close to 240 pounds, most of it muscle and bone.
And right now, he wasn’t supporting himself.
His damn knees kept folding like wet origami.
Which meant the bulk of his weight was on the wolf woman who was handling him as if he were a ninety-pound weakling.
That didn’t make sense, but then nothing did right then.
He thought he smelled hybrid, but that couldn’t be right.
She was obviously a shifter—had to be—but she wasn’t in wolf face now.
As a human, she shouldn’t be able to manage him so easily.
Then the older woman stumbled. Tripped over something in the hall, and her support was gone. He tried to help. If his legs didn’t work, then he sure as hell could use his hands.
No go. There was nothing to grip and nowhere to go but down. Except he didn’t. All of his weight was on the wolf woman and she kept moving him steadily toward the stairs.
That was scary strong.
“Set me down,” he huffed. “I’m going…to crush you.”
“Climb the stairs,” she ordered.
She wasn’t going to give up, and he didn’t have the brainpower to figure it out. “Call. Cops.” Or maybe…“The Griz.”
She shot him a hard look. “Climb!” There was command in her voice, an authority that would not be disobeyed, and he felt a surge of strength in his body as he rallied. But he wasn’t going up the stairs. He needed out of here. Back to safety.
His head swam. “No. Call the Griz.”
“It’s not like I have their number on speed dial.”
She paused and leaned him against the wall. She wasn’t even breathless, and that should tell him something. Something important, but he couldn’t hold on to it. He was too busy holding on to the wall.
“I would love to call the Griz and have them pick you up, but they can’t come here and you’re in no shape to go to them.”
“Put me in a cab.”
She nodded. “That would work, but I need your help. I want you to stop the person responsible for the Detroit Flu. And you can’t do that if you’re laid up in the back of Griz Hardware.”
The Griz home base used to be an Ace Hardware store, so the nickname had some merit. He still didn’t like it.
“Who’s responsible?”
“Raoul Wolf.”
He grimaced. “Nanook was right. It is the wolves.”
“Not the wolves. One wolf. Raoul.”
“Proof.”
She threw up her hands. “If I had the proof, I wouldn’t need you, now would I?”
He dropped his head back against the wall. The clunk added to a headache he hadn’t even noticed before. “What can I do?”
“Arrest Raoul before the war starts.”
He frowned. “What war?”
“Wolves against bears. You’re going to die, then we’re all screwed.”
He snorted. “Bring it on, wolf. We’ll see who gets bloody.”
She stepped backward to lean against the stair railing, her eyes infinitely sad. “I thought you were different,” she said quietly.
Meanwhile, the older woman snorted. “Told you. I don’t know why you’re messing with him. Only chance is with the Griz women.”
“They’re all snobby bitches who won’t lift a finger against their men.”
Ryan frowned. Protecting your man was a good thing. Man, woman, holding together against the storm. But his mind was churning on her earlier statement. “Different than who? How do you know me?” He straightened as much as he could against the wall. “Who the hell are you?”
“Don’t tell him!” the older woman huffed. “Let’s put him in a cab and send him away.”
“I need him!” the wolf woman responded. “He’s the only shifter cop in Detroit. Anybody else is going to require proof against Raoul.”
He narrowed his eyes, really focused on her face.
His memories were foggy, but he was able to put the pieces together.
She was a wolf-shifter. She was high enough in the werewolf hierarchy to know who was responsible for what.
And since he made it his mission to know his adversary, he ran through the wolf family tree to find a woman.
Someone who hid in the background but was—
“You’re Frankie, the bastard daughter.” How the hell had he missed that before?
He’d only met her once, but she’d stuck out.
She’d been the driving force behind a new community center in the heart of werewolf territory.
She’d lobbied the city, raised money for it from all over the state, and put together a design with careful forethought.
He’d met the staff and had been impressed by their qualifications, but none had held a candle to the quiet efficiency of Francesca Wolf.
She was charming, beautiful, organized, and determined.
All qualities he admired. When he saw her at the ribbon-cutting ceremony, he’d been struck with a physical need to be with her.
He’d planned to ask her out right then and there, but he hadn’t had the opportunity during the festivities.
He’d been willing to break normal shifter lines and date a werewolf even though he was a bear.
But that was also the day his work problems in the robbery department began.
Before long, he had too many of his own issues to deal with to think of adding romantic entanglements on top.
“I’m not a bastard,” she stated with force.
Touchy subject? The rumor mill said she’d never shifted and therefore had to be a bastard. Since Emory had never contradicted the rumor, the idea stuck. Well, Ryan now could say with certainty that Frankie was no shifter slouch. Anyone who could support his body weight had to be a full shifter.
“And that doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice tight with anger. “Do you want to stop the Detroit Flu or not?”
That was an easy answer. “I do.”
“So, arrest Raoul.”
“On what grounds?”
“I don’t care. Make something up. Whatever it takes, just get him off the streets for a few days.”
He arched his brow. “And then what?”
“And then I’ll get the proof you need to lock him up forever. He’s the cause of the Detroit Flu. I swear it.” Then when he didn’t say anything, she pushed it further. “That’s why I was in the sewer. I was getting proof, but then you got shot and I had to save your ass.”
He stared at her, fury boiling up. Detroit was in crisis. There had been at least a dozen deaths, a ton more injuries, and the National Guard surrounded the city to keep it in quarantine. The entire city had been brought to its knees by this poison. And why? For a fucking wolf power play.
He didn’t know if Raoul had indeed poisoned the city or if it had been werewolves working in concert.
Didn’t matter. As far as he was concerned, the whole pack was responsible.
That’s how shifters worked. The pack took responsibility for every member’s actions.
And that Frankie here would use a citywide crisis to make a play for power within the werewolf ranks made him sick to his stomach.
But that was wolves for you. The Borgias had nothing on the machinations inside a werewolf pack. He straightened to his full height. At least the dizziness was over. He felt stronger now.
“Sure, I’ll help you. Tell me where Raoul is.” It wasn’t a lie. He absolutely intended to arrest Raoul, her, and any other werewolf he could charge.
She grimaced. “I don’t know.”
Of course not. “Get me a phone. I’ll call it in anyway.”
She blew out her breath. “You need to do it. He’s a werewolf. He’s too dangerous for normal people.”
Plus, over half the force was out puking up their guts from the Detroit Flu. “I’m hardly in a fit state here.” He sagged against the wall for effect, then realized that he really did appreciate the extra support.
She winced. “That’s why I brought you here. So you can rest in privacy. I need to explain things to you. And you need to tell the Griz not to go to war yet.” She sighed. “And not get caught alone. The wolves are going to attack you.”
That was a lot of information coming at him fast, but he got the gist of it, especially since he remembered hearing some of it when they were in the sewer.
“We already know you’re responsible,” he said.
“And we figured any pack insane enough to poison a city was going to be crazy enough to attack the Griz for exposing you.” He paused.
“So get me a damned phone and I’ll take care of Raoul for you.
” What he was going to do was get the Griz to come take this woman and this house by force.
And then, when he wasn’t dead on his feet, he could arrest the whole pack for their idiocy and watch them get prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
“Ah hell,” the older woman interrupted. She’d been hanging back, letting him and Frankie have their say, but now she was looking through a crack in the heavy curtains beside the front door. “It’s too late. We got wolves already here.”
Frankie jolted. “What? Who?”
“Like I know one dog from the other? I just know that walk and that car.”
Frankie quickly peered through another break in the curtains. “That’s Delphine, Raoul’s woman, and she’s come to bring you in.” Her expression turned anguished. “Hazel, you have to get out of here. They know you’re my friend. They know—”
“They know jack shit. Now get him upstairs. I’ll deal with Miss Fancy Pants.”