Chapter Nine #11
Rio checked all the exterior cameras again. At the edge of the screen, movement flashed low to the ground just before the van pulled away. If he squinted, he could make out a quick hint of color. Kenai’s sweatshirt, the one with the rooster patch.
Cold clarity swept through him. No time for guilt, no time to stew. He locked the office, jogged down the stairs past the prep line, and walked out the front door. The street was empty, not a single car in sight.
Five minutes passed then headlights whipped around the corner. Three motorcycles roaring toward him. Zeppelin led, Vaughn and Quinn flanking him. An enormous truck, probably Wade’s, trailed close behind. They pulled to the curb, boots crunching on the blacktop as the men approached.
“Where?” Zeppelin asked.
“Out back. Kenai and Kevin walked out together. Ameer was waiting. The security camera caught the whole thing.” Rio’s words sounded flat, even to his own ears.
“Show us.” Zeppelin held out a hand. Rio passed over the phone and thumbed open the footage.
The other men moved closer, watching the video. Quinn’s mouth tightened as he watched Kenai jerked off his feet.
Vaughn’s mouth pressed to a tight line. “That van was on the east side earlier tonight, parked outside the hardware store. I smelled wolf all over it.”
Rio gave them a clear rundown, pointing out the alley cameras, and the direction the van had gone. Zeppelin motioned two of his men to split, check the side streets.
Quinn headed toward the curb, already calling someone on his phone, probably Sheriff Owen.
Zeppelin bent closer, his voice pitched low. “We’ll get them.”
Rio nodded, just as determined to bring his mate home.
Zeppelin vanished into the shadows. Within seconds, the street was empty again, except for the faint hoot of an owl in the distance.
Rio walked toward the south side of the lot, cutting between two dumpsters and straight into the alley where the van had been. The scent of wolf still clung to the air.
He moved slowly, making himself read every detail of the ground, hoping to find something that would lead him to Kevin.
He moved toward where the van had stopped in the alley. Tire marks scored the dirt, spinning out. Then nothing.
Chapter Eight
Rio didn’t lose the trail. Not for a second.
Where the tire marks ended, his mind switched to details—the way the dirt had sheared away under the van’s weight, the pattern of gravel kicked aside.
Wolf scent clung to the ground, hot and heavy, layered over everything.
A half-crushed weed, leaking sap. The faintest trace of impala, nearly lost under the wolf stink.
Cold night air helped. It kept every molecule of scent right where it had landed, giving him a fighting chance.
Three others joined him, boots crunching in the dirt. Zeppelin watched Rio’s reading of the ground, eyes narrowed, waiting for the call.
“This way,” Rio called out.
He didn’t look back to see if the others followed. Scent and instinct drew him forward, weaving from wheel tracks to footprints. A different wolf had gotten out at one point, paused in the weeds, then circled around to the passenger side. It made Rio imagine Kenai or Kevin putting up a fight. Good.
They tracked the trail where the van had skidded off the blacktop and onto a dirt road. Rio’s hands curled into fists as he moved. Each step took them farther from town.
No porch lights out here. No neighbors to notice noise.
Even the moon struggled to peek through the pine boughs overhead. Sometimes the road would fade then flash out again where a boulder or a rut had forced the van to careen sideways.
Up ahead, Quinn and two others moved away, picking up the edges of the scent line. They fanned out to cover more ground. One of the pack worked the east side, silent and fast.
Every few minutes, a signal was given. Slow down. Tighten in. They worked seamlessly, scanning as they moved.
The van’s path kept to the dirt road, climbing higher every turn. Rio’s legs burned, but he forced the pace. He would’ve gone all night if it meant closing the distance between him and Kevin.
He spotted a structure through the trees.
A cabin perched at a hairpin bend. Someone had built it from cheap pine logs, putting together a porch that leaned crookedly off to one side. Old paint blistered on the door. Every window was boarded from the inside, but light still seeped through the cracks in the frame.
Wolf scent grew thicker. The air felt heavy with it. Someone inside was pacing, their boots loud against wood. For a second, the only sounds were the tick of insects and the faint hum of power lines.
Every step was tension slowly building. Rio could hear his own breathing. Others, too, a little slower, a little more measured, but still there.
They stopped under the eaves, out of the direct line of sight of the windows.
Zeppelin gave the hand signal to surround. Three others vanished into the trees at the back. Another pack member set off slowly along the east wall, watching his footfalls. Somewhere on the far side of the house, a flash of movement told Rio the team was in position.
Rio steadied himself. His snow leopard pressed close inside him, ready to rip and tear, but Rio kept still. He wanted to think, not just react.
A voice drifted out from inside, low and bored. “Put him in the corner. He moves, break his leg.” A second voice laughed, not bothering to keep it quiet. Why should they? No one else would come out here.
Another voice joined in, sounding annoyed. “That’s the last time I let you pick the location, Jireh. This place smells like dead squirrel and outhouse.” Something thumped, maybe a fist on a table. More laughter.
Then a yell sounded from deeper inside the place.
The laughter died. Every hair on Rio’s arms stood up.
A heavy thud shook the cabin, making the porch rattle. For a second, no one moved.
Zeppelin’s eyes narrowed. He signaled a count with his fingers.
Three. Two. One.
He slammed his boot into the door, blowing it off the hinges. The noise echoed through the woods.
Rio nearly gagged from the smell that hit him as they charged inside. Wolf, sweat, bags of trash to the side of the room.
The first guy, Ameer, had been waiting for a fight. He moved fast, arms already up, but Zeppelin caught him square in the chest and threw him across the room. Ameer crashed into a support beam and went down.
Rio didn’t check to see if he got up. He lunged toward the far side of the cabin, pushing past a tangle of furniture.
Two more wolves scrambled to meet him, snarling.
The first swung a pipe, catching Rio on the shoulder, pain shot through him for half a heartbeat.
He used the momentum, closed the distance, and drove the wolf’s head into the wall. Drywall cracked.
The second wolf tried to grab Rio from behind. Cold hands dug into his arm, nails scoring skin. He twisted, caught the bastard by the jaw, and slammed his head against the kitchen counter hard enough to rattle the dishes stacked on it.
No sign of Kevin.
He scanned the space. Not much of a kitchen, just a vintage fridge and a hotplate. Beyond it, a door hung lopsided off its hinges. There was movement behind it.
Rio kicked the door in. A third wolf lurked in the shadows, but at the sight of Rio, he just raised his hands, palms out, and said, “Not my idea, man.” Rio hit him anyway with one cold punch then shoved past him.
And there was Kevin.
He was crumpled in the corner, knees pulled tight to his chest. Both hands were zip-tied together at his back.
Swollen purple bruises blazoned on one cheek.
Sweat trickled down his jaw, cutting a line through the dirt.
His eyes were glassy and wild, but when they found Rio, something flickered to life.
Rio crossed the room in two steps.
“Easy,” he gritted out. He didn’t care about the wolves in the hallway. Nothing else mattered. He knelt at Kevin’s side, hands trembling, fumbling with the zip tie.
“I’m fine,” Kevin croaked, stubborn as always. “Told you you’d regret this.”
Rio couldn’t manage a word for a second. The zip tie finally snapped in his hands.
Something moved behind him, and then Rio heard the click of a pistol. Instinct took over. He spun, taking Kevin with him, rolling to put his body between Kevin and the threat. The shot tore through the air, splitting the plaster above their heads.
Zeppelin’s voice thundered through the cabin. “DROP IT.”
The pistol clattered to the floor.
“Stay down,” Rio told Kevin. He rose, blood pounding in his head.
Ameer was back on his feet, blood dripping from his nose, gun in hand. Zeppelin stalked toward him, an ugly smile on his face.
“Just couldn’t walk away.” Zeppelin’s tone was calm.
Ameer fired. The shot went wide, thunking into the stairs leading to the attic.
Zeppelin caught Ameer’s wrist, and snapped it with a crack that silenced the whole house. Ameer shrieked, tried to swing at Zeppelin with his free hand, but that only earned him a punch to the gut that doubled him over.
Pack members dragged the rest of the wolves out onto the lawn.
Rio ignored the howling from the porch. He turned back to Kevin, whose eyes were finally focusing.
“Can you walk?” Rio asked.
Kevin nodded, even though he tried to stand and nearly toppled over.
Rio caught him and wrapped an arm around his waist. “I got you.”
They made it to the front room. Kenai waited there, face bruised but he was conscious, propped up against the wall. “Well,” he managed, “guess we don’t need the energy drink after all.”
Kevin snorted, which Rio took as a good sign.
Outside, the night had grown even cooler. It made every cut and bruise feel worse. Behind them, the wolves cursed and struggled. Zeppelin barked out a command, and two of his men hustled the prisoners off into the woods.
Rio steered Kevin toward the road. A pack member joined them, but Rio couldn’t recall his name.
“You all right?” the guy’s asked Kevin