Chapter 4
Hank was miserable in Arizona. Oh, the people were nice enough, and he’d been welcomed—if not warmly, then at least with little hostility—by the Arizona Jaguar Clan.
There weren’t that many of them, and they were a closely related, extended family group.
Not a good breeding population, if they’d only mated with other jaguars, but this group had bred out a lot.
There were more than a few human mates in the Clan, and judging by the power emanating even from the youngest members of the Clan, the jaguar spirit was strong here.
It would be a really good thing if Hank could somehow convince them quickly to ally with the much larger Jaguar Island group under Mark Pepard’s leadership, but he would play the long game if he had to.
Mark had confided a bit of his plan to Hank.
Mark was starting with Pax and Ari—fraternal twin brothers who had retired from the U.S.
Navy SEAL teams and then gone into mercenary work.
They had good reputations, but their willingness to work with other species of shifters and hire out for money was key.
The money they earned went back to their Clan, for the most part.
Mark had traced it…with some difficulty, which proved someone in the Clan had mad financial skills.
Mark wanted all the highly skilled jaguars he could get to help protect the rest.
From all Mark had been able to discover, he believed the twins cared deeply about their people.
If Mark could show those two brothers the life waiting for their small Clan on Jaguar Island, he might be able to get them all to come under the umbrella of his protection.
But they were proud people, and cats liked to go their own way, more often than not.
It was going to be a hard sell, but Mark had to try, and he’d sent Hank as his messenger or negotiator—whichever role was needed.
So far, he hadn’t had much success convincing the brothers to visit the island.
He’d already stayed far longer in Arizona than he’d wanted.
He had hoped to have this settled in a day or two, and it had already been almost a full week.
Hank’s heart was still in Texas, but his body was in Arizona… and he didn’t want to be here.
By the same token, he didn’t want to fail in his mission either.
So, when Pax and Ari invited him to sample the local nightlife, Hank took them up on the offer.
The bar they took him to was typical of any roadhouse Hank had seen in this part of the country.
Dusty floor. Battered furniture. Low lighting.
Complete with pool tables in the back and a few booths along one wall.
Pax and Ari were greeted like regulars, and they claimed one of the big booths in a corner.
Hank was impressed with the way they were treated.
Sure, Pax and Ari were both huge guys with a deadly air about them, but the staff, and even some of the patrons, treated them with friendly welcome.
That was something Hank hadn’t expected.
Cats were usually somewhat solitary—for a reason.
They weren’t known for their social skills, in general, though there were always exceptions.
These twin behemoths appeared to be one of those rare exceptions.
They had beers in their hands before they even sat down, and Hank was, once again, impressed by both the speed of service and the genuine welcome they were receiving.
He must have shown his surprise in some way because Pax was grinning at him as they sat in the corner where nobody without shifter hearing would have a chance of listening in on their conversation.
“We help out here, sometimes,” Ari explained, seeming to take pity on Hank’s confusion. “Whenever we’re home, we like to hang out here, and the troublemakers figure it out pretty quick and go elsewhere.”
“We don’t really enjoy bar fights that much, anymore,” Pax put in, snagging a bowl of pretzels from a nearby table and putting them in the center of theirs. “Grew out of that a long time ago.”
“I bet,” Hank agreed, reaching for a pretzel. He looked around the room again and realized the calm was likely deceptive. If the jaguar brothers weren’t around, this place was probably a lot more…uncivilized.
“It’s a little break for Mack,” Ari said, gesturing toward the very large bartender who was restocking the cooler.
The human male was wearing a leather vest with a number of colorful patches, and had tattoos up and down both arms. Hank took one look and connected him with the rather bodacious Harley parked just outside.
“Yeah, sort of a vacation,” Pax agreed, chuckling. “He likes the place rough, but he claims it’s a nice change when we’re around for a bit. Lets him regroup, or something.”
“Mack was Recon,” Ari put in, keeping his voice low.
Hank knew all about the different types of elite military units.
He’d been in a couple of different Air Forces around the world, in his time.
That was one of the reasons he’d been tapped to make contact with the twins.
They’d worked together—sort of—a few times.
If being the pilot on some of their covert missions was working together, that is.
The first time they’d crossed paths, the three of them had immediately recognized the beast they had in common.
It was a bond, of sorts. All three being jaguars, when jaguars were becoming increasingly rare in the world, even in shifter circles.
They’d met up again, several times over the years, when work brought them together, but Hank hadn’t seen the twins since leaving the service, and that had been more than a few years ago.
“So, what’s it like, working for Pepard?” Pax asked, out of the blue, broaching the subject Hank had been sent here to discuss.
“Not bad. He’s a good man. A good Alpha. He’s taking the jaguar people in a new direction, and I believe in his vision,” Hank said, laying it all out there. As far as he was concerned, this mission had already dragged on too long. He took a long pull of his beer.
“I don’t know…” Ari said, drawing out the words. “I don’t know if our beasts were built for all that togetherness. It gets hard, sometimes, even with our small Clan. That’s why we still work for hire.”
“I understand that,” Hank told them. “Our need for territory of our own and the right to walk alone is something we all struggle with, but Mark knows it, probably better than anyone else. If you guys would just come take a look at what he’s built—”
“The island?” Pax cut off Hank’s words. This was the first time they’d gotten this far in discussion.
He’d been headed off more times by elders and children than he could count when he’d been trying to get to the important stuff.
It was as if they were all testing how patient he could be.
“Is he seriously inviting us to the island? I thought that was all Top Secret?”
“If you guys had let me talk before, you would’ve known I’d been sent here specifically to invite you to meet with Mark. On the island. I’m at your disposal to fly you there and back again. No strings.” Finally! He’d gotten the message delivered. Now, he’d have to wait to see what they decided.
Both brothers were frowning, apparently thinking hard, so Hank finished his beer and signaled the waitress for another round.
In fact, when she came over, he added tequila shots to the order.
He was feeling annoyed at being here so long when he really wanted to be back in Texas right now, working on convincing Tracy to let him be part of their daughter’s life.
When the waitress had left, Ari spoke. “We didn’t expect this. We thought you’d come to deliver some kind of ultimatum.”
Hank shook his head. “Mark’s not that kind of Alpha.”
“We’re beginning to see that,” Pax said, nodding. “This is unexpected. All the intel we had on him said he was utterly ruthless.”
“To his enemies, sure,” Hank agreed, tossing back the tequila.
“But he sees all jaguars as family. His protective instincts run a mile wide. He wants to bring us all in, so we have a chance to rebuild our numbers and our strength as a people, so nobody is ever able to kill us off, almost to extinction, ever again.” That was almost verbatim from what he’d heard Mark say more than once.
“So, you believe he’s not just building a power base so he can lord it over all jaguars, like some kind of king or emperor. I mean, we know some of the other big cats have royalty, but we’re not like that. You know we’re not,” Ari said, watching Hank closely.
“I know. And so does Mark. The power structure he’s set up is according to the old ways. He’s not creating a dictatorship. Far from it.”
“If Mark’s Alpha, who’s his Beta?” Pax asked sharply.
“Do you know Nick Balam?” Hank countered, glad to see Mark’s security was holding.
For all intents and purposes, Mark was the only leader of the jaguar people, but that wasn’t really the case.
He was the political leader, but Nick—who was ostensibly Mark’s head of security—was really the protector of the Clan.
They shared power in a tradition that went back many, many generations of jaguars.
“Balam?” Both brothers jerked their heads back in shock, mirror images though they weren’t identical twins. Still, they had incredibly similar reactions, which probably made them good as a team in battle, Hank theorized.
“That’s an old and revered name among our people,” Ari said after a long pause. “But we don’t know Nick.”
“Heard of him, but never worked with him personally,” Pax put in.
“He’s newly mated, as is Mark. They are a stable team around which to rebuild our people,” Hank told the brothers, and he believed it with all his heart.