Chapter 5
A short while later, they were on the tarmac in Texas, just leaving the jet when the ground crew paid Hank a little visit. A bunch of beefy, single male werewolves were growling in human form as Hank exited, and they quickly had him surrounded.
“You’re Emma’s father?” the ringleader—a man with more tattoos than Hank had ever seen on a shifter showing through the ripped sleeves of his overalls—stepped right up to challenge Hank.
“I am,” he declared proudly. No way was he going to be intimidated by this pack of wild dogs.
“You better do right by them,” the man continued, poking Hank in the chest.
Hank looked down at the man’s finger with a haughty tilt to his head but didn’t budge his stance. He was just in the mood for a fight if these assholes wanted one.
“Seeing as how I only found out about Emma last week, you should give me a chance before jumping to conclusions. Also, what I do with my family is none of your damn business, so fuck off.”
Hank made to move past the man, but the guy tried to slug him, and Hank spun into action.
Before the others could move, Hank had the ringleader on the pavement, his arm held at an unnatural angle that hurt enough to immobilize the bastard, unless he wanted Hank to break his arm.
When Hank looked up, surprised that the rest of the werewolves hadn’t already piled on, he realized the twins had come down the steps from the jet and were holding the others at bay by their mere presence.
Hank had known the twins were huge men, but seeing them up against the werewolves re-emphasized just how large and intimidating the jaguar brothers really were. No wonder Mark wanted to recruit them. They were a force of nature, all by themselves.
Hank let his attacker up by slow degrees, getting dirty looks but no further violent action from the wolves all around. Hank stepped back, releasing the ringleader entirely.
“This isn’t over,” the ringleader warned him. “You cats don’t give a damn about your kin, but we wolves stick together. We’re Pack. We look out for each other.”
“And Emma is my daughter,” Hank told the man in a cold voice. “You don’t know the first thing about what that means to me, so don’t presume to understand. Tracy and I will come to an agreement between ourselves, and that doesn’t need the input or interference of her Pack. It’s private.”
This time, when Hank walked past the man, he went unmolested.
It didn’t hurt that he had the two behemoth brothers flanking him.
Nobody seemed intent on taking on all three of them at once, for which Hank was grateful.
The last thing he wanted to do was put any of Tracy’s kin in the hospital.
That was no way to try to get on her good side.
“You have some nice moves for a pilot,” Pax commented once they were out of earshot of the wolves. “We didn’t expect that.”
“I may be a pilot, but I was also Special Forces. I trained like the rest of you guys, but then, I specialized. Luckily, I still remember a few things,” Hank allowed, trying not to sound too smug that he’d managed to surprise the twins. Why was it everyone thought they had him pegged?
Hank liked surprising people. It was part of his playful nature and yet another game to him.
A fun one where he could be many things to many people, managing to surprise them in good ways all the time.
He enjoyed it when he got them good, like just now.
His inner cat was a prankster. Always had been.
But then, he decided to come clean a bit. He was here to sell them on the idea of joining the larger jaguar Clan, and this was a subtle opportunity to tell them what it was like to be one of Mark Pepard’s top people.
“Plus, we have a pretty nice dojo on the island. Everyone who works in security or diplomacy gets lessons in new fighting styles, if we want. Mark sends out anyone who wants higher levels of training to spots all over the world, then those folks bring back new techniques and teach the rest of us.”
Hank looked back to see what the brothers thought of that and caught grudging expressions of respect on both faces. Maybe they would be tempted by the idea of higher education—in the military sense and the civilian. He went on.
“We’re building several schools and workshops, as well,” Hank told them quietly as they approached the terminal building.
“The idea is that anyone who’s an expert can teach the rest of us who might want to learn something.
And if anyone wants to become an expert in something, Mark will pay for their education in the outside world.
We’ve got masters on the island in everything from baking to building bombs.
Gunsmiths, and goldsmiths who make jewelry and trinkets.
The courses they teach are open to all on the island who have an interest.”
Hank stopped his sales pitch as they entered the building.
The setup on the island wasn’t the business of these wolves—or anybody else around here.
Except maybe for Emma…and her mother. Hank had really welcomed Mark’s suggestion that he get them both to visit the island, if he could.
He wanted Emma, and especially Tracy, to know what the Clan was building there, and that there was always a place for them among the jaguars.
A place they both deserved through their bond to him.
Because he was bonded to Tracy—regardless of what she might think.
The fact that he hadn’t been able to even think of another woman romantically in so long should’ve clued him in sooner, but he had been both stubborn and blind.
Probably idiotic, as well. What kind of a jerk didn’t realize he’d found his mate?
He must be some kind of defective shifter in that way. Hank refrained from shaking his head at his own thoughts. He was about to be surrounded by Tracy’s Pack again. He couldn’t show any sort of weakness, or the wolves would pounce on him—or, at least, they’d try to.
And speaking of pouncing… Hank had no sooner walked into the terminal than he spotted the Alpha wolf heading straight for him.
Shit.
“You know that guy?” Pax muttered from Hank’s right.
“Yeah,” Hank admitted. “He’s the Alpha of this Pack and my daughter’s granddad.”
“He looks like he wants to kill you, boy-o,” Ari put in from Hank’s left.
“He probably does, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow it.” Hank had to consciously keep the snarl out of his words. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
He didn’t let his steps falter at all. No hesitation. No sign of weakness. He was meeting the Alpha head on, in the middle of the airport terminal that the Pack owned. Great. Just great.
Hank, with Pax and Ari slightly behind and to either side of him, met the Alpha in the middle of the concourse. Tracy’s father didn’t need anyone else at his side. The entire terminal was full of his people. All of them would come to his aid if he needed it.
“Alpha,” Hank opened negotiations with a courteous nod. This was his baby’s grandfather. He would be respectful—as far as he could manage.
“You took your time coming back.” The Alpha didn’t bother keeping the snarl from his voice.
Hank realized he was growling too. Great. If Tracy’s dad went for Hank’s throat, he’d have to defend himself, but he really didn’t want to get in a fight with this guy.
“I’m here now, and I plan to discuss our situation fully with Tracy. I have a right to know my own child.” Hank remained respectful, but firm. It wouldn’t do to show any weakness in this confrontation.
The Alpha was still growling in the back of his throat, his beast getting the better of him in his emotional state. Hank didn’t want to antagonize the man, but he had to remain firm.
“My granddaughter is a cat, for Goddess’ sake!”
The statement burst from Tracy’s dad, making Hank shake his head. Hank knew there was always friction between werewolves and any kind of big cat shifter, but the Alpha was talking about his own granddaughter. Hank’s child. This would never do.
Hank felt more than saw Pax and Ari crossing their beefy forearms beside him.
They apparently didn’t like the tone the Alpha wolf had used any more than Hank did, but he didn’t want to fight with this man.
He had to keep reminding himself of that little fact.
A fistfight with her father, in the middle of the terminal, wouldn’t do his chances with Tracy any good at all. No matter who won, Hank would lose.
Maybe that’s what the Alpha wanted? Hank vowed not to fall into any sneaky wolf traps.
They were consummate hunters, but they usually hunted in Packs.
Hank was the expert at the solo stalk. He had big prey in his sights—his daughter and potential mate.
He wouldn’t let a lone wolf, or even an entire wolf Pack, get in his way with that kind of prize in the mix. Not if he could help it.
“Emma is a jaguar, of noble and deadly lineage,” Hank reminded the Alpha.
They’d talked about this before, but apparently, it hadn’t sunk in.
Or maybe the man just couldn’t get past the fact that his granddaughter was a cat.
He’d have to figure that out, and the sooner, the better.
“Emma is powerful to be shifting so young. It’s a sign from the Goddess that my child has a strong jaguar spirit.
And I intend…” Hank kept talking, not giving the Alpha time to interrupt, “…to teach her the ways of her people.”
“We’re her people,” the Alpha growled. “She’s blood of my blood. Don’t you forget that.”
“I will not, but you also have to see that she needs to be around other jaguars on occasion, to learn the things jaguars need to know. Her spirit is that of a lone hunter, not a Pack hunter. She will need to understand what makes her different as she grows and understand there’s nothing wrong with being what she is. ”
The Alpha glowered. “She should’ve been a wolf.”
Hank took an aggressive step forward, and the Alpha met him halfway. Was Tracy’s father trying to provoke a fight?