Chapter Thirty #2
Bishop seems to bite his cheek against pointing out that they aren’t an official Pack, which means they have no territory. Instead, he says softly, “I wish to speak to your Alpha, Franklin Doyle. I have sent an envoy in the past, William Mills, and Mr. Doyle knows—”
“Jesus fucking Christ. Are you all deaf or just dumb? I don’t care who you are.”
“All right,” Bishop says. “But I care who you are. If you’d introduce yourselves—”
“Fuck off.”
Rufus growls. “You are addressing the Alpha of—”
A raised hand from Bishop cuts him off.
“You will not allow us to leave,” Bishop says. “And you don’t seem to want an explanation for our presence. So I presume you’re going to take us to see Mr. Doyle? Or someone in his inner circle?”
Silence, as if the fellow hadn’t thought this through.
“May I make a suggestion?” Bishop says. “One of you could return to the house and deliver a message. Then Mr. Doyle could decide whether he wants to allow us in or would rather meet us elsewhere.”
“Everyone out of the coach,” the man says, as if this is an answer to the suggestion. “I want to see you all.”
Julius is out in a blink. Ann follows with a regality that shows me the Alpha’s granddaughter she’d once been.
“We’ll take the women,” the wolf says. “If Doyle likes the gift, he might meet with you.”
“Gift?” Bishop steps forward.
I consider using this as a way to get inside the house, but I quickly decide against it. Even if Bishop would allow it—which he absolutely will not—I have no idea what Ann and I would face. Which means, as much as I hate to admit it, Bishop is right to categorically refuse.
Bishop continues, his voice a low growl. “You are speaking of my wife. My mate. Daughter of the—”
“Blah-blah-blah,” the wolf says, and his companion snickers. “Don’t worry, old chap. You can have her back when we’re done—”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish because he’s flying off his horse, hit by a very large object.
Apparently, Rufus moves remarkably fast for a man of his size.
He launched himself off the coach while the armed wolf was busy mocking Bishop.
Before I can blink, Bishop is on the fallen wolf, pinning him to the ground, the gun pushed aside.
The second wolf is off his horse and leaping in, which I must consider a poor strategic choice.
I’d have used the horse to sow confusion, but I suspect this is why the second fellow didn’t have a gun.
He believes in the werewolf code of using nothing except your own body as a weapon.
I respect it, but I still think it’s misguided.
I don’t interfere. It’s three wolves against two, and Bishop may be battered from our alley fight, but he has his quarry well pinned and the other wolf doesn’t get near Bishop before Rufus takes him down.
And then I hear the pound of hooves. We all do, and we look up to see two riders coming fast. Rufus curses. Ann grabs the discarded rifle, and I’m ready with a binding spell. But the two riders are unarmed, and they both pull up short, staying on their horses.
“What’s all this?” the lead one says. He’s tall and rangy, also with an American accent. His companion looks significantly shorter, maybe just below my height, but well muscled.
Julius takes over holding Bishop’s prey, and Bishop rises, tugging his jacket back in place. Before he can speak, the lead wolf says, “I know you, don’t I?”
“I do not believe so,” Bishop says, his voice chill but polite. “My name is Bishop—”
“Daniels!” the man says, grinning as if he’s guessing at charades. He swings off his horse. “Bishop Daniels, right?” He starts to extend a hand and then looks at the two pinned men.
“My apologies,” Bishop says. “We attempted parley with these gentlemen, but they had no interest in listening. I would not have attacked them for that, obviously, but they insulted my mate.”
“They wanted to take her and her cousin,” Rufus says, standing, one foot keeping his prey down. “As a gift for your Alpha. After Bishop said the ladies were his wife and her cousin.”
The man spins to face the wolf Julius is restraining. “What the fucking—?” He stops and makes a face before inclining his head my way. “Sorry about the language, ma’am. And sorry even more for the insult.”
I say, “He seemed to think the Alpha would appreciate my cousin and me. For a bit of sport.”
“Because he’s a fuck—damned idiot. Where were you going to take them, Bruno? To your room? You know what I’d have done if I found out? Nailed your balls to—”
His companion, still on his horse, clears his throat and the wolf makes another face. “Sorry, ma’am. But no, he was not going to bring you back to the Alpha.”
“May I presume that is you?” Bishop says.
The wolf extends his hand. “Franklin Doyle, Alpha of the Cambrians. You can call me Doyle. Everyone does, except that fellow on the horse there. That’s Jesse, my indispensable right-hand man.
I am so sorry about this. This one”—he hooks a thumb at Bruno—“is new. Came over on a boat to join, and I’m starting to think I’ll be sending him right back.
” He looks at Bruno. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t going to touch the ladies,” Bruno whines. “He was being all uppity, and I was trying to put him in his place.”
“He’s not uppity, you idiot. That’s how he talks. He’s an English gentleman.” Doyle looks at Bishop. “These fellas hear a proper English accent, and to them it sounds like you’re being all hoity-toity when you’re just talking.”
“I understand,” Bishop says. “Although I would suggest that he owes my wife and her cousin an apology.”
“I’ll make sure they get it. These fellas have no idea how to talk to ladies either.” He steps toward me and bows, starting to say something and then stopping and inhaling. When he looks up, he frowns, as if confused.
“My wife is the daughter of Silas Stockwell,” Bishop says. “She’s a lycan.”
“A…?”
I answer, “Werewolf daughters occasionally inherit some secondary traits, including the scent of a werewolf. They’re known—over here at least—as lycans.”
“Well, isn’t that interesting. Never heard of it myself, but it would explain the scent. And how is your father, ma’am?”
I resist the urge to answer with a blunt “Dead” and instead say, “He is no longer among the living. Bishop is now Alpha, which is why we have come to speak to you.”
“You’re Alpha?” Doyle extends his hand again to Bishop.
“Congratulations. That is excellent news.” He pauses and glances my way.
“And that was rude of me. I am sorry for your loss, Mrs. Daniels. I only meant that if there is to be a new Alpha, I am glad it’s this fellow.
I have heard nothing but praise of him from William. And how is William?”
“This will be a long story,” Julius cuts in. “Any chance we can take it inside?”