Undercover Wolf

Chapter 22

Kristine’s mind was racing. She had continued to ask questions of Olivante, ones intended to sound understanding, as if she didn’t blame him for what he had done.

But the guy had just admitted to killing someone. A person, even though he had allegedly been in wolf form when he was shot on the night of a full moon.

Yes, the dead man had supposedly first killed their brother. Olivante might be vindicated in a court of law because of that, or perhaps even on a self-defense theory. Plus, he’d been a minor.

Had he been tried for homicide? Had he gotten off under the combination of circumstances?

True or not, this definitely explained his apparent hatred of the idea of shapeshifters. And it also explained why he was sure they existed.

But why had they told her this story—to garner her sympathy? To prove it was humans against shapeshifters?

Or simply because they intended to kill her, so it didn’t matter what she knew?

“I’m so sorry all of this happened to you, Darren,” she said. “You, too, Mel.” She looked at the brother in the chair across from her whose usually sardonic expression was now blank.

She actually was sorry. She was also full of those additional questions but unsure how to ask them in a tactful enough way not to raise their ire.

She wasn’t a cop, nor did she want to be one, or even a P.I. This interrogation thing would be much better for Quinn to do.

But she suspected that he wouldn’t act as sympathetic as she was pretending to be. She’d seen on TV and in the movies that interrogators often acted like buddies to get those they were questioning to confess. True? She wasn’t sure.

“What happened then?” she probed. “With two dead bodies like that—was there an investigation into how your brother had died?” Or your shooting of his killer?

“Of course,” Mel said. “Good thing it was a small town. People knew one another. But they figured Darren here had gone nuts when he started talking about the werewolf attacking Daniel.”

Kristine kept her gaze on Darren. “That must have hurt even more, to have people think you were crazy.” But didn’t the evidence of bites or whatever help to convince them? And did it get you out of a murder charge?

“It might have if I hadn’t known the truth. And—well, I had help afterward, so all of it, including what I said and did, was hushed up for my protection.”

“Really? What—?” But Kristine heard a noise from somewhere in the house. She caught the look that passed between the brothers.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Mel said. He glanced at his watch. “Time got away from me.”

“Know what?” Olivante said. “I think it’s time that Kristine learns more about what’s going on here.”

She didn’t like the sound of that—particularly because of his falsely jovial tone.

“You know,” she said, “I really think it’s time instead for me to head back to Bar Harbor. I’ve enjoyed talking with you both, but—”

“Don’t you get it yet?” Olivante growled. “You’ve seen and heard too much. You surely understand that you’re not just heading back to your supposed husband for more fun and games on behalf of that miserable excuse for a military unit. Military unit? Shapeshifters? Hell, our country deserves a lot better than that mockery of our military system.”

Was that the basis of his actions against Alpha Force? He hated shapeshifters, presumably loved his country and didn’t like to see the type of people he despised have any degree of success?

Kristine would have loved to ask—but not now. He had answered her questions about why he had told her so much. He had also said she couldn’t go back to Quinn.

He would learn otherwise.

But what if they wanted to use her for some kind of leverage? To lure Quinn in?

She wouldn’t allow that.

“Sorry you feel that way,” she said icily. “But if you had kept an open mind, you’d recognize how much good Alpha Force does in helping our country out of unusual situations.”

“I know more than you’re aware of. But—”

The noise sounded again. Mel remained standing in the doorway, observing them with apparent interest.

“Go take care of that!” Olivante exploded.

“It might help convince Kristine about how things are around here if I took her to see our guests.”

Guests? Kristine knew who he must be talking about. Her hands on her hips to prevent herself from lashing out in fury, she began, “Do you—?”

“You’re right.” Olivante grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her toward the door.

Mel had started down the musty hall. He opened a door at the end and disappeared, his feet clomping on a flight of wooden steps.

Olivante propelled Kristine that way, too. She didn’t fight him. Not when she wanted to see what was at the bottom of that precarious-looking stairway. But she did toss the strap of her purse over her shoulder.

And was shocked, as she neared the stairway entrance, to see a face in the window at the far end of the hall. Only for a moment. She blinked, and it was gone.

Warmth flooded through her, but she forced it to dissipate just as quickly. Had she conjured up his image in her mind, or was Quinn really there?

She’d texted him info to find the place, but had he located it this soon? And if so, was it a good thing? After what Olivante had told her...

Was Quinn involved with the killings? Of course not.

But his coming here, following her—ready to protect her?—had probably put him in danger.

As if reading her thoughts, Olivante, behind her, gave her a brief shove. Fortunately, he must not have seen Quinn.

Assuming Kristine hadn’t just imagined seeing him.

But Olivante surely would have reacted in some other way—like rage? Or...smugness?

Kristine hurried down the steps and stopped at the bottom.

The light was dim, but not too low for her to see the bars of two cages along the far side of the moderate-size room. One was occupied.

“Kristine!” shouted Grace’s voice. The woman who peered from between the bars didn’t look much like the alert, well-dressed military lieutenant who had been Kristine’s superior officer. She was dressed in a torn white T-shirt and ratty jeans, and sagged as she held on to the metal cage, as if she had no energy anywhere in her emaciated body. “Run!”

“You bastards.” Simon Parran stood in the same cage as Grace, looking equally shabby and gaunt.

The couple held hands, though, as if giving each other strength...and reassuring each other of their love.

Sweet. And inspirational.

Kristine would get them all out of this, somehow. Seeing them there made it clear to her that Olivante had been playing them all. Quinn needed to get inside here, to see this.

He needed to help her get his family freed and safe.

But for the moment, she was on her own.

Could she shoot both men at once? She hugged her purse closer.

“Time for your next medication, doctors,” Mel Olivante chortled. “And I think we have enough for your friend Kristine, too.”

* * *

Quinn had parked some distance away, in case the car was noticed by a curious neighbor. He had Kristine’s backpack over his shoulder as he hiked into the hills.

Fortunately, in this area, the houses weren’t close together. Also, the address was not along the main part of the street and was shadowed by surrounding hills that secluded one lot from another.

He was damned pleased at his timing. He had been there for only a few minutes, cased the place, initially found some windows he could peer into easily.

Had somehow chosen the right one for catching Kristine’s attention.

But now she had disappeared through a doorway.

He needed to get inside.

Backing up, he continued his surveillance and discovered what he had hoped to find: an open window.

Not on the ground floor, unfortunately. But it was near a gabled roof over a porch.

Quinn could get in that way. Easily.

As long as he was in wolf form.

He had become used to Kristine being there as his aide. To set up his shift when it wasn’t under a full moon, like now.

Well, this time, she couldn’t watch his back—but he would damn sure get in there and watch hers.

* * *

“I don’t understand,” Kristine said. “Why are you keeping Simon and Grace here? Let them go.”

She stood off to the side of the decrepit stairway, her back intentionally against the filthy stone wall. That way, neither man could sneak up on her.

But neither could she easily sneak out of there.

“You know we won’t do that, Kristine.” Olivante’s tone sounded utterly reasonable, as if he spoke to an obstinate child who needed reality to be explained. Both he and Mel stood at the base of the stairway, preventing her from bolting up it. She hadn’t thought that the bulky form of Olivante would ever seem ominous, but it did now—especially when reinforced by the more muscular presence of his brother. “Would you like to join them?”

“Of course not,” she spat. “Let them go.” Would they pay any attention if she kept repeating that? She doubted it. “Quinn knows where I am.” Boy, did he ever—but she wasn’t about to reveal anything about that. “It’ll go easier on you if you start cooperating now.”

“Oh, I don’t think he does,” Olivante said. “I wish it were true, though. The more members of Alpha Force that I can involve in my plan, the better.”

“What is your plan?” Kristine demanded. Maybe it wasn’t such a good thing for Quinn to be here. Was this a trap?

Mel laughed. “It’s so rich. She’s not leaving here,” he said to his brother, “so I want to tell her. Okay? I can brag about it to these fools since they won’t be able to tell anyone.”

“It’s a total setup,” Simon interjected from behind the bars of the cage, underscoring Kristine’s fear.

“They killed those poor people and are blaming it on us, as members of Alpha Force,” Grace said. “They claimed we shapeshifted and did it, since it was the night of the full moon, but you know we didn’t harm them.”

She was talking about the tourists, and not the cops. “I do know,” Kristine said. “And you’ll be exonerated as soon as we get out of here. For the mauling of those two cops, too, and the death of one of them.”

“They attacked cops the same way?” Simon yelled. “Locals? But there hasn’t been another full moon. No one will think it could be shapeshifters.”

“Oh, they just might,” Olivante said much too sweetly. “Those who really count will. Those who know about Alpha Force and its nature and the enhanced abilities of some of its members. And the rumors about more. We did a damned good job of using our collection of wolf claws and fangs. Not to mention the canine saliva we’d saved up, too.”

“And like I said,” Mel added, “you’re not leaving, Kristine, and neither are these two. But they have to stay alive till the next full moon so we can complete all our plans. We want even people who don’t know about Alpha Force to believe in shapeshifters—murdering ones. If you’re not a shifter, though, you don’t need to be alive then.”

Kristine shuddered. What could she do? She had to get them all out of this somehow. Carefully, she began to move her purse around so she could reach inside.

“If you’re looking for this, don’t bother,” Olivante said casually. He waved her gun in front of him.

How had he gotten it? She’d had her purse with her since she’d arrived. And yet—well, there had been times her eyes had been on Mel instead of his brother.

She shrugged without commenting, letting her hand drop to her side. She touched the outside of the pocket of her slacks. Could she surreptitiously push some button on her phone to make it call someone and broadcast all of this?

If only she could reach Quinn so he could hear everything before coming inside.

“They blindsided us,” Simon continued. “Olivante invited us to join him for breakfast the day after the full moon. We’d already recovered from the moon’s effects and thought it would be a good idea, but the juice was drugged. We woke up here, but his brother keeps knocking us out. They apparently even checked us out of our hotel and took our belongings away.”

“Hey, bro,” Mel said. “Take our dear Kristine upstairs. I can’t drug these two with her looking on. Unless you want me to drug her, too.”

“Not yet,” Olivante said. “There’s more I want to milk from her about Alpha Force before she joins these two. Although...” He aimed Kristine’s gun at her. “I’ll let her have the choice of either going back upstairs like a good girl, staying here and getting a small shot in the arm or getting a real shot.” He brandished the weapon.

“Not much choice,” Kristine said. She wished she could reassure Grace and Simon that all would be well. She had to make that happen.

But she’d have a better chance one-on-one with Olivante upstairs.

Olivante motioned with the gun toward the stairway. “Then after you, my dear,” he said.

* * *

He had done it.

It was much easier when Kristine was there, facilitating the change.

More enjoyable, too, when he could tease her with his naked human form.

But he had set up the light first, then drunk the elixir, removed his clothes, then stood in the glow.

And now he was ready.

Slowly, carefully, he approached the house once more, glad of the near utter darkness except for some lights through the windows. Despite the seclusion here, he did not want neighbors to see a wolf prowling their hillside.

He heard voices from inside. Kristine! And that SOB Olivante.

At least she was still alive. Maybe she’d even taken charge of the situation, knowing his Kristine.

And even if she wasn’t in control now, he would be. Soon.

He positioned himself carefully, knowing he would have only one chance to do this correctly. The porch roof was, fortunately, very pointed, with portions of it not far from the ground.

It was time. He leaped.

* * *

“What was that noise?” Olivante stood in front of Kristine in the living room once more, still brandishing the pistol. He looked upset. Frantic, even, which didn’t bode well for her longevity if he accidentally pulled the trigger.

“It came from downstairs,” she lied. “Sounded like your brother swung that cage door shut too hard.”

She knew it came from somewhere else around the house, maybe above it.

Could it be Quinn?

She prevented herself from smiling, but she allowed herself to hope.

And then—

A canine form leaped into the room, pouncing on Olivante even as the man got off a shot.

“Quinn!” Kristine exclaimed. He had to be okay, but she couldn’t tell where the shot went.

At least there was now a distraction. She picked up the chair where Mel had been sitting before and swung it—straight at Olivante’s arm.

He dropped the gun, even as Quinn clamped his teeth around Olivante’s throat.