Zander hadn’t known Luke long, but he’d considered him his nephew. It hurt to imagine what the kid had gone through. Hurt to know that Luke would have expected them to come for him, would have believed they’d save him. But they hadn’t found him, and they couldn’t even pray his death had been quick and painless. It would have been far from it.
Bracken’s uncle and Jesse’s sister had also been snatched by the same extremists. With the help of the Mercury wolves, Zander, Bracken, and Jesse had hunted down the people who ran the game reserve—both motherfuckers had suffered long and hard before dying, just as Luke likely suffered when he was set free in the wild, hunted like an animal, and then killed.
“Having heard about Rory,” began Ally, “I really think me and Derren should go with you.”
Bracken snorted. “You just want to see if the B&B is really haunted.”
Derren blinked. “Haunted?”
“I looked at reviews from guests,” said Ally. “There were a lot of them, and they were all good. It gets a lot of tourists and ghost hunters, since the locals claim it’s haunted.” At Derren’s scoff, she said, “You all believe in the soul, right? And you believe it vacates our body when we die. Is it such a stretch, then, to think that maybe some souls might stick around a little while?”
For Zander, yeah, it was a stretch. He just wasn’t a believer in all that stuff. Turning to Bracken, he said, “Ready to go?” The enforcer nodded, so Zander opened the driver’s door and said, “See you all in a few days.” As the pack called out quick goodbyes, he and Bracken hopped into the SUV.
In honesty, Zander wasn’t looking forward to spending the weekend around humans. He had nothing against them per se, but humans often fell into three camps when it came to shifters. They either feared shifters, were disgusted by them, or found them so fascinating that they gave them the kind of appraisal they’d give an ancient artifact. He supposed whether humans were prejudiced against shifters or not, they were often unable to see them as “people.”
Jesse leaned slightly into the open window. “You sure you don’t want additional company? It wouldn’t hurt the pack for me to come with you. Everything’s been quiet and peaceful for a while now. We’ve had no trouble at all.”
An odd note in the enforcer’s voice made Zander’s mouth curve. “You’re bored out of your mind, aren’t you?”
“It’s wrong, isn’t it?” said Jesse, rueful. “But I’m a person of action. There’s been no action.”
“You’re too whipped to cope without your mate for a few days.”
Bracken chuckled. “He’s right, Jesse, so stop with the growling.”
“I could bring Harley along,” Jesse offered.
Zander shook his head. “She has the club to run and performances scheduled. And really, Jesse, do you want her exposed to Rory? Because I don’t.”
Jesse sighed. “No.” He pushed away from the SUV. “If you need any kind of backup, you call me.”
Zander turned the key in the ignition. “Will do.”
CHAPTER TWO
If you’re so innocent, why didn’t you call me or come to the station last night to report the incident?” challenged Colt.
Leaning back in her rocker with her legs propped up on the wooden rail of the porch, ankles crossed, Gwen lifted a brow. “And the point of that would have been . . . what, exactly? You wouldn’t have done any, you know, police work.”
The sheriff perched his hands on his narrow hips. He was a good-looking guy. Broad and rugged. He was also a high-and-mighty bully who needed a good bitch slap . . . and to have someone stick an oyster fork in his eye because, you know, it would just be fun to watch.
His nostrils flared. “Unless you want to find yourself in lockup, don’t question my ability to do my job. Brandt claims that you attacked him with a bat, so that may well happen anyway.”
“Attacked him? The bat barely clipped his jaw.” Okay, that was an understatement, but whatever.
“Then how do you explain all his injuries?”
“He was already hurt when he got here. I only struck him with the bat once, and it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t brought it with him.”
Colt’s brow furrowed. “Brandt says the bat is yours.”
“It has ‘Brandt’ scrawled on it.” She pointed to the bat leaning against the wall. She’d grabbed it when she saw the sheriff’s car pull up.
Colt picked it up and examined it. “Huh, so it does.”
“You can tell the markings are old.”
“There was mention of a knuckle stun gun too. You can hand that over.”
Hell, no. “A knuckle stun gun?” Gwen let her eyes widen with interest. “They sell stuff like that now? Oh, I need to get me one of those.”
He ground his teeth. “According to Brandt, you already have one. You don’t want to mess with the Moores, Gwen. His father is calling for your blood—and he’s calling for it loudly.”
“Ezra does like the sound of his own voice,” she mused.
Sighing, Colt adjusted his hat. “Brandt says he came here last night to apologize.”
“With a bat and cans of spray paint? I think even his fancy attorney would have a problem making that sound innocent.”
“If you didn’t hurt him, who did?”
She snorted. “Don’t insult my intelligence, Colt. You know it was Ezra. Besides, why would I hurt Brandt? He’s giving me more ammunition to use against him when I go before the shifter council.” She gave him an excited smile. “I’m counting down the days. Can’t wait.”
Colt’s mouth set into a hard line. “I don’t want this trouble happening in my town.”
“You mean you don’t want the shifter council looking too closely at how you neglected the evidence. Understandable. And not my problem.”
“I neglected nothing. The cougar altered her statement; she said that she wasn’t sure who beat her that night and that her attacker was a complete stranger. It’s your word against the words of Brandt, Rowan, and Mack. They’re from respectable families. Do you even know where you’re from?” he sniped.
“Yeah, actually, I do.” She remembered plenty about her life before she came to live with the Millers when she was eight. Remembered the smells of rust, mildew, beer, cigarette smoke, and garbage that tainted the muggy air of the run-down trailer. Remembered the screen doors slamming, her mother screeching, her stepfather bellowing, and the constant clanging of the broken air-conditioning unit. Remembered trying to drown out the sounds of their fighting by opening her window wide to let the meth-using neighbors’ heavy-metal music filter through. Remembered huddling under a blanket to escape the rain dripping through the leaky roof, all the while wishing she was somewhere else. Anywhere else.
For some, going into foster care was a nightmare. For Gwen, it had been a blessing. “The shifter council won’t care how respectable those families are. Ezra can’t buy Brandt’s way out of this.” But she was sure he’d give it a shot.
Gwen looked to her left at the rumbling of a car engine. Moments later, an SUV parked in front of the B&B. This had to be Zander Devlin. He’d booked two rooms earlier that week, and she could still remember his voice; it was deep and throaty and sent a ghostly finger of need trailing down her spine.