Black Hills Desperado (Black Hills Wolves Book 3) (8 page)

“You ready to listen to the way I need to tell it?”

She smiled and grabbed Marcus’s hand, giving it a squeeze. She wasn’t the only one who’d been learning to speak Chinese—Marcus had learned right along with her, and between the two of them, they were quite a fluent duo. “Yes, we are. Need to have some stories to tell the kids.”

Marcus’s mouth dropped open. “We’re having a baby? I mean, I thought I smelled something off with you, and you’ve been really moody, but I thought maybe you were just adjusting to being mated.”

“Moody?” Xio growled.

“Never mind. So, a baby.”

Xio smiled and raised two fingers as Gee came over, handed him a beer, and clapped him on the back. “Congratulations.”

The beer slipped out of his grip, rolled off the table and onto the floor, leaving a trail of suds in its wake. “Twins?” Marcus jumped up, grabbed her, and spun her around like a rag doll, only stopping when Gee cleared his throat. He quickly set her back on her feet and pulled out her chair. “Two of them? You’re serious.”

She nodded and he laughed, sinking back into the seat.

“We’re going to have babies.” Marcus shoved a hand in his hair and began to pace. “I never imagined…twins.”

“Well, they do run in the family,” Xio said. “Sit. Now about that story, Gee.”

“On it.” The bear spun a chair around and straddled it. But before I start, I want to tell you something. What you do with the information is up to you. Your mother isn’t dead, Xio. Magnum ran her off after your father died in the “hunting accident.” The old Alpha didn’t agree with mixing humans and wolves. He was going to drown you and your brother in a stream, but the pack stopped him.”

“Where is she?”

“Texas. She’s living with the El Paso pack. They took her in after they learned what happened and threatened to come up here and start a war if Magnum did anything to you or your brother.”

“I don’t understand? How could he do that? We were babies. She was our mother.”

Gee shrugged. “He was crazy. He planned to mate you with one of the alpha’s sons down in Texas when you came of age and create a treaty of sorts to get the pack off his back. What he didn’t realize is that fate already decided you belonged to one of them. Marcus, one way or the other, would have been your mate. Soul mates. As the story with your grandparents, so are you.”

“I can’t believe she’s alive.”

Marcus sat up. “What’s her name?”

“Lily. She’s a pack doctor but was a surgeon in Rapid City. It’s how Xio’s father met her. He’d gotten shot by a hunter targeting weres—someone old-school who used silver, knew what they were doing. The wound nearly killed him. When Magnum discovered they’d secretly married months later, and worse, started a family, he went off the deep end. I think you’ll discover Xio and Xan’s father’s death was no accident. Lily always wanted to come back for you, but couldn’t. By the time Magnum was dead, you and your brother were gone.”

“I know Lily. She’s a good woman.” Marcus looked over at Xio. “You want to make a road trip? Meet her?”

“Yes.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “She’s alive. I have a mother. I can’t believe....”

“Okay,” the bear grunted. “This is touching, but I have a story to tell and work to get back to. You two can get all gooey about it later, on your time.”

Xio smiled at the grumpy bruin and wiped the tear away. “Then go on. I didn’t learn Chinese for nothing.”

“Mai Ling served meals to the men laying the rails. When the railroad came through the Badlands, she met your grandfather, Eli Snow.”

“What’s for chow?” he asked.

Startled, Mai Ling lifted her gaze from the stew. She noticed a tall man with blond hair and fancy clothes leaning on the chuck wagon she’d brought out to where the men worked. Slung low across his hips was a holster, and in the hand-tooled leather rested an even more impressive revolver that would certainly send her to her backside if she tried to fire it. Big man. Big gun. “You work with crew?”

“No, ma’am. I’m passing through to Los Lobos.”

He stared at her from under the brim of a weathered cowboy hat. There had been enough heat in his eyes to make her turn red, even though there was ice on the ground and a wind that blew down from the north, making the day quite frigid.

She wanted to tell him the food was for the crew only, but something in the man’s expression told her he wouldn’t take no for an answer. So she lied. “Dog.”

The gunslinger straightened his spine, scowling at the kettle hanging over the fire. He sniffed and curled his lip. “Dog?”

“You no like?”

“No, ma’am. I no like.”

“Why you no like?” She lifted the ladle to her mouth and took a bite of the beef stew, watching him cringe.

“I guess you could say I’m a bit of a mongrel, and eating that would make me feel like a cannibal.”

“It’s good. You try some.” Scooping up another portion, Mai Ling thrust the utensil out to Eli. “You no look like dog.”

“I suppose I don’t. I’m more wolf than dog.” He eyed the food she shoved under his nose. “There’s a lot of things I’d like to take a bite of, but that isn’t one of them, darlin’.” He pushed it away.

“Okay, you no like my stew.” Mai Ling shoved the spoon back in the pot. “What you like a bite of, then?”

“Ma’am, I’d love to take a bite of you.” He tipped his hat to her. “And that’s not dog.” With a wink, he turned and walked away, his spurs clanking with each step.

“You not so scary, Mr. Wolf.”

Mai Ling knew the moment she’d seen him, Eli was meant to be hers, and from the look he’d given her, she knew he felt the same. What she didn’t know at the time, however, was that Eli really was a wolf in gunslinger’s clothing.

This time when he told the story, Xio learned some things were meant to be. Like a bank robber and lawman, or a gunslinger and Chinese princess who’d escaped a prearranged marriage and traveled by ship to America, where she’d found her true love in the Black Hills. Fate sometimes had a way of mixing oil with water, and Xio wouldn’t have it any other way. Opposites did attract.

Marcus Cazador was the yang to her yin.

D. L. Jackson is a writer of urban fantasy, science fiction, military romance and erotic romance. She loves to incorporate crazy plot twists, comedy and the unexpected into her worlds. As a U.S. Army veteran, she naturally adores men in uniform and feels the world could always use more. She does her part by incorporating as many sexy soldiers in her novels as she can. When she isn't writing or running the roads, you can often find her online chatting with her peers and readers. Grab a cup of iced coffee, pull up your virtual chair and say hi. She loves emails and blog visits from her readers.

You can visit D.L. at:

http://authordljackson.com

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Wolf’s Song by Taryn Kincaid

Prologue

“Magnum?” Brick Northridge snorted and muttered into his beer. He stared bleary eyed at the hated alpha holding court in the center of the saloon. “More like a .22, if you ask me. Maybe a pea shooter.” He sat off by himself, as always, in a far corner of The Den, making deep inroads into his second foamy pitcher, his chair tilted back against the stone wall, its two front legs off the peanut shell-strewn floor. The brew gave him a heady buzz, but failed to still the roar in his head. Too many wolfy voices. Too many pictures of lupine death.

Like right now. A white flash went off, revealing a series of mental Kodachromes of Magnum Tao, the pack’s alpha, laid out all Rest in Fuckin’ Peace on a satin lining, a lily sticking up from his cold, crossed hands. The pack shedding a few crocodile tears. Then rejoicing.

Brick didn’t want the visions arriving unbidden in his head, all chopped up movie-trailer style, decibel level cranked, useless coming attractions when he never knew the where or when…only the how. He’d learned as a cub to keep his mouth shut and wait for the feature to begin. No one ever appreciated hearing how they’d die. Not when they couldn’t do much about it.

But the current video of Funeral Home Magnum deposited more funds into Brick’s mortgaged courage account than the liquid variety drained from a beer mug. His back went as rigid as if someone had shoved a titanium rod up his ass. He bolted out of his chair, upended wood splintering.

One of these days, he and Gee, the saloon-owning werebear, would have to settle his running bar tab and retire that long-distance marathoner. Gee risked his liquor license even letting his underage ass into the joint. But the gruff old walking throw rug took pity on him, apparently, and seemed to understand his need to still the unwanted cacophony of others’ thoughts, letting him self-medicate the clamor into a low hum the only way he knew how.

“Yeah? Well, no one asked you, punk.” Magnum whirled around and trained his belligerent gaze in Brick’s direction. He dropped his sinewy arms from the shoulders of the two stacked humans who Wonder Breaded him like a slab of bologna. A scent at once gamey and oily, the twin odors of decay and greed, wafted from the alpha’s hide. Brick twitched his nose as the stink, laced with evil, struck him full on and chiseled up his nose like a burrowing parasite. His stomach clenched but he tamped down the gag reflex.

“Who the hell let you in here, anyway?” Magnum demanded. “Gee?” He looked around for the proprietor but the massive werebear merely crossed his arms over his huge chest and said nothing. “You let this underage motherfucker drink in your establishment?”

“Between you and me, asswipe,” Brick said. “Got nothing to do with Gee. Leave him out of it.”

“You and me?” The older wolf snorted. “And what fuckin’ cavalry?” Magnum’s eyes glowed yellow as he waited for an answer. The greasy, unkempt hair on his nape rose. All conversation stopped, raucous laughter misting away. Even the band dropped their instruments to watch the confrontation, their eyes wary, gazes skittering across the room in an effort to meet no one else’s. The silence lengthened, pea souped into a dense fog, and swallowed the electric buzz rippling with the promise of a brawl. The scent of fear and horror, flavored with excitement, thickened the air.

Magnum’s shoulders bunched as he prepared to spring, but he did not shift.

Brick stood his ground, without looking down or tilting his head to offer his neck in a more submissive stance, as a good and respectful pack member should. He neither feared nor respected Magnum and felt no compulsion to bow before him. Maybe that made him crazy—along with the wolf voices and death visions alcohol couldn’t chase—but the alpha had grown crazier, maddened by his power, no longer the moral compass of the pack, no longer the protective leader of those less dominant, no longer interested in anything except his own greed—and violence for the sake of violence. Magnum had never bothered to pass on any wolfdom lore; he’d never had any interest in teaching the pack’s young what it meant to be a wolf. He’d entirely shirked his duties to the cubs. Instead, Magnum had become one sick twist. Too cozy by half with the encroaching clan of cat shifters on the other side of the mountain who lately seemed bent on nothing less than territory domination. Way past time for someone to take Magnum on…and take him out.

Should have been his son’s responsibility. Right? Protect the pack, issue the challenge, usurp and depose the father, take on the mantle of leadership. But Drew Tao had left the Black Hills…maybe for good. And no one else seemed ready or willing to step up. Except the stupid loner who had snatches of other wolves’ convos drumming commentary inside his head. Nearly drowning out his own audio loop. Not that he wanted to take over the pack or lead anyone anywhere. He just wanted Greasy Locks the hell gone.

Do it. It’s time. Either Magnum goes…or you do.

A growl rumbled up from Brick’s gut like the Union Pacific barreling over the tracks. Freight-training from his belly. His lungs expanded, inflated and squeezed oxygen like a blacksmith’s bellows. The roar burst from his mouth into the dead silence swamping The Den. His anguished howl swept through the town of Los Lobos, a dark wind vibrating out through the quiet South Dakota night, rattling across the empty prairie to the Black Hills, bouncing off the thick stands of ponderosa pine and aspen blanketing the granite mountains. Loud enough to be heard in the cat stronghold of Shady Heart. A war cry echoing from peak to peak.

Brick bared his teeth and launched himself at his alpha. Prepared to die.

Suicide by werewolf.

Mother Luna, give me strength to wipe the oily smirk from that asshole’s muzzle before I go
.

Barely eighteen, without the deadly muscles and massive bulk he’d acquire if he lived to prime adulthood, he faced a mature and powerful creature with decades of experience and more than one hundred pounds on him. He gauged his chances somewhere between nil and none. Even slim and fat seemed too great a percentage with the odds stacked more heavily against him than the siliconed boobs of Magnum’s groupies. But irrational fury compelled him, lent him a false sense of bravado.