Frostbitten (17 page)

Travis
—
that was the name of the big guy who’d cut off Reese’s fingers
. “I have a Tesler in my records, but I think the last time he was seen was before I joined the Pack.”

“That is not a surprise. It would seem this Tesler brought his young sons to Ukraine many years ago. We heard nothing of them until a few years ago, when the sons decided they wanted a pack of their own, a pack of criminals. Murderers. Rapists. Thieves.” He spat something in Russian, and I was sure it wasn’t complimentary.

“A gang of troublemakers, then?”

“No, that would have been easier to deal with. They are smart, organized criminals. Their specialty is guns—the buying and selling of them, not the using of them.”

“Gun-runners.”

“Yes. If they had stayed in Ukraine, perhaps we would have, how do you say it? Looked the other way. But they were not happy with that. They started to move around. First Romania, then Belarus, then Georgia.”

“Circling your borders.”

“Yes, as I said, they are smart. They did not dare trespass, but they caught our attention. We watched. Then they recruited two of my Pack, new members.”

“Culling from the edges. They were getting brazen.”

A humorless chuckle. “Brazen, yes. I sent my wolves after them. When they escaped, they only got more brazen, crossing our borders to do business. It was then, as we were tracking their activities, that I discovered the real reason they moved so often. When you hire rapists, you hire men with a habit they will not easily overcome.”

I thought of the missing Alaskan girls. “They were raping locals.”

“At least one was. Raping and killing. While I would like to take the credit for scaring them out of Russian lands, my wolves were only an added incentive, as you would say. The police got too close. That is why they fled and, it would appear, became your problem.”

“Well, they’re on our radar now, and it seems they’re tired of running. They’re taking a stand, killing off the local werewolves. With any luck, that means they’ll stay still long enough for us to eliminate them.”

“If you need help with that, I could send some of my wolves.”

“I appreciate the offer, but for now, let us get a better look at what we’re up against. Do you have any idea how many there were? We’re only finding traces of three, but from what you say, there are more than that.”

“My sources tell me they did not all leave with the Teslers. A falling out, perhaps? Five or six went, including the brothers. Others stayed behind. Another four or five. Of course that does not mean they intend to stay behind forever.”

“Let the Teslers and a few others come over, scope out new territory and clear it before the others make the trip. In that case, it seems we’ve found them at just the right time. Our Pack can handle five or six. If we need help, though…”

“We are only a phone call away.”

* * * *

Clay stopped in the lobby to grab a snack from the coffee stand while I went up to our room. I stepped off to the sounds of a couple fighting so loudly that I backed into the elevator to give them privacy before I realized the foyer was empty. So was the hall. The voices came from a room at the end of the corridor. Even without werewolf hearing, I’d have caught every word. Small rooms
and
lousy soundproofing. Great. I wondered how many guests we’d woken during our room-wrecking romp last night.

As I walked down the hall, the fight continued, the man giving the woman shit for flirting. If that was her perfume I smelled soaking the hall, I didn’t blame him for being concerned. Or maybe her husband dumped the bottle in the hall. I hoped not—if we could smell it from our hotel room, we were definitely switching. The stench was already giving me a headache.

I opened our door, stepped in and took a deep breath of what I hoped was clean air. It wasn’t. And what I smelled made me realize the perfume hadn’t been spilled accidentally—someone had been covering an odor that might stop us from opening this door.

I backed up into the open doorway, still sniffing, trying to catch any scent in the air that would suggest a mutt was still in our room. Even when I didn’t smell that, I eased in, my back to the wall, moving slow. I kicked open the bathroom door. Empty. The maids had left the shower curtain open, so I could see the tub was bare.

I ran into the main room and leapt onto the bed to check the other side. The room was empty. But it still stunk of werewolf—two of the ones who’d killed Dennis.

It stunk of something else, too. The scent wafted up from under me. I looked down at the sloppily made bed. Then I bent and yanked back the covers. The smell of semen rushed out. I swore and hopped off the bed.

As I leapt, I caught a glimpse of something floating in the water bottle I’d left on the nightstand. I picked it up. Inside were two partial fingers. Reese’s.

At the whirr and click of Clay’s card in the lock, I raced over. I grabbed the door, pushing my way out and pressing him back into the hall.

“The mutts were here,” I said. “We’ll find a new hotel.”

He caught the door before I could close it.

“You don’t want—” I began.

He shouldered his way inside. I strode after him. He stopped in the middle of the room, his back to me. He looked at the bed, and inhaled sharply. The tendons in his neck pulsed. Another sniff. He grabbed an open drawer I hadn’t noticed earlier—the one I’d been stuffing my dirty clothes in.

He lifted a pair of blue cotton underwear. I could smell the semen from here. He threw them down and strode past me to the door. I caught his arm. He shook me off.

“Clay, don’t—”

The door banged open, hitting the wall.

“Clay—”

He was gone. I paused to get my own temper under control. Racing into the hall screaming at him wasn’t going to help. When I did hurry out, the hall was empty. I could still hear the couple fighting, the woman now protesting that she hadn’t been flirting, but simply trying to help the man find his friend’s room—he obviously hadn’t spoken good English.

Broken English? Looking for a “friend’s room”? The mutts hadn’t been here long ago, not if this couple was still arguing about it.

I raced into the stairwell after Clay. The door five floors below banged shut. I flew down and caught up with him outside. He stood on the sidewalk, nostrils flaring as he tried to catch the scent.

I walked up behind him.

“Don’t,” he growled, not turning.

Rage poured off him, his profile rock-hard, the pulse in his neck pounding.

“I’m not going to stop you,” I said. “I just want to be sure you know you’re walking into a trap.”

His shoulders stiffened.

“They broke into our room in the middle of the day,” I said. “They left Reese’s fingers in my water bottle. They jerked off in our bed and in my dirty underwear. Do you think they’re trying to scare you off?”

“No, they’re trying to piss me off.”

“As much as they possibly can. Invade and soil your territory. Insult your mate. Insult you. Then sit back and wait until you come charging after them, too enraged to see that you’re walking into a trap.”

He was breathing hard, condensation streaming through the cold air as he fought every instinct that insisted each moment he delayed was hesitation, a sign of weakness.

I reached to touch his back, then stopped myself.

I lowered my voice. “If you go after them now, you’ll have no problem finding them. They’ll have laid a clear trail leading straight to the perfect ambush spot.”

He said nothing.

“We have to pull back,” I said.

He shook his head. “I can’t ignore this. I need to—”

“—meet the challenge or they’ll think you’ve lost your edge, and they’ll come after me.”

A curt nod, his gaze still moving along the street.

“They’re giving us the best chance we’ve had to get to them,” I said. “Or at least to get a good look at them. Do you think I’d turn that down?”

His shoulders moved, barely more than a twitch, but enough to tell me I’d made my point. I laid my hand against his back for a moment. Then we set out.

The mutts had indeed left us a clear trail. And I didn’t much like where it led. Our hotel window overlooked the northwest corner of the city, and while I’d marveled at the distant view—that thrilling triumvirate of mountain, forest and sea—the closer landscape had been less inspiring.

A couple of blocks past the hotel, the city seemed to end in a wasteland of scarred and scrubby fields crossed with train tracks and dotted with industrial buildings. A flat, open basin ran from the train station to the ocean, and this was where the mutts had gone.

When the sidewalk ended, we entered no-man’s-land. The bitter wind lashed us and froze our ears until all we could hear was its howl. A faint icy drizzle rained down. The ground underfoot was slick and muddy on the surface, still frozen underneath.

“They’re going to see us coming a mile away,” I said.

“That’s likely the idea.”

“We need a plan.”

“Yep, we do.”

“And that’s my department now, isn’t it?”

He glanced over, face softening for the first time since he’d walked into our hotel room. “Yep, it is.”

“Damn.”

* * * *

Clay didn’t like my plan. When I invited him to suggest an alternative, though, he just grumbled that I was the boss. In other words, the plan was fine. He just didn’t like it.

West of the train station, we put on a performance for our hidden audience. Clay gestured for me to go wait inside the station. I argued that I wanted to stay with him. We bickered. He picked me up, set me down facing the station and gave me a slap on the ass, along with firm commands, including go, sit and stay. Being an obedient mate, I obeyed.

As Clay loped off to take care of those nasty mutts for me, I circled to the front of the station and took a seat on a raised monument displaying—according to the plaque—the first train engine used by Alaska Railroad. There I was, out in the open, where Clay couldn’t see me—a perfect lure for the mutt. Clay would follow the trail for a while, then pretend to lose it. With him out of sight, at least one of the watching mutts was sure to break cover and come after me.

Clay hated the part about using me as bait. I had to admit that even I couldn’t help thinking
Gawd, not this old trick again
. But it worked, again and again.

Give mutts the choice between attacking Clay and attacking Clay’s mate, and they’ll pick me every time. It’s not only easier; it’s going to hurt him more. Even if they can rise above that cowardly temptation, there’s one temptation they can’t fight—the siren’s allure of my incredible hotness. Okay, the siren’s allure of my incredibly hot bitch-in-heat scent.

I’d been sitting there only about five minutes when a man walked around the train station and headed toward me. I inhaled, but the wind was going the wrong way. He fit Reese’s description, though—early thirties, big and brawny, short brown hair and a square face.

My first thought was,
Oh, shit, Clay’s supposed to grab him
before
he gets to me
. My second thought was,
No problem, I can take him
. My third, as he got closer, was,
um, probably
… And my forth, when he was near enough to smell, circled back to that initial
Oh, shit
. He was human.

Apparently, my incredible hotness proved alluring to more than just werewolves these days. Or Alaska had a shortage of single women.

“Hey there,” he said. “You look cold sitting up there, all alone.”

I smiled—civil, nothing more. “I’m waiting for someone.”

“Come inside and wait. I’ll buy you a coffee.”

Espresso, I was sure. “Thanks, but my husband will be here in a minute.”

His gaze dropped to my hand, covered in a glove. Then he studied me. Whatever look a married woman is supposed to have, apparently I lacked it, because he stepped closer.

“How about lunch? There’s a great diner just up the hill. Nice and warm.”

“I’m fine. Really. Where I come from, this is a pleasant spring day.”

“And where’s that?”

Damn, I’d walked right into that conversation-prolonger.

“Canada. Anyway, I’ll just wait—Oh, hold on. My phone’s vibrating.”

I answered, talking to silence. “Sure, and where’s that?” Pause. Laugh. “Okay, then.” Pause. “Yep, I’ll be right there.”

As I hung up, I slid off the wall. “That was my husband. He needs me to check out something he wants to buy.” I rolled my eyes. “Men.”

“Where is he?” the man asked.

“Over there,” I waved at a collection of buildings, a and hoped one of them was a store. Then I started out.

“Why don’t I give you a lift?”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s a long walk.”

Clay’s piercing whistle cut through the howling wind. That was his signal that the mutts had taken the bait and that he needed his backup in place.

“Sorry, I really have to—” I tried stepping around the man, but he blocked me.