Hour of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #1) (43 page)

normal as some bizarre furred-thingie family with two husbands could be.

With a ready-made daughter as part of the package. That was like…like…she didn‘t even

have the words. Jamie had actually known about Alec and Calum‘s plans and cheered them on.

She‘d immediately started calling Vic MomVee, all one word. Vic smiled, her eyes stinging. Hell of a name. Funny how she‘d felt so proud at earning the rank of sergeant. Yet this mother title was even more rewarding since Jamie‘s love had come with it. Vic couldn‘t get from one side of

the house to the other without collecting a hug from the girl.

Or from the men either. She‘d married two men. Or would that be two cats? That Mother goddess of theirs must have a truly odd idea of humor.

Then again, maybe She just had a well-developed sense of fun. Vic shook her head. A few

days ago, Alec and Calum had woken her and Jamie up in the middle of the night to play in the

forest—pouncing, stalking, and hunting. And how cool was that? Made summer picnics seem so

yesterday.

She glanced at her watch and grimaced. Yanking on a white shirt, she grabbed a black jacket

and ran.

Ten minutes later, she eased into the police station. With any luck, Alec wouldn‘t notice—

He looked up from his paperwork and fixed her with a dark green glare. ―Miz Waverly-

McGregor, you‘re late.‖

She couldn‘t remember the last time she‘d arrived late for anything. ―Um. I‘m sorry. I ran

into a …‖ She felt a flush creep up her face. She‘d worked evening patrol all week because of the

movie shoots, and had still been asleep when Calum came home for lunch. A bed was a very

indefensible location, and his so-called quickie hadn‘t been quick at all. ―I guess I lost track of the time. It won‘t happen again.‖

The frown on Alec‘s face was belied by the amusement in his eyes. ―I realize you‘re a

newly-wed, but this department expects its law enforcement personnel to show up on time. Our

citizens deserve no less.‖

―Yes, sir.‖

He finally grinned. ―I can‘t imagine what could have happened to make you lose track of

time—except Calum called to explain.‖

She stared at him. He knew? ―You sadistic dirtbag.‖ She tossed her jacket over a hook on

the wall and took a seat beside the desk. ―I thought you were seriously pissed-off.‖

He ran a finger down her cheek, around a mouth swollen from Calum‘s mind-blowing

kisses. ―Oh, but I am. Angry that I didn‘t get a nooner. You‘d better plan on placating me

tonight, or you‘ll be in big trouble.‖

―Oooh. Please, Mr. Sheriff, I‘ll do anything.‖ Her blood heated as she thought of a few

things she could do. She licked her lips, and her voice turned husky. ―Anything.‖

His eyes grew heavy lidded, and then he snatched his hand back. ―You were sent by the

devil, weren‘t you? Toying with us weak-minded men, leaving us helpless in your wake.‖

She grinned. ―Yep. That‘s the idea. So, what‘s on the schedule today?‖

―First, join Jenkins and practice patrolling in a car. Then you‘re on downtown duty after

five.‖

Watching over those empty-headed movie people. She sighed. ―Yes, sir.‖

* * *

Alec glanced up when Calum strolled into the office with a manila envelope. Leaning back

in his chair, Alec studied his brother with pleasure. Calum had never looked better. His eyes had

cleared of the last lingering grief. ―Being lifemated agrees with you.‖

―Indeed.‖

―But I‘ll ask that you stop making my deputy late.‖ Alec used his foot to shove the spare

chair over. ―What brings you to my illustrious establishment?‖

―Two things. First, Tynan O‘Connolly sent more information. He managed to get some

background on Vidal. Brawd, he grew up in Gray Cliff.‖

―Gray Cliff?‖ Alec frowned. The name seemed familiar. ―The town in Rainier territory that

the hellhounds decimated a few years ago?‖

―Precisely. Vidal moved away long before it disappeared, but I would guess that‘s where he

learned of the Daonain.‖ Calum‘s voice turned grim. ―I don‘t know what set him in search of us

now.‖

―We may never find out. I‘ll settle for him being dead. What‘s the other thing?‖

Calum‘s eyes turned cold. ―Swane is here.‖

Alec rose to his feet, fury rising like a forest fire. ―In town?‖

―Aye. Jamie caught a trace of his scent when the movie crew was filming, but too many

people were there. What better way to hide than in a crowd of people?‖

―Tonight‘s the last night for the shoot—they‘re leaving tomorrow morning.‖ Catch him. Kill

him. Alec forced the rage down. ―Is she okay?‖

Calum‘s words were tight. ―She doesn‘t want to hide. She wants it over with. She‘s tired of

the restrictions we‘ve put on her and she said‖—he shook his head—―ordered, actually, that she

wanted to play rabbit to lure out the wolf.‖

By Herne, they‘d raised a strong female. ―You agree?‖

―Not in the least.‖ Calum rubbed his neck. ―But she has a point. This way, we‘d have control

in springing the trap. If they remain at large, some other time they might get lucky.‖

Alec nodded. ―Then we‘ll set it up.‖

―Don‘t tell Victoria.‖

―Why not?‖ The memory of a snarling cougar came to mind. Twice Vixen had acted—

without thinking—to protect Jamie. ―I see your point.‖

* * *

Wells considered contacting her by phone. But no, the good sergeant was too adept at

sliding past the truth. She should be, Wells thought with a bitter smile. He‘d trained her.

A face-to-face. He hoped she had answers that would satisfy him.

After parking, he wandered down Cold Creek‘s Main Street, pleased with the old-fashioned

street lamps that lit the sidewalk nicely. He window-shopped in the small stores that had closed

for the night. A movie shoot had set up at the end of the block, and he deliberately moved away

from the crowd. Eventually, he crossed to the center of the street and took a seat on an ironwork

bench. People-watching was one of his favorite activities.

There she was.

Clad in a khaki uniform, looking very cop-like, Sergeant Morgan walked her beat, watching

the people, alert to everything going on. She would make a fine police officer.

He saw the almost unnoticeable hesitation in her stride as she spotted him. She moved out of

the light, so he couldn‘t evaluate whether she felt pleasure—or dismay—at his presence. When

he ignored her, she did the same. Pride warmed his chest; she hadn‘t lost her skills. She was one

of the best.

He stood and stretched, checked his watch, and then walked down the street toward her. He

passed her on the sidewalk, eyes flicking to Angie‘s diner. There he could wait in comfort until

she found an appropriate time to meet him.

* * *

Full dark. Showtime. Swane smoothed his short beard, tugged his bus driver‘s uniform

straight, and walked away from the vehicle like a man needing supper. Behind him the filming

continued, and he almost grinned. The acting in the romance wasn‘t bad; Tony Vidal might

actually be making a blockbuster movie. Wouldn‘t that surprise the asshole?

If he lived long enough to see it. Swane snorted in disgust. He‘d finally figured out Vidal‘s

problem. The shaking hands, his difficulty controlling his anger, choking on a drink, his weird

gait. Parkinson‟s—like Swane‘s uncle who‘d died in a nursing home. Vidal wanted to become a

monster to keep from turning into a vegetable and would kill anyone in his path to do it.

Swane cracked his knuckles. Not a problem. But after the bastard got his wish, Swane would

grab the half-a-mil coming to him and quietly disappear into a third-world country. Maybe he‘d

take his own pet pussy. Rip her claws out—and teeth too—and she‘d do anything he wanted. He

hardened and had to stop and adjust himself.

Avoiding the pools of light, Swane worked his way over to where the ‗extras‘ from the town

waited for their cue. Looked like most of the people in Cold Creek. They‘d practiced their part

several times last night until the director let them go, and tonight would be the take. According to

the skit, when the villain started shooting at the hero, the panicking mob would flee through

several streets. The very dark streets.

Nerves on edge, he watched for any mountain lion shapes and shadows as he walked to his

position.

After the rehearsals last night, he knew his target‘s route. This time, as the small group of

fleeing extras came past him, he‘d trank her and toss her in the car. The trunk was already open.

He‘d stop on the road and administer a longer-acting dose, and be at the farmhouse shortly after.

He might even leave her sedated long enough to…enjoy himself before getting down to work.

Fuck yes. There was nothing like the young ones with their high screams and terrified eyes.

The sound of a pistol split the night air, then several more shots. Screaming. Yelling. The

filming had begun. The people scattered into the various streets. They‘d been told to keep

running since filming would continue here and there.

No camera was set up on this street. Vidal had been clear about his requirements with the

director.

Swane listened, and a second later, the kid appeared out of the darkness. She ran toward

him, trying to look afraid, not very effectively. That would change. A few more steps and

then…she stopped dead. Sniffing and looking around. What the fuck?

Whatever. She was close enough. He aimed and heard a growl. Before he could turn, jaws

closed over his hand. His skin ripped, his fingers breaking with little snapping sounds. He

screamed and struck at the animal. Another huge, monstrous dog sprang on him.

Swane landed hard on his back. As he tried to rise, teeth snapped close to his neck. He froze,

barely breathing. Spittle hit him in the face as the dog‘s fangs hovered an inch from his throat.

They weren‘t dogs. Wolves. Werewolves. The monsters weren‘t just mountain lions.

Swane‘s bladder released.

From the sidewalk, the girl watched him, then looked past him.

Too terrified to move, Swane rolled his eyes in that direction. Two men were crossing the

street. The cop. The girl‘s father.

Fuck.

* * *

Vic didn‘t slow her pace, but her heart hammered like a ‗ma deuce‘ machine gun. Wells!

Here in her town. The thrill of seeing him had lasted one whole second before turning to worry.

And dread. After some hard calculation, she straightened her shoulders and followed him into

Angie‘s Diner. I can do this.

Supper rush had ended, and only two men in overalls and work boots occupied stools at the

counter. Wells had taken a table near the corner, and he motioned for her to join him. Her

footsteps on the old wooden floors sounded like a drum roll of doom as she walked into the

room.

―Vicki, dear!‖ The owner, Angie O‘Neal, came out from behind the long counter, hands

outstretched in greeting. ―I didn‘t get a chance to tell you how pleased we are for you and the

men. You‘ve been good for them, and for little Jamie.‖

Oh, this was so not the time for this. Vic forced a smile and let the woman squeeze her

hands. ―Thank you, Angie. That‘s sweet of you.‖

―What can I get you? The special tonight is meat loaf and mashed potatoes.‖

―Just coffee, thanks. I‘m meeting a friend,‖ Vic added, nodding toward Wells.

He stood as she walked up to the table, politely pulling out a chair for her. Attired in jeans,

T-shirt and a dark brown corduroy jacket, he‘d dressed to fit in. They waited until Angie had set

two cups and a pot of coffee on their table and returned to her counter.

Face impassive, he studied her with clear blue eyes, then nodded. ―You‘re looking well,

Sergeant. Very healthy, in fact.‖

―Thank you, sir.‖

―I was in the area and had a notion to see how you‘re doing. Have you adapted to civilian

life?‖

In the area? Sure, you were. She summoned a smile. ―I think so. It‘s been harder than I

thought in some ways.‖ There was something wrong here. His expression and body language

were...off.

―I‘m not surprised.‖ He changed subjects. ―As you requested, I investigated the ex-marine

named Swane.‖

―I—I told you that the locals took care of it.‖ She realized her mistake immediately.

His eyes turned cold. ―But they didn‘t, Morgan. The homeless crimes are unsolved, and

Swane isn‘t in custody. In fact, they don‘t have his name at all in conjunction with the case.‖

Oh shit, she was screwed.

―Your Swane is an ‗enforcer‘ who works for a Tony Vidal. So I checked out Vidal. Typical

mobster with some odd interests.‖

She kept her eyes down, pretending to watch her coffee. Pupil dilation, eye movements—

Wells could read the smallest flicker. ―Really.‖ How much did the spymaster know?

―He‘s investigating rumors of people transforming into mountain lions.‖

Worse and worse. She turned her shock into amusement. ―Excuse me? Mountain lions?‖

―Odd isn‘t it? But about two months ago, he captured a young man…who transformed into a

mountain lion when tortured. Vidal wants to know how to create more monsters. That is where

using the homeless as specimens came into play.‖

―Are you serious?‖ Please, don‟t take this story seriously. Laugh, dammit. She saw her

coffee lapping at the sides of the cup—her hands were shaking. Moving her hands back, she

exhaled the anxiety out, inhaled calmness.

―Oh yes. He took recordings of the transformations.‖ Well‘s lips turned up. ―Keeps them on