Hour of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #1) (47 page)

―She saved Jamie that day,‖ Calum put in softly. He could never forget that. ―But when we

caught her the night of the Gathering, she lied. She told us she was looking for you, Thorson. Not

that she was investigating shifters.‖

―There‘s no law against killing two birds with one paw,‖ Thorson admitted, the growl gone

from his voice. ―I do believe Lachlan gave her that task. There was no lie in her scent—or her

sorrow.‖

Calum thought back to that night in Thorson‘s home where Victoria had first told them how

Lachlan died. Her grief had been real. ―Aye.‖

―My boy…he‘d have been terrified of exposing us,‖ Thorson said. ―He probably made her

promise to keep silent.‖

―But she‘s an agent for the CIA. She admitted that, and we know Wells is her handler.‖

Calum‘s brows drew together. ―So this spy has just found out about creatures she‘d never seen

before. What‘s her first action?‖

Alec‘s mouth twisted. ―Tell her boss.‖

―No, dammit,‖ Thorson snapped. His eyes had brightened. ―Stupid cub. Are we flooded with

government agents?‖

―No,‖ Alec said slowly. ―Aside from Vidal‘s men, only Wells showed up.‖

Calum leaned on the counter for support. ―Could she have acted independently? Checked us

out on her own?‖

―You two know her better than I do,‖ Thorson said. ―Would that little werecat go running to

her boss with a fairytale story? Especially if she promised to keep us a secret?‖

Calum remembered when Jamie was two. ― Do it myself, Daddy.” Victoria would have been

much, much worse. ―No. I have a feeling she‘d felt torn between her duties even before she

turned shifter.‖ He remembered her careful questions in Thorson‘s house, and her admission, “If

I thought you were dangerous, I‟m not sure what I‟d do.”

―But Wells said she‘d get a medal for the information. That doesn‘t sound like someone on

our side.‖

―I talked to Angie today.‖ By Herne, he was still missing a piece of the bloody puzzle. ―And

this is what I want you to hear, Joe. I fear my own desires might affect my judgment,‖ he

admitted.

Thorson nodded. ―She‘s your mate, Cosantir. You cannot help but be affected. Go on.‖

―Angie said Victoria and her boss had talked very quietly. Then Victoria stood up and shook

her head as if she‘d refused something. The man was furious. Angie was heading over there—

right before Wells raised his voice—because she thought he might hurt Victoria.‖

―Vicki turned him down,‖ Thorson said, massaging the old wound on his shoulder. ―Just like

she told you.‖

―Calum, I know you want… Brawd, she let him go free,‖ Alec whispered. His face looked

like stone, hardened with pain. ―She chose him over us. You have no choice; she has to die.‖

I shouldn‟t have discussed this with him here. Calum squeezed his shoulder. Could either of

them survive the death of their lifemate?

―When I wandered the forest, I wondered where she might run to for help.‖ Thorson‘s gaze

rested on the picture of his grandson. ―You know, she told me once she didn‘t have anyone left

either.‖

No family. But surely someone so loving as Victoria would have found a substitute… Deep

in his chest, hope flickered to life as he finally scented the right trail. ―Alec,‖ Calum said, his

voice hoarse. ―We watched them through the windows before we jumped. Remember the look on

his face?‖

Alec frowned, and then his eyes narrowed. ―She‘d cut him loose. They talked. And he

looked… His eyes were red as if he wanted to cry. He wasn‘t looking at her like an employer or

a lover either.‖ Alec rubbed his hands over his face. ―And from the way she reacted to us hurting

him, she loves him. Hell, he‘s probably like her daddy, and we wanted to do a mind-wipe on

him.‖

―We didn‘t leave her many options, did we?‖

―Herne, how could we have been so stupid?‖ Light bloomed in Alec‘s eyes as he reached the

same conclusion as Calum. ―But if he‘s family, sharing information with him doesn‘t break the

Law.‖

Calum smiled. ―Aye. Family can share.‖

Thorson barked a laugh, then jerked his head toward the door. ―Cosantir. Cahir. Please fetch

my granddaughter and bring her home.‖

* * *

Fulfilling Thorson‘s command wasn‘t as easy as it had sounded, Alec thought, over a week

later. The Vixen had disappeared as if she‘d never existed. Well, that wasn‘t surprising,

considering she knew the Daonain would kill her. Alec put out an APB, used every legal and

illegal method he knew to track her. Nothing. That damned spy-boss had trained her well.

The shorter days of winter had turned gray and miserable, and he wanted her with an ache

that grew steadily worse. Although he and Calum tried to keep up a cheerful front for Jamie‘s

sake, they didn‘t succeed very well, and she was pining too.

Last week, they‘d discovered exactly who Vicki‘s handler was. She‘d made one slip in

calling him by name.

Human channels of communication were too risky, but Calum had contacted Daonain on the

east coast and arranged for the OtherFolk to leave a message for the man in his old Victorian

house. House-brownies weren‘t averse to making calls when the bribe was big enough.

Alec had to wonder how the agent had reacted to finding a note on his kitchen table in his

well-secured home.

No word, so far, but if he really cared for her like a father…

An hour later, the door of his office opened.

Alec‘s pen dropped as Calum walked in, followed by the handler. ―Wells,‖ Alec said in a

hoarse voice.

Wells pulled a chair next to the desk, seated himself, and smoothed his dark gray suit. ―You

wanted to talk. I prefer to speak in person.‖

―Right.‖ Alec glanced at Calum. Where to start? ―We‘ve been trying to locate Vicki.‖

A glimmer of amusement showed in Wells‘ pale blue eyes. ―The Sergeant rarely sits still

long enough for someone to shoot at her.‖

Calum poured them all coffee from the battered coffeemaker in the corner and set a cup in

front of Wells. ―You seem the type to take it black.‖

―Very perceptive.‖ He leaned forward, his eyes like blue ice. ―Why‘d you change your mind

about her, might I ask?‖

―We managed to put together some of her actions, her motivations,‖ Calum said smoothly.

He gave Wells a level gaze. ―Your offering her a medal for her information came close to

earning her a death sentence. I hope that gives you a sense of satisfaction.‖

Wells paled at the cold statement of truth. His fingers closed around the coffee cup and

opened. ―I didn‘t realize that until…afterward. I‘ve handled it—her—badly.‖

Wells versus the Cosantir. I should take bets on the winner, Alec thought nastily. Then

again, didn‘t women tend to mate with men like their fathers? He buried most of his irritation. ―If

that‘s so, maybe now we can stop playing these asinine games.‖

―Not yet. The Sergeant would get annoyed if I was mistaken and helped you—whatever you

are—to hunt her down,‖ Wells said and looked at Calum. ―Why do you want Vic back?‖

He answered simply, ―I love her.‖

Wells‘ gaze turned to Alec.

Over the last week, he‘d tried not to think of her, at least during the day. The tiny pebbles of

memories—her laugh, her flowing grace, her scent—could so easily turn into an avalanche—the

way she moved under him in the night, how she bit her lips as she studied the police manual, the

emptiness of their home without her. As with Calum, the answer was simple, ―I love her.‖

―She is, essentially, my daughter.‖ Wells wrapped long fingers around his cup as if his

hands were cold. ―I would almost prefer you to be hunting her than to want her as your own.‖

To Alec‘s shock, Calum actually growled.

A hint of a smile crossed Wells‘ face. ―But she loves you both, unworthy as you are.‖

―She said that?‖ Alec asked, the question escaping before he thought.

―Oh, yes, that very night.‖ Wells grimaced. ―In the same conversation where she made me

give my word. I vowed to—‖ he shifted to an obvious quote, ― „— never ever, reveal, by any

means whatsoever, anything about the shifters or anything that could lead to the shifters.‟”

Calum raised his eyebrows. ―She threatened you?‖

―Worse. She cried.‖

―Ah.‖ Calum sighed. ―She might as well cut your heart out with that knife of hers; it would

hurt less.‖

Wells nodded, his eyes on the far wall. ―I‘ve never broken my word in my life, and at my

age, I‘m not about to start. Your people have nothing to fear from me.‖

―Or anyone else?‖ Calum asked.

―At the moment, there is no interest and no information about you that I can discover.‖

Wells moved his shoulders. ―How long that might last is not up to me.‖

―Good enough,‖ Alec said.

―I do have one remaining question,‖ Calum said dryly. ―Do you happen to know where we

can find our lifemate?‖

―No. I don‘t.‖ Wells‘ face turned bleak. ―I haven‘t been able to locate her either.‖

Her paws took her south, and the rest of her agreed with the destination. She wasn‘t sure

exactly how long she‘d been in the forest now. The first week or so seemed a blur. Every time

she‘d change back to human, all the pain would return, and she‘d simply kneel and cry like some

abandoned baby.

But her grief had slowly eased, and now she‘d shift to human during the day, sit in the sun,

and think. Over the days, she worked through her choices.

She had a real tactical problem—how to keep the Daonain from killing her—that couldn‘t

be solved until she answered the tougher question: Go back or not?

Oh, tough decision. She was a damned brave soldier. Yeah, shoot her to pieces, even kill

her? No problem. Walk into a firefight? You bet.

But risk her heart? Fuck that. Talk about a scaredy-cat. Like a real coward, she hadn‘t even waited for the battle to start. Hell, she had run at the first artillery fire. But soldiers had been

known to desert the field of battle, and then manage to get control of themselves. To

courageously return to the fight.

Could she?

The safest choice was to stay away. Live as an outlaw in the forests, or stay in the human

world and hide her animal half. She could manage. Wells would help, even move her to a far-

away country if needed. She‘d lived undercover for years. Nothing new.

Or she could return. So, so much scarier. The physical risk: she could die, and —even

worse—Alec or Calum might be the ones who killed her. Yeah, ugly outcome. But death was

nothing new.

What really scared her spitless was the thought of fighting for the life—the love—she

wanted. Of opening herself up to being hurt emotionally. Because—she took a hard breath—

those two men could hurt her worse than even dying.

If it had been someone besides Calum and Alec in that restaurant, would she have run when

Wells made her look like a traitor? Hell no.

If it hadn‘t been her lovers treating her like the bad guy in the farmhouse, would she have

given up so easily? Or would she have told Wells to leave and stayed to battle it out?

With anyone else, she‘d beat the crap out of them if they judged her without giving her a

chance to speak. No matter how fucking overwhelming the evidence was. But because it was

Alec and Calum, she‘d caved, making herself look all the more guilty.

Why?

Because she didn‘t believe she deserved their love. Or the life they wanted to give her. Her

stupid little subconscious had decided that no one could really love her enough to listen and work

things out. After all, they must know how unworthy she was, how damaged.

Her subconscious needed to get its ass kicked.

But it had taken a while to see the idiocy of her behavior and then to admit that Alec and

Calum really did love her. She hadn‘t put on an act. They knew her well. Maybe not her whole

background, but definitely her personality, flaws and all. They loved all of her as she did them.

And she wanted them—everything—back again.

So she‘d headed south. Best case scenario: they‘d let her explain. They‘d understand—and

maybe even apologize for jumping to conclusions—and take her home. She‘d love them and

Jamie and…her chest went tight…and someday, might perhaps have a baby with them. Or a

litter.

Worst case: she‘d die.

She‘d come up with a plan: walk her ass into the center of Cold Creek, create a scene—

considering she‘d lack any clothing, that shouldn‘t be difficult—and demand to talk with Calum

and Alec. They couldn‘t kill a naked woman in front of the town, not when a whole bunch of the

spectators would be human.

And she‘d stand there and—quietly—tell them everything. What she had and hadn‘t done,

how she hadn‘t known what to do, about how Wells had given his word and that she‘d kill him

personally if he broke it. Not that he ever would, but they couldn‘t know that. She‘d promise to

give them a ka-zillion babies if that‘s what they wanted. She‘d beg forgiveness.

If they were fair—since they were men, fair wasn‘t a foregone conclusion—they‘d

acknowledge making a few mistakes themselves. She growled as she loped through the forest.

Yeah, they could have given her a chance to explain, and worked with her on the Wells problem.

But nooo, just had to jump to conclusions. Sure, she‘d punched their paranoid hide-from-the-

government hot button, but still.

So walk right into the firing zone, make herself a target, and hope for the best. One major