Living Extinct (18 page)

“Their previous pack leader traded information. From what I heard, he ran on both sides of the fence.” They’d used the pack leader a time or two themselves, since the old werewolf had connections that ran throughout the country. Steve had liked the guy.

“Less than a year ago some young punk took him out. He’s pack leader now and I’m willing to bet you he’s not going to be a lick of help.”

93

Lorie O’Clare

“Then what are we doing here?” Jeff glanced around the large, well-manicured yard. “And do we have to lay on the horn to get this pack’s attention? You know they can smell us.”

“It’s an old trick.” And a rather overused one. “They let us sit out here and sweat while they watch and sniff us out. Some werewolves think that gives them the upper hand.”

“You wouldn’t think they’d want to get on our bad side.” Jeff put his hands on his hips, glaring at the house. “Not to mention they howled for us, not the other way around.”

“Kissing tail probably. It doesn’t mean they view us as alphas.” Steve reminded himself how young Jeff was. His partner still had that omnipotent attitude that WA often gave a werewolf.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass how they view us. They’re going to show some fucking respect.” Jeff marched across the circular drive to the front door.

Steve shook his head and followed Jeff toward the mansion. His partner banged on the door, adrenaline hanging heavy in the heat. Barely a minute passed before a young werewolf, possibly in his early twenties, opened the door.

“You’re from WA?” he asked, cocking his head and squinting at the two of them.

“I’m Jeff Brim and this is my partner, Steve Muller.” Jeff unclipped his badge from his belt and flashed it in the young werewolf’s face. “We’re here to see your pack leader.”

Jeff believed the same thing Steve did. This pup wasn’t their leader. The young werewolf reeked of nervousness—definitely no alpha. He backed away from the door, holding on to it as Steve followed Jeff into the well air-conditioned home.

There were other werewolves inside. Steve quickly sniffed out the scent of several of them farther inside the large den. Nervous energy filled the high-ceilinged alcove.

Either a heated argument had recently occurred or the pack members were worried about something. He guessed it might be a bit of both. Either way, it didn’t smell good.

The large entryway opened into a sunken living room, and the hallway in front of them disappeared toward the other end of the house. There were several closed doors, all painted a glossy off-white. The house was clean, almost too clean. More than likely this place was used for meetings and no one actually lived here. He glanced up a long, wide staircase before turning his attention to the young werewolf.

“Is your pack leader here?” he asked.

The werewolf closed the door, shutting out the suffocating heat. He gave Steve an apologetic look and shook his head.

“I thought he’d be back by now, but he’s not. The werewolves we contacted you about have disappeared and Darrell has organized a run to search for them.”

“Who are the werewolves you wanted us to know about?” Steve asked. Another thing he didn’t like about WA was being sent across country with no more information 94

Living Extinct

than to contact this pack about renegade werewolves. Like running in the dark kept them more passive.

The young werewolf glanced from one of them to the other and then scratched his chin. He hesitated and his thick black eyebrows met together under his wrinkled brow while he gave something some thought. Steve watched him closely as the salty smell of nervousness grew in the air.

“Darrell would want to tell you himself. But you’re probably in a hurry or something, right?” It was as if he’d fought for reasoning to explain the situation to them himself.

“Wasting WA’s time doesn’t go well for a pack.” Jeff puffed out his chest and glared at the young werewolf.

The young werewolf shifted from one foot to the other and then cursed under his breath. His nervousness smelled like rank sweat in a dirty locker room. Steve frowned, thinking the hot air outside would be better than this.

“Okay. Follow me.”

Steve was damned glad they were getting out of the entryway. As they headed down the hallway, leaving the stench of nerves behind, a variety of other smells tickled his nose. Someone was eating a pizza somewhere. The scents of a couple of werewolves and what smelled like a bitch lingered behind one door. Exotic plants in ornate pots were at a crossway in the hall. Their sweet scents temporarily drowned out any other aromas from the house. This was a damned good ploy from someone who wanted to distract guests from gathering too much information by smelling the place out. A ploy he doubted the new pack leader would have had the sense to think of.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs behind them. The three werewolves turned at the same time a large, well-built Mexican werewolf appeared behind them. His anger put Steve on red alert.

“Jorge. I need to talk to you now!” The werewolf grew in size as he spoke, his black eyes flickering with silver.

“Nick, these are—”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass who they are,” Nick growled, not giving either of them his attention. He cleared the distance between them and Jorge stepped backward. “Did Darrell go after that Aldo werewolf and his bitch?”

“Dante Aldo?” Jeff asked.

Nick narrowed his gaze, glaring. He stood several inches taller than Jeff and sized him up with a quick glance.

“Who the fuck are you?” he snarled.

“Jeff Brim with Werewolf Affairs.” Jeff had never bellied up to any werewolf, no matter their size.

Nick didn’t look impressed—not in the least. He glared at Steve and then back at Jorge.

95

Lorie O’Clare

Steve needed confirmation of who the bitch was with Dante, but he smelled the truth. The back of his neck itched with excitement that they were closing in on Moira Tangaree. It would have been nice of WA to let them know they had a lead on the pretty bitch. But he’d wait it out, see what else they learned as this oversized werewolf lost his cool with Jorge. He’d gathered more information over the years staying patient than he had jumping in with all four paws.

“Darrell’s a fucking pup to let Aldo escape. You realize who that bitch was who was with him, don’t you?”

“I have my suspicions.” Jorge was impressive with his calm tone.

Nick looked like he would break the pup’s neck without a moment’s notice. Jorge managed to look around his pack member and nodded at Steve and Jeff.

“In here,” he said, opening the door next to him.

There was some impressive hardware in the room. Security monitors were lined on shelves on one wall, images of the front, side and back yards displayed. Steve noted several computers, and one that appeared not to be hooked up, sitting on the floor.

Jorge pushed a chair to the side and leaned over a desk littered with wrinkled fast food bags and empty paper cups with straws that had been nibbled to an unusable point at the end. He moved the mouse to wake up the screen and then typed in a password quickly.

The smell of nervousness had faded. Jorge was obviously in his element in front of the computer.

“Here are pictures of our guests,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Steve but then looking back at the computer. “They asked to stay with our pack for a few days, so I don’t understand why they ran.”

A rush of excitement made Steve’s bones tingle. He stared at the pictures of Dante Aldo and Moira Tangaree on the computer screen.

“I know why they ran.” Nick walked over to the window, his broad back blocking what little light streamed through the almost-closed blinds. He parted them with his fingers and peered outside. “Darrell just got an e-mail from one of the werewolves up north that he used to run with. How much is the bitch worth to you?”

He turned around and pinned Jeff and then Steve with a hard stare.

“You read Darrell’s e-mail?” Jorge asked, his jaw dropping.

Steve learned a long time ago that when a werewolf wanted to barter, trying to play him for a fool was more of a waste of time than it was worth. Nick’s hardened expression told him enough about the werewolf. Whatever beef he had with his pack leader didn’t matter. It was none of Steve’s business. What mattered was that the werewolf had information, possibly enough to end this chase and allow him to put in his paperwork for retirement from WA.

96

Living Extinct

“WA doesn’t make deals.” Jeff stepped in front of him, staring the large Mexican werewolf down. “If you know where Moira Tangaree and Dante Aldo are, it would be in your best interest to tell us now.”

“Oh really?” Nick drawled. “I don’t do threats, little pup.”

“And I don’t play games.” Jeff pointed a finger at Nick. “Now you’re going to—”

“Jeff. That’s enough.” Steve figured if he didn’t intervene, his partner risked losing his finger. “I’ll handle this.”

Outrage filled the room quickly. Jeff was a good werewolf, but like the Mexican werewolf whose teeth grew while Steve watched, he’d jump into a fight that would get them nowhere.

Jeff turned on him, growling from a mixture of humiliation and anger that he was too young to control.

“We could put him on a chain for talking to us like that,” he snarled.

Steve nodded. “Yup.” He looked at Nick. “That pretty little bitch who was here could be in trouble. That’s why we’re here. I don’t know what you know about the werewolf with her, Dante Aldo.”

“I know plenty,” Jorge spoke up, quickly switching screens and then pointing at Dante’s image when he turned and looked wide-eyed at each of them. “He doesn’t run with a pack, but if he’s called in, he can wipe out a pack that is causing trouble. There’s a list here of all the packs he’s wiped out.”

Most of which were probably urban myth. Steve wouldn’t argue the point though.

At the moment, it served his purpose.

“And the bitch with him isn’t running with him by choice. He stole her,” Steve told them.

“She didn’t seem too unhappy to be with him from what I smelled,” Nick offered, his mouth twisting into what might be a grin. Steve wasn’t sure.

“Trust me on this. Her pack and den are frantic about her.” It was a lie but he relied on these werewolves to have some sense of duty and loyalty in them.

He wasn’t off base. Nick straightened, giving Steve his attention. “She didn’t give any indication that she was anything but happy. But then she never said that much and some females always smell like that.”

That wasn’t good news. It hadn’t occurred to him that Aldo might want her for a mate.

And he’d been an idiot not to consider the possibility before now. Maybe the agency had gotten to him more than he’d realized. Maybe years and years of dealing with backstabbing werewolves had made him callous. Was it possible that the rogue werewolf simply found a female that appealed to him so much he was willing to steal her from GWAR?

He looked at Nick. “It’s worth a lot to us to find her. What can you tell us?”

97

Lorie O’Clare

“Earlier today we got word from the pack leader to the west of us,” Nick said and then paused, glancing at Jeff as if he didn’t trust him.

“And?” Steve prompted, bringing the werewolf’s attention back to him.

“Word was out that Dante Aldo was here and it didn’t smell good to them. I told Darrell he was an idiot to let the werewolf stay here. He reeks of trouble.” Nick crossed his bulky arms over his chest, scowling.

There was no love lost between this werewolf and his pack leader. Again, not Steve’s problem.

“Then just a bit ago, a pack up in the Rockies sends word that they got trouble with another pack pushing into their territory. They heard Dante Aldo was in these parts and wanted him.”

“What pack was this?” Steve fought to keep his excitement at bay. He could smell success just around the corner. Another day at the most and he’d have the little bitch in his paws.

* * * * *

Rose Silverman sat quietly until the pack meeting ended. None of this sounded good. None of it. The tension and testosterone filled the room enough to make her gag.

The way most of the bitches shifted in their chairs around her let her know they didn’t like this either. Almost all of the cubs, who were usually restless by this point, sat quietly and stared at their sires and the pack leader while plans were made.

“Why do you have to go on the run too?” she asked her mate after the meeting ended.

The sound of chairs moving and conversations breaking out filled the room with noise, making it easy for her question to not be heard by anyone other than Bruce Silverman. He looked down at her with exasperation.

“Would you have me look like a coward staying with the bitches?” he hissed.

“Of course not.” She wished sometimes he would be more of a coward. But not her Bruce. Anytime there was a problem, he always jumped in with claws extended. More than once she reminded herself that was what made her fall in love with him. “It sounds like there are a lot of those
lunewulf
s though. If they are attacking our territory…” She was howling at a brick wall and she knew it. Her mate’s eyes were already streaked with silver. Determination added to the worry lines around his mouth.

He couldn’t wait to get out there with the rest of them and fight for their land. That was her Bruce. “Just watch your tail, wolf man.”

He pulled her into a rough hug, his massive warm body still making her hot with need after all these years. Her heart ached for him, though, and he hadn’t even left her yet. Werewolves would die tonight. Over half the males in her pack were headed out on a run to defend the land they raised their cubs on. Their own little corner of the world.

She’d been whelped in these mountains, and so had Bruce. Most of them had. It was 98

Living Extinct

gorgeous country and worth fighting for. Those
lunewulf
s had no right sniffing their way into her pack’s territory.

Rose watched Bruce toss their son into the air when they walked outside with the rest of their pack. A cold breeze came down off the mountain, full of the fresh smell of pine. The scent that always lightened her mood did nothing to ease her nerves tonight.