Rogue Wolf (2 page)

“Margo, I don’t know if I can…”

“I do know. I also know if you don’t—if you keep going back, if you keep letting him come back—he’s going to kill you. Go to your parents. Tell them the truth…”

“I can’t.” Weeping crested in her voice. “What will they think of me?”

“They’ll think their daughter needs help and protection, and you do.” Abuse wasn’t a human-only trait. Wolves could be equally wicked. Fortunately, most packs had a fairly brutal and efficient method for dealing with abusers. It grated on Margo that she could offer her little else.

“I don’t know.”

“I know you don’t.” The door to the shelter opened, and Cynthia’s mother stepped outside. Margo called them shortly after Cynthia’s first text and told them exactly what she planned to do.

Seeing her mother, Cynthia let out a choking sob and flew out of the car. Once in her mother’s arms, she collapsed in a fit of tears. The Hamiltons would take care of their daughter. Her wolf settled at the sight of the tender reunion unfolding before them. Satisfied, she reversed down the driveway and back onto the street. Staying wasn’t an option. Enforcers avoided roots and long relationships. As it was, she shouldn’t have involved herself in Cynthia’s issues, but Margo always paid her debts and took care of her friends.

She had so few of them, after all.

Once she was on the highway, she called Julian back. He answered on the first ring. “You took longer than an hour.”

“I was busy,” Margo said then yawned. She scrubbed a hand over her face and studied the road. At some point, she’d need to stop for food. Tonight would probably be spent in a hotel. “Who’s Salvatore Esposito?”

“He’s Alpha of the Seven Hills Pack.” A gruff laugh peppered the words, but when Julian offered no more information, Margo frowned. They had exactly five packs in the United States—Delta Crescent, Hudson River, Sutter Butte, Willow Bend and the Yukon.

“There is no Seven Hills Pack…”

“Not in the U.S.” Julian’s amusement seemed to grow with each passing moment. If he’d been in front of her, she might have slugged him. “Then again, he’s from Italy.”

“Holy shit.” A foreign Alpha in the United States? “And he wants to go to Willow Bend?” Was this some kind of coup? Mason had been a punk at times, but from all accounts he was a damn good Alpha. Willow Bend did not need that kind of grief.

“Look, as far as I know, he contacted Mason via Ryan Huston after Brett’s pack turned down his request.” Interesting word choice—Brett’s pack, not Brett himself. Margo kept the observation to herself. “Mason granted Salvatore’s request,
but
…this is a first. Europeans do not enter U.S. pack territories. So, rather than play hot potato by assigning one of his Hunters to a foreign Alpha, he wants an Enforcer to handle it.”

Smart move.
Bastard
. She considered the angles. Any member of Mason’s pack would be hard-pressed between the dance of visiting guest and loyalty to their Alpha. Throw in Salvatore Esposito being an Alpha in his own right, and the entire situation begged for trouble. “You’re sending me, why?” It couldn’t be
because she was closest, not when Philadelphia was in her rear-view mirror.

“Because you know Willow Bend—”

“Correction, I knew Willow Bend. I haven’t been home for any longer than a day or two since I was fourteen, and I haven’t set foot there since Mason killed Toman.” Mason Clayborne and she had history. Some good, mostly bad.

“Calitri and Sphinx are older school Willow Bend, and they don’t have any family left there. Hadley does, but she and her parents aren’t speaking. They asked her to come home after Mason took over, and she said no. Then her father tried to order her.” He didn’t quite sigh, but Margo grimaced.

The hardest part of being an Enforcer wasn’t hunting rogues or putting them down. Hell, it wasn’t even the inherent loneliness of being isolated from pack. The Enforcers had each other and, while they weren’t a pack
per se
, they had company if they needed it. None would be touched starved, lovers were accommodated, and friendships encouraged. They kept each other sane. No, the hardest obstacles were their families.

Families didn’t understand why they would choose to go Lone Wolf or why they preferred to live their lives away from pack structure. Margo was lucky in some respects. Her father not only understood, he’d encouraged her decision. Her mother and siblings, on the other hand…

“Are we sure we don’t have anyone else? I’m still working on these missing wolves—and Julian? Mason hates my guts.”

“They all hate us, Margo. He’ll get over it, particularly since he requested an Enforcer.” Which meant he hadn’t requested her, specifically.

“Yeah, you weren’t the one who took the seventeen-year-old kid and beat the shit out of him three days after his parents died
and
when he’d just left his pack.” Some regrets stung more than others. To that day, she hadn’t forgotten the look on his face when she’d put him down, informed him of the rules, and made it damn clear he understood she would be watching him. For the first few months, she’d been far closer than he’d likely realized. A skilled young wolf, he’d lacked seasoning and experience to cope with the initial challenges of a packless life. A point he’d proved first with his time in Hudson River and later Delta Crescent. Lone Wolves were a touchy bunch. They could hold no territory, nor make alliances or mate.

While relationships with humans weren’t covered by the rules, they were discouraged from creating permanent connections. Attachments could lead to breeding, and impregnating a human could be a death sentence for the female—as Mason learned much later.

“Margo,” Julian’s unyielding tone gentled. “I get it. You gave him a hard time when he was a kid. You taught him the lessons he needed to survive by alienating his instinctive need to latch onto another wolf. You taught him to distrust the world so he could rely on himself. It’s what we do…and he survived. He thrived. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Excluding one key piece of information, of which even Julian remained unaware. Ryan Huston, Willow Bend’s pack attorney and Mason’s father-in-law, had tasked her with Mason’s protection. She’d owed Ryan a deep debt for her survival and protection during a time when her rising dominance could have ended both her existence and cost the lives of her family members.

She repaid Ryan by protecting Mason over the years. Later, when Ryan discovered his then-human daughter Alexis carried Mason’s child, Margo protected the secret and didn’t execute Mason as their code and laws demanded.

If Julian ever learned her secret, the Enforcers would take Margo out. But the debt to Ryan had been paid. Mason survived, Alexis survived, and now they ruled the Willow Bend pack… “Fine. Text the flight information and how many wolves I’m expected to corral. What do you want me to do about the missing wolves?”

“Keep working it as much as you can. Send whatever you’ve found to Vanya. He’s on his way back from the Yukon. Those bastards are missing wolves, too.”

“I’ll take the Italian escort job over the Yukon, any day.” Prickly wolves, the Yukon pack and their Alpha.
Ugh
, the less she had to do with them the better. “So, that’s at least three packs missing wolves? You should call Serafina.”

“I doubt she’d tell me anything. Internal pack matters stay internal there. Talk to Mason if you have a chance, but your priority is a peaceful entrance and exit for the Italian Alpha. The sooner he comes and goes, the better.”

No kidding.
“Why is Esposito on his way here?”

“No clue. Whatever it is, let me know when you find out. Like I said, he sent a request to Dalton and it was denied.” Odd. It had to have come in while she was there. Course, Dalton had been less than forthcoming with her as well, so maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. “I’ll give Clayborne this, he’s had that pack less than two years and he’s willing to let another Alpha in his territory? Takes balls, Margo.”

Yes. Shifting her position in the car, she stretched. “I’ll head straight for Midway. Any info on Esposito you have would be appreciated. Is he coming in on an international flight?”

“I’ll find out. Check in when you get there…and, Margo?”

“Yes?” If Julian asked her for another favor, she’d…

“Be careful. I don’t know what’s going on, but when Alphas get together, bad shit can go down. There is a reason they send their Hunters to each other instead of meeting face-to-face.”

“Fortunately, I don’t have to kiss anyone’s ass. I just have to make sure those asses stay in one piece.” Sure. No problem. How hard could it be?

Five cups of coffee and over a thousand miles later, she waited against the wall in the international arrivals area of Midway airport. Julian came through with the name of the airline—a flight via Canada—and the time of arrival. They had no photo of the Alpha and only his name. Plenty of humans stood around holding placards with names written on them. Margo didn’t bother.

The number of scents trailing around her—from the over-perfumed to the under-bathed—threatened to give her a headache. She’d taken an hour at a hotel to shower and change into fresh clothes. Fortunately, she hadn’t bloodied any clothes on her current assignment. Jeans, boots and a denim jacket over a dark green turtleneck fit for the current weather outside. She didn’t stand out, though a number of human males gave her a lingering look. Ignoring them, she scanned the new arrivals passing through the sliding glass doors with their bags.

Arms folded, she braced one foot against the wall. More arrivals spilled through the doors into the early morning light. She dismissed three men immediately. One dripped sweat, the second dripped illness, and the third—her nostrils flared—he avoided looking at anyone. She may not know her target’s appearance, but no Alpha walked with their head down and their gaze on the path in front of them.

A collection of women came through, all chattering about the delicious passenger—his height, his accent, his eyes—on their flight. Home from a holiday it would seem, and apparently the view on the plane trumped anything they’d seen on the ground.

The doors swished apart and fresh odors wafted toward her. Sampling the air, she scented him before she saw him. The hint of sweet-floral fragrance with an element of citrus, but beneath it all a distinctly masculine bite of hot sun on fur, and something her wolf couldn’t sort out.

A stream of businessmen waded through the travelers. Their suits were a dead giveaway, though so were the harried looks, cell phones in hand and rumpled appearances. Dismissing one after another, she stilled.

Awareness swept over her and she canted her head slowly to find one man had stopped a half-dozen feet away. Well over six feet in height, he towered over her five-foot-ten frame. Jet black hair crowned a deeply tanned face. Black eyes—true black, so dark she couldn’t make out a pupil—stared at her.

More than one set of eyes in the room turned toward him, and the crowd parted to walk wide of him. No one dared invade his space.

“Hello, Mr. Esposito,” she said, barely raising her voice. If he were who she believed him to be, he’d hear her anyway. The corner of his beautifully formed mouth quirked, and he made his way toward her. He carried only one mid-sized bag and moved with a tireless grace. The group of women who’d been gushing only moments before fell silent.

Yes, definitely Alpha. He had every woman’s attention and the men who weren’t admiring him, did their damnedest to stay out of his way. Straightening, Margo ignored the faint hint of heat licking along her skin. As the distance between them closed, her wolf quieted further, watchful and wary. An unfamiliar wolf in their midst—would he be friend or foe?

“
Buongiorno, signorina
Montgomery.” Smooth. His accent stroked her senses, and she narrowed her eyes. For all the attention his looks received and the exotic bite of his scent, the handsome man before her didn’t radiate Alpha. His power didn't sweep out to encompass her like so many Alphas did on approach.

As a matter of fact— “Good morning, Mr. Esposito. Welcome to the United States.” Though the throng of the airport was heavy with new arrivals and those waiting to greet them, the crowd continued to avoid running into him. “Where is your pack?” Alphas might be the most powerful in a pack and they might rule with a velvet glove or iron fist, but they did not take sojourns into foreign lands without backup.

It wouldn’t be sane.

“They are not here,” he answered, then smiled. “You will take me to Willow Bend, yes?”

Cagey bastard.
She refused to smile, however, no matter how charming his accent sounded and regardless of the way a shiver chased along her spine when he rolled his ‘r’s. “No, I’ll put your ass back on a plane if you don’t tell me where your pack is.” A lone Alpha? No.

“It is so hard to believe I would travel without an entourage?”

Holding his gaze proved a challenge, but he was not her Alpha. As an Enforcer, she bowed to no one. Keeping her posture relaxed, she raised her eyebrows. “No, not at all hard to believe if your wolves are elsewhere causing mischief.”

Pursing his lips, he squinted briefly. “Mischief—trouble? You’re worried my pack is doing something they shouldn’t?”

“We can stand here all day, Mr. Esposito. Until you tell me where your pack is, how many you brought, you’re not going anywhere. I won’t lead a Trojan Horse into any pack. If you’re a planning a coup or other trouble for any of the U.S. packs, you’ll have a problem with me.
Capiche
?”

His expression tightened briefly. “You do not carry the scent of pack,” he said as though it were a puzzle.

“No, I don’t. I don’t need to in order to deal with you.”

Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, and her wolf shifted within her restlessly. No power leaked from the presence within the man standing before her, but she and her wolf both knew he weighed, measured, and studied them. After a long moment, his lids dropped to half-closed and he took a step forward. The nearness amped her wariness. “Would it suffice for me to offer my word that they are performing no mischief?”