The Alpha's Fight: Huntsville Pack Book 3 (9 page)

Ryder could picture the smirk that went with the tone of his alpha’s voice. Mason practiced condescension like a religion. The idea that the sheriff would buy him a beer was just the right button to push, and he had no doubt that Talon had done it in a deliberate attempt to protect him.

With a sigh of relief, Ryder sat back in his chair and thanked the moon the sheriff liked him more than he liked Mason. It had been a good move to seek Keira out when he came back home because the sheriff had gotten to know him.

His wolf paced and growled in his mind, ready for a fight.
Not now. Timing is everything, my wolf friend. Pack first. Enemies second. If we’re lucky, Mason will fade away once he realizes he can’t take what’s mine.

The wolf inside him gave a reluctant nod of agreement and settled onto the ground, his fury dissipating. Wolves were quick to fight, but even quicker to be smart about it, and for that, Ryder was grateful. Strategy mattered in this cat-and-mouse game he was playing. He had to stay out of sight until the Pack Council granted his new pack petition. Then, if anyone wanted to fight  him, he would be happy to oblige.

It took Mason forever to wrap up whatever his business was with Talon. Ryder was half asleep in his chair when the sheriff finally returned.

“Heads up, Chase. You’ve got trouble.” Talon tossed a stack of papers into Ryder’s lap.

Ryder fumbled to catch it, his reflexes groggy. Yawning, he said, “What is this?”

“Read it and weep.”

Ryder squinted and growled as he realized what Mason had done. “He’s going to make me a stray?” He slapped the papers down on Talon’s desk. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Doesn’t matter. By the time an appeal goes through, you will have lost years of your life.”

“But why would he do this? It doesn’t stop anything.” Ryder's fingers curled into fists as the urge to hit something came over him.

“That’s where you’re wrong. You can’t start a new pack if you’re a stray.”

“Oh, shit.” Ryder took a deep breath forcing himself to relax and unfold his fingers. “But my paperwork is ahead of his.”

“Probably not,” Talon said. “There are more people working on the law enforcement side. Average turnaround time is three days. How long do new packs take?”

Ryder furrowed his brow, trying to remember what the small print on the form had said. “A couple weeks, I think.”

“It would seem Mason did his homework." Talon shook his head. "I didn’t know he could read.”

Ryder rubbed his forehead. “What do I do now?” In the ring, he knew how to test an opponent and ferret out weaknesses he could use to win. This political fight, though, he couldn't play that way and Mason had the upper hand so long as Ryder was on the run.

“You have one advantage that Mason doesn’t know about.”

“I do?” Ryder sat forward in his chair, all ears.

Talon smiled. “I happen to know he has an agenda and that’s one thing the Pack Council won’t tolerate. I’m not here to be anyone’s pawn and I’m under no obligation to file fraudulent paperwork, which is what this is.” He picked up the file and ripped it in half. “Of course, I do have to file paperwork about Mason’s fraud attempt which will open you both up to investigation, but I can delay it a bit.”

“Until the new pack is set.”

Talon nodded. “Exactly.”

“Thank you,” Ryder said.

“No one with half a brain wants to see Mason win this one. We are all rooting for you and I want Keira to have a home. She doesn’t deserve a stray life.”

There was a knock at the door. Talon craned his neck to see who it was. “Yes?”

Keira poked her head in. “There’s someone to see you, sheriff.”

“Again? Who is it this time?”

“Someone I think you’ll want to talk to. They might have a lead on our Jane Doe.”

At that, Ryder twisted around to look at the door, too.

“Send them in,” Talon said.

“Should I leave?” Ryder asked.

“No, it’s okay. Besides, you can report back to Jane and save me the trouble of making the visit myself. We’re a little short staffed, so if you don’t mind helping out...”

“No problem. I have to go back to Crescent Pines anyway,” Ryder said.

A young, thin woman made her way into Talon’s office, a black purse clutched against her chest. She had long blonde hair that ran in a braid down her back and brown eyes that looked haunted. Or maybe that was due to the sunken cheek bones. Whoever the woman was, she was underweight, her legs like brittle sticks and her wrists delicate as hollow bird bones. Faint bruises marked her neck and the fleshiest part of each forearm, as if she'd been attacked recently.

Her eyes darted from Talon to Ryder and her shoulders hunched even more as if they’d frightened her somehow. Granted, two alphas in a small room could set anyone on edge, but Ryder and Talon were friends. They wouldn’t smell of the testosterone that preceded a fight and Ryder knew their body language was open and calm, not tight and wound up. Ryder narrowed his eyes as he watched her come closer to Talon’s desk. What was she so afraid of?

“Hello,” Talon said, his voice deep but gentle. “I’m Sheriff Garde. My deputy, Keira, said you wanted to talk to me?”

The woman nodded and looked to Ryder. “Who is he?” Her voice was quiet but firm.

“Ryder Chase.” Ryder offered his hand but she ignored it.

“Is he a sheriff, too?”

Talon shook his head. “No, but if you’re here to talk about what happened at the Rowdy Howl, he’s helping me out with the investigation.”

“Oh. Okay,” she said after a moment’s deliberation.

Ryder vacated his chair and took the one next to the wall, leaving the seat closest to the woman free. “Here, have a seat.”

She licked her lips and frowned, but sank to perch on the very edge of the chair, her knees pressed tightly together and her back stiff.

“So what brings you here?” Talon asked.

“This.” She thrust the purse at him.

“Your purse?” Ryder gave her a quizzical look.

“Not my purse. It belonged to someone from that night.”

“Let’s start at the beginning,” Talon said. “Who are you?”

“Anita,” she said. “I’m a waitress at the Rowdy Howl.”

Talon frowned. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I slip out whenever there’s trouble. I’m pretty fast,” she said.

Talon gave a nod. “Okay, so you split during the fighting. How did you come by this purse?”

“The waitresses have to clean the bar,” she said with a shrug. “I found this under a table. It was in a pool of blood. I hope it’s okay that I wiped it clean.”

“It’s fine,” Talon said. “Was this table by chance almost broken in half?”

“Yeah. I had to lug it out to the dump.”

Ryder blinked at the woman. Even though she was a shifter, she looked way too scrawny to be lifting anything heavy.

“And you brought the purse to me because?”

“I can’t find who owns it, and I figured since you were there that night you might be able to help.”

Talon narrowed his eyes as he looked at the purse. “Is there an ID?”

She reached into the purse and pulled out a slim wallet. “There’s a wallet and an ID, but it’s no one I know and no one else seems to have heard of her either. She didn’t come back looking for it, so you’re the only person I could think of to give it to. I figure you would know where to find her.” She put the wallet back, and then set the purse on the edge of the sheriff’s desk.

Ryder and Talon exchanged glances. Was it possible the identity of their Jane Doe was about to be revealed?

Anita stood up and pulled a phone out of her pocket. "I'm not sure, but I think this is her phone, too." She held it up, showing them the shattered screen. "I doubt it works, but I wanted to at least give it back to her."

Talon took the phone from her and pushed the power button. The screen briefly flared to life, casting a neon blue glow before going dark again. "Yeah. I'd say this phone is done for, but if it belongs to her, we'll see she gets it back."

Anita nodded to them both. “Well, I’m just glad she's getting her stuff back. I know I would be lost without my purse.”

"Everything okay up there at the Rowdy Howl?" Talon asked. "That was one hell of a fight."

She looked away, refusing to meet the sheriff's gaze. "It's a job."

"A job that could snap you in two." Talon gestured to Anita. "Do they let you eat over there?"

She stiffened. "I'm fine, Sheriff. They treat me okay, if that's what you're asking. I hide when it gets bad and I fit in places too small for anyone to get me."

Talon sniffed. "What kind of shifter are you? I don't smell wolf or cat."

Anita half turned to look over her shoulder as if checking to be sure the door was still there. "Why do you ask? Am I in trouble?"

Talon held up his hands. "Not as far as I know. But if you're being mistreated, speak up and I'll take care of it."

She considered his words for a moment and then said, "I'm a mouse, if you must know."

Ryder fought to keep his expression from giving away his surprise. A mouse shifter? He'd never heard of such a thing.

"Ah, so that's why you're so tiny," Talon said.

"Yes. That's why." She narrowed her eyes and gave the sheriff a fierce look. "I'm strong though. Just like you." Her gaze moved to Ryder. "And you."

Ryder acknowledged her with a nod and refrained from explaining that one swipe of his arm would send her through the drywall. He'd never seen a mouse shifter in the ring and he doubted it was only because they were rare.

"What happened that night? Do you know?"

She shook her head. "I just serve the food and bring the beer. That's it. I have no idea what blew up that night. One minute I was juggling too many tables, the next they were flying across the room. I dove for cover and stayed there."

Talon watched her closely. "You didn't see or hear anything at all?"

"No. All I can say is it was a good thing you and your crew came in. People would've died otherwise. One thing I do know, it wasn't an ordinary bar brawl. We see lots of those at the Rowdy Howl. This time, though, they were fighting to the death."

"But you don't know why?"

"Nope. Whatever it was, it didn't start at my end of the bar."

"Where did it start?"

She closed her eyes, thinking. "Back by where Mason Claw sat. Do you know him?"

Ryder sighed. Mason, Mason, Mason. Why did it always go back to his asshole alpha?

“Yeah, I know him. Thank you, Anita.” Talon stood and escorted her to the door. “This is more helpful than you know. If you remember anything else, please give me a call.”

Once she was gone, Talon descended on the purse like a vulture who’d scented a fresh kill. He went through the wallet in two seconds flat, stopping only to pull out the driver’s license. “We’ve got a name.”

“Who is it?” Ryder asked trying to read over his shoulder.

Talon handed the license to him. “Lia Fleurgriffe. Do you know her?”

Ryder looked at the picture in the upper left corner. “No, but this is definitely Jane Doe.”

“And it looks like she’s from out of town. If this license is real, she lives out in Oregon.”

“What is she doing here?” The only reasons shifters traveled outside pack lands were for family or work, but their families were almost always part of their home pack and the work was local more often than not. Outside of shifters who worked as truckers or, like Ryder, followed a fight circuit, there was no reason to leave home.

“We’ll have to see if she remembers once we tell her who she is.” Talon took a picture of the license with his smart phone and then put everything away. Handing the purse to Ryder, he said, “You can give this to her. I’m sure she’ll be glad to have it.”

"What about the phone?"

"I'm keeping that. We don't know it's hers and I want Dixon, my tech guy, to go over it. If anyone can get the data off this phone, it'll be him." Talon picked up the phone and gazed into its screen. "No one is talking about what happened that night, but technology always spills its secrets."

"You think Anita knew something she wasn't telling us?"

Talon nodded. "Yeah. I do. She's working at a place trouble likes to visit. She wouldn't keep her job if she couldn't keep her mouth shut."

"Why risk bringing the purse back then?" Ryder picked the bag up and looked inside, curious. Jane's...no, wait, make that Lia's purse was neat and orderly, holding a travel size tissue pack, a hair brush and a compact.

Talon folded his arms and leaned against his desk, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It could be Anita's way of asking for help."

Ryder looked up at the sheriff. "Help with what?"

"I don't know. That's what we have to find out."

"M
y name is Lia?" Ryder had appeared at Pine Crescents' cafeteria just as she'd finished her morning coffee, a black purse in one hand, a plastic bag in the other.

"We found your purse," he'd said, extending it toward her.

She'd almost been afraid to touch it, but once she had the bag in her hands, she tore through it like a ravenous beast looking for the wallet. When she found it, she stopped breathing and her hands shook as she extracted the driver's license.

The moment of truth was upon her.
Who the hell am I?

She focused on the name—
her
name—which read Lia Fleurgriffe.

"That sounds French," she murmured.

"Yeah, I noticed that." Settling into the seat between her and Tillie, he swiped a danish off his grandmother's plate.

Tillie glared at him and he glared right back. "Like you didn't already have two of these, Grandma."

"I had an apple and a cheese one. That one was the cherry, my favorite. I was saving it for last."

Lia slid her plate over to Tillie. "Here, take mine. I'm full."

"Are you sure, dear?" Tillie looked at the danish with hungry eyes.

"Yeah. Go ahead, eat it. I'm good, promise. I had like, two omelettes already." Besides, Ryder's delicious scent had filled her nose and her interests had moved from food to not making a fool of herself. She wanted to find her memory, not love. Why he hit her senses like a love potion, she didn't understand, but she wasn't going to give into it. Not again. The timing was all wrong.