Werewolf Sings the Blues (31 page)

“He's one of your best friends.”

“He's in my way. Why the hell should I ever bow to him? Or Frank? They're not pack. They're not family, not really. Your father was just the asshole who knocked up my mate, who stood by as she made a cuckold of him for decades. And Jason? Just a rabid mongrel your father forced on us. They aren't fit to lead an orchestra, let alone the greatest pack in America. The fact I was able to pull all this off under their noses proves that.
I
will bring this pack back to its former glory. Make us a force to be reckoned with. It's a new dawn, princess.”

“You're insane,” I say with a hard edge.

He gets right in my face so our noses touch and presses his pistol against my temple. I don't flinch. “Maybe. But at least I'm gonna see a new day. Unlike some.”

Inside I'm about to pee my pants, but outside I just scowl. “You're not gonna kill me.”

“I'm not? Do tell.”

“You're not because you and I are gonna strike a little bargain. I give you what you want, Jason, and then you give me what I want, freedom. I want the fuck out of this house, this state, and for you to forget I ever existed. In return, I hand you the last piece of your megalomaniacal puzzle, who is, as I speak, probably eating one of your lackeys. You're gonna look pretty shitty if he's gone through half your men by your new dawn. We both know he's capable of it, as we both know I'm probably the one person he'd throw caution to the wind to save.”

“And you'd set him up like that?”

I scoff. “Have you met me? Hell, I already warned him I would. He was a good fuck, but not that good. All this shit has nothing to do with me. It never did. I just want to go home. Live. Survive. If it's come down to him or me … me. Plus, if I'm lying, you can always kill me. At least this way I have a chance that you won't. You don't need me after I deliver him. Let me go, one less body to explain away. You're a smart guy. You know I'm right.”

“Or I could torture you until he comes,” Tate says with a cruel grin.

“My way saves time. Less clean up too. Win-win.”

He studies my face with narrowed eyes. I keep it a mask. Learned from the master after all. He holds all the cards here, and we both know it. I have to at least attempt this tactic to save myself from unneeded torture if possible. And it is possible. Tate lowers his gun. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

“Only one thing I know that sooths both savage beast and man
alike: music. Get your men in position along the back windows with guns. I'll handle the rest.”

“Vinnie!” Tate hollers, still not removing his gaze from me nor I him. The door opens and out of the corner of my eye I see the Italian step in. “Our five best shooters. In here and the living room with guns aimed at the backyard. Lights out too.”

“Yes, sir.” Vinnie departs with nary a glance for either of us.

“One false move, princess, and I blow your pretty head off.”

“Dictator less than an hour and already paranoid. Doesn't bode
well,” I say with a smile. “You need to cut me. He'll smell the blood and follow it.” Right to you, asshole.

“Great minds think alike,” he says with a matching expression.

“There's nothing great about either of us. We're scum.”

“But
living
scum. Only the good die young, princess.”

Two men and Vinnie return a second later, all three holding huge guns, one with a scope. This could be a massive clusterfuck if everyone doesn't act as I anticipated. “Lloyd, your knife,” Tate orders. The man with the scope pulls a Bowie out of its holster and hands it to Tate. “What do you think?” He caresses the blade across my cheek. “Your pretty face?” He traces the edge down my chin, my neck, to my chest. “Carve my name into you as a rem—”

With one quick move, I grab his hand with the knife, raise my free one, and cut across my palm. It stings like a bitch but the blood starts flowing. “Or we can stop playing games and get on with this.” I pat his bicep with my bleeding hand, leaving a stain on his shirt, before stepping away to the corner. I watch, bleeding into a tissue as the men prepare: shutting off lights, opening or breaking windows not already shattered to get into position.
Oh God, please let this work.

“Get outside, princess,” Tate orders me. “Let him smell you.”

As I pass him, I flick more blood onto his shirt. “
Sieg heil
.”

There are three men in the living room preparing the same way.
They don't notice as I run my bleeding hand along the wall from office to the back patio door. I'm all out of breadcrumbs. It's a muggy night, but all the adrenaline pumping through my veins chills me. My life in others' hands. My wolves at the gate, the women in the cars, Rory, Deandra, Jason. I give myself a 5 percent chance of survival. Those men will either shoot me or a werewolf will rip my throat out by mistake. Yet, as I walk to the middle of the clearing to take center stage, I'm not as frightened as I imagined I would be. At least my death will mean something. I'll be remembered. Revered. The story of this night, of my heroism, will be passed down through the pack for generations. I made a mark, a good mark on people's lives. At last.

I stop in the middle of the clearing, making sure I'm downwind, and scan the tree line. He's out there somewhere. I sense him. Watching. Waiting for the right moment to strike back. I hold open my bleeding hand and clear my throat. Time to bring him home. My turn to watch over him.

I open my mouth and begin our song with my whole soul be
hind it. The performance of a lifetime. The song I was always meant to sing. My voice echoes through the trees, haunting its emptiness until the crackling in the trees to my right begins accompanying me. I sing harder, louder as if he were right in front of me.
The only man I think of with regret. The one who carries the key to my heart. And just as I reach the end of my song, there he is. The shepherd for this lost lamb takes one step out of the wilderness. The one to watch over me.

A man's scream in the house stops my song dead. They were fast. Right now Adam, Mac, Reid, Devin, Pookie, and Claire—I hope—are all charging inside like wolf cruise missiles while Shante barrels behind in the RV to crush any assholes who flee outside. Too bad their best men are back here, huh? The gunshots begin almost immediately, some of which I hope come from Deandra springing out of the tunnel with the Uzi and mowing down the guards to free everyone from the cages. I drop to the ground to avoid any stray bullets.

Jason and another wolf with a limp and bloody neck sprint to
ward me. Jason reaches me first, stopping by my side for a moment
with a whine. There are claw marks and bites all over his huge body, but
he's
worried about
me
. “I'm fine.” I pet his bloody head with my good hand. “It was Tate. He did this. Now go take our pack
back from the bastard.”

My mate growls, baring his teeth before starting toward our house with his ally limping in tow. He has to finish this. For Frank, f
or me, for Adam and Matt and everyone else. I've played my part, uniting the army with their leader. I watch with a tiny smile as he charges inside without a moment's hesitation. Men's wails of
pain, gunshots, and snarling echo through the otherwise tranquil night. If I had a weapon I'd go in, fight alongside them, but I'm needed elsewhere. He's got this. I pick myself up and dash to meet the others at the tunnel exit, all the while listening to the sweet music of retribution as my family reclaims our home, our pride, and our indivisibility. Live together or die alone. Know which one I've chosen.

nineteen

Burning my father's corpse
on the back lawn was not how I envisioned spending my thirtieth birthday. Getting drunk, possibly high, then hitting more bars with Cyr to get drunker and higher was the plan. Instead I'm sitting behind his desk, watching as pack members carry shrouded bodies from the freezer to the massive pyre a story tall we've been assembling since last night. Sam, Omar, Lee, Pookie, Scott, Maureen, Troy, Donald, and Frank will all be placed around the pyre and cremated together in accordance with pack tradition. Tate and the others were thrown into a mass grave Jason insisted on digging all by himself. Anything to be alone these past two days. Having your father die, learning one of your best friends is responsible, and inheriting a pack of traumatized werewolves requires time to process. I can handle everything else for him.

“So, they'll be considered missing persons?” I ask Dr. George Black, Ph.D. and head of the F.R.E.A.K.S.

The impossibly tall and thin man sits across from me in his pressed black suit. When the calm settled, and I had over two dozen dead bodies on my hands, I contacted the F.R.E.A.K.S. because hell, I didn't know what else to do. Dr. Black listened as I unraveled the story, then proceeded to lay out his displeasure in the nicest way possible. I don't think the man's voice is capable of rising.

“Yes, and all their cases will be run through my squad,” Dr. Black says, sipping his water. The heat sneaks through the plastic covering the broken windows. Dead bodies first, home improvement second. “We'll also issue death certificates signed off by our own ME, your father's included.”

“What about my fugitive status? Jason's?”

“Already erased. You can leave here whenever you like, a free woman.”

“Thank you,” I say with a smile. “And I know I've said it a million times but thank you for everything you've done, flying out here, cleaning up our mess like this.”

“Well, your father
should
have contacted me the moment he learned civilians were being attacked,” Dr. Black chides. “I've put forth a request to enact a new law that if a wolf commits any felony that we have to be immediately informed, and we have the oversight to investigate or not. This cannot happen again.”

“I'm sure that will go over well with the other pack leaders,” I say sarcastically. “Regardless, I appreciate all you've done for us and for being here. I know it would have meant a lot to my father.”

“He was a good man. A good leader. A friend even.”

“Thank you.” There's a knock on the door and a moment later Rory pokes his head in. I insisted he stick around, make himself useful with the million odds and ends, so everyone can get used to him. We inherited him and the wolf Darius, whom Jason fought into submission. They earned their place too. Understandably people have been chilly and downright hostile toward them, but we'll make pack out of them yet.

“Um, they're almost done moving the bodies,” Rory says.

“Has anyone seen Jason?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Okay,” I say, rising and smoothing my black sundress. “I'll go find him and then we'll begin. Thank you, Rory.” The boy nods and leaves us. “You, Jason, and I can continue this after the ceremony, if that's alright?”

Dr. Black stands too. “Of course.”

I round the desk and walk out with him. “There's food in the dining room. Feel free to help yourself.”

Dr. Black smiles and moves toward the dining room. Now to locate our wayward Alpha. I do a sweep of the house. A bruised and battered Linda rests on the couch, clutching her children as the other munchkins watch
Monsters Inc.
Rory got her and Sarah out during the confusion of the siege. Neither woman has really spoken since they returned from the hospital with Deandra. Claire either. Devin's been sitting by her side reading books aloud in her tent all day. She's strong, they all are, and with time and attention it will get better. We just need to be there for them anyway we can.

As I pass the dining room, I spy Mona McGregor greeting Dr. Black by the chip bowl. Across the table Agent Price listens as the Central Pack Alpha Tim Merrill, a man as old as Dr. Black, speaks. Jefferson Monroe, Western Pack, and Desmond Preaker, Eastern Canada Pack leaders, were unable to attend but sent flowers. Nice of them.

I find Adam in the parlor as I have many a time in the past two days, engaged in intensive home repair. Right now it's plastering over another bullet hole in the wall. Repairing the damage his brother wrought. I can't even conceive of the conflicting emotions cycling inside him. He won't talk about it, at least not to me. Keeping busy is working for now.

“Have you seen Jason? We need to begin the ceremony,” I say.

“Check his house.”

“Thank you.” I'm about to step away but stop myself. “Oh, Alpha Merrill was asking to see Jason earlier. He seems old school, wouldn't talk to me. Maybe he'll speak to Jason's Beta. He's in the dining room. Can you …”

“Sure.” He sets down his spackler. And if in his hour of need a certain witch comforts him, more's the better. The man deserves some damn happiness, and I'll do everything in my power to make sure he gets it. I squeeze his hand as he passes.

I climb into Frank's SUV and drive down the gravel path. For the first time in days, I'm nervous. I haven't said but thirty words to Jason, all of those on pack business since the attack. He's been keeping himself isolated with really only Adam to keep him company. I don't even know if he'll come to the funeral. People are beginning to talk. They need their leader strong. There.
I
need him there. He's never let us down before, he won't today.

“Jason?” I call as I step inside his bungalow. I hear sanding from the workshop. Of course. Jason has his back to me when I open the door. He's still working on that guitar, hand sanding out the rough edges from the frame. “Jason?”

“I thought you were going to leave me alone,” he says, still sanding.

“Well, I'm not here for me. I'm here for them. For you.”

Neither of us says a word. He just sands. After thirty seconds, he breaks the silence. “I was making this for Tate,” he says without turning around. “For his birthday. I … want to finish it for some reason.”

“He was your friend longer than he wasn't,” I say, slowly walking over. “It's gonna take more than two days to reconcile the man he became to the one you grew up with. Who taught you to shoot a gun and fight. Who was like a brother to you. It's impossible to just flick a switch and turn off that love.” I stand by his side and touch the guitar's neck. “Besides, it's beautiful. It deserves to be finished. Maybe you can give it to Dusty or Nicole.”

“Or you,” Jason offers, glancing up at me. “Birthday present.”

“I'd be honored.”

He bows his head, a bit of wood sprinkling in the light like glitter. “Is it time?”

“Yes. We're just waiting on you.”

“I'm sorry. It's just been …”

“I know. And you more than deserve some time alone. I can pick up the slack for you.” Hesitantly, I place my hand on his shoulder. “But right now, they need you there. They need you there
strong
.
They need you to help them say good-bye to those they loved. Who died fighting for us all. You need it too.”

“I …” His head lowers even more. “I'm scared. I'm scared I'll say or do the wrong thing. I'm scared I can't lead these people. That I'll let them down.”

“You passed the first test. You saved them, Jason. Now … you just have to pass the next million, starting with the one waiting at the house. You need to step up, step out, and say good-bye to our father, our friends, and let those people who remain know you will be there for them no matter what. You need to show them you are the man Frank knew you were. A leader.” I lift up his chin to meet his tear-rimmed eyes. “A good man who loves and would die for each and every one of them. Like his dad.” I smile. “And I will be here, as long as you'll have me. Picking you up when you fall. Making you smile when you need one. Being the woman who is always in your corner, who'll always sing you home. The woman who will
do her damnedest to be the mate you deserve. Watching over you as you have me. Because we're stronger together than apart. So … I'm here as long as you need me.
If
you need me, I'm yours.” I kiss his forehead. “
See you down there, Blondie. We'll be waiting.”

I wipe his tears away, give him one last sweet smile, and walk away. I make it through the door before he calls, “Vivian?” I barely spin all the way around before he's in front of me, staring down at me as if I were the only woman in the universe. He grabs me around the waist, pulls me in, and kisses me like the world's about to end if he doesn't. And with this kiss any and all doubts leave me.

This
. This is where I belong. In this man's arms. No more being lost. Or frightened. And if this isn't love, I'll never know what is. He pulls away, searching my eyes once more for the same thing he always has. When a smile stretches across that adorable face, and I can all but hear his soul sing, I think he's found it at last. Me too. “I'm ready. Let's go join our family.”

He slides his hand into mine and leads me out into the sunshine where the birds fly high and the breeze drifts on by. And damned if I'm not feeling good.

the end