Wolf at the Door (22 page)

Tate glared up at her. “That’s if he’s not
already dead.”

Timber winced. She knew that, too. There was
no reason for Charles to keep Brandt, except revenge. He hadn’t
killed Brandt on the spot; instead he’d abducted and hidden him.
That bought them time. Not much, and she hated to think what
Charles might be doing to him, but it was enough to give her hope
that they’d arrive in time.

She didn’t bother with an explanation.
Instead, she put on her light jacket and zipped it up, then shoved
her gun in the pocket. It wasn’t the safest way to carry, but
Charles would never imagine she carried a gun. As long as she kept
it hidden, she was guaranteed the element of surprise.

Tate grunted at her silence and pulled out
his phone. She knew he was calling for backup. She hadn’t lied
about that part, they’d want their backup on the way. They’d want
it here as fast as possible, but for those first moments, just long
enough for them to get to Brandt, Charles had to believe he could
win. It was the only shot they’d have. She crossed her arms and
stared off through the trees. She could see her house through the
branches.

Shay leaned against her for a second, oddly
comforting. “We’ll get him. Hounds, cops, military, people in
general who are used to protocols don’t typically like breaking the
rules.”

“I just hope I’m not wrong.”

Shay nodded. “Yeah. I get that. But I think
you’re right. Wolfe has nothing to lose if STE storms your place.
Brandt would be nothing more than a meat shield to him. With you
here, he might think he can trade.”

“He can.”
I can survive him again
. The
words, the bone-deep
knowing
of that, flowed through her,
filling her with a quiet confidence. She’d face down Charles again
and again for Brandt.

Shay stepped in front of Timber, blocking her
view of her house and forcing Timber’s gaze to meet hers. “We will
not be trading you. That’s not an option. I’m game to break a lot
of rules to get Brandt back alive, but only as long as we keep you.
I’ll have Tate handcuff your ass to the car and go in solo if you
disagree. Got it?”

Timber couldn’t help smiling. “Yeah, I got
it.”

Leaves crunched when Tate stepped up behind
them, and Timber turned to look at him. His jaw was hard, tension
all over his face, but his eyes were on hers. “Backup is on the
way. We are not, however, going in there with no clue about what to
expect.”

“Which is why I’ll be shifting to get a
closer look,” Shay said. “And before anyone can argue, I’m better
trained for this than either one of you. I can take a look, and
possibly even get Brandt, without being spotted. You two just stay
here.”

Timber started to refuse when Tate caught her
arm and nodded to Shay. “Be careful, okay. Nathan will whip my
ass.”

“Nathan knows I can take care of myself. I’ve
pulled his ass out of the fire a time or two.”

Shay disappeared into the trees. She moved in
a fast, crouching run to the edge of the tree line before she
paused and shifted. It wasn’t like in the movies, where clothes
tore and fell to the ground. It was simple, fluid, magic. Her body
seemed to shimmer, blurring, until she was simply a wolf where a
woman had been. Her clothes were gone, going wherever her human
body went when she shifted. It was just magic. Some things didn’t
have any other explanation.

Shay sank low to the ground, her silver belly
brushing over the grass as she crept out of the bush and made a
beeline for the house. Timber held her breath, watching Shay’s wolf
lope around the edge of the building and disappear. She knew Shay
had the training, but it didn’t make it any easier to stand on the
sidelines.

Tate let out a slow, shaky breath and Timber
glanced at him. “I know she knows what she’s doing,” he growled,
“but I still don’t like letting a civilian do my job.”

They waited, their silence hanging fraught
with tension. Then finally branches cracked in the woods to
Timber’s right, and she spun, only to see Shay shifting back to
human form. “He’s in the basement. Charles has him locked in a dog
crate.” The lines around Shay’s eyes tightened as she stared past
Timber to Tate. “And your guys need to hurry. Charles is down
there, too. There’s a lot of blood and I’m not sure—”

The words trailed off before Shay finished
them, but she didn’t have to. Timber could fill in the blanks just
fine on her own. “Then we need to go in now.”

When Shay didn’t argue Timber felt like the
world was dropping out from beneath her. They might already be too
late.

***

Brandt coughed up blood, splattering the
cement floor outside the crate. A low laugh sounded in the darkness
around him. Wolfe. Brandt blinked, but his vision kept hazing in
and out. From pitch blackness to the dim sunlight that streamed in
through the basement windows. His body throbbed, and piercing pains
blasted through him.

He lay on his side, his knees tucked up to
his chest. He’d tried to protect his vitals, but every time Charles
rammed a knife or that fucking taser through the bars, it got
harder and harder to remember that he didn’t want the knife to hit
something vital. That he didn’t want to die.

Wolfe knelt outside the cage and Brandt could
see the blurry outline of his jeans. “You should have stayed away,”
Wolfe said, his voice conversational. “Should have just packed up
your Hounds and left. She isn’t yours. She’s mine.”

A growl rumbled through Brandt’s chest the
moment Wolfe said that word. “She’s not yours. She never was, and
she never will be.”

He spat blood at Wolfe’s feet, ignoring the
wash of pain and the little black dots that suddenly danced in
front of his eyes. Wolfe lunged at him, the metal cage rattling
around Brandt. Suddenly it jerked upwards and Brandt fell back
against the bars. Then a hand reached in and hauled him out. He hit
the ground, the cement scraping his shoulder, right before Wolfe’s
boot slammed into his gut.

A gurgling, strangled cough broke out of him.
Brandt tried to fight. He was finally free of the cage, but even as
he scrambled on the blood-slick floor, lashing out with both arms
to knock Wolfe way, the silver blade slashed down, cutting a neat
line through his forearm.

Even through the pain, Brandt reacted,
pushing into the cut. His hands gripped the wrist Wolfe held the
knife in and twisted. Wolfe’s grip on the knife loosened and Brandt
grabbed it. He spun, desperately trying to get the blade up between
his hands. He sawed at the knife just before searing pain shot
through him again, jolts from the taser bringing him to his knees.
The knife went spinning over the ground.

But the ropes on his hands had loosened. Not
much, but enough. The silver no longer cut into his wrists and
without the burning effects, he could shift. His inner dog
clambered to the surface and Brandt shifted. The dog flowed out of
him, the silver in his wounds burning as they partially healed in
the change. He was still hurt, still bleeding, but the ropes fell
away. At least now he was free and he armed again. He bared teeth
in a satisfied growl. About damned time.

Brandt spun, lashing out with teeth and claws
while Wolfe brought the knife down again. It glanced off his
shoulder, slicing through the wiry fur and muscle. Brandt jerked
his head around. As a wolfhound, he wasn’t a small dog. His kind
had been bred to hunt wolves, and they had to be big and fast
enough to do it.

His long jaws clamped down around Wolfe’s
forearm, biting down hard enough to make the other man squeal. The
knife clattered to the ground before Wolfe used his other hand to
ram the taser into Brandt’s side. Jolts shot through him and he
yelped, his long limbs giving out, and his body hit the ground.

“Freeze!” a woman shouted, followed by the
crack of gunfire.

Brandt recognized the masculine curse that
growled out of the shadows, right before he felt the gentle hands
of someone else kneeling next to him. Timber’s soft scent drifted
around him. He tensed. She shouldn’t be here. It was too dangerous.
Too...

“Shhh...” she whispered, her fingers stroking
the length of his muzzle as his consciousness slipped away, pain
and exhaustion finally winning.

Chapter Twenty-One

Brandt sat in the ambulance while an EMT poked and prodded him.
“I’m fine,” he muttered, not for the first time. The young man
grinned up at him.

“So you’ve said. You’ve lost a lot of blood,
sir. You
should
go to the hospital.”

Like hell he should. Brandt craned his head
to look out the back of the ambulance. Several STE vehicles were
parked on the front lawn. He spotted Tate sending a pair of Hounds
into the house and waited for the other man to look his way before
calling him over.

“But you won’t, will you?” the EMT demanded,
but Brandt ignored him.

“Did you find Wolfe?”

Tate’s shoulders sagged. “No. The son of a
bitch ran right at us. Both Shay and I got a shot off. I saw him
take a hit, but he never stopped running. He’d shifted by the time
he hit the stairs and rammed right past us. If he saw Timber, he
didn’t even hesitate.”

“Why the hell was she there?”

Tate turned away, his shoulders tight. Brandt
could feel the indecision rolling off of him. The guilt,
frustration. “Fuck, boss. I can’t decide right now if her reasons
were as sound in hindsight as they were before I went in.” Tate
shoved fingers through his hair, then threw his hands up, before
looking back at Brandt. “Are you okay? You took one hell of a
beating.”

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” the EMT said, but
Brandt was already pushing to his feet.

His legs wobbled, but held. Bonus. He might
actually manage to walk out of this damn truck on his own. Gripping
the side of the door, he stepped down, ignoring the jolt of pain
that shot through his side as his boot reached for the ground. Tate
caught his other arm and helped him.

“I’m fine,” Brandt said.

Tate snorted. “Yeah. So fine you’re going to
take the day off.”

“You called me ‘boss’ a second ago.”

“Old habits die hard.”

Brandt looked up to glare at the Hound, but
then he spotted Timber marching in his direction, her hands fisted
at her side. “You should be in that truck. You should be going to
the hospital.”

Without thinking Brandt reached out and
caught her by the back of her neck and pulled her closer. “You
never should have been in that house.” He dragged her the rest of
the way to him and pressed his lips to hers. A brief, searing kiss
that reminded him that she okay. And he was, too. She was standing
right here. Alive. He broke the kiss and leaned back. “You
shouldn’t have been there,” Brandt repeated, voice soft.

Timber leaned into him slightly. The anger in
her face eased into relief. She’d been scared. He could see it.
Feel it in the small tremor running down her back. He massaged the
back of her neck while she clutched his shirt, twisting the fabric
gently. “I couldn’t just sit in the car. I couldn’t, okay?”

She rested her forehead against his, and
Brandt watched as her eyes drifted closed in relief. This, holding
her like this, standing here and now, it wasn’t professional, but
he couldn’t bring himself to care about being professional at the
moment.

“We need to talk, Brandt,” Timber whispered
softly. “Alone.”

Brandt pulled away, but then tucked her head
into the crook of his neck. He could see Shay talking with Nathan
on the edge of the property. Tate still stood nearby, but there was
sympathy in the Hound’s face as he watched Brandt. Once again,
Wolfe had gotten away.

“I have a car ready to take you home,” Tate
whispered.

Timber lifted her head. “I’m going with you,
and don’t argue. I’ve already cleared it with everyone. I still
have Shay’s gun, you’ll have yours, and Tate will have Hounds
watching your place. I’m going with you.” Her hands tightened in
his shirt as if she expected him to refuse.

Instead, Brandt slipped an arm around her
waist and nodded. “Good.”

Her relief was palpable. She leaned against
him while they followed Tate to the car, but it was only after a
few steps that he realized Timber was helping him walk, not simply
cuddling. He had no idea what to say, so he simply let her.

Sometimes this woman’s strength blew him
away. She’d seen Wolfe today, he knew she had, and yet she was the
one holding him up. She was the one who was strong.

And damn if he didn’t love her even more for
it.

Part of him still wanted to argue. Getting
used to things like love took time, lots of time. But there wasn’t
another word out there for what he felt for Timber. “You’re
incredible,” he whispered while she helped him into the SUV, then
hauled herself up next to him.

When he could tell she’d just realized what
he said, Brandt tucked her head into the crook of his neck before
she could say anything. There were words they needed to share, but
with another Hound sitting in the driver’s seat, this wasn’t the
time or place.

“Take me home,” Brandt murmured to the driver
before he leaned his head back against the head rest and dozed.

It wasn’t a long drive. Nor was the house
itself anything special. A pale, grayish blue with white siding,
the two-story house blended in with the neighborhood, but Timber
still craned her neck to get a good look, as if the curiosity had
been killing her. When the car pulled up in front, she hopped out
first and Brandt followed more slowly, waving off her attempts to
help him.

He hurt like hell, but it wasn’t all that
bad. Wolfe could have done a lot worse to him. Most of it had
healed when he shifted, only a few wounds had been bad enough the
little bit of silver in his system had stalled them from healing
over. “Thanks,” he said to the other Hound, and shoved away from
the car. He winced as he dug out his key from his back pocket and
unlocked the door.