Jace rose stiffly from his crouch in the wash and looked around. The plane burned by itself in the middle of nothing. West Texas sprawled around them, empty as far as Jace’s leopard eyes could see. Someone likely owned this land, maybe it was part of a gigantic ranch, but out here, entire counties might have only a handful of houses in them.
Jace shook himself, aching all over, but he considered himself lucky. He hadn’t broken anything as far as he could tell, and though chunks of his fur had burned off and his skin smarted, he would heal.
His left paw hurt like hell, though. The last thing he remembered was clutching Deni’s bracelet as the plane hit the earth. Jace flexed the pads of his empty paw and looked back at the burning wreck. He’d dropped the bracelet. Deni’s bracelet, which he’d promised to keep safe for her. No.
He started to run back toward the plane before his leopard brain stopped him. Let it go. The mate bond wrapping him whimpered. That bracelet had been part of her, and she’d entrusted it to him.
Let it go. Think. Survive.
Flee.
Jace was free. No one knew where he was. When humans came to find the plane, they wouldn’t even know he’d been in it. He’d been smuggled goods. Shifters, including Deni and his family, would think him dead inside it. Deni would cry. So would his dad.
Grief bit at Jace, but in his cat form, survival came first. He scanned the ground again. The first thing he noticed was a coyote, thin-legged and mangy, waiting to see if the two from the wreck would die. Easier pickings than rabbits the coyote had to chase.
Dark specks appeared in the sky as well, circling higher as they spotted Jace looking at them. Turkey buzzards, big and black, they also waiting to see whether they’d feast today. This was the kill-or-be-killed wild out here, no rules in sight.
Jace snarled and rushed at the coyote. The flea-bitten beast snarled in response but fled. Not far, though. Out of reach of Jace’s charge, the coyote stopped and waited.
Jace growled his challenge. In spite of being half-burned and thrown around a wreck, Jace felt strong, more so than he had in a long time. The pain of his Collar was completely gone, and in fact, he couldn’t even feel the Collar biting into him anymore. He shook himself again and sat down to let his back paw reach up to his neck to scratch.
He stopped. His delicate back toes didn’t find a chain, burned or loose, or tight and whole. He swiped his neck with a front paw, with the same result.
Jace told himself to shift, to make sure, and he would—when he could remember how to. The leopard wanted to stay in this form, so Jace was staying in this form.
He writhed around, trying to find the Collar with each of his paws in turn, probably to the amusement of the coyote. Actually, the coyote didn’t care—he was simply waiting to see whether Jace would be food or danger.
No, wait—the coyote had vanished. Damn him, he’d been sneaking up on Marlo while Jace went through his contortions. The coyote darted in, ready to drag Marlo—or pieces of him—away to his pack.
Jace went for the coyote. Ears up, paws moving in perfect rhythm, Jace rushed the scavenger. He didn’t snarl or make any noise—he didn’t have to.
The coyote barely got away from Jace’s striking paw. Jace caught his tail with a claw, causing the coyote to yelp and run. Jace chased him, the leopard rejoicing in the hunt, until he realized that the buzzards had taken the opportunity to land near Marlo and see if there were any good pickings.
Jace turned and barreled toward the birds, who flapped away with slow disdain. He snarled this time, making his fur stand up so he’d be large and menacing.
He knew for certain that his Collar was gone when he finally stopped and planted himself near Marlo. He’d been ready to kill the coyote and savage its body, and the Collar hadn’t tried to stop him. Jace had mastered the meditation technique, yes, but out here, chasing away scavengers while trying to stay away from a burning plane, he hadn’t exactly been meditating.
The Collar was gone. Completely. It must have fallen off in the wreckage or while Jace had been dragging Marlo away from it.
That meant that somehow in the burning mess that had been Marlo’s airplane, Jace’s Collar had slipped off, every link of it, without hurting him and without making the world spin into insanity.
Jace sat, blinking, even his leopard realizing the enormity of it. Now, if he could shift back to human, find his way home, and try to figure out exactly how it had happened, all Shifters would benefit.
Or he could stay in the wild. For the first time in twenty years, Jace was free. No more Collar, no more rules, no Shiftertowns, just wind, earth, sky, and small-brained predators.
Free, he repeated.
The only thing that kept his triumphant wildcat from taking over and erasing his human thoughts completely was one word: Deni.
Jace would find her and free her too. Then he’d live out his life with her, the mate of his heart. No one in this wide wilderness would be able to prevail against a wolf and a snow leopard. He and Deni would be free to be alone together, mates in the wild, as Shifters were meant to be.
Even in this vast place, someone would have reported a crashing plane by now. The humans would be coming. Jace didn’t intend to let them find him here.
He grabbed Marlo by the shirt, dragged him closer to the burning wreckage, which would keep the scavengers away for a while, then turned and loped off into the tall Texas grasses. His paw still hurt him, but that was a minor inconvenience.
* * *
Eric hadn’t heard from his son all day, he told Deni, and Jace likely had his cell phone off. Eric was worried too, but Marlo’s plane was old and slow. It wouldn’t land in Las Vegas until late in the evening, but Eric would keep his ear out. He sounded plenty anxious, but tried to calm Deni’s fears, as a good Shifter alpha should.
Liam too reassured her. Flying under the radar took time, Marlo often stopped to refuel or lie low for a few hours. Marlo had a cell phone, but he wasn’t answering either, and he didn’t always.
After Liam left to open the bar in the afternoon, Deni paced, snapped at everyone, and got nothing done. Any pats on the back or calming words only irritated her. Eric and Liam were probably right—but Tiger’s words about seeing something wrong with the mate bond, plus the tightness in Deni’s chest made her half crazy.
Ellison left for the bar after Liam, telling Deni and his mate that Liam had called a tracker meeting. That meant trackers only—the Shifters who worked for Liam as bodyguards, investigators, or peacekeepers as need be. Ronan, Ellison, Spike, Sean, Tiger, and Dylan made their way there, leaving Deni restless and barely in control of herself.
At five, she couldn’t stand it anymore. Deni walked out of the house and down the block, making her way to the bar on the edge of Shiftertown.
The parking lot was already full. This bar was a popular stop on the way home from work for humans who liked Shifters. Groupies were already there, lounging about suggestively, waiting for Shifters to come looking. With the fight club shut down for a while, the groupies had decided to pile on here, it seemed.
The human bartender shot Deni a sharp look when she walked in. The other Shifters already there were cagey, but when Deni asked why, they didn’t have an answer. They knew something was up, but they didn’t know what. The trackers had gone into Liam’s office and shut the door, they told her, then all except Liam and Dylan had come out and left the bar. Where the trackers, including Ellison, had gone, no one knew.
Deni had no business confronting Liam, who wasn’t in her family and held plenty of rank over her. His tracker meeting might have nothing to do with her or Jace, or the police. Shit involving Shifters and Shiftertown happened all the time.
One of the groupie girls sat in a booth by herself, talking on her phone. And talking and talking. She’d look around, and then start talking again. If she wasn’t talking, she was texting.
The young woman didn’t look much different from the other groupies. She wore a short, skintight pink dress with mi
le-high black heels, had short dyed-black hair that had been cut into cute wisps, and she’d painted her face with cat’s eyes and whiskers. Her outfit shouted, Come and get me, Shifter, I like to purr, but her looks and actions spoke of extreme nerves.
After Deni had watched her covertly for a time, she realized another thing that made this woman different. The other groupies were eyeing Shifters hungrily, or sashaying up to them without shame. Most groupies were female, as many of the Shifters here were male, but some young male groupies were eyeing the male Shifters—and Deni—with the same kind of interest.
The young woman in the booth was doing her best not to catch any Shifter’s attention. Which made no sense if she dressed like a groupie and hung out in a Shifter bar.
Deni picked up the bottle of beer the bartender had slid to her and carried it with her to the booth. Deni plunked the bottle onto the table and sat down opposite the young woman.
The young woman jumped as though struck by sparks. Deni held her gaze, the girl trying to evade her eyes.
“That Shifter over there.” Deni pointed. “Broderick. He’s looking for some action.”
Whether Broderick was or not, Deni didn’t know, but the young woman’s reaction was telling. She flinched and didn’t look where Deni indicated. In fact, she moved a little so Deni would block Broderick’s line of sight from her.
“I’m waiting for someone,” the young woman mumbled. “Leave me alone, Shifter.”
“Yeah? Who are you waiting for?”
The woman stared at her. She had light blue eyes and smelled strongly of fear, and even more of anger.
“None of your business.” She had defiance her words and eyes, but her voice shook.
“Interesting,” Deni said. She snatched the woman’s cell phone from her hand and stood up.
The girl shrieked. “Hey, give that back!”
Deni stepped away from her reaching hands and scrolled down her list of recent calls. Only one had been made today, much earlier this afternoon, which meant she’d been faking talking to someone. Stalling. She’d made plenty of calls yesterday, though, and the day before that, and on into the previous week. All to the City of Austin police.
“Don’t think so,” Deni said.
Broderick turned around, scowling, not liking to have his beer drinking with his brothers interrupted. “Who the hell is making all the noise?” Broderick growled.
Deni ignored him. She swung away from the groupie lunging for her phone and went for Liam’s office door. This was too important for respecting Liam’s privacy. “Broderick, don’t let her leave,” Deni said, then was through the door and into the office.
Liam was on the phone at his desk, Dylan hovering next to him, listening. Usually Liam sat back here with his feet up, casually going over billing, invoices, payroll, and the like, but today he sat straight up in his chair, his hand over his eyes, and he was speaking rapidly into the phone.
“Have you pinpointed where?” he asked whoever was on the other end. “Well, damn it, find it.”
“Find what?” Cold washed through Deni, triggering the dizziness she’d been fighting all day. “Liam?”
Dylan came quickly around Deni and closed the door. “Keep it down, lass. We can’t let the world know.”
“Know what? Damn it, tell me.”
Liam glanced up at her, his face strained as he listened to the stream of words coming from his phone. He shot a look at his father and nodded.
Dylan took Deni’s hand between his, pressing warmth into it. “We didn’t want you to know until we were sure, Den. Marlo’s plane went down, somewhere in West Texas. We don’t know where yet, and we don’t know who survived.”
Chapter Twelve
Deni’s world stopped—or maybe it kept spinning, whirling out of control while she froze in one place. She could barely see Dylan as she stared at him, only the blue of his eyes as he held her gaze.
Shock and then panic swept through her, and her wolf started to howl, a grief-stricken, wild howl that only happened with the death of a mate.
“Deni,” Dylan’s voice cut through the noise. “Keep looking at me.”
The voice that came out of Deni’s mouth was snarling and wrong. “Where is he?”
“South of the I-10,” Liam said. “Somewhere between here and Fort Stockton. Great,” he said into the phone. “Covers a hell of a lot of ground.”
Deni heard a voice on the other end—Ronan, she thought, from the deep timbre. “That’s all we know,” Ronan said. “We can’t ask too many questions.”
“Ask,” Deni snarled. “Find him.”
“Lass,” Dylan said.
“Don’t ‘lass’ me. Find him. He’s my mate.”
Both Dylan and Liam focused on her, as the truth of it filled Deni, hurting her and elating her at the same time. My mate. Hurt. Lost. Find!
Deni was growling again, the edges of her world going concave as her eyes changed to her wolf’s. Dylan pried the cell phone she’d taken from the girl out of her hand, which Deni had clamped down on so hard the plastic was starting to crack.
“Where did you get this?” Dylan asked, looking at the smart phone, which no Shifter would carry.
“Spy,” Deni said, forcing out the word. “Broderick has.”
Dylan’s eyes moved as he read the phone numbers, then he gave a furious snarl and shoved his way past Deni, banging out of the office.
Deni yanked Liam’s phone from his hands. “Ronan. You tell me where he is.”
“Deni?” Ronan’s tone softened. “Yeah, thought so. Sean’s hacking as fast as he can. He’s trying to pin down the location based on reports.”
“Where are you?”
“Don’t know.” Ronan turned away from the phone, exchanging questions with others. “Looks like we’re about where the 55 runs into the 277, wherever that is. A little west of that. Ellison says don’t you dare come out here.”
“Tell Ellison . . .”
Deni’s coherence left her. She didn’t remember dropping the phone or saying anything to Liam. She only knew she was walking out through the bar, past Dylan, who had the pseudo-groupie pinned between himself and Broderick, ignoring them when they tried to stop her. She walked and walked until she found herself in front of her own house, pulling out the new motorcycle Ellison had bought her and mounting it.
Deni must have found the keys, put on her helmet, jeans, and boots. She didn’t remember. In a few minutes, she was pulling out of Shiftertown, skimming through traffic to the roads that led west out of town.
Deni didn’t know Texas like Ellison did, but she knew how to get from Austin across Hill Country west, heading through Fredericksburg toward the 10. At the onramp to the interstate, she paused, debating whether to go north or south. She picked north, turning again after about thirty miles to the 377 and cutting south.
Not until she was well down the highway, heading south and west as fast as she could, did she realize she was riding her motorcycle.
Alone. Out on the road, under the sky, through the flat Texas lands and dust. On her own. No one with her, no Jace holding her and telling her she could do it.
She’d navigated traffic that moved thickly to Fredericksburg and then the speeding trucks on the 10, and now the open highway without any fear except that which filled her about Jace.
The sun was still high, though evening was coming on. Not much traffic out here now. Deni opened the bike up all the way, the high-powered machine taking her swiftly down the road. Shifters weren’t allowed to buy new vehicles, but Deni always thought Harleys were better once they were broken in. Ellison had tinkered with this one until it purred like a lion, or maybe a snow leopard.
Deni ran it so fast she almost missed the 55, which jogged from this road west and a little north. She sped down it, squinting against the bright sun, nice and hot still in late July.
The 55 ended in a T junction with the 277, one leg of the T going north, the other going south. Deni stopped at a little pulloff at the crossroads and
looked around. One truck rumbled past south, and a car sped north, its headlights turned on against the gathering twilight. No road went west from here except for a dirt track that headed off into the wilderness.
But Ronan had said they were west of this intersection, and so that was where they were.
Deni waited until the road was clear, then she glided the bike across the highway and onto the faint dirt path that led into nothing. Her wolf senses kicked in as she rode. She’d taken off her helmet at the crossroads, and now she could see, hear, and smell as a Shifter while her human body navigated the bike.
As the sky darkened, the huge arch of it brushed with stars, Deni saw a tiny orange light far to her left. The narrow dirt road bent to her right, taking her away from it, and she had no way of knowing whether the track would curve around again to where she wanted to go.
Deni shut off the bike, stripped off her clothes, stretched her limbs, and changed to her wolf.
Once in wolf form, she smelled the greasy smoke from faraway burning fuel, the scent making her gag. Deni trotted into the empty land, homing in on the fire. She passed oil wells, stark metal giants against the twilit sky, their heads moving up and down, clanking as they pumped. But they were insignificant, an affectation of humans. Deni was wolf now, nothing more, and the night flowed to her.
After a long time of unceasing trotting, she made it to what she now saw was the smoldering wreck of a small airplane. Inside the perimeter of the fire’s light, she saw the hulking forms of Ronan and Tiger and the tall one of Spike bending over a heap on the ground.
Jace? Deni’s heart pounded as she sped up. No, Deni saw and scented as she neared the others. The man on the ground was human, probably the pilot, Marlo. She smelled no stench of death, so Marlo was still alive. Ronan and Spike were lashing him onto a stretcher, preparing to load him into a pickup that was parked nearby. Tiger saw her and gave her a long look then he turned back to helping with Marlo.