“Hell, I don’t even know much about our connection with the Fae,” Graham snapped. “But I wouldn’t care whether Misty was a groupie I shagged once and dumped—I’m not forcing her to face a Shifter interrogation squad.”
“Neither will I,” Eric said mildly. He hadn’t risen, but such was the other Shifters’ respect for him that they all went quiet and let him speak. “I’ll monitor Misty. I too think she’s significant if the Fae sought her, even if only to ensnare Graham and the rest of us. But leave it to me. If she knows nothing, she should be left alone.”
Bowman considered a long time, but he nodded in the end. The others seemed to conclude that what was good enough for Bowman was good enough for them.
“I’ll find the Collar maker then,” Liam said. “And get him to Eric in Las Vegas. We all should be able to have access to him.”
“Agreed,” Eric said. He stood up.
And that was it. Meeting adjourned. A few Shifters walked out right away, but the others took their time. A few went into the bar for a refreshing beer. Thinking about cold beer made Graham’s unnatural thirst kick in, and he fought it by marching out the door into the bright heat of the parking lot.
“We rode all the way down here for that?” Graham asked Eric as they went to their motorcycles. The sun was hammering down, this stretch of the river racking up the hottest summer temperatures in the country. Not helping with the thirst.
“Phones aren’t secure,” Eric said, mounting his bike. “Neither is e-mail. The Guardian network is secure, but this isn’t Guardian business.”
“Yeah, well, if I don’t find some way out from under this spell, it might become Guardian business,” Graham said darkly. “As in Guardian’s sword, inside me.”
“Spell, is it?” Liam had materialized out of nowhere, or so it seemed, and now he studied Graham with his too-knowing blue eyes. “You’re ensorcelled still, aren’t you? Don’t worry; I’ll keep it to myself. You think the Collar-making Fae can help un-ensorcell you?”
“I haven’t the faintest fucking idea,” Graham said. “I’m more worried about what the Fae bastards are up to with our Collars. They need to be stopped. If I die in the process, then I do.”
Liam’s Feline eyes narrowed as his gaze fixed hard on Graham. “Huh,” he said finally. Nothing more.
Graham looked behind Liam at Tiger. “Hey, crazy. How are you?”
Tiger took a moment to consider. “I’m well,” he said. He put a lot of conviction into the short answer.
Eric laughed. “Glad to hear it. Having a cub on the way changes a Shifter, doesn’t it?”
Tiger nodded once and gave Eric a faint smile. Scary, watching that big man smile. Graham had seen Tiger tear apart a human man without even trying—Graham had shot Tiger with two heavy bursts from a tranq rifle before Tiger even slowed down.
Having a cub on the way changes a Shifter, doesn’t it? Eric’s question hit Graham as Liam and Tiger moved off, and Graham and Eric started their bikes.
Graham remembered sharply how proud he’d been back in the day to have gotten his mate belly-full. He’d been so protective of Rita, and both had been happy and excited. I was so young, Graham thought. Sure the world would do anything I wanted it to.
He and Eric rode out of Laughlin, heading for the rugged hills that lined the river. On the other side of those would be Searchlight and a flat, almost alien-looking desert landscape that stretched for miles. Down on that desert floor, it was hard to guess that a glittering city full of people craving entertainment existed less than a hundred miles away.
The ride gave Graham plenty of time to remember Rita, how into her Graham had been, how proud of his unborn cub. Graham’s father had been clan leader then—seventy-five years ago. The old man had been hard-bitten and quick to punish, but he’d held the wolf pack—the extended clan—together. Out in the wilderness of Montana, that had been important. Graham, as his second, had been wild and untamable. Rita had been just as wild as Graham.
And then she’d died bringing in Graham’s cub. Just like that. One day there, full of hope; the next day, Rita and the stillborn boy cub had been taken away from him. The Guardian had thrust his sword into both Rita and the cub, and their bodies had crumpled to dust. Graham had scattered their ashes in the mourning ceremony, but he’d been numb, unable to weep.
He’d spent the next year alone out in the woods, living rough. He’d returned to find his father dying, other wolves in the pack ready to try to take over the minute he drew his last breath.
Graham had proved he was leader by preventing the takeover and punishing the instigators. He’d nursed his father through his last days, sending for the Guardian while the elderly wolf still lingered, to let him go out with dignity. Another mourning ceremony, but this time, Graham hadn’t had the leisure to go grieve for a year in the wild. He’d had to kick plenty of ass to stay leader, and had earned the reputation of being a mean bastard.
Graham had survived by learning to push away his pain. Now, during this ride through the waves of heat back to the city, the pain rushed at him and washed over him.
Graham had to hold himself together—for Dougal, for the orphaned cubs, for his clan and all the Lupines—whether they liked it or not. But he was achingly lonely.
Misty was a sweet spot in every day. And damned if Graham would let any of the Shifters come for her, question her, touch her, even look at her.
Now, Graham might be dying, or worse, taken as slave by the Fae. If that happened, he hoped Eric or someone would just kill him. He’d had a full life, didn’t matter.
Graham’s one regret was that he’d not had any time to spend with Misty. Always something else distracted him, plus Graham had backed off her because his pack didn’t want him taking a human mate. He’d always agreed with them—until Misty had smiled at him at a bar nearly a year ago.
Graham needed to talk to her. To see her. To immerse himself in her. He needed to find her, touch her, kiss her.
But when Graham stopped for gas inside the city limits, and his phone rang, it was Dougal, frantic and half crying. “Matt and Kyle are gone,” Dougal said, his voice blasting through the phone. “They disappeared, and I can’t find them anywhere.
• • •
Misty stared up at Ben. “I think you’d better tell me exactly what you mean.”
“Just what I said.” Ben kept his fists on her desk, his brown eyes focused on her. He didn’t have the same black-hole stare of the Fae—Ben appeared to be human, but that didn’t mean he was safe. “McNeil is going to die, unless you help him.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Misty demanded.
Paul stood behind Ben, his arms folded, looking ashamed but making no move to stop Ben. “Listen to him, Misty. He’s a friend.”
“I’m waiting for him to say something worth listening to.” Misty kept her voice hard, as she’d learned to as a kid when other kids bullied her. She’d learned how to put on the hard shell while protecting her softer self. She’d protected Paul as well.
“I know all about the Fae’s spell,” Ben said. “You cured yourself somehow, Misty. For that I say—respect.” He gave her a nod. “But that counterspell only works on humans. Shifters aren’t cured by it. Helping Graham will be harder.”
Misty’s worry rose, and with it anger and fear. How did Ben know about the spell and whether it had cured her or not? “What are you?” she asked.
“No Fae in me,” Ben said. “No Shifter either. But I’ve made it my business to know about these things.”
“Can we get back around to Graham dying? Why are you saying I can save him?”
“It will be dangerous. I can’t lie to you, Melissa Granger. But I’ll help you. I’ll lead you on this quest and keep the path as safe as I can.”
“Quest? What quest?” Misty got to her feet. “Did I wake up in Lord of the Rings?”
Ben
chuckled. “The journey won’t be that long. You won’t have to leave the city, not really.”
“Not really?” Misty glared at him. “You haven’t told me anything I want to hear yet.”
“That’s what happens to messengers,” Ben said. “We’re hated if we bring bad news, loved if we bring good. But I’m more than a messenger. I’m a guide.”
“I learned a long time ago not to blindly follow anyone,” Misty said. “If you can’t give me exact details on how I can save Graham, I’d like you to leave. The last person who coerced me into ‘helping’ made me poison Graham with Fae water. Forgive me for not instantly trusting you.”
Ben lifted his fists from her desk and shrugged. “That’s to be expected. Ask around about me.”
“I will.” Misty started to reach for the phone, as though ready to start making calls now.
Ben’s smile vanished. “Don’t wait too long to trust me, Misty. This Fae you met, Oison, he’s powerful, and he’s vindictive. He wants Graham because he’d a good leader. If you want to save Graham from him, you’ll need help, and that help is me.”
Misty lowered her hand from the phone and sat back down in her chair, Ben’s declarations spinning around her thick and fast.
“Graham saved me from Flores,” Paul broke in. “I wanted to help him. Ben said he could.”
How Ben had been so handy, Misty wasn’t sure. She needed the full story before she decided anything, which meant talking to Paul alone.
If Paul had a weakness, it was in being too easily coerced. He tended to believe in people stronger than he was, and he let them talk him into things. This was why he’d been joyriding in a car with his friends when an accident had occurred that had sent Paul to prison. In prison, he’d been bullied by Sam Flores until an even bigger bully convinced Paul to trust him.
Ben could be fine, or he could be shady. Paul wasn’t the best judge of character, unfortunately.
“I’ll get back to you,” Misty said. “Now, I have a hugely busy afternoon ahead of me, as you can probably guess.”
“I’m sorry about what happened,” Ben said. “All of it. But I get it.” He lifted a sticky note from the top of her pad, grabbed a pen from her pen holder, and scribbled a number on it. “This is me. Call me when you decide—or about anything. Just remember, McNeil needs you. You can save him, but it has to be your choice.”
He stuck the yellow note in front of her, dropped the pen, gave Misty a nod, and left the office, touching his fist to Paul’s on the way out.
Paul closed the door. He faced Misty with the defiance he’d learned as he’d changed from scared teenager to a young man who’d had to grow up overnight.
“He’s legit, Misty.”
Misty spread her hands on her desk. “Where did you meet him?”
“Told you. Through my parole officer. Ben’s rehabilitated. Is doing well for himself.”
“What does he do?”
“Construction work mostly. But he knows what he’s talking about.” He gave her the little smile that reminded her of the young Paul who’d been taken away. “I wouldn’t have believed him either if I hadn’t met the Shifters and Reid. If he can help, listen to him.”
Misty lifted her hands. “How did he get in touch with you? And how did he know about what happened to me, and Graham? That’s what’s bugging me. What did you tell him?”
“Not much. He called me this morning, said he’d heard about Flores, and you and Graham getting stuck in the desert. That wouldn’t be hard to figure out, if one of Flores’s boys talked about it. Ben hears a lot about the criminal world.”
“I can see that, but what about the spells? And the Fae?”
Paul shrugged. “I have no idea, but he helps people. That I do know.”
He looked earnest, pleading. Misty let out a quiet breath. “I won’t dismiss him out of hand.” Misty’s instincts were telling her to, but she’d seen things in the last year to make her doubt her instincts. “But I need to talk to Graham first.”
Paul relaxed and gave her a nod. “Sure. Thanks, Misty.”
Paul really didn’t need to thank Misty when he was trying to do her a favor, but she understood. “Now get out of my office, kid,” she said, growling the banter they’d always used to use. “You’re distracting me.”
Paul gave her a grin and walked out, a swagger in his step.
As soon as he closed the door, Misty picked up her cell phone and punched Graham’s number. He was near the top of her favorites, right after her mother in Los Angeles. How pathetic was that?
Graham didn’t answer, and a recorded voice came on to tell Misty that the number couldn’t be reached. That worried Misty enough to call Cassidy, who told her Graham and Eric had left together on Shifter business.
“Tell him to call me,” Misty said. “It’s important.”
Cassidy promised to, then hesitated. “You all right?”
“Not really. Cass, can you or Diego find out all you can about a man called Ben . . .” Misty picked up the sticky note, “. . . Williams. I have his phone number if that helps.” She read it off.
“Sure. Who is he?”
“I have no idea. He might be fine. But I just want to know.”
“We’ll check him out.” Another pause. “If you need to talk, Misty, you know you can always call me.”
“Thanks. I think if I talk right now though, I’ll end up blithering or crying. I need to keep it together.” As she’d done her whole life.
“I get it,” Cassidy said. “Let me know.”
Misty hung up and sat a long time staring at the name and number on the sticky note. What she knew and didn’t know wrapped around each other, tangling with her emotions and making her slightly sick to her stomach. Or maybe she’d had too much green sauce at lunch.
Pressing the note back to her desk, Misty left the office. “Xav,” she said, approaching him where he was helping his guys lift shelves back onto brackets. “What did you think of the guy who just left here? Ben, Paul’s friend.”
Xav’s dark stare fixed on her, and his end of the shelf sagged. “What guy?”
“Shorter than you, hefty, dark eyes, tatts. With my brother?”
“I saw your brother, but no one else. When was this?”
“A few minutes ago. Right before Paul came out of my office.”
Xav’s focus sharpened. “I didn’t see anyone. Before or after. And I’ve been watching.”
“Oh.”
“Damn it.” Xav handed his end of the shelf to one of the other security men and moved away, taking out his phone as he stalked through the back to the alley.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Would you all calm down?” Graham roared. “I can’t hear myself think.”
Dougal had been wolf by the time he got home, sitting on the floor of Graham’s still-trashed kitchen, his muzzle lifted in howls. Nell, the she-bear who lived next door to Eric, was trying to get him to calm down, her voice as loud as Dougal’s howling. Nell, a grizzly, was a big woman, and she could yell.
Graham had learned to outshout anyone else long ago. Nell shut up, but she scowled at him. Nell was the alpha bear in Shiftertown—not that there were many bears at all—but she was in dominance about the same as Graham and Eric.
“I haven’t seen them,” Nell said. “I have Cormac and my boys out looking for them.” Nell’s “boys” were full-grown grizzlies, Shane and Brody. “Most of Shiftertown is, in fact. And Misty’s looking for you. Cassidy said she called.”
Graham had ditched Eric at the gas station and ridden hard and fast to reach Shiftertown. He’d found Dougal in the middle of the kitchen floor, wailing to the ceiling.
“Damn it.” Graham wanted Misty with every breath. His throat was so dry it ached, but even the thought of her brought a bit of ease. “Dougal, when did you last see them? Stop howling and tell me.”
&
nbsp; “He was bringing them to me to babysit,” Nell said. “They ran off when Dougal wasn’t looking.”
“Wasn’t looking?” Graham swung on her. “What the hell was he looking at?”
“Lindsay in a bathing suit.” Nell said. “Well, half a bathing suit.”
“Shit.” Graham threw up his hands. “That female needs to be hosed down. Dougal, you idiot.”
“Don’t be so hard on him,” Nell said. “He’s just come through his Transition, and his mating instinct is high. You’re the one who left two little helpless cubs with him.”
“Helpless? You’re talking about Matt and Kyle, right? They’re hiding. Playing. Must be.” Graham hoped to the Goddess they were only playing.
“We’re looking,” Nell said grimly. “We’ll find them.”
But with all the Fae activity, and Matt and Kyle featuring in the dreams—or entering the dreams, or whatever the hell was going on—Graham went sick with worry. The Fae Oison had enthralled Graham, a big, badass alpha Shifter. Kyle and Matt were tiny and vulnerable. If Oison had touched them, Graham was going to kill the Fae outside a dream and make it stick.
“Dougal will you shut up!” Graham bellowed. At the same time, his phone rang. “What?”
“Jeez, Graham,” Misty’s voice came to him. “Do you ever just say hello?”
“Misty. Sweetheart.” Graham tried to pull back into a normal speaking tone. “I’m really busy right now.”
“You’re always busy. So am I. We need to talk.”
“I can’t talk. Matt and Kyle are missing. I find them first, talk later.”
“What?” He heard her concern escalate. “Graham . . .”
“I gotta go, Misty. I’ll call you back.”
Graham closed his flip phone so he wouldn’t keep talking to her. He’d stand here and pour out all his troubles and beg her to come to him. To mate with him. To be his forever. He’d do it in front of Nell and Dougal too and not care.
He would call her back, once he sorted out what happened to Matt and Kyle, and everything else. And they’d talk as much as she wanted to.