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  "When you get sick of him hanging off your back,” Decker said in a thick southern accent, “you know where I live, Angel.” He winked at me.

  I smirked. “I'll bet your housewarming party went well. Not too many people are able to move up from the gutter to a cardboard box."

  More laughter ensued. Decker smiled, shaking his head before taking a swig of his beer.

  "Okay guys,” Dane said, raising a hand. “We need to get down to business.” He waited a moment for everyone to calm down before filling us in.

  From last reports, the rogue pack had at least four members and might have had a den around the town of Cary. Tomorrow, we would scope out the area and scout for clues so we could get the lay of the land. Each human would team up with a werewolf tomorrow night and set out on the hunt.

  Riley raised his hand, sinister grin teasing his lips.

  Dane sighed. “What is it, Riley?"

  "What side of the race pool is Angel on? I'll be more than happy to watch her from behind."

  Fed up, I slammed my empty glass against the back of his hand and pushed him off the end of the bench. I snagged a chair from a nearby table and parked it next to Dane's.

  Our fearless leader said nothing. He cocked an eyebrow and let it go. Not everyone else. Laughter circled around the table loud enough to rival the cheering at the bar over a touchdown on TV.

  When things settled down, Dane said, “She's a werewolf as far as I'm concerned, and Fisk is teaming up with her."

  A wave of relief drenched over me. I would've remained locked in my room had it been anyone else.

  Papa-bear-proud, Graham slid my kill journal across the table as a welcome home gift. Knowing him, he saw it as a trophy and took pride in showing it around at the Club headquarters in Charleston. I documented the time, place, and number of kills in that book. I slid it back across the table and told him he could keep it because it was unnecessary for this hunt. On the drive here, I had already decided that this would be my last outing.

  Dane jerked his head ever so slightly. He wanted to me to follow him as he made his way to the bar.

  "Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked.

  "No,” I replied, leaning on the bar with my back to the man sitting next to me. Every now and then, I swore he inched his stool closer.

  Dane scrutinized me with a stare. “Fisk has his heart set on a kill tomorrow. Can I trust you to watch his back?"

  "I'll do what I have to do, but I'm not going out of my way to find trouble. That's Riley and Decker's job. I hung up my crossbow, Dane, so don't expect me to live up to your standards.” My personal space defenses clicked on. The man sitting next to me reached across the counter for the bowl of mixed nuts. I knocked them in his direction so that he would move back to his side of the bar. He didn't.

  "Nobody's expecting you to pick up where you left off. Hell, I'm praying we're as half as good as we were. But I have a right to know if you're a danger to Fisk. I've lost ten good people and I don't intend to lose anymore. Other than Decker, Fisk is one of the best human hunters this Club has. Can I leave him in your hands?"

  The stranger brushed against my arm while reaching for a stack of napkins. Picking up the whole pile, I slammed them down in front of him.

  "Fisk is my best friend,” I snarled. “I would never endanger him or anyone else in this Club and you know it. Don't you dare sit there and question my loyalty now."

  "It's not your loyalty I'm not questioning. It's your hunter's instinct. Face it, Angel, we're all soft right now."

  The man brushed me while trying to put the napkins back, and brushed me again retracting his arm.

  That did it.

  With lightning fast speed, I snatched his wrist before he could clamp it around his beer. He jumped. I began squeezing, applying pressure by the poundage as the man choked on a scream. Before the bones could snap, I stopped bluing his hand.

  Keeping my voice low, I snarled, “Touch me one more time and you'll feel phantom pain for the rest of your pathetic life."

  I pushed him so hard that his butt left the seat, knocking the stool to the floor. He flew through the air and slammed into a table across the way where two woman sat, spilling their drinks on the top of his head. My attention turned back to Dane.

  "Any questions?"

  He raised his hands in defeat and shook his smirking face. Our entire table looked on, cracking smiles and laughing at the guy on the floor. Fisk raised his beer to me.

  Chapter 15

  Matt weighed so heavily on my mind that I couldn't close my eyes without seeing his face. If anything happened to him, I was certain that someone would call. Stephan and Aiyana had my cell number. To be honest, I missed his voice, his hands, his body ... Everything that made me fall in love with him fed my desire to have him near to me. Waking up to find him gone from our bed, yet feeling the warm spot he left behind, curled a smile on my lips. Back home, he would have been in the kitchen cooking breakfast by now. Smells of omelets with green peppers, onions, and mushrooms would fill the air around me. Bacon and French toast would follow. If I didn't get up, Matt would come and get me up by crawling into bed and dropping kiss after kiss on my lips. The moment he heard me giggling, he'd put a strawberry up to his mouth and feed me the other end. With that kind of morning service, getting out of bed was a pleasure.

  The hint of bleach, lemon cleaning solvent, and industry laundered sheets broke me out of my fantasy. Reality dealt me a startling blow the moment I recalled being in North Carolina. I rolled over in the fetal position and silently cried.

  The room itself wasn't bad. I had a king size bed, large television, and decent bathroom. Muster yellow and navy blue tones decorated the room. A large picture of a man fishing on a lake hung over my bed. Beyond the bedroom, there was a merged living room and dining area. A large, lengthwise window stretched across one side of the room, giving me a view of the woods and the line of cars parked diagonally below. I had a blue couch and matching recliner with a fireplace sitting to the left of that.

  Around nine in the morning, Graham called, asking me about breakfast. I declined his invitation and went back to bed. Five minutes later, Riley knocked at the door. Wearing nothing except for a large t-shirt and pair of underwear, I opened the door and pointed the crossbow in his face. He made his usual provocative comments concerning my attire. Since he didn't seem the least bit threatened by the crossbow, I shoved him out of the suite and slammed the door in his face. Dane knocked on my door less than a minute later, forcing his way inside. He gave Riley a warning about keeping his mind on the hunt, and me keeping my mind off his antics. After his fifteen-minute speech, I crawled into bed to pick up where I had left off with drowning in my misery. He crawled in next to me, laying his head inches from mine, harassing me till I joined everyone for breakfast. Angry, I pushed him on the floor and stomped into the bathroom to change.

  Dane could talk a person into a coma with his vast amounts of knowledge. Everyone in the Club saw it as a means of slow torture whenever he wanted things done his way. Too bad it worked.

  We drove to a nearby Cracker Barrel for a monumental breakfast. Fisk let me have the wall on the other side of him so I could keep my distance from Riley, Dane, and my uncle. What a way to start off a hunt. I couldn't stand a third of the people here. Picking up on the tension, Scott sat across from me. He took pleasure in getting to know me better, although I gave him general information.

  "This isn't the first time I've hunted rogues,” he said, then sipped his coffee. “Being in a group is a little different. Even Pack LA doesn't do group hunts like this. But since Dane asked me to come on board, I sure as hell couldn't pass up an offer like that."

  "Pack LA?” I asked, and sipped my orange juice.

  From last night's conversation, Scott came across as a man who liked to talk. Good for him. But for me, that meant my mind blocked out every other word. I could be wrong, but he reminded me of a brown-nosing Project Manager that worked out of our office. And
if he was the type who wanted to emulate Dane in every way, he would get jumped by the rest of us sooner or later. None of us needed another—nice as he seemed—ass wipe crawling under our skin. But to keep the peace, I closed my mouth and let Scott do all the talking, since he was so good at it.

  He half-laughed. “It's what we call ourselves. Gotta be special, you know."

  I sipped my orange juice, having nothing else to say. Unlike most people, I appreciate awkward moments of silence because they allow me time not to think.

  Fisk shoved a wad of pancakes in his mouth. Then pointed his fork and me and said, “Did you know she's into bioinformatics and about to get her real estate license? Smart as hell, this one. Both on the field and off."

  Stop making conversation, Fisk. I don't want to talk to him anymore. Can't I just get through this meal without having to indulge a stranger in conversation?

  "Keeping busy,” Scott said, nodding. “That's good as long as you like what you're doing. Me? I'm a child psychologist working at a practice on the outskirts of LA. When I'm not doing that, I coach a little league team. Believe it or not, a group of wild screaming kids is music to my ears. Especially after I've had a bad session."

  I stared, fighting back the giggles stirring around inside me. “You can relax, Scott, you've got the job. The interview process ended when Dane asked you to join."

  He grinned, wiping his lips and revealing a smile behind his napkin. “Huh?"

  I shook my head and smiled. “I didn't ask you for your life story. I only wanted you to pass the butter."

  "Then how did the rogue thing come up?"

  "I don't know. My mind bailed on that part of the conversation."

  Snickers cracked around the table as a line of heads turned in our direction. Riley laughed so hard that he turned red and a piece of egg flew out of his mouth. When the waitress came around, Graham could only point at his empty glass of grapefruit juice because his laughing had turned into a coughing fit. Decker smoothed a hand through his blond stringy hair and slumped back in the chair, tickled to the point that he hadn't finished swallowing the moist biscuit curds in his mouth. The only person who seemed to keep his composure was Dane. Oh, he turned a nice shade of fuchsia, but at least he didn't drop his silverware or have anything trickling from his mouth.

  "Just like the good old days,” he said, shaking his head and grinning.

  After spending two hours devouring breakfast, running our waitress back and forth to the kitchen, we left a hefty tip and split up so that we could check out Cary.

  For a small town, it was coming up in the world. Two-story red brick specialty stores, a railroad track cutting through town, trees, and carefully trimmed hedges made it look quaint. The chances were slim that we would find anything, but it never hurt to look. Fisk, Scott, and I chose the downtown area for our scouting expedition. The others split themselves between a nearby mall and a shopping plaza only a few minutes away. Although our senses should have been on alert, the guys spent more time window shopping and ogling passing women than on the task at hand. When Scott motioned Fisk into a model building shop—checking every corner, they called it—I knew this was a hopeless battle. Waving them away, I decided to take advantage of the situation, too, and call Matt.

  "So how are things going in Miami?” I asked.

  "We're thinking about pulling the contract,” Matt said. “A new hotel is going up right next door and they're offering a full service spa. The pack isn't in the mood for competing with the next door neighbors. We'll either back off or find another place to build. But I don't want to talk about me anymore. I want to know about your trip."

  "It's going okay.” No, it's not. This is one of the most miserable trips I've ever taken in my entire life because you're not here. Between an overbearing leader, a pain in the neck beta werewolf, and a meddlesome uncle, things are going from worse to a bucket of pig shit.

  "You don't sound like you're having fun. You feeling okay?"

  "I'm fine, babe. Just a little tired is all."

  "Don't tell me you're still not getting enough sleep.” A deep sigh. “That does it. No more excuses. When you get back to Atlanta, you're going to see Bryce."

  "Who the heck is Bryce?” I shook my head as though he could see it. “Never mind. Look, would you stop worrying? Didn't Stephan say you needed to keep your mind on your work anyway? Besides, things will be back to normal once we're both home."

  "You sound so sure about that. Anyway, Bryce is the pack's doctor. And from what I hear he's good even if he is a human. He takes that Hippocratic Oath thing serious enough to extend it to werewolves. Plus, it won't hurt you to get a check-up."

  My gut corkscrewed. “You know how much I hate doctors.” A beep came over my phone. Glancing at the number, I recognized it as Dane's. “Look, I'll have to call you later. Don't worry about me and I'm not going to see Bryce. Love you. Bye.” I clicked over to Dane.

  "Why didn't you pick up sooner?” he asked.

  "Because I was talking to my husband. What do you want?"

  "Have you guys found out anything yet?"

  "No. We've been walking around for hours and the only scent we came across is fresh pastries from a local bakery. We're not going to find anything wandering around aimlessly like this."

  "That's why we're coming to pick you guys up. Wait at the train station where we dropped you off."

  "Does that mean we're calling it a day and going back to the hotel?” Please, say yes. Please, oh, please, oh, please...

  "No. We're heading to the area where Alan last reported spotting one of the rogues."

  My heart shuddered at the sound of his name. Not once during this trip had anyone mentioned their names or speculated on their demise. We knew the rogues had the biggest hand in our fellow wolves’ disappearance.

  Alan had taught me a lot about what it meant to be a werewolf, even more about life itself and how important it was that I found my own way. He knew both worlds could be cruel, so whenever I caught him in passing either at Dane's house or on a trip, he never let me get away with saying anything less than five words if he asked me about my day. Dear God, I would miss him.

  "Hello?” Dane said, taking me out of my thoughts. “You still there?"

  "Yeah,” I muttered. “Just thinking."

  A sigh. “Yeah, I know. This is a rough trip for everyone. That's why I want it done right. And in case I didn't say this before, I'm sorry about not telling you about Matt's contract. In fact—"

  "Forget it,” I said. A notch of anger rose in my chest.

  This was not the time or the place for exerting hostilities and clearing the air. We had a job to finish and that's what mattered. When this was over, I planned to go home, kiss my husband, and praise God that we still had each other.

  A ray of sun broke through the clouds above, forcing me to shield my eyes. A thought came to mind. “You said we were going to find the place where the rogues were last spotted. Aren't you worried about attracting attention in broad daylight?"

  "If we can scope out the area, then we came formulate a better plan of attack for tonight. I'll take my chances. If we come across nosy spectators, we'll just tell them we're hiking."

  After I dragged the guys away from a model train set, Dane and one of the other human hunters picked us up. We drove to Umstead State Park, which lay directly on the Raleigh-Cary border. Instead of going the normal route, we parked on a side road and trekked through a thick wooded area until we crossed over onto the park property.

  Those who had strong scenting abilities sniffed the air for any possible clues of the rogue pack traipsing the locale between meals. Every rock and tree we passed, we checked for blue chalk markings. Whenever we went out in our scouting parties, Dane made sure that at least one person knew how to read a compass and a map. It made backtracking easier. Though each of us had a good sense of direction and could use our noses, rain and high winds would make it harder to track a scent. That was when a visual aid came in handy.

&n
bsp; A huge rock face came up on our path. With great reluctance, I assumed my role as a sniper and proceeded to scale it. Rock climbing was not my forte, but being a sniper kept me away from the chaotic gunfire, sharp claws, guttural growls, and foaming mouths. Unlike most of the G.I. Janes, I lived in reality where you kept your butt out of the way and not flapping in the breeze. That was one lesson that kept me alive all my bounty hunting years. Call me chicken-shit if you want, but at least I live to tell the tale.

  I hauled myself over the edge and dusted off my clothes before getting a good look around. Not much to see other than trees and underbrush. Fisk and the other human scooped out the area surrounding the cliff while the others gazed at me, some shielding their eyes from the peek-a-boo sun that darted around behind the rustling foliage.

  "How does it look up there?” Dane asked.

  I glanced around, visually measuring the space to see if there was enough room to lay flat. Sitting would be the best option, but the rock face dipped down into a dense tangle of bushes and what looked like poison ivy. “It won't work,” I said, gazing about twenty feet below. “Not enough maneuvering room. Plus, I didn't come all this way to get mauled by poison ivy."

  "Climb down so we can keep looking,” he said, reaching his hands up for me.

  I waved him off; I didn't need his help. Dane ignored me anyway and gestured with hands that he'd catch me. Lowering myself over the edge, I kicked away from the rock face and landed, feet smacking the ground, right beside him. Impressed, he smirked and sized me up with his eyes, taking in my steadfast agility. Eight months out of practice hadn't exactly dulled my innate reflexes. I thought he knew that.

  "I think I've got something here,” Scott shouted.

  We converged in his direction. Sure enough, a faint werewolf scent lingered in the shrubbery. Dane unclipped his cell phone and called the others with orders to meet us back at the hotel. Since the majority of the werewolves were in our party, it didn't make sense for Riley and Gregorio to join us. We weren't hunting anything yet. Only reconnaissance. I thanked the heavens above for that small favor.