Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 291(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 194(@300wpm)
“He knows everything, Colonel. He knew we were coming, and he knows we’re shifters. He knew who I was right down to my parents’ murders. There has to be a leak.”
There’s a creaking sound as Johnson leans back in his office chair. I can picture him now in his dimly lit office deep in the bowels of the Pentagon. He’s one of the highest ranking military officers who’s also secretly a shifter. “I was afraid of this,” he grunts. “This is why I encouraged you to apply for early discharge. Too many people in the chain of command, too many chances for someone to misplace your file. Too many eyes on the ops.”
I smirk. “I thought it was so you could send us on black ops that the military wouldn't touch.”
“Stop, boy,” he growls. “Not here. Too many ears. Let me find out what I can about Dieter. Sources tell me his wealth is growing, which means his last arms deal was profitable. We’re watching the crypto exchange he favors for big trades.”
I grimace at the phone. It sounds like Johnson wants to pull us off the mission. “What about surveillance?”
“Absolutely not. No more ops. Not until we have more intel.”
A loud growl tears out of my chest. My wolf can’t stand the idea of sitting around while the trail goes cold. Especially after what Dieter said about my family. “Sir—”
“That’s an order,” Johnson interrupts.
I don’t remind him that I don’t have to follow his orders anymore. He’s the client, not my commanding officer.
As if he guesses at my thoughts, he says, “Do not engage him. I’m serious, Sergeant.”
I bare my teeth at the blue sky. Pissing off Colonel Johnson by doing it anyway would probably be futile. Dieter is wealthy enough to fund his own private militia. The only time we’ve gotten close is because he let us. What a galling thought.
“I know you want to take him down. No one wants that more than I do,” Johnson adds quietly.
I blow out a breath that turns to smoke in the frigid air. “Yes, sir.” As much as I hate it, lying low is the best way to keep my pack safe. I won’t risk them on a suicide mission.
The best thing to do is to keep us all close together in Taos. My wolf is already going crazy trying to look after my fellow wolf shifters plus their fragile human mates. Not only do I feel responsible for the safety of Charlie and Sadie, but also the women in their close circle of friends. Like their beautiful friend Adele. She’s not pack, I shouldn’t care about her problems, but for some reason I dropped everything to help her through her recent troubles. Now that cartel has backed off, I’m breathing a little easier. But why did I care in the first place?
Expanding the pack is making me crazy.
I say to the Colonel, “Keep me posted.”
“Will do. Watch your back, son.”
I hang up and stretch. The movement pulls on my muscles and slight twinges radiate from the spots where the bullets sank into me. Soon the wounds will be fully healed, leaving only a bitter memory of meeting Dieter. I intend to never forget what he did to me nor the threat he made against my brother and his unborn pup. He’s not just a threat to me but every shifter.
Just like my parent’s murderers.
I won’t rest until all of them–Dieter, the ones who killed my family–are dead. It’s all I live for.
I head back inside, pausing in the open door to let the fresh air in. There was another reason I stepped out onto the deck to talk to the Colonel. Channing tried to cook again, and the kitchen stinks like burned broccoli. The charred scent was thick enough to make my wolf gag.
The stench lingers. To a human, the scent would be faint and fading. To a shifter, it’s like a punch in the nose.
As I walk inside, Lance wanders out of the comm room. He’s living now with his mate, Charlie, but still works for Black Wolf Security during the day when he’s not in wolf form and stalking his mate on her mail route.
My little bro raises his chin in hello and gets a whiff off the burned food.
“Gawd, that’s awful.” Lance presses a forearm to his face.
“It’s not that bad,” Channing grumbles.
Lance points at him. “The United Nations called. The next time you cook, they’re charging you with war crimes.”
Deke raises a hand. “I’ll testify at the trial.” The normally stoic wolf wears a blank expression, but the fact that he’s even cracking a joke is a sign of how his mate Sadie has changed him.
“Har, har, very funny.” Channing flips them both off. “If you don’t want me in the kitchen, why don’t you cook?”