Legend of the White Wolf (Heart of the Wolf #4)

Legend of the White Wolf (Heart of the Wolf #4) Page 43

"This is private," he snapped at Gavin, ignoring Leidolf.

Faith felt badly for Gavin who wanted to stick by his partner's side, but was being dismissed by everyone he came in contact with, even his own partner.

"Do you want me to talk to Gavin about the situa tion?" Trevor offered, his voice rather meek, and Faith hated that he seemed cowed before the great Kintail.

"Yes, take him up to the lodge." Kintail glanced at Gavin. "We have a pack of serial killers on the loose. We could use your services since you and Cameron put two of the police officers working the case, who were coming to ask your aid in solving this crime, in the hospital."

Gavin looked a little gray. Cameron motioned for him to leave with Trevor. Kintail glowered at Leidolf. "He can go with you also."

Leidolf gave Kintail a sinister smile, then bowed his head slightly and left with Trevor and Gavin, shutting the door behind them.

"Where the hell are my partners, Kintail?" Cameron asked, his hand rubbing Faith's shoulder, but his whole body vibrated with anger.

"They're gone, slipped away. My people haven't located them yet."

"You want our help finding your killers, then we do this my way," Cameron said.

"Our way," Faith corrected him. If she was going to be an alpha pack leader's mate, it would be an equal partnership. She smiled at Cameron when he frowned down at her.

For the first time, a hint of amusement crossed Kintail's face. But then he was back to being dour again. "You can't have your men—"

"I want them here with me. With the four of…" Cameron paused. "… five of us, well six if Leidolf wants to still help, we'll catch these killers. But we won't bother otherwise. Our sole focus is locating my partners and getting them out of here."

"Are you quite finished?" Kintail asked, folding his arms.

"I don't want my father killed," Faith said, choking a little on the words when she had planned to sound as firm and forthright as Cameron.

"It's not up to me," Kintail said, his words softening.

"What do you mean it's not up to you? You sent Hilson after him, right?"

"No, he went on his own, but Kenneth O'Malley is in Leidolf's territory. He'll have to deal with him now."

Faith just stared at Kintail, the words sifting through her brain but not making any sense. Why didn't Leidolf say anything before this? Because he thought she would be upset if she heard what he intended to do? She was torn between racing to the lodge and forcing Leidolf's response and staying with Cameron to provide a unified front until they got his concession concerning his partners.

"We'll talk to Leidolf, Faith," Cameron said, then kissed her cheek. The threat in his voice indicated they'd get their way on this so not to worry. But she did worry. What if they weren't in time? What if they were already too late?

Cameron focused again on Kintail. "Do we have a deal? My partners released to me in exchange for our help in finding your serial killers?"

"I told you, they escaped. They're on their own now, most likely headed in this direction."

"But you have men trying to recapture them, don't you?" Cameron asked.

Kintail abruptly sat down at the table and drummed his long fingers on the oak top, his gaze fixed on Faith, his unspoken word speaking volumes. He wanted Faith, and he was bound to have her. As for Cameron's partners? He didn't seem willing to give them up easily either. Which meant?

Cameron was a dead man.

She refused to back down from Kintail's impertinent gaze, furrowed her brow and gave him the devil back. His lips lifted slightly.

Very low, very dark, and very meaningfully, Cameron said, "She's mine."

She squeezed his waist, glad he'd stand up to Kintail.

Conceited, all knowing, Kintail's gaze slowly switched to Cameron as if he were an insignificant gnat. "You're a newbie, don't have a clue what you're doing, or the ramifications of what you are now. She needs someone with experience. Someone like me." But he didn't emphasize the someone as much as he did the me.

"We're mated," Faith said.

Kintail raised his brows at her.

"Leidolf said that if wolves are mated, they can't seek anyone else. So Cameron and I are mated. You'll have to stick with Lila or someone else who can put up with you."

This time Kintail's smile was slightly more than a hint, as if she'd really amused him, and as if he wasn't used to showing a lighter side of his personality and didn't know how to do it. But the smile wasn't a good indication because it meant—at least to her way of thinking—he either didn't believe she and Cameron were mated, which according to their werewolf tradi tions, they weren't, or he didn't care. In which case that reverted back to the case of—Cameron was a dead man.

The snowmobilers were running David and Owen ragged as they tried to protect Elizabeth, but to no avail. If the two men hadn't had such healthy hearts after they'd been turned, Owen figured they'd have been run to death by now. When he smelled wood smoke and the lake, he guessed they were close to Charles's resort. But they couldn't move any closer. Every time they tried to dive through the spruces, another snowmobiler hemmed them in.

Then one of the men pulled in front of Owen and yanked out a gun. If they were the guys who were killing the werewolves, the bullets would be silver and the three of them were good as dead. Kintail's men never resorted to guns, except on a hunt. But never to track Owen down, even the last two times he'd escaped.

He lunged, ready to kill the man when something hit him in the flank with a sharp stab of pain. He yelped. And fell in midair, landing on his belly. What the hell, he thought, his mind drifting like the sparse clouds in the darkening blue sky.

David nudged his face with his nose as if telling him to get up. He could smell David's fear, but then a shot was fired again, and David collapsed against his legs. Elizabeth growled and lunged for one of the shooters and a third shot was fired. She yelped and collapsed. David growled low from his prone position in the snow. Owen wished David had been given the chance to have had a life with Elizabeth. Owen always figured he and a partner might die together on a mission. He only wished they'd accomplished it, ensured Elizabeth's safety, and seen Cameron and Gavin one last time.

Incarcerated at some unknown location, Lila stalked back and forth across the basement that smelled like wet cement, musty and moldy. If she'd had allergies, she figured she'd be sneezing her head off. She glowered at David, Owen, and Elizabeth sleeping still as wolves in the big cage against the wall, angered they wouldn't wake up, as many times as she'd poked at them through the bars with a cane she had found behind a bunch of old crates.

She began pacing again. Fourteen steps led to the door to the basement. Forty steps across the main floor both ways. The windowless room was dark, but she could see just fine. She stopped and listened. Traffic noises. They were in a town or city. Millinocket maybe?

She paced again. Thankfully, they didn't think a female werewolf was as dangerous as a male, and so they'd taken her without drugging her. She hadn't fought them either, because a female in human form was no match for three human males. So they'd treated her like a lady. She knew they had to be the ones who killed Sutter at their office, from the scent the redhead had—deodorant not working, aftershave smelled like pine floor cleaner—but they couldn't get a scent of the killer at the other crime scene. Not with the blizzard wreaking havoc with it.

But once Kintail and his men got through with these killers, she was ready to return to the frigid Canadian Arctic for a vacation. At that instant, she realized Kintail was the one she looked for to rescue her. Not Cameron, the newly turned wolf. But Kintail, centuries-old Kintail, who would locate her and free her, and if she played her cards right, she would show him just how much she appreciated the rescue. Some part of her finally recognized she'd been holding onto the past, unwilling to let go, feeling as though her mate and child's death were her own damn fault. Yet deep down, she knew it wasn't. Knew her mate wanted the role of alpha pack leader, knew he couldn't win it. She'd only wanted him, but he hadn't been happy as the second in command. And he'd died for it.

She paced across the floor some more. So why did she feel at fault? She was an alpha female, and he felt inferior not being the alpha leader. But she knew he'd never make it against the leader. And little Tristen just got in the way when the two men fought. No one could protect him when her mate and the leader tore into each other.

Lila closed her eyes and rested her hand against the wall for support. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't pushed her mate to fight the leader. She'd been assisting another female in labor, so her mate was supposed to have been watching Tristen. It wasn't her fault.

Wiping away tears, she climbed the creaky stairs again, pressed her ear against the wooden door, and listened.

Kintail still had a thing for that Faith O'Malley. If Lila eliminated her, Kintail would know it. He'd condemn her to death or send her far, far away.

Which made her take stock of what she had… a winter lodge here, a summer lodge up north, a bunch of pack members that treated her like the alpha pack leader's mate, even if she wasn't Kintail's chosen mate, yet. And what of Kintail?

Two years ago, he'd tried to encourage her interest in him when she'd fled the pack, where the politics were brutal, her mate murdered, and her child killed. She hadn't known how to live. Or love again.

Kintail had been so patient with her, waiting, watching, and finally giving up on her when Faith O'Malley suddenly appeared. But she wondered if some of his attraction to Faith had to do with his brother wanting her first. Lila didn't really think Hilson loved her or he would have turned her and mated with her three months ago. Or maybe Kintail's interest in her only had to do with Lila's refusal to show him any real affection.

She growled at her inability to change back to the person she was, the person before her beloved mate and son were murdered.