Scent Of A Mate: League Of Gallize Shifters Page 7

  “That works for me. Gan’s not carrying a weapon.”

  “Why not?” Gan asked.

  Vic gave him a hard look. “Have you trained with guns?”

  “I never shot weapon,” Gan said, now leaning against the truck bed.

  “That makes you a liability. We won’t have time to cover you and the captives.”

  “I do not need gun or cover. I will be fine.” His eyes never moved from her as he made that casual statement.

  Vic said, “We have plenty of muscle, Gan. You’re here to observe only. Don’t take any risk. Scarlett is capable of handling herself. The Guardian wants you to get some training in the field.” Pausing to give Gan a long assessment, Vic clarified, “Don’t engage unless you’re attacked. Whatever you do, don’t allow your tiger out. Are we clear?”

  Gan swept a look over all of them. “Yes. Not wise, but you are boss today.”

  Scarlett heard truth in Gan’s yes, but she also sensed he had something on his mind he was not sharing.

  He shouldn’t be going with them unless he was prepared to engage with the enemy. In spite of Gan being a headache, she didn’t want the mouthy tiger shifter to get hurt.

  Shit. Why couldn’t life ever be simple?

  When Vic walked back to his SUV where he spoke to Adrian, Scarlett’s conscience had her circling the bed of her truck to talk to Gan.

  He leaned an elbow on the truck and propped his head on his hand, completely unconcerned about what they were about to do. She didn’t understand everything about the Gallize, having just recently been brought inside their confidence, but she’d met enough of them to know something was off about Gan.

  Non-Gallize shifters were normally born with their animal and they changed as a child, as she had. She’d seen that eagle shifter Guardian call the tiger out of Gan as a grown man only weeks ago.

  That might have fried Gan’s mind.

  She couldn’t live with herself if he died because of her own agenda. “Gan, I’ve changed my mind. Let’s call your debt paid. I’d like you to stay here with my truck.”

  “No.”

  She tried again. “A bust like this could go very wrong. You have to carry a weapon if you’re not going to shift. If you shift, I can only imagine how bad the consequences would be with your boss. I can’t ensure your safety if you go with us.”

  Vic called out, “Ready?”

  Gan stood away from the truck. “Time to lead us to innocent ones.”

  “Why are you going when I’m telling you that this is a death trap? You could get killed, dammit.”

  He moved to step past her, but leaned down and spoke softly at her ear. “Your cougar has not met me, but I do not think she hates me. I am learning to understand smell. For now, I will do as told and observe. You will keep me safe.”

  His grin gave him away. He had zero fear about what they were about to face.

  Chapter 7

  Near Erie, Pennsylvania

  “We may have found her, sir.”

  At the sound of Tantor’s shaky voice, Robert paused from hammering a thick rod of steel he’d heated repeatedly in the forge where coals glowed to white hot in the center.

  Tantor stood erect, filling the doorway to the forge Robert built on his property south of Erie, Pennsylvania. Beautiful blacksmith country, even if it didn’t look much like his native Scotland where he had superior guards.

  He would not rip those men from their homes so he created a new regiment here.

  Tantor made him long for his men in Scotland.

  That guard continued to be a disappointment. Tantor tackled any task he gave the man, but even if Robert were not a Power Baron, he would still require someone with more ability.

  Someone capable of surprising him with creative thinking.

  This one could be described as sturdy as a rock, dependable as hell, and as loyal as a Border Collie.

  But the guard feared taking a step outside a safe boundary.

  Robert functioned outside all boundaries, certainly the mark of a powerful man. Having a strong second was, too. He placed the steel back into the searing heat.

  “That’s no what I want to be hearin’, Tantor,” he said, proud his thick brogue had not diminished one bit in the past thirty years he’d spent in the United States. He missed Scotland, a land worthy of his undying loyalty, and the castle he claimed a century ago. When shifters came out to the public eight years ago, he patted himself on the back for having established a residence. He would never have left his beloved home for such long periods, but he made the strategic decision to become a member of the newly formed Power Council.

  Tantor’s voice cracked when he said, “You said ... you wanted to locate her.” He paused then cautiously added, “You’ve had us hunting her for years.”

  “Aye, but I’m no interested in maybes. I want only absolutes. Do ya know where she is or no?”

  Sweat beaded immediately on Tantor’s head even though Robert kept this room at a pleasant temperature in the sixties in spite of the heat generated by using the forge with few breaks.

  A true second-in-command would have never shown up with anything less than specifics. Vague details were sloppy.

  He had no room for sloppy in his world.

  Sweat drizzled down the side of the guard’s face.

  When Robert spoke this time, his voice came from deep inside where his power lay coiled, waiting for his command. “Ya seem a bit warm, Tantor. Must be too hot for ya. I’ll cool ya off.”

  Lifting a hand, he waved it from right to left and uttered words he learned as a child.

  A rush of icy air blasted Tantor. He shivered. His teeth chattered. He clutched his sword, one Robert had crafted, but didn’t move to wrap his arms around himself.

  Of all the Power Barons dealing with the US government, Robert had carved out his niche as a mage of the first level. Anyone that low on the magic wielding scale could not call up a tenth of Robert’s power. The human officials liked him. They thought he was the least intimidating of the council.

  Robert smiled at such naivety.

  His fault, of course. He allowed that blowhard Seamus to rule the council unchallenged. Seamus had plenty of power, a trait expected of someone who had wielded magic for 230 years.

  But that old sorcerer only formed the council to make life easy as a Power Baron, to avoid conflict with the humans, and wallow in their adulation.

  Robert joined the council so he would be in position to take over at the right time and rule humans as well as preternaturals. Underestimating him would be their greatest mistake.

  “S-s-sir? You want m-my report?”

  Robert snapped his fingers. The icy coating on Tantor’s body shattered and tinkled as it piled around his feet.

  “Aye, but be brief about it.”

  Tantor licked his blue lips and drew in a shaky breath. Drawing himself up, he said, “We’ve followed intel for months that speculated at her true identity. I’ve received recent intel that the Pagan Nomads might also be hunting her. They could have her even as we speak.”

  “Ya mean that rogue pack of mixed shifters has found her first?”

  Relief smacked Tantor’s face. “Yes, sir. I can confirm they are a mixed group of shifters.”

  Robert envisioned Tantor’s big head sitting in a jar.

  Completely missing the sarcastic expression Robert gave him, Tantor nodded like a bobblehead doll slapped from behind.

  Some days Robert hated being yes-sirred to death almost as much as he disliked the name Robert, but maintaining that identity in the human world was key to moving around undetected.

  The council knew him as Teàrlach, the Scottish Terror. Seamus made a point of sharing that the council knew of Teàrlach and his history.

  He smiled over that foolish notion.

  They knew what he’d spent considerable time planting for their underlings to find and report.

  The council had sworn a blood oath to shield their power identities from all others outside the c
ouncil. Each took a simple name for dealing with human governments.

  The reputation of every Power Council member permeated the supernatural underworld, making them more formidable as one unit.

  Even so, he’d waited a long time to get his hands on the one female capable of being his true second-in-command, an executioner who would do his bidding.

  When he got his hands on her, he would make her a legend to be feared by all.

  Once that happened, she’d fulfill a destiny only he could orchestrate.

  Tantor cleared his throat. “I will have more for you by tomorrow.”

  “Why would ya be thinkin’ that is possible?” Robert asked.

  “Because I’m not sleeping until I hand her to you. I’m running the men day and night.” Tantor stood straighter after that boast.

  Robert folded his arms then lifted a finger to his chin. “So yar men know what must be done? They are no confused?”

  “Oh, no sir. I’ve kept them informed every step so they won’t miss anything important.”

  “Weel, then, that gives me great confidence in yar operation,” Robert said with pleasure.

  A wide grin of relief split Tantor’s face. “Thank you, sir.”

  Robert pointed at the fool and murmured a simple chant.

  Tantor’s sword flew from his hand and clanged on the stone floor. His face blanched.

  Pointing at the sword he’d left heating in the coals, Robert called it by name. “Rise, Bhfeice.” As the sword withdrew from the coals, the metal glowing red, Robert gave it instructions in Gaelic.

  Bhfeice flew slowly to Tantor, whose eyes doubled in size and crossed as the blade paused at his neck.

  He shook hard as a leaf in a summer storm. “Sir?”

  Robert calmly whispered a command.

  Tantor’s hands came up to shoulder height. He stared at them as if they were foreign to his body.

  Robert snapped his fingers.

  Tantor reached for the scalding hot blade and screamed as smoke boiled and flesh burned from his hands. Stench filling the air took Robert back many decades to happy times of destroying his enemies.

  Tears poured from Tantor’s eyes. He babbled and screamed, “Please don’t, sirrrr!”

  “I hate that word, Tantor. It grates on me nerves for ya to address me as if I am a lowly English lord who would be willin’ to accept such poor performance.”

  Shouting his final words, Robert ended the constant wailing when Tantor shoved the sword through his own throat. His eyes stared at nothing, blood ran from his quivering lips that finally stopped moving.

  “Good edge,” Robert mused.

  As he watched the last trembling breath wheeze out of Tantor, Robert told the mindless idiot, “Ya shouldna ever train an underlin’ to do yar job, Tantor. That only makes it simple to replace ya.”

  However, now Robert had to choose someone in his force who would locate his female protégé and bring Isleen to him.

  Chapter 8

  Gan had a nice view of Scarlett’s backside that swayed side to side when she picked up the pace to a fast jog.

  “Keep up or find your own way,” Scarlett snapped at him without even a look over her shoulder.

  She thought he lagged behind because he could not stay with her?

  His grin widened.

  With her prickly nature, she should have a porcupine inside of her instead of a cougar.

  She could pretend it never happened all she wanted, but she’d been aroused in the truck. He hadn’t been sure until she wrenched the wheel left and he’d almost slammed into her body. He could credit his shifter reflexes for how quickly he blocked himself from hitting her, but he’d always been careful not to harm a woman.

  He’d never forgive himself if he’d caused Scarlett to wreck. Sure she could heal herself, but having bones broken hurt.

  In that tense moment when she’d realized how close he was, she could not stop her natural reaction any more than a waterfall could change directions and run uphill.

  When her arousal hit his senses, he forgot about shifting, hunting kidnappers, and even escaping to find a place to live free.

  His primal response to her scent wrecked the war that had raged between his mind and body for weeks, forcing a truce. All he could think about in that moment was her.

  Being close to her affected his animal just as much.

  The same tiger that had been slamming Gan’s insides and roaring to get out during the meeting at the bar quieted the minute Gan jumped into her truck.

  With one deep inhale, his crazy beast had surprised him by receding for the first time since Gan had become a shifter. If he had to guess, he’d say the beast had suffered confusion.

  His tiger had met someone he didn’t want to kill.

  A light wind snuck through the pine trees, dragging a fresh citrusy smell from the forest. His animal rumbled with a peace Gan was glad to have, but didn’t trust.

  He had to stay on guard that his animal didn’t catch him relaxing and force a change.

  Gan kept pace with Scarlett, determined to protect her from whatever they faced.

  Vic and Adrian better be as capable at fighting unknown shifters as they acted. If either one caused Scarlett to be injured, they’d face worse than Gan’s tiger.

  The team ran silently through the forest until an eight-foot-tall chain-link fence came into view beyond the woods. Grass grew to knee-length inside the enclosure. It appeared to be a large empty pasture separating them from more woods.

  Adrian eased up to the fence first and hovered his hand above the wire. “No electrical tingle.”

  “No livestock. What is fence for?” Gan said more to himself than anyone else. “Why not jump fence? Keep moving.”

  Scarlett studied the area. “Looks to be ten acres. Could just be a pasture someone is allowing to grow in before they move livestock or horses to graze here. But this could be camouflaging a security system to catch someone like us sneaking across it.” She shrugged. “My resource didn’t mention the fence. Since we can’t be sure it’s just a harmless enclosure, I say we go around.”

  Adrian gave Gan a smug look. “She’s right. You’d know to consider these things if you had any experience in the field.”

  Gan’s fingers fisted. Claws pushed out, stabbing his palms. He didn’t need experience to wipe that smile from Adrian’s face.

  Scarlett wasted no time taking off and circling the fence. When they reached the other side, she turned onto a path worn down by animals. Most prints appeared to be made by hooves. She slowed her speed, sweeping a look from side to side as she continued toward light sliding between trees to indicate open ground soon.

  Gan kept watch, too, as he had every day around jackal shifters in the camps where he’d been held prisoner.

  Jackals couldn’t be trusted.

  Not even to follow camp rules.

  His nose picked up so many smells out here. Too many to separate, except Scarlett’s. He could pinpoint hers in a cluster of scents.

  He’d only focused so closely on one other female before now. When he met Siofra, a young woman in his last prison camp, he kept an eye on her as he would a little sister around predators. In return for his friendship, she helped him improve his English and watched his back when he’d have seizures.

  He had no idea at the time that a tiger was trying to break out of him. It would never have happened had he not met the Gallize Guardian who called up his beast.

  No one had been more shocked than Gan when his body started changing.

  He had yet to decide if he should be thankful or not. Before his first shift, he’d suffered constant head and body pain that had begun to worsen until he’d black out.

  After his shift, he felt better physically, but returned to life as a captive for someone else.

  There had to be a way to live as a free person.

  He could not get rid of this tiger, but he would not be ruled by the animal either. If he could just get to Maine, then maybe Canada, he would
live out what days he had left in the wilderness, a better place for dealing with his animal.

  Scarlett stopped.

  Gan sidestepped to keep from running her over.

  Vic whispered, “Pay attention, Gan.”

  He sent Vic a glare of warning. His tiger snarled, Too close.

  Gan ignored Vic to converse telepathically with his tiger. He asked, Too close to what?

  Woman.

  That’s when Gan noticed Vic slowly closing the distance between him and Scarlett.

  His tiger erupted with anger, lashing Gan’s insides.

  Gan hissed and grabbed his side with one hand. He held up the other one palm out to Vic and Adrian. “Stop.”

  Adrian’s eyebrows lifted in a look that dared him to give that order again.

  Vic shook his head. He reminded Gan, “Observe. That means no talking.”

  He’d spoken softly, but Scarlett turned to Vic then to Gan. She noticed his hand on his side and lifted her eyebrows in question.

  Gan quickly told her, “All good. No worry.”

  “Then be quiet, dammit,” she said in a terse whisper.

  Why was everyone yelling at him? Gan told his tiger, You heard. Be quiet or you get Scarlett hurt.

  His tiger kept up low rumbling snarls, but at least he stopped using Gan’s insides like a punching bag.

  She waved them to follow her then moved forward.

  Gan stayed closer to her, keeping the other two Gallize behind him. When the trees thinned, he saw horses huddled at one end of a fenced area, a large barn, and a farmhouse with white siding and red shutters.

  Was Scarlett sure about this place?

  It didn’t look like a trafficking business, based on what she’d described. He inhaled to see if he could smell anything that would hint at what to expect. He almost choked on filling his lungs with the stench of fresh horse manure.

  She squatted down behind a pile of brush that had been cleared from the trail and turned to them.

  Gan dropped to one knee next to her.

  Vic and Adrian did the same, but faced her.

  She checked her watch. “It’s almost six. The truck should be here by now. What I heard them talking about sounded like they were making a specific stop here, but maybe this was just a pickup point. I hope the truck didn’t arrive early, pick up more women, then leave.”