Redford
THE SOUND of yelling woke him up.
Jed was up before Redford even opened his eyes. “What’s going on?” Redford managed to mumble, rolling his way out of bed to find his pants. He couldn’t pick out any words in the yelling, but the stench of fear was obvious.
As soon as Redford had a shirt on, he tumbled after Jed out the cabin door, eyes barely open—Jed had a gun out, his posture relaxed but alert, moving quickly with his body half turned toward the source of the yelling to present less of an easy target. Jed hadn’t bothered to find clothes, not that he seemed concerned about standing in the chilly early morning air in nothing but his boxers. The sun hadn’t even started to get close to the horizon.
There was a half circle of wolves already gathered around a young girl who looked no more than thirteen, terror making her mouth thin and her eyes wide. She’d fallen to her knees, drawing in desperate pants of air. Mallory was there already, standing protectively over her, one hand on her shoulder. She smelled subtly different than the rest of this pack, a wolf, but from a different family.
Since Jed wasn’t even half-dressed and was brandishing a gun, Redford grabbed his arm to stop him from getting too close. “She’s from one of the smaller packs,” he murmured to Jed.
Jed didn’t even glance over at him, just giving a tight nod, jaw working. “The goddamn hunters,” he breathed, eyes narrowing. Redford could almost see the wheels spinning in Jed’s head as he put pieces together, watching the girl as she was practically engulfed by the worried pack. “You go sniff out some details. I’m getting the supplies.”
As Jed left, Redford edged closer to the group. He’d never been good at stealth, but in this case everybody was too distracted to notice him. It worked well enough. In the chaos of noise and questions he could see Mallory turning to another wolf, speaking lowly under his breath about the girl’s pack: ten miles to the northeast, about twenty wolves.
Jed was right. The hunters had hit. Some members of the pack were wrapping a blanket around the girl, giving her water, making a place for her to sit on the benches around the fire. None of them were asking questions. In fact, no one at all seemed in much of a hurry.
“What happened?” Edwin was next to Redford, looking sleep tousled and only half-awake. Randall was after him, clucking his tongue and handing Edwin a sweater to wrap around his bare shoulders. “Who’s that?”
“I don’t think it’s any of our business, Edwin,” Randall started, but Edwin didn’t seem to be listening. He darted around the bustling wolves, going to the girl. He was in pajama pants and Randall’s gray sweater, looking ridiculous, but he smiled at the girl, took her hands, asking her questions in a low voice Redford couldn’t quite make out.
“What is this, a party?” Jed had arrived, bag slung around his shoulder, dressed all in black. “We going or not? Who’s got details?”
“It was hunters.” Edwin appeared back through the crowd, normally cheerful face thunderous. “Tala, that’s the girl, she was asleep when her dad woke her up. The pack smelled them and sent her for help. At least five of them, she thinks, and they stank of metal and gunpowder.”
“Where they at now?” Jed was rifling through his pack, checking his guns again. It was a ritual, Redford knew. Jed liked to be prepared. “Gunfire yet, or no?”
Edwin shook his head. “She got away clean, and the pack apparently has a fallback cave they use when people get too close. It’s by the river, about ten miles up.”
“Northeast,” Redford chimed in. “I heard Mallory talking about it. We can run there in twenty minutes or so.”
“Maybe you can,” Jed grumped. “Two hours for me. Remember, I’ve got half the legs.”
“Drive it?” Randall had come closer, dark eyes serious behind his glasses. “Those maps you’ve got, they show all the forest roads, right? There has to be access points. If I remember correctly, that direction has the fire trails, so there’ll be something drivable for most of the ride. We can run, you can follow.”
“We?” Jed’s eyebrow raised. “You too, specs?”
Randall snorted. “Edwin is already planning on going. I’m hardly going to stay here and let him go alone.”
“Hell yes I’m going,” Edwin practically growled. “And we’re running out of time.”
“Give me a gun.” Victor had appeared at Jed’s left flank, holding out his hand. “I’m coming too.”
Redford could probably list about twenty reasons giving Victor a gun was a very bad idea. Jed seemed to agree with him because he held his bag a little closer, as if protecting his weapons from Victor’s hands. “Am I being pranked?” Jed asked, looking between Victor and Randall. “Seriously, is this nerds gone wild?”
“Just give him a gun, Jed.” Anthony’s voice came from behind Randall. He’d approached them after sniffing around the edges of the pack, hovering just outside of the range of where Mallory and the Gray Lady were talking together. “An unloaded one, if it makes you feel better.”
Victor went to protest, probably on the verge of giving Anthony a very stern lecture, but Anthony was already in the middle of shifting. He butted his head against Jed’s knee, a clear we’re heading out.
Redford could see Jed glancing at the girl and then back at Victor, obviously having a very brief, very intense mental war. Finally he handed over one of his precious guns, gently wrapping Victor’s hands around the butt. “Safety,” he murmured, coming closer to Victor to give him a quick lesson. “Trigger. Keep your finger here, on the guard, until you’re ready to shoot. Safety on until I say so. It’s loaded and ready, so don’t aim at anything you don’t want shot off, no matter what. Holster’s in my bag.” He handed said pack off to Victor. “Keep close, keep your head down, and for fuck’s sake, princess, don’t get shot.”
With that, Jed took off toward Mallory and the Gray Lady. Randall and Edwin had followed their brother’s lead, shifting, Edwin keeping close by Jed’s side. Redford shot Anthony a sideways look, searching for stiffness or signs of pain. If he was feeling it, he was better at hiding the symptoms than Redford expected. Then again, he suspected adrenaline might be playing a part in that. Redford contemplated changing as well but decided against it—his shift would only take up time. Instead, he went to Victor and dug around in the pack for his gun, buckling the shoulder holster on.
“I don’t know what you think you’re going to do,” Mallory was saying. “We can’t go running after every wolf in trouble. Put the guns down.”
“These people are getting attacked, possibly as we’re all standing around, jerking each other off.” Jed’s voice was rising to a shout with every word. “Are you seriously telling me you’re just going to let them die? Ten miles away, and you’re going to what, shut your doors and pretend it isn’t happening?”
“Every pack looks after itself,” Mallory argued. “We’re in danger enough as it is. We don’t want to piss these hunters off even more and bring retaliation down on our heads. We’re not ready for that.”
“What about you, sweetheart?” Jed turned to the Gray Lady, hands spread in supplication. She stood slightly behind Mallory, likely through no choice of her own—Mallory looked every inch the guard right then, standing tall, shoulders squared. “Tell me this bozo isn’t speaking for you too.”
“There are laws, human.” Her voice was low and sad but firm. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Jed paused, glaring at both of them. His guns were strapped to his hips, a long machete across his back, standing so at odds with the soft, unarmed dress of the Gray Lady. She was fierce and restrained, but Jed looked like barely contained fire, like a storm just about to break. His fury was nearly palpable in the line of his shoulders, the scorch of his glare. “Yeah. That’s me,” he gritted. “Just a goddamn human.”
He turned away, going to where the rest of the pack was mingling. “Listen up.” Jed raised his voice to be heard, ignoring any incredulous looks from the rest of the wolves. “If I wanted to let people die while I sat around and pretended I didn’t hear them screaming for help, I’d have stayed in my old job. As it is, I’ve got a bag full of guns, enough explosives to take down a building, and a direction to point both in. If you want to come, fall in behind tall, dark, and furry over there.” Jed motioned to Anthony. “He’s going for a run. I’ll be your friendly neighborhood backup van. If you’d rather stay here, well, fuck you.”
The pack around them fell silent. Jed didn’t wait for a reaction. He was already striding across the field toward their van, whistling sharply at Anthony. “Let’s go, Lassie.”
Anthony didn’t look impressed, but he turned, looking back over his shoulder at the gathered pack. One of the wolves, a young woman with dark hair, stepped forward to incredulous murmurs, shifting smoothly and falling into line alongside Anthony. Then another did the same, and another, until five of the younger adults of the pack were grouped with the Lewises.
They didn’t waste another second. Anthony raised a howl—a call to arms—and they started running, streaking out of the camp. Redford followed suit, making a quick pace toward the van, joining Jed and Victor there. They didn’t speak, and Jed only gave them two seconds to buckle up before he hit the gas.
“Need that big, beautiful brain of yours, Fido,” Jed muttered, pushing the van faster, the old vehicle rattling dangerously. Once they got off the main trail leading to the camp, the road to the northeast was little more than a well-worn dirt track. “You got those maps memorized?”
“Well enough, I hope,” Redford replied. He’d gotten himself into the backseat, and he nudged Victor to move so he could lean over the back to sort through their bigger equipment, one hand holding on to the seat to steady himself with the bouncing of the van. “Do you think you’ll want your grenade launcher? Or are we going smaller?”
“Big Bertha definitely should come out to play.” Jed’s voice was grim, and as he banked a sharp turn, the van practically bounced up onto two tires. “I’m not feeling in a subtle mood.”
“You have a grenade launcher?” Victor squawked.
“You’d actually be surprised how useful they are,” Redford said. He tugged Big Bertha up and laid it over two empty seats. “Jed, I’ve got explosive rounds, hollow points, and jacketed. The jacketed’s probably a bit overkill. What do you need to know about the maps?”
Their exchanges were rapid-fire, Jed not even having to look up from the road to check on Redford’s work. They knew each other now, they knew how to anticipate the other’s thinking, what the other would need or where they’d go. It was a partnership that Redford hadn’t even realized was fully forming until it gelled so easily. “Best route,” Jed shot back. “River or mountain.”
There were two main fire trails. One followed the meandering path of the river, sticking close to water, and the other went up onto the mountainside, getting the higher ground. Both headed in the right direction, and both wound up by the lake a hundred miles up, but if they took the wrong one, they could wind up too far away to get to the wolves in time. Trying to think of the best route was a little difficult when Redford was hanging over the backseat. Closing his eyes, he pictured the maps in his head, seeing his finger slide along the trails, zooming through both of them in his mind’s eye. “The river.”
He didn’t need to explain his reasoning, and Jed immediately turned in that direction. Low-hanging tree branches were starting to smack against the roof of the van, and Victor was clinging to his seat for dear life, paler than usual. Remarkably, perhaps in respect to the situation, he didn’t bitch at Jed’s driving.
Every so often, Redford thought he could see flashes of wolves through the dark tangle of tree branches. Edwin’s blond fur stood out against the shadows, Anthony little more than a dark silhouette, the chase of fur and paws darting through the underbrush like it was a dance. Then the trail curved away, no longer making a straight line toward their destination, and the wolves were gone.
“Shift?” Jed asked. When Redford looked up, Jed’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror.
Redford glanced at the clock. They had a few minutes before they arrived. Time enough.
Damn it. He didn’t want to shift, but it was the better option. He’d be faster, he’d have better senses, and no matter how much time Jed had spent with him at the gun range, he still didn’t shoot with the same natural effectiveness. As little as he wanted to admit it, Redford’s best weapons were his teeth and the brutal instincts of his wolf form.
“Yes,” he confirmed, hurriedly tugging off his necklace and dropping it in the cup holder. His bracelet went the same way, and Redford didn’t have time to worry about Victor’s sensibilities as he stripped. Jed, however, seemed to have that covered.
“Look away, princess,” he growled, threatening.
If Victor had a response, Redford didn’t hear it. The rush of blood was too loud in his ears as he closed his eyes to try to focus, to shove aside all the external stimulation and concentrate on the change.
It hurt. It always did.
But Redford didn’t have time for recuperating in the aftermath. He got himself into the passenger seat and shoved a paw against the window button to get the air rushing in. The eight wolves—the Lewises plus the five from the pack—were making better time than the van, which had to stay out of the thickest parts of the forest, and it looked like they’d arrive a few minutes earlier.
He thumped his tail against Jed’s leg twice, for two minutes, and pointed his nose in the direction of the wolves. They’d worked out a whole silent communication system. It had had some failures, like the time Jed had misunderstood unknown criminal coming from behind as you should come in my behind. That hadn’t been a good conversation to have in the middle of a job. By and large, though, it was an incredibly useful tool for when Redford didn’t have proper vocal cords.
Jed’s fingers pushed lightly through the fur at the back of Redford’s neck, gently hanging on as he pushed the van even faster. The whole vehicle rattled and shook, the three of them bouncing around painfully inside. All of a sudden Jed swore loudly, jerking both hands back to the wheel and slamming so hard on the brakes that the van fishtailed, skidding on the dirt path and spinning nearly completely around. Redford only narrowly dodged as Big Bertha made an appearance between the front seats.
A large tree blocked the road. The van was stopped, facing back the way they’d come, inches from the trunk. Jed didn’t waste time, though. One quick glance to make sure everyone was still in one piece and he floored it, driving a ways down the road before stopping again.
“Bertha,” he snapped at Victor. Victor handed over the grenade launcher. Jed dove out of the car and took off at a run, shouting back, “Cover your ears!”
There was several beats of silence, Victor’s eyes going wide. “Tell me he’s not.”
Redford just whined softly and ducked his head, paws over his ears as instructed. A count of ten later and there was a fizzing sound, a whiz through the air, a bright burst of light, and a very loud explosion. Scraps of wood rained down on the van, but nothing threatening, and Jed climbed back in. Despite the hurry, he still somehow managed to look extraordinarily pleased with himself.
The van ricocheted forward down the newly cleared path. Jed seemed to be pushing it twice as hard, the engine grinding in protest at the speed. If the engine gave up completely, Redford wouldn’t care, as long as it did it after they got to the pack.
All at once, Redford could smell it, the concentration of wolves, the peppery tang of gunpowder. He nudged his nose against Jed’s arm, and Jed stopped immediately, skidding to a halt and throwing on the parking brake. He left the engine running as he grabbed his bag. “Lead the way, Red,” Jed muttered, quickly climbing out of the car, barely managing to fit Bertha in his duffel bag, gun already out. “Get to the wolves and tell them to stay back. You guys are going to get the pack to the van, got it? Victor, you’re in charge of survivors.”
Since the door wasn’t easily opened with paws, Redford had to leap across to the driver’s seat and out the door that Jed had opened. He lifted his nose to the wind to figure out where the other wolves were—a brief bump against Jed’s legs and they were off. The acrid stink of the explosion was still lingering in the air, the stench of burnt wood and the sweeter smell of gunpowder overlaying the whiff of gunmetal and other wolves. They were close. There was no way the noise of Jed’s blast wouldn’t have alerted everyone to their arrival. Jed was running flat out, jumping over downed branches and underbrush, gun at the ready. His urgency spurred Redford faster, his ears flat against his head, the ground blurring underneath his pounding paws.
Everything in him wanted to stretch his muscles and run, to soar across the ground like he knew he could, but he couldn’t leave Jed and Victor in his dust, even if part of him wanted to leave Victor. Either that or nip him on the heel for being so noisy, crashing through the forest like an asthmatic elephant.
A sharp yip of pain rose in the air, an angry howl following behind. At the bark of gunfire, Jed cursed, digging somehow deeper and increasing his speed. Redford could smell his sweat, could hear the deep gasps for air, but Jed didn’t let himself rest. As they rounded the bend and came upon the cave, wolves racing through trees, the flash of guns after them, Jed didn’t hesitate even a moment.
He climbed up onto the top of the rocky crevice, the cave under him, and he started firing. “Red,” he bellowed, aiming for where the hunters seemed to be, laying down cover fire. “Get them out of here!”
If Redford ever wondered how Jed had been before, how the man who kissed him so gently, who smiled with genuine joy at silly things like a home-cooked meal could have done the things he casually referred to, he got his answer then. Jed was hard, unflinching. When the hunters began firing back, he coolly ducked behind a rock, reloading and continuing on as if this was just another day at the office. He trusted Redford to find the wolves, to start directing them back toward Victor, and he never once lost focus from what he was doing. Redford had only seen a glimpse of Jed like this back when they’d first met. This was truly Jed in his element.
When one of the hunters broke free of the rest and went after the wolves who were forming the front line, Jed left his birds-eye perch and went running, sniper rifle left behind in favor of his beloved pistols. “Get back,” he barked at Anthony. “Victor’s got the van. Now move.”
One of the hunters was down, several of the wolves were bleeding, there were howls and shouts and the constant bray of guns. How Jed was keeping track of everything in the semidark, in the thick of the trees, Redford didn’t know. Jed was constantly moving forward while trying to give everyone else room to fall back, like he really did think he was bulletproof.
There were a few steps in the undergrowth to Redford’s left, the noise barely loud enough to be noticed above the gunfire. Someone was approaching Jed’s left flank.
Jed was in danger.
Redford kept low to the ground, running behind Jed so he wouldn’t distract him. Grass tickled against his belly, his paws barely making a sound against the dirt. The hunter was coming closer, shotgun raised, aiming straight for Jed’s head. Redford could see the man’s finger tightening on the trigger, the muscles in his arm tensing as he prepared to fire.
Jed could die.
Redford didn’t think. He didn’t stop to debate the morals, because right and wrong had been washed away in the howl of fury that rose from his instincts.
With a guttural growl, Redford leapt. He landed heavily on the man, knocking him back, the shot firing off into the woods. Under him, the hunter twisted and turned, hands closing around Redford’s muzzle, fingers caught between his teeth. With a snap, Redford ripped his hand open, and when the hunter brayed in pain, Redford took the opening and tore out the man’s throat. Blood gushed over his tongue and soft skin parted easily underneath his fangs, and for a few moments, Redford was lost.
Kill, his wolf chanted, the throb of his heart beating to a primal frenzy. Kill hunter, protect pack.
The roar of a semiautomatic caught his attention. Anthony growled. Redford didn’t look at Jed. He didn’t think about all the times they had trained for this kind of scenario, all the times they had gone over the fact that if Jed had a clean shot, Redford should stay out of the way.
But Redford could smell the blood in the hunter’s veins just waiting to be spilled, and all the danger of potentially getting hit with a stray bullet didn’t matter. He ducked past Anthony, coming up on the back of the hunter, and closed his jaws around the man’s knee. The bone shattered easily under his bite. Redford used the grip to drag the man down onto the dirt, his snarl an undercurrent to the hunter’s scream.
Pain blossomed in his temple. He turned on the attacker, jaws wide, teeth flashing. A forearm was thrown up, and Redford latched on to that instead of the throat he’d been aiming for.
He bit down, going to crack the bone, but he stopped on his next inhale. Gunpowder. Pine.
Jed.
A strong hand on the scruff of his neck dragged him back, away from Jed. Anthony, human now, was growling at him, threatening and deep. That growl said, get down and stay down.
Jed’s arm was painted in red. The one remaining hunter lay still on the ground, Jed’s gun aimed at him, never wavering. Some of the other wolves gathered in a loose circle. Jed was talking, voice like steel. Bodies were lying around, strewn carelessly like fallen autumn leaves. The hunters. Redford could count four, including one whose throat was a bloody, gaping wound, eyes glazed and staring sightlessly up at the leaves above.
Jed knocked the last hunter out with the butt of his rifle, one sharp movement across his temple. He stood with his left arm hanging uselessly by his side, dripping blood down the tips of his fingers to leave a trail. “Everyone accounted for?” he asked Anthony lowly.
“Everyone’s fine,” Anthony replied. Redford could smell injury on him, but not much. Slowly, the wolves filtered back in, most still shifted. Edwin’s muzzle was bleeding. Randall was limping, blood winding its way down the fur of his back leg. Victor, pale and shaken and reeking of fear, was crouching near Randall, his quiet words a meaningless buzz to Redford’s mind.
“Okay, princess, start loading up the van. Anyone who shouldn’t be running goes there. We can probably fit everyone, if they don’t mind sitting close.” Jed’s voice.
Victor smelled confused at first, then resolved. “You heard him. I don’t want anybody playing macho and trying to run back if they shouldn’t.” The wolves started making their way to the van, and Redford growled under his breath, staying close to Jed to make sure none of them attacked.
Would they attack? Redford didn’t know. All he could smell was blood and death. The lack of immediate danger calmed his racing heart some, but every movement was still suspicious.
Randall, dragging his injured leg, stayed behind with Anthony. Edwin was sitting close to Redford. Victor glared at them. “You three, in the van. I won’t tolerate people not being sensible here.”
Anthony gave a sigh but followed the order. He trudged toward the van, Edwin trailing behind him. Randall gave Victor a perfectly calm stare and sat at his feet, at which Victor threw up his hands in exasperation and moved toward the van himself. Randall limped after him, looking just a bit like a sheepdog herding a wayward lamb back toward the pen.
Redford blinked slowly, wondering if he should follow suit. He didn’t feel injured, but a strange numbness was creeping into every muscle, every breath of air that carried the scent of blood making him feel dizzier.
Some of that blood was Jed’s.
He’d bitten Jed, he started to realize. He’d hurt Jed.
He’d done it once before, when they’d been playing harmlessly and Redford had lost the battle against his instincts. It had been a human bite then, blunt and only deep enough to warrant a few stitches.
This was infinitely worse. If he’d bitten any harder he would have ripped Jed’s arm off.
It looked like Jed was wearing a red glove, his entire arm bathed in it, the wound a gaping bite on his forearm. Jed was moving like he didn’t feel it, grabbing his weapons, shell casings, cleaning up the scene. “Get in the van, Red,” Jed said quietly. He was checking the bodies for ID. “I’ll be right there.”
Redford didn’t know what to do. He wanted to prowl the woods and hope to find something else to attack. He wanted to lie on Jed’s feet and beg him for forgiveness. He wanted to guiltily slink off and hope they wouldn’t talk about it. None of those options was going to help, so he wound up going for the practical choice. He shifted, the change feeling easier when the wolf instincts were so close at hand, and retrieved Jed’s bag.
Jed’s good hand was immediately cupping his jaw, the worry that pinched at Jed’s face almost unbearable. “Jesus, babe. You didn’t have to turn back here. Are you okay? You—”
“Don’t.” The snarl was ripped from Redford’s throat, so harsh it was painful. Jed immediately stumbled back, eyes widening. With angry movements, Redford dug through the bag, going for the medical kit. His heart pounded again with that frenzy, but now it was directed inward too. “Don’t ask if I’m okay, Jed. Don’t you dare do that now, when I nearly ripped your fucking arm off!”
Jed looked stunned as he stood, bathed in the barest light of dawn, bleeding and dirty. He was cradling his arm to his stomach, absently holding it close, staring at Redford like he didn’t know what to say. “It doesn’t matter,” he started, shaking his head, concern curving his lips downward. There were bodies strewn around them, one of them that Redford had put there, Jed’s arm bearing Redford’s teeth marks, and Jed didn’t appear angry. He just looked so lost. “I’m okay. Just… are you…. Shit, I mean, I should get you back, right? You need….”
Redford had never heard Jed so hesitant.
He didn’t reply. It would be more accurate to say that he couldn’t reply. He felt some of his conscious mind start to return to him, but it was weak, only what he needed to be aware enough to help Jed. Nothing else was important.
In a daze, Redford got what he needed out of the first aid kit and walked the short distance to the van to give the rest to the wolves inside so they could start patching themselves up. When he returned to Jed, he still couldn’t speak. He just gently took him by his uninjured arm and led him to the nearby river.
Blood was still flowing freely enough, but Redford could smell the high copper tang of it start to muddle into old as it clotted. Jed’s skin was pale, dark circles under his eyes. Not dangerous levels of blood loss, not yet, but he was clearly beginning to feel the pain.
Redford wrapped a towel around Jed’s arm, attempting to stop the bleeding for the moment. Tending to this couldn’t wait, not even the half hour it would take to get back.
He’d done this. He’d given Jed an injury so severe it needed immediate treatment.
“We can’t do this now,” Jed was telling him, voice soft but remote, that clinical tone he got when he was on a job. But Redford wasn’t listening. There was a hunter not far from them who was still alive but unconscious. His breath was rattling wetly in his lungs, every gasp of air a tortured struggle, and every exhale carried with it a short groan of pain.
Redford couldn’t find it within himself to care. Got what he deserved, his wolf snarled in triumph.
Jed’s voice filtered back into his hearing. “Flannel shirt número cinco over there is going to wake up soon, and we need to be long gone. There’ll be a cleaning crew that comes out here. I got enough information to start tracking down these sons of bitches, but we have to go.”
Redford just kept holding the towel around his arm. “Do we need that hunter alive?”
“I already got what he knows.” Jed shrugged, wincing slightly as he moved his arm. “It wasn’t much.”
“Okay.” Redford nodded. He looked away from Jed’s arm to the hunter, the sound of his pained breathing seeming to grow louder. The hunter was useless now, nothing but dead meat.
But he was the reason Jed was insisting they leave before treating his wound. If he lived, he would continue to be a threat to Jed. Redford couldn’t let that happen. He could not just sit by and let someone live when they endangered his pack.
Redford reached into Jed’s shoulder holster, withdrew his gun, aimed carefully, and shot the hunter in the head.
The part of him that was still human started weeping, but Redford didn’t have time to listen to it.
“What the fuck!” Jed’s reaction had been too slow to stop him. He grabbed the gun out of Redford’s hand. A thousand emotions seemed to flicker across Jed’s face. Strangely, the one he settled on was guilt. Randall was running toward the hunter, shifting in midstride, skidding down to his knees before Jed could pull away. After a moment, he stood, looking over at Anthony and shaking his head grimly.
If Jed wanted to go to the hunter, Redford didn’t let him. Flushed with satisfaction and the knowledge he was keeping Jed safe, he just dipped another towel in the river, making sure he kept it clean of the silt at the bottom. He removed the now-bloody towel from Jed’s arm and started cleaning the drying blood off as best he could.
It was curiously hard work. His vision was blurry, and he was starting to feel a little short of breath. There was an odd warmth on his cheeks, but Redford didn’t have the time to worry about that. Someone was making a strange, hitched sobbing noise. Was that Jed? It didn’t sound like Jed.
“Redford,” Jed barked urgently, grabbing Redford by the shoulder and shaking him. “Stop, babe, please. Please. Look at me. Baby, please, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”
Redford just shook his head. He had no clue what Jed was apologizing for. Redford had killed the hunter and eliminated the threat. There was nothing left to worry about right now. “Hold still. I need to stitch you up.”
“Stop fucking taking care of me.” Jed’s voice was like a whip. “Jesus….” Jed’s good arm folded around Redford, Jed seemingly not caring at all about his injuries. He just grabbed hold of Redford, hauling him in tight, whispering again and again, “I’m so sorry.”
It didn’t make sense. Jed had nothing to say sorry for, and Redford should tell him that. But all he could do was go limp in the circle of Jed’s embrace, his cheek pushed hard against Jed’s chest. The instincts retreated a little, content and reassured of Jed’s safety, and that minor retreat was just enough of a crack in the wall for Redford’s humanity to break through.
That horrible sobbing noise was him.
He’d hurt Jed. He’d killed two humans.
He was lifted into Jed’s arms, despite the pain Jed must have been feeling. Redford was only vaguely aware of being carried to the van, of Jed carefully climbing inside, Victor driving them out of the forest.
Jed didn’t stop talking. His voice was so quiet it was barely more than a whisper murmured into Redford’s ear. He apologized so many times, his voice breaking with every one. He told Redford he loved him until the words slurred together into a never-ending stream. Jed’s injured arm was taken by Anthony so he could work to bind up the wound as best he could in the moving van with wolves pressed in so tight there was barely room to breathe. Jed never let go of Redford, though, not once during the whole trip.
The drive back was a lot more gentle than the way there. Victor, as opposed to Jed’s more combative methods, seemed to prefer driving around the trees instead of blasting through them. Redford vaguely noticed Anthony tending to Randall. Redford was on Jed’s lap, and he wondered if he should be embarrassed about the fact that he was naked.
Someone opened a window. The fresh air did a little to boot Redford’s brain into working properly, and by the time the van was trundling through the main gates of the pack compound, his thoughts were starting to get back in order.
When they stopped, Jed jerked open his door and climbed out, Redford still held tightly. When their feet hit the ground, Redford was already in the middle of changing back to wolf, noting all of the people gathered around. Furry was a lot better than naked right then, and he barely even noticed the usual pain of the shift. Jed let him gently down, though he kept one hand in Redford’s fur, which Redford was glad for. Neither of them wanted to break the connection.
“Everyone with me. Now.” Jed strode across the camp, wolves trailing behind him like an army, Victor bringing up the rear. The door to the Gray Lady’s cabin was unceremoniously kicked in. Her guardian wolves growled, but Jed bared his teeth and growled right back.
“Do you mind?” The Gray Lady was at her long table, several wolves with her. “We’re in the middle—”
“Shut the fuck up.” Jed was bloodstained and fierce-looking, anger radiating from every word, seemingly more wolflike than any of the actual wolves standing close. “You’re in the middle of a war is what this is. And you don’t get to press a dainty hand to your nose and ignore the goddamn stink. So this is how this is going to go. I am going to find the sons of bitches who are hunting you, and then you and I are going to find a way for your pack to stay alive.”
The Gray Lady blinked at him, obviously torn between showing her own teeth and agreeing. In the end, her eyes went to the cluster of new wolves from the smaller pack, the injured and the young, and she nodded. “Very well,” she said, raising her chin. “We will talk. Later.”
“And I’m staying in a goddamn cabin,” Jed rumbled as he turned, stalking back out of the building. “I’ll stay in every damn cabin you’ve got. If you don’t like it you can kiss my human ass.”
At the doorway, the group dispersed. The wolves from the smaller pack were taken by members of the Gray Lady’s in the direction of the medical house. Anthony cast a look at Jed and Redford, concerned. “I’m going to take Randall and Ed to get some proper treatment. You should come with us. I’m not the best at stitching, especially not in a moving vehicle, so all you’ve got is a bandage. You need more care than that.”
“I don’t want any voodoo herb smusher to touch my goddamn arm,” Jed bit out. “I’m fine. We’re fucking fine.”
“Yes, we can see that.” Randall was still heavily favoring one leg, the gash more visible now that there wasn’t fur covering his upper leg. Victor was at his side, giving Randall an arm to lean on. “Anthony, you need to get looked at as well.”
“Yeah, we’re going.” Anthony looked back at Jed again, like he wanted to insist Jed get properly treated, but he shook his head. Redford almost smiled to himself. Even Anthony had realized it was difficult to out-stubborn Jed. “Jed, just please get some attention if you feel like you need it. Victor’s right, this isn’t the time to be macho.”
“This ain’t my first rodeo, sunshine.” Jed’s hand had fallen again to rest on the nape of Redford’s neck, fingers buried in his fur. “I’ve had scratches worse than this shaving.”
“You think anybody’s buying that tough talk?” Anthony huffed a near-silent laugh. But he was watching Jed with admiration starting to dawn in his eyes now that the adrenaline was dying down. “Thank you, Jed. For what you did. That pack wouldn’t be alive without you.”
Visibly uncomfortable with the gratitude, Jed cleared his throat. “Yeah, well. Good talk. And, uh, nice job out there. You aren’t half bad to have around, even if I do probably have fleas now.”
Edwin nudged his head against Redford before he started pushing at Victor’s legs, encouraging him to start walking with Randall. The slash across the bottom of his muzzle gave Edwin a vaguely rakish air. He didn’t appear all that traumatized by his first encounter with violence.
Redford envied him. So much was going on around him, there was so much to talk about, and he could scarcely think about any of it.
If Jed wasn’t going to see the proper healers, then Redford would have to take care of him himself. He started to go for his usual tactic—gripping the bottom hem of Jed’s jeans in his teeth to drag him in the right direction—but the second his teeth got shown, Jed flinched, and Redford drew back, ears down and tail between his legs.
He’d have to settle for just walking next to Jed, then. It was only right, Redford figured. Of course Jed didn’t want Redford’s teeth anywhere near him. Redford didn’t want to make Jed react like that ever again. Still, he had to get Jed back to the cabin, so he went for a small nudge of his nose against Jed’s ankle.
Knievel was waiting for them, curled up in the middle of the bed. She cracked an eye open when they walked in, deciding that it was worth leaving her cozy blankets to come and curl herself around Redford’s legs. Redford, having expected Knievel to claw at his nose in revenge for what he’d done to Jed, relaxed slightly, and was faced with the odd situation of trying to pat their cat while he was lacking opposable thumbs.
Jed immediately tugged off his shirt, going into the bathroom to examine Anthony’s handiwork. Apparently he was satisfied, because he just kicked off his shoes and collapsed facedown onto the bed. Knievel immediately abandoned Redford to hop up and requisition Jed’s back as her new bed, kneading against his shoulder before she curled up and yawned her way back to sleep.
“Get up here,” Jed told Redford, voice hoarse and rough.
Guiltily, Redford wondered if he should, if he even had the right anymore. When they’d first started to fall for each other and Redford had told Jed about his grandmother, Jed hadn’t been happy. He’d yelled, called her an evil, abusing bitch, announced that he would very much like to resurrect her just for the pleasure of killing her himself.
But if Redford had hurt Jed twice now, didn’t that make him as bad as his grandmother?
He loved Jed. He loved him more than anybody else Redford had ever had in life, and he’d never imagined feeling that way about somebody. He was fairly sure he’d never feel that way about somebody again. He wanted to leave the cabin out of shame and hope Jed realized how terrible it was that Redford had bitten him, but even as the guilt tried to push him into that action, Redford found he couldn’t leave.
He shifted. It took a little longer this time, it hurt a little more, with the instincts being further toward the back of his mind, but finally Redford was able to cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed, gingerly placing his hand on Jed’s shoulder blade.
“I’m….” Redford couldn’t think of the proper words to say. “I’m so sorry, Jed.” His voice broke on Jed’s name, but Redford drew a deep breath, trying to keep himself composed.
There had been so much tenseness in Jed’s body, like he was waiting for something, preparing for some terrible thing to happen. But the second Redford touched him, all of that melted. He turned, dislodging Knievel, grasping at Redford’s hand. “Why?” he asked softly, eyes searching Redford’s face. “God, babe, I’m the one that’s sorry. I never…. I never meant for it to be like that. Not for you. You shouldn’t….”
Sitting up, Jed had to pause, his voice cracking at the edges. “God, you’re so… you’re this innocent, amazing person, and I broke you.” Jed’s face shattered, a deep, heaving sob working its way through Jed’s body. “Christ, I ruined you. I’m so sorry, Redford. I’m so, so sorry.”
That wasn’t what Redford had been expecting to hear. In fact, it was such a polar opposite of his own thoughts that he was taken aback for a long few moments, staring at Jed in shock.
“Jed,” he protested, alarm flashing sourly in the back of his throat. He’d never seen Jed like this. On pure instinct, he raised his arms to wrap around Jed’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “Jed, please don’t apologize,” he continued, his voice thin. “I hurt you. And that’s not the first time I’ve hurt you.”
“I don’t care” was Jed’s immediate response, forceful and sure even as his eyes were wet, even as he choked back another sob. “Jesus, Red, I don’t fucking care. That wasn’t… you’re not beating me or some shit, okay? You were wolfed out, and I got in the way. I just didn’t want you to…. I didn’t want you to come to and realize you’d killed someone else. That’s what I do, that’s my job, but not you. You’re better than that.”
It still didn’t excuse what Redford had done, but Jed seemed focused on a completely different issue here, one that Redford hadn’t even been thinking about.
“I killed those men for you, Jed. That first one was going to shoot you in the back.”
Even as he said it, Redford felt dawning realization at his own words. He’d spent the whole drive home feeling sick that he’d killed those men—and he still did feel that sour clench of guilt, the terrible churning shame of it—but now he started to realize there had been a point to it. They hadn’t been needless murders. In fact, it was what any of them would have done. It was what Jed had done. Three of those bodies had been brought down by his bullets. Those men were trying to kill them, and Jed’s first rule was that, if someone was coming after you, you had to live. Whatever that entailed, you just had to survive. And they had.
“I killed them for you,” he repeated. “You taught me how to take care of myself and the people I love, and I did.” He pulled back from Jed a little, showing him his arms, his chest, the way he didn’t have so much as a scratch on him. And despite his lingering guilt and misery, Redford found himself smiling. “I don’t even have a mark on me, Jed. Everyone else got hurt in some way. You taught me how to fight and look after myself and be independent.”
Those were good things. Those were things that didn’t involve him hiding in his grandmother’s basement, afraid of the world. But Jed wasn’t smiling. He looked vaguely sick, staring at Redford like he’d seen something horrifying.
Never once had Jed looked at him like that. Not when he changed, not when Redford was so lost in the competing instincts he chased the paper guy or wolfed down an entire plate of meat. Jed had accepted him, every part of him, from the day they’d met. But now he just seemed so sad and so afraid, and Jed’s gaze dropped away, refusing to meet Redford’s.
Redford’s smile died. Every part of him had been accepted, except this part, apparently. The instincts had gone too far, maybe, or perhaps Jed wasn’t being entirely truthful when he said he didn’t care that Redford had nearly ripped his arm off. Either way, Redford wound up leaning back, losing contact with Jed.
“We should get some sleep,” Jed mumbled, getting up, tugging off his jeans, and searching through his bag for pajamas. “You look exhausted.”
Jed was the most stubborn man Redford had ever met, and if he didn’t want to talk any further about this, then all attempts to do so would be absolutely useless. Redford wanted to grab him by the shoulders and make him realize: Redford was strong now, he was independent and useful, he had a purpose. Jed hadn’t ruined him. Jed had made him.
But that lingering guilt over hurting Jed made him hold his tongue. He could see the fear in Jed’s eyes, the sadness, and Redford could only assume both were his fault. There wasn’t exactly anybody else in this room who could be to blame.
So instead of trying to talk more, Redford just got under the blankets. He expected that Jed would go sleep in the other bed, but Redford took his usual position anyway, the side farthest away from the door because, despite Jed’s usual insistence on having a wall at his back whenever possible, he refused to sleep anywhere that wasn’t directly between the outside world and Redford, like he could be a human barricade against any possible threats.
The thought that he might now consider Redford a threat made him feel sick.
But then the mattress dipped as Jed returned, and Jed wrapped his arm tight around Redford, the bandage scratching lightly against Redford’s skin. He felt Jed’s nose nuzzle into the nape of his neck, a soft exhale as Jed let out a breath. It didn’t feel the same. There was a quietness in Jed, a stillness and brooding that seemed so out of place. But Jed wasn’t pulling away. He kissed Redford’s scar just like he did every night, settling back in and holding Redford close.
Right then, it was enough to know that Jed was still willing to be in the same bed as him. Redford took his hand and held on tight.
And he tried not to think whether or not Jed would leave him in the morning.
RESTLESS SLEEP didn’t make anything better.
Jed was still there when he woke up; Redford was at least incredibly grateful for that. But they barely spoke as they got ready except to exchange the acknowledgement that they were going to do more research on the bullets they’d found and the ones Jed had recovered from the woods. Jed seemed certain those were their best lead. Redford considered breakfast, but the anxiety and guilt churning in his gut were enough to make his appetite abandon him completely.
A few times, he found himself reaching out to Jed while Jed was turned away, extending an arm to him with the intent of putting a hand on his shoulder, but he always drew back at the last second, remembering the flinch Jed had given yesterday.
He just had to turn his mind to research, Redford decided. Once he was dressed and washed up, he went over to the table where they had set up all their maps and their findings from the hunter cabin. Jed came to stand on the other side, and they went to work.
Time seemed to stretch on, where the only interruption to the silence was the sound of a map rustling or a notebook page turning.
It was the most awkward Redford had ever felt with Jed, and that included their very first meeting where Redford had thought he was a plumber come to fix his pipes. Every once in a while he went to say something, an apology on the tip of his tongue, a question, but he could never seem to get the words out. He kept worrying that he would say the wrong thing or drive Jed deeper into fear. So Redford said nothing and felt the uncertain hunch of his shoulders grow more pronounced with every minute that passed.
The knock at the door was so loud in their silence that it made him jump. Jed practically turned over his chair, leaping to answer it. He jerked open the door to find Randall and Victor on their porch, arms piled high with books, a laptop, and to-go cups of coffee. “Uh, hi,” Randall said, peering around Jed toward Redford, giving them both a shy smile. “I hope we aren’t interrupting.”
Victor’s eyes were barely visible above the pile of books. “We went to the library to—”
“Holy shit, princess, am I glad to see you.” Jed practically threw his arms around both of them, dragging Randall and Victor inside. “Nerd boy and batgeek, here to save the goddamn day. Look, Redford, we have company.” He was so desperately happy to have anyone else in the room, like he thought Victor and Randall would be able to shatter the silence between them.
Jed’s relief at their company—at the company of anybody that wasn’t Redford—just made Redford want to sink through the floor and vanish, but he managed a polite, if hesitant, greeting wave.
Victor looked more shaken at Jed’s hug than he’d looked at the fight. He put the books down on the table so he could adjust his glasses, peering suspiciously at Jed. “As I was saying. We went to the library to procure books on bullet types, more detailed maps of the area, anything we could think of that might help you in your venture to discover who is behind this.”
“Look, Red, books!” Jed picked one up and handed it to Redford like he’d found a magic talisman. “You love books.”
Redford took it, but his smile felt a bit curdled. Jed’s far too eager grin faded away, the manic enthusiasm crumpling.
Randall gave them both a look, one eyebrow rising, but he didn’t comment. “Right. Anyway, we thought we’d volunteer our services. I am not good at much, but research is right up my alley.”
“We even decided to be magnanimous and provide coffee.” Victor pushed the to-go cups into Jed and Redford’s hands. “There. Now sharpen up, both of you, we have research to do.”
“You sure you’ve been laid before, princess?” Jed muttered, taking the offered coffee and sniffing it suspiciously. “Because you sound way too fucking thrilled at that prospect.”
“What on earth does one’s sexual experience have to do with the level of interest in studying?” Randall asked, obviously put out. “I don’t think that if I had sex, I’d suddenly stop wanting to read or—” His words apparently caught up with him, and Randall stuttered to a halt, plopping down in a chair and noisily flipping through a book. “So, who wants to study bullet types with me?”
Victor eagerly sat down next to Randall with no comment on Randall’s embarrassment. He reached out to get the box of silver bullets that was on top of one of the maps, and together they bent their heads over Randall’s book.
Redford took a surreptitious sniff of the coffee and pretended to sip it. He didn’t want to seem rude by putting it aside, but he’d never liked the taste much. While Victor and Randall read together, a bottle of water was pressed into Redford’s free hand. He looked up to find Jed, wordlessly taking the coffee from him. Redford never really drank anything but water if he could help it, no matter how many times Jed tried to get him to taste different beers.
Hope and relief hit him hard. It was such a little thing, and he should probably be focusing on research, but if Jed was still thinking about him then it meant that Jed probably wasn’t going to leave. Redford’s smile was a lot more genuine then, and he silently mouthed a thank you at Jed.
Redford would swear most of the time that Jed wasn’t nearly as closed off as he pretended. Every emotion he had, everything he kept so close to the chest, Redford could read in his eyes. It wasn’t any different now. He saw love there in Jed’s gaze, but it was underscored with a heavy, indefinable emotion that didn’t seem to allow Jed to stay too close to Redford. Jed closed his fingers lightly around Redford’s, just for a moment, before slipping away again.
That hope and relief dimmed somewhat but didn’t die entirely. The smile didn’t immediately slip off Redford’s face—as upset and as guilty as he was feeling, Jed still loved him. He had to hold on to that.
“Have you looked into the etchings at the bottom of these?” Randall’s voice broke into Redford’s thoughts. “This symbol isn’t one of the major manufacturers.”
“And I don’t think this would be any sort of do-it-yourself type build. They would need to have specialized equipment to make these silver bullets, not to mention the effort needed to produce the quantity you observed,” Victor added. “But I highly doubt that a major manufacturer would do such a small, specific order. Thus, we can infer that—”
“Okay, Professor Hard-on.” Jed cut Victor off, kicking his chair back to wander over to his bag. “Yes, Nancy Drew and her gal Friday have figured out that Sierra isn’t going into the werewolf-hunting line. Good for you.” Jed found a small flask and dumped half of its contents into his coffee. Downing a large gulp, he hissed in appreciation. Redford could smell the whiskey from where he was sitting. “It’s a custom job. Someone—”
Jed stopped, eyes going wide. “Oh,” he said lowly, before, louder, “Son of a bitch.”
“What?” Victor still sounded irritable at being interrupted, but curiosity touched his expression. “Do you know someone that would be capable of custom-made bullets?”
“Sweetheart, half my rolodex would fit that bill.” Jed was digging through his bag one handed, tossing clothes every which way. He unearthed a battered tin box and brought it over to the table. Dumping it out, he sent bullets rolling over the maps, all different shapes and sizes.
“One from each job,” he explained, sorting through them. “Call me sentimental.”
“Or a serial killer,” Randall muttered, picking up one and frowning at it. “What does this very disturbing display of your trophies have to do with this?”
“Everything.” Jed held out one bullet, longer than his finger and twice as thick. On the bottom, [BC] was etched into the brass.
“Holy shit.” The curse seemed strange coming out of Randall’s mouth. He leaned forward, eyes wide. “You know our supplier.”
“More than know,” Jed agreed. “Worked a few jobs for him. He likes custom-made toys, big guns, and blow jobs in the backseat of cars.”
It didn’t take more than that for Redford to understand who Jed meant. There was the etching on the bottom of the bullet, the fact that Jed had met him before. And then the references to big guns and custom made toys—Redford had heard Jed speak about those things to an ex-client before. There was only one person it could be.
Buck Cambridge. Redford had met him not long after Jed and Redford had first met, and Redford recalled distinctly disliking him even then. That’s who the box of silver bullets smelled of.
“Are you going to be helpful and tell us exactly who it is?” Victor said witheringly. “Or shall we stay suspended on the edge of our seats?”
“Better if you don’t know, professor.” Jed was standing, moving around the cabin, grabbing shoes and a shirt and a gun with a kind of nervous energy. “This is not something you can lecture to death. I’ll just go have a nice, friendly conversation, see if I can’t figure out what’s going on.”
“You’ll need to talk to the Gray Lady first.” Victor looked like he wished he didn’t have to say it but felt like he should nonetheless, a frown settling in at the edges of his lips. “She’ll want to know what’s going on.”
“Bitches in hell want ice water,” Jed shot back. “Doesn’t help them either.” He shrugged on a jacket. “Come on, Red, suit up. It’s probably a few hours’ worth of driving, and I want to get back before dark.”
Redford had started getting ready before Jed had even finished speaking. He strapped his shoulder holster on and made sure his gun was properly loaded before he tucked it away, and started putting Jed’s bag back together for transport. It didn’t matter that things were awkward between him and Jed right now. He had Jed’s back during jobs now and always, and neither of them were going to let a fight get in the way of that.
“I’m coming with you.” Randall was standing, favoring his wounded leg, jaw set defiantly.
“That’s a no,” Jed replied, barely even giving him a look. “You’re hurt, and I’ve already got all the backup I need.”
“What you need is someone this person doesn’t know. What do you think you’re going to do, just burst through the front door?”
Jed shrugged. “The thought had occurred to me, yes.”
“That might get you a fist fight for your trouble, but I hardly think it will give us the information we need.” Randall took a step forward. “Put on nicer clothes, present yourself as a potential business client, and you’ll get a lot further.”
Snorting, Jed finally glanced over at Randall. “This guy ain’t interested in my clothes.”
“Yes, but this guy isn’t who you need to get past. Secretaries and assistants run the world. They’re the ones you need to be able to charm your way through.” Randall’s eyes darted between Jed and Redford. “Take me with you. I look harmless, which is to your advantage in any situation, and you know you can rely on me.”
Jed looked like he very much wanted to protest. With a heavy sigh, though, he waved his hand. “Fine, whatever, come along. Keep your mouth shut and do what I say.” Jed seemed to be sizing up Randall’s outfit, the neatly tied tie, the buttoned up cardigan, the pressed slacks. With another irritated exhale, Jed dug through his own clothes, pulling out one of his few dress shirts and a pair of trousers. “Fucking hate dressing up,” he muttered, flinging off his clothes and tugging on the nicer outfit.
Jed, Redford thought, should really dress up nicer more often. They’d done a few cases before where Jed had worn a suit, and while he’d bitched and complained about it the whole time, when they’d gotten home, Redford hadn’t wasted any time in getting that suit off him. Jed definitely hadn’t complained about that.
He supposed he’d need to be in nicer clothes too, so he set about retrieving the appropriate shirt and pants from his bag. Redford didn’t think he cleaned up nearly as nicely as Jed. He figured it had something to do with the scar on his face, or his hair, that he’d never managed to force into a style that wasn’t messy.
“Just be careful,” Victor cautioned them all, but he was looking at Randall in particular. “The last thing any of us need is for you to wind up dead.”
“Well, if I do bite it on this perfectly safe mission where there is a high likelihood that I won’t even draw my gun, you can’t have my stuff.” Jed grabbed his bag and checked it over. No matter how many times Redford had packed for him, no matter even if he’d done his own packing, Jed always double checked. There was some story Jed would tell about Budapest and having to make his own knife out of a soda can, but the point was, Jed was slightly paranoid.
“Pity,” Victor said dryly. “I was so looking forward to inheriting a gun collection of such enormity that no one man could ever hope to use it all.”
“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Randall agreed. He was giving Victor a sideways look, as if unsure if he should pay attention to the concern in Victor’s voice. “And you do know that guns are often used as a compensation for smaller genitalia.”
“Yes, I was aware.” Victor didn’t even need to look at Jed to make his words pointed.
“They’re also often used as payment for smaller jobs,” Redford said, feeling the need to defend Jed. Not that Jed really needed any defending—the last time someone had inferred that he was compensating, Jed had pulled down his pants right then and there.
This time, though, Jed just gave a faint snort, ducking down to tie his shoes. “We ready?”
Redford was still holding his nicer clothes in his hands. “Um. Give me a second.” He closed the bathroom door behind himself as he hid from sight, and got changed quickly. A glance in the mirror revealed that he looked, as usual, completely out of place in more formal clothing. But it would have to do.
When he emerged, he instinctively looked over at Jed for confirmation on his outfit choice. Despite Jed being strangely quiet and despite the strain between them, Redford still caught that familiar flare of heat in Jed’s eyes. The corner of Jed’s lip barely curved upward, but he nodded, hesitantly meeting Redford’s gaze.
It made Redford want to call the whole investigation off so he and Jed could get some alone time together. Surely if they just talked about this, then they could figure it out. Redford could promise he would get some more help for his instincts so Jed didn’t have to be wary of him. He’d go see Dr. Alona every day, if Jed wanted.
But time was of the essence here. There were hunters gathering around the pack, and they needed to find who was giving them orders. If Redford called time-out to sit down and talk to Jed, that was another few hours more that the pack was in danger.
“Ready,” Redford said.
Randall had been fussing with the books, standing closer to Victor and asking his advice on various things that didn’t seem entirely relevant to what they were doing now. Like how he’d categorize some of the research and if he preferred footnotes or references on the back page. “Hm?” He looked over to find both Jed and Redford standing at the door, waiting. Knievel wound her way around their legs, chirping at them before making a beeline toward Victor. “Oh, right. Yes, I, um, I’m ready as well.”
“Let’s head out, then.” Jed led the way to the van, Randall’s limp not preventing him from keeping up. The van looked beaten up, and that was about the kindest thing Redford could say about it. He hadn’t noticed yesterday, but there were still chips of burnt wood stuck in the windshield wipers, heavy dents along the side where branches had hit. As long as it still ran, though, it didn’t matter if it looked pretty. That was what Jed had always told him.
They piled in, and Jed pulled out onto the dirt trail. There were wolves running alongside them for a few moments before they vanished off into the woods. A few turns later, they passed the gate, and then it was like there wasn’t anything out there but trees and silence. It took them a while to even hit the main road, though Redford was grateful when they got back onto pavement. It’d been so long, it felt, since he’d ridden in the car on anything but overly bumpy rough trails that driving down the highway was like being on a cushion of air.
Over the next two hours, Redford contemplated turning the radio on several times, but they were so far out of major civilization that the only two stations available were a talk show and a country music station. Redford quite liked country music, but Jed hated it.
About halfway into the drive, Jed had to stop for gas. He didn’t ask either Redford or Randall if they wanted anything when he got out of the van, but when he came back he had a plastic bag. For Randall he’d purchased a glass bottle of iced tea on the basis that Randall clearly liked British things—Randall had given Jed a look, needless to say. And for Redford he’d bought Pixy Stix.
Even when things were tense between them, Jed still brought him his favorite gas station snack. This time Redford didn’t feel that same relief and hope in him, not after an hour of sitting in tense silence. He was already exhausted from his thoughts running around in circles, desperately trying to figure out the situation and ways to solve it.
After eating one of the Pixy Stix and getting a blue tongue, though, he did lean over and lightly press a kiss to the corner of Jed’s lips. It was a rule in their household, although the rule—and Jed—usually tended to demand much more intense kissing.
This time, however, Jed didn’t immediately haul Redford back for something more. He did, though, gently take Redford’s hand, bringing it up to kiss his palm so lightly it was almost no contact at all.
The next hour of the drive passed with less mental exhaustion for Redford as he tried to get his mind on track. They were going to talk to the man who was manufacturing silver bullets for these hunters. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. And more than anything, he couldn’t afford a repeat of yesterday, so he had to keep his instincts locked up tight.
He wished he’d had time to call Dr. Alona. He wished he’d thought of calling him earlier. Even if the man would just sit and quietly listen, he always seemed so calm. Redford could do with a little bit of calm right then.
When they pulled up in front of a tall, bland office building, Jed didn’t immediately get out of the car. He peered up at it through the windshield, fingers absently drumming against the wheel in a nervous rhythm.
Randall had spent most of the drive with his nose buried in a book. He marked his page and stretched, looking around them curiously. “Are we going to go in?” he asked. “Or just sit out here and think real hard at him.”
“I’m formulating a plan,” Jed growled.
“Nothing like thinking ahead.” Randall sat back in his seat, idly fiddling with his tie. “I don’t suppose you could just call and make an appointment.”
“Doesn’t work like that.” A few more long moments of quiet stretched over them, Jed muttering under his breath, lip caught between his teeth as he thought. Finally, though, he nodded sharply and opened the door. “Okay, kids. Everyone in the pool.”
Jed had taught Redford a few things about body language. He straightened his shoulders, tipped his chin a bit higher, and did his best to look like he truly belonged in the clothes he was wearing. He wished he’d put on a tie; everybody looked respectable in ties.
The interior of the building was just as bland as the exterior. The lobby was decorated in whites and grays, chrome against marble, but it looked cheap, as if whoever decorated it had been trying to make it look like the home of a millionaire with a quarter of the budget. Jed went straight to the receptionist, a woman who looked exactly like the decoration—tastefully made up, but her earrings weren’t real silver, and her scarf was trying to be silk but clearly failing.
Redford took a deep breath. Showtime.
“We’re here to see Buck Cambridge,” he said to her.
Out of the corner of his eye, Redford saw Jed giving him a questioning look, silently asking him how he’d figured it out. Redford waited until the secretary was looking away and tapped his nose. Jed’s lips quirked, and he ducked his head, but Redford didn’t miss the look of pride that had broken through his indifferent work expression.
“Do you have an appointment?” The receptionist’s voice was bored, and she hardly seemed impressed with any of them, her gaze on her computer.
Randall gave the woman a slight, apologetic smile, rolling his eyes as if he was just so very over everything that was going on. “It’s a last minute thing,” he explained, sighing. “I am so sorry. I know he’s probably booked, but is there any way?”
The receptionist softened, just slightly. She clearly didn’t like the look of Jed, and Redford was getting the same suspicious glance, but Randall looked almost boring, completely harmless with his glasses pushed up and his bow tie. “He’s got a small window, but….” She hesitated.
“Could you tell him Jed Walker’s here?” Randall asked with another smile. “I would really appreciate it.”
The name would definitely get Buck’s attention, although Redford hated the very idea of using that ploy. The first time they’d met Buck at a gun show, Buck had pawed at Jed like he’d been contemplating dragging him around the back of the stall for a quickie. And Jed hadn’t entirely been against the idea, either. That had been before Jed and Redford’s relationship had been solid, but Redford still hated the memory.
The woman sighed at them, lips pressed tight together, but apparently Randall had thawed her enough that she turned to the phone and punched in an extension. “Melody? I have a Mr. Jed Walker and company here for him.” A long moment of silence and then the receptionist nodded, eyebrows rising slightly. “Okay. I’ll send them up.” She hung up the receiver and gestured toward the elevators. “Third floor. He’s waiting for you.”
Jed muttered, “I’ll bet he is,” under his breath.
Randall stepped in with a quick smile, nodding and cutting Jed off. “Thank you very much.” Redford was glad for his tact. He wasn’t feeling very gracious himself, not with the thought of seeing Buck and Jed together in the same place again.
The elevator was playing some kind of classical music as they stepped in. Redford wrinkled his nose and traded a glance with Randall. The smell that had been all over the box of bullets was stronger here. It was even worse on the third floor. It wasn’t an offensive smell; it was just odd for a box and now this building to smell like a cow. Randall actually coughed, lightly pressing his sleeve to his nose, like he was offended by the stench but too polite to point it out.
Buck’s office was at the far end of the third floor hallway. They passed a few other closed doors, each with their own nameplates. Redford still hadn’t managed to figure out what this building was even for—he hadn’t seen a company name outside, and there were no immediate clues inside.
“What do you think he does here?” he said lowly to Jed.
“He fixes things,” Jed said quietly. “He makes bad situations go away.”
“By hiring people like you?” Randall asked.
Jed’s jaw tightened, his eyes darting over to Redford. “Yeah,” he sighed. “By hiring people just like me.”
They reached the door. Redford had a brief vision of putting his fist through the glass. It would certainly be satisfying to ruin something of Buck’s. Instead, he knocked as politely as he could. There was no sense starting the meeting off with carnage.
“Come in.” The voice sounded the same as Redford remembered, and when he opened the door, Buck was sitting behind an expansive desk, raising his gaze from his monitors to the three of them. He brightened when he saw Jed, immediately standing up to greet them. His suit was ill-fitting, the jacket straining to fit around the bulk of him. “Jed!”
“Buck.” Jed extended a hand to have it engulfed in both of Buck’s. “Thanks for seeing me. I know it’s sudden.”
“Nonsense.” Redford and Randall might not have even been there for all the attention Buck was paying them. “I always have time for you, Jed, you know that.” Buck still hadn’t let go of Jed’s hand. He was beaming at him as if a particularly fat fly had wandered into his web. “Sit, sit, please. What can I do for you?”
Redford drew in a deep breath, reminding himself that they needed information, not for him to break Buck’s computers. They hadn’t talked about their strategy, but Redford knew what the right play would be here. People like Buck liked to feel in control. They liked to know that people needed them and their help.
So, he’d start with that.
“We need your help, Mr. Cambridge,” Redford said. From the way Buck looked at him, the man clearly didn’t recognize him, which worked for Redford. “We found this bullet. From the etching on the bottom we can tell that it’s yours, but we’re trying to track down the people that are using them.”
He withdrew the silver bullet he’d stashed in his pocket and handed it over the desk to Buck. It looked tiny in Buck’s grip, so he obviously wasn’t crafting them with his own hands. He wouldn’t have the dexterity to do so.
“I know how much you like your custom-made toys.” Jed’s voice was a low rumble, shoulders held in a tense line. Where Randall and Redford had sat in the chairs on the other side of a low table, Jed had been drawn in next to Buck on a couch. Buck’s hand rested on Jed’s leg, squeezing lightly as Buck examined the bullet.
“I bet you do,” Buck hummed, giving Jed a look. “You quite enjoyed my natural accoutrements as well, as I recall.”
Redford struggled not to growl at the man, turning the very start of the sound into a cough. “Sorry,” he mumbled, waving at Buck to continue. Randall took Redford’s hand, holding on to him. Redford wasn’t sure if that was weird or really nice, considering that Randall’s strong grip was a solid reminder to not go wolf and rip Buck’s throat out.
“These yours or not, Buck?” Jed’s voice didn’t hold any of the lasciviousness or fondness he’d had last time they’d encountered Buck. “And don’t bullshit me. If you remember my preferred positions, then you sure as hell remember what I did to Johnny. I’m not a fan of liars.”
The threat was there under Jed’s bland expression, but Buck just laughed. “Hands and knees, with me buried inside of you,” he murmured with a wink. “Oh, yes, I recall all of that very clearly.”
“The bullet, Buck,” Jed prompted.
“You are so much less fun now, Walker,” Buck grumped. “Last time you didn’t mind mixing business with pleasure.”
“Yeah, well, this time I’m not under the impression that getting fucked by you would be pleasurable,” Jed all but growled. “Damn it, Buck, stop jerking me around. You’re not as good at it as you think.”
Redford’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. If he took away their current worries and tension, he would swear by his and Jed’s relationship. They were the most steady, most reliable thing he’d ever had in his life. However, Jed still casually flirted with other men. Redford knew him well enough to know it wasn’t completely serious, but the instinctive reaction was there.
So he would have sworn that Jed would flirt with Buck to ease the flow of information along. Redford hadn’t liked the idea, he would prefer to go with any other way, but he bowed to Jed’s superior experience.
Jed looked absolutely disgusted at Buck’s flirting.
Buck’s hand clenched tighter on Jed’s leg. “You certainly didn’t seem to mind,” he hissed.
Jed’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Yeah, well, I’ve gotten fucked by a proper cock now, so. Call it inexperience.”
Randall slouched in his chair, sighing. “Charm, Jed,” he muttered under his breath. “We were going to go with charm.” Redford couldn’t find it within himself to make the same protest. He just rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide a little smirk.
Buck spluttered ineffectively, standing up and looming over Jed. It occurred to Redford that it was a position Jed must have been in before—sitting there with Buck leaning over him, his mouth at just the right height for Buck to take advantage of it. But instead of leering or making a comment to point out that fact, Jed rose to his feet, jaw jutting out in stubborn anger. “I want to know who ordered those bullets, Bucky,” Jed pressed, voice hard. “Or I’m going to get really irritated. You don’t want me irritated at you, do you? You remember how very, very creative I can get.”
Going faintly pale, Buck tried to glare Jed down. When that didn’t work, he swiveled his scowl onto Randall, who was calmly examining his nails, and then to Redford.
Redford just glared back, lifting his lip in a hint of a snarl. He still wasn’t sure that he made for a very threatening figure, but he did his best.
When Buck turned back to Jed, Jed just gave him a huge grin, the manic edges of it more disturbing than any scowl Jed could work up. “Chop, chop, Bucky.”
“Please don’t make him explode something,” Randall sighed, straightening the front of his sweater. “This is a new cardigan.”
Deflating a bit, Buck seemed to know he’d lost. He could call for security, but Redford had seen Jed in action. It was highly likely there’d be some serious injuries and property damage before it was all said and done, if Jed didn’t just kill Buck where he stood. And apparently Buck had seen Jed work as well, because he silently went to his desk and opened a locked drawer. In it was row after row of neatly organized flash drives. After a moment of searching, Buck pulled out one and held it out to Jed.
“Everything I have. It isn’t much.” Buck smirked faintly, taking pleasure in that fact. “It’s an umbrella holding company. You’ll never get past that.”
Jed examined the flash drive. His expression revealed nothing when he said, “This’ll tell me the how, but not the why. Why are they kidnapping the wolves?”
“You think I give a shit why?” Buck shrugged carelessly. “They could want extras for dance parties for all I know. I just supply, I don’t ask.”
“Yeah, well, fuck you.” Eloquent as always, Jed tucked the flash drive into his pocket for safekeeping. “You must get paid somehow. You got hired somehow. Don’t play the blushing virgin now, Bucky. You’re shit at it, and I know how the business works.”
“As I said.” Buck smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt fastidiously, a scowl creasing his broad face. “It’s all on the drive. But if you must know, I’m paid in cash via courier after every new shipment. I hire the hunters through the usual channels, ads in the right papers or on the type of message boards they prefer. Low-end muscle for hire at best, but they do the job. I pass on instructions that are e-mailed to me and pay the men when the time comes. That’s really it for me, Jed. I’m a middleman, nothing more.”
“You’re a goddamn parasite is what,” Jed growled. For a moment Redford could see the indecision on his face, the tenseness in his arms that usually preceded violence. In the end, though, Jed just clenched his jaw and nodded at Redford and Randall, before turning to go. “Oh, and, Buck? You call your meathead security, try to follow us, so much as sneeze in our direction, I will give you a replay of San Francisco that will make you wish you’d gone into another profession. We clear?”
“Crystal.” Buck spat out the word, sitting back down heavily. “Now get out of my office.”
That was one order from the man that Redford was entirely too happy to follow. He rose from his chair just after Randall did and followed Jed to the door.
“Oh, and, Buck?” Redford turned back to face him. “Jed’s favorite position isn’t hands and knees anymore. He likes to see my eyes.”
With that, he closed the door on Buck.
Jed urged them to walk just a little faster. Clearly he didn’t entirely trust that Buck’s common sense would outlive his ire. They reached the vehicle without incident, Randall immediately climbing inside. But before Redford could open his door, Jed had grabbed his wrist and spun him around. Redford was pressed back against the van, Jed kissing him, hard, both hands cupping Redford’s face. It was one of their hungry, deep kisses, the kind where it felt like Jed was trying to sink into him, their tongues twining together, their breaths lost in an endless moan.
It probably didn’t solve anything. It didn’t wipe out their tension. But it still felt amazing, and when Redford drew back he was smiling.
“You’re incredible,” Jed told him hoarsely, holding his gaze.
And you didn’t flirt with him, Redford wanted to say. He wanted to tell Jed just how thankful he was for that, just how relieved. But he should probably save that for when there wasn’t the distinct possibility that Buck’s security would be coming after them.
Instead, he said, “I love you.” The raw honesty almost hurt a little, but he wanted to say it. He needed to say it.
Jed’s expression was agonized. His eyes searched Redford’s, his thumb tracing an arc against Redford’s cheek. “I love you too. I’ll always love you, Fido.”
They got back into the van, and Redford grasped Jed’s hand tightly for a moment before he released it to let him drive. He felt a little lighter now. Jed still loved him, and they had information from Buck, which would be incredibly useful for the pack. Maybe, just maybe, everything might work out.
“So”—Randall’s voice broke into the moment Redford and Jed were sharing—“did anyone else notice he was a minotaur?”
CROWDING SIX people into Jed and Redford’s cabin was a tight fit, but they managed to make it work. Victor, Randall, and Jed were standing around the table, studying the contents of the flash drive on the laptop Randall had brought. Edwin and Anthony were slouched on the unused bed, a game of cards between them. Every once in a while they’d look up toward the intense research going on and get a look on their faces like they just might die from boredom.
Redford had curled up on his and Jed’s bed, back against the wall. From there he had a decent view of the laptop without taking up important space around the table.
“A minotaur half blood,” Victor mused. “That’s incredibly fascinating. I’ve seen mentions of them in records, but they’re apparently quite rare.”
“Because they’re stupid,” Randall pointed out. He was hunched over the laptop, fingers dancing across the keys. “And slow. And God, they stink.”
“So… he’s got bull balls.” Jed had said that a few times already, but he repeated it again with an amused smirk.
And, like every time since the first, Randall sighed at him. “No. Those are not bull balls. Please stop.”
“Like, he’s a bull. He has balls. They’re bull balls.” For some reason, Jed found that incredibly funny to say. “Buck’s bull balls.”
“He’s not… a minotaur is not literally a bull,” Randall tried, for the twelfth time, to explain the difference.
“I am going to literally die of boredom,” Edwin piped up.
“Figuratively, Edwin.” Randall turned to snap at his brother. “You cannot actually die from not being entertained.”
This was apparently a fight they’d had before, because Anthony immediately rolled his eyes.
“You don’t know that!” Edwin insisted. “What if I’m the first?”
“Then you are a medical miracle. Can you please just hold it together for two more seconds—”
“That’s what you said an hour ago, but Jed keeps making the same bad nonjoke and Victor is giving you googly eyes and it’s boring.”
“Okay, children,” Anthony said loudly, lightly cuffing the back of Edwin’s head. “Sooner or later there’ll be something you can help with, Edwin. Just be patient.” He turned to Randall. “Do we have anything useful Edwin and I can do?”
Despite his admonishment of Edwin, Anthony too looked absolutely desperate for something to do that wasn’t sitting around while other people parsed through information.
Jed took pity on them. “Why don’t you guys go for a run? That clearing, I’m betting someone went to clean up the bodies. Sniff around, see if anything smells interesting?”
“Oh, thank God,” Anthony said in relief. “Great idea, Jed. Come on, Edwin, we’ll go check out that site.”
Edwin was shifting before Anthony’s hand had even hit the door. He stopped to butt his head against Randall’s legs. Randall crouched down, rubbing behind Edwin’s ear, whispering lowly to him and then watching, expression fond, as Edwin charged out the door. Randall’s annoyance seemed to have faded as suddenly as it came.
Redford didn’t know what it was like to have siblings; it looked nice. He found himself almost smiling at the sight of them. Victor had already forgotten about the whole thing and was once more intently studying the laptop.
“So how, exactly, are we going to find who’s giving orders to Mr. Cambridge?” Victor turned to face Jed.
“Follow the money.” Jed stretched, arms to the ceiling, arching so that his back cracked. “It’s all we’ve got. If we can figure out who is bankrolling this little escapade, we can get some traction on this whole thing.”
With a faint sigh, Victor looked at the laptop. “Well, it’s not my area of expertise, but I suppose I can figure it out.” He frowned down at the keys he was tapping, muttering under his breath, “I hate computers.”
“Yes, they can be quite distressing.” Randall leaned over, easily sliding the laptop to himself with a little smile. “I don’t think this is going to be found in the card index. Perhaps I could drive?” His fingers flew expertly over the keys as Randall hunched in over the computer. Victor looked immeasurably relieved.
“Wolves have Wi-Fi?” Jed didn’t look like he quite trusted Randall with technology. “You guys are out in the boonies.”
“We’ve had satellite for a few years. We’re not quite in the dark ages.” Randall flicked his gaze to Jed, amused. “I also used to stay late at school to do research, and we had an extremely small library. I’ve gotten quite good at finding obscure information. Really, the Internet is the best library there is. See, Victor? Here there’s a cataloged index of all the medieval texts written between the ninth and eleventh centuries, concentrating specifically on the medicinal uses of animal parts.”
Victor looked fascinated, despite his wary frown. “And how do you know someone hasn’t just made all that up to trick people? People can just write whatever they like on those sites.”
“Because look, there are references here.” Randall seemed to be enjoying his stint as teacher; he scooted a bit closer to Victor. “You can click these links, and they take you back to the source material.”
“And there are also pictures of cats playing the piano and a whole lotta porn,” Jed interrupted, scowling. “But none of that is helping us. Come on, nerd squad, focus.”
Victor cleared his throat, giving Jed a pointed look. Redford just picked up the maps he’d been studying again, quite happy to leave Victor and Randall to the computer. Since living with Jed he’d figured out his way around technology fairly well, but computers didn’t smell nearly as nice as books did.
“Give me what you have,” Randall sighed, holding out his hand for the information. “I’ll see what I can track down.” Jed passed over the thumb drive, and Randall retreated to the nearby bed, curling up around the laptop and pushing his glasses more firmly up on his nose, getting to work.
With the laptop occupied, Jed, Victor, and Redford took to their own avenues of study. Redford occasionally passed a map with added notations over to Jed and pushed a note in shorthand that needed translating to Victor. There wasn’t much to do with the physical information they had anymore—Randall was doing the most pertinent work—leaving Redford feeling a little antsy, determined to squeeze every last drop of information they could out of what they’d retrieved from the cabin.
The sun had long since set, and Redford found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. Victor had succumbed to sleep some time ago, his head down on the table, glasses pushed hard up against his face. Randall looked like he was going the same way, his head tilted back against the wall he was leaning against. Jed was still awake, but even he was starting to look sluggish as he and Randall passed the laptop back and forth.
Redford had the vague idea that he should probably go over to help. But Randall was better with computers than he was, and Jed was smarter than he was, so his contributions likely wouldn’t be any help at all. Their low talking was unfortunately soothing, making Redford’s eyelids heavier as he struggled to keep the map in focus.
He wound up slumped to one side, still valiantly trying to hold up the map. From over it he could see Jed’s face, not focused on the screen as Redford had thought he would be, but watching him. Redford couldn’t make out his expression, just the deep forest green of his eyes lit to a more pale color in the luminescence of the computer, the light bathing his face like a blue-tinged fire.
Redford wished he could go over there and curl around Jed so he could fall asleep properly. He knew he could, too, but hesitance and near-sleep left him staying right where he was, finally closing his eyes, secure in the knowledge that Jed was at least near him, if not directly next to him. He started to drift, smiling at the sensation of a blanket being tucked around him, a gentle kiss being pressed to his forehead.
“Sleep, Fido. I’m here.”
And so he did.