Ken nodded and ticked off points on his fingers. “Faegan’s head on a pike first, blow up the lab second, snoopy Segura woman last. Got it.”
Peyton softly chuckled, clapping Ken’s shoulder on his way to the bedroom door. “You are definitely the perfect mate for my little sister.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Hamish
He stared at the phone after hanging up with Badger.
Something was…off. But he had no idea what.
Something more than him being ordered to London on a flight he was already ticketed on that would leave in four hours from St. Louis.
Shit.
His ticket had been purchased by the pack, and Badger gave him a passcode to exchange with the driver who’d collect him from the airport in London.
The last place he wanted to go was the UK, especially with Faegan still on the loose, but the acting Pack Alpha required this of him, and he’d shown his throat to the Targhees.
It was the least he could do considering his tainted family had caused all this mess in the first place.
Resigned but moving quickly, he took care of a few business calls, grabbed his passport from his safe, packed, and then headed out to the airport. After parking in the long-term lot and getting checked in, he discovered the pack had sprung for a first-class ticket, meaning he was able to enjoy the private airside lounge and other amenities.
Well, okay, then.
He still had nearly two hours until his flight and there were only a couple of other travelers in the lounge, so he opted for a stiff drink.
Not that it’d be stiff enough to get him drunk, but it was a start. He had a stopover in New York but wouldn’t change planes, fortunately.
If this is to be my last flight, at least it’s a posh one.
A bunch of alcohol and the better part of half a day later, he made his way out of Customs at Heathrow and into the main terminal close to midnight local time.
At first he didn’t see the driver. Then he spotted a man holding a sign off to the far side, with the adopted name that matched his ticket and passport, and Hamish had to fight the feeling of his hackles going up because, even at that distance, he sensed the man was a wolf.
Hamish walked up to him. “Any tall tales for me?”
He was about Hamish’s height, and his lips curled in a faint smile. “Ready to go hunting?” he asked in an East London accent as he took Hamish’s suitcase from him.
“Not really,” Hamish said, falling into step with him. “But a bloody lot of good it’d do me to complain now, wouldn’t it?”
“Probably not, sir. I’m Lancaster, by the way. I’m one of Trevor Clarke’s Enforcers.”
At least he wasn’t a Prime, as far as Hamish could sense. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Follow me, sir.”
In the car, a burner phone lay waiting for him on the backseat. The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. “Last number dialed, sir. They’re expecting your call. And that phone is yours to use while you’re here. Untraceable.”
Well, they likely weren’t going to kill him if they were setting this up for him.
Right?
“Thanks.” As the driver pulled out of the airport and whisked him through the night to his unknown destination, Hamish called the number. “I’m Hamish Faegan and was told to call,” he said when a man answered.
“Yes. This is Trevor Clarke, Pack Alpha of the Staffordshire Pack. Apologies for the cloak and dagger business, but I’m told you understand why.”
Hamish slumped back in the seat, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I know. What I don’t know is why I’m here. I haven’t set foot in this bloody country since I left. I don’t know what help I can provide here that I can’t from the US.”
