She pushed the impulse aside and headed down the hall toward her bedroom. Walking past the place where she and Remy had made love a few nights ago brought tears to her eyes, and she hurried the last few feet to her bedroom.
The hot shower felt good but didn’t do much to make her feel any better. Drying off, she dragged on a long sleep shirt and climbed into bed. She lay there, staring into the dark and listening to the wind and rain batter the window as she replayed everything that had happened that day over and over in her mind. It was difficult to reconcile the Remy she knew—or thought she knew—with the glowing yellow eyes, claws, fangs, growls, and violence she’d seen.
She tried to force herself to go to sleep so she wouldn’t have to think about Remy anymore, but her stomach rolled like the dirty Mississippi, refusing to give her a moment of peace.
* * *
Remy and Max stopped at the NOPD SWAT facility to change into dry uniforms and get something to eat before they headed back out to help the city’s residents recover from the storm. They’d been out since six that morning, helping deliver food and water to evacuation centers, clearing streets and storm drains of debris, and handling traffic control for the crews repairing downed electrical lines. The storm hadn’t been as bad as it could have been, but it was still cloudy with occasional bands of rain moving through, and there were still a lot of people who needed help. It would have been rewarding work if Remy hadn’t felt so crappy. His stomach was tied in a frigging knot and he was exhausted as hell.
He was walking past the main conference room when he caught sight of Lorenzo, Drew, Brooks, Cooper, Alex, and several of the local SWAT officers sitting around the table, shuffling though dozens of thick manila folders. Cooper and Alex had arrived in town around two a.m. and spent the night sleeping on the floor of Gemma’s shop with the rest of them. They’d volunteered to come in this morning and help out the NOPD any way they could.
“I’m going to see if they have an update on Lee and Quinn,” Remy told Max. “Grab me something to eat, will you?”
Max nodded. “Will do. I really doubt those two scumbags are hanging around the city, though. They were probably scurrying across the border into Mexico before the storm even passed.”
While Max was probably right about Lee and Quinn not hanging around, Remy couldn’t imagine Lee scurrying anywhere. Quinn, yes. But Lee? No way. The man would have some kind of well-thought-out and cushy evacuation plan already put into place for a situation like this. Something involving a fancy yacht or a private jet. Remy wasn’t taking any chances. That’s why he had Zane stay at Gemma’s shop. If Lee decided to make one more run at Triana and her mother before leaving town, he was going to get a rude awakening.
“Any sign of Lee or Quinn?” Remy asked as he sat down in the empty chair beside Cooper with an audible squishing sound.
On the other side of the table, Brooks glanced up from whatever he was reading. “You’re going to turn into a fish if you keep getting this wet all the time.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Remy said. “So, any word?”
Drew shook his head. “Nothing yet. But we have alerts at all the travel hubs and border crossings. They’ll pop up on the radar soon, especially if they’re together.”
“On the bright side,” Lorenzo said, “we’ve already started getting results back from the search warrants we served this morning. When we find Aaron Lee and Shelton Quinn, they’ll both be heading to jail for a very long time.”
That was great, but Remy would have preferred if he and his pack mates had gotten Lee yesterday during the shoot-out at the gatehouse. Unfortunately Lee and his muscle-headed bodyguard had jumped in their vehicle and hauled ass the moment they’d seen Remy and Brooks running at them faster than humans were supposed to. Then Brooks did his signature move and slammed his shoulder into one of the SUVs. Seeing a guy tackle a car would take the fight out of anybody.
After filling them in on the early results of the search warrants, Lorenzo told them Roth had come through surgery early that morning and would make a full recovery.
“Okay, I don’t know about anyone else, but I could use something to eat,” the narcotics detective said when he finished. “Let’s pick this back up after lunch.”
Everyone but Drew got up to join him. Remy stayed behind as well. To say he’d been frustrated yesterday when Drew had gone with them to Lee’s house to rescue Triana was an understatement, but when the questions had started coming hard and fast after the fact, he’d been glad the man was there. Drew knew people in the Kenner PD, knew who needed to get involved, and, most important, knew how to push the right buttons to keep the attention focused on Lee and Quinn and the fact that they’d attempted to kill an undercover police officer and had kidnapped Triana.
In the end, Drew had definitely kept Remy and his pack mates out of a lot of hot water—not just by smoothing the feathers that had been ruffled by having out-of-state officers conducting a raid in their city, but also by not saying anything about what he’d seen Remy and the other werewolves doing during the raid.
“I never did get a chance to thank you for everything you did yesterday,” Remy said quietly. “You covered for us when a lot of people might not have.”
Drew met his gaze across the table. “You mean the part where I didn’t mention the fact that you guys are part of a pack of werewolves?”
Remy tried his best not to let his surprise show, but he was pretty sure he failed. He considered denying it, but what would be the point? Drew had obviously seen what they were. Brooks had tackled an SUV ten feet away from him. Still, it was a big leap from seeing something strange to calmly acknowledging they were part of a pack of werewolves.
Wait a minute…part of a pack?
Clearly, Drew knew more than it appeared.
“How long have you known about us?” Remy asked.
Drew leaned back in his chair. “I figured out back while I was still in Dallas on the SWAT team that Gage was different. I’d see him do things a normal person shouldn’t be able to do. At first I thought he was juicing on steroids or something like that, but then I saw a blitzed-out junkie shove a piece of rusty rebar through Gage’s thigh. He pulled it out like it was nothing. When I saw him the next day in shorts and a T-shirt at morning PT, there wasn’t a mark on him. That’s when I figured out it wasn’t simply a case of better living through chemistry.”
The NOPD SWAT commander fell silent as a group of his officers walked past the door with paper plates in their hands, the mouthwatering scent of sausage and crawfish gumbo following them.
“Not long after that, Gage took over the team and I noticed the new people he brought in were as unique as he was,” Drew continued. “Gage was different, and the team he was putting together in Dallas was built with that difference in mind. I’m a good SWAT officer, and working with Gage made me even better, but I saw what he was trying to do. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hang with those guys for long. When the opportunity to apply for this position here in New Orleans opened up, I moved on it, and Gage helped me get it. He did the same for every officer who ultimately transferred. I always appreciated that.”
Remy considered that. “Going from what you’d seen to knowing about werewolves and packs still seems like a big leap.”
Drew laughed. “That part I learned once I got here. You work in New Orleans long enough and you start learning all kinds of new things—if you’re willing to open your eyes and see them. Believe it or not, werewolves aren’t that weird compared to some of the stuff I’ve run into.”
