“Are you ready to become the Alpha of the Rolling Hills Pack? The reason I ask is I learned a long time ago never to issue an ultimatum unless I was prepared to accept the outcome.”
“If I have to, I will. Aunt Hope is my family, too, and I’ve had enough of my uncle’s shit.”
“Yeah, I certainly knowthatfeeling,” Jackson said. “Okay, let me know what his response is.”
“I will.” After assuring Jackson that Carson was fine, they exchanged good-byes before hanging up. Setting his phone down on his nightstand, Hunter felt his long-buried rage surface again.Fucking asshole! I should have killed him that night…the night he wanted to sell Quin to a sadistic, fucking monster.
Sitting up, Fionn placed his hand on his mate’s back, rubbing it in soothing circles, attempting to calm Hunter. “If it helps any, I can fry your uncle to death with my dragon fire.”
Picturing that, Hunter turned and smiled at his mate. “I daresay that would definitely be something I’d love to see.”
“Then consider it done. Besides, your uncle deserves it for trying to hurt Quin.”
“He does, indeed,” Hunter said, thoughtfully. “C’mon, let’s go back to bed. We have a busy day ahead of us.” Sliding back under the covers, he pulled Fionn tight to him, inhaling his mate’s scent. “Love you, pet,” Hunter murmured, just before sleep reclaimed him.
Fionn listened to his mate’s steady breathing but was unable to join him; his mind was whirling with the new threat his mate was facing. There was no way he was going to let Hunter fight his uncle because he knew what it felt like to kill a relative, so it only made sense for him to do it instead. And if that meant barbecuing the asshole who wanted to destroy Quin, then so be it. Protecting a mate applied to both of them. This was his chance to step up and show Hunter he could. Once the matter was settled in his mind, sleep came easily.
~/~/~/~/~
After showering and dressing, Glenn entered the cabin, sat down, opened his computer, and clicked on his email program. The sleep he got was not only enough to make up for what he’d missed, it was also enough to help him develop a plan. He began to type out questions to the head agent of his mother’s surveillance team so he could hit the ground running when they landed—without wasting time ferreting out information that should have been included in his briefing from the Hare. After clicking ‘send,’ Glenn glanced up as a shadow fell over him. “Good morning, Paul…maybe I should say good afternoon.”
“Probably,” Paul grinned. “We’ll be landing in an hour…”
“That soon?” asked Glenn, surprised.
“Yes. According to the Captain, he was told to put the pedal to the metal to get you to New York as fast as he could.”
“I owe someone a big thank you.”
“I’ll pass it along,” Paul said, chuckling when he heard Glenn’s stomach growl. “What would you like me to serve you…breakfast, lunch or dinner?”
“You better make it lunch,” Glenn replied, “that way at least one part of me will be in sync with the current time.”
Giving a short nod, Paul said, “Lunch, it is.”
~/~/~/~/~
Zane peered out through the front windshield at the squat, dirty building surrounded by rows of shiny, yellow taxicabs, all parked behind a tall, iron fence. Hopefully, one of them would give him the location of Willow Thatcher. Turning to the guard who was approaching Dylon’s car window, he took a discrete sniff, surprised tofind a shifter, one that smelled like the pigeons he once fed peanuts to in a park.Holy shit! A pigeon shifter!He’s the first one I ever met.
“Hello sir,” the guard said respectfully, his nose twitching as he tried to pick up their scents.
“Hi, Mr. Vaschel is expecting us,” Dylon said, keeping his voice low.
“Names, please.”
“Dylon Royd and Cody and Zane Blackwood.”
Looking down at his clipboard, the guard found the names, crossing them off. Then, he studied Dylon. “You guys aren’t here to cause any problems, are you?”
“No, sir. We just need some information. That’s all,” Dylon replied.
Giving a short nod, the guard walked over to the gate and entered a code into a keypad. Stepping out of the way, he waited until Dylon drew even with him before leaning into his window. “You should know, we are very protective of Mr. Vaschel. Don’t try any shit, and you won’t have any problems with us.” Then straightening up, he added, “Have a good day, gentlemen.”
Inclining his head in acknowledgement, Dylon slowly drove on until he reached an empty spot near a door marked entrance. After parking, he looked at Zane in the rearview mirror and asked, “Did any of your research indicate shifters worked here?”
“No,” Zane replied, “but only because I didn’t have time to research their employees’ files. Was that a pigeon shifter?”
“Yeah,” Dylon smirked, “a pigeon shifter with big balls.” Looking over his shoulder at his mate, he asked, “Ready babe?”
