Page 25 of Brock’s Mate

His wolf growled. He will not take her. I will chew him up and spit him out.

That was a switch. Wolf must really not like this guy.

Well, hell. If Brock didn’t want Desi to be in even more trouble, he was going to have to do the thing he really, really, most definitely did not want to do. “A qualified healer,” he said resignedly. “Well, that would be me.”

Brock shoved his phone back into his pocket and got out his own wallet. He thumbed through it one-handed, still holding DiSantos against the van with the other. Where the fuck was his ID card? He hadn’t seen the thing in over two years, ever since he’d taken his ‘indefinite leave of absence.’

He finally found it and held it up so the guy could see it. “Brock Reilly,” he said, knowing he was going to regret this. “Healer, Shifter Council Special Projects.”

DiSantos relaxed. “Well, why the fuck didn’t you say so in the first place?”

“Because you’re an ass, and it was more fun putting your face up against the vehicle.” Brock let him go and stepped back, still wary.

Good thing. As soon as DiSantos got clear, he Changed to wolf and lunged. Except that instead of shedding his clothes the way a normal wolf would, they melted into his body, turning his fur coal-black. And instead of the normal gold of shifter wolf eyes, his were a burning red.

Brock deflected the attack, using DiSantos’ own momentum to fling him to the ground ten feet away. He barely landed before he was leaping again, but Brock had enough time to pull the gun out of his pocket and get off three rounds.

He hit with all of them, knocking the wolf back on his ass. He scrambled to his feet, and Brock braced himself, but the black wolf turned and ran, disappearing into the shadows.

Well, fuck. This night was just getting weirder and weirder.

After listening for a moment to make sure DiSantos was really gone, Brock stuck the weapon in his pocket once more. After checking Desi’s vitals and making sure she was okay, he searched the van.

It had a rental plate, but there was no paperwork in it at all. Just a rifle and a tranquilizer gun, and a spare clip for the handgun. He took the weapons and scanned the van for trackers.

He didn’t find any—he hadn’t really expected to, but it never hurt to check. Then he retrieved his own tracker from Desi’s car and hid it on the van. He couldn’t take the van and his own car, but if anyone came to get DiSantos’ vehicle, it would be interesting to know where they went.

Then he carried Desi into the house and left her on the couch while he cleared the place, making sure DiSantos didn’t have a partner hiding in there. When he was sure it was safe, he locked up and started his own search.

There was a half-packed suitcase in the bedroom, and a large backpack. Judging by the scattered Japanese ornaments on the floor, she’d been interrupted in the middle of packing.

Brock gathered everything up. A pottery dish had been broken, he noticed. He picked up the pieces and was about to throw them away, but that didn’t seem right.

If all someone’s possessions could fit in two bags, then anything they bothered trying to pack meant something to them. He carefully wrapped the pieces in a scarf and tucked them in the suitcase.

After that he searched for hidden stashes and hidey-holes. He found one behind a heating vent with some cash and a whole slew of fake IDs, all with Desi’s picture on them, but with different hairstyles and hair colors.

Interesting. Judging by when the animal attack reports had started coming in, she’d probably been Turned a couple months ago. Nobody needed this many fake IDs for only two months. She’d clearly been on the run, changing IDs, for way longer than that.

He finished packing everything personal he could find into her bags. It wasn’t much. Once again, he wondered what this woman’s story was.

Finally, he put Desi and her bags into her car and drove them down the driveway to transfer everything to his vehicle, hoping DiSantos wasn’t going to attack them before he got them the hell out of there.

He didn’t. After laying Desi on the back seat of his car, Brock scanned the whole thing for trackers, in case DiSantos was smarter than he’d given him credit for. When he was satisfied it was clean, he drove away.

Chapter 10

Brock took Desi to his own safe house—a remote cabin in the woods a few miles from the Wild Blood territory. A place no one knew about, where he could go to ground whenever his wolf got too crazy to be around people.

It had once been a safe house for Phantom Nick, their ghost crew member—when he was alive. And since Nick had been an undercover operative, infiltrating criminal shifter organizations, it also just happened to have a holding cell in the basement. One strong enough to contain a very angry shifter.

Brock had reason to know.

Leaving her stuff in the car, Brock carried Desi inside and down to the basement. Half the cell was taken up by a mattress on the floor, and he laid her gently down, making sure she was in a comfortable position.

Her face was softer, when she was asleep. But still with that stubborn chin. Never a pushover, this one.

Brock sat down beside her, brushing back a strand of hair that was lying across her face. The gesture stirred something in him—not the wildfire that his wolf had felt, but a deep, longing ache in his heart.