Rebel's Claw (7 page)

There was nothing left for him in Wyoming but pain, anyway. The Lamar Canyon pack was no more. At least following protocol would get these two off his back.

“You need to do it with the Alpha,” Ryker said. “Come to the meeting hall by dawn tomorrow. Drew will be there.”

“Swell.” Roark took a step forward. “If that’s all, I’m really tired and need to take a piss.”

But the other two stood as still and unmovable as the nearby boulders.

“Not so fast.” A smile curled Gee’s lips. “We still have your punishment to deal with.”

Roark gulped. “Punishment?”

He hoped they meant an easy sentence like volunteering to help out at the Den. The blonde bartender would go easy on him if he laid on the charm again.

“Yes,” Ryker said. “True obedience can only be learned one way.”

And while Gee watched, Ryker shoved Roark backward, over the bank.

***

The next morning, Roark met Drew at the conference hall. The Alpha was alone. Roark’s gaze dropped to the conference table. A glass platter embossed with wolf paws held a knife, white cloth, and disposable bandages. Carvings of wolf fangs decorated the knife’s handle.

A hangover from last night’s drinking hammered into his skull worse than one of Ogden’s hatchets. Although he could’ve shifted to heal it faster, why not feel like shit while he bled away his identity? He still couldn’t believe Ryker had thrown his ass over that embankment. If he hadn’t shifted midway down, he’d probably be floating to Idaho by now with a snapped neck.

If Drew knew about it, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he picked up the knife and held it across the table to him.

“Make sure you’re sure,” he said. “Are you ready to follow me as your Alpha, obey pack laws, and be one with the pack?”

Roark grabbed the knife and clenched the hilt until it was slick with sweat.

The Dominant cleared his throat and drummed his fingers on the table. “Is there a problem?”

Hell, yeah. Giving up on the Lamar pack sucked, but since they were here now, he needed to be close to them, especially Lara.

“No. No problem.” After sucking in a breath and holding it, Roark rolled up his sleeve, laid his forearm on the table, and cut a thin line across his flesh with the tip of the knife.

Drew did the same. For a moment, Roark watched pearls of blood bubble across the Alpha’s cut. Then he laid his arm across Drew’s and pressed. The sting of the injury morphed into something more powerful on contact. As the blood mingled and flowed, he became a Tao.

It felt right.

“There. Done deal.” Roark withdrew his arm and put a bandage over the cut, which should heal up in an hour or two.

Drew clasped his hand after tending to his own wound. “Welcome to the Tao pack, Roark. I think you’ll find once you get to know us, we won’t bite…unless provoked.”

“Thanks,” Roark said after they released each other. “I’m glad to be part of a strong pack.”

His new Alpha stood. “You’ll feel more at home here with time. It beats living like a refugee.”

He ought to know.

Stately evergreens swayed in the breeze outside the window. Not a bad place. He might even like it someday. But how could Hellhole, South Dakota, be home sweet home when his mate was in Wyoming?

***

Carrie sat in her kitchen, updating her records with the latest purchases and other transactions. The task she usually kept up with daily had fallen behind because she’d finally cleaned up the house. Really cleaned it. Shaking the dust out of curtains, throwing away old magazines, and—hardest of all—putting away Daddy’s things.

Roark had blown through her life like a fresh spring wind, changing everything in its path. Nearly a week had passed since he left. Each day was so similar to the ones before she wondered if she’d dreamed his visit. Each time she walked into the barn, though, reminded her he’d been real. And angry.

Would he ever come back?

Part of her wanted him to. His strong arms had made her feel safe in a way nothing else ever had. The pictures of loved ones in his wallet had told her how much he cared about others. She glanced at the stove, remembering the burned flapjacks. Cooking for someone else, conversing, and sharing the events of the day like normal people did…. It felt so good she’d almost trade her ranch for it.

How she wanted to love him!

But if he did return, he’d pursue his friend’s death until he learned the awful truth. How on earth had he suspected? She’d never believed mental telepathy was real. Every day for the past three years had filled her with the anxiety about what in the world she’d buried. But each year had softened it a little. Made it less likely. She’d assumed when enough years passed, she’d barely remember the grim night.

But the dark-eyed stranger had turned her world upside down. It would be best if he stayed away.

The grate of a motorcycle engine sent adrenaline shooting through her body. She wasn’t expecting anyone today for ranch-related business. After grabbing the rifle, she stood to the side of the window and hoped the person was simply lost.

Her heart thudded when she saw the man in a faded leather jacket. His glossy black ponytail reflected the sunlight. When he shut off the engine and walked toward the kitchen door, she shook from head to toe with lust and fear.

She considered not answering the door, but he’d probably persist. Keeping the rifle in one hand, she opened it. “What do you want?”

“You.”

She’d barely laid the gun in the corner when he scooped her into his arms. His mouth devoured hers, and his spicy scent mixed with the leather from his jacket. Heat swirled in her bloodstream, so sharp it almost hurt. How she’d missed him.

Nothing mattered. Not the ranch. Nor the secret. Feeling his arms around her overcame everything else, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. He pressed her lower back, letting her know he was her man. She melted against the planes of his body—hot and hard through his white, ribbed tee shirt—saying yes he was.

At last, he let go of her. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Same here,” she said, her voice hoarse with yearning.

Thank goodness he didn’t seem angry anymore. What did his visit mean? Did he want to have a relationship with her? As long as she got to keep the ranch, she was open to the idea. In fact, her panties sizzled as if she’d been branded between the legs. If he wanted to, he could trot her up to bed again right now.

She wished she’d known he was coming. Her button-down work shirt was dirty from chores, and she surely smelled like a cow. “How about some coffee?”

“I’d love some.”

To her delight, he sat at her kitchen table, looking as if he belonged there. The house needed a man in it again, she thought as she reheated this morning’s brew.

“Did you go to South Dakota?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m transporting more people there tomorrow. I plan to move there myself.”

“Oh.” Disappointment bloomed cold in her chest while she filled two mugs with coffee. “You came to tell me good-bye, then.”

She set the cups on the table and sat across from him, watching the mixed emotions swirl in his black eyes. They had dark circles under them as if he hadn’t slept the whole time he’d been away.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” he said.

“You didn’t have to.” Her spoon clanked against the cup and clattered to the table. “But I’m glad you did. I enjoyed making your acquaintance.”

“You’re always so formal, Carrie.” He sipped the coffee and stared out the window. “Even though my friend died here, and your father probably killed him, I’m letting it go.”

The stiff flexing of his fingers told her how hard his decision must have been.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Relief washed through her as the hot coffee warmed her stomach. She had everything she wanted! He was going to leave her in peace on her ranch. The life she’d worked so hard to maintain could continue as before, unhindered.

But the coffee chilled to a hard ball inside her. He was such a good man. Maybe even more honorable than her Daddy. The shame inside her roared like a beast. She could not sit across from such goodness when so much evil permeated her to the bone.

Even though she’d probably lose the ranch, he deserved to know the truth. And she was so damn tired of hiding it. She couldn’t conceal it anymore. Not from him.

She lurched to her feet, accidentally knocking her coffee cup to the floor. Amusement glittered in his eyes as the brown puddle spread to her boots.

“I must make you nervous.” He stood. “Let me help you clean it up.”

“No,” she said with a force that surprised her. “I need to tell you something first.”

His face paled. As if he knew. “Shoot.”

Her gut contracted at his choice of words. She took a giant breath. Then another. Because what she was about to do would be harder than shoveling all that dirt.

“Daddy didn’t kill your friend.”

The warmth in his gaze cooled. “Then who?”

“I did.”

Roark fell back into his chair. “What?”

“You heard me.”

His heart hammered at double speed until logic kicked in. “There’s no need to cover for your father, Carrie.”

“I’m not. I shot Jared.” She pointed to the corner. “With that rifle.”

He rested his elbows on the table and interlaced his fingers. “Why?”

“I-I thought he was a wolf.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Wolf. Shit
. Lara was right. Nausea flickered through his stomach, turning the coffee sour. The woman behind the innocent green eyes—the one he’d made love to—was a killer.

“Tell me what happened.”

She gripped the back of the chair in front of her, her knuckles even whiter than his.

“I-it was raining, like the night you arrived.” She tugged at her shirt. “I heard a noise, so I walked outside. Th-the wolf was big and brown. It growled at me and lunged low. S-so I shot it before it could jump me.”

“Go on,” he uttered despite the strangled feeling in his throat.

“I killed it.”

“What happened to the body, Carrie?”

“I buried it.

Roark blinked. “All by yourself?”

“Yes.” She winced before continuing. “When the lightning flashed, I saw a hand. The face.”

“The guy in my picture.”

She nodded and covered her mouth. “I don’t know where he came from or where the wolf went. For the past three years, I’ve been telling myself my eyes had played tricks on me during those flashes of light.”

Her tale sounded like something out of a horror movie. Jared must have shifted when rigor mortis began to pass. The timing might be a little off, but adrenaline, the weather—a lot of factors could have contributed. Either way, Roark wasn’t about to explain Wolves to her. Even though each word shredded his guts, he needed to hear every one.

“But I can’t believe that explanation anymore.” Her face flushed and tears spilled over her fingers. “Now I’ve seen his picture and know he’s real.”

Holy buffalo crap. The urge to comfort her rushed through him, as if she were the victim here. He stared at the ceiling instead, struggling to breathe slowly. “Did you call the authorities?”

She shook her head. “I thought about it, but Daddy wouldn’t let me.”

“Your father was still alive at the time?” If so, why had he sent his daughter outside in the rain to investigate a noise?

“No, but he still talked to me sometimes in spirit.” She sniffed. “I wouldn’t have gotten through the night if he hadn’t been with me, telling me what to do.”

He spread his hands on the table to steady his voice. “So, you ignored what you saw and finished burying what you’d assumed was a dead wolf?”

She nodded and hiccupped. “Took me the whole night. I got so soaked from the rain I almost died myself the week after from influenza. I wished I had.”

He crossed his arms, refusing to feel sympathetic. The old man had done the pack a favor. If the police had gotten their hands on a shifter corpse, the secrecy of Wolves would be jeopardized.

“I added the wolf deterrents so it could never happen again.”

“Where is he?” he whispered.

“Out in the field, behind the barn.” She slumped over the back of her chair. “Oh, Roark. I’m so sorry!”

Paralyzed, he watched her narrow shoulders shake and her hair tumble over the table, dragging through the spilled coffee. He bolted out of his seat and grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look up.

Raw energy shot through his limbs at the sight of her red, tear-stained face. His fingers convulsed around the bones of her arms. The primal animal in him howled, needing to destroy her the way she’d destroyed his best friend.

At the same time, arousal bolted through his cock because the mate in him needed to love her….

“Damn you, Carrie. Damn you!”

“I said I was sorry.” Her face crumpled. “I never would have shot a man. If I could bring him back, I would.”

The revenge he’d chased for three years was finally in his grasp. Every muscle in his body coiled with superhuman restraint. A single breath blown the wrong way might send him over the edge. What would he do to her then?

“I ought to snap you in half,” he said in a voice as raw and hoarse as hers.

“Do it!”

He gripped both sides of her face and pulled her quivering lips too close to his mouth. Half of him wanted to bite them. Make them bleed. The other half needed to get lost in her kiss. Instead, they stared into each other’s eyes. Breathed each other’s air with gasping, lung-scraping breaths.

When he released her with a jerk, she darted away, slipping and falling to her knees in the coffee. Her shirt was already stained from when she’d spilled it earlier. He couldn’t believe she’d dug a grave by herself. Did her clothes have brown stains that night, too—not from coffee but mud?

Hairs prickled on the back of his neck when she headed to the phone. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to turn myself in.” She picked up the receiver. “Should’ve done it a long time ago.”

He crossed the kitchen in three strides. “No way.”