Brotherhood Protectors_Montana Moon Page 10

  “What’s going on, Shooter?” Hank asked.

  “The trouble hunting Lauren caught up to us. The SOBs took her.”

  Hank swore. “Straight from your place?”

  “Yeah.” Tait hung onto his control by his bare teeth. “The blood on the porch belongs to Chewy. He’s gone to ground somewhere to lick his wounds. They were on motorcycles and an ATV. Took Lauren overland. I tracked them to a Forest Service road.” His wolf wanted to rip and tear, wanted their mate back. “The situation I was called out on was a diversion, just like the explosion.”

  Kujo hung his head and dug the toe of his boot into the dirt. “I shouldn’t have left her.” The rotten egg stench of guilt mixed with the wet ashes and dead roses of regret as Kujo’s misery wafted from him in waves.

  “How can we help?” Hank asked. “You’ve got the entire Brotherhood at your disposal.”

  Kujo agreed. “We’ll find them, Shooter.”

  “Yeah, we will. And once we do, you can walk away before I kill them.”

  Hank’s expression was cold, and his eyes glittered like blue ice crystals. “I gotta better idea. We bury them deep. No questions asked.”

  ****

  Tait studied the compound outside of Butte through high-powered binoculars. “Where are they?”

  “Maybe they got lost.” Sean “Boomer” Donaldson hunkered down beside him. “Doesn’t matter. The Nightriders are watching the roads.” He gripped Tait’s shoulder and squeezed. “Relax, Tee. We’ll get her back.”

  No one voiced concern about what shape they’d find her in. Tait wouldn’t consider the possibilities. The Nightriders were outlaws but the Hell Dogs and their unholy alliance with Black Root took criminal to whole new level of hell. He’d overheard Easy, one of the Nightriders, talking about the torture his mate had endured at the Hell Dogs’ hands. Boomer squeezed his shoulder, as if knowing where his thoughts had strayed.

  Michael Lightfoot, a former SpecOps sniper, adjusted the sights on his rifle. “Breathe, man. If you can’t keep it together, you need to sit this one out.” The sniper continued before Tait could complain. “Been there, done that. Black Root took my mate once too. We all have a grudge to settle with them. You aren’t alone, brother.”

  Tait relaxed. “You’re pretty smart for a Cheyenne.”

  “You’re not so dumb for a Crow.” They stared at each either, neither cracking a smile but their eyes were alight with humor, breaking the tension and allowing Tait to regain some modicum of control.

  Lightfoot gathered his gear and exchanged a silent look with Mac McIntire, former command sergeant major now county sheriff and the most powerful alpha Wolf Tait had ever met. Then he faded into the shadows, headed toward the military crest of the next hill to set up his sniper’s nest in a vantage point where he could see everything. The man was deadly accurate. Mac waited, ready to give the signal to attack once everything was in place. Boomer had already booby-trapped the compound’s outer wall. At the moment, he was happily building bombs to be planted once they hit the enemy. Then there was Nate Connor. The subject of horrific experiments performed at the hands of Black Root scientists, the former Marine had more reason than any of them to go after the bastards who’d kidnapped Lauren.

  In addition to the former Army SpecOps members, five out-of-state Nightriders had joined their raiding party. The one called Hardy, short for Hard Ass, had been in the 69th with Mac and his crew, and as Nightrider national vice president, he’d brought members of the motorcycle club as backup. Gravedigger, Easy, and Gunner were enforcers. Death and destruction was second nature to these men. The last man, Smoke, worked with Boomer, having been an EOD specialist with Marine Force Recon. No matter their experience, all would have fit right in with a SpecOps unit. They were scary dudes, and deadly as hell. Every last one of them was a Wolf. Totem and his two lieutenants, Rust and Bingo, rounded out the rescue party. The rest of the Helena Nightriders waited in reserve.

  Hank hunkered down beside him and the man’s quiet voice pulled his attention away from the rest of the team. “Shooter?” Hank’s attention was focused on Mac and the rest of his question went unasked. He wanted to know who was in charge and what was the plan. Testosterone fogged the air. Too many alpha males used to leading rather than following.

  Tait had instincts and special insight Hank didn’t. He also knew what he had to do to protect the only two men who were human, which was why they’d been purposefully left out of the planning session. “I need you to do something for me, Hank. If Lauren’s in there, you and Kujo will take her and get the hell out of here.”

  Hank jerked away and stared at him. Tait had no choice but get them and Lauren as far away as possible. By sunrise, there would be no survivors. He would not pull these two men or any other members of the Brotherhood Protectors into this world. Wolves were still secret. And Wolves were still as much animal as man. When he and the Wolves hit the compound, it would be brutal and final—and not all of them would be in human form. Some would shift to wolf once Hank, Kujo and Six retreated with Lauren. Provided he could get the two humans and the dog to take off.

  “You’re one of mine, Shooter. I’m not leaving you behind.” Hank was a team leader down to his damn toenails and it was obvious he didn’t trust these strangers, no matter their pedigree.

  “You aren’t leaving me behind, Hank. What you are doing is getting the principal—” and the woman Tait loved beyond all else “—to safety. And you are keeping her that way until I can get back to her.” He rubbed his eyes then refocused his gaze on the man who signed his occasional paycheck. “What if it was Sadie?” He watched Hank pale. “You’d want only the best to get her out and keep her safe while you took care of business, right?”

  Hank had no argument for that. He’d been faced with Sadie’s stalker and he’d done what needed to be done to keep the woman he loved safe. He wasn’t happy but as he studied Tait, he realized there was a plan, the other men were a unit, and he and Kujo were the outsiders. It stung a little but operational proficiency was the key to any successful action. For some reason he couldn’t comprehend, the cavalry who’d arrived had developed unit cohesion almost upon first sight. He and Kujo were the reserve team.

  Tait clamped his hand on Hank’s shoulder. “Please, Montana.” He used Hank’s nickname in the teams for emphasis. “That woman is…she’s my world. I have to see this operation to the end, but I want her safe. I’m trusting you to keep her that way. Yeah?”

  Hank stared into his eyes for several long heartbeats. He finally nodded. “Yeah. I get where you’re coming from. You’re right. If it was Sadie in there…” His voice trailed off as Kujo and Six belly-crawled up beside them.

  “The vet says to tell you that Chewy is one tough critter,” Kujo whispered. “He thinks the wolfdog will make a full recovery.”

  Part of the tightness in Tait’s chest eased a bit. He’d trailed Chewy to a rockfall and only then realized that the injured dog had been tracking Lauren and finally collapsed from the blood loss and the severity of his wounds. He’d cradled the injured dog and carried him back to his Jeep before rushing him to the emergency vet, knowing he couldn’t find Lauren without more intel. That intel had come in and now they waited and watched on a hill above the Hell Dog compound.

  Down below, figures moved through shadows, and every man present went on alert.

  Glancing toward Mac, Tait waited until he had the big Wolf’s attention. He nodded, then added, “It’s show time.”

  He was ready to end this. Ready to get Lauren back. Ready to tell her the truth and find out if she loved him enough to stay. But first, he had to find her, rescue her, and kill the bastards who took her.

  A sub-auditory buzz silenced everyone. Totem thumbed his phone. “Yeah?”

  A voice whispered from the speaker. “Target acquired. ETA of ten.”

  Mac’s gaze enveloped the team. “You know what to do.” Then he focused on Tait. “We’ll get her back, safe and sound.”

  Yeah, they
would. And then their enemies would die.

  Chapter 15

  Lauren came to in a room that stank of pot, piss, and puke. Her stomach roiled and she gagged behind the duct tape sealing her lips closed. Her kidnappers had also duct-taped her wrists and ankles, but the idiots had left her hands in front. Her head throbbed and she winced when she raised her hands to touch the massive lump on the side of her head. Her vision was wonky and she likely had a concussion. When a wave of dizziness hit her hard, she closed her eyes, dropped her feet off the bed to touch the floor, and held on, fingers fisted in the grimy blanket covering the sagging mattress to keep her from rolling off.

  As her head cleared, she attempted to think around the pounding in her head. She might not be Wonder Woman, but she was smart. She could pull the tape off her mouth and use her teeth to chew through the tape securing her hands. Then she could free her feet and find a way out of wherever this was. She’d find a phone, call Shooter—no, Tait. His grown-up name was Tait—and escape so he could come get her. She didn’t need him to rescue her, she could rescue herself. So there. Except her stomach lurched with each breath she inhaled, she feared her head would explode from the pain, she had no clue where she was, who had taken her, and… Chewy!

  The sights and sounds of her abduction flooded back. Chewy growling, leaping, yelping. A man taking her down. Pain detonating in her head. And waking up in this sorry room. She closed her eyes against a second wave of dizziness and breathed through it. First thing, get the tape off her mouth so she didn’t have to breathe through her nose any longer. She scrabbled at the edge of the tape, thrilled her captors hadn’t seen fit to wrap it all the way around her head. That would totally suck because her hair was loose and getting duct tape out of long hair? Total nightmare.

  After an experimental tug on the tape that hurt like crazy, she braced for the excruciating experience that was sure to follow when she ripped the tape off. She mentally counted to three, then ten, then a hundred, before she found the courage to rip off her gag. Tears dripped from her eyes and her nose burned from the sting. She swore a layer of skin remained on the tape as she breathed through her mouth, then gagged. The air was so foul she could taste it on her tongue.

  Lauren spent a few minutes regrouping her energy. When she recovered, she checked around for anything she might use to saw through the tape on her wrists. When she ran her tongue over her bruised lips, she tasted a hint of the salty iron of blood. The room was bare but for a battered dresser with no drawer pulls and a mattress and box springs on the floor covered with the scratchy blanket. After a resigned sigh, aware that gnawing on the duct tape was seriously going to hurt, which would seriously suck, she brought her hands to her face.

  Then all hell broke loose. The building seemed to shudder as dust filled the air, filtering down from the ceiling. An explosive concussion hit her, leaving her scared, like super-ninja-warrior-dance-party pee-in-her-pants terrified. Rolling off the mattress, she did her best to worm her way to the corner behind the bed, screaming as another explosion rocked the walls.

  The door crashed open and a shadowy figure darted inside, slamming and locking the door while shouting, “Shut up, bitch.”

  ****

  Tait’s wolf hunted with unerring accuracy through the chaos. Though he was in human form, he was far more animal than man at that point. Boomer’s improvised explosives turned the world upside down. Men shouted and cursed. Wolves in human form hunted their prey. Tait had one goal—find Lauren. The wolf had homed in on their mate and the man stalked across the compound, Hank and Kujo on his flanks, Six ranging between them, tightly leashed by Kujo. There would be Wolves running soon and he didn’t want the war dog to become collateral damage.

  He heard a scream and his heart literally stopped beating. Lauren. In front of him, a dark form loomed up out of the smoke. Tait’s nose told him immediately they faced a foe. His pistol chuffed once and the man went down. He stepped over the body without breaking stride. Hold on, Lauren. I’m coming.

  Another figure appeared off their left flank. Hank’s gun hand was up but Tait stayed him with a hand gripping the other man’s wrist. “Friend,” he growled, recognizing the massive bulk of Mac McIntire. “C’mon. They have our six and flanks.”

  Running and dodging, Tait continued to hold point, keeping the two humans and the dog behind him. After breaching the main building, with the help of an explosive charge set by Smoke, he led them through a large room and down a long hallway. He passed a door and his wolf went nuts. Tait slid to a halt, pivoted and returned to the door. His nostrils flared. Too many scents, the stench overpowering. But Lauren had been here, might still be in there. Problem was, he couldn’t take any chances. If Lauren was behind that door, she could have a gun held to her head. His wolf didn’t give a damn. Backing up, he prepared to kick in the door.

  “Wait,” Hank cautioned.

  Tait shook off the other man’s hand. “Don’t have time to wait. I’m going high. Go low. I’ll deal with any guards. You two find Lauren and get her the fuck out. No matter what, Hank. Promise me.”

  “I promise, man. We’ll get her out.”

  Rearing back, Tait lifted his leg and kicked. The door latch splintered, and he was charging into the dark before anyone else could take a breath. His preternatural senses immediately analyzed the scene—the man in black leather pointing a pistol toward Lauren as she huddled at the foot of the bed. His forward momentum didn’t slacken though the scene played like a slow-motion episode of an action movie. Lauren screamed, the sound muted like they were underwater. The Hell Dog’s finger squeezed the trigger. Kujo loosed Six and the dog leaped for the gunman. Had Tait been human, Six would have beat him to the target. But Tait wasn’t human. He was a Wolf whose mate was in danger. He hit the biker, shoulder to the solar plexus like a wrecking ball slamming into a bamboo screen.

  The Hell Dog went down. Six chomped on the arm holding the pistol. Tait, his control slipping by the nanosecond, ripped out the biker’s throat with one swipe of the claws sprouting from his hand. Then he was kneeling over Lauren, slashing at the bonds holding her, running his hands over her looking for injuries. No blood. Or not much. Some clotted at the back of her head, matting her hair. Her mouth, swollen and raw. He gathered her into his arms, rose, and buried his nose against her neck.

  “You came,” she wheezed. “You came. You’re here. Oh, God, Tait. You came.” She was babbling, half hysterical. But he’d come. He was here, holding her, and she relaxed for the first time since regaining consciousness in this forsaken place.

  “Hank!” Tait commanded. The other man stepped up while Kujo recalled Six. “Get her out of here.” Before Tait passed her over, he kissed her temple and murmured, “I love you, darlin’. Hank and Kujo will keep you safe until I’m done.”

  She resisted a moment, until Hank had her securely, one arm under her knees, the other around her shoulders. Tait forced her arms from around his neck. “I have to finish this, Lauren, yeah?”

  Studying his face, recognizing that his determination was set into stone by his expression, Lauren nodded. “If you get hurt or dead, I’ll haunt you into eternity.”

  A slow grin was the physical manifestation of his relief. “That goes both ways, city mouse.” His gaze flicked to Hank. “Get her safe, boss.”

  Chapter 16

  She was alive. Their mate. Lauren. She was alive and relatively safe. But she had been hurt. And these sons of bitches would pay. He knew the moment Hank and Kujo bundled Lauren into the nondescript white delivery van, along with Six because two Wolves surged past him in their animal forms. His wolf wanted blood. Wanted it now. And while the man’s nose was better than any human’s, the wolf would track their prey with a single-minded obsession. The Nightriders could go after the Hell Dogs. Mac’s Wolves could go after the Black Root bastards. Tait wanted the man in charge.

  Stripping off his clothes, he endured the excruciating moments it took him to change from man to wolf. Once the shift was over, he shook his
whole body, settling his fur into place. He raised his muzzle to the dark sky and sang of his hunt. The voices of other Wolves joined him in a chorus promising retribution paid in blood. He tasted the air, winnowed through the myriad scents and found the one. The man called Karl, the man in charge at the roadhouse the night he’d found Lauren. He began to stalk his prey.

  He padded past three wolves fighting, two on one. Rust and Bingo chewing up some hapless Hell Dog. They didn’t need his help. Ten feet further and he casually sprang over the prone and bloody body of a Black Root operative. If he didn’t hurry, he wouldn’t be the one to extract revenge of the human who had hunted their mate, who caused her pain. Air swirled around him, teasing his nose with new scents. Someone had opened a door. Karl. His tongue lolled from the side of his wolfish grin. He had a fix on the prey now. Something coiled in the pool of shadows to his right side. He chuffed, alert, waiting. A man stepped into the intermittent light. Mac. The big man dropped to one knee to meet him eye-to-eye.

  Mac tasted blood on the air, unable to smell it under all the other odors—ammonia, burning tires, scorched hair. Terror, rage, panic. And over it all, a layer of pepper sauce—the determination of the raiding party. This would end here. Tonight. People would die. For a few years now, Mac and his men, their wives and children had lived in relative peace. But Black Root was still out there, still rearing its viper’s head full of poison. He stared into the wild amber eyes of Tait’s wolf, Alpha to alpha. The wolf didn’t flinch. A sardonic smile touched one corner of Mac’s mouth. “Your mate,” he told the wolf. “Your kill. But you won’t do it alone. I had your back before. I’ll cover your six now. Yeah?”

  The wolf chuffed the man’s agreement and with the flick of one ear and a wave of his tail, he returned to the hunt, Mac following, guarding his six as promised.

  ****

  Lauren huddled on the end of a couch in the comfortable living room in the ranch house belonging to Hank Patterson and his wife, Sadie, a former movie star. Kujo and Six patrolled the perimeter. Sadie was making another pot of coffee while Hank was carefully tending to the knot on the back of Lauren’s head. The front door opened and Kujo yelled, “Company incoming.”