Alpha (9 page)

But I couldn't shake the unease eating away at my insides. Halfway through their next hand, I got up to pace.

“Faythe…” Jace laid his cards down and joined me at the window, and I could feel Marc's gaze on us. “So what if he charges us? It's not going to make any difference in the end. Come on, you're gonna drive yourself nuts staring out the window.”

“Us, too,” Lucas quipped, already dealing me in. “Come help me teach these two a lesson.” Because I couldn't play spades partners with either Marc or Jace.

“I'm sorry.” I sank onto the couch and picked up my cards, organizing them by suit on autopilot. “I just don't understand why he'd fly Jess and Gary all the way up here just to make formal charges. They don't need witnesses for that.”

“Maybe the council made him do it, after they refused to consider our charges against him without witnesses. I can totally see Blackwell making him prove he's willing to play by his own rules.”

“Yeah, I guess. But this still feels like overkill. Even when I was up for murder and infection, they only sent a letter, and they don't have us on anything near that serious.” Because neither trespassing nor assault were capital crimes.

Lucas shrugged. “Unless he's planning to charge you as accessories to Lance's murder.”

“No way.” But despite my protest, that was a distinct possibility. “First of all, Lance wasn't murdered—he was executed.” And no one but me, Marc, Jace, and Kaci knew that the thunderbirds hadn't been the ones to actually kill him. “Second, neither Jess nor Gary even saw us take Lance, much less saw him die.” We'd left them bound in the woods when we moved on to complete our assignment.

“Well, unless you want to go down there and ask Malone what he's up to, there's nothing we can do but wait.” Marc scowled at the comforting hand Jace put on my shoulder. “And play cards. Your bid.”

I tried to pay attention, and after winning two hands of spades in a row, I finally began to relax—until the first set of footsteps pounded up the front porch steps. Followed quickly by several more.

We'd heard no car engine, which ruled out Vic and Teo, and my father and his allies didn't move so quickly or stomp so hard—unless something was wrong.

We stood in unison. Cards fluttered to the floor. The breakfast table chair behind Marc fell over to clatter on the hardwood. The front door flew open, and I nearly choked on surprise, then raw terror.

Alex Malone stood in the doorway, aiming a gun at my chest. Colin Dean stood at his back, along with several more enforcers I barely recognized. None of them had been on the compound during the vote the night before. Malone had brought in reinforcements.

“Whoa…” Marc started to step in front of me, then froze when Alex clicked off the gun's safety.

“Don't move.” Alex stepped into the living room, and his men fanned out behind him, all holding pistols.

“Since when do we carry guns?” Jace asked, his voice calm and low. Other than the occasional tranquilizer gun for rogues who couldn't be reasoned with, most Shifters eschewed firearms because of a deep-seated fear of being shot by hunters, as well as the generally accepted belief that when gifted with claws, canines, and supernatural senses, guns were an unfair advantage. Thus carrying them was dishonorable.

Clearly Malone and his men were unbothered by that pesky sense of honor.

“Since the council approved them for the use of the new inter-Pride task force ten minutes ago.” Dean pointed his pistol at me when Alex adjusted his aim toward Jace.

“You brought them with you…” I whispered, stunned by their brutal preparedness and our deplorable lack of foresight. A chasm of fear opened deep inside me, big enough to swallow me whole.

Dean shrugged and shot me a cocky grin. “We came prepared.”

I couldn't help wondering what else they'd come prepared for….

“You're being taken into custody on charges of trespassing, kidnapping, murder, and treason. Walk slowly toward the wall and put your hands behind your back,” Dean said to the room in general.

“Or what?” Jace demanded. “You'll shoot us, in front of all these witnesses?”

Dean sneered. “If you put up a fight, we're authorized to shoot to wound. So keep that in mind before you start swinging.”

“This is because of the knife, right?” I stared pointedly at the thick scar bisecting his left cheek. “You can't be trusted to hold on to your own blade, so they gave you a gun. What makes you think you're any better with that?”

“We'll find out if you don't put that tight little ass against the wall.”

Marc growled. “You touch her and I'll—”

“You'll what?” Dean demanded. “Bleed all over the floor? Because that's exactly what's going to happen if you so much as twitch. Now all of you, up against the wall. Three feet apart.”

“What the hell did
I
do?” Lucas crossed thick arms over his broad chest, towering over everyone in the room, including Dean.

“We're not here for you.” Alex prodded Jace with the barrel of his gun until his half brother stepped reluctantly toward the long back wall. “But you're not going to get in the way, either. Up against the paneling, or I'll put a hole in your foot.”

Lucas growled, but complied. None of us could fight with a gunshot wound, and we couldn't afford the time to heal one. Better to escape custody later, than to get shot resisting it.

Marc went next, turning his face toward me as some nameless enforcer shoved him chest-first into the wall. He had to tuck his gun into the back of his pants to cuff Marc, but two of the three spare goons at his back had Marc in their sights, just in case.

“You're next, princess.” Dean stepped close enough to see down my shirt, but I refused to budge. I would not be handcuffed and dragged out of our own cabin
like some kind of criminal. “That's it. Fight. Make me get rough. I'm just looking for an excuse.”

“Faythe, just do it,” Jace warned, and I could hear the pain in his voice, from what it cost him to say that.

“Is that what you said to get in her pants?” Dean asked, but he was watching me, not Jace, and he stepped closer to whisper the next part, his gun bruising my sternum, his breath sour in my face. “Is that all it takes? One good, hard order?”

“Fuck off,” I whispered through clenched teeth. My hands curled into fists so tight my fingernails cut into my palms. I concentrated on that minute pain to keep my focus. To keep from getting so mad my face Shifted. If that happened, I had no doubt Dean would shoot me. He wouldn't even hesitate.

“Up against the wall. Now.”

“Faythe, it'll be okay,” Marc said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, no, it won't. Not for any of you.” Dean laughed, still staring down at me. “But
I
might make out all right. Now move.”

When I didn't, he grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise and physically turned me, but I didn't walk until he shoved the barrel of his gun into my back. I stopped at the wall, and when I glanced at Marc—my teeth clenched in impotent fury—Dean shoved me from behind, smashing the side of my face into the paneling hard enough to stun me.

I blinked, and the room stopped spinning, but not before he'd pulled my arms behind my back. “Shouldn't you Mirandize us or something?”

“You mean tell you your rights?” Dean chuckled again. “You no longer have any rights. And you better
keep that in mind before you go running your mouth.” Cold metal closed around my left wrist, then my right, and he clicked the cuffs too tight on purpose. “Find their phones.”

“On the end table,” Jace said, before Alex could pat him down.

“Front pocket,” Marc said, obviously hoping to avoid that same process. The nameless goon made a face as he reached around Marc to slide the slim phone out with two fingers.

“What about yours, princess?” Dean whispered into my ear. “Where are you hiding the goods?” He slid his free hand slowly down my side, but I could tell from Marc's look of absolute hatred that Dean was watching for his reaction, as well as mine.

“Te voy a madrear!”

“It's in the front bedroom,” I said, trying to pull away from Dean's hand, but his gun poked into my ribs from behind, holding me still.

“How do I know you're telling the truth?” Dean's hand slid over my left hip and around the front of my jeans, barely brushing my empty pocket before dipping way too low for standard searching procedures.

This time, Jace's growl echoed Marc's, and plastic clicked softly as someone turned off his gun's safety.

“It's true, so either shoot me or get the fuck off me!” I shouted, holding back angry tears by sheer will.

“You should calm down,” Dean warned, his breath brushing my ear. “You're getting your lovers all riled up, and that just can't end well.”

“Dean.” Alex Malone stepped into my field of vision. “Does she have the phone or not?”

“Not on her,” Dean snapped.

Hmm… Dissention among the ranks?

“Then keep your hands to yourself.”

Dean took a step back, but didn't dislodge his gun from my spine. “Let's go.”

Alex nodded, and at his signal, the thug behind Marc turned him by one arm and shoved him forward, then marched him toward the front door. Jace was next, and Dean signaled the remaining “task force” members to follow him. The last one released Lucas, then jogged after the others.

On my way out the door, Dean's gun digging into my rib cage, I twisted to see Lucas staring after us in total shock. In spite of his size and considerable enforcer experience, he was just as defenseless as the rest of us. The guns were a game changer. “Get my dad,” I said, as Dean shoved me down the first step.

Lucas nodded.

“Yeah, like that's going to help.” Dean tightened his grip on my arm and leaned to whisper in my ear, as I stared after Marc and Jace in the rapidly fading daylight. “Daddy can't take a shit anymore without asking Cal for permission, and he sure as hell can't get you out of this mess. I'm your personal warden. And if you take one step out of line, you'll never look in another mirror without crying.”

M
y dad stepped into the empty living room of the main lodge from the hall just as Dean shoved me through the front door, and it took my Alpha a couple of seconds to process what he saw. Nothing like this had ever happened before in the American Prides.

“Dad?” I was afraid that if I pulled away from Dean, he'd shoot me, and even a nonlethal gunshot wound would make my father lose his temper. Which might get him shot, too.

My father blinked, and when his focus readjusted, his expression went dark, his green eyes glittering with fury. “Get your hands off my daughter before I break them off.” His voice was as deep as I'd ever heard it, rolling with rage like thunder across the sky. He knew what Dean had done to me, and what I'd done to him in return. And that Dean would be itching for revenge.

“Now, Greg, that would be a pretty stupid move.” Calvin Malone leaned against the kitchen doorway, looking infuriatingly smug. He glanced from me to my dad and back, as if he wasn't sure which sight pleased him more: me handcuffed and held at gunpoint, or my
Alpha's powerless fury. “There's no reason for this to get violent.”

“I see a number of reasons for violence.” My father took several steps toward me, and Dean shoved the pistol harder into my back. “Let her go, or I'll rip your throat out where you stand.”

“Dad, stop! He has a gun.”

My father froze in the middle of the floor, as the other Alphas filed in from the hall. He sniffed the air, and his eyes darkened when he picked up the scents of metal and oil.

“Who has a gun? What the hell is this?” my uncle demanded, automatically taking up a position at his brother-in-law's side.

“Alex Malone and Colin Dean and a bunch of other goons just marched into our cabin with guns and handcuffed us.” I tried to melt Malone alive with the power of my hatred, but he only watched me, apparently content to let me have my say for the moment. “Where the hell are Marc and Jace?”

“Your men are fine. They're being held in cages in the storage shed out back. We only have one extra room inside, and they both agreed that you should have it. I'd think you'd be grateful for their generosity.”

“You can't leave them out there. It's ten degrees! They'll freeze!”

Malone rolled his eyes. “They're sheltered from the wind, and if they get cold, they can always Shift. Our ancestors never had electric heat.”

“No, they had cooking fires,” my father snapped.

“Um, I'm still missing some vital bit of information here,” Uncle Rick said, his anger almost overshadowed
by the confusion written in every line of his brow. “Can someone give us the short version?”

My father crossed thick arms over his suit jacket. “Dean is holding my daughter at gunpoint, evidently handcuffed,” he answered, as Taylor and Di Carlo took up positions between my Alpha and my uncle, drawing a very obvious line in the proverbial sand. “And if he doesn't let her go
right now,
this is going to get very ugly.” His voice deepened into a noticeably feline growl on the end, and I realized that some part of his throat had Shifted. And didn't his pupils look a little…vertical?

“Okay, let's all just calm down,” Blackwell said, and I looked up to find the old man leaning on his cane. And if I wasn't imagining it, the web of wrinkles on his face looked deeper than ever. He looked…exhausted. “Everyone have a seat and I'm sure we can get to the bottom of this.”

“Do I get to sit, or do I have to stand here with this pistol poking a permanent dent in my spine?”

“Of course you may sit.” Blackwell made his way slowly toward one of several armchairs and motioned for me to take the one on his left.

Malone scowled at having his authority subverted and set his mug on the nearest end table, rushing to get back into the game. “Dean, put the gun away. I don't think she's going to try anything in a roomful of toms.”

Dean hesitated, and only removed the pistol from my kidney when Malone gave him a second warning. “Fine. But I hope I'm not the only one who remembers that she once tried to eat my face off in front of a room full of Alphas.”

“Oh, please, that was for show!” I turned on him the
minute I heard the gun safety click into place. “To scare you into telling the truth.” I forced a smug smile, all for him. “And it worked even better than planned….”

Dean wanted to say something. Or hit me. That much was obvious. But he couldn't hit a girl incapacitated by handcuffs. At least, not in a room full of witnesses. Though in that moment, I wished with every fiber of my being that he would, so they could all see what a monster he really was.

Blackwell cleared his throat pointedly. “Ms. Sanders, if you don't mind?” I nodded curtly and made my way—awkwardly, with my hands still bound behind me—to the couch he indicated, while most of the other Alphas found seats. But my father and his three allies remained standing, in obvious and silent protest.

Councilman Blackwell propped his cane on the side of his chair and turned to Malone. “Calvin, what on earth is going on?”

But before Malone could speak, Lucas burst through the front door and jogged several steps into the room. “Uncle Greg, they took Faythe and…” My cousin trailed into silence as he took in the rest of the room, including me, handcuffed on the couch. “Oh. I guess you figured that out already.”

“Welcome to the party, son.” Uncle Rick shot him a wry smile.

“Sorry…” Lucas retreated to one corner of the room to watch with the other enforcers.

Malone retrieved his mug from an end table and took a sip, clearly savoring both the moment and the attention. “Marc Ramos and Faythe are being held on charges of trespassing, assault, kidnapping, and accessory to murder. I'm charging Jace Hammond with all the same
crimes, except for trespassing. Faythe will stay here until the start of her trial, then she'll be swiftly tried and sentenced, if that proves necessary.”

“You have no right to hold her,” my father growled. “There's no precedent for this.”

“Nor is there any policy forbidding it. Not that that matters anymore. You might recall that a vote this morning gave the council the authority to hold dangerous criminals until they can be tried and sentenced. I believe it passed by a six-to-four margin.”

My father and his allies were the dissenting votes, obviously. At lunch, my dad had said they'd objected to the vague language.

“The operative word there is
dangerous,
Calvin. Faythe isn't dangerous.”

Malone nearly spit coffee all over his white button-down shirt. “A show of hands if you believe that!”

No hands were raised, and I wasn't sure whether to be frustrated or extraordinarily pleased.

“Dean…” Malone gestured for his new golden boy to take the floor.

“Councilman Sanders, your daughter threatened to gut me. Without a knife.” Dean's faux look of concern could barely conceal his glee at finally getting to deliver a line he'd obviously been waiting for. “Alex was there—he'll vouch for that.”

I followed Dean's gesture to see that Alex Malone had slipped into the room at some point and was now watching me in obvious anticipation.

And suddenly I felt like the world's biggest idiot. Again.

“They set me up!” I stood from the low couch—not a simple feat without the use of my hands—and my father
gestured subtly for me to sit before someone mistook my sudden motion for another sign of aggression. It took every bit of self-control I had left to make myself drop back onto the couch, but I did it without compromising the indignation I hoped still shone on my face. I glared at Dean, and silently tamped down the urge to let my teeth Shift. “You goaded me on purpose, trying to get me to lose my temper!” Of course, I'd been doing the same thing, so I was really less upset about being set up than about the fact that his ruse had succeeded where mine had failed. “And you've been threatening me ever since I got here!”

Dean met my gaze, completely deadpan. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“Let's get back to the real issue here,” Malone said, wisely drawing attention from Dean before the bastard's bad acting could undo the damage he'd already done to my case. “And that's the fact that Ms. Sanders threatened to use her ability to partially Shift—a skill she was supposed to be teaching the rest of the enforcers, to better equip the entire community—to torture and kill one of my enforcers.”

“That's not how it happened!” I insisted, as sudden heat scalded my cheeks. Most of Malone's allies wouldn't believe me, no matter what I said, and those who did were eager to see me fry, whether I was guilty or not.

“You know she didn't mean that,” my uncle insisted. “She was upset, and it sounds to me like he was goading her.”

“Oh, she meant it.” The authentic ring of certainty in Dean's voice drew my focus just in time to see him lift his shirt, exposing the thick, two-inch scar from when
I'd stabbed him with his own knife. “She's looking to finish what she started.”

A universal gasp echoed across the room, and I ground my teeth together so hard my jaw ached. To my knowledge, other than Malone, my dad was the only other Alpha who'd already known about Dean's mishap with the knife, and he'd never actually seen the scar. I have to admit, it looked pretty bad. At a week old, even with a werecat's accelerated healing—and I shuddered to think how many times he'd had to Shift to get to that point—the scar tissue was still thick and pink and scary.

“That's why you cut her face?” Blackwell asked, apparently as horrified as everyone else.

“No! It was the other way around,” I shouted.
Like Dean could even stand up after taking a knife to the gut!
“He cut up my face and threatened to keep going. I just…” But I let the sentence trail off, for fear of incriminating myself. “He's been out to get me since Councilman Blackwell fired him three months ago.”

“This is not the time to get into the specifics,” Malone insisted, conveniently cutting off my explanation, rather than Dean's exhibition. “She'll have a chance to tell her side during the trial.”

“What? You're afraid that they'll believe the truth if they hear it?” But no one was listening to me. No one who had the power to get me out of my cuffs, anyway. They were all still staring at Dean's scar.

“Calvin, logistically speaking, this makes no sense,” my dad insisted, and I could have rejoiced at the reintroduction of logic into the most insane discussion I'd ever tried to follow. “We only have the cabins for three
more days, and extending for any length of time would be prohibitively expensive, in both time and money.”

Malone stood with his mug, heading toward the kitchen. “You're absolutely right. The only reasonable solution is to hold a very expedient hearing.”

“How expedient?” I demanded, already dreading the answer.

The new council chair turned to face me fully, coffeepot in one hand. “Tomorrow.”

“No!” my father shouted, and I stared as he closed his eyes, probably counting silently. When he opened them, he was calm and in control again, though I couldn't fathom how he'd managed it. I was seeing the room through a thin film of red rage. “Absolutely not. How are we supposed to prepare a defense in twelve hours?”

“Oh, I can't see how that'll be much of a problem. All Faythe has to do is tell the truth, and anyone you could possibly call as a witness is already here.”

My jaw clenched painfully. Of the possible witnesses, the only ones likely to tell the truth were Marc and Jace, whose testimony would probably be considered biased and self-serving—since they were up on the same charges—thus inadmissible.

“But I think you're missing the big picture here,” Malone continued, his back to us all now, while he poured his coffee. “A speedy trial will benefit everyone. The council is already convened, and our cabins are paid for. We'll be saving the cost of additional travel and lodging, not to mention the time away from work and our families.” Finally he turned to face the room, holding a mug of black coffee. “And really, who here wants to squander time and money, when we could
wrap this whole mess up tomorrow with minimal inconvenience.”

I had to admit he'd given a pretty good speech. Even the Alphas who would have been perfectly willing to give me time to prepare were not going to admit to wanting to “squander” their time and money.

“This ‘whole mess' you're talking about is my life!” My hands curled into fists at my back and suddenly I realized the decision to use cuffs was very deliberate. While I could cut through duct tape or rope by partially Shifting one hand, I wasn't strong enough to break through steel. “Somehow I doubt you'd be in such a rush for justice if it were one of your own men sitting here.”

Malone raised one brow and half smiled. “Ms. Sanders, are you suggesting that the council chair is biased?”

Yes
. That's precisely what I was suggesting, but I knew better than to admit it. Instead, I watched my father, studying his composure and trying to borrow some of it for myself.

Calm and steady was the only way to address a room full of Alphas, half of which were just looking for an excuse to maim me or pick a fight with my dad. And as badly as I wanted to fight—was literally itching to Shift and slash someone—even I had to admit that this was not the time to start a war. Not with me in handcuffs, our two best fighters locked up in the storage shed, and most of the rest of our men scattered in various Prides all over the country.

I took a long, slow breath. “I'm just saying that rushing through something this important seems…unwise.”

Malone actually smiled, glancing around the room at his allies to see if they shared his amusement. “Thank you for your concern. I'm sure we're all very interested in
your
assessment of what constitutes wisdom.”