For the Good of All (Law of the Lycans Book 7) (23 page)

Now he was willing the water in the coconut shell pot he’d fashioned to boil quickly. The thick vegetation meant the minute amount of smoke produced wasn’t likely to be seen, but he still didn’t want to take any chances. In normal circumstances, he would have foregone a fire completely, but he needed to cleanse Christina’s wound and sterilized strips of cloth was all he had to offer; the alcohol wipes in the first aid kit were already gone.

A glance her way showed her face was flushed. Was it the heat or a fever from infection? The damned jungle was the worst place to be injured.

But she has great strength of spirit
. His wolf gave a nod of approval.
She hasn’t complained once.

True. Instead, she was entertaining the children who seemed quite fascinated with her and the ridiculous rag doll she’d insisted on bringing along. They were tugging at the colourful ribbons and then the equally colourful strands of her hair. Surprisingly, they hadn’t cried or even made a sound since awakening. Perhaps shock had rendered them mute. Whatever the case, he wasn’t complaining. Luck was on his side at the moment and that seldom happened. He counted his blessings.

After they’d veered off the path last night, he’d managed to find them some shelter in a crevice between a few large rocks. Using palm branches, he’d fashioned a roof and a crude mat so they weren’t directly on the damp ground. Their tracks seemed to have been sufficiently obscured by the steady rain from earlier on. The storm had wreaked enough havoc with fallen branches and leaves that their trail would be hard to distinguish from the disruption nature had caused. As an added bonus, there was no sign yet that they were being followed. Yeah, luck was on their side. He only hoped it held out long enough for them to make it out alive.

The water was finally hot, the strips hopefully sterilized. He set them aside to cool and put a new pot of water on to boil. This second batch would go in the canteen. Rising to his feet, he carried the fruit he’d gathered earlier over to Christina and the pups. The children stilled as he approached pressing themselves closer to Christina.

“It’s all right,” she crooned, giving them each a hug. “Stone has food for us.”

One popped a thumb in its mouth and looked at him with wide eyes while the other hid its face against Christina’s shoulder.

He crouched and cleared his throat. “Yeah. I’m one of the good guys. See?” He held out a coconut he’d cut open. “This is good for you to drink.”

The one with a thumb in its mouth blinked at him while the other hazarded a peek from between its tiny fingers.

“It’s good.” Christina encouraged, gently turning the pup, a girl child, to face him.

Stone held back a sigh of relief when the tot finally took his offering. He didn’t know what to do with kids. They were too small and fragile and innocent—completely out of his experience.

Christina peeled a banana and handed it to the other tyke who finally took his thumb out of his mouth. She whispered something to them that made them giggle, handed them the doll and they toddled off to the sleeping mat he’d created.

With the children occupied, he focused on Christina. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.” The sheen of sweat on her face belied the smile she gave him.

“Let me check your leg.” He peeled back the blood stained bandage and examined the wound. It was red, the flesh around it hot to the touch. When he flicked a glance at her, she was staring at the wound, her brow furrowed.

“Llama biscuits.” She hissed the words, and looked away.

“Llama biscuits?” Once again her unique swearing methods caught him off guard. “You can’t just say ‘shit’?”

“Nope. It shows no imagination, so it’s llama biscuits.” She took a deep breath and then gave a weak smile. “Red isn’t good. It clashes with my hair.”

“You can carry it off.” He reached out and lightly tugged on a lock of her hair. “You’d look good in any colour.”

“Flattery, Stone?”

“Just the truth.” His gaze locked with hers for a moment before he cleared his throat and looked away feeling strangely uncomfortable.

“I wish you’d been around in high school.”

“Why’s that?” He moved to get the bandages.

“Anthony Spallinni.”

“What about him?”

“He was a high school jock. I had a crush on him.”

“Already I don’t like him.” He crouched beside her and began to clean the area.

A hitch in her breathing and the clenching of her fists was the only indication she gave that she was in pain. “Brave girl,” he murmured.

“Thanks.” She exhaled slowly.

“So, tell me about the jerk.”

“How do you know he was a jerk?”

“Isn’t that how the story always goes?”

“Probably. He was a bit of a jerk, but it was also my fault for building a fantasy around him. He never promised me anything and Sam tried to warn me.”

“Sam? That’s the Chicago Alpha?” He took a fresh strip of cloth and continued to gently cleanse the area.

She watched him for a moment before returning to her narrative. “Yeah. Sam and I went to high school together.”

“I bet she offered to kick the guy’s butt for you.”

“Sort of. After Anthony and I did the dirty deed, he dumped me because I was too boring, too ordinary.”

“You were boring and ordinary?”

She finger combed her hair. “Hard to imagine now, isn’t it? But yeah, I was back then.”

“So what did Sam do to avenge your honour? I’m assuming she did, of course.”

“We did it together. She helped me let the air out of his tires and then we put sand in his gas tank.”

“What? That’s it? No hexes from you? Sam didn’t corner him in an alley as a wolf and snarl until he peed himself?”

Christina laughed. “I wish, but like I said, my hexes never work. And Sam’s grandfather was Alpha at the time and he’d have grounded her for a year if she’d pulled a stunt like that.”

“It might have been worth it.”

“True.”

He applied a light dressing from the first aid kit. “So because of this guy, you dye your hair all different colours.”

“No. He might have given me the initial push, but I discovered a hidden talent because of him. My face and hair are the canvas for my artwork.”

“Artwork? Is that what you women call a haircut and getting your nails done?”

“You’re thinking about a cosmetologist or a hairdresser. We take some of the same courses, but a make-up artist works in theatre or movies turning actors into anything from an ape to a zombie.”

“Learn something new every day.” Stone sat back, having finished his task. “Okay. I’m all done.”

“Thanks for taking care of my leg.” She visibly relaxed, letting him know the process hadn’t been easy on her. “And for trying to distract me.”

“Is that what I was doing?” He began to pack away the supplies, keeping his face impassive.

“Never admit to doing anything nice. Is that your credo?”

“Pretty much.” He used his machete to open another coconut. “Drink this. I’m going to call Reno and then we’ll rest for a few hours before setting out.”

She nodded and leaned back. He propped her leg up and then went back to the fire. As soon as he was gone, the children approached her again. Part of him wanted to shoo them away so she could rest, but maybe it was for the best. They’d keep her mind occupied and she’d keep them entertained while he made his call. He picked up the phone and dialled. Reno answered immediately.

“Reno, we’ve got a problem.”

“You didn’t get the pups? Hell, High Council is going to—”

“No, we have the pups. Christina’s been shot.”

“Shit.” There was a pause before Reno spoke again. “Explain.”

Stone delivered the details as succinctly as possible, only leaving out Dante’s part; that was his own personal vendetta. “We’ll need to use the chopper to get out. There’s no way she can make the hike back to the jeep.”

“Where are you now?”

Stone pulled out the map. “I’m not exactly sure. We had to leave the path, but I’d guess a couple of miles from the river. As for getting to the rendezvous site, I’d say, at best, another day. We’re moving slow.”

“That’s not good. The longer you’re there, the greater the chance you’ll be discovered.”

“I know, but it can’t be helped.”

There was a pause, then another voice came on the line. “Fielding here.”

“Fielding?” Stone recalled the name from his Enforcer days. He’d never met the man but remembered him being touted as an up and comer.

“That’s right. I was put in charge of this situation and High Councillor Duffy is breathing down my neck wanting an update. What’s this about a hold up?”

Stone held back a growl and re-explained. Neither he nor his wolf had any use for bureaucracy. However, since Lycan Link was supplying the chopper, some concessions had to be made, like not telling the man to go screw himself.

“Humph.” Fielding didn’t sound impressed. “It’s a shame about the witch but remember speed is of the utmost importance. You need to get those pups out of there, no matter what.”

“I know.”

“Good. I’m counting on you to do whatever it takes to make this mission a success. A lot of people’s butts are on the line over this.”

Great. Just what he didn’t want to hear. “Understood.”

“And Stone?”

“Yeah?”

“I know you’ll do the right thing.”

Fielding hung up and Stone sat there, clutching the phone in his hand while he watched Christina softly singing to the children. It was something about a spider and a waterspout. Strange choice given how much she disliked spiders.

He put the phone away and scrubbed his face with his hands. ‘Speed is of the utmost importance’. ‘I know you’ll do the right thing’. Hadn’t he always done the right thing, the just thing, the thing that was in the best interest of the whole group? Sometimes those choices had been easy. Other times, they’d sucked. He hoped this wasn’t going to be one of them.

Progress was slow that day. Walking, resting, walking, resting. At one point, his Lycan hearing picked up the sound of men nearby. He’d hidden Christina and the children then shifted to his wolf form to investigate. It was two of Mendoza’s men. Rather than wasting precious time waiting for them to leave the area, he’d dealt with them and then dragged the bodies into the river. Dead men told a lot of tales. If the corpses were found by Mendoza’s militia it would be like a beacon pointing the way. He’d let the crocodiles hide the evidence for him. When he’d returned, Christina hadn’t questioned him on what had happened. Her face, however, had seemed paler, her eyes wide. No doubt, she’d heard the snarls and screams.

“It’s safe for us to move on now.” He looked her directly in the eye, not offering any explanation. Justice wasn’t always pretty and he made no apologies for it. He was used to being judged harshly.

She swallowed hard, then awkwardly rose to her feet. “Thanks for keeping us safe.”

He nodded and they continued on their way.

Mendoza was still looking for them. It had been too much to hope the bastard would have just given up; that kind didn’t like to lose. With that in mind, Stone pushed his small entourage as much as he dared, balancing the need for speed against Christina’s stamina and how weary the children were of being carried.

They were still mute, but the wiggling of their small bodies in his arms indicated when they needed a break. While they might not be comfortable around him yet, they respected him as an Alpha figure, looking up at him with big eyes and nodding in understanding when he spoke. It was more than he’d initially hoped for.

When he finally called a halt, Christina nearly crumpled to the ground.

“Sorry. I pushed you too hard.” He cursed himself as he set up their camp. The children could sleep in the hammock. He and Christina would share the lean-to he’d fashioned for them out of the plentiful palm and banana leaves.

“Don’t blame yourself. We needed to keep moving.” Christina wiped her sweaty face with the edge of her shirt, strain showing in her features.

He nodded in agreement, knowing she was right. It didn’t mean he liked the fact, though.

Dinner was mostly fruit; there was no time for fishing and he was meting out the rations just in case. Under Christina’s direction, he wiped the children’s faces and hands before putting them to bed in the hammock, placing the doll, Clarice, alongside them. As he tucked the mosquito netting into place, he paused to study the tiny beings. Paul Jr. and Lily. Chubby cheeks, curly hair. Dark lashes framing wide eyes. What would have happened to them if Dante had gotten his hands on them?

It is good that we were here to save them,
his wolf stated.
They are fine pups.

Yes, fine pups indeed. They’d been much easier to deal with than he’d expected
.

“Stone, is there a problem?” Christina called to him from where she lay.

“No.” With a final glance he moved away from the hammock and sat down beside her.

The small fire he’d lit flickered, casting a glow around them. Christina shifted her position, wincing with the movement but not complaining.