Hunter's Moon (12 page)

“You can’t kill them, Daddy.” Victoria’s tone was filled with outrage, and she stomped her high-heeled foot on the fashionable rug. “If they really are mates—” She let out a hushed little sob, sniffing. “—then they belong together. It’s fate. It’s love. True love.”

William shook his head in clear disbelief of what he was hearing. “Good grief. Of all the things I have to put up with…. They will be together, honey—in death. Now off you go. I will come find you later and we can go out for brunch.” The swish of his frail hand was an indication that the audience in his majestic presence was at an end, and Victoria knew this, because her face first paled, then grew red, but then she huffed, dashed out of the room, and slammed the door shut furiously. “Women. I swear her late mother—God rest her soul—was just as much of an airhead as her daughter.”

Insulting women who sacrificed for the men in their lives was a major no-no for Gabe, who wanted to rip the man’s throat out just to stop his talking. “Do you often speak like that about your wife and daughter? You do not deserve any woman’s devotion or affection.”

William turned around with his wheelchair, and his eyes were wide in surprise. “Of all the things for you to be angry about. Don’t you think you should be more concerned with your own fate and that of your, uh, mate?” Waving his hand dismissively, William scoffed. “Some people just have no sense of timing—”

“Or common decency.” Gabe had no plan, but the words came out nonetheless. It was like his thoughts had become caged beasts, and now they broke free, when he himself—trapped by the steel titanium handcuffs and big men with automatic weapons—could not.

William’s lips thinned in anger. “You do demonstrate a distinct lack of manners, Mr. King. While you are a guest at my house—”

“I am
not
your guest. I am your prisoner, and since you are planning to have these men kill me, I definitely do not feel obliged to show you any common courtesy.” Gabe’s chin lifted in a gesture of defiance, and he sensed that their time had just run out.

What happened next was nothing short of chaotic.

The double doors opened with a bang, and Victoria walked in—holding a shotgun in her hands.

She fired the gun once; the recoil forced her to stumble back and the barrel of the gun jolted up and hit her hard on her forehead, stunning her. The shot blew a hole the size of a football in William’s chest. The impact made his wheelchair tip back and fall to the floor with a clanking noise. Blood streamed out of William’s wound, and the man groaned and twitched in place, but it was obvious nothing could be done.

With an almost inaudible sigh and a full-body shiver, William Adler was dead.

For the span of a heartbeat there was only shocked silence.

Victoria sniffed loudly. “No one murders true love on my watch.”

Then suddenly everyone was moving.

Kieran was the first to react.

Bouncing up on his feet, he jumped over his own arms and brought his chained hands in front of him, hit the man behind him with his elbow, twirled around like he was dancing a pirouette, and locked the handcuff chain around the man’s neck, squeezing. All of that could not have taken more than a split second. The man was gurgling, and then his neck snapped and he fell limp in Kieran’s arms.

Then the man’s gun was in Kieran’s hand.

Unlike Kieran, who had been kept in a kneeling position on the floor, Gabe was cuffed to the metal chair. Still, he pushed with his legs, fell backward, and awkwardly rolled over to get to his feet, keeping the chair before him as a weapon. The mercenary behind him locked his arms around him and tried to shove him down on his knees into a better strangling hold. Gabe lifted the chair high above his head and hit the man with it, thus releasing the chokehold around his throat.

Several shots rang out, and Gabe ducked, tossing the man behind him to the front of him while lunging for the cover of the wooden desk.

“Kieran!” Needing nothing more than a mere grunt to ascertain that his mate was alive and relatively unharmed, Gabe held his breath, frantically searching for the faintest sound from his mate.

Suddenly someone stormed over the desk, half sliding gracefully, half flinging in a less than majestic manner, and fell to the floor next to him in a heap of limbs. “Right here.” Kieran’s voice may have been strained, but it was from exertion and adrenaline, not fear. This was his battlefield, and he knew the game better than anyone Gabe had ever met.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gabe saw Victoria seeking shelter behind the same wood desk barricade as they did—and she no longer had the shotgun in her hands. She looked frantic and disheveled, and yet there was a strange emotionless coherence about her. Gabe ignored her.

“You miserable coward,” Deck called out to them, apparently also having found cover from the bullets flying—though that had ceased for the moment.

“Leave now, Deck, and take everybody with you,” Kieran shouted back, recovered in full and leaning against the pullout cabinets. “I don’t want to have to kill you.” Kieran opened the magazine, checked how much ammo was left, and shoved it right back in, cocking the weapon.

“The client’s dead, but we still got you and your pansy-ass boyfriend.” Blazing with wrath, Deck had clearly decided there was no other end to this scenario but the death of Kieran and Gabe. “Don’t even for a second fool yourself into thinking we’re just going to pack up and leave. We’re not going anywhere without what we came here for. Your lily-livered boy-toy is our ticket out of here, and there’s no way in hell—”

“Slade’s already dead,” Kieran cut in. “You wanna join him, Deck? ’Cause you gotta know by now I’ll do whatever it takes to kill you if you cross me again.”

“Me cross
you
?” Deck was pissed and he must have gotten up because his voice came through clearer, unobstructed now—and he was coming closer. A shot was fired into the desk, but it was just for show. “I’ve had your back for years. And what do I get for it? You betraying me and running off with the asset.”

“I had no choice, you gotta know that.” Sweat droplets were popping up on Kieran’s forehead, and Gabe wanted only to hold him in his arms and tell him everything was going to be all right. Not that he knew if it was true or not.

But Deck did not get an opportunity to reply in any meaningful way before something light and metallic slid across the floor—Gabe heard it distinctly—and then a flash of blinding light shot out of the device. As a lycan, Gabe recovered instantaneously, and before he could stop himself and listen to the voice of reason, he had closed the distance between himself and Deck, knocked the gun out of his hand, punched him in the gut, and restrained him on his knees, yanking Deck’s arm behind his back, almost twisting it out of its socket.

“Jesus, Gabe,” Kieran’s chafing voice scolded him, and then Kieran was pointing two guns at the two remaining mercenaries in the room who weren’t unconscious. “Nice and easy, fellas. Put down your guns or I blow holes through your pretty little heads.”

The two men seemed to think it over, glancing at each other.

By then it was too late as the study was suddenly swarming with big guys in black combat wear and with even bigger automatic weapons. One of the mercenaries yelled “Keepers!” and tried to fire, but was shot in the chest and fell back against the bookshelf. The last mercenary readily put down his gun and raised his hands in submission. Prison would undoubtedly be a cakewalk for him and his unconscious compatriots, Gabe surmised, with their skill sets.

But he was too busy wondering what
he
should do while being held at gunpoint for the umpteenth time in twenty-four hours.

“You can put down your weapons, boys, ’cause I’m in the house.”

Gabe wasn’t alone. Both he and Kieran, and the mercenaries, turned to watch as the wall of armed men divided, like the parting sea, to reveal Erin sauntering into the room, all cool and petite and powerful. Gabe was pretty sure he was staring at her totally dumbfounded, and he could have sworn he heard the audible click of Kieran’s jaw falling open in surprise.

“W-what…?” Kieran mumbled.

All of a sudden Deck broke loose of Gabe’s distracted hold, dug out his knife from his ankle holster, and lunged at Kieran.

Everything happened at once.

Kieran turned both guns toward Deck and fired.

The armed men with Erin shot their weapons.

And Gabe transformed and burst into action. His wolf was out before his brain had the chance to process the shift. Faintly, he heard the rip and tear of his clothes, felt the fur push through his pores, and his claws and fangs pop up. Then he was on Deck’s back and, howling, he attacked the man with his canines, biting into the soft flesh of his neck. Blood filled his mouth and a high-pitched scream deafened his heightened sense of hearing.

Someone was shouting “Gabe, no!”, but Gabe couldn’t focus on the sound. His claws shredded the hard vest, thick clothes, and yielding flesh under him, and he kept biting and gnawing, unable to let go of the man who had hurt and tried to kill his mate.

Then…. “Gabe, he’s dead. Let him go.” Kieran’s voice was low, nearly desperate, and it cut through the blood-red haze invading Gabe’s primitive, animalistic brain. He let go of Deck, sensing that he was holding onto a man whose heart no longer beat, and looked up.

What he saw made his heart miss a beat. Kieran’s blue-gray eyes were wide and his face pale, worried—and frightened. He was staring at Gabe like he was a complete stranger. To an extent that was true, but what Kieran saw was apparently something totally alien to him.

Swallowing down blood and a whole host of unpleasant emotions, Gabe backed off a few steps and turned around. Vaguely, he saw how the remaining mercenaries and Victoria had been detained and were in the process of being corralled out, and he became aware that his clothes were in tatters, one stitch away from falling apart and leaving him stark naked. Wiping the blood from around his mouth, he knew he had changed back to his human self, but the knowledge of the beast having overcome his reason so easily worried him and made him sick to his stomach with guilt and shame.

Behind him he heard Erin speak to Kieran. “Sorry it took us so long to come, Kay, but better late than never, eh?” There was awkward humor in her tone, so Gabe deduced she was trying to lighten the atmosphere—unsuccessfully.

“Where the fuck did you manage to recruit all these goons?” Kieran’s voice was harsh and devoid of all positive feelings.

Erin chuckled hoarsely, and Gabe wondered if she was a smoker. “They’re not mine.”

“They are
mine
,” a man’s voice cut through, expertly collected and pleasant to hear. “Mr. King? I am here for you.” Gabe wanted to turn around, but couldn’t face his mate’s detached, cold expression just yet. “I represent the Veil Keepers, and we are here to escort you home safely.” The man came closer, his tone softening. “Would you like to wash up and change before we leave? The mansion has been secured—”

“I would like that, yes,” Gabe interjected, knowing he came off raspy and rude, broken and defeated.

Without looking at Erin and Kieran, Gabe kept his head down and allowed himself to be led out of the study by the Keepers. He didn’t take a gander at the lead Keeper either, but he did get an impression of him as the strong, reassuring leader type. Gabe didn’t inquire his name as that didn’t matter. The Keepers were a secret order of both humans and mythical beings predating the Great Unveiling by centuries, and their sole task was the continued protection of all mythical creatures in the world. Their methods and operational protocols had changed since the Veil lifted, but their mandate had not.

Gabe was safe and sound with them—and he was going home.

Chapter Seven

“L
ET
’
S
talk outside.” Erin pulled on Kieran’s arm and dragged him out of the mansion, though he would have preferred to speak with Gabriel as soon as possible. He had recognized the shame and embarrassment Gabriel had felt after killing Deck from his maudlin expression and his refusal to meet Kieran’s eyes. Reluctantly, he allowed himself to be led to the lush, fragrant garden out front with its freshly mowed lawn and color-rich flowerbeds. Not that they were very visible in the dark of the night, under the ruddy full moon.

“How come you’re in bed with the Keepers?” Kieran asked the moment they were out of earshot from the big guys and gals with even bigger guns.

Erin shrugged. “Why do you even bother asking me that, Kay? Since when have you shown any interest in what I do with my life? As long as I don’t end up in jail—”

“Which you have on, what, seven separate occasions on three separate continents,” Kieran reminded her sternly.

“That’s beside the point.” Her look was all hard and steely, and the full weight of her piercing gaze was directed at Kieran who squirmed under the scrutiny he knew well. “How come you’re in bed with a lycan?”

Kieran sighed. “He’s my mate. I have no idea what that means exactly, but… there you have it.” Then he gave her a scolding glare. “And don’t think I didn’t fucking notice you changing the subject. You never told me anything about the Keepers.”

“Jesus, Kay. When do we ever see each other? When do we ever really talk?” Erin was getting pissed now, just like Kieran already was, and this was a family trait they shared. “Besides, you’re a mercenary, and you hunt beings from the formerly Unseen world—and I try to help and save them. Why the fuck would I tell you anything about the Keepers and what I do with them?”

“Okay, okay. Jesus.” Kieran gave up, raising his hands in submission. “No need to bite my fucking head off.” Taking a deep breath, he felt it might be safe to continue. “So… what do you have going on with them anyway?”

“There’s a rescue shelter at Homochitto, and I’m in charge.”

“For mythical creatures?” Erin nodded, her chin lifted in defiance, expecting a fight. “For those like Gabe, you know, those more man than beast? Or for those creatures who don’t possess intelligence and would sooner kill and eat you than care that you’re trying to save them?”