Bloodlines (30 page)

“I like our apartment better, though,” Redford said. “At least there I don’t need to sleep on the opposite side of the fence from you.”

“You didn’t need to do that here,” Jed pointed out mildly. “There was a whole cabin, just for you. Bet Knievel thought you were giving up the bed because she demanded it.”

“She could have it.” Redford shrugged, tucking his head in under Jed’s chin. “I wanted to be close to you. I
needed
to be close to you. Everything in me was screaming about it. Including the, you know, the instincts.”

“Maybe that’s not such a good thing.” Jed didn’t want to be cuddling. He didn’t want Redford anywhere near him. Because by being
near him
, Jed was just continuing this idea that Redford had to be a tame wolf, that he had to fit into the world Jed knew. But that wasn’t the right place for him, was it? That was why everyone back at hippie wolf central was looking at them like they’d sprouted two heads. They knew. Wolves and humans didn’t mix. “Tonight you should, you know, sleep in the cabin thing. Like the other wolves do.”

Redford gave a shudder at the idea. “No,” he said simply. “If you have to sleep outside again, I’m sleeping with you. And if it rains or if it’s muddy, then I’ll sneak you in.” He paused. “Maybe I’ll do that anyway. That way you could sleep on an actual bed.”

Jed was a stubborn man. He knew that. And, more than nearly anything, he wanted Redford. His list for Things Jed Needs To Survive was actually pretty damn simple. Redford, Knievel, his gun, some beer, a brick of C-4, and a window to see the sky from. That was it.

But loving someone the way he loved Redford wasn’t as easy as he’d thought it’d be. It made him want Redford to be happy a fucking lot more than he cared about his own interests. “Nah,” he lied so easily, kissing Redford’s forehead. “I’ll go to the hotel tonight if Miss Priss doesn’t let us in. You should bond with the wolves. Make furry friends.”

He’d stay. Of course he would. But Jed was beginning to think, to
know
, that for Redford to be happy, he’d need a lot more than what was on Jed’s list. A window wasn’t enough. Redford deserved the whole fucking sky.

What he sometimes tended to forget was that Redford could be as stubborn as he was.

“Then I’ll come with you.” Redford lifted his head, bringing a hand up to cup Jed’s cheek. “Wherever you go, I go. No matter what, right?”

Well, if Redford needed to run, maybe Jed would just have to figure out how to keep up. Letting out a slow breath, Jed turned his head to kiss Redford’s palm. “I just want you to be happy,” he admitted gruffly.

“I am happy.” Redford twisted their fingers together and bent down to kiss Jed’s knuckles. He gave a rueful little smile. “Besides, I’m not sure I’d want to stay here too long. Communal living isn’t really my thing.”

“Yeah, well.” Jed leaned his forehead against Redford’s. He hated thinking about this shit. He hated the idea that there’d be a morning or an evening or anything in between where Redford wouldn’t be there. So maybe they’d be okay. Maybe Jed would just… buy a house. With a big-ass yard. People had houses with yards; it wasn’t an impossible thing. “What do you think about maybe getting out of that apartment? We finish this job, go fishing, get Knievel into that flotation vest, and when we get back we can look for something with some more room?”

“But you love that apartment,” Redford protested, “
I
love that apartment, and—”

He cut himself off, turning his head to face in the direction they’d climbed up the side of the mountain from. He blinked, and then his eyes were yellow again, lip pulled up in the start of a snarl.

“Hunters,” Redford said briefly, moving off Jed so he could get his pants back on. “Come on. I know where they’re hiding.”

Well, the whole wolf thing just wasn’t getting any less hot, that was for sure. Jed managed to shimmy into his jeans, even though they were still mostly wet. He had to crouch to pull his boots back onto his feet, nearly toppling over twice before bracing his hand on a nearby tree for balance. They ducked into their shirts, and Jed tugged on his holster before kicking out the fire, moving the branches of their makeshift roof aside to let water spill down to sodden the ashes. It only took Jed a few minutes to disassemble their shelter, shrug on his jacket, and grab Redford’s hand. “Quiet,” he murmured, though he probably didn’t have to say that to Redford, not when he was like this. “Show me where they went.”

Redford was hiding his mouth with a hand, though Jed could catch the smile in his expression from the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “You’re… squeaking.” Redford’s gaze darted down to Jed’s soaked jeans.

Growling under his breath, Jed just stalked off. Yeah, he was fucking squeaking. “
Someone
wouldn’t let me get my
pants off
,” he grumbled, shaking one leg and then the other as if he could flick off the excess water.

“I only barely heard it,” Redford reassured from behind Jed, following him. “Wolf ears.” He then took Jed’s shoulder, turning him forty-five degrees to the left. “This way.”

Adjusting his gait but never losing the irritated tic of his shoulders, Jed led the way down the muddy bank, back into the thick of the woods. The craggy face of the mountain swept downward, and they picked their way over rocks and fallen limbs, shoes sucking in the wet undergrowth. Jed’s gun was out, both hands on the butt as he eased around the trees, gaze constantly sweeping the area around them.

“Tell me when we’re close,” he whispered.

“They’re good at masking their sounds,” Redford replied, equally as lowly, sounding frustrated. “I haven’t heard anything from them since that first noise. But this is where it came from.”

Pausing, Jed frowned, holding up his hand to keep Redford back. Everything looked exactly like the rest of this goddamn forest, all towering trees and the drip of water from soaked leaves onto the ground. But there was something
off
about the dense thicket ahead. Jed eased forward carefully, making almost no noise—except, apparently,
squeaking
—as he picked his way through the underbrush.

There were bent branches on a bush he passed. Some of the leaves were disturbed. No animal tracks, though. Carefully, Jed made his way around a large tree, stopping cold as he got past the pine’s branches.

It was a clearing. Small, well hidden, but just enough space for the roughly built cabin. Jed immediately backed up, heart pounding as unexpected adrenaline surged through him. Minutes ticked past, though, with no gunfire, no one rushing after him, no one calling out. Jed moved slowly back around the tree trunk he’d taken shelter behind, gun aimed at the windows, looking for a hint of a sniper’s barrel.

Nothing.

The porch of the cabin creaked under his foot, and he froze again. There were footprints in the mud leading away, clear tire treads going in the opposite direction. The marks had to be fresh. The rain would have washed anything previous away.

He eased the door open, teeth gritted with the expectation that it might creak, though it never did. Inside was one big room, bunks in one corner, a stove in the other. It was empty. Sticking his head back out the door, he whistled sharply once and waited for Redford to join him, watching the woods for any sign of the hunters’ return.

Redford padded silently out of the forest, with—Jed noted, as a point of pride—his gun held loosely in one hand, muzzle pointed at the ground. He joined Jed just inside the doorway, taking in the room.

“Can you smell anything?” Jed asked, interested. Redford was so much better at this shit than anyone would expect, and the whole
nose
thing was so fucking cool. In Cairo, Redford had seriously gone full-Lassie-mode and followed Randall’s trail based on nothing but a shirt.

“They left maybe ten minutes ago,” Redford offered, though he sounded unsure about the time. “About that, anyway.”

Wandering the room, Jed paused in front of a pin board. It held a map covered with thumbtacks and sticky notes. Leaning in, he scanned over them, memorizing the positions of the tacks, absently running his fingers along the notes.

Sm. pk. 2 d.

Feed. ground. 3 d.

Followed 2, tkn.

“They’re hunting,” Jed agreed after a pause, voice distant. Frowning, he tapped his finger against the map. “Where are we? About here, right?” There was a blue tack there, three other ones spread across the map. “These must be their base cabins. And these….”

Red tacks and yellow. “Red for kills, yellow for something else. Potential hunts? Where they’ll hit next?”

Redford was studying the blue tacks, eyes narrowed. “Jed,” he said slowly, “This is
really
long-term, isn’t it? This isn’t just random humans running around to kill wolves they’re scared of.”

“They’re not just hunting wolves. They’re hunting… well, yeah, wolves. But not
normal
wolves. You wolves. Human wolves.” Jed pointed to the notes. “This isn’t some wildlife special gone wrong. Look. Small pack, two dead, maybe?” Deciphering bad handwriting and shorthand wasn’t easy. Jed squinted at the next two, centered around a cluster of yellow pins. “This looks like they were following two. Taken, maybe?” Taken where? For what? “They have to know what they’re hunting. If it was just wolves, wouldn’t there be, shit, more red marks? Regular wolves are pretty plentiful up here, and they’re not exactly Houdini.”

When he went to look over at Redford, the man had wandered off to the other side of the cabin. Nose twitching, Redford was running his hands along the rough wooden walls, pausing every so often to knock lightly. His knuckles rapped against the walls at odd intervals, and Jed paused, just watching him, completely confused. Until, that is, Redford hit a hollow-sounding board. Leaning in, Redford took a deep breath before stepping back, eyes going over every inch of the wall carefully. Then, just that easy, he reached out and pressed on a seam Jed wasn’t sure he would have even noticed on his own.

A door swung open, revealing a tiny, cramped room. There were rows of semiautomatic rifles and long knives hanging from the walls. Several of the spots were bare, the weapons obviously taken out by the hunters. In the center was a wooden table with box after box of bullets. Redford picked through them, letting out a low noise as he flipped open the lid of one. “I don’t think people just trying to hunt regular wolves would have these.”

He held up a silver bullet.

Jed’s jaw tightened as he moved to Redford’s side, taking the bullet and holding it up to the light. The way Redford had Nancy Drewed the room was definitely going to be mentioned as fucking cool. Later, though. Right then, Jed was busy studying the bullet like it could tell him all the answers he needed. Silver knife with sacrificed blood or whatever the shit—that had killed Filtiarn. But he’d been special. Old. Regular bullets had worked just fine on Fil’s pack, whether they’d been werewolves or full wolves or something in between. So why the silver?

“This shit’s got to be expensive,” he murmured, turning the bullet over in his fingers, squinting to see the faint markings on the bottom. “And specially made. See that? It’s a marking telling us the manufacturer.” Jed tipped the bullet toward Redford, letting him look closer. The letters
B
and
C
were etched there in brackets, and he felt like he should know this. Like he’d seen that before.

Redford picked up the box that the rest of the bullets were stored in, taking a sniff of it, and turned his head aside to sneeze suddenly. “This smells like… cow?” Redford wrinkled his nose in confusion. “But also kind of familiar?”

“Well, we did have burgers last week,” Jed pointed out. He grabbed a bag from the corner, loading up one of the guns that had been left behind, a box of bullets, and then started carefully taking down the maps, working extremely gently as he rolled them so as not to lose the place of any of the pins. “Help me grab this stuff. We need to get out of here before Tweedledum and Tweedle-murders come back.” He’d love to take all the goddamn bullets, but even he, with his He-Man like strength, couldn’t lug that much back to the van.

There were a few books they jammed into the pack, another half a dozen maps with writing on them Jed didn’t bother to stop to read. Wherever the hunters had gone, they might not stay away much longer. Jed wasn’t exactly in the mood to have a face to face.

Not yet, anyway.

They ducked out of the cabin, Jed urging Redford into a run for the cover of the trees. Once they were out of the clearing, Jed looped the strap of the duffel bag across his chest and dug in his own bag to find his compass. “We need to get back. Whoever these chucklefucks are, they’re packing enough ammo to start a very small, very bloody war.” He had the urge to blow the whole fucking cabin to kingdom come. Sadly, he didn’t travel with his C-4, and he hadn’t spotted any in the armory itself. Which might be a good thing. Starting a forest fire would get Smokey the Bear on his ass, not to mention Jed had no idea who these bastards were. More information was probably needed before he started exploding things.

Too bad. Would have made him feel better.

The air was still damp with the aftereffects of the storm, and the crack of very distant thunder told Jed that some other poor bastard was having to deal with the torrential rain now. As long as it wasn’t him. He shook the compass, hitting it with his palm a few times to get the needle working. Redford just lifted his chin and sniffed, then pointed to where his nose must be picking up their own trail. “That way.”

Oh. Huh. “Have I told you in the past hour how awesome you are?” Jed asked with a grin, hefting both of his bags up to settle their straps more firmly across his shoulders and chest before setting out in the direction Redford had indicated at a brisk jog. They had more than two miles to go, and Jed wanted to cover it as quickly as they could.

“I still don’t understand why
you
have to carry everything,” Redford said beside him, keeping pace. For someone who had never been properly trained in stealth, he did a damn good job of avoiding dry twigs and rocks that would tumble.