Logan's Acadian Wolves (42 page)

Unbeknownst to Wynter, Logan had assigned Jake to take up the north shore where Fiona planned on laying her crab trap. A trained sniper, he’d scan the area for trouble. Zeke took his post, fishing at the old Hanover dock, a mile off from where they’d set out to make their stop. It seemed like a lot of work for one run out to the lake. But Wynter was wound tight, and he felt his wolf pacing in response. Their self-imposed seclusion was taking its toll on both of them. He wasn’t built to stay indoors for days at a time. Even in the city, he’d get out, running as a human. His dream home felt like it had turned into a prison. The fresh air would do them all some good, and later in the evening, he and Dimitri would resume the search for the killer.

By the time they reached the open lake, Wynter felt as if a weight had lifted. The high speed boat ride had been exhilarating. It was as if the wind against her face had blown away her cobwebs of worry. It wasn’t lost on Wynter how much trouble Logan had gone to so they could get out of the house. Part of her knew he just wanted to get her out of the lab so she’d stop obsessing about the virus. Her work would never be done, she thought. Regardless, it warmed her heart that he’d protect her and go to such great lengths so they could all have a few fun hours in the sun.

Soon, they’d reached their destination, and Logan cut the engine. The long, thin dance boat bobbed in the open water. Logan gave the go ahead to the girls. He took Wynter’s hand and helped her up the steps so she could lay out on the bow. She shook off her shoes, preferring to go barefoot. Even though it was February, the weather was expected to go into the eighties, so she’d thrown on a bathing suit underneath her clothes. Carefully, she trod onto the smooth fiberglass, laid out an oversized beach towel and sat down. Fiona trailed behind her, carrying the large bound bundle of sprigs.

“Hey, girl, can you hold this rope for me?” Fiona asked, letting the blue tarp fall open onto the bow.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh this? It’s Wax Myrtle. I’m goin’ bunch it up and throw it into the lake.”

Wynter gave her a confused look and glanced back to Dimitri and Logan who didn’t look at all surprised. She thought it funny that with such an expensive shiny toy, he could have cared less that Fiona had just laid out a huge canvas on it. She loved that no matter his means, at the end of the day, Logan was down to earth. No pretenses, what you saw was what you got.

Fiona began to tie up the branches and continued. “Yeah, the pre-molt crabs love this stuff. They crawl in and then we’ll come back later, pull it out and shake ’em out. Normally, I’d haul this mess in my little skiff, but since that’s not an option today, Logan said I could bring it here. Anyway, about the crabs, we catch ’em before their shells return, then we’ll eat soft shell crabs.”

“Oh,” Wynter said, amazed. “So…uh…how did you learn to do this?’

“My daddy. Some folks sell ’em. I just eat ’em. Tasty little critters,” she commented as she worked to bale up the plants. Plucking off a leaf, she crushed it and handed it over to Wynter. “Smell.”

Wynter took the gooey green mixture and sniffed. She thought better of commenting about Fiona’s father, remembering what Logan had told her. “Mmm…nice.”

“Yeah, isn’t it? They’ve been using it for hundreds of years. It’s our way.” Fiona eyed Wynter as she continued to handle the aromatic plant. “You really are a city girl, aren’t ya?”

“Born and bred. I may not know how to catch crabs but I can get you from Midtown to Soho faster than anyone else…even at rush hour,” she joked. “Have you ever been to the Big Apple?”

Fiona tightened the knots. “Um, yeah. Was there a few years ago. Art show…a charity event. I’m very interested in new artists. I have a little gallery in the quarter. Well, it’s more of a natural herb and art gallery combo. I’m technically the pack healer, but that doesn’t pay the bills,” she quipped.

“I’d love to see it sometime, the art. I haven’t spent much time in New Orleans, but it really is very unique. You can feel the history speaking to you, if you know what I mean.”

“So Wyn, how are you doing? What I mean is, how do you like being a wolf?” Fiona changed the subject, hurling the bundle overboard. A red bullet-shaped crab float tugged at the surface. She folded up the tarp.

“I’ve only shifted once, but yes. Logan, he’s…” She gave him a backwards glance. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses but suspected he was watching her. Wynter searched for the right words to describe her situation, unsure how much to share with the young she-wolf. Fiona seemed friendly but she also was friends with Luci. “He’s been very supportive.”

“Ah, is that what you humans call it? Supportive? I bet he’s been very supportive…all day and all night long, huh? Just look at that mark on your neck.” Fiona rolled her eyes and relaxed against the side of the boat.

Wynter laughed and absentmindedly traced her fingers over her shoulder. She looked over again at Logan who smiled at her. Deciding on honesty, she turned back to Fiona.

“He’s my mate.” There, she’d said it. She’d told one person, a friend, about Logan. And it felt freeing and girly. She wished Mika was the first friend she’d told. But Fiona had been kind enough to bring her out on the water, care about how she was doing.

“And?” Fiona drawled with a wicked smile.

“And what?” Wynter asked coyly.

“Do you love him?” Fiona whispered as if she was getting ready to hear a national secret.

Wynter knew Logan could hear every word of their conversation but still, Fiona insisted on whispering. It struck Wynter as funny and she began to giggle, as did Fiona. Just as she was going to respond, something caught her attention. To the east, a medium-sized, black sailboat drifted toward them.

“Hey, that boat over there. He’s coming toward us,” Wynter observed with a growing panic. As far as she was concerned, any stranger was a potential threat.

Logan pulled out the binoculars. A man in white shorts and a pink polo shirt struggled with the sail control lines while a woman lay on the blood-tinged deck. He suspected she was down with a boom injury. Even experienced sailors were susceptible to accidents, but by the look of things, the man on deck appeared confused, lines strewn every which direction.
Damn fools.
Too many times an overconfident wannabe rented too much of a boat and ended up needing rescue.

“A tourist,” Dimitri offered, after taking a look for himself.

“Yeah, probably,” Logan hedged. He opened a storage hatch and pulled out his Beretta. The Alpha and his beta exchanged an unspoken conversation at the sight of the weapon. “Just in case.”

“Here she comes. About fifty feet off. She’s gonna hit starboard,” Dimitri warned. He pulled open the back storage compartment and pulled out a couple of boat fenders. He handed one off to Logan and they tied them to the cleats to prevent damage.

“Hold on there. Girls, sit tight,” Logan told them as the boat approached. He fired up the engine and then unlocked the safety on the gun. The sailboat slowed as it approached, lightly bumping their speedboat.

The stranger looked to be in his early twenties. His preppy shirt was dotted in crimson stains. The woman on deck laid still, her face away from them.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, mister. The boom, it just snapped. Now my girlfriend’s hurt. I swear I’ve had a few lessons, but I can’t seem to figure out this radio,” he blabbered.

It was a good show, Logan thought. Still, something seemed off. He could hear the hum of the other boat’s engine. He sniffed. More than two scents filtered through the air, both vampire and human. Logan knew that although vampires could be extraordinarily dangerous at night, they were rendered virtually human during the daytime.

“We’d be happy to call it in. Anyone else on board?” Logan inquired.

“No sir, just me and my girl. Listen, she took a bad hit to the head. You wouldn’t happen to have a first aid kit? This boat’s a rental. I can’t find anything,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

Liar.
Logan tightened his grip on the gun.

“D, get on the radio and call it in,” he directed.

Never taking his eyes off the man, Logan looked at the woman splayed on the deck, using his peripheral vision. Dammit, she lay unmoving. He hated to leave someone in peril, especially in the middle of the lake, but he’d send another boat to investigate. His immediate concern was getting Wynter away from the stranger. The sailboats glided side by side so that the bows were even, and Logan wrapped his hand around the throttle. But before he had a chance to gun the boat, Fiona quickly stood up and jumped over to the other boat.

“Fiona,” Wynter cried, grasping into the air as she tried to pull her back. Wynter rushed to the side of the boat nearest to Fiona, extending her hand to her, hoping she’d jump back. “What are you doing? Get back here.”

Too late, Fiona had already gone to the woman. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to help her.”

Logan had been so focused on the man, he hadn’t had a chance to stop Fiona. What the hell did she think she was doing? Pack healer or not, she’d better get back on the damn boat. Both he and Dimitri tensed at the sight.

“Fi, back on the boat now,” Logan demanded, never taking his eyes off the stranger.

“But I can help her. She’s still breathing. It may just be a concussion.”

“Not a question. It’s an order. Get your ass back here now,” Logan growled.

Wynter observed the interaction, scrutinizing the slain woman. She swore that she wasn’t breathing. Her hands looked too pale…gray. What kind of healing did Fiona think she was doing? That woman was dead.

“Logan,” Wynter croaked into a gust of wind. Could he, too, see the woman was not alive? Confusion swept over her.

Logan could not understand why Fiona, a naturally submissive she-wolf, was defying his direct order. There was no time to contemplate her punishment. No, the only decision was to leave Fiona on the sailboat. He knew Dimitri wouldn’t be happy, but he needed to get Wynter to safety. Something wasn’t right.

Fiona busily fussed with the woman, flipping her over onto her back, blocking their view. It appeared she was attempting some kind of resuscitation.

“I need help,” Fiona said, ignoring Logan.

The stranger knelt next to Fiona as if to provide assistance, then yanked her upward toward him. He pulled a gun, aiming it at her head. Using her as a human shield, he kept her in between him and Logan.

“Let her go,” Logan demanded. He pointed his gun at him, but couldn’t get a clear shot off.

“No, I don’t think I will,” he laughed. “Do you know what a silver bullet can do to a wolf’s brain? Messy, messy. She may survive. Maybe not though.”

“It’s two against one, asshole, put the gun down,” Logan insisted. He sensed Dimitri behind him, who’d also aimed a gun.

The stranger continued to laugh. “You kill me, I kill the girl.” He pulled Fiona’s hair, making her scream. “Tell you what; I’ll make a trade. This girl for that one.” His eyes fell onto Wynter.

“Not happening,” Logan snarled.

Wynter began to crouch backwards. She’d gone too close to the other boat when she’d gone to retrieve Fiona.

“Don’t move, Wynter,” the stranger called out to her.

Wynter froze.
How did he know her name?
Oh God no, they really are here for me.

“I have sharpshooters on land,” Logan explained coolly. “You’ll never get away.”

As if Logan and Dimitri weren’t in the boat, the man continued to speak to Wynter. “You want to save your friend, doctor?”

“What?” Wynter gasped.

“I said; do you want to save your friend here? You know these wolves aren’t as tough as you’d think. Not so hard to kill them, really. With silver in her brain, it’ll take her months to recover. No, a shift won’t fix this so easily, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t listen to him, Wyn,” Logan yelled.

Wynter looked up at Fiona, whose cheeks and neck were streaked with tears. She couldn’t quite see her eyes because her head had been wrenched backward.

“What do you want from me?” Wynter screamed at him. It felt as if a black tunnel was closing in, she couldn’t escape. She couldn’t live with the blood of another wolf on her hands. It was her fault they’d come to Logan’s pack. Her responsibility. She should be the one to die, not Fiona.

“But you already know the answer to that, don’t you, Dr. Ryan? Shame to kill this she-wolf, but we will. In fact, we’ll take out this whole damn pack if we have to, but I guarantee you this, it will not end. You belong to him. He will not stop. I know he’ll take special pleasure in killing your Alpha. Don’t think we can’t get to him. We left him a note the other day…right at his door.”

Shocked, Wynter looked over to Logan. No, it couldn’t be true. Logan would have told her.

“Wynter, don’t listen to him,” Logan cautioned. Wynter’s face had gone white. “Get away from the side of the boat.”

The stranger laughed maniacally. “I see the great Alpha is keeping secrets from his mate. It’s true. The very night you shifted, we were at his house.”

“Logan?” Wynter questioned. When he didn’t answer right away, she knew it was true. They’d been at his home? Dear God, if they could get to her there, there’d be nowhere they couldn’t find her.

“Wynter, listen to me, now. It was just a note. No one was in the house. Fiona, she’ll be fine. She’s a strong wolf.”

“You lie, Alpha. Do you really think I’d bring a knife to a gunfight? These hollow-cavity bullets will mushroom her brain apart with one shot. She’s not going to make it back, not like she used to be anyway. And that’s if she manages to shift afterwards. No, this little girl’s goin’ to pop like fireworks.”

Wynter tried to drown out his words but it was no use. Her own guilt tore at her heart. Was she really going to sit and do nothing while this monster put a bullet in Fiona’s head? God, she loved Logan…so much. Reverting to her training, she considered the known facts, the data. True, Logan would be angry if she sacrificed herself for Fiona. But his boat was powerful, much more so than the small sailboat. Logan would follow, save her and Fiona, too, would be safe. The most important fact was that if she didn’t go, another Acadian wolf would die…at her hands.