Wolf Fever (29 page)

If Carol hadn't been worried about how they might all become just like him, stuck forever as wolves with human brains, she would have admired his ability to guide them in the right direction. Even more, she worried that she might not be able to find the cure.

She took a deep breath, tried to give up thoughts of failure, and considered another situation that concerned her—bringing were-kids into the world, where they had
to live in secret. She didn't think she could cope with taking care of them, not when she hadn't been raised as one. She thought about her mother's comment that she should talk with Ryan about children before they were married, or in this case, mated. Better late than never.

“I don't want children,” she blurted before she thought better of it. Now really wasn't the time to discuss this.

Ryan's hands tightened a little on the steering wheel as he continued to watch the road. “It's a little late to consider that now.” He didn't sound mad, just a little concerned.

“I'm on birth control.” She hadn't needed it for a long time, but she always wanted to be prepared—just in case. At least she'd been careful and not reckless.

She couldn't read his expression at first, but his pause made her think he wasn't happy with the idea.

“Pills?” he asked.

“Yep. Not that I've needed them, but…” She shrugged.

“Doc give them to you?”

She didn't like the way he asked, as if he was investigating one of his cases. She folded her arms. “No. I had enough of a supply before he came to work here.”

“So… no one told you they won't work for us.”

She stared at him in disbelief.

“They don't work for all women,” he said.

She knew that from personal experience because a friend of hers had gotten pregnant while on the pill—but at least her friend had been married. Her friend's sister also had gotten pregnant on the pill, only she was in love with the guy, not married. The day she learned she was pregnant, she also discovered her lover had a wife
and two daughters.
Bastard.
And he had no intention of leaving his wife, because her dad was a rich man and would have ruined him.

“Yeah, I know,” she said, annoyed.

“Well, our women are like that. We normally don't use birth control. Like humans, some of us can have children without any problem. Others never do. But as with any pack mentality, procreation of our species is important and most of us want children. As a pack leader, it's essential. Are you afraid they'll have your psychic talents? And be ostracized?”

She frowned at him. “I hadn't thought of that.”

“Oh.” He sounded like he regretted mentioning it. “Then what?”

“How in the world can I teach my own were-children anything about growing up werewolf when I never did?”

He smiled. “You'll learn, and that's what a pack is for. All pack members care for each other's kids.”

She sighed. “A mother is supposed to know these things and be in charge. I'll be like the child.”

He chuckled. “Not on your life. You'll be fine. Unless…” He glanced at her. “…you want to abstain from sex.”

“Like that's really an option.” No way was she abstaining from anything of the kind with Ryan.

“Other forms of birth control work reasonably well.”

She leaned against him. “It's not that I don't want kids. I always planned to have a couple. It's just this… were-issue.” She guessed this was one more aspect she wouldn't have any control over. At least her mother would be happy.
If
she never learned what Carol's children's secrets were.

The tension left Ryan's body, and he wrapped his arm around her. “If we're meant to have children, we will. If not, so be it. But you'll be the best mother a litter can have, Carol. Don't you worry.”

She smiled, thinking of raising more McKinleys and attending the Scottish games, just like having their own little clan.

The thought of having a couple of sons who would help their dad in a game of tug-of-war, or a couple of daughters who danced to the Celtic tunes and captured the boys' attention, made her forget for the moment the potential danger that lay ahead.

About an hour and a half from Darien's home, Doc Mitchell began to pace in the backseat, make little woofing sounds, and growl. Her thoughts quickly shifted to the peril they could all be in.

“Must be close,” Carol warned, feeling Ryan's whole body tense. She was fairly certain that another wolf fight would ensue. These guys never seemed to resolve anything between them in a nice, conversational way. She tried to relax and not be uptight, but as soon as Ryan drove toward a single-family dwelling surrounded by woods, the tension returned to every muscle, and she prayed she wouldn't shift again.

“I
WISH YOU HADN'T COME,”
R
YAN SAID
. H
E KISSED
the side of her temple as they drove down the dirt road, closing in on what they thought was the location of the lab. His hand held hers as if he never wanted to let go.

“I know. You want to keep me safe.” She tried to force her voice to remain even and not sound like she was having second thoughts. She wasn't a warrior at heart. But she had the courage to overcome her failings when the circumstances warranted it. And these definitely did. She certainly didn't want Ryan to think he'd made a mistake in bringing her.

Ryan drove down the bumpy, rutted road where tree limbs stretched into the lane, scraping the sides of the truck. He grumbled something under his breath about needing a new paint job after this operation. She figured his edginess probably had more to do with her being with him on one of his more dangerous investigative missions than with the paint job on his truck, especially the way he kept a tight grip on her fingers.

She couldn't complain. It felt good to have a man care about her the way he did. She was ready to move to Green Valley and start a life with him there.

When they came into a small clearing, she saw the house more clearly. It had three rooms, if that, with tall grass brushing against the bottom frames of the windows. Blue paint was peeling off the exterior
clapboards, while the weathered shutters bordering the windows were missing slats. A rickety fireplace made of rough stone stuck to one side of the house with a couple of the corner stones missing. The house looked abandoned, except for the smoke trickling out of the chimney. Movement in one of the three windows caught Carol's eye.

“Someone's home,” Ryan said glumly.

“How will you get in?” Carol asked.

“Most
lupus garous
carry lock picks.”

She raised her brows in question.

He shrugged. “If we're in a city and have an uncontrollable urge to shift, finding an unoccupied house could be our only salvation. Lock picks are preferable to breaking windows.”

She stared at him in disbelief. She hadn't thought of being in a city without a place to hide in the event of shifting. She could just envision herself in that dilemma. What a disaster.

“No one gave
me
a set.”

He patted her thigh. “No one's letting you out of their sight, either.”

She sighed, realizing just how good she had it living in a werewolf-run town. How would it be for her living with Ryan in Green Valley where humans ran the place for the most part?

Ryan pulled up to the front porch, breaking into her mounting concern. He turned off the truck, saying at the same time, “Stay here until we secure the place. Lock the doors. Doc, you want to stay and guard Carol?” He posed the comment as a question, but the intonation was more of a command.

Doc Mitchell gave a little woof. She took it as a yes. But she wanted Ryan and the others to have the doc's added protection since they were facing unknown perils.

“Take him with you,” Carol said. “He can help.”

Ryan shook his head, his gaze studying her in a worried way. “He stays with you.”

He leaned over and gave her a meaningful kiss that briefly chased away the chill in her bones. He squeezed her hand one last time. He let out his breath in a sigh of resignation and climbed out of the truck. Then he let out Doc Mitchell, who raced around to sit in wolf-guarding mode next to Carol's door.

She watched Ryan, her stomach bunched in tight knots, her skin icy with trepidation, praying that he wouldn't get himself killed.

Tom pulled up next to her passenger door, and he and Sam hurried out of the truck to join Ryan. Tom tilted his chin down, also giving Carol the silent order to stay put. They didn't have to tell her that she most likely would cause more problems if she entered the house before they checked it out. She folded her arms and glowered at Tom. His mouth lifted slightly, and he gave her a short nod.

Then he turned, and Ryan, Sam, and Tom stalked toward the house, backs straight, postures determined, like the Three Musketeers, except without the plumed hats and sharp steel swords. And that gave Carol another shiver of worry.

She barely breathed as Tom used his lock-picking tools to unlock the front door. Doc Mitchell's ears twitched with alertness, his body stiff with tension, making her more concerned that the three men were headed into danger.

When the front door opened. Ryan rushed in first, while Tom and Sam followed. The door remained wide open, and Doc Mitchell stood, his attention focused on the doorway, his hackles raised. Every hair on Doc's body stood on end, making him appear bigger and more ferocious.

Snarling erupted inside the house, and Doc Mitchell growled softly in response, his ears positioned to hear the sounds inside.

Carol's muscles were so tense that her leg cramped. She was pressing her foot against the truck's floorboard to work out the painful kink when Doc Mitchell started forward. Maybe he just wanted to assist Ryan and the others. Or maybe he was anxious to see what the others had found.

She wanted him to join the others in case they needed his help. She thought she'd be safe enough in the vehicle. Yet the idea she'd be alone without any kind of protection made her spine stiffen with dread.

The way he stood, muscles taut, wired to the max, Doc Mitchell seemed ready to bolt. Then, as if he'd remembered his duty, he glanced back at Carol.

For a long moment, their gazes held. His amber eyes asked her a wealth of questions. Did she want him to stay? Did she want him to watch the men's backs? What did she want him to do?

“Go,” she said, motioning toward the house with tears in her eyes. She'd never forgive herself if anything bad happened to Ryan, Tom, or Sam and she'd denied Doc Mitchell the chance to help.

Doc hesitated, his head riveting back on the house.

She again said, “Go. Help them! I'll be all right.”

He looked at her again, bowed his head, turned, and dashed around the back side of the place.

Her mouth gaped. Why hadn't he gone inside? The doorway still stood wide open, as if daring her to come inside. She took a deep, unsettling breath and prayed the men would all be okay. That whoever was inside wouldn't attack them. That they would find a vaccine.

Ryan had barely entered the old, rickety house, its wooden floors creaking as they walked inside, when he heard low growls coming from a hallway past the living room. The place smelled of mold and dust. In the main living room, where faded floral wallpaper peeled off the walls in sheets, three sofas with sagging cushions were covered with wolf fur and reeked with the odor of wet wolves. A little wolf bark emanated from a room with a closed door off to the right of the living room.

Tom motioned to the room, wanting to check it out. Dealing with a she-wolf and her pups could be a dangerous proposition, especially while the three of them were all in human form. The wolf could easily tear into them. But more of the pack might be hiding in the room, too. Ryan agreed with Tom and gave him the go-ahead.

They walked down the short hall, and when they reached the room, Tom turned the doorknob. Locked. Sam watched their backs while Tom used his lock pick on the door. The lock clicked open. He glanced at Ryan, waiting for his approval. Ryan nodded.

Tom turned the handle slowly and it moved with a rusty, grinding squeak.

A low growl came from the other side of the door. An adult female growl.

As humans, Ryan and the others had no chance against a wolf's teeth. If it was a she-wolf and her pups, he had no intention of shooting her. But he couldn't risk Tom's life if the female attacked, or if others were in the room that might.

“Shift first,” Ryan whispered to Tom.

Tom's mouth gaped.

“If she attacks, you can pin her down. I'll do the talking.”

Tom agreed and quickly stripped out of his clothes. After shifting, he butted the door open with his nose before Ryan could push it aside, and stood in the entryway. Ryan was at Tom's side, gun in hand, to deliver the message that he'd shoot if anyone attacked, but only if he had no other choice.

A mother wolf stood with three little ones trying to reach her teats for supper. Another female growled low as she stood nearby in a protective stance, her belly bulging with pups. She was due to birth her own litter soon.

Ryan holstered his gun. “We're not here to hurt anyone.”

The nursing mother sat, the tension draining from her, and her pups scrambled over each other, vying for a meal. The other mother remained standing, wary and protective. As a gray male wolf, Tom was still a threat to a couple of red females.

“Can you shift back?” Ryan asked the females. The nursing mother shook her head. Just as Ryan had suspected. That meant either they had shifted after they locked the door, or someone had locked them in.

“We've got movement in another room,” Sam warned.

“We'll be back for you,” Ryan said. He motioned for
Tom to come with him. Once he was out of the room, Ryan shut the door so that the females couldn't try to rescue their mates if a confrontation resulted.

Ryan, Tom, and Sam went through the living area and then a kitchen. Surprisingly, the kitchen was spotless, although coffee and tea stained much of the counter near a teakettle, and part of the backdrop was coming unglued. But the fragrance of orange cleanser wafted in the air; the counters were clean with no dishes; and the porcelain sink sparkled. He wondered if the females had recently shifted.

Another short hall led to two more rooms. The door was unlocked and yielded to show a bedroom furnished with a queen-sized bed that was richly cloaked in a velvet comforter and velvet decorator pillows, all dark brown. The walls were freshly painted, and the place appeared to be under renovation. No pictures hung on the walls, and new carpet covered the floor.

A red male had slept here, but Ryan didn't detect any scent he'd smelled before.

They moved to the next door and found it locked. Ryan pulled out his set of lock picks, as Sam said in a hushed voice, “I smell the reds here who have been causing all the trouble.”

Ryan nodded. Then as the door lock clicked open, he hesitated.

He envisioned North or his men holding guns on him and firing as soon as he opened the door. Or standing as wolves, ready to lunge and rip their throats out. This was their territory, and Ryan, Sam, and Tom were the intruders, no matter how they justified being here.

“We'll work with you to cure this curse you cast upon
all of us,” Ryan said, his voice softly threatening,
play the game or die
, “and you can live. Your females and your pups need to live with a pack. One that offers more than what you have here—filth and no protection. Hell, the place ought to be condemned. But more than that, if you want to be human again…” Ryan let them draw their own conclusions.

“This isn't where we normally live!” a male shouted from inside the room, his voice angry but shaky, too.

Ryan suspected he was holding a gun.

“I'm armed. And I know how to use the gun,” Ryan warned, in case this was the guy who'd shot him, via a ricocheted bullet off a tree.

Silence.

“Give it up, and you'll live. Right now, you don't have any other alternative. Do you?”

A low growl emitted from the room. Either the man had shifted, or…

“Hell, North. He's right. Your cousin's most likely dead. My sister's ready to have her kids any minute. Sascha and her pups need to be in a thriving pack with decent leadership. No offense, but this isn't the life any of us would have chosen,” the man in the room said.

“North, we need to know where the lab is,” Ryan said. “We'll find a vaccine, develop an antidote, and take care of your people. If Lelandi's uncle is agreeable, you can join his red pack south of here.”

Another low growl. North wasn't going for it.

“Hell, North, that weasel of a scientist, Miller, is holding all of us hostage with this virus,” the man in the room said. “Once he learns of our bank account holdings, he'll clean us all out. You know he will.”

Ryan waited. Sam looked like he was done waiting, his fists and teeth clenched. “Want me to shift?” he asked.

Tom's ears were perked, his tail straight out, his posture showing his eagerness to enter the room and take care of business.

“Agreed, North?” Ryan asked. “Connor is dead. Darien was protecting his mate. Either you help us to help you, or you clear out of the area for good and figure it out for yourselves while we find the solution for our people.”

“Come on, North. I can't hold out much longer without shifting. Maybe through the night. Maybe not that long. Then I'll shift, and all that's left of us is my brother, Galahad,” the man said. “Who knows how long he'll last.”

Ryan didn't wait any further. “Sam, call Jake, with the location, the number of wolves, who's left in the pack—”