Page 25 of Heartless Wolf (Wolf Moon Rejected #1)
CHAPTER 25 - DASH
Author’s note: this scene features crossover with Vengeful Mates . For those who have read this, I’ll keep the repetition to a minimum, while expressing the character’s points of view.
“What the fuck happened to your face?” Slade’s inevitable greeting. He sucked down a final inhale of his cigarette and put it out in the clay sand pot at the front door. His blond Mohican-style haircut flinted with the menace of the devil reputation he wore well.
Fuck me. The club’s big day was off to a great start. Bruised eye from the fight at the Lunar ceremony, and Liv just added a damn egg on the back of my head. Ached like a damn bitch. A distraction I really didn’t need right now.
Liv’s tears drenched the bond, and my end leaned towards running downstairs to comfort her. Damn woman pushed me too far this morning.
Before that went down, I was going to escort her back to the cell, and make sure she was comfortable in the cell with food, water, and blankets. Give her an iPad to watch Netflix… with protections set up for her to not access email or phone software. For now, she could deliberate on her behavior with the walls for company.
Last time I let my dick lead me. Desire to punish Liv, spank her until she surrendered, thrummed through my veins. Later. My mind had to be in the game and not on her. This was too important to fuck up.
I felt Steele’s eyes burn the back of my head with disapproval. Rank and duty demanded he wait for our guests to enter to greet them.
Coming back to Slade’s question, I had no choice but to play the obedient president-in-fucking-training, my smile turning into a show of teeth. “Got into a fight a few days ago.”
My boss’ dark blue eyes surveyed me, and the prickle of suspicion sparked the first drop of sweat on my nape. “Castor mentioned you had some trouble with a rival pack.” A president probing for problems and protecting his investment.
“Nothing we can’t handle.” Redirecting the conversation, I looked beyond my superior to his mate, Aaliyah, and Alaric, Bathurst’s road captain. “Hey, guys. Come in.”
Today’s focus was the shipment. After its completion, he could grill me more about our enemies.
“Hi, Dash.” Aaliyah gave me a wonky smile that spelled headache or stomach cramps. “Don’t mind me. I’m here to see off my mates and wish them a safe ride.”
Not like I could argue with my new boss or his old lady without growing a new set of teeth. “You’re always welcome.”
Rubbing her stomach, she didn’t look her usual radiant self. Bronze leached from her tanned skin. Luster was absent from her aqua eyes. Sour cherries tainted in her normally sweet scent tipped with vanilla. I held back a gag at her off scent. Hormones off the charts. Signs of morning sickness. No sign of a belly showing yet. Early days. Despite my urge to congratulate her, I kept the secret of her pregnancy to myself in case she and her mates hadn’t announced it yet.
The topic of mates and a pup made my wolf howl with despair at the potential of never having the fortune of this precious gift. I stuffed him into the recesses of my mind to hold my shit together.
Moving on to Alaric, I mustered a lame smile and threw out my hand. “Welcome back, Alaric. Thought you might be sick of seeing our mugs!” During the last month, he, Zethan, and Castor trained us in preparation for today, and we built up a good camaraderie with our new brothers.
Alaric gave me his model smile, straight from a magazine shoot, the vigilance in his grey and golden eye lightening temporarily. “Your handsome mug?” His hand shot out, rucked my hair, and shoved my shoulder. “Never.”
I laughed and play punched him, and Slade rumbled with amusement.
“New look?” Alaric’s knuckles glanced the fresh layer of stubble on my jaw.
Breakfast with Liv, the sexy as fuck shower, and eating her out afterward chewed up more time than I had, and I didn’t get around to shaving. I sorted her into the deal with later file in my mind before I got hard thinking about the bathroom.
“Like it?” I rubbed my jaw. “I’ve got coffee brewing.” I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder, eager to get the ride underway and forget the thump in my skull. “We can drink while we go over the plans.”
Slade barked out a laugh and thumped my shoulder, signaling for me to get a move on. “You know the way to my heart.”
Steele switched on his hidden charm and greeted our guests as I moved deeper into the clubhouse, seeking the coffee pot. My head throbbed, a dark reminder never to let my guard down around Liv. I rubbed at the swollen lump and cursed her under my breath. Woman tricked me good. Had me aroused out of my mind, and I didn’t see her attack coming. Crafty Alpha. I played right into her damn hands like an idiot.
I flicked my finger at Arden to carry the tray with coffee mugs into our Church room, and I followed with the coffee pot and cream, setting it at the head of the table beside Slade. In wolf culture, it was a sign of respect and honor to offer the Umbra the first selection—my presidential contemporary adopting the equivalent title in this case.
The rest of my team pushed through all the niceties with our Bathurst brothers and Aaliyah, poured coffees, offered biscuits and light snacks to last us until lunch, before we jumped into business. At the conclusion of our greetings and biker shit talking, Slade cleared his throat, hailing us to file into line according to rank and commence a last-minute run through of the plans.
Slade tapped the map sprawled along the church table, the furniture rocking from the shortened leg on the front right. “Run me through the plan.”
As head of the Jackals, he was versed in the plan but tested my men and me, a general searching for a chink in his armor. Didn’t blame the guy for having sharp instincts to protect his club and investment. Precisely what I would do in his place.
Trained by my father, my men and I were proficient in sealing weaknesses in our plan. Time to bring the goods and impress our new boss. I spent this last week reviewing everything until it fixed in my memory. This last month, my crew and I brainstormed every possible obstacle that might jeopardize the run, setting up mitigations to manage them. Finally, all of Father’s grueling education started to pay off for us.
Ryda ran through the mapped routes, procedures, emergency and escape plans. He and Alaric were instrumental in mapping out our route, alternative routes in the event of problems, and backup plans in case of crises.
Pressure mounted in the back of my skull, a combination of stress for our first real test, and the fucking present Liv lumped on me. Angst crept up my spine that we could pull this off without a hitch. Keep calm in the event of an emergency like police interference. Regroup and continue the operation. Find our way back to the club if split up. Stay silent if the cops arrested us.
Slade nodded, teeth cracking on a biscuit, and washing it down with black coffee. The sound felt like a hammer struck the back of my head, and I rubbed it. Steele’s fraught brows said I was up for another idiot lecture tonight. I got a partial one after locking up Liv again and dodged the rest by hauling ass into the shower.
Alaric’s gaze panned every member of my club, a scout probing for fear and doubt in the ranks that might present trouble. The shimmer of magick in my chest betrayed the scan he performed on me, and I felt him lock onto the secret in my chest. Damn Liv. A second bead of sweat trickled the path of the first, my nerves sparking as I soothed my head, gaining a big X target on me.
At the break in the presentation, Alaric jumped in with, “Something wrong with your head, Dash?” Damn road captain was more observant than Slade.
“It’s nothing. Hit my head yesterday. Just a bit tender.” Pain rode me hard as I waved at Ryda to continue, concerned that Slade might pull the whole ride if I was injured and off my game.
Slade nudged Aaliyah’s hip. “Sugar, take a look will you? My men need to be one hundred percent.”
Aaliyah performed the healing magick of her Egyptian goddess, Isis. Slade and Alaric’s mate absently stroked her stomach, face going paler by the moment. Queasiness. Not hard to pick up from her scent. Every one of my men’s gazes flicked to her, drawing Alaric’s wary attention.
“Sugar?” Slade squeezed her shoulder, jostling her from her preoccupied mind. “Can you examine Dash’s head?”
Tension flared in Steele’s eyes, muscles bunching in his neck. The bond pricked with the same strain. Worry over potential questions raised how I came to the injury. Where those answers lead to.
“Sure.” Aaliyah moved to my side and lifted her hands, the crackle of magick scanning for injury. “There’s a bit of concussion here. I wouldn’t let you on a bike like this.”
Slade’s eyebrows lifted to his hairline.
Steele’s agitated beard strokes doubled.
Apprehension slid under my skin. Fuck. Slade was going to pull the plug. All this work for nothing.
Healing power tingled over the back of my head, soothing the ache, which lessened by the second. My breath stopped and didn’t restart until I felt the lump shrink, the solidity in my joints, and the slight nausea from the iron ebb, concluding her job. Fuck me. Never been healed by a goddess’ magick before.
“You’re lucky we checked this.” Slade smiled at his missus’ use of we . Teamwork. The word struck like a knife between the ribs. Fuck, Liv and I were a bad team, and I was to blame. My actions created a bigger chasm between us that I wasn’t sure groveling would fix.
Steele cut me with a glare as though he wanted to deck me. Join the fucking queue. Liv already got me, and had more in store. Father was second in line. TJ third. Steele in last place, and probably not the final one if I pushed this shit with Liv any further.
“Thanks, sugar.” Slade welcomed her back into his arms with a hug, pulling her tightly to his side, showing everybody she was his.
Fuck, I was lucky she didn’t mention anything about the iron symptoms. Or maybe she didn’t detect them.
She gave a fragile smile. The healing took it out of her, and by the paleness of her complexion, she needed a seat.
I went to ask her if she wanted one when Slade got in first with, “Do we all understand our roles and responsibilities?” He stared us down like a general striving for a “ Yes, sir ,” which my men and I gave him.
A third drop of sweat tracked down my neck, soaking into my shirt under my cut. My crew knew their shit and would perform their duties to the letter. A change in circumstances was what bothered me. Nosey cops. Malice pack interference. Other shit going wrong. All of it wetted my collar with more sweat.
Slade made us run through the route another three times until his mouth curled into a small smile, telling me we hit win one. Now to get through the run without snags. After the bullshit with my father, the Lunar ceremony, and Liv, I was at my fucking limit for more problems.
Fuck. Liv. I felt like an asshole for leaving things the way I did. On a tight time crunch, I doubted I’d get a moment to check on her before we left. Tonight, we’d talk. Argue. Yell. Clear the air. I needed her as an ally.
Tomorrow… the rest of my damn life… I was going to be on my knees, groveling to my mate for forgiveness, armed with a huge bunch of red roses and chocolate. If she couldn’t forgive me that, then I prayed for her understanding.
A call on my cell cut loose any thought of her and I freed my phone from my vest to answer it. “Baked bread is delivered,” one of my men reported.
Fuck, yes. Code for the street drag race we set up was about to commence. Right on time, too. My pack operated on precision, efficiency, and target. Distraction number one to divert the cops. I let my calm and sure mask settle over me, holding my breath, waiting for the call.
“Excellent work.” Slade clapped me on the back, adding to the strain in my skull and neck, pumping out a fourth bead of damn sweat. “Run me through the return journey.”
Another military-style practice. Recount the mission and ensure every member knew their part. Prepare for flaws and countermeasures to address them. Complete the mission at all costs.
I reeled off the steps, triggering a pleased smile from Slade, his hand drifting from side to side on Aaliyah’s stomach.
The souring of her scent and her queasy expression blinked like a neon sign to run for the bathroom. I held my tongue. Slade’s old lady wasn’t my business. MC etiquette. And he seemed preoccupied with club matters than his woman’s comfort.
A second call interrupted my recall of the plan. “Yeah?” I answered, picking at the threads of my torn jeans, scrubbing the sweat from my neck, and easing the ache in my back.
“Ice cream cone’s broken.” Code for the two staged car accidents on the highway provided additional distractions for the cops to manage. Thank fuck our steps were executed according to plan. I let out my breath in a long gush.
I tapped my phone against my thigh and went on with the plan. “We store the delivery truck at my dad’s junkyard, switch the license plates back, listen to the cops’ radio channels for reports, and reassess from there.”
Slade barked out a laugh and slapped my shoulder. “You’ve got a handle on this.” He tugged out his rolling paper and tobacco, winding it into a cigarette prior to departure in 025 mins.
I risked a look at Steele, who crossed his arms, eyes burning with displeasure and disappointment over the incident with Liv. Fuck. I was gonna pay for that on more than one front.
Slade exhaled his smoke, the haze shaping into a gun ejecting a bullet. Damn. What I wouldn’t give for an ounce of magick. “Alaric and I will accompany you, me as a rear rider, Alaric as scout up in the air.”
Having my boss tag along for the ride, there to witness any fuck-ups, had the sweat dripping thicker, me on edge, and my gut hard as stone and aching like I hadn’t taken a dump in a week. I wiped any trace of unease from my face and flashed my best cocky smile to show I had this when I was a fucking nervous wreck inside.
“Got it.” My throat tensed, reflected in my voice. Nerves spluttered, both excited and agitated to get our first run under our belts, celebrate and kick back with drinks. Then get my ass roasted with Liv later tonight. Again, by Steele in the morning.
Aaliyah’s hand flew to her mouth, and she gagged. She rushed from the room, followed shortly after by Alaric, and I knew she and the toilet bowl had a date.
Slade rumbled with concern, then got back to the mission. He finished off his coffee and smoke, giving off the impression he was pleased. He went around to each man, leaving me for last, shaking our hands, clapping us on the shoulders, reinforcing how proud he was to have us as brothers. Edginess kicked up at his declaration. Performance anxiety. Self-sabotage in the form of my father’s expectation for me to fail. The burden on my shoulders for this to triumph. Dread of the next step if it flopped.
Steele thumped a hand on my shoulder, snapping me from my dark thoughts. “You good?” He shoved a mug of creamed coffee my way.
I appreciated the check-in, and the reassurance he had my back and ass.
“Holding it together.” The twitch in my leg and sweat on my back said otherwise. I rubbed my eyebrow with my thumb.
Too much rode on today. The club’s future and Pack Lumbry’s debt relief. The heat of what lay ahead of me got to me. Slade promised fat bonuses for a successful delivery today, and we banked on it, unable to afford mistakes or the past coming back to haunt us.
Minutes later, Aaliyah returned to the room, clasping Slade’s elbow to get his attention. “You need to come see this.”
See what? My hackles flared to life.
Slade stroked her shoulder. “Can’t it wait until after the ride, sugar?”
“No, it can’t.” Aaliyah’s eyes landed on me, darkening with disgust and my gut cramped. “They’ve got a captive in the basement.”
My stomach bottomed out. How the fuck did they find Liv? Cold irritation burned in my chest. Those two fuckers must have gone snooping.
Slade looked like he chewed glass. “Where is she?”
Ryda cursed under his breath and scrubbed his eyes. Beau and Arden glanced between the lot of us. Steele looked set to murder me if I screwed our one chance up.
The president, Aaliyah, Steele, and I all filed in a line down to the basement, my legs numb. Heat roasted my body, dialing up the sweat, and I lingered close to passing out. Slade studied Liv’s bruised face, the temperature scaling another hundred degrees, the air thickening with smoke and the smell of ash as Slade’s power charged. This was the temper of a god that I feared to ignite.