Page 13 of Memphis Heat

Regan’s orgasm overtook her with the force of a tidal wave.

She screamed as she rode the waves higher and higher, trusting Butch to catch her.

His own hoarse cry filled the room as he found his release deep inside her, and she wrapped her arms and legs tightly around him, needing to keep every drop of his seed inside her.

She wanted his scent, his brand on her. Needed it. Craved it.

“Mine!” they cried out, together.

When the sensations died down and both of them were breathing hard, Butch rolled them over, slipping out of her with ease this time.

Regan couldn’t help but be a little disappointed at that.

She rather liked the intimacy of knowing they were tied together for a while.

Apparently if they didn’t shift, they didn’t knot. Worth remembering.

Unashamedly, she clung to him, loving his body wrapped around hers. To her surprise, he seemed as reluctant to let her go as she was to let him go. He smiled down at her, smoothing the hair out of her face. “So, we’ve established you’re not letting my ex-wife have me back. What do we do now?”

She laughed, though she really wanted to swat him one for that, especially when he showed her that lopsided grin. “We’ve also decided I’d fuck you until you couldn’t remember why we shouldn’t be fucking.”

“Yeah, I seem to remember something about that. Kinda fuzzy though.”

She did punch him then before sighing and sobering, looking him in the eyes. She was sure he’d had the same thoughts she’d had. “Now, we find out who’s turning good cops into werewolves, and put a stop to it.”

“And kick some major ass,” he agreed.

But first they had to find a way out of this hospital. Or whatever it was.

* * *

“Where the hell have you two been?” The lieutenant didn’t look all that pleased to see them.

“We called in,” Butch offered off-handedly.

And he had, as soon as they’d escaped. Though mostly to see if they still had jobs.

He gave a ragged cough. “Must have picked something up working the south side.” No use trying to explain they’d been bitten by werewolves and locked up in some abandoned industrial park med facility. They’d end up in the local psych ward.

“Well, the colonel wants to see you. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” Damn, it was going to be hard not biting any of his co-workers.

Looking worried, Regan hurried along at his side, almost running to keep up. “How much trouble do you think we’re in?”

He’d been wondering the same thing himself. “Well, we left a patrol car in the middle of the street, and we’re missing our guns and badges, so I’m thinking they think we walked off the job.”

“Damn, I wish I could remember what happened.”

“You and me both.” He’d give three months’ extra alimony to fill in those missing hours.

“But it won’t do any good overthinking it.

Just answer his questions, and stick as close to the truth as you can.

” Without, you know, mentioning the part about werewolves.

Or fucking each other senseless . He smiled at that part.

They’d definitely have to do that again sometime real soon.

Butch raised his hand to knock on the colonel’s door, but it swung open before he could get to it.

Snorrasan, a big Swede Butch had seen leaving the colonel’s office more than once in the past, brushed by them, his un-handsome face marred by a vicious snarl as he recognized them and turned to go back in.

Regan squashed herself against Butch’s side, either to take up less space, or seeking his protection.

Butch bristled, snarling back at the big blond. No one threatened his mate.

“Carson! O’Malley! Get in here.”

Butch shouldered through the door, holding it open for Regan, who was less than a step behind him.

“Close the Goddamn door and sit down.”

Butch nearly slammed the door shut, whirling to face the colonel, his lips pulling back to bare his teeth.

But what he saw when he looked up made him freeze in his tracks.

The colonel’s snarling orders came from a face that was more wolf than man.

Half wolf, and all Alpha. Butch was more than a little Alpha himself, but he recognized the authority in this man’s bearing.

This was his colonel, a man he’d always respected, and alpha to his alpha.

“Sit. Down!”

They sat. Flanked by two other teams, men they barely knew, all of whom shared their slightly deer in the headlights look.

The colonel came to stand in front of his desk, leaning back against it as if he were about to give a speech he’d rather not.

“Let me spare all of you the excuses I’m sure you’ve come up with by now.

You’re not losing your minds, and you’re not here because you’re under investigation.

All of you are here for the same reason.

You’re werewolves. You didn’t ask for this, but it’s not something that can be undone.

Carson, O’Malley, sorry you had to let yourselves out when you came around.

Our med team’s been kinda overwhelmed. Like it or not, you’re now members of Memphis’s finest. Welcome to the Fraternal Order of Police, Memphis Pack. ”

Snorrasan passed out guns and badges -- their own -- as if to do so were routine. Butch noticed his had been wiped clean, but not all that well. There was still more than a trace of blood on the back side, against the leather.

“You will get along, and you will learn to work together, because I said so.” The colonel leveled his icy stare at each of them in turn.

“And because we have a far larger problem on our hands. Someone is doing their best to kill off Memphis cops.” He let that message sink in before he continued.

“The only reason all of you are alive is because of this man right here. Lt. Snorrasan’s team found each of you moments after you’d been attacked.

There are only two things you can do with a dead cop.

Bury him, or make him a werewolf. Hard on the teeth, but it beats the hell out of the alternatives. ”

“Sir?” Butch shook his head, trying to wrap his brain around the sudden onslaught of information. “You turned us?”

“The cops who found you did. If they hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

Cops. Plural. More than one . “So… there are more of us? More werewolf cops?”

“Memphis PD’s had a paranormal division since shortly after our founding in 1827.

In more recent years we’ve worked closely with the K-9 units.

But never before have we been faced with a criminal element that’s intentionally hunting down cops in our precinct.

The last thing we want to do is turn our fellow officers.

But we can and we will, if it means not letting good men die.

What I need from you, gentlemen, is your help finding the men who attacked you.

We don’t believe they were acting on their own.

We want to know who sent them, and why. And then we’re going to make sure this doesn’t happen to any more members of this precinct. ”

* * *

“For the record,” Butch muttered to anyone who happened to be listening, “this is a very bad idea.”

“Why didn’t you say so before?”

That had to be Callahan. The man had more muscle and courage than good sense, but Butch had liked him the moment he’d met him.

If he had to go into battle with a questionable outcome, he wanted Callahan at his side.

“I did say so before. For some reason, no one ever listens to me. I don’t understand it. ”

“Could be because you never let us forget when you are right,” Callahan answered.

“Or because you bring it up at every opportunity.” That was Reginald.

“And then we have Sundance over there backing you up.” Their little pack rounded out with Smith, the prankster of the group. “Which is more than a bit sickening. Touching, but sickening. You two should get a room and be done with it.”

“Already did.” Regan head-slapped Smith before peering through the field glasses again at the alley where two “bad guys” had set up their trap and waited for an unsuspecting team. “Sorry you missed it. Was fun.”

The two volunteers, Black and White -- really, those were their names -- checked their weapons and tracking devices before moving into position. If the pair was nervous, neither gave any outward sign. Butch had never seen anyone so cool.

“Be ready,” he warned when the pair made it to the alley entrance, using the prearranged signal to let the others know they were ready to proceed.

“We want to intercept the wolf pack before they try to kill our guys, and take as many prisoners as we can. It would be nice to question at least one of the bastards.”

“You think?” OK, that was Regan. Butch glanced sharply at her, but she kept the field glasses glued to her eyes, not looking at him.

He didn’t miss the twitch of her lips though.

Or the snickers of the others. He’d definitely lost some of the fear the others had for him.

Might be time to do something about that.

“Look alive. Bogey coming in above the alley. North fire escape.” Just like that, Regan was all business again.

“Snorrasan and his men are waiting. We’ll have backup, right?” That was Callahan.

“That’s the plan,” Butch affirmed. “Move!” Butch hissed, taking the lead himself.

The team circled the alley, coming in from the front as well as above, following said bad guys.

Butch had to hand it to the villains. They’d planned the attack well.

Only problem with the tactic was they used it every single time. Which bothered him…

Then he was loping into the alley behind Black and White just as the wolves sprang their trap.

Four other wolves were already waiting in the alley, something that had never happened before.

Not only that, but those wolves ignored the two decoys altogether and went for the teams converging on them from above and to the southwest.

One launched himself at the fire escape on the south side of the building where Callahan dropped on top of him.

Another came straight at Smith, who took a hard hit before firing several times at the beast. Before Butch could confirm Regan’s position, two of the big beasts attacked him, knocking him to the ground.

Pain seared his left shoulder even as he pulled the trigger on his SIG P229, firing repeatedly into the thing’s gut.

The second wolf was on top of him even before the first one stopped moving, going for his exposed throat.

Before the massive jaws of the werewolf could close over him, however, its head disintegrated in an explosion of fur and blood.

Regan stood over him, gun tracking the alley, firing at the beasts as they darted from area to area.

As Butch got to his feet, he noted several of her bullets hit their mark, but the things kept coming.

Christ! Where the fuck was Snorrasan? “There’s no taking prisoners,” he shouted over the gunfire. “Shoot to kill! Shoot to kill!”

Immediately, the others changed tactics, opting for head shots rather than winging or even gutting the wolves in their sights.

Several more of the things sprang down from the rooftops.

In the melee, Butch lost sight of the two volunteers.

Fuck! This was such a cluster fuck! “Pull back! Everyone get out. Back out of the alley!”

Snorrasan chose that moment to arrive with his own wolf pack. Butch ground his teeth in frustration. Snorrasan was supposed to have been waiting for the attack! He’d insisted on radio silence, so Butch and the others had no way of knowing if they were delayed, which, apparently, was the case.

The second the more experienced pack arrived, the bad guys turned tail and ran. Like flicking a switch, they simply scampered away, not bothering with their prey anymore. Not that it mattered. Both Black and White lay in growing pools of blood.

“Call a fucking ambulance!” Callahan yelled, yanking his shirt over his head to stem the flow of blood coming from Black’s neck. The young woman’s eyes locked onto Callahan’s in a silent plea. Callahan gritted his teeth and pressed harder, not taking his gaze from hers.

“I’ll take it from here, Callahan.” Snorrasan bared his arm, and, with a flick of a claw, poured his own blood down Black’s throat.

His pack mates crowded around, whisking the wounded away.

Callahan never left Black’s side while two of Snorrasan’s wolves moved White to another truck, and both vehicles sped off into the night.

“Does anyone want to tell me what the fuck just happened?” Butch was seething.

Every instinct he had screamed at him, warning him there was a traitor among them.

Their plan had been known only by their team, Snorrasan and his men, and the colonel.

Someone inside their pack had tipped off the rival werewolves they were coming.

It was the only explanation that made sense.

Why else would they deviate from the path they had followed every single time in the past?

There were never any more than three werewolves attacking one pair of cops.

Butch had questioned it, but that was why they’d brought the whole team in on it to begin with. Just in case.

Well, just in case hadn’t been enough. Not by a long shot.

“Head back to base,” Regan said, touching Butch’s shoulder gently. “We’ll sort it out there. The pack’s gone. There’s no following them at this point. I can’t even smell them.”

“Go to the bunker.” That was the colonel. Butch should have expected him. “We’ll all meet you there.”

Fuck. Why did the hair stand up on the back of his neck at those words?