Page 21 of Memphis Heat

Chapter Four

The guys who’d set up this compound had been real security freaks.

The whole place was surrounded by a twelve-foot-high chain-link fence, with a secure front entrance.

The place was so secluded, it was nearly impossible to find, even if you knew what you were looking for.

They had enough uniformed guards in place, stationed at all the watch posts, to look like a real military compound.

Carson had rigged an early warning system on the only road in -- if you could even call it a road -- which gave them enough time to man the gates with extra armed guards.

Two big box trucks ground up the hill with an obvious effort, one of them tipping dangerously when the lead driver tried to pull up out of the grooved pits in the mud and climb the bank onto more solid tracks.

The spring rains hadn’t done that road any favors, and they hadn’t had time to have a fresh load of gravel hauled in.

Callahan knew his crew looked like just what they were -- an ambush waiting to happen.

He sure wouldn’t have been in any hurry to try to run a frontal assault on the place.

He moved into position at the main gate while Carson and his team took the hangar.

Seemed they’d inherited a small cargo plane and a short runway along with the warehouse space to hold as much ammunition as they could manage to acquire.

And thanks to Miller’s federal funding, they had the cash to do just that.

“Open the walk thru,” Callahan ordered. Gears whined and the smaller gate slid open. Two of his men, fully armed and wearing standard combat body armor, accompanied him to meet the truck.

The trucks were solid body, far shorter than semis, the sides painted and stenciled U.S.

Army . Callahan didn’t even want to ask where they’d come from.

He just hoped the Army didn’t show up asking for them back any time soon.

The driver of the lead vehicle rolled down the window and extended his clipboard, paperwork at the ready.

It was all Callahan could do to maintain a poker face when the lead driver rolled down the window. It was Jarod. Evidently he and Belle had successfully infiltrated the arms dealers’ ring. Must have done a damn good job to be trusted with a major delivery like this on his own.

Instant recognition flashed between them. Jarod bared his teeth at Callahan, a warning not to blow his cover.

“You’re late,” Callahan bit out. Thank God the pair were both still alive.

“Yeah, well, bite me. Fucking road looks like it was designed by pups with a backpack full of pipe bombs. Near broke my fucking axle.”

“It’s spring. It rains in the spring. We try not to attract unwanted attention by doing things like ordering truckloads of gravel shipped in, or having fucking military convoys shooting their asses up our fucking road.”

Jarod shrugged, his ill humor not even partially concealed. “They’re military surplus, like the rest of your sorry asses. You want this crap or not? Open the Goddamned gates.”

Callahan jerked his head at the gate crew. “Let ‘em in. But keep ‘em covered.”

The gates ground open, the whine offending Callahan’s sensitive wolf ears. Jarod grimaced, but it was Belle who fired off the smartass comments this time. “Jesus, you friggin’ cheapskates. Spring for a can of WD-40 why don’t you?”

Callahan shrugged. “Like I said. It’s fucking spring . Let’s get this shit unloaded before it rains. Again.” He rubbed his back regretfully. “I’m not getting any younger.”

“Yeah, yeah, where to?”

“Try aiming in the general direction of that hangar. It’s kinda hard to miss.” Callahan resisted the urge to snarl. “Morons,” he muttered under his breath.

Jarod gunned the throttle, like he had every intention of smashing the truck head first through the door.

After hours of bouncing his ass in that truck up this road, Callahan figured Jarod didn’t need to work at acting like his nerves and his backside were ground to a pulp.

Maybe it was just as well the younger man had landed this gig.

Some of the tension went out of Jamie, just knowing his old friend was still alive. Damn Miller for putting them all in a position like this.

It took just over two hours to unload the trucks and check in all the cargo, inventorying every crate. Finally satisfied, Butch Carson signed off on the delivery. Jarod counted the stacks of cash just as carefully. He’d brought along a portable bill counter. Callahan just shook his head.

“We deliver, you pay. Nice and simple,” Jarod replied. “I like a job that goes off smooth.”

That time Callahan did roll his eyes. “We’re just regular, law-abiding citizens.”

“Moderately well-armed citizens,” Jarod noted.

Callahan bit on the challenge. “Yeah. We need to talk to your boss about that. This will do for now, but we have some bigger plans long range.” He glanced at the other driver.

“I’m the boss,” Jarod answered with a shrug. “You can talk to me.”

Callahan glanced toward the gates. “Long ride back, and it’s late. Mess in thirty. We’ll see if we can’t do some business.”

Jarod looked out at the road. “We deliver goods. We get paid. We go home. Back down your fucking landmine of a road. But we can make time to talk business. Sergei, call it in. Doubt there’s any cell reception.

Use the satellite phone. Tell headquarters we’ve delivered, and these guys are looking for a little more bang for their buck. We’ll head out in an hour.”

* * *

Once the trucks were parked in the hangar for the evening, Amanda turned their guests over to Terra White for the official tour of the compound.

“You have all the American luxuries here,” the truck driver Jarod had called Sergei observed.

Terra gave him a skeptical glance. “You mean like hot and cold running water? Indoor plumbing?”

“Electricity. Telephones. Internet. This place is not exactly -- how do you Americans say it -- off the grid.”

“Electricity’s available everywhere in the country, but the Internet here sucks. It’s satellite. And we’re perfectly legit. Nonprofit, registered with the Feds and all that.”

Amanda shook her head, a little too obviously, just to make sure Sergei noticed. His attention had been focused elsewhere -- about the level of Terra’s tits -- but he managed to notice the look Amanda shot at Terra.

“What? It’s not some fucking secret, bitch.

We’ve got a website. And this arsenal you just wasted a ton of Daddy’s cash on?

It’s all legal, on our end at least. I know, because I was the one who had to fill out all the Goddamned paperwork.

” Terra made a good show of sounding really pissed off and indignant.

“Really? Paperwork? I thought you did your best work on your back. Isn’t that why this one’s following you around? To see if he can get in your pants?” Amanda snorted her reply, letting her distaste show.

“Don’t you have something else you need to order online?” Terra sneered. “Like a life?”

“Ladies, ladies, don’t fight. There is enough of Sergei to go around.”

Amanda glared at the man. “If you’re measuring in ego, you’re right, but count me out.

The pack celebration’s about to begin, and I, for one, have a mate.

” She flashed Terra her most superior look.

“If you want to hang out with the outsiders, that’s up to you.

” She gave her hips their best flounce as she turned and went in search of Jamie.

Amanda glanced over her shoulder. A quick look told her Sergei was buying it.

He would be too enthralled with the two of them fighting over him to worry much about anything that seemed off.

Heading back to the office, Amanda nearly ran into the solid wall of Jamie’s chest.

“There you are.” Callahan caught her up and wrapped his arm around her possessively. “How’s it going?”

“Terra’s got Sergei hooked. He won’t be paying any attention to Jarod and Belle.

He thinks he’s going to get laid. All I’m worried about now is you, and me, and this claiming thing.

We really have to mate in front of the whole pack?

” She really wasn’t into exhibitionism. Sex was supposed to be a private thing between two people who loved each other.

Unless you were a werewolf. And there was a pack mating under the full moon -- they called it the claiming moon.

Thirty werewolves in the heat of lust under the claiming moon was a little more than she’d bargained for.

Not that she wasn’t as madly in lust as all the other pack members.

Maybe more so. She was certainly as much in lust with Jamie as much as she was in love with him.

But could she actually perform for the entire pack?

Amanda was many things, but timid she was not.

Until now. Of all the things she’d been through in her life -- including being turned into a werewolf -- this was the most daunting.

She could tell Jamie didn’t like the idea any more than she did, but she sensed that it was for different reasons. God love him. He was only worried about her. “We don’t have to do this…”

“I’m fine. Just nervous. I’m just having a bout of stage fright.” She tried for humor but could tell by the frown on his face she’d failed. Miserably.

“This is a pack custom. It’s to show the entire pack we belong together.”

“You mean that I belong to you. What if I want it to be the other way around?”

Unexpectedly, Jamie grinned. “Like I’m going to have a problem with that. If that’s all you’re worried about, don’t. I got no problem being your bitch.”

Amanda laughed. That was her Jamie. Always finding her reservations and calming them. She could give a rat’s ass if either of them was seen as the dominant, as long as it was done and over with. Jamie knew that. His humor soothed her and he knew that, as well.