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Chapter 17

Po-po

LENNOX

I ’m woken abruptly from a deep sleep, disoriented, my head lighting up like Madison Square Gardens at Christmas. I sit up, attempting to understand what woke me.

My twin brother’s wolf is howling in my head like he’s being murdered.

What’s happening? I demand, aiming the telepathic thought at Keenan. As the thought leaves my head, my cell phone rings. I pick it up from my nightstand, flicking on the light.

Checking the caller ID, I answer, “Captain?”

Captain Charlamagne, my direct superior, replies, his gruff voice serious, “Lennox, I need you on a plane to Los Angeles within the hour. You fly out of LaGuardia at 01:00. The ticket should’ve already been sent to you.”

I put the captain on speakerphone and check my messages. The ticket is there. “Got it.”

“Investigator Lopez has been notified and will meet you at the airport,” he continues. “Her explosives expertise will be needed on the ground.”

“What happened?” I demand, my head ringing with Keenan’s howls of fear and anger. “Is my brother in trouble?”

“Your brother?” Charlamagne asks, confused. “There was a bombing in Los Angeles. The group you’ve been investigating are claiming responsibility.”

“ASHRA,” I say grimly, launching myself out of bed and dragging my leather overnight bag from my closet.

“Yes, they hit a movie premier. There were a lot of shifters in attendance, which is why we believe it was targeted.”

I go cold, frozen in place, my grip on the handle of my bag tightening. I barely hear him tell me not to miss the flight before hanging up. Keenan’s mate is an actress. If she was caught in the explosion, it would explain his current distress.

Calm down and tell me what’s wrong , I urge him, throwing clothes and toiletries into my bag.

He doesn’t respond, but Rush does. Something’s happened to his mate. I’m sure of it. We need to get to him.

I’m on my way now , I assure my brother, grabbing my bag and heading for the door. As I rush down to street level, I call for an Uber, an easy task at this early hour.

Find out what’s happening and report back , Lock orders.

Ignoring him, I climb into the car, telling the driver to get me to the airport as quickly as possible. I toss a couple of hundred-dollar bills into the front seat and he takes off like he was a Formula One racer in a previous life.

I secure my seatbelt. Making the flight is going to be tight, but I can’t miss it. Even the length of time the flight will take is too much.

Where is Magdalene? I demand. I need her to teleport me.

She’s not a magical transportation device , Rush says irritably, then adds, she took off as soon as the bombing happened. Said she needed some help if she was going to fuck with the natural order.

What does that mean? Lock asks, mystified.

I don’t understand half the stuff she says, Rush grumbles.

As I listen to their voices bantering in my head, it hits me how much I miss my brothers. I need to go home to Wolf-Haven more often.

I leap out of the Uber at the airport and rush through security, tossing my badge in the plastic bin on top of my belongings. As I near the gate, I see Charlie pacing.

Calm floods me and without thinking twice, I gather her against me.

She’s surprised but squeezes me before letting go. “Are you okay?” she asks, peering into my face, her earlier upset toward me pushed aside in the face of a crisis. I nod, but she knows better, now having access to my thoughts. “There’s something wrong with you, Lennox. Out with it.”

We join the line preparing to board the plane. “You know about the explosion?”

“Dale called and told me about it. Told me to meet you here. We’re being sent to investigate since we know more than their people about what AHSRA’s been up to.”

“I think my brother was caught in the explosion.”

Her face pales as she thrusts her phone under the ticket scanner and hands the attendant her driver’s license. “Is he okay?”

“I think so, but I suspect his wife was injured.” Or worse, but I can’t bring myself to say it out loud.

We find our seats, which are next to each other in a row of three, and I fold my bulk into the aisle seat as best I can while Charlie takes the middle seat. I send a silent thank you to whoever booked the seats for us for choosing the exit row and giving me a few extra inches of leg room.

Charlie grips my hand and looks at me with wide guileless eyes. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

I want to tell her that just being here, being herself, is the only help I need, but doubts crowd my mind. If Vanessa was killed, it’s proof the family curse is taking out the Wolven-North mates. Proof that Charlie could be next. Getting closer to her is the opposite of what I should be doing.

I gently pull my hand from hers and pretend to shuffle my bag further beneath the seat in front of me. “Just do your job, and I’ll do mine so we can put an end to this. An end to ASHRA.” I do my best to cloak my true thoughts from her, but her ability to read me is getting stronger. I hope she doesn’t sense my lie.

She’s hurt, but trying valiantly to scrub it from her mind so she can be supportive for me. “I’ll do whatever I can, Lennox. I promise.”

I feel like a bastard, but it’s for the best.

Charlie is silent through the safety demonstration and take-off, and I use the time to meditate, calming my agitated inner wolf who hates flying.

As we hurtle through the sky toward Los Angeles, Charlie and I search the internet for information on the movie premier and bombing, pouring through videos and photos of everything leading up to the bombing as well as the aftermath.

“Vanessa Bedalia was the star of the show,” Charlie murmurs, her tone sad as she flicks through photos.

“I had no idea.” I feel like an asshole for not paying more attention to my brother and his mate. For hundreds of years, we’ve kept our comings and goings secret from those around us, doing our best to keep Wolf-Haven together in the face of our insane brother, King Fallon. Perhaps our secretiveness spilled over too much into our relationships with each other. I’d gone to Keenan’s wedding but left as soon as possible to get back to New York. Maybe if we talked more, laid bare our secrets, if I’d kept him abreast of my investigation, maybe…

It’s not your fault . Keenan’s tired voice sounds in my head.

I sit up straighter and Charlie eyes me.

You’re okay? I demand.

Vanessa was injured in the bombing. We’re at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center.

I’m on my way , I promise him.

Thank you, brother . He shuts down our mental link to focus on his mate.

“Your brother?” Charlie guesses.

I nod, and she touches my arm sympathetically. I don’t deserve her.

“No, but you have me anyway.” She gives me a weak smile and my heart thumps in response.

I decide then and there if we can’t fulfill our mating destiny, I will still watch over until the day she dies, making her life better in every way I can.

Several hours later, we enter the hospital together, leaving our bags behind in our rental vehicle. Keenan left my name on a list with reception, allowing us to easily pass through security to Vanessa’s room.

As we approach, a small woman with bright bubblegum pink hair steps into the hallway. Her nose twitches and she turns sharply to stare at me, her eyes widening.

“Keenan? But you were just…” She points at the door behind her, frowning. “Right, you’re the twin. Lennox. You have shorter hair.” She glares at me like my hair has personally offended her.

“Pinky.” We met at the wedding.

Her worried gaze darts back to the room. “It’s not… it’s not looking good.”

“I’m so sorry.” Charlie introduces herself, adding, “We’re here to help.”

Pinky nods distractedly. “Are you a doctor?”

“Bomb expert.”

This sharpens Pinky’s gaze. “Who do you think did this?”

Before I can tell Charlie to keep it to herself, she says, “ASHRA.”

Pinky’s eyes narrow. “Those shifter hating fucks.” Her gaze grows speculative. “They killed people in that explosion. Mostly humans, but a few shifters too.”

“We don’t need your help with this,” I growl, stepping toward her.

Charlie gives me a confused look, probably wondering why I’m posturing with a woman who looks like a stiff wind could blow her over. Looks can be deceiving. Pinky is the last of her kind, a true dragon shifter.

We spend a few minutes with my brother, who stands vigil next to his unconscious bride, his gaze never leaving her face. His gut-wrenching agony beats at my mind until I’m nearly insane with grief.

When Charlie suggests in hushed tones that we leave to check out the bomb site, I agree just to get away from my brother who barely notices when we leave. I can’t think with his emotions battering at me.

“She’ll pull through,” Charlie says unconvincingly as we climb into our rental, Charlie in the driver’s seat.

We get as close as we can to the bomb site, park and make our way to the officer running the show.

“Detective Lennox Wolven-North,” I introduce myself to Officer Hogan while Charlie beelines to the nearest fire truck.

“Don’t know why you were sent,” the lead officer says, annoyance clear in his tone. “We didn’t ask for help. You’re wasting your time.”

Ordinarily, I would finesse the situation. Make the other officer feel comfortable, like his turf was being respected, but today I have no patience with posturing. “You have no shifter division and this bombing is being claimed by an anti-shifter terrorist organization. My brother and his wife were caught in the explosion and it looks like she’s not going to pull through. Do you know what it means when a shifter loses his mate?”

Officer Hogan narrows his eyes at me.

“It means if she dies, my brother will also die.” I step up to him, the top of his head barely coming up to my chin. “I will be investigating this bombing.”

The bullheaded officer narrows his eyes. “You’ll gain access to the scene when I’m good and ready.”

I’m about to do something extremely unprofessional and lift the man up by his collar when I feel Charlie’s calming presence at my side.

She glares at Officer Hogan. “We’re being cock-blocked. The bomb team says this guy won’t give them access to the site. Some kind of pissing contest between PD and Fire.”

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but we do things my way around here.” Hogan crosses his arms, his expression one of stubborn arrogance.

Charlie narrows her eyes. “Fire Investigator Lopez of the New York Fire Department. I also happen to be an expert in explosives. You, on the other hand, were only recently promoted and all this…” She waves her hand indicating the chaotic scene around us, “is about as embarrassing as it looks. Do yourself a favour and give Fire access, or we’ll make sure your demotion is a steep fall with a hard landing.”

While I would have preferred explaining in painful detail why Officer Hogan should cooperate with us, watching my magnificent mate go toe-to-toe with a man such as him is truly a pleasure to witness.

His ruddy cheeks deepen in colour. “The scene isn’t safe. No one gets access until I get the all-clear?”

“Safe from what?” Charlie snaps. “The firefighters whose job it is to determine when a site is safe? What’s wrong with you?”

His face mottles and I step between him and Charlie. “You get one chance to be on my good side, Hogan. What’s it gonna be?”

“Go back to New York,” he grits.

My blood pressure rises and I’m about to take the guy’s head off, when Charlie grips my arm. “C’mon, since we’re obviously getting nowhere here, let’s follow another lead.”

“What lead?” Hogan says sharply. “What do you know about this bombing?”

“Nothing I’ll be sharing with PD until you give Fire access.”

“This is our crime scene,” he snarls back. “I don’t need Fire stomping all over the place, damaging evidence.”

“Let’s go.” Charlie whirls away, expecting me to follow, which I do.

“Stay away from my investigation!” Hogan shouts after us and Charlie shoots him the finger over her shoulder.

“Sorry, that wasn’t professional,” she mutters. “I hate when PD blocks Fire from scenes we need access to.”

“I think it’s more than that,” I tell her, holding the driver’s door to the rental car open for her. “I suspect he sympathizes with ASHRA and is disgusted by my presence.” I climb into the passenger seat. “Where are we going? What’s this lead we supposedly have?”

“We’re going to stakeout the LA address in the ASHRA file Duncan Sharptooth gave us.”

“Smart girl.”

She tosses a smile at me. “I suppose girl is better than female, but I still prefer woman.”

I don’t know how she can make me smile at such a time, but she does. In fact, I always feel better when we’re together. I never knew I was missing this feeling of contentment until I met her. Now, I don’t think I can live without it.

I enter the address into the car’s GPS while Charlie drives, weaving her way effortlessly through Los Angeles traffic.

We make our way to the outskirts of the city, approaching a quiet residential area as sunset casts an orange glow over the sparse neighbourhood. “There,” Charlie says, pointing at a house set slightly apart from the others. It’s a large two-story building but doesn’t stand out. The perfect place to house the Los Angeles branch of an alleged terrorist organization. “What should we do?”

“Park here,” I say, and she pulls over where we can see the house but aren’t close enough to draw their attention.

“Should we check it out?” she asks nervously.

My mate is absolutely not stepping foot anywhere near that house, but I don’t tell her that, instead saying, “We’ll watch. See if anyone comes or goes.”

“A real stakeout,” she mumbles, a spark of interest in her tired voice. “We should’ve picked up snacks.”

It hits me she hasn’t slept any more than I have and she doesn’t have the body of a shifter to sustain her when the going gets tough.

Our date the evening before feels like it was weeks ago. “Who’s taking care of Luke?”

“My parents came over,” she says, covering a yawn. “They’re great, always come running when I need them. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

We sit silently for several minutes when a car drives by us and parks in the driveway of the house we’re staking out.

“Now that’s interesting,” Charlie says, leaning forward in her seat.

Even more interesting, the person who steps outside the vehicle is someone we recognize. Officer Hogan from the blast scene.

“So he is a shifter hater,” Charlie observes.

“Maybe he’s here to ask questions. Maybe the LA cops know more about ASHRA than we were led to believe.”

“He’s going inside.”

We wait for him to re-emerge.

“I’m so tired, I must be hallucinating.” Charlie moves forward in her seat again, squinting, her gaze on the sky.

Frowning, I lean forward as well. She points and I follow the line of her finger. She’s right, I see it too, but what? As I watch, it grows progressively larger.

“It’s not moving fast enough to be an airplane,” she muses.

It’s moving up and down as it steadily approaches. “Shit,” I growl.

“What is it?” Charlie says, alarmed.

“Dragon.” Without taking my eyes off the sky, I say to Charlie, “We need to get out of here fast. Dragon fire is hotter than lava and we don’t want to get caught in the crossfire.”

“You can’t have said what I think you just said.” But she throws the car in drive and does a three-point U-turn in the street, speeding away from the Los Angeles ASHRA headquarters.

I lose sight of Pinky for a split second, then her giant wings crest over top of the house. Seconds later, she lets out a roar and a glow lights up her long fuchsia throat before a stream of fire bursts from her snout, blazing a path of destruction below her.

No one can survive dragon fire. Everyone in that house, Hogan included, will have burned to death.