Chapter Eight
“It’s from Jaxon.” Barrett frowned at the cell phone in his hand. He read, then reread the message he’d sent. A female Were was in trouble and he had to help her out. He said he had to take her to Louisiana and would be back late the next day.
Unease settled over him like thick fog.
He punched in a text and sent it. Who is the female?
“That asshole better not be getting any pussy,” Damon snarled and then crossed his arms over his chest. He’d been in the office with Barrett going over what he needed to do while Barrett went to the meeting with the other Pack Masters.
“He knows better. Jaxon might be a skirt chaser, but when it comes to his job, he’s focused.” Foreboding snaked around Barrett’s gut. It had nothing to do with Jaxon. He trusted the Were. What he was feeling was something else coming down the road that he couldn’t see. Too bad he didn’t have that fucking witch in custody. He could get her to do some kind of magick and tell him what future event had him on edge.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced back down at Jaxon’s reply.
Her name is Ginny.
“Motherfucker.” He’d bet his soul it was Ginny Boudier McGregor.
“What is it?” Damon looked up from the paperwork and frowned.
Barrett looked at Damon and held his stare. “Apparently Jaxon is helping a female werewolf.”
“Yeah, you said that already.” Damon shrugged.
“And her name is Ginny.”
“Who the fuck is that?”
“Edward Boudier’s only daughter.” He squeezed the phone in his hand and struggled to make sense of what Jaxon had just done.
“Fuck.”
“We’re the ones who are going to be fucked if Boudier finds out.” Barrett sent a quick text back to Jaxon. A message in red popped up saying it wasn’t delivered.
“Shit.”
“Now what is it?” Damon stood. “Does Jaxon know who he’s dealing with?”
“I don’t know. I sent him a text to let him know, but it’s not going through.” He forked his hand through his hair.
“Do we send someone down there?” Damon frowned.
“I’ve already sent Ryker. He’s trying to find that witch.” He sat down in his chair and leaned back, steepling his fingers together.
“We can pull another Guardian,” Damon said.
“No.” He shook his head. “Ryker is on the border of Arkansas and Louisiana. He knows not to cross the state line. I have a bad feeling that Jaxon is already in Louisiana. If we send another Guardian, it’s going to add fuel to the fire with Boudier. If Jaxon can get out of Louisiana before Boudier realizes one of my men is there, we still might have a chance.”
“A chance of what?” Damon asked.
“A chance of avoiding all-out war with Louisiana.”
“War? The Packs haven’t been at war since, hell, I can’t remember when.”
“Boudier would start a war if his steak wasn’t prepared the way he wants it. Boudier thinks of nothing but himself. His Guardians are just hired soldiers, there at his beck and call.”
“Sounds like a bigger fucker than I remembered him to be,” Damon said.
“That’s right.” Barrett cocked his head. “You used to be a Louisiana Guardian.”
Damon snorted. “Before I got kicked out. Best thing that ever happened to me.”
Barrett leaned forward and studied the Were. “When you worked for Boudier, did you see what it was about him that made his Guardians so loyal to him?”
“Well, first of all, I was only a Guardian in that state for less than a year before getting kicked out. And I never met the Pack Master. I was offered the Guardian position through one of his Assassins. Boudier never had Guardians in his presence, only his Assassins. The Guardians were never allowed to discuss Boudier or talk smack about him.” Damon shook his head. “I don’t think it’s loyalty they feel toward him. They’re afraid of him.”
“That’s what I figured. If Boudier catches a whiff that I have a Guardian in his state, he won’t hesitate to retaliate. It’s what he wants.” Barrett walked over to the map and studied the boundary line between the two states.
He wanted his revenge against Boudier, but he sure as shit wasn’t about to sacrifice his own Guardian.
He needed Jaxon back in Arkansas without Ginny.
It was the only way to save the future of their Pack.
* * *
Ginny tightened her arms around Jaxon as he tore down the highway toward Lafayette. It had taken her four hours to drive to El Dorado in her car. But judging by how fast Jaxon was pushing his Harley, she figured he was going to shave that time down by at least forty minutes.
She welcomed the night air that blasted her face. Her hair had long since come undone and was swiping around her face and impeding her vision. She didn’t mind. She didn’t need to see the road. Jaxon was in charge, and she felt safe in knowing he’d do what he promised and get her home.
Home. The overgrown house she’d stepped into tonight was the only home she’d ever known. Where she was heading now wasn’t home. It was a prison.
Her mind flew back to the day her life forever changed. What was supposed to be her wedding day had turned into a funeral.
Not only had her grandmother died trying to protect her from a father she didn’t know, but her future had died as well.
She didn’t have a life. She existed. She existed so others could live.
It was a life she wouldn’t wish upon her worst enemy.
Her stomach pitched as they passed a highway sign for Lafayette. The skin on her arms pebbled with terror. She was almost home.
City lights came into view, and Jaxon slowed his speed. Instead of staying on the road, he turned into a gas station.
Her heart lurched into her throat.
“What are you doing? We can’t stop. Not now.” Her heart beat against her chest.
“I need gas,” he said over his shoulder and pulled up beside a gas pump.
Her gaze darted around at the few people milling around their cars. She inhaled deeply. According to their scents, none of them were werewolves.
It didn’t matter. John employed humans as well as werewolves. He had eyes all over the state of Louisiana. The fact that she’d just pulled into a gas station on the back of a bike with a man who wasn’t her mate would get back to John. This was not going to end well for her.
She needed to get out of sight. She hoped off the bike and fumbled with the saddlebags. Finally she opened one and gathered her clothes into her arms. She dug in her pocket for the insignia ring and slipped it on her the index finger of her right hand.
“What are you doing?” Jaxon grabbed her arm and narrowed his eyes.
“I can get home by myself now. Thank you for taking me this far.” She glanced around, looking for any familiar faces.
“But it’s still a few more miles.”
“It’s fine. I have to go.” She jerked out of his grasp and hurried down the side of the road. It was late and there was hardly any traffic, so she should be okay. The streetlights illuminated her path, and she knew if she stuck to the light she’d be safe enough from any harm.
The funny thing was, she was safer out here on the streets than she was at home.
Because once she got home, there’d be hell to pay.
* * *
“That is the most hardheaded female I’ve ever come across,” Jaxon muttered under his breath as he gassed up his Harley. He was running on fumes and knew he had to get gas before going after her. He kept glancing up to keep an eye on her as she walked away. The few people who were out didn’t bother her. One sketchy-looking human eyed her and then started to walk close to her but then changed his mind and ran in the other direction.
It was like they were afraid of her. Or afraid of what would happen if they got too close to her.
When he’d pulled into the gas station, he’d had a gut instinct that she was going to try to run away from him before they reached her house, and he’d already made up his mind to follow her until she got home. Maybe she was too embarrassed about the abusive situation she was living in. Maybe she really loved her mate and didn’t want to leave.
Who the fuck knew. He’d thought he knew women. But Ginny was proving him wrong.
He hung up the pump and trashed his receipt. He knelt and secured the saddlebags Ginny had left open.
“Nice bike, man.” A big, burly human with muscles and a bald head sauntered up to him. “I’m in the market for a bike like that.”
“Not for sale.” He straddled the bike.
The man stepped in front of the Harley and grabbed the handlebars. “Well then, why don’t you give it to me?”
“I’m not giving you shit. But I will crack your head in for you,” Jaxon snarled.
The guy let out a laugh. “Look, you little piece of…”
“I don’t have time for this shit.” Jaxon placed his feet on the ground and stood. He hit the guy between the eyes.
The man blinked and then fell back like a tree, his head smacking against the pavement with a sickening sound.
Jaxon started the engine and the bike roared to life. He sped out of the gas station, running over the guy’s fingers.
He drove as far as he remembered seeing Ginny walking and then inhaled, using his sense of smell to follow her deeper into town.
He rumbled past rows and rows of mansions, looking and smelling for Ginny’s scent. He noticed the houses all had state-of-the-art cameras aimed at the driveway, and some even had gated entrances.
The large houses were quite different from what Ginny had grown up in. She’d been a country girl through and through and preferred going fishing and having picnics to shopping or going out for a fancy dinner.
She was a shell of who she used to be.
He slowed his bike in front of large mansion. The gate had been activated, and the gates were swinging closed. He saw her small figure walking up the driveway. Without thinking, he drove through the gate, barely making it inside before they closed.
There were no lights on inside the house. Unusual for someone expecting their wife to come home after being gone all day.
The gate slammed shut behind him.
“What the fuck am I doing?” he muttered to himself. Now he was trapped on the wrong side of the gate with no way to open it without waking the house.
But he’d started this journey, and now he needed to see it through to the finish.