Present

Julian studied every nuance of her reaction to the news about Chrystal. Nothing about Dallas’s fury seemed feigned. The gold bleeding into her brown eyes betrayed her agitation far more than her tightly controlled expression or buried scent. She masked her presence like an alpha twice her years—or like I do.

“You haven’t answered the question,” he reminded her when she continued to glare at him. At least she didn’t try to strike him again. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t react to her physically, not in any fashion. At the same time, he would also not allow her to take him by surprise. She’d had her shot.

No more.

“Go fuck yourself,” she muttered, then turned away from him. Striding away from him, she moved more like a great beast on the hunt, one who stalked its prey with violence echoing with every strike of her boots against the cement path. Undeterred, Julian shadowed her steps.

“I’ve had better offers,” he said, digging the knife in a little deeper. “Why do they want Chrystal? What does it have to do with you?”

“Leave her out of it,” Dallas growled and whirled to face him. Unmitigated rage glowed in her eyes. The maternal ferocity shouldn’t have surprised him, but she’d hidden her daughter from the packs, locked her away from their world, then abandoned her.

Digging at the wound, he had to ask, “As mothers go, you rank somewhere between Joan Crawford and Scarlett O’Hara, so spare me your theatrics.” The remark struck. For a second, pain flowed across her expression only to vanish when her eyes shuttered and went cold. For the first time in years, his wolf raked his claws along the inside of his flesh. The beast, even more than he, had divested them of wild emotion. Reason, not passion, served them better. Even the gold within her eyes vanished, leaving only the dark, unreadable brown behind. Ignoring his wolf and her pain, he continued, “You have a relationship with Russians, that much was clear from your assistance on Diesel’s mission.”

His cousin seemed to know a great deal about Dallas, yet refused to answer any questions where she was concerned. Few wolves could truly stand up to him, but Diesel hadn’t even twitched. They were too alike and too close in age. Infuriating bastard wouldn’t confirm or deny anything concerning Julian’s Rogue.

Folding her arms, Dallas shifted her attention to the water. Save for the very controlled breaths she took, she’d gone still. A light wind rushed around them, and though it stirred her hair, it did little more than ruffle it. For a split-second, he found himself missing the longer tresses, and how they would tangle together in the ocean breeze even when it irritated her.

“You speak fluent Russian, or so I was led to believe,” he continued when she maintained her silence. “You have contacts within the structure of their packs, including their civilian governments. Those links lead me to believe your involvement is more than circumspect. Combine to them the Volchitsa’s direct challenge to the Alpha of Hudson River—your cousin, assassination attempts on your cousin’s mate, the systematic extermination of the Garcia family in Sutter Butte—the same family from which your Carlos hailed, and subsequent assaults on Delta Crescent—yes, I am aware of your friendship with Serafina Andre, and that you served as one of her tutors. The only connection I didn’t find was why they would assault the Yukon—at least until Diesel revealed you owed him a favor.”

Even as he detailed the list, she didn’t move, and her gaze never turned toward him. A muscle moved at the corner of her eye, and her nostrils flared.

“They’d left Willow Bend alone—at least directly—until now. Now they are risking everything for direct assaults into the heart of the pack. They stole humans from Willow Bend in specific and they turned one. She is not the only human they tried it with…still, you had no relationships in Willow Bend, save one.”

He waited a beat. Laying it all out for her, he realized how much of the puzzle he’d begun to string together. Yet had he done so because he found a way to work her into it or because, in truth, she was the lynchpin in the center of it all?

“They said they are hunting Chrystal specifically?” She ignored every other point he’d made, circling back to his original assertion.

Wolf clawing at him once more, he relented. “One confessed to hunting an Omega. They believed her to be in Sutter Butte, but she was not the right one. Emphasis on she.”

Exhaling slowly, Dallas faced him. “I spoke to her this morning.”

“She’s safe and well-protected.” Maybe she didn’t need to hear it from him, but he wanted to tell her regardless. “Her mate will allow no one to harm her, nor will the alpha. Chrystal is much beloved in her adopted pack. They will defend her.”

“Good.” For one clarion moment, they shared perfect accord. Julian had moved two of his Enforcers into the area. Mason hadn’t objected when he made the offer. The attack on Mason’s mate Alexis and their children had rattled him. The extra defense for the pack’s Omega seemed a small burden.

“The only connection I haven’t been able to figure out is why would they go after my Enforcers. That doesn’t tie into you.”

She snorted. “No, it doesn’t. At least not anymore.” The dry look rankled. Allowing her even a millimeter of territory under his skin would be a mistake. “Yet you’re very certain all the other targets tie into me.”

“Circumspect or not, you are the only common denominator. No one else has put it together yet. They don’t have enough information. Targeting Chrystal, however, will arouse questions. That little girl has no enemies nor a deceptive bone in her body.” As sarcasm went, he hadn’t even intended the dig at her, but it still landed a direct hit.

“If she is safe, that is all that is important. I take it you’ve learned how the Volchitsa communicate?” Dallas avoided his question. With any other wolf, he’d nail them to the wall until they answered.

She was no exception. Not anymore. “What do they want with you? Why are they tearing up the packs to find you?” Releasing his fisted control over his power, he let the energy of his wolf surge through him. Dallas had never bowed to him, not once. Today, however, that would change. Affection no longer bound him. “Answer. Me.”

“I will help you locate the Volchitsa,” she told him, her eyes opaque. Nothing stirred her scent. She might as well be a ghost, for all the read he was getting off of her. “They move in relatively small numbers, never more than five or six. They like to think of themselves as fists.”

Not what he wanted to know. Narrowing the distance between them, he struck and gripped her throat. Unmoved, she merely lifted her chin and met his gaze. His wolf went berserk, and Julian found himself unable to tighten his grip.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” she said, without even the faintest tremble. “We both know this. I knocked you on your ass, but I left you alive. You hate me, but you can’t kill me. It’s sad for both of us. We can accept this is our fate and work together, or you can keep posturing. Let me know when you’ve decided.”

Growling, Julian released her, and it was his turn to stalk away. The absolute loss of control was an unforgivable slip on his part. “I have no reason to trust you,” he said, even as his wolf balked. Silencing his wolf’s recalcitrance took effort.

“Well, then there’s something to be said about the devil you know.” Gone was her earlier indifference, replaced by dry humor.

With a glance over his shoulder, he raised his brows. “You are definitely the devil, but I don’t know you anymore.”

“I’ll make it easier,” she offered, and it aggravated the hell out of him he couldn’t read her. “I trust you.”

“What?” She couldn’t have shocked him more if she’d suddenly invited him to run in the rain. “Why the hell would you trust me? I can execute you with impunity.”

“Not as easily as you might think,” she told him, spreading her hands. Suddenly she wore a familiar mocking smile, one which told him she harbored a secret. “I am under the protection of Hudson River. Don’t believe me? Call Brett. I spoke to him two days ago. In person.”

“You? The anarchist? You’re back in a pack?” No way in hell. Brett Dalton was a smarter man than that.

She burst out laughing. “What the hell are you talking about? I’ve never been an anarchist.”

Julian didn’t find it remotely amusing. “You abandoned your pack because your grandfather, the alpha, handpicked you to succeed him. He was ready to step down, but you didn’t want the responsibility and bolted. You’ve defied every law, every convention, and you don’t think you’re an anarchist?”

“You give me way too much credit.” She grinned openly, and her eyes warmed with the brilliance shown in her smile.

“You think this is funny?” Incensed all over again, he glared at her. The decades since he’d last lain eyes on her had been hell. The last few years, since Three Rivers dug in, had been a special form of torture. “Wolves are dead, Dallas. I know you don’t give a shit about anything, but nothing about this is funny.” He wanted to shake her.

Hell, he wanted to punch her. Wildness and intrigue were one thing, but finding entertainment in the most challenging situation to face the packs in his lifetime?

“No, I think you’re hilarious.” Despite her defiance, her amusement faded. “Hate me if necessary. Hate that you need me. Hate that I’m here. I came because you sent those two Enforcers to wait for me.”

Stilling, he listened for even a note of deception. How had he ever thought he understood her? Believed he knew what drove her? Entertained the concept she would ever allow herself to be tamed?

“What makes you think I sent them?” He had, but he wanted her reasons. It had nothing to do with hearing her continue to speak to him.

Studying him a moment, she moistened her lips. His gaze zeroed in on the gentle swipe of her tongue. Damn, she knew how to provoke him. It shouldn’t still work, yet his wolf wrested free once more. The animal writhed just beneath his skin, as if he were that boy going off to war once more.

“You sent them to our place,” she said, then rolled her head from side to side. The vertebrae in her neck cracked, and her attention wasn’t on him anymore. Instead, she studied their surroundings. It irked him, especially when he’d only just earned her focus. He swore she’d done it deliberately. Nothing he’d done had surprised her, yet everything she did seemed to keep him off center.

Damn. Woman. “It’s hardly that anymore.”

“Says the man who never put it up for sale or changed a stitch of the decorating…not even the test rooms where we were deciding on what we wanted.” The reminder raked across a vulnerability he hadn’t realized still existed. “But it doesn’t matter why you kept it or if you merely tried to forget it was there. You sent your Enforcers there, whether to lure me out or for happenstance. They told me what was going on.”

“You gave them information.” That much he knew. She’d given John and Hadley an insight, a useful one.

“I did.”

“To help me?” Or to help herself?

“Do you really care why?” The blunt question drove the dagger in deeper. He’d twisted the knife in her; she seemed willing to return the favor.

“No.”

“Honesty, at last.” That rare smile put on an appearance. Still, she didn’t give him a second look. She studied the water. It gave him an excuse to assess her. The earlier reaction regarding Chrystal hadn’t been feigned, nor her focus on that aspect of his discussion.

Yet, she avoided addressing his other issues. Was it because she agreed with him or something else altogether? Why did she have to be so impossible to decipher? He liked order.

Dallas thrived on chaos.

It was annoying.

“Julian,” she said his name so quietly, he barely heard it. Yet something in her tone demanded his attention. Tracking the direction of her gaze, he frowned. They’d journeyed some distance from the pier. The crowd on the beach itself had been light with more people nearer the pier or much farther south at the opposite end of the beach.

Then he spotted the lone surfboard nearly a half-mile out. He had to squint to even see the figure, and he wasn’t doing more than just sitting there. Light glinted off something in his hands.

Binoculars.

“Friend of yours?” Julian considered his options. At that distance, the watcher could escape easily. If whoever it was continued to observe, they could hardly fail to notice where he and Dallas went.

“Nope. I don’t have friends.” The bland response pulled a reluctant smile from him.

“Maybe I should have inquired whether it was an enemy.”

“Too far out to tell,” she said, then stretched. “But I have a great idea. Leave me here…oh, better—punch me, then leave me here.”

Angling so he could still track their watcher, he spared her a half-glance. “Punch you?”

“C’mon, you know you want to do it. Consider it therapeutic. If they really are Volchtisa and after me, you belt me and leave me here all vulnerable helpless in the sand, and they’ll come to claim the prize. I take them down and not rip their throat out. It’s a great plan.”

It was a terrible plan. “You have no idea if that individual is anyone other than some man sitting on a surfboard.” At this distance, it could be a woman.

“Oh, you always overthink everything. If they’re a no one, they won’t do anything. Then I get up and we can go get coffee…or kale smoothies. Whatever the in thing is.”

“Headstrong, impulsive—reckless. Of course you want to do something rash.” Impossible woman.

“Boring. Staid.” Then she tilted her head, and curved the corners of her lips. “Impotent.”

“Fine.” He nodded grimly. “We’ll do it your way.” Curling his fingers, he kept his hand loose. Even pulling the force of the blow, he knocked her on her ass, and she collapsed. The sudden cessation of her mutiny coupled with her crumpled form gave him pause.

She peeked open one eye. “Now is when you go, you lump.” Finished with her snarl, she slumped once more.

Julian growled, then stalked away. Every step he took required discipline to not track the position of the man on the surfboard. The lack of surf explained why he was out there alone and lent some credibility to her concern they’d picked up a tagalong.

At the top of the stairs, he glanced toward where he left Dallas. The angle sucked, he couldn’t see her at all. A check toward the ocean revealed the surfer gone. Julian searched the beach—he saw no sign of either Dallas or the surfer.

“Fuck,” he exhaled the curse, disgust with himself and anger at her swelling. She’d played him.

Again.

Decades earlier…

Julian had no reason to be back at the damn beach other than he wanted to see Dallas again. As the most senior Enforcer, Second to William, he had a dozen Enforcers who reported to him and, technically, all of their Lone Wolves were his as well. He kept the southern California coastline as his. Los Angeles and San Diego were popular with many Lone Wolves.

So why did he make a point of returning to the State Park Beach? Yes, the alpha of Hudson River had contacted him directly about his granddaughter’s roam. Yes, he’d even ordered him to make sure nothing happened to her. It wasn’t the first time a member of an alpha’s family roamed, wouldn’t be the last.

But Dallas was different from most of the wolves he’d encountered. Slowing, he turned off the road and into the parking lot. Her bike wasn’t there, and from his vantage, he didn’t see any sign of her tent. A glance at his watch told him he wasn’t early. It was after six in the evening.

He could afford patience, so he left the bike, slid off the rope sandals and walked along the sand. When he reached the spot where she had erected her tent, sun, sea, and sand filled his nostrils, but not a trace of the distinctly feminine wildflowers and woods. Taking a seat, he studied the other campers. A handful had settled in. One even set up a fire pit and they were passing a couple of bottles—and smoking dope. The reefer left his nose burning.

As the sun blazed red and dipped closer to the ocean, there was still no sign of Dallas. The party group began to break up into couples, some disappearing into their own tents while others ranged out, walking hand in hand. Still, Dallas hadn’t arrived.

Worry niggled at him. Patience had always been his fortitude. Yet, exasperation invaded his normal calm. Years of practice taught him the power of stillness. Allowing frustration to vex him created an impossible situation. Better to simply wait.

“Hey, mister.” A half-drunk woman with dirty blond hair and a wild smile waved at him. “You waitin’ for Dallas?”

Of course they knew her name. “Perhaps.”

Alcohol tangled with reefer, salt, and far too much dime store perfume wafted off of the blond as she stumbled away from her companion to lurch across the sand toward him. The stink of her unwashed body pervaded beneath the other layers of scent. It made added to the burn in his sinuses, but he didn’t alter his position. He simply watched her with a hooded gaze.

“Dallas doesn’t camp here anymore. She got a place up the coast, sweet little guest cottage.” The blond stumbled, then giggled. “Some famous director met her at the coffee shop—wanted to make her a star. She turned him down, but did take his little place to live in.”

Did she really?

Rising, he nodded. “Thank you for the information.”

“Sure thing. If you want to party, I’m available.”

Julian would neuter himself first. “How kind. I’m afraid my dance card is full at the moment.”

“Bummer.” Her glazed eyes didn’t seem able to focus, but she managed to stay on her wavering feet. “You’re pretty.”

“Thank you,” he said, not interested in the compliment. “Do you know the name of Dallas’ new friend?” An unreasonable surge of possessiveness flooded him.

“Robby? Bobby? Something Roberty. His last name is Pepper. Cause Dallas made a salt joke.” The woman giggled again, her cognitive function as much in question as her hygiene.

“C’mon!” One of the men she’d been walking with called. “Let’s go, Mina!”

“Gotta go!” She wiggled her fingers then skipped away, stumbled, and recovered gracelessly before catching up to her friends.

Abandoning the beach, Julian returned to the lot but bypassed his bike for the public phone booth. Opening the slide door, he ignored the human stink rolling out on hot air and flipped open the phone book.

Two Peppers were listed. One of the addresses was to the south and inland, the other was in Pacific Palisades. Tearing the page out of the book, he dropped it back on its chain then headed for his bike. Seeking permanent housing beyond her tent made sense. Letting some sleazy director provide it for her did not.

It took him thirty minutes to locate the address—a white country house that looked out of place along the California coast with its broad colonnade and fancy garden. The secured gates and presence of a call box declared guests not welcome. Finding a place off the road, he parked his bike then hiked back to the property. Clearing the ten foot fence took a powerful leap.

As he landed on the manicured lawn, the sound of jetted sprinklers cut through the gathering darkness. Muted outdoor lamps illuminated the trees, and tall bushes cut to resemble mythical beasts. Shaking his head, Julian followed the edge of the property to circle the main house.

Bypassing the driveway, he detected a whiff of canine a moment before a growl resonated from beneath the shadows of a tree ahead. Not slowing, Julian felt his wolf unfurl and his vision shifted. There were two Dobermans staring at him, teeth bared, but they didn’t charge. Ears pinned, they hesitated though uncertainty mingled with their aggression.

“Girls,” he said in a low tone. “Go lay down.”

There was no reason to hurt them. With a whine, one bumped into the other, then they laid down, panting.

His wolf didn’t retreat until they set their heads down on their paws. The dogs dealt with, he made his way down a path past the swimming pool toward a small bungalow tucked into the trees. Yellow light glowed from the windows, but thin, white curtains obscured his view. The first touch of wildflowers tickled his nose as he paced the house. Her motorbike sat parked beneath a carport near the rear. A gravel path served as a driveway.

A pair of doors stood wide open to a small wooden deck with two lounge chairs. Dallas sat in one of them, wearing nothing more than a t-shirt. She stretched her long legs out, one ankle crossed over the other. No other scent muddied the air, and his wolf relaxed.

“Would you like a drink?” Her question didn’t surprise him. The moment his wolf relaxed, his scent would no longer be masked.

“What do you have?” Abandoning the shadows, he walked onto her porch. No male scents hovered around her. The cooler air from inside the bungalow carried only the taste of fresh paint.

“There’s beer in the cooler and some soda. Water in the tap.” She lifted her own bottle of amber colored beer and tipped it up. The angle let the light reflect against her face. The spill of dark hair with its red highlights created a living shadow around her.

Dropping onto the chair next to her, he flipped open the cooler. A half dozen bottles were inside, tucked into a bed of ice. “Expecting company?”

“I expected you a week ago,” she answered, then tilted her bottle up for another drink. “What kept you?”

Amused, even though he should be livid, Julian pulled a beer out and opened it. “You relocated without notifying me.” If she had notified him, there would have been a message with the service. “You had the number you were required to call.”

A smile curved her lips, and he could imagine her throaty chuckle though she didn’t make a sound.

“But you didn’t call it,” he said, popping the cap off and tossing it into the bin just inside the door. “I check my messages daily.”

“You are so very responsible.” Dallas shrugged. “You like having that power—where are we? What are we doing? Did we ask if we could have dessert before dinner?”

“You’re not a child, Dallas.” He lifted his bottle, then tapped hers when she met him halfway. “Don’t act like one.”

“Did I touch a nerve?” The invitation to play curled within her tone.

As delightful an offer as she was making, he couldn’t accept. “When you relocate, you call it in. Whether it’s a state, a beach, or a block away—you call. You provide the address and the date you intend to move. It’s not about control.”

“Bullshit,” she replied without an ounce of rancor. “It’s all about control. I’m alone. I answer to no one…except you, of course. I’m to answer to you, because you want to put a leash on me and snap tight to my collar.”

Laughter rumbling in his chest, Julian shook his head. “Woman, I wouldn’t dare put a leash on you. You’d chew through my arm.”

“And don’t you forget it.” She sat forward and swung around to face him. Her bare legs slid against his denim covered ones. “So can we stop pretending that you’re only checking in on me for duty?”

No. They couldn’t. No matter how provocative the offer. Keeping his expression even, he adjusted his stance to remove the contact. “Tell me about your landlord. Who is he? What does he know?”

With a growl, she stood. “He’s a film director, big ideas and big dreams, and very much interested only in his partner. I’m a beard, a damn good looking one.” Stalking inside, she paused on the other side of the threshold. “Hungry?”

Starving. “I could eat.”

“Then get off your ass and help me cook.”

Unwilling to pass up the invitation, he followed her. “So you live here to let others have the illusion he is keeping a mistress?”

“It’s only for a few months, but it gives me a roof over my head and time to save money. Besides, Bobby’s sweet and a surprisingly talented film maker. He also really likes the coffee at the diner where I work.”

“I still have trouble picturing you as a waitress.” Though he’d actually seen her in action. While he’d never gone into the restaurant where she worked, he’d sat outside. Watched her easy smiles and open manner with her customers. The contrast to her daring and heat concerning her encounters with him offered him another insight into the complicated layers which made up the wolf in front of him.

“I’m just full of surprises,” she said with a wink before pulling out two large steaks from inside the fridge. The size of the steaks, and the fact her oven was on and he could scent the potatoes inside it pulled another smile from him.

“Expecting someone else?”

“Yes, my lover. Well, possible lover. Too bad all I got was you.” She stuck her tongue out at him and set the steaks on the counter. “Go start the grill outside. You do know how to light a fire, right?”

Instead of responding, he studied her. Pivoting, she faced him and raised her eyebrows. “Hello?”

Wild challenge radiated from her dark eyes, and there was no mistaking the gold ring encircling them. Tilting his head, he drank the heady nature of her scent. More than defiance twined around him. The reckless game she wanted to play threatened everything.

“Hey, big boy,” she said, narrowing the distance. “You go to sleep on me?”

“Dallas,” he told her, catching her chin in his hand. “Shut up.” He closed the last inches separating them and claimed her lips for a kiss. He expected the bite, and she didn’t disappoint. The sharpness of her teeth only added to the sensuality of the kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and Julian threw caution to the wind and cupped her ass as he delved his tongue against hers.

Liquid heat radiated through his system, and when he growled, she answered.