As they flew in Dev’s helicopter, over the mountains Luke loved so much, impotent rage sizzled in his veins. “I can’t fucking believe I left him,” Luke growled.
They’d left Sam’s body behind. Sam’s, and the goddess only knew how many more.
Like it mattered to Sam now. Besides, if Luke had been any kind of decent Alpha, he would have known when one of his wolves was killed. Hell, he should have felt that Sam was in trouble. Maybe they could have saved him.
“Goddammit!” He banged his head against the back of his seat.
From her place in the copilot’s seat, Isabelle turned to look at him. Throughout the flight back, she’d kept an eye on him like a rabbit watches a fox.
There was a hollow ache in his chest now, where only this morning her light had filled him, burning bright. She was pulling away from him and their bond.
It infuriated his wolf, but Luke couldn’t blame her. He was a disgrace and they’d just confirmed all her worst fears about lycanthropes: that death and violence were their stock in trade.
Maybe she was right.
“We’re going back, Alpha,” Davy said. He averted his eyes as he spoke. Wonderful. Now Luke was scaring his own wolves. “Once we have the right equipment and...” The younger male’s voice trailed off, bereft.
“I should’ve stayed with—” Grief choked off the rest of Luke’s words, too.
“Sonofabitch!” Dev snapped a second later.
“What?” Isabelle asked. “You still can’t raise anyone at the airfield?”
“No. Or Dean either.”
The hair on Luke’s neck stood on end. “Is something wrong with the radio?” Could they have been sabotaged, too? Below, the first ring of homes on the outskirts of town were coming into view. They were few and far between yet, but if Dev’s helicopter went down...
Isabelle reached out and flipped some switches on the console in between her and Dev.
“No,” Dev said. “I can hear and communicate with the other local towers. No one is answering at Townes.”
“Shouldn’t you try to radio the sheriff’s station?” Davy asked.
“Not yet,” Luke said. “I want to talk to Dean first. I’m going to try the cell.”
He dialed his cousin’s number and let it ring until voicemail picked up. He ended the call and tried again. Each unanswered ring wound him tighter and tighter.
He tried Rissa next.
No answer.
His mother, the pack house, Sarah.
Nothing.
“Fuck.”
Isabelle and Davy had their phones out. She swore and stabbed the End Call button.
“Mom’s not answering either,” Davy said.
“I don’t like this,” Isabelle said.
They were approaching the helipad at Townes Aviation. Luke’s truck was still parked in the lot, next to Dev’s. Everything looked quiet.
Too quiet.
“Where is everyone?” Luke asked. Marianne or Rick should be around, or at least one of the mechanics. But there were no other vehicles. The landing pad and surrounding area were empty.
Dev circled the small airfield once, then maneuvered the helicopter over the tarmac. As they descended, Isabelle said, “I really don’t like this.”
“What is it?”
“Pull up! Pull up!” she shouted suddenly. “Gun—”
Something hit the window next to Luke and the safety glass splintered. A piece of it flew across the cabin in front of him.
The helo lurched up a dozen feet.
Ping! on his door. Ping! on Davy’s.
“What the—” Dev yelled, and they bucked to the left. If Luke hadn’t been strapped in, he would have been lying across Davy’s boots. More glass shattered in the cockpit. “Shit!”
“Second shooter, ten o’clock. Go, go, go!” Isabelle said.
Luke’s wolf was going nuts, barking warnings and demanding they protect their mate. “Get out of here, Dev!” he yelled.
Suddenly, they dipped toward the ground and several more bullets struck the helicopter. The scent of blood rose in the air. The helo spun. Everyone was shouting.
Everyone except Isabelle.
“Taking the stick, Dev. Now,” she said in a calm, commanding voice that cut through the chaos.
They jumped forward and up, and Luke was pushed back in his seat, like he’d launched from a rocket. For a few seconds, there was complete silence, except for the chop of the rotors and the wind whistling through the broken windows.
“Anyone hit besides Dev?” Isabelle asked, again with that cool, professional voice.
Luke’s stomach flipped over.
Davy popped off his harness and lunged forward. “Dad!”
“I’ll live,” Dev ground out. “Got me in the shoulder.”
Isabelle unwound the scarf from around her neck and passed it to Dev. “Put pressure on that. You got a medical kit?”
“In the back. Davy’s an EMT.”
“Good. Davy, get the kit.”
Davy scrambled to the rear of the cabin, allowing Luke the room to get up, too, and stick his head into the cockpit. He’d never really paid attention to how many buttons and switches were on the console before. Dozens. Millions. And then there were the souped-up joysticks and pedals.
He stared at his mate’s fine-boned hands as they made minute adjustments to the sticks. He had no freaking clue what they did. She could be writing I hate werewolves in the sky for all he knew. But she looked one-hundred percent in control while she did whatever it was she was doing to keep them from falling from the sky.
One more slow, deep breath and he was finally able to speak without snarling. Good thing, too, because the scent of blood and fear was ripe in the helicopter, and his wolf was at the end of his patience. “Are you hurt, sugar?”
She glanced up at him, her eyes flat and unreadable. “No. You?”
For a moment, he had the insane urge to grab her and give her a good shake. Wake her up. Or pull the plug on the robot who’d taken her place. Her vanilla-and-sugar scent was gone. Now she smelled like an icefall, all bitter-cold, stony anger. Whatever she was doing was destroying their mate bond.
But once again, they had no time. It looked like they were racing down County Road 4, heading toward the lake. Good. “Take us to the pack house, Isabelle.”
“We have to take my dad to the clinic,” Davy said, gently brushing past Luke. He ripped open a package of bandages and leaned over his father.
Isabelle looked over at Dev, then shook her head. “No time,” she said, echoing Luke’s own thoughts.
Luke scanned the land out the window. “If that was the reception waiting for us, what’s going on with everyone else?”
* * *
Izzy adjusted their altitude. What I wouldn’t give for my Black Hawk. Dev’s Huey was a great machine, but she wouldn’t mind an extra fifty miles per hour right now. And guns. What she wouldn’t give for a pair of miniguns.
Because if anyone tried to hurt the Dodds...
For a second, she considered arguing with Luke about where they should go, but the way his voice rang with certainty changed her mind.
He rubbed his knuckles against his sternum, as if trying to ease an ache. For some reason, her own chest hurt, too, like a block of ice had taken up residence where her heart should be. After a moment, she asked, “Which way?”
Dev gave her directions. “Thank you,” he said when he was through. “I was too slow. If you hadn’t been here—”
She waved away his thanks. “Ever fly combat?”
“Nah. Not unless you count battling Mother Nature.”
“I do,” she said, knowing how hard and dangerous it was to be a search-and-rescue pilot. She shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of training. That’s all.”
“And experience,” Dev said, his voice strained. “I didn’t even see those guys until they were already shooting.”
She glanced at him and saw sweat beading on his upper lip despite the chill in the aircraft. He seemed to sense her scrutiny, because he said, “I’ll be fine.”
Luke stuck his head into the cockpit. “Smells like that bullet is silver.”
He can smell that?
“Doesn’t matter,” Dev said.
The two males stared at each other, their expressions grim. Finally, Luke laid a hand on Dev’s uninjured shoulder and nodded once. Izzy recognized a soldier’s determination when she saw it. Hopefully, it would last them through the day, because she had a terrible feeling things were only going to get worse.
“Luke,” she said, wishing she didn’t have to tell him. Would he even believe her? “There was more than one guy back at the airfield.”
“I heard you say there was a second shooter.”
“I saw at least four guys. There were two in the hangar. One of them had a rifle. The guy who shot Dev was in the shed, and another was in the conference room window.” She took a deep breath. “I recognized that one.”
A growl rose over the rotor chop. “Who?”
“Rick.”
Three male voices erupted at once.
“What?”
“Are you kidding?”
“You left him there?” Davy shouted. “We have to go back.”
Izzy shook her head. The horrified look on Luke’s face made her want to give him some comforting lie. But she didn’t. It could mean the difference between his life and death. “He had a handgun—”
“Which he obviously needed to protect himself,” Davy said.
“No, kid,” she said, her voice a hard slash. “Rick had a gun and he pointed it right at us.” She leaned forward and tapped a crack on the windshield. If Rick had had a more powerful weapon or had a better angle, she might be bleeding out right now.
“Are you positive?” Luke asked. His voice sounded strangely hollow.
“Yes.”
“He’s a dead man.”
Despite his obvious fury, the wolf was nowhere to be seen in his dark green eyes. They were hard and cold and utterly bleak. She almost reached out to him, wanting to wipe that look from his face. But she kept both hands firmly on the controls, the ice around her heart throbbing with cold.
The mission—finding and protecting her family—was all that mattered now.