“My fiancée grew up here and she’s home for a visit. I thought I’d surprise her.” At first Reno hadn’t been sure how he’d present himself. A co-worker on vacation? A close friend? But recalling how Brandi had addressed him during their last brief phone call—darling, sweetheart—he decided to use fiancée as a cover. It also gave him a greater claim to her should the Alpha prove to be difficult.
“Fiancée, you say?” The man took his hat off and scratched his head. “I ain’t heard nothing about anyone planning on mating an outsider.”
“Well, we’ve been keeping it quiet.”
The man frowned. “What’s this supposed fiancée’s name?”
Reno answered slowly, carefully watching the man for any reaction. “Brandi. Brandi Johansson.”
“Brandi? Yeah, she’s here, but there’s been no talk about her having a potential mate.” The man—his name tag said he was Walt—stared at him suspiciously.
“Like I said, we haven’t really told anyone yet. She wanted her birth pack to know first before we went public.”
The man rubbed his neck thoughtfully. “Well, now… I’ll have to check this out with our Alpha. Gimme a sec.” Turning his back and walking some distance away, the man pulled out his phone and placed a call.
Reno strained to hear what was being said but the fellow was carefully keeping his voice low. Instead, he had to content himself with watching the man pace back and forth. His uniform would lead one to believe he was a sheriff except Lycan packs didn’t have sheriffs. So what was Walt’s rank? Beta? Scout? Or was the uniform just a cover for any non-Lycan visitors?
Walt turned to face him and barked out a question. “What’s your name, young fella?”
Reno inwardly bristled at the term ‘young fella.’ The man was only a few years older than him but seemed determined to carry off a ‘good ol’ boy’ image. “Reno. Reno Smith.”
“Pleased to meet you, Reno.” He eyed Reno up and down while conveying the information. After listening to whoever was on the other end, he terminated the call. “Victor says you can come in.”
“Victor? He’s your Alpha?” Reno feigned ignorance.
“Yep. Victor Hadsund. He’s arranging a room for you at the Star Gazer. Just head straight down this road, you can’t miss it. If you’re willing to wait about half an hour, I can give you a personal escort. The man who’s supposed to be on duty here called in sick and I’m waiting for his replacement.”
“Thanks, but I’m sure I can find my own way.”
Walt looked as if he’d like to protest but then nodded. “I’ll just move the barricade for you.”
“Why the barrier?”
The man rubbed his chin as if considering his answer. “Well, we don’t take to outsiders much anymore. This is a Lycan town and people are used to acting natural—wolf-like—whenever they want. We don’t need regular humans wandering in without notice. Wouldn’t want them to see something they shouldn’t, you know?”
Reno nodded. “Good idea.”
Walt dragged the barricade over and waved him through. “If you need anything during your stay, you can usually find me at the town hall.”
Putting the car in gear, Reno gave a slight wave and proceeded down the road. Walt’s explanation of the roadblock was reasonable. A town totally made up of Lycans would need to guard against outsiders. Still, a barricaded entrance didn’t leave one with a welcoming feeling.
Driving down the main street he noted various small businesses, a school, and what appeared to be a town hall. He speculated it was probably used for pack meetings now.
The sun was slowly sliding lower in the sky but it was still early enough for Lycans to be lingering in town. Some were carrying packages while others stood talking in small groups. As he drove by, each paused what they were doing to study him. He had a feeling strangers weren’t often seen in the town, nor were they overly welcome. Keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead, he was careful not to make eye contact. Antagonizing pack members wasn’t part of his agenda… yet.
A sign proclaiming The Star Gazer Motel and Diner came into view. It was a small building, and like much of the town, had seen better days. Reno parked his rental, grabbed his duffle bag and got out.
Somewhere to his left, a screen door slammed and then a woman’s voice could be heard exclaiming. “I don’t believe it. Brandi Johansson is planning on mating! My goodness, what a fine, strapping young werewolf she’s picked out.”
Reno turned around to see a middle-aged woman bearing down on him. She boldly grabbed his hand and started shaking it.
“I’m Nancy Campbell. Brandi lived next door to me when she was growing up. I babysat her a couple of times, too.” The woman—Nancy—boasted their association while looking him up and down. “And you must be Reno Smith. My heavens, the whole town has been a-buzzin' that our Brandi came home for a visit and now her young man is here. Why, when she went off to the Academy to study, we figured she’d never come back, but this… ” Nancy clasped her hands to her ample bosom and shook her head back and forth as if unable to believe the recent turn of events.
“Well, we’re both here just for a quick visit,” Reno cautioned. “I wanted to see where Brandi grew up.” He looked around and hinted gently. “I thought she might be waiting for me here?”
“No.” The woman replied slowly. “I believe Victor’s been busy talking to her—at least that’s what he said when he called a few minutes ago—but he told me to make sure you had a room.”
“Is she staying here or with family?”
“Her aunt only has a small place, so she took a room here. Unit two. I’ll put you right next door in number three.”
“No need. We’ll share.” Reno held out his hand expectantly for the key.
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Nancy suddenly looked nervous. “Victor said to put you in number three.”
“I guess Victor must have forgotten what it’s like to be in love.” Reno gave Nancy his best slow sexy smile and winked. Damn, if he were really engaged to Brandi there was no way in hell they’d have separate rooms.
The woman flushed. “Well, I suppose it will be all right… ”
“Thanks.” He tugged the key from her reluctant hand. “I’ll just put my things inside and then go find Brandi. Any idea where she might be?”
“Won’t you be wanting something to eat first? I can fix you a quick bite if you’re hungry. The Star Gazer serves a good meal.”
“No thanks, I ate when I got off the plane.” Reno shouldered his bag while declining her offer. He noticed she’d avoided his question about where Brandi was so he prompted her again. “And where will I find Brandi?”
“She’ll be here in a while. You know you really should stay here and rest a spell after your long trip. There’s a coffee maker in the room and if you need anything just ring the front desk. I’ll be happy to help you.” The woman called the information after him as he headed towards the rooms, having decided an answer to his question wouldn’t be forthcoming. He gave her a negligent wave but didn’t look back, merely finding the correct room and then shutting the door firmly behind him.
Nancy Campbell seemed friendly enough Reno thought to himself. She was nervous though, and obviously trying to delay him. Had the Alpha given her strict orders to follow or was she hiding something? Or perhaps both? When dealing with humans, it was easy to detect deception; they had no skill in controlling their breathing, no idea of the scent of a lie. With Lycans it was another story, they were better able to hide their deceit from each other. It was never completely gone but harder to determine among the vast array of other emotions the individual might be simultaneously experiencing.
He looked around the room Brandi had been staying in. It was unremarkable but adequate with a bed, dresser, table, two chairs, and small TV. Typical economy class decor. What did catch his attention however, was Brandi’s scent. It had hit him as soon as he walked in and his wolf was instantly alert, testing the air and looking for signs of her.
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Tossing his bag on the bed, he picked up a pillow and sniffed. She’d been here but the scent was at least a day old. Now why would that be? He grabbed the pillow from the other side but it was obvious she hadn’t used it. Letting it drop to the bed, he cursed softly. Where had she slept if not here last night? There were several innocent explanations. She might have stayed with a friend, or room service could have changed the pillow cases; though Reno doubted either was the truth. His gut was telling him the Alpha had kept her, possibly in a detention centre, for the night.
He clenched his jaw and fought to keep a grip on his temper. If the man had hurt Brandi, even a scratch, he didn’t think he’d be able to control himself. His wolf rumbled, happy with the idea of taking swift action but Reno knew he couldn’t act on the thought. As a visitor in another pack’s territory, he had to tread lightly and use the same protocols he would if he were here in an Enforcer capacity. Diplomacy and forethought would yield better results than just rushing in blindly and starting a fight.
But not nearly as satisfying, his wolf complained.
Reno agreed with the creature even while chastising it. Behave, he said sternly, or Brandi could end up in even more trouble than she’s in already.
The creature didn’t like it, but reluctantly agreed, sinking down and resting its chin on its paws.
With his inner wolf under control, Reno decided to go in search of Brandi. He slipped out of his room and looked around. A few vehicles were in the parking lot besides his own; however, since they were near the diner, he assumed the occupants were inside eating rather than guests at the motel.
Guests. He snorted at the idea. Who would want to come to a two-bit town like this, he wondered. Frowning, he rubbed his chin thoughtfully; the exterior had the appearance of being rundown, but the room was relatively well-maintained.
Reno strolled past the other units, pausing to sniff near each door. None of the rooms had the stale scent that so often accompanied a place left shut up for extended periods. Someone must be using them on a fairly regular basis, but who? Visiting friends and relatives? Vacationers? It didn’t seem likely there’d be enough business even to pay for keeping the place open. Something didn’t add up here. He tucked the facts into the back of his mind to puzzle over at a later date. Right now his priority was locating Brandi.
Thankfully no one was around to question where he was going. Instinctively he knew the pack would not appreciate him moving about unescorted. Since skulking movements were more likely to draw attention, he set off at a bold, brisk pace. Act like you belong and no one will question you. It was one of the basic rules of investigation yet so few ever remembered to follow it.
A myriad of scents assaulted his nostrils and he carefully catalogued them in his mind for future reference. Male, middle age. Female, same. Young male, lower rank, older female… When he finally came across Brandi’s soothingly familiar scent it was all he could do to not stop and revel in it. Without letting his pace falter, he subtly altered his path from heading towards the grouping of houses to the main street instead.
His wolf urged him to hurry, to break out of his deliberate pace and find Brandi as quickly as possible, but it wouldn’t do to be seen racing through the streets. Following the scent, he found himself outside the town hall, a long, rectangular brick structure well over a century old according to the date on the cornerstone.
He circled around, eyeing the windows and doors. Despite its age, it was well maintained. The windows had recently been replaced as had the doors and it appeared to have several security features as well. That’s strange, he thought. Why would a small Lycan community be concerned about security? Crime within a pack seldom involved break and enter or theft.
Having gathered all that he could from the exterior, Reno started to climb the five steps that led to the front door. The building was slightly raised, indicating a partial underground structure, likely a simple cellar for coal or wood or maybe even a storm shelter.
A patch of faded wood to the side of the steps caught his attention. It was a hatch, almost completely concealed by the overgrown bushes that flanked the stairs. The hatch, of course, must lead to the cellar but was there an opening in the cellar that led up into the building? If there was, it might prove useful.
Pausing on the steps, he tested the air. Brandi’s scent was clear. Was she inside the building or perhaps being held in the cellar? There was only one way to find out. Pushing the front door open, he entered.
Chapter 18
Brandi fumed as she paced the small room she’d been locked in since the previous night. After Victor had dragged her down the road, he’d taken her to the town hall and placed her in one of the back rooms. It was small and windowless, and contained two chairs, a table, and a lumpy lime green sofa that smelled musty. She wrinkled her nose as she recalled her futile attempts to sleep on it.
This was a ridiculous situation to be in. Locked up, the next best thing to jailed, all because she’d made a phone call! She cursed herself for the rookie mistake she’d made. Why hadn’t she waited until she got back to her motel room before making the call? What had been the rush? An hour more or less would have made no difference.
She knew the answer, of course. She’d wanted to talk to Reno. Five days away and she felt like a druggie going cold turkey. Her nerves were shot. Her reactions were bad. Even her judgement was impaired. At Headquarters, she might not have seen him every day but at least he was in the building. She’d catch glimpses of him walking down the hall or hear his voice around a corner. Even when he was away on an assignment his scent had lingered, vaguely comforting while she waited impatiently for his return.
Aiming a kick at the repulsive sofa, she glared at the locked door wondering when someone would come to check on her again. So far, visitors had been few and far between. At least she wasn’t totally alone. There was a small air grate near the ceiling that connected to the room next door and through it she’d discovered her fellow captive, Peter Channing. It had been a relief to learn he was relatively unharmed—worried over what was happening to his family and, by his own admission, a few pounds lighter—but considering the possible alternatives, he was doing okay.
When she’d first heard Peter’s tentative whispered calls, she’d thought she had somehow let down her guard and tapped into Reno’s mind, something she tried to avoid doing both for ethical reasons and her own emotional health. But when her name was repeated with increasing urgency, she’d realized the sound wasn’t in her head but coming from the grate in the wall.
Peter had heard the commotion when she was brought in—she hadn’t come along quietly and she knew Victor sported at least one bruise on his shin if not more. Familiar with his jailers’ routines, Peter had bided his time until he was sure all the Lycans had left the building and then made contact. According to him, there were several other humans in the building as well, all being held in the old jail section near the back. Being one of the last ones ‘collected’ there’d been no room for him in the cells, so he’d been put in his present location instead.
Grateful to have someone to talk to, Peter had filled her in on the pack’s decline from simple conservatism to the state it was in now. He still held out hope that not all the members completely prescribed to the Purists’ tenets. “After all,” he’d reasoned, “if they were all devoted believers, I’d likely be dead by now, right? There must be enough dissent among the pack to make Victor proceed with caution.”
Brandi was somewhat in awe of how calm the man was, but then again, he’d had weeks to think about the situation and work his way through his anger and disbelief into acceptance of this turn of events. Not that the man had turned belly-up and was meekly waiting his fate. He just wasn’t wasting his energy on useless emotions.
“If worse comes to worse, I have an escape plan,” he’d shared.
Brandi had pressed closer to the wall as his voice fell into an even softer whisper. “There’s a floor grate in my room under the bookshelf in the
corner. It leads to the cellar below.”
“What?” If a wall hadn’t been separating them, she’d have stared at him as if he were insane. “Then why haven’t you used it?”
“Because my mate and pups are still in this town. If I escape, Victor will take it out on them and the other families.”
She’d bit her lip and nodded to herself. The Langstaff case came to mind. It was now a text book example of the extremes of what could happen to those left behind.
“So you’re just going to keep waiting until… ?”
“There’s more. You see… ”
But he’d never finished the sentence. Footsteps had echoed in the hallway as Walt arrived to inspect his prisoners. Brandi had sunk down to sit on the floor, trying to appear as if she was just dozing. When the door cracked open she’d looked up, blinking and yawning.
Walt had stood silhouetted in the doorway. “Why are you on the floor?”
“The sofa’s too soft and lumpy.”
He jerked his head towards the wooden chairs by the table. “Then sit over there.”
“Too hard,” she’d quipped back.
“What are you? Some red-headed Goldilocks? Too soft, too hard… ” He’d mimicked in a falsetto voice.
“And this floor is just right.” She’d finished with a smirk, patting the wooden surface.
Walt had flicked a glance up towards the air grate and then at her but she’d pretended not to notice, instead yawning and stretching some more.
“Go sit on the sofa and stay there,” he’d demanded.
“Fine. But if I’m Goldilocks, then you’re an awfully crabby papa were-bear.” She’d grumbled and made a fuss trying to distract him from thinking too much about why she’d been sitting directly under the grate that connected to the other prisoner’s room.
“Stop being a smart-ass or I won’t bring you any breakfast.”
“Will it be porridge?” She’d asked wide-eyed. “Make sure mine isn’t too hot or too cold. Okay?”