A Bleacke Wind (Bleacke Shifters Book 3) (34 page)

Now he knew exactly where they were. If they looped around this building, they’d be at the meeting spot.

They were making their way there when a pickup truck pulled in behind the building, towing what looked like a wood chipper. It backed up to the pile of mulch and two men jumped out and ran to the building. They returned less than a minute later with pitchforks and started moving part of the mulch pile, taking several inches off the top.

Two other men, one of them the driver, and a woman had also gotten out of the truck’s cab. Manuel stopped his men and watched as the man who wasn’t the driver fired up the wood chipper and the woman dropped the truck’s tailgate.

Fuuuck.

A sick feeling filled him as he suspected what was coming.

Carlos and Guillermo both froze, softly swearing as they watched the people proceed to shove the bodies of four men through the wood chipper.

His
men.

The gruesome debris landed on the mulch pile. Then the other two men covered the bloody area of the mulch pile with clean mulch, while the woman jogged away. The driver fetched a hose and started hosing out the wood chipper. Manuel could see they were all armed, two of them with holsters visible on their hips.

They didn’t dare try to go up against them.

Manuel struggled not to throw up. “Back to the car,” he whispered. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

His men turned and ran.

They were nearly back to the campground when he heard vehicles and shouting ahead of them.

“Fuck!” Carlos whispered. “They found our car!”

“Dammit.” If the people wouldn’t hesitate to run his men through a wood chipper, they’d probably tortured them before they killed them. And who knew how much info they’d pulled from them.

More shouts, and now the frantic, excited howls of wolves filled the air. Below them, the campground came to life as if someone had kicked an ant pile.

“We need to steal a car,” Manuel said, turning. But his men were already running down toward the campground.

“Fuck!” He followed them.

Unfortunately, he lost sight of them in the trees and before long was completely separated. All around them, he heard the sound of wolves howling, as if there were dozens nearby.

Fuck it.
They wanted to abandon him? He’d get himself out of there. Keeping low, he worked his way toward what looked like a parking area. He was shivering in the damp cold, his pulse racing as he struggled against his fear.

Absolutely, this had been the wrong plan.

He was almost to the parked cars when he heard gunshots ring out somewhere behind him.

Throwing caution to the wind, he started trying vehicles. The third one, a truck, was unlocked. He climbed in and locked the doors, staying down and out of sight. There was a man’s jacket and baseball cap lying on the passenger seat. He quickly put them both on and slowly sat up, the gun in his lap.

In the distance, and now he knew the stress had gotten to him, he swore he saw a naked man suddenly turn into a…wolf.

He blinked, but the wolf—or mirage—had dashed into the woods.

What the hell? I’m losing my mind!

As he looked around, he pulled down the driver’s visor and a set of keys fell into his lap.

Finally!

He looked up again to see two wolves appear from the woods…and then turn into a naked man and woman who raced for a nearby RV.

Stress. It’s stress. And fear.

Starting the truck, he quickly pulled out of the parking area and followed the signs to find his way out of that madhouse.

* * * *

Dewi helped Trent and the other two men sling the four bodies into the back of the truck.

The dead men didn’t deserve respectful treatment. They’d come to murder one of theirs, and likely would have hurt innocents if they’d gotten in their way. All over a fucking murdering child rapist.

Fuck. Them.

As far as she was concerned, they were nothing but garbage and would be disposed of as such.

Raul Segura hadn’t given Felicia Escobar any respect.

No quarter given. Not to people on the sides of child rapists.

When all four bodies were loaded, Dewi closed the tailgate.

“Where to?” the truck’s owner asked.

Trent glanced down at the back bumper, at the empty receiver hitch socket. “You have your hitch with you?”

“Yeah?”

“We need to pick up the wood chipper from my place,” Trent said. “I was using it. For brush,” he added. “I was clearing out more space for Asia’s garden a couple of weeks ago.”

“Where do you want to take ’em? I got some thick woods, deep brush I haven’t cleared out lately, behind my house.”

“No, I don’t want this on anyone’s personal property. The large maintenance building over by the great hall. There’s a huge mulch pile there, a fresh one. We just cleared some more land over in Campground B and mulched everything there to keep for spreading on the roads and in the campgrounds. We’ll dig it out a little, do it there, and then cover it back up. And we can hose the chipper out there.”

The guy had a crew cab, so they all fit. Dewi sat in back with Trent’s two guys. She didn’t speak, watching out the windows for any sign of the other car.

Thirty minutes later, it was done, and still no sign of Ken and Nami. While Trent and his guys were hosing out the chipper, Dewi jogged back over to the great hall.

“Anything?”

Peyton stood at the table with two other guys. He grimly shook his head as he studied the map. “Not yet. I’ve got a sweep working north from the main road. We’ll find them, and they won’t get out. Everyone coming out is being looked at, every vehicle checked, every RV searched to make sure no one’s hiding in them. People staying in the campgrounds are being taken to whatever central building is there and head counts are being done as more people are brought in from the wild. These guys cannot hide forever.”

“What if they went off-road?”

“They’re in a car, not an SUV. They’d get stuck almost immediately.”

“It’s going to be dark soon.”

“I know.”

Trent entered the great hall. “Done. Good riddance to bad garbage.”

Dewi turned to him. “You can track Ken’s pack credit card, right?”

“Uh, yeah. I run expense reports. Why?”

“Pull it. Now. Pull the records.”

“Why?”

“Because they would have been in Spokane hours ago. If there’s nothing, they didn’t make it. If they did make it, we’ll know approximately where they are.”

“Shit. I need a vehicle.”

One of the other men tossed Trent his own keys and Trent ran out the door with Dewi on his heels.

She climbed in the passenger side and cursed her stupidity. If she’d thought of that a couple of hours ago, they would have known if Ken and Dewi had made it to Spokane already.

Fifteen minutes later, Trent yelled for Asia as he ran through his front door. He was powering up his laptop in his home office, Dewi hanging over his shoulder, when Asia came up from the basement to check what was going on. She wore a handgun holstered on her hip.

“Are they all done, then?” Asia asked.

That was one of their more harmless codes to ask if the bad guys were dead, in case Nami’s family members were listening in.

“No,” Trent said as he pulled up the credit card site. “Four down, seven to go, including at least three we know for sure are still in the compound in another vehicle. You all stay here, stay downstairs.”

“I need to feed everyone dinner.”

“Then you and Gillian and Charles and Kent come up here. Have Art and Chelsea stay downstairs. Are they armed?”

“Are they our children?” Asia drawled.

“Good. They can stay downstairs with Nami’s family. Have Charles and Kent watch the windows while you and Gillian make dinner and take it downstairs. I don’t want anyone upstairs any longer than necessary while this is going on.” He pulled up their pack account, and Dewi didn’t need to read Trent’s mind to interpret his expression.

“Nothing, right?”

He looked up at her. “Shit, Dewi. I—”

“We need to have people searching. Ken and Nami aren’t armed. Goddess only knows where the fuck they ended up.”

“I’ll have Web go back to the store and pull the cars’ plate numbers from the security video and have Akins run them.”

“Why the hell isn’t his ass in here searching?” she grumbled.

“Because someone needs to man the store, so to speak. There are clueless humans in the area. He sent three of his deputies in to help search, packmates. He can’t leave the rest of the area without law enforcement coverage.”

“Gimme your keys,” Dewi said.

Trent tossed her the keys to his personal truck, which was parked outside.

She headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To go look for my mate.”

Trent’s phone rang and Dewi froze, turning.

“Hold up. It’s Peyton.” He answered. “Yeah?” She watched his expression darken. “Okay. Thanks. Will do.”

“What?”

“Web, Joaquin, and the others just called in. They went to check out a car parked in the turn-out down the road south of town. The one hikers always use. The guy Web sent before apparently wasn’t thinking. He was so intent on finding Nami and Ken’s car that he didn’t think to mention the one sitting parked at the turn-out. He thought it was just another hiker, or one of ours.”

She walked closer. “And?”

“Joaquin said he’s almost positive it’s the other four cartel men. It smells like them. They’re having a hard time finding the scent, though. Between the snow and traffic that’s come through, it’s diluted the trail.”

She bolted for the door.

“Peyton ordered us back to the great hall,” Trent yelled.

“Tell Peyton he can go fuck himself,” she called back.

“You need to get Beck and take him with you.”

She slid to a stop, then turned. “Why?”

“To go with you to help look. It’s his mate out there, too.”

She hated logic. “
Fine
.”

She slammed the front door behind her and ran for the truck, not caring that she kicked up a rooster tail of dirt when she reversed out of his yard and then floored it on her way back to the great hall.

She had just pulled up in front of the great hall and was going to hit the horn when Beck came jogging out. Then, he stopped, frozen, and turned.

She rolled down the window and that’s when she heard it over the sound of the truck’s engine.

Gunshots.

He yanked the front door of the great hall open, screamed at everyone inside, and then ran for the truck.

“Campground B,” Beck said.

“We need to—”

“There’s over thirty human mates and fifty kids there, in addition to non-shifters and shifters. That’s where the shots are coming from.”

“Dammit.” She floored it, fishtailing on the dirt road before getting it straightened out and heading east.

Behind them, people emptied from the great hall like ants out of a nest and were falling in behind them in their vehicles.

“I’m going to enjoy killing these fuckers,” Dewi growled.

“Let someone else take the final shots, if you can. We can’t waste time getting food in you.”

She hated when they used logic on her.

Fucking
haaated
it.

Especially when it made damn sense.

* * * *

By the time Dewi and Beck arrived, the shooting was over. She pulled up next to a gathered group of their people and shoved through the crowd.

Two men lay dead on the ground.

Men who smelled like the other men they’d killed.

“What happened?” she asked one of the guys.

“We found the car a couple of minutes ago, parked over there, near the campground.” He pointed. “These two came out of the woods at Lucille Parker.”

He pointed across the way to the woman, who stood there with a pump shotgun in her hand and dark look on her face. The old wolf lived in the compound full-time with her human husband, and she’d just celebrated her two hundredth birthday the year before.

“Good work,” Dewi said. “There should be a third.”

“It was just these two,” Lucille said. “I dropped them before they even saw me.”

“Spread out,” Dewi ordered. “Someone call Trent and get him over here with the truck to add them to the mulch pile.”

She searched the bodies and removed guns, mags, wallets, phones, and jewelry from the men, handing the stuff off to Beck to take back to the truck.

“Everyone, sweep through the campground. Check every tent, every trailer, every RV. We’re close to getting this last bastard. He couldn’t have gotten far.”

* * * *

On guard at the entrance to the pack compound, Cord Jackson saw Ben Coarsely’s truck approaching at the end of the line of vehicles, the Nevada plates and that horrible baseball cap the man always wore unmistakeable.

“Just wave him through,” Cord told the other guys. “I know him. He’s here for the Muster.”

He raised a hand in greeting and Ben waved back.

“How long we gotta stay out here tonight?” one of the other guys asked Cord.

“Until Peyton tells us otherwise.”

* * * *

Manuel kept his head down and the collar of the jacket turned up as he fell into line behind several other vehicles heading toward the entrance. He knew if he tried to speed past them it would likely draw suspicion and attention.

When he passed the other rental car, he saw it sitting on two flat tires, meaning all four were likely flattened.

Dammit.

No telling how long ago these people had discovered that. All he could hope now was that he could catch up to Jose and the others. He tried calling them when his phone regained a signal, but all his men’s phones went to voice mail.

Which, in this shithole wilderness, he knew didn’t mean anything.

He silently swore as he saw armed men at the entrance slowing vehicles as they approached before letting them out. He kept one hand on the steering wheel and one on the gun in his lap.

He’d go out fighting, if necessary.

But as he approached, one of the men raised a hand in greeting, as if he recognized the vehicle, and waved him through. Manuel had enough sense to let go of the gun and raise his hand without looking at the guy.