For the Good of All (Law of the Lycans Book 7) (45 page)

Stone patted his pocket then remembered he didn’t have a phone with him. Saul had taken it. Sighing he looked around for a likely spot to steal one. Damn, he was turning into a bloody thief! There was an outdoor cafe complete with a bar near the beach. Lots of men chatting up the ladies. He spotted an unguarded cell phone and took up a position near it, leaned against the bar as if checking the place out.

Sorry, buddy, he silently murmured to the hapless owner. I hope you don’t have a lot of holiday pictures on this. A second later he’d palmed the phone and was walking away with it.

Pushing his conscience aside, Stone found a secluded spot and placed the call.

“Reno. It’s me.”

“Where the hell are you, Stone?”

“Nice to hear from you, too, Reno.”

“Cut the crap. Last time I talked to you, you said you were drugged. When a team arrived you were nowhere in sight. I didn’t know what to think.”

“I’m fine. You’re just turning into an old woman. Did you get Saul?”

“Yeah. He’s still sleeping off whatever you gave him.”

“I’ve no idea what it was. When he wakes up, you can ask him.”

“Oh, we’ll have questions for him. Or at least the FBI will. Dante’s getting hold of his contact and arranging a drop.”

Stone turned to survey the area around him. No one was near; he could talk freely. “Lycan Link working with the FBI boggles my mind.”

“Dante plays both sides. They’ve no real idea what he really is.”

“Things could get messy if that ever happened.” He switched topics. “I overheard Saul saying they were expecting a shipment of children’s organs. He had to be talking about the orphanage where I found Christina.”

“You found her in an orphanage? Isn’t she too old for that?”

“I’ll explain later.”

“Should be interesting. Anyway, with Saul out of the picture, the deal can’t go through.”

“That’s what I’m hoping, but with Dee you can never be too sure.”

“Dee?”

“Deirdre. She’s part of this mess, too. And Emilio Mendoza, the drug lord. I have a bad feeling about all of it. As soon as it gets dark, I’m heading back.”

“Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“Will do.”

Stone hung up and pocketed the phone. He might need one again.

The sun was setting, the resplendent reds and oranges reflecting on the shimmering water. A short walk along the beach seemed to be in order. He’d be in place when it was time to grab the boat.

He paid no attention to the hand-holding couples strolling along the water’s edge. Romantic nonsense wasn’t for him. Hunching his shoulders, he kept his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. Waves lapped up onto the shore, washing away the remnants of the day’s activities; footprints, sandcastles, elaborate sand carvings, they all fell victim to the incessantly rising tide. That’s how he felt right now. Like everything in life was constantly beating him down, slowly eroding everything he’d worked for. Each time he met one challenge another arose. His last mission, just when it seemed everything was going to turn out right, disaster had struck and he’d lost Adisa. He’d returned to the States to find Virtus ruined. And now would history be repeating itself? What was waiting for him back in Cantala? If something happened to Christina, he’d be completely lost.

When you think you’ve lost everything, you have to keep going. Once you give up, the enemy wins. That’s what Adisa would have told him. An image of her formed in his mind; tiny, worn but with a warm spirit and intelligent eyes, his mentor, his friend. She’d be the first to kick him in the butt for his current line of thinking. Damn, he missed her.

As long as someone is remembered, they are never truly gone.
His wolf chided him for his melancholy.
They live inside you. The experience of having known them makes you stronger and wiser.

True. And he wasn’t giving up, he was just bone-weary tired. He’d make his way back to Cantala, deal with Deirdre, take Christina back home and then… His future was too nebulous at this point. Better to stay focused on the present which meant—he glanced at the now dark sky—stealing a boat.

He ducked under the pier and headed into the water. He’d swim to the boat, loosen the moorings and row out of the marina under the cover of darkness. When he was well into clear water he’d use the motor and make his way across the channel to Cantala. With any luck, he’d be back at the orphanage by morning.

Sister Bernita pinned a smile on her face as she listened to the demands of her difficult guest.

“I want to leave. Now.” Sister Denise had her hands planted on her hips. She was obviously used to getting her own way.

“I sent one of the men, Diego, into town as soon as it was light. He will return in a few hours with tires for your vehicle.”

“A few hours? At ten o’clock, I’m supposed to be leaving—with three children, I might add—for Santa Marietta.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. It takes over an hour to drive into town. Diego must get the tires, run a few errands for me and then it will be another hour’s drive back here.”

“That is completely unsatisfactory.”

“I’m sorry but—”

“Do you have any idea how much this will cost me? The families were going to pay a substantial amount for the children.”

“If they truly wish to adopt, then I’m sure they will understand.”

Sister Denise opened her mouth and then closed it. Her gaze seemed fixed on some distant point. “Someone is coming.”

Sister Bernita looked towards the gate, frowning. “I don’t see anyone. Ah,” her face cleared, “it is señor Esteban.”

“Esteban? Who is he to you?”

She ignored the rudeness of the woman’s question. “A local gentleman who stops by from time to time.” For once Sister Bernita was pleased the man was here. He might provide a distraction for Sister Denise.

Esteban approached. The man never looked pleased to visit but today he seemed actually churlish. “Sister Bernita, I see you have company.”

“Yes, this is Sister Denise from the Brothers of Virtue. It’s a missionary group that has been sponsoring us. I believe I told you about them.”

“Yes, you did. I never realized exactly to whom you were referring.” He stared at Sister Denise, his face cold, hard.

“You know each other?” Sister Bernita looked between the two sensing an undercurrent between them and it was definitely not amicable.

“We know
of
each other, though we’ve never actually met,” Sister Denise corrected.

“Well, perhaps you two would like to become better acquainted. I have to—” A hail from the gate interrupted her. “What? More visitors? This place is becoming like Grand Central Station. I’d better go see who it is.” She hurried away.

Tina had been watching the proceedings from the window of the infirmary. She’d been doing her best to avoid Sister Denise. The woman was sure to demand an explanation of her unusual scent and she’d yet to think of a reasonable explanation that didn’t involve details she’d prefer not to share. With Esteban here, she felt braver and stepped outside, shamelessly listening in to the exchange going on.

“Why are you here, dog?” Esteban curled his lip.

“I have business to conduct.” Sister Denise arched a brow. “What’s your excuse, pussy-cat?”

“This is my territory. I keep close tabs on who is in it and what they are up to.” Esteban looked her up and down. “I’ve been watching you and I don’t approve of how you are using my humans.”

“Your
humans?” The nun laughed. “Why so possessive of them? It’s not like you don’t have more than you need.”

“I do not need to justify myself to anyone, especially not to the likes of you. I want you gone. Today.”

“I’d like nothing better than to be out of this hovel. I’m waiting for new tires.” She turned to glare at Tina. “It’s her fault.”

Esteban shot a look at Tina and then redirected his gaze back to the other woman. “Regardless, I suggest you leave without your vehicle.”

“And walk back to the village? You must be joking.”

“I’ve been told I don’t have a sense of humour.”

A loud complaint from Sister Bernita drew everyone’s attention.

“You have no right to barge in here.” Sister Bernita was confronting someone. “I don’t want drug dealers anywhere near the children.”

Tina edged closer to Esteban. “Drug dealers?”

“That’s Emilio Mendoza, the local drug lord. He thinks he owns Cantala.”

“Step out of my way, Sister.” Mendoza brushed past her, making a bee line for Sister Denise. “There you are. You didn’t contact me as you said you would.”

“Sister Denise is an acquaintance of yours as well?” Sister Bernita hurried after the man.

Mendoza ignored her, focusing on the other nun. “Reyes is making his move. He’s invaded the northern quadrant and his men will be here within the hour.”

“Another turf war? The villagers have barely recovered from the last one.” Sister Bernita blanched.

Ignoring Sister Bernita’s query, Mendoza flicked a glance around the compound. “I’m making a strategic retreat but I’m not leaving Reyes a thing. Anything of value is being destroyed.” He gestured with his hand and a dozen armed men pushed their way through the gate. One of the guards tried to stop them. A shot rang out and the guard fell to the ground.

“No!” Sister Bernita moved to run towards the fallen man but Tina grabbed her arm, holding her back.

“Sister, don’t. They’ll shoot you, too.” Tina’s voice shook as much as her hands. What was going on?

Mendoza unknowingly answered her question. “Round up the children, I’ll take as many with me as I can and sell them on the black market. Kill everyone else.”

His men immediately scattered about the compound.

“No! Not the children!” Sister Bernita tore herself free and pleaded with Mendoza. “We’re just a poor orphanage. We have nothing of value, nothing at all. Please, kill me if you must but leave the children alone.”

“The children
are
of value. They’ll fetch a good price on the market.” Sister Denise stepped forward to stand by Mendoza. “I have several potential buyers lined up and access to even more.”

“My apologies, Sister. I no longer need you as a middleman.” Mendoza pulled out a gun and shot her at point-blank range.

Sister Denise gave one gasp and fell to the ground, a blood stain rapidly spreading across her chest. Sister Bernita screamed, her hands clasped in horror.

“The tarot cards, the nine of pentacles, warned me about a powerful woman.” Mendoza stared down at the dying woman. “I’d be a fool to leave you alive, waiting to stab me in the back at some future date.”

Esteban stood as if frozen, his hands clasped behind his back. Outwardly he was calm but Tina could see the flexing of his jaw, the fire building in his eyes. At Club Mystique, she’d seen similar looks on shifters just before they lost complete control. She understood exactly how he felt. She was shaking with a combination of fear and rage herself. What could one shifter and an ineffectual witch do against all of Mendoza’s men?

A sudden popping noise drew her attention. One of Mendoza’s men fell to the ground. Then another. And another. All around, they were dropping in rapid succession like ducks at a shooting gallery.

“¿Que?
What is going on here?” Mendoza quickly turned, his expression changing from self-assurance to shock.

Tina, Esteban and Sister Bernita looked around in equal surprise and then Tina spotted him. Stone!

He was near the shower stall, efficiently removing Mendoza’s men one by one. Hope surged in her, perhaps she even made a sound, for suddenly Mendoza grabbed her and pressed a gun to her temple.

“One move and I’ll blow her brains out!”

Stone froze, his finger on the trigger. He’d been about to take Mendoza out when the man had spotted him and grabbed Christina. Now they were in a standoff. Damn, if he’d only arrived sooner.

The trip across the channel had taken longer than expected. The outboard motor had died before he’d reached Cantala and he’d had to row the last leg of the journey. After hiding the boat in a small coastal cave, he’d let his wolf take over. A sense of urgency had the creature pushing the extent of its abilities to get here.

The country was in turmoil, pockets of fighting between the militias of the two warring drug lords, the government’s army randomly arresting and shooting anyone they thought looked suspicious, citizens trying to find safe haven. Homes and crops were being burnt as Mendoza attempted to carry out a scorched earth policy. Stone stopped a few times, quickly shifting forms and helping those his conscience couldn’t let him pass by; a pregnant woman and her child, an elderly couple. Once he was able to hand them off to someone, he’d slipped away, shifted and resumed his trek. His wolf ran faster, panting, tired.

We cannot rest
, his wolf gasped.
The witch and the orphans will need us to protect them.

When he’d finally arrived at the orphanage, Mendoza’s guards had been swarming all over the place. He’d managed to take out the men waiting by the gate and grabbed a rifle as well as a couple of spare magazines. Then he’d scaled the orphanage wall to find his current vantage point. Ignoring the bloody scratches on his arms and face, courtesy of the barbed wire that topped the wall, he quickly assessed the situation.