The KinKaid Wolf Pack Trilogy (19 page)

“Okay, here is what I've decided.” Evin stood, his fingers splayed on the conference table as he surveyed the men seated in front of him. The rumble of various conversations grew silent. “Over the next few days, I want a covert surveillance team formed for penetration of the Gregorson territory. I want to know where their weaknesses are and where their weapons are housed.” Evin straightened and faced his father. “Then we'll strike. Hit them when they least expect it. Take out a few of their reserves and show up on the alpha's doorstep—personally—and deliver the message that you don't fuck with the KinKaid pack.”

A few grunts of approval echoed from around the room. “Let's meet back here tomorrow afternoon. I want a list of recommendations on men for the team.” Evin scanned the table, taking in each man's nod of acknowledgment. “Excellent. We're done here for the night, then. I'd like to get home to my mate, as I'm sure you all would as well.”

Damn, he was tired. For Christ's sake, he'd had enough talk for one night. Evin zipped his leather jacket, shoved his hands into a matching pair of gloves, and exited the former alpha's home to head for his bike. He couldn't wait to pull Mason into his arms, take his partner's spicy scent deep into his lungs, and savor the peace his mate always brought to his soul. Evin straddled the seat of his Ninja and slid his helmet in place. Yeah, that moment couldn't come soon enough.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Evin roared up the short hill that took him into the two acres off the road and toward the cabin he shared with Mason. He rolled his bike under the open garage door and cut the engine. The space where Mason's BMW should have been parked was empty.

It was nearly eight o'clock, so where in the world was his mate?

Evin dismounted, yanked his helmet free, pulled his cell from his jacket pocket, and checked the display. No calls. No text messages.
Odd.
Evin shoved his phone back in his pocket and secured his helmet.

Where are you, Mason?

The cool night air was still as he neared the house, except for the steady crunch of gravel under his boots. With his heel on the first of two steps, he reached for the knob, but the door was already open. His gaze fell to the doorjamb. Frayed and splintered wood was all the remained of the section where the door would have locked. Evin's stomach twisted. His heart raced. Reflex had him going for the knife he kept stashed in his back jeans pocket. He flicked open the blade and nudged the door wider. The dry hinges whined under the stress of the oak's weight.

Evin placed one boot inside the door, fracturing more of the scattered glass littering the floor. He stilled with his back to the wall, listening for any signs of movement.

Nothing.

Moving farther into the cabin, Evin kept his knife out front and ready. The kitchen was a wreck. Every drawer ripped from its slide, the contents strewn across the room.
Son of a bitch.

The living space and bedroom hadn't fared any better. The place had been ransacked, but it appeared the bastards were long gone. Evin tucked his knife back in his pocket and shook his head, tamping down the growing rage inside him. He had to focus. Their home could be repaired, but first things first—he needed to find his mate.

He snatched the cell from his pocket again and speed-dialed Mason. After the fifth ring, voice mail.
Damn!
Evin tapped End Call, then quickly dialed the front gate.

The guard picked up on the second ring. “Good evening, Alpha. What can I do for you?”

“I need to know when Mason Thorne left the compound today.”

“One moment, sir.” The sound of paper shuffling followed, then silence. Protracted silence.
Fuck.
Evin was going to wear a groove in the den's floor if he didn't hear something soon. That, or judging from the crack he'd just heard coming from the plastic molding, he was going to need a new phone after he broke the one in his grip.

“Uh, sir... I don't show any record of Mr. Thorne exiting the property today.”

The sudden gallop of Evin's heart rate nearly staggered him. He drew in a steadying breath. “Are you sure? You don't see anything?”

“I checked twice, sir. But his vehicle isn't listed.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Evin mindlessly tapped the red End Call bar display and dropped the phone on the coffee table. Dragging both hands through his hair, he searched for an explanation. There was another way off the property. The six-foot-gated one-way exit required an access code, but it was a few miles from the cabin and not a direct path to the main road. Why would Mason have felt the need to hide his departure off the grounds? Unless...
They wouldn't go this far. Would they? Kidnap an alpha's mate?
It was fucking suicide, because he would personally rip the person's heart out who touched Mason.

Evin scooped his cell from the table and dialed Landry. The enforcer answered on the first ring.

“Michaels.”

“I need you here, ASAP,” Evin commanded, pacing. Automatically he glanced out the window for what had to be the tenth time, wishing like hell for Mason's headlights. “We have a situation. My home's been ransacked...and Mason's missing.” The line went dead. But Evin didn't give a shit about the man's phone etiquette. No chitchat meant Landry was on the move.

“They want a war...” Evin growled, his fist circling the toppled lamp on the end table. He reared his arm back and sent the piece hurtling across the room. The crash into the log wall sent bits of wood and glass spraying. Air sawed in and out of his lungs. “They'll fucking get one.”

Chapter Three

––––––––

“I
have two guests here you may be interested in talking with, Alpha.” Landry crossed the threshold into the cabin, followed by Kaleb along with two nude male shifters subdued by silver halos. The men clawed at the band around their throats, growling as they unwillingly trailed farther into the house. Mud caked their feet, and sweat streaked the dirt covering their faces and chests.

“Do come in.” Evin held the door wide open. “Where did you find them?”

“Right after I received your summons,” Landry began, “Kaleb called in and said his team had run down two trespassers attempting to slither back into Gregorson territory.” He shoved his prisoner down onto one of the kitchen chairs. The shifter hit the wood, releasing a grunt of displeasure. His buddy plopped down—with Kaleb's help—on the seat next to his partner in crime. Keeping a firm grip on the halo, Landry faced Evin. “The timing of their adventure onto KinKaid land seem like a bit of a coincidence to you, Alpha, with your home having been ransacked tonight?”

“Coincidence, my ass,” Evin spouted.

Landry chuckled. “Yeah,” he drawled. “That's what I thought.”

“Give me a second, and I'll get something to bind them with.” Evin darted into the bedroom, snagged a coil of rope from a bin under the bed, and returned to the kitchen. “Once I have their wrists tied, release the guiding rods from the halo. The silver will keep their strength suppressed enough that along with the bindings, it'll keep them in place.”

Evin grabbed the first man's hands and went to work. Once the knot was cinched tight, he glanced up at Landry. “Okay, this one's secured.” The enforcer met his gaze with a knowing grin. “What?”

“You keep your rope in there?” He tilted his head in the direction of the other room.

Evin lifted his brows and hit him with a glare that said
you gotta problem with that?
Landry got the hint, cleared his throat, and proceeded to wipe the grin off his face.

With both men secured to their seats, Evin circled around and stood in front of them. “Know that if you ever want to see Gregorson land again, you'll tell me where the hell my mate is.”

“We don't know what the fuck you're talking about,” the one on the right spit. “You've got nothing on us besides making a wrong turn in the forest at night.”

Before the bastard could flinch, Evin wrenched the other male’s head back by a fistful of dirty red hair. The intruder gasped under the hard tug at his roots, his mouth agape. In a dramatic display of imprinting the trespasser’s scent, Evin inhaled deeply along his neck.

“You don't think that I'd forget a stench like yours, do you, asshole?” Evin growled in his ear. “You were all over my home. What the hell were you after?” The alpha released his hold and shoved the male’s head away.

“I don't have to tell you shit,” Red snarled. “The Gregorson pack will never submit to you and your old man.”

“Never,” the other one joined in with equal venom.

“Submit to me?” Evin straightened. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Both men's mouths clamped shut.

“Someone's tongue better start wagging and telling me where Mason is, or I swear...” Evin lunged for Red's throat.

“Whoa! Evin!”

The sound of Mason's voice sent an electric jolt through Evin's veins, and he pulled his arm back. The back door slammed, and Evin spun around.

“What's going on?” Mason flung his keys onto one of the counters.

“Mason!” Evin marched toward his mate. “Where the fuck...?” He didn't wait for an answer. No way in hell. Evin had to touch him. Feel his mate and know he was alive. He reached out, grabbed him by his biceps, and hauled him against his chest. “Thank God,” he groaned. Damn, he felt so good in his arms. Evin sighed. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to breathe without each breath clawing its way past a fist of dread camped out behind his sternum. The one formed by the endless loops of what-ifs that had cycled inside his mind every second Mason had been gone.

“Hey, there. Missed you too,” Mason mumbled in his ear. “As much as I love you holding me—anytime—and for as long as you want, would you mind easing up for a moment and telling me what the hell is going on?”  He grunted and squirmed. “You're about to crack a rib.”

“Oh... Sorry.” Evin released him, raked his gaze over his mate—and swung. His fist landed with a
whack
into the other man's shoulder.

“Shit!” Mason bellowed and grabbed his arm. “Damn. That hurt.” He glared at Evin. “What was that for?”

“Son of a bitch. What were you thinking, disappearing on me like that?” Evin speared his fingers through his hair, spun, and addressed the enforcers. “Stand guard. I'll be right back.” Evin pivoted around, grasped Mason by his wrist, and ushered him toward the bedroom.

“Evin...” Mason tugged at his hold. “Evin, wait. I—”

As soon as they crossed into the room, Evin slammed the door and whirled Mason around. “Christ sakes, man, I thought you'd been kidnapped—or worse. Dead.” The word came out croaked. He couldn't help it. The last hour of constant fear had caught up with him. He cupped Mason's face. “Do have any idea what losing you would do to me?” Evin slammed his mouth onto Mason's.

Their teeth clicked; tongues licked and dueled for dominance. God, he was starved. Ravenous for the taste of his mate. Someone growled—Mason? Him? Who the fuck knew. But his partner gave back as good as he got. And judging by the coopery taste of blood in Evin’s mouth plus the raging hard-on grinding against his own, his mate was hungry for a piece of Evin as he was for Mason. Lust, adrenaline, and the blinding need to re-mark his mate had his head spinning like a fucking carnival ride.

Shit.
They couldn't do this. Not right now. Evin tore his mouth from Mason's and pushed back. “Don't. You. Move,” he growled.

“I'm not going anywhere.” Mason reached down and repositioned the significant bulge in his pants.

“Good.” Evin leveled his gaze on his partner and placed his hand on the doorknob. “See that you don't this time. We have some things to straighten out once I take care of the situation in the other room.”

“What
is
going on out there? You never did answer me.”

“Two males from the Gregorson pack broke in here earlier and trashed the place.”

“That explains a lot.” Mason’s gaze flicked around the room. “I was wondering if a damn tornado or something had come through here while I was gone.”

“Anyway. I'm planning to return one of them, but with a message for his alpha. If he wants the male back, Gregorson’s going to have to ask nicely—in person.”

“Shit. You think he'll come?”

Evin tossed Mason a smirk. “An alpha can't resist a challenge. This has gone too far, and we need to get to the bottom of this mess before it blows up in both our faces.”

Chapter Four

––––––––

M
ason sank onto the edge of the bed. How had things gotten so insane? He'd never seen Evin that rattled before.
Christ.
He would have never left to see his human family if he'd known how this would have affected his mate. But he'd left a note. Why hadn't he seen...?
Shit. The break-in.
Mason dropped his head in his hands and rubbed his face. The bastards had ripped their home apart, and Mason bet the note he'd left on the table along with it.

Ten minutes later, Evin stepped back into the room. “All right, that's been handled.” His gaze locked with Mason's. “Now you and I need to talk, Brown Eyes. Where were you? With all that went down last night, why would you ever leave without letting me know where you were going?”

“If you would have given me a moment to explain, I'd have told you I left a note on the table before heading out.” Mason stood, walked over to the dresser, and shoved one of the drawers shut with a
bang
. Evin's tone threatened to piss him off. In his head, Mason knew his mate’s reaction came from a place of fear for his safety. But still...

“I never saw a note. What note?”

Mason turned and faced Evin. “I'm sure it got buried in all the disaster that's now our kitchen.”

“Where did you go? And why didn't you just text or call me?” Evin moved closer.

“Because you had more important things to handle this morning. You didn't need to be interrupted or worried about what was going on with me.”

“Don't ever say that,” Evin growled. “Nothing matters more to me than you.” He grabbed Mason by the arms, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Do you get that?”

“But—” Mason shook his head.

“Stop!” Evin snapped. “You will always come first. I want to know and understand everything that's going on inside your head. Now tell me what's going on?”