Page 362 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

Chapter 4

Finding the tourists wasn’t hard. The brand-new stench of their hunting gear and squeaky-clean rubber of their shoes surrounded them, giving Jarrad’s enforcers an obvious starting point in their search for the two men. It was a simple matter to follow their trail from the guns and ammo store to the real estate agency. Vicky didn’t need any persuading to share the address of the rental they’d hired for the season.

By the time Jarrad relieved his packmates of their watch, his wolf was jittery. Rolling under his skin.

Most city slicker hunters came out this way to chase wild boar, thinking it made them appear more manly. They brought the latest gadgets, green dogs with no idea how to hunt, and scared themselves into shooting anything that moved when they went out at night. They were allowed on only one property in the district, so they usually went home empty-handed after a few days. Jarrad’s wolves stayed at home until then.

These two were no different—the sparkling clean ute with the newly minted dog crate on the back was a dead give-away. As were the whimpers of the dogs tied up outside the house as Jarrad sauntered up the drive. His eyes glowed yellow in the moonlight and the mutts dropped to their bellies and displayed their throats.

Jarrad stopped to scratch them behind the ears, before stepping silently onto the porch. It wasn’t their fault their owners were idiots. The reek of stale sweat overrode the crisp scent of their new clothing. It wafted through the front door even before Jarrad slipped inside. Definitely idiots. You’d think they’d lock the door, even if they were in the country. Particularly after what they’d witnessed that morning.

“You send it yet, Jed?” The screech from the kitchen hammered his sensitive ears.

“It’s still uploading. Shouldn’t be long though,” Jed replied.

Jarrad thought back on the information Vicky shared. Jed Smith and… Keith. Keith Richards.

“How much did you say they were going to—”

Keith exited the kitchen and came face to face with Jarrad, eyes blazing yellow. A low rumble started in his throat. These greedy fuckers were about to harm his mate.

“Hello, Keith,” Jarrad snarled, fangs extended.

A sharp, ammonic scent drifted towards him. Even as he watched, a wet stain seeped down the inner seam of the man’s camo pants.

The coward pissed himself.

“How did you…?”

“Find you? You weren’t exactly hiding. Now—” With lightning speed, Jarrad had him by the throat against the wall. “What was it you said about being paid for the footage?”

The man’s mouth flapped like a fish gasping for breath on land. Jarrad eased the pressure enough for him to speak.

“Don’t. Know. Who,” Keith croaked. “Jed’s. Contact.”

The man had nothing for him. It was the one in the other room who mattered. Tightening his hands around the man’s throat, Jarrad loosened his grip when the man passed out. Keith landed with a thump in echoing silence.

No clicking of keys on a keyboard. No music blaring through earphones. Nothing.

His wolf howled inside at Jarrad for leaving the man alive, even as he moved on silent feet towards the room where the barest whisper of breath indicated the other man still lay in wait. Jarrad hovered in the doorway, waiting. A creak of the floorboard to the left of the door was all it took to have him moving.

Amateurs.

Jarrad slammed open the door to a sharp squeal, then curses from the man hiding behind it. The rifle he’d pointed at the door hung limply in Jed’s left hand, while the right cradled a bleeding nose. Jarrad’s wolf went wild, the threat to his mate and the scent of blood combining to tip him over into a half-shift.

Muscles rolled beneath his skin, his gaze sharpened, and time seemed to freeze as claws emerged from his fingers, straight into the man’s shoulder. The rifle dropped from instantly nerveless fingers as Jed screamed in agony.

“Who did you send it to?” Jarrad growled around a mouth full of fang.

The man’s gaze flicked to the laptop still open on the coffee table. A cross framed by two bloody swords provided a backdrop to a ‘sent’ message notification. When he looked back at the Alpha, it was with fervent triumph.

“You’re too late. The Inquisition knows all about her now. They’ll be coming.”

Jarrad’s wolf could no longer be contained. With a howl that shook the window, his wolf burst through his skin, lunging at Jed’s throat.

It was a long time before the animal was satisfied the man was dead. Then it turned to the unconscious man in the hall.

Neither hunter would ever harm his mate again.

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