Page 35 of Honey Heat
“That ends today. Deputy Gilmore willfully and with malice attempted to murder one of our own. He’s working with those who tortured Ethan McCade and threatened others under my protection.”
The silence in the room was absolute now, every wolf sensing the shift in their alpha’s stance.
“I am rescinding my order to leave the corrupt cops of Blackthorn untouched,” Matias declared. “Be discreet, but understand they are no longer under my protection. If Gilmore and his associates want a war with the Salvador pack, we will give them one they won’t survive.”
A collective growl of approval rumbled through the tavern. Lucio felt his wolf rise to the surface, eager for justice, for vengeance.
“Our priority is identifying and locating the man in the suit,” Matias continued. “Lucio, I want you working with Raphael on this. Use every resource we have.”
“Already on it,” Lucio confirmed, thinking of the security footage he’d recovered.
“The rest of you, keep your eyes open. Travel in pairs. Watch for hyenas or suspicious police activity.” Matias’s gaze swept the room once more. “And if you encounter Gilmore... make him regret his choices.”
* * * *
Awareness returned in small, painful bursts. Beeping machines pulled Chopper toward consciousness, while an antiseptic smell burned his nostrils. His eyelids felt weighted with lead as he struggled to lift them.
When he finally managed to crack them open, light stabbed his pupils. Chopper squinted, trying to adjust to the light. When he could manage to keep them open, he glanced around, the blurry shapes slowly coming into focus. Why was he at the clinic? Turning his head, he spotted Santiago sitting beside the bed, his attention glued to his phone.
“What’s going on?” Chopper’s voice came out as a raspy croak. “Why am I at the clinic?”
Santiago’s head snapped up. “About fucking time you decided to rejoin us.” He pocketed his phone and leaned forward. “How you feeling, hermano?”
Chopper tried to shift positions, but fire lanced through his midsection. He hissed, glancing down to find thick bandages wrapped around his torso. “Like absolute shit. What the hell happened to me?”
Had he laid down his bike? Gotten hit by a truck? Fallen into an open manhole? Got wasted and lost a fight? Searching his memory, he got nothing.
Santiago reached for a cup of water, helping Chopper take a sip before answering. “Deputy Gilmore shot you. In broad daylight, right on County Road 8.”
Chopper still had to be dreaming because there was no way he’d heard Santiago correctly. “Shot me? Gilmore?”
The deputy’s name triggered something in his brain, flashes of memory trying to surface—sunlight glinting off a metal, his saddlebag, a blue sky. The images slipped away before he could fully grasp them. “I was on my bike... I stopped for something...”
His mind felt foggy, the memories fragmented and scattered. Something important nagged at him. Something he needed to remember. He closed his eyes, concentrating harder.
A high-pitched whine. Tiny paws scratching at leather.
Chopper’s eyes flew open. “The puppy! Where is she?” He tried to sit up, ignoring the searing pain that tore through his abdomen. “There was a puppy in my saddlebag. Little white thing with brown patches.”
Santiago pressed him back against the pillows. “Easy, man. You’re gonna tear your stitches. The puppy’s fine. Cesar’s got her.”
“I need to see her.” Chopper’s chest constricted as the heart monitor began to beep faster. “Now, Santiago! I need to make sure she’s okay.”
“Mierda. Calm down.” Santiago pulled out his phone. “I’ll text Cesar to bring her over. Just stop trying to get up before Martinez puts you in restraints.”
Chopper sank back against the pillows, breathing heavily through the pain. Why did he care so much about a puppy he’d only had for less than an hour? It made no sense, but the need to see her, to make sure she was safe, consumed him completely.
Time stretched as they waited, Chopper growing more agitated with each passing minute. His fingers gripped the sheets, the wall clock counting the seconds, while Santiago watched him with growing concern.
Finally, the door opened. Cesar walked in carrying a small bundle of fur. The puppy’s ears perked up when she spotted Chopper, her tiny body wiggling with excitement as she whined and pawed at the air.
Chopper’s throat grew tight, and he desperately wanted to hold her.
“The damnedest thing,” Cesar said while approaching the bed. “She wouldn’t eat until I brought your bloody jacket for her to sleep on.”
Because the smell of his blood was more potent than his scent on the jacket.
“Give her to me.” Chopper swallowed.
