Kintail glanced at Lila Grayson. She looked a little contrite for once and he frowned. "You were supposed to be watching Owen. David will do anything we say, but Owen... he's trouble. How many phone calls did he make before Trevor caught him? And twice, he's tried to escape. The only good thing about any of this is we're too remote for him to get word out, he doesn't know his way around out here, and he doesn't have a clue how to deal with the shapeshifting aspect." Kintail stared out one of the picture windows at the blowing snow, the cold so invigorating, even now he wanted to shift and run like the wolf he was.
He couldn't kill Owen, not yet. He knew the man needed some time to adjust. If only his partner, Cameron MacPherson, wasn't on the way to rescue Owen and David now. That's what was causing him all the heartburn.
Lila cocked her head in her arrogant way, yet he knew insecurities about something in her past fed her actions. Given time, he figured she would eventually come around.
"You shouldn't have changed them. Or at least David."
She smiled. "I don't think Owen's forgiven me for biting him."
Kintail liked it when she smiled, as if a part of her gentler nature was trying to reveal itself. But now wasn't the time to concern himself about his issues with Lila. Neither David or Owen had any family left in Seattle. Kintail hadn't thought one of their partners would look into the situation.
Kintail shook his head. "If we didn't have so many hunting parties scheduled for the next several weeks, we'd leave early for Yellowknife. Take them with us and isolate ourselves. But we can't split up the pack, and we can't leave right now. Not without hurting our business and ruining our reputation here."
He loved living here half of the year, flaunting what they were while the locals and tourists didn't have a clue. Except for the Cree in the area—they knew, but they revered the wolf, which worked to Kintail and his people's advantage. "I'm sure nowhere else in the States can a werewolf pack show off their pack members in broad daylight, anywhere and everywhere, and get away with it."
Lila stretched her arms above her head, then crossed them. "I agree, and that's what's so much fun about living here in the winter, being around people who are clueless as to what we are, thinking that our wolves are like old good-natured dogs. But what about this Cameron MacPherson? Can't we just change him, too?"
Kintail didn't care for the interest in Lila's tone of voice or the expression on her face. He knew her well enough to recognize she was intrigued with the man. Did she think maybe she could convince Cameron to take over the pack and then mate with her just because Kintail wasn't freely mating with her? Cameron? A newly turned lupus garou? She had to be nuts if she thought Kintail would lose against the newcomer. Besides, her secretive past was what was keeping her from letting Kintail get close to her. He doubted she could get close to Cameron anymore than she could with him.
"If he's coming to rescue his partners, he's sure to be an alpha. There's only one way to deal with him."
"Hmm, well, can't we just make an offer first? Then if he says no, whatever happens to him is his own damned fault?" she asked.
Kintail gave her a hard look.
She lifted a shoulder and pushed her hair back into a ponytail, and he inwardly groaned at how enticing the woman looked. "You're the boss of course. But it seems to me if we can get him to join us, that would be the best scenario." Then she curled her lips down, and he knew what was coming next. "What about the woman? She's been snooping around, asking about Trevor. Looking for information on her father's trip here."
"Trevor swore Kenneth O'Malley didn't see anything, but Hilson says he has evidence that her father saw one of us shapeshifting."
Lila sat down on one of the velvet couches. "So… my question, again, is what do we do with her? What we should have done with her father when he was here before, is my way of thinking."
Kintail gave Lila a sly smile. "She could make a nice addition to the pack." Lila had only joined his pack two years ago from a group in Finland. He still wasn't sure what her deal was, except she had been born a lupus garou like him. But she hadn't allowed any of his pack members to get close to her. Especially not him. Unless she thought she could get him to bend to her wishes. She really didn't know him that well. Yet.
"We have enough females in the pack," Lila snapped.
"We can never have enough females what with the shortages there are. Besides, Hilson wants to deal with her."
"Hmph, if he'd dealt with her when he first staked her old man out, we wouldn't have this new situation. What's your brother's problem? She's not too alpha for him, is she?"
Kintail rubbed his chin and looked back out the window. He wondered why his brother hadn't already taken the woman for his own. Maybe she was too alpha for him.
Cameron didn't see anything near the lake where he'd heard the man yell, although the way voices traveled, he might have been much farther away. But when the sound of snowmobiles started up at the cabins, his intuition imme diately kicked in, warning him something wasn't right.
He trudged through the knee-deep snow as fast as he could manage in the blowing wind, retracing his steps as much as possible to make it easier to run. The snowmobiles sounded like they were leaving the area around Faith's cabin. Which he assumed meant only one thing. At least two people were stealing them.
But as soon as he saw Faith racing around the side of her cabin half dressed, wearing no parka, gloves, or ski hat, shouting, "Bastards!" his heart nearly froze.
"Faith!"
She whipped around, her brows knit in a deep frown, her mouth curved down, her bare fists held tight at her sides. "They stole our snowmobiles!" She stiffly waved down the road.
"Go inside," he warned, as the snow covered her hair and stuck to her sweater, the wind still not subsiding, and he figured she'd catch pneumonia the way she was dressed.
She waded through the deep snow, stopped, looked down, then fished a cast-iron frying pan out of a snow drift, whisked around, and returned to the porch. In disbelief, he watched her. Hell, the woman was lethal. Despite the circumstances, he smiled, then hurried around the cabin and looked down the road. The snow mobiles were long gone.
When he stepped inside and closed the door, Faith was busily jotting down information. "Blue parka, black ski mask, scrawny build but tall, jeans, cowboy boots, black gloves, yellow goggles. Other guy—black parka, black ski mask, heftier, same approximate height, jeans, snow boots, brown gloves, 9mm," she muttered under her breath.
"One of the bastards had a gun?" Cameron pulled off his gloves, parka, and hat, setting each of them on the chair near the wood-burning stove, then lifted a blue floral towel she'd hung over the log footboard of the bed.
"Yeah, pointed it at me when I started chasing them."
"Before or after you pitched the frying pan at them?" He joined her and ran the towel over her wet hair. She melted a little under his ministrations, and he leaned over and kissed her cheek, her skin still cold. "Hell, Faith, didn't they ever teach you not to chase armed men when you don't have a weapon of equal or superior might?" he scolded, dropped the towel on a chair and pulled her tightly into his arms.
She turned her head and frowned up at him. "I didn't know he had a gun at first. Not until he pointed it at me. Bastards."
"The snowmobiles are insured."
"Well, yours has a slight dent on the tail end now. But it doesn't make me any less angry knowing they're insured."
"You hit my snowmobile?" He released her and began massaging her tense shoulders, her sweater soft, slippery, and springtime fragrant. She leaned into his touch, and he was ready to carry her off to bed, to sooth his frayed nerves… in his own way.
"I aimed for the guy, but that frying pan weighs a ton so it didn't have the lift I'd hoped for." She growled, then purred as he continued to massage. "Good thing you brought your stuff in or they would have stolen your gear, too."
"All I care about is they didn't steal you away." Even now his heart was still racing from worrying she might have come to harm. "Did they do anything other than take the machines?"
"Not that I saw. What about you? Did you find anyone in trouble out there?"
"It might have been a diversion to draw me away from the cabin. They might have suspected that if only one of us was here, they could steal the snowmobiles."
"One of us. You mean the weaker sex." She pulled away and dished up the spinach.
Chuckling, he squeezed her arm to reassure her he didn't feel that way in the least about her, then served up the salmon on hefty-sized dark brown plates. "Believe me, I don't want to ever make you that angry. Weaker sex? How much damage did you do to my snowmobile with that frying pan?"
She gave an evil smile. "At least if I see it again, I can recognize it better."
When they sat down to eat, Cameron wondered if his insurance or hers would cover the damage to his snow mobile given the circumstances for the bash. He was about to cut into his fish when he spied his couple-sized, down sleeping bag spread out over the mattress like a welcome mat through the open bedroom door. He tried to conceal his smile before she caught it, but what could he say? His motives were usually crystal clear when it came to women.
"Trying to take all your stuff to your cabin in this storm without the use of a snowmobile isn't a good idea," she said, matter-of-factly.
He nodded, very serious-like, as he took a bite of his salmon. But the thing of it was, she had to have laid out the sleeping bag earlier, before the machines were stolen. Had to have, because she wouldn't have had time to do it afterward without his catching her when he came inside.
"I wholeheartedly agree."
"Besides, you owe me breakfast and there's no way I'm traipsing in the cold all the way to your place at six in the morning to have it."