J. Tyler: Cole’s Redemption

“Coyote,” she hissed, and the bartender’s face registered shock.

“How did you . . . ? Nobody’s ever guessed!” she whispered.

Her laugh was low and sultry. “Not even the boys at the so-called research center?”

“Not even them.” She hesitated, fearful, and pushed a lock of hair from her face. “So you know about them, too?”

“I know what they really are,” she replied, not giving away too much.

“Because you’re the same?”

“Not exactly. I scented you and they didn’t, remember? But close enough.”

“What do you want from me?” The shock was passing, the coyote getting defensive now. She crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing Selene in suspicion.

Best to lay it on the table. “Information on the wolves at the compound.”

Jacee shook her head. “I work hard and mind my own business. I don’t make it a habit to get into other people’s.”

“You will this time, unless you want every shifter in the vicinity to know there’s a sweet little coyote bitch here, ripe for the picking.”

Defensiveness became seething anger. Casting a quick look around to be sure they weren’t drawing attention, Jacee snapped, “This coyote bitch doesn’t answer to skanky wolves.”

Selene gave the bartender a toothy smile as she started to leave the booth. “Oh, but it’s not me you’ll have to answer to. The other wolves are a different story, though. They’re regulars, right? I think they’ll be interested to know—”

“What can I possibly tell you? I don’t know anything about those guys!”

Gotcha. Selene resumed her seat. “You’re aware of more than you think. How many of them are there? How often do they come in?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know how many, exactly. At least ten, I’d say, plus a few others that aren’t on the team.”

“Team?” That word got her attention. She’d observed them in action from a distance, how they moved as a well-trained unit, but was still in the dark about their purpose. “Elaborate.”

Jacee blew out a frustrated breath. “They’re some sort of top-secret military unit. I’ve seen them called away from here more than once, and when they leave, they do it with this amazing calm, organized precision, if you know what I mean. Their leader, or whatever you call him, is usually issuing orders.”

Their leader. Nick Westfall.

“What sort of orders?” When the woman hesitated, she pushed. “Come on. I know you pick up things with your preternatural hearing that others don’t.”

“Stuff about where they’re heading, what vehicles they’ll take. Sometimes he says to get the Hueys ready, other times they’re taking a jet or SUVs.”

“And why are they rushing off, Jacee? Tell me.” Her gaze pinned the woman. She knew, and Selene wasn’t leaving without the answer.

“From what I’ve heard, sometimes people are in trouble, and they’re called away to help.”

She frowned. “How so? They’re not regular military from one of the four branches, right? They’re not cops, either, so what sort of problems do they deal with?”

“Paranormal ones,” Jacee whispered, leaning close. Her gaze was intent. “They’re not just wolves. They have Psy abilities, every last one of them.”

“What?”

“They’re called Alpha Pack, and they all had special abilities, like seeing the dead or telekinesis or whatever, even before they were turned into shifters. Now they protect the world from just about every paranormal threat you can imagine—vampires, witches, demons, Unseelie, Sluagh. You name it, they’ve probably battled it.”

Selene’s heart thundered in her chest. This was not at all what she’d expected to learn. Her father, the commander of a team with such a noble calling? No fucking way. Draining her glass, she slid it across the table.

“You know, I think I’m going to need that second beer after all.”

Zan was suffering with a pounding head and a terrible ache in his heart.

He’d almost gotten a Pack brother killed, and he knew the horrible memory of Phoenix sprawled on the ground, desperately trying to hold his torn neck together, would stay with him forever. That was his wake-up call. There was only one course of action left to take, as much as the decision tore him apart.

He had to go. Today.

Struggling to sit up in the infirmary’s hospital bed, he yanked at the IV in his hand—only to be interrupted by Mac, who rushed into the room, curly dark hair swirling around her determined face.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Dr. Mackenzie Grant, Kalen’s heavily pregnant and annoyed mate, pressed him flat onto the bed and frowned down at him.

“I need to leave,” he said hoarsely. “I have things to do.”

“Are you trying to scare me into early labor?” she demanded. “You’re not getting up from here until we run more tests and discuss the results.”

“Sorry.” The last thing he wanted was to stress out a pregnant woman. Again, he hadn’t been thinking. “How long will that be?”

“At least a couple of hours, probably more, so get comfortable.”

He couldn’t hide his misery. Her expression softened, and he looked away, unable to stand the pity he knew he’d find there. Hatred or disgust would be preferable, from all of his friends, because his decision to leave would be much simpler. Cleaner.

Mac took his chin in her hand and urged him to look at her again. She waited until she had his attention before she spoke. “We’re going to find a way to get you better, all right? I promise.”

“You said better , not healed.”

“Zan . . .”

“Too big a promise?”

She hesitated, but to her credit, she told the truth. “For the time being, yes.”

“Fair enough.” Disappointment threatened to crush him, and he fought it down. “What’s next?”

“A new CAT scan, blood work, and hearing tests. Then we go from there.”

He understood why his colleagues wouldn’t give up on finding some improvement, however slight. Hell, it wasn’t like he wanted to quit. He couldn’t lie to himself, though. His brain was a ticking bomb, set to explode the second the stress of using his healing power became too much. He’d gotten lucky so far.

With a start, he realized Mac was waiting for his response. “Sure.”

“Hang in there.” After patting his arm, she turned and walked out, presumably to make sure things were ready for his tests.

A short time later, Jax sauntered in without knocking and took up residence in the chair beside his bed. “Came to babysit, since you’re such a pussy about being poked and prodded.”

Zan rolled his eyes, which was a bad idea since it caused his head to pound harder. “It’s the CAT scan I hate. Being stuck in that tube is creepy.”

“Want me to hold your hand?” his friend joked.

“Shut up.” He managed a smile, but didn’t quite feel it.

Jax’s humor bled from his face, and he was silent for a long moment. Finally, he took a deep breath and said what they were both thinking. “You’re going to run, aren’t you?”

“No. I’m going to walk, after I say good-bye.”

“You sure that’s what you want?”

“Of course it’s not. But what choice do I have when I’ve become a liability? What am I supposed to do if I stay—sweep the floors and clean toilets?”

“What happened with Nix can be prevented. We can work on teaching you to use your other senses, to feel the changes in the atmosphere around you—”

“Why did I just get a sudden image of Obi-Wan teaching Luke to use the force?”

“It can work,” Jax insisted, ignoring the bad joke. “Isn’t it worth a try? You owe it to yourself not to leave before you’ve exhausted every possibility.”