Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 207(@300wpm)
“You need a ride home?” I asked. “A bottle of water?”
Things suddenly got awkward.
“No.” Becky breezed past me and unlocked the door. “I came in the limo, remember?” She glanced over her shoulder and offered me a smile. She was reassuring me. “Don’t get weird about this, okay? We hooked up. We both enjoyed it. End of story.”
“Right.” I caught up and dropped a hand to her hip to escort her out. “I definitely enjoyed it.” The top of my head had pretty much blown off. I opened the door, the sounds of reality crashing around us again.
I enjoyed it way more than I should have. My dick wanted more of that hot pussy, that was for damn sure. Which meant I definitely needed to steer clear of Becky and the temptation she presented. Because my mom raised me better than to toy with the emotions of random females, even if she sure seemed fine with a hot quickie.
2
CLINT
Four months later
I sat on the edge of the motel bed to clean my gun and place the silver bullets in the chamber. There weren’t many Shifter Council enforcers, and we varied as much as the geography of the packs we were from. There were some enforcers who killed in shifter form. I preferred remaining in human form, the silver bullet from a gun my method of pack justice. I had no idea why—it just felt more civilized.
That didn’t mean I hadn’t killed with my bare hands. Or teeth.
I had.
But I hoped today I’d be able to use the bullet and keep justice as swift and painless as possible.
I holstered the gun under my arm and pulled a down jacket over my t-shirt to cover it. The moment I stepped outside the wind howled in my ears. Wyoming was fucking windy in November. Hell, Wyoming was fucking windy all the time, in my experience. November might still technically be fall, but it was cold as fuck and would stay that way until at least March.
This wasn’t my favorite place to be. I’d been tracking Jarod Jameson, the rogue shifter who was the infamous convenience store killer, across the state for twelve days now.
Unfortunately, I failed to stop him before he’d struck again last night in Gillette. Another convenience store worker had had his throat ripped out. The register had been emptied. The FBI were involved because the spree had crossed state lines, and I needed to put a lid on this thing ASAP.
The agency didn’t know shit about shifters, and Jameson needed to be punished by shifter means. To be put down, so he wasn’t a threat to the shifter way. To humans.
Late last night, I’d slipped into the scene of the crime in wolf form to scent the place. I pushed past the bleach cleaner used on the floor and the fatty aroma of rotating hot dogs and picked up his scent. I knew it now and would know him when I found him. I didn’t need video surveillance or mug shots to identify the guy.
He was a wolf shifter, like me. Fucker. I hated when our species screwed things up in the shifter world. But it made him easier to find and execute. A wolf knew a wolf.
As an enforcer, I knew how to hunt a rogue one.
I’d seen no paw prints in the snow around the building, so I believed he traveled by car. I already knew from the security footage released to the public that he attacked in human form. He must partially shift to maul the workers. No human ripped out another’s throat.
Whatever the story, he had to be put down.
Today.
Before he hurt any more humans and exposed our kind to their law enforcement.
My theory was that he was into drugs. That’s why the wild, haphazard robberies and random killings, all at convenience stores. Whatever cocktail of narcotics he’d taken had made him crazed. Savage enough to kill innocent people trying hard to make a living.
Whatever his reasoning, it didn’t matter. The council had sent me to end him. We didn’t allow rogue shifters or human killing.
He might still be alive, but his life was forfeit.
I entered a diner and immediately caught the fucker’s scent. Luck was with me. Trouble was, he’d scent me, too. Know a shifter was close. After him. Getting away with a number of killings and staying off the radar of the FBI meant he wasn’t just rogue, he was smart.
I turned around and left. It was better to catch him outside and have the element of surprise on my hands. A bunch of diners as witnesses wouldn’t be good, either.
In the Wolf pack, only Rob knew I was an enforcer. Sure, the others knew of the role within the pack system, but our identities were secret. While everyone wanted to ensure pack safety and security, no one wanted to know they had an executioner in their pack.