“You know what else he didn’t tell you?” Debra snapped, showing her zero fucks to give about any sympathy.
Andrew calmed himself, glancing up, face a mess of tears and snot. “What?”
“Wolf shifters take animal form when they die. Human-wolf hybrids don’t.”
The words sank in. “The kids looked human after they died?”
“Yes. Your father disposed of the bodies. Your nephews weren’t the only hybrids on site. Your father thought the remains of two boys proved he’d done his dirty deed. I’d gone away for a few days with Ed. When I came back around, nothing left but ash and bone.” Debra paused, tilting her head back, eyelids working in several hard blinks. Sniffing, she refocused on her enemy with dry eyes. “We ran. The piece of shit you call a father killed one of Valerie’s sons. When he disposed of the bodies, I’m guessing he realized the second child was an older boy, maybe seven, so one got away. Your family has been searching ever since.”
Andrew’s mouth dropped open. “A wolf named Noah. Dad said there was a vicious wolf named Noah. If we saw him, we should put him down on sight.”
Debra nodded. “You’d have had a dead human body on your hands.”
Oh, fuck. How the hell was Noah going to take this massive clusterfuck? He’d been through enough already.
“It’s too much! I can’t take this!” Andrew shot a frantic gaze from one face to another.
“Buddy, can you find our guests a cell? Except for Andrew. We’re going to have ourselves a little chat first. Debra, you stay too.” Mac turned to Slade. “It’s been a rough day. The diner has a couple of steaks ready for Noah. You eat, then go on home, feed Noah, get some rest. Let me finish here. He needs to heal, so don’t mention anything we discussed in this office.”
What? Keep something this big from Noah? He needed to know, and lying to him, even by omission, caused a momentary flash of anger. But no. Soon, Slade would leave, Mac would still be here, Noah’s alpha. Protecting him.
Though Slade didn’t like lying to his lover, he nodded. Mac was right. Noah needed to heal before receiving a shock of this magnitude. Slade would be here, offering his shoulder, until the curse forced him to go.
Mac poured three shots of bourbon, handing one to Andrew. “Here, son. I think you need this.” He passed another to Debra. Slade left, closing the door behind him.
As Slade passed by, Thomas Pritchard looked through the bars of his cell with pure hatred in his eyes.
“You tried to kill everything your daughter loved. You didn’t. She won.” Slade spun on his heel and stalked off.
For all he knew, these last remnants of Noah’s family might disappear without a trace.
He couldn’t bring himself to care.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sladesatinabooth for two, reserved in his name, in the diner. Wolves—judging by the piles of meat on platters—crowded around the other tables.
He never even ordered. Moments after he sat down, a server approached with a glass of tea and a burger plate. How long ago had Slade last eaten? Oh, yeah. This morning, in this very place, he’d shared breakfast with Mac—and discovered his talent for locating hunters.
Slade swore he heard soft growls as the pack tore into their dinners. How many had come to Noah’s aid? The whole pack?
The burger, oh sweet heaven, tasted so damned good. With Noah waiting, Slade cut things short. “Check, please. Can you wrap this up for me?”
The young server smiled. “No check. Let me go get your takeout order.” His takeout order? She left with Slade’s plate, returning with two cardboard trays and a drink. “Here you go.”
“How am I supposed to carry this on a motorcycle?”
“I’ll take you,” a familiar voice said. Slade turned to find Sam, perpetual gentle smile firmly in place. Was the man’s calming presence a part of his personality or his craft? Didn’t matter now.
“Thanks. But I gotta get the bike from behind Mac’s office.”
Mac placed a hand on Slade's arm, giving a light squeeze. “Tomorrow will be soon enough. Come home to Noah. He needs you now.”
In times past, no way in hell would Slade leave his Harley out unattended at night; however, if the parking lot of an alpha werewolf sheriff’s department wasn’t safe, where would be? Alpha werewolf sheriff. What a concept. Slade shook his head, a bemused smile on his lips. He settled into the back of Sam’s SUV rather than riding shotgun, using his borrowed jacket for a blanket.
Sam’s “We’re here” shook Slade from a light doze. He carried Noah’s meal into the cabin in a daze, placing the trays and drink on the bedside table. Somehow managing to stay upright, even exhausted, he pulled Noah’s shirt up to reveal professional bandaging. God bless Sam.
Slade dropped down beside his lover’s still form. Completely clothed, on top of the covers, overhead light still on, he slept.