The Enforcers: KANE (Silverlake Shifters) (Silverlake Enforcers Book 1) Read online

  Sure. That’s what he’d do.

  * * *

  Rachelle scraped the last of the Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream out of the container and dumped it in the trash. After her years on the street, she’d never gotten over the thrill of being able to have tasty treats any time she wanted.

  But tonight, she was too disturbed to really enjoy it.

  She couldn’t believe what she thought she’d seen. Had that wolf really been Kane?

  She should have stayed behind to find out, but she’d been too freaked out. If it was Kane, she had to figure out how to handle him. This could change everything.

  When the Agency contacted her and asked her to do this job, she’d refused, the way she usually did. Until she heard they were going after Selina.

  Rachelle was one of the few people who really understood how dangerous Selina was. She’d seen her drag Kane down into her dark little world. He hadn’t been able to resist her. No one she touched ever had.

  Rachelle had tried to fight her influence on Kane, pull him back from the edge, but she wasn’t strong enough. Selina had mesmerized him with her fucked-up mind powers, and Rachelle had to leave before Selina saw her as a threat and came after her.

  Or forced Kane to do it. That would have killed them both.

  Over the years, she’d hoped that an ugly death had eventually found Selina, the way it had so many others around her who deserved it far less. The kind of power she wielded couldn’t be let loose on the world.

  But now it had been. Somehow, after going underground for years, Selina had reappeared more powerful than ever—and on a national rampage. If she wasn’t stopped, it could be a disaster for the shifter world. The Agency was not about to let that happen—and neither was Rachelle.

  The Agency was certain the Silver Cloud was her next target. And when she pulled off this job, Rachelle was going to trace her back to her hideout and take her down.

  It was what she did. Under the right circumstances, she could out-hunt Hunter.

  But what was he doing here? She had never been so shocked as when she’d seen him appear out of the dark. Trying to protect her, like the old days.

  She shook her head. She prayed he wasn’t part of Selina’s gang. She’d hoped, when she heard he’d left that psychotic bitch, that he’d be strong enough to stay gone. That somehow, he’d manage to rip her claws out of his brain.

  Because if he hadn’t, all this would be for nothing. All these years she’d protected him from the Agency, from the Council, from everyone. She was the only one who knew that Kane Colton had once been part of Selina’s gang.

  But if he’d thrown back in with her, he’d go down with her too. Rachelle couldn’t be the one to make that happen.

  She felt a prickle down her spine—a warning that there was someone nearby who didn’t belong. She looked out the window, then walked to the front door and slipped out onto the darkened stoop, keeping close to the house.

  She didn’t have the senses of a wolf, so her sense of smell could tell her nothing. But she could feel that someone had been here, disturbing her space.

  A little way down the street, she heard an engine start, and a vehicle drove off.

  Thoughtfully, she went back into the house. She dug her second cell out of the hidden pocket in her purse and pressed a button.

  “Carmichael here,” came the voice on the other end.

  “Raven,” she said, as if he wouldn’t know. She hesitated, but she had to say it. “I think I might have been made tonight,” she said.

  “By who?” Carmichael asked. She could hear the concern in his voice. If Selina found out Rachelle was there in Idaho—and who she was working with—it could blow the whole operation.

  “Someone from Selina’s old crew,” she said. “I’m not positive it’s him; it’s been a hell of a long time. And I only caught sight of him in wolf form, in the dark. But I thought I needed to warn you.”

  “Hmm,” Carmichael said. The silence grew deeper. Finally he spoke again. “Everyone from Selina’s old crew is dead,” he said. “Except one.”

  “Are you sure?” she said.

  “Yes.” His answer was clipped and definite.

  Shit. That meant the only one who’d made it out was Hunter. She’d never really wanted to believe that, but the Agency’s intel was rarely wrong.

  “Are you telling me he showed up at the casino?” Carmichael asked. She heard his frustrated sigh. “Damn. He must be working with her after all.”

  Rachelle hesitated. She wanted so desperately to believe he wasn’t. “I don’t think so,” she said finally. “I didn’t get that vibe.”

  Carmichael made a noncommittal noise. He didn’t entirely trust her “vibes,” although they were the strongest sense she possessed. As a genetically modified shifter, her powers were unique and unquantifiable—which made scientists like Carmichael nervous.

  She added, “He seemed like he was trying to protect me. A drunk came after me in the parking lot after my show. He had a knife. And the next thing I knew, this shifter wolf came out of nowhere and ran him off.”

  Carmichael said, “Could be a setup. To make you trust him.”

  He had such a devious mind.

  “Maybe,” she said. “Except he didn’t wait and talk to me afterwards. As soon as he realized I knew who he was, he ran. Why would he do that if he was trying to impress me into trusting him?”

  Carmichael snorted. “Are you trying to tell me this is just a random coincidence? Because that’s even less believable.”

  “I know.” Her and Kane being accidentally thrown together after all these years did stretch the bounds of credibility.

  “Well, find out what he’s up to,” Carmichael said. “If he’s working with Selina, I want to know it—and I want to find out what he knows. If not—well, he’s the only male shifter who’s ever rejected her influence, that we know of. Even if she’s managed to suck him back in, it would be worth studying him so see if there’s anything in his brain patterns or genetic makeup that can resist the type of mind tampering she’s capable of. She’s a huge danger, if she gets her hands on the wrong people.”

  No kidding. If she could manipulate her way through casino security guards, what would happen if she got near the Shifter Council? Rachelle shuddered.

  “Oh, and another thing,” Carmichael said. “We’ve learned the Council now has the same suspicions we do about where Selina may show up next. They’ve hired some extra Enforcers to work undercover at the resort. Be careful to keep out of their way. The last thing we want is to get on the Council’s radar.”

  Right. Rachelle signed off and hung up the phone. So she was supposed to walk a tightrope between Selina’s gang, Carmichael, the Council and their Enforcers, and a man from her past who stirred up emotions she hadn’t felt in ten years.

  Awesome.

  She really hoped Selina didn’t have Kane in her clutches again. When she’d known him, he’d been a troubled, out-of-control teenager with a good heart. Selina had exploited his loneliness and vulnerability, and led him down a dark path he might never have been able to come back from. For that alone, she had to pay.

  She just hoped Kane, her Hunter, didn’t end up having to pay for his past as well. And she hoped that somehow, somewhere, he had managed to find redemption.

  Chapter 5

  Kane sat in his silent, empty cabin, the only illumination the small lamp on his bedside table. There was an old wooden box beside him on the bed, its hinged lid propped open.

  He hadn’t opened the box in years. It was his small cache of treasures, all he had left of his childhood. A colored stone from the creek in their original territory. His father’s knife, with its hand-carved handle. Other bits and pieces that he had kept to remind himself there were things in his life that had once had meaning.

  He fished a gold coin out of the box, turning it over and over in his fingers, watching it gleam in the lamplight. Rachelle—Raven—had given it to him. For luck, she said. He’d thought it was brass—it was years before he’d realized it was solid gold. Selling it would have kept them in food and shelter for a long time, on the streets.

  But she’d given it to him instead. Just before she left, as if it were a goodbye present. Even though at the time he’d shared almost everything with Selina, he’d never shown her this. It had a yin/yang symbol inscribed on one side, and feathered wings—like angels’ wings—on the other.

  It was a long time since he’d looked at it, or even thought about it. He’d never carried it with him, though he would have liked to. But as a shifter living a life on the edge, there was always too much of a chance he’d have to leave his clothes behind at a moment’s notice. He still rarely carried anything in his pockets he’d have a problem with losing.

  But he’d held onto this coin through some long, long nights after he’d left Selina. Nights when it was all he could do not to go back to her, when her voice in his head was louder than any of the real sounds around him. Israel had to chain him down, sometimes, and he’d thrashed against his bonds while Israel sat by him, talking. Saying anything to keep him sane.

  Israel didn’t talk to anyone else. Rarely more than “pass the ketchup” at a barbecue, or a few words about whatever security job they were working.

  But he’d sat there night after night and talked to Kane, while he’d clutched Raven’s last gift and vowed to find her. To rescue her from the Seattle alleys and make everything up to her.

  He never had.

  Kane missed Israel now—missed his presence in the next room, missed having him to talk to when he was too wired to sleep and too tired to run.

  But Israel was in Nashville with Jesse Travis, their pack’s Negotiator, and his new mate, Sophia, heading up their security detail. Jesse had recently tak
en out Sophia’s adopted father, Nash Jenkins, in a dominance battle to win Sophia’s freedom.

  Which turned out to be a complete cluster fuck. Defeating the alpha technically made Jesse alpha of Nash’s territory, and no one wanted that. Not Jesse, not Sophia, and not the Nashville pack, which was huge, unruly, and very, very wealthy.

  Jesse and Jace had spent half the summer going back and forth between Idaho and Tennessee, trying to figure out what the hell to do with the whole mess. As far as Kane was concerned, Jace could go ahead and leave Jesse there—him and his negotiations and his beautiful mate who was supposed to be Kane’s. Before Jesse had screwed it all up, Kane had been in the middle of a mating contract with Sophia—one that would have given the Silverlake pack access to Nashville and their assets without the mess that Jesse caused.

  But no, Jesse had taken one look at Sophia and his dick had gone into overdrive. He’d taken the one thing Kane had tried to do for the pack—make them financially secure as well as physically secure—and fucked it all to hell.

  And the pack still thought Jesse was a hero. No matter what Kane did, no matter how many times he saved their asses, they just thought he was an animated statue. Stone Face, they called him. Sir-Stick-up-his-ass.

  Kane sighed. Brooding over his fucked-up life wasn’t getting him anywhere. He’d have sucked as a mate, anyway. He didn’t have any feelings for Sophia—he couldn’t afford to have feelings for any woman.

  Their proposed mating had been a business arrangement. But Sophia loved Jesse—she was happy with him. God only knew why; he was an annoying little computer nerd. But their pheromone-soaked joy was all the more reason why Kane had no desire to be anywhere near them.

  So when this casino job came up, Kane had jumped at it. He could spend his evenings away from the pack, away from their pitying glances and their leaders’ mated happiness. Jace and Emma; Rafe, their Second, and his pregnant mate Terin, and now Jesse and Sophia.

  Kane was never going to have that—he’d ruined himself with Selina. He’d bonded with a sick psycho-woman, which proved his bonding mechanism was totally screwed up. All those couples nuzzling each other was beyond depressing.

  Think about the job. That’s what he had to do. It’s what he always did. Use his head, think about the job.

  In this case, it was the casino job. This whole thing had never made sense to him.

  Why would someone target shifter businesses? It couldn’t be accidental—they had to know they were shifter-owned and run. But if they knew about shifters, they’d know that shifter businesses had better security than anyone in the world. Shifters were stronger, faster, and had enhanced senses that made them perfect for security work.

  So who would go after them? Was it a personal hatred of shifters? Alexander Grant, Emma’s ex and a primo shifter-hater, was finally out of the picture. Anyway, his crimes had been direct attacks on shifters: kidnapping, murder, trafficking them to psychos who wanted them for the sex trade, or for pets or trophies. That thought still made him sick to his stomach.

  This was more subtle and complex. There was something here he was missing.

  Kane shook his head. The “whys” weren’t his problem. His problem—and his team’s—was simply to add an extra layer of security to keep it from happening here. And if they caught the thieves, all the better.

  But thinking about the casino led him back to Rachelle. He still couldn’t believe she was here. Unless someone was playing an elaborate hoax, or Selina had somehow returned into his life with her biggest mind-fuck yet.

  In a way, he could believe either of those things more easily than the reality: that Raven had gotten out. His betrayal hadn’t killed her. She’d somehow survived—and thrived. Better than he had, probably.

  He wondered why that was so hard for him to accept. Maybe he’d carried the burden of guilt for so long, he couldn’t imagine putting it down. But it wasn’t just that.

  If Raven was okay, if she’d survived just fine, then the guilt had been for nothing. All his nightmares of what might have happened to her had been illusions. Worst of all, his protection had been for nothing. None of it had ever mattered.

  She’d never needed him at all.

  Kane woke the next day to a loud pounding on his cabin door.

  “Hey! Stone Face!”

  Kane groaned. Fucking Rafe.

  Besides being the pack’s Second, Rafe was a major pain in Kane’s ass. Like Jace, their alpha, Rafe was a strong fighter, loyal as hell, and universally loved by the pack.

  Unlike Jace, Rafe was impulsive, way too emotional, and had no filter whatsoever on his idiot mouth. If someone counted up the most-used phrases among the Silverlake pack, “Shut up, Rafe” would be at the top of the list.

  Kane and Rafe had never gotten along, especially when Jace was away and Rafe was in charge. They were just too different.

  And then, during the whole Sophia/Nashville disaster, Rafe had gotten the fucked-up idea that Kane wanted to be his friend—that Kane wanted to be friends with all of them.

  Sitting around the fire pit, drinking beers and shooting the shit, shifting and running together, taking part in all the inane activities that Rafe dreamed up to keep himself from getting bored, and to amuse his mate.

  He was in no mood for whatever Rafe had come up with this time.

  “I’m sleeping, asshole,” he yelled back. “Some of us work for a living. And we work the damn night shift.”

  “You’re not sleeping, you’re talking to me,” Rafe called, pounding on the wall again. “Anyway, it’s eleven o’clock in the morning, you lazy-ass wolf!”

  Kane groaned.

  “Come on out,” Rafe coaxed. “I have coffee. And it’s important.”

  Kane doubted that. His idea of important and Rafe’s were usually miles apart.

  But still…if there was coffee…

  Kane staggered out of bed, picked his jeans up off the floor and pulled them on. He strode through the living area, banged out onto the porch and said, “That part about coffee better be true. And it better be hot.”

  Rafe was standing at the bottom of the porch steps, his curly dark hair mussed as usual, holding a travel mug of coffee.

  “For you, o great and powerful Enforcer,” he said, handing it up and giving Kane a mock-respectful bow.

  Eyeing him suspiciously, Kane took a sip. It was hot. And it was fixed exactly the way he liked it. No sugar, just a touch of cream.

  Oh, no. He lowered the cup and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Rafe. “What have you done now?” he said.

  Rafe looked up at him innocently. “We’re having a contest for the best beer-can sculpture, and we need you to judge.”

  Fuck. Kane almost threw the coffee at him. “Why?”

  Rafe rolled his eyes. “Because it will make you feel like part of the gang,” he said. “I don’t like you, personally, but Terin says if you want to be friends with us then I have to be nice to you even when you’re being a stone-faced asshat. And I hate disappointing Terin. I don’t get as many dick kisses when she’s disappointed.”

  Kane winced. “Too much information. Does Terin know you talk about her like that?”

  “Of course. And she mated with me anyway. Go figure.”

  Kane couldn’t. He had no idea what shy, quiet, artistic Terin saw in Rafe. But she seemed crazy about him. Which, on the up side, meant there was probably someone for everyone. Possibly even him.

  But he also knew Rafe was a persistent little prick. He might as well get this over with.

  “Fine,” he said. “If it will keep you from telling me any more about your sex life, I’ll come and judge your stupid contest. But I can tell you right now, you’re not winning.”

  He stomped inside and grabbed a t-shirt, and then followed Rafe down to the fire pit. On the folding tables they used for cookouts were four sculptures—yup, made entirely from empty beer cans. Shit. Didn’t these people have anything better to do with their time?

  Kane strolled by each table, drinking his coffee. Mick, a gruff wolf in his forties, stood behind one shaped like a spaceship. Other pack members were drifting over, whispering among themselves, or talking to the guys who’d made the other two sculptures. What the fuck was Rafe up to?