Chapter 4

FOUR

Max

My wolf growls within. I feel its hackles raise. I’m not the only one. My brother’s usual earthy scent is laced with burning, his eyes trained on the newcomer. I watch the blond closely, observe his relaxed demeanor, his casual grin. He sits up against the tree beside Asha. Close. Too close.

I can already tell he’s a cocky fucker, and I don’t like him one bit. If he doesn’t get away from Asha soon, I might take him down so many pegs that his dick will never work again.

It’s hard to swallow down my growl, as well as the clawing need to stalk toward him and tear him limb from limb. The instinct is surprising. Yes, I’m a shifter. Yes, we have tempers, but mine is usually in check.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“That boy’s your problem now,” says Michael.

I find Thomas and Michael staring at me, and I blink. “I’m sorry, what?”

Thomas frowns. “The newest member of your team.” He points at the man. “He’s your responsibility now.”

My exhausted brain catches up, piecing the bits of this conversation together like a badly made puzzle. I rub my chest where it still aches from that filthy Blood Mage’s dark magic, processing more slowly than I like. Mentally, I go over everything I read about the team I’m responsible for and then the pieces of this conversation, and everything finally clicks in a way I don’t like.

“ That’s the ex-con?” I question dubiously, recalling his file. This recruit looks more like a beach bum than a hardened criminal.

“Yep,” says Michael. “Orson, twenty-seven, spent the last four years in max for?—”

“I read the file,” I interject, more angrily than I intended.

Michael throws up his hands and flashes a grin at Thomas. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Sorry,” I reply gruffly.

But I’m not happy. Orson is an imposition foisted upon me by my superiors. Another member added to our special task force charged with tracking down the Blood Pack and escorting a top-priority asset. Namely, Asha. Who appears right now to be enjoying his company.

But she doesn’t know what he’s done. I do.

Braxton moves toward the man as if to introduce himself, but I throw out my arm to block his advance. “Let me handle this.”

If I was pissed about him talking to Asha, I have no doubt what Braxton’s feeling. The last thing I need is to have two members of my team beating the shit out of each other within seconds of meeting one other.

There would be paperwork… and a lot of questions I can’t answer.

“Let’s talk first,” Braxton says.

Sighing, I follow him to the back corner of the tent, making certain that between the noise and the distance, the shifters won’t be able to pick up our conversation. “What?”

“What do you mean, what? We’re just supposed to allow some felon on the team?”

I lift a brow. “I don’t believe you were anyone’s first choice, either.”

He winces, and I instantly feel terrible.

Rubbing at my chest, trying to fight against the pain and exhaustion, I try again. “We don’t have a choice. We need to make it work.”

“I thought you were the boss,” he says, but there’s a little less fight in his voice.

“Yes, but I have bosses, too. That’s how this works. Much like the military.”

“How’s the shoulder?”

I realize he’s noticed my fidgeting and drop my hand. “Fine.”

He lifts a brow. “Let me know if it gets too bad.” Then he glances at them. “And what do we do about him? I don’t like the way he’s looking at her.”

My wolf doesn’t like that notion one bit. “She’s with us now.”

“Is she?”

I glance at him, surprised. “Well, after we–”

“Do you think it meant as much to her?”

I hate that he’s asking me. “We’ll handle it one way or another and handle him, too. Most importantly, we need to not see him as a threat. You saw what that fucking creature was capable of. If we don’t stop it, more people are going to die.”

Braxton’s entire body goes rigid. “I’ll try.”

He probably will, but I’m not sure he’ll be successful. I can barely control myself when I think about that bastard near Asha, confident enough to sit his ass down right next to our woman without a thought.

“Listen to everything that’s going on at the command station. Look for any sign of the Blood Pack member. I’ll take care of our new team member,” I tell him.

He looks like he wants to argue, but returns to Thomas.

I stride through the tent’s entrance and catch Asha’s eye. She can see I’m about to rain on her new friend’s parade, but I’m going to be civil. After all, I’m his new boss. Our lives will be in one another’s hands soon enough. Acrimony would not serve me well.

When I reach them, they both stare at me, but I keep my focus on him. “I take it you’re Orson?”

He rises to his feet and offers his hand in greeting. I cut my eyes at Asha, seated below with the dog beside her, before reaching out to shake Orson’s hand. She looks tired, as tired as I feel, even though it does nothing to diminish her beauty. The beauty she seems completely unaware of. If she was, she might keep more distance between herself and this man.

Beauty I’m sure this criminal noticed.

“That I am,” he replies, grasping my hand. “And from your authoritative air and firm grip, I take it you’re Max.”

I inspect his two different-colored eyes for traces of irreverence. Years spent on the lam, capped by several more in prison, can make a man recalcitrant. But everything about him reads genuine, his feelings written plainly on his face. Presently, an excitement for his new role.

“That’s right, I’m your new boss.”

His smile widens. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. Thanks for taking me on.”

I bristle at the formal address for reasons I don’t understand. “I didn’t have a choice. And let’s drop the ‘sir’ shit. Not a fan.”

Orson nods without missing a beat. Despite his past, he seems to have learned manners and respect. By all appearances, he seems inoffensive, which belies his violent past. It’s hard to reconcile the file with the man, but I try to judge people based on my own impression.

“Look, we do dangerous work, as I’m sure has been explained to you. I won’t sugarcoat it. But as part of my team, I’ll have your back, and I’ll expect you to have mine. As long as you follow my orders and act right, I’ll keep you out of jail. Deal?”

“As fine a deal as I could hope for,” he says, totally devoid of irony. You’re either one sick puppy, or somebody seriously fucked up your paperwork.

Asha rises from the ground and pats Orson’s shoulder. “Welcome to the team.”

I glance between them and notice how one smile mirrors the other. I worry for a moment whether something’s happening here, but after the bonding moment my brother, Asha, and I shared last night, I trust she’s committed to us. At least, I hope she is. Sex like that can’t be meaningless. It was something closer to what occurs to bonded mates rather than a quick fling.

Orson, however, is another story. The unanswered question of his reliability gains new dimension when I catch the glint in his eye when he stares at Asha. She’s the least generous woman with her trust, yet here I find her sharing a friendly moment mere minutes after an introduction. I almost want to pull her aside and scold her, but that would only betray my jealousy. No, I’ll continue to play it cool, treat Orson to the same steely leadership I provide all subordinates.

Even if my wolf might not like it.

Although my form of leadership happens to be developing in real-time, since this is my first rodeo as ringleader — to mix metaphors. Until this moment, for example, I had no idea how much I wouldn’t like a pretty boy calling me sir in front of my lover, as if I’m some old man.

Life is easier flying solo .

As if to further illustrate that fact, Michael and Braxton leave the mobile command center to join us. Instantly, I sense the unease in my brother, who crosses his arms and mean-mugs our newest team member. Anger rolls beneath his surface, and I start to wonder if my brother might be more of a problem when it comes to playing nice than I thought.

Still, better to start things off right. “Braxton, this is Orson, who’ll be joining our team.”

He takes a beat for inspection before offering his hand. They shake, underneath which Trouble angles his snout towards their hands. With a sniff, he seems to pick up on Braxton’s hostility, which sets him on edge. His head lowered, he drifts over to Braxton and places himself between my brother’s legs, eyeing Orson with new suspicion.

“Here I thought we were getting along, Trouble,” Orson says, smiling gently at the dog.

“He was probably just sussing you out,” Braxton posits.

Asha rolls her eyes, all too aware of the moment’s hyper-masculine subtext. I’d make excuses, but it is what it is. Men are naturally wary of each other, shifters even more so, because we know what we’re capable of, the violence and appetites that reside within us. Orson wears none of these openly, but I know his cheery facade masks inner tumult.

Orson hunkers down with his hands on his knees and says to the dog, “Your trust doesn’t come cheap. I respect that. I hope to earn it soon.”

Trouble licks his lips.

“Well,” says Michael, drawing out the word, “as much fun as this party is, I’ve got to get back on the road. Here, Orson.” Michael heaves a duffel into Orson’s arms, then stacks a reinforced, field-ready laptop on top of it. “Lady,” Michael says, nodding at Asha, “gentlemen, adieu.” He marches back to his blacked-out SUV and peels out, leaving an unpleasant dust cloud in his wake.

As it clears, my twin asks, “Why the computer?”

Orson shrugs. “It’s my specialty.”

“You some kind of nerd?”

Braxton’s battlefield experience must’ve indoctrinated him in the ways of the jock. My own made me averse to it, but I only gave them four years compared to his eight. Spend enough time in a certain culture, it inevitably starts to diffuse through you because everyone is trained to think alike, to be alike. It gets to the point where you don't know who you are, especially when you leave. It's difficult to assimilate back to being a civvie, so I don’t blame him.

Orson laughs good-naturedly though. “I suppose so.” I can tell this isn’t the confrontational response my brother was looking for and only irritates him further. “I picked up a few things at school.”

“Sounds like false modesty,” Braxton says.

Christ . Before I can throw water on the fire of this nascent, lopsided feud, I get a call from Carl, my boss. As I excuse myself to answer it, I shoot Braxton a glare that I hope communicates my stern warning against starting any shit.

Halfway between my team and the command tent, I turn back to observe the three of them. Braxton is obviously spoiling for a fight Orson refuses to give. I scan Asha for subtle hints of interest, but she’s harder to read. The way her eyes alight on his shoulders, is she checking him out?

My wolf bristles again, and I try to take slow, deep breaths. Asha felt something with us. The same thing we felt for her. One pretty face isn’t going to sway her interest. Is it?

I hate that I don’t know. I hate that some place deep inside of me I’m not sure how she feels.

I pick up the call. “Carl.”

“Max,” Carl replies in my ear. “There’s a new development.”