CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Having filled yet another page of her notepad, Havana flipped the page and braced the tip of her pen over a fresh one. “Okay … next family,” she said, looking up at Tate. Noticing his face had gone all soft, she frowned. “What?”

Sitting beside her on the sofa with his hand splayed over her thigh, he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “I like that it’s so important to you to know about the families within our pride. A lot of Alphas in your position would choose to just pick it up as they went along.”

“These people pledged their loyalty to me yesterday, Tate. That’s some serious shit. The least I can do is show interest in them.” They’d each introduced themselves, of course, and made clear what position if any they held within the pride. But Havana wanted to know more. Nothing too personal. Just things that were necessary for an Alpha to know in order to properly look out for them.

It was also good to be aware if any of them were shit-stirrers, regularly defied authority, or had beef with other members. She’d then know to be prepared for any future issues that may arise.

“Do you mind if I share these notes with Aspen and Bailey?” asked Havana. “Because, as enforcers, it would be good for them to have at least some basic info on everyone in order to watch out for the pride’s general well-being.”

“Feel free to share anything that is relatively common knowledge within the pride,” said Tate. “As for the things I told you were more private matters that members would only trust their Alphas and Betas with, keep those to yourself.”

She nodded. “No problem. Now, tell me about the next family.”

Tate went to speak, but then his cell phone rang. “Just a sec.” He grabbed the phone from the coffee table. “It’s Chen, one of the enforcers staking out the casino,” he told her.

Havana straightened. “Please let it be good news.”

Putting the cell on speakerphone, Tate answered, “Yeah?”

“A man fitting the description of Enrique just walked into the casino,” said Chen.

Tate felt his muscles go tight. He scooted forward to sit on the edge of the sofa. “Alone?”

“No,” replied Chen. “He has a guy with him who matches the description of the other jaguar.”

Tate pushed to his feet, every part of his body feeling charged. “The original plan still stands—we follow them when they leave and hope they’ll lead us to Gideon. I’ll leave here as soon as I can and park a few blocks away from the casino. I can’t tail the jaguars in the pride’s SUV—it’s too noticeable—so I’ll need you and JP to take the lead on this and give me directions as to where they’re heading. If they leave before I arrive, follow them. Don’t wait for me.”

“Understood.”

Tate rang off and turned to his mate, whose eyes were bright with the same anticipation that pumped through both him and his cat. “We nearly have them.”

“As time went on, I was beginning to worry that they wouldn’t return to the casino,” said Havana, placing the pen and notepad on the coffee table.

“So was I.” Tate held up his phone. “I need to call Luke and the others so we can all get going. I don’t foresee the jaguars leaving the casino very soon, so there’s no reason for us to rush, but I’d rather we were in place just in case.”

“And if they don’t lead us to Gideon?”

“We’ll just have a little talk with them. They must know where he is. If they have any common sense, they’ll quite simply tell us.” But Tate doubted they’d cough up the information easily, which didn’t bother him at all. He had no issue doling out a little pain after all the bastards had done. Particularly since they’d have handed Havana over to Gideon if things had gone down differently. His cat was looking forward to making them pay.

“I’ll contact Aspen and Bailey and tell them to get their asses here; they should come with us.”

Tate bit back the reflexive urge to suggest that his mate remain here. It would be senseless, since she’d never agree to do so. It would also insult her, because she was more than capable of handling this situation—she’d already proven that. Plus, she was his partner, his equal. She had every right to be there.

Although her girls were often laws onto themselves, he’d been well-aware of that when he instated them as enforcers. He couldn’t argue that they’d be useful, given the skills they’d picked up from their years working for the Movement. And he’d feel more comfortable if they were there, because he knew they’d protect his mate with everything in them if necessary.

He gave Havana a quick kiss. “You make your calls. I’ll make mine.”

Soon, they had Luke, Farrell, Alex, Vinnie, Aspen, and Bailey gathered around the living room. Tate quickly brought them up to speed.

“The jaguars probably plan to hang out at the casino for a few hours at least,” hedged Vinnie.

“Probably,” said Tate, his arms folded. “But I still want to leave as soon as possible. They could head somewhere pretty far from here when they leave. The closer we are to them when they head out, the better.” He looked at Luke. “Depending on where Gideon is and how many he has with him, we may need more people. Tell the other enforcers to be ready in case we have to call on them.”

Luke gave a crisp nod and pulled out his phone. “Sure thing.”

Tate turned to Havana, impressed she stood so still and quiet when he could sense through their bond just how restless both she and her devil felt.

Havana gave him a hard look. “Don’t ask me to remain behind, Tate.”

He squeezed her hand. “Not gonna lie, I did consider doing so earlier. But I know you’d never go for it, and I know it’d be unfair of me to ask it of you.”

Havana’s hackles immediately lowered, and her devil ceased snarling. They could accept that he’d always be so overprotective providing he didn’t expect she or her devil to cater to it. Havana could no more sit out of the action than he could.

Luke ended his call. “We ready?”

“We’re ready,” said Tate.

Inside the SUV, they didn’t take the same seats as last time. Vinnie and Farrell insisted that Havana and the girls take the middle row instead of the back row. Havana quickly realized it was an acknowledgement of her new status.

Then they were on the road. It wasn’t long before Luke was parking a short distance away from the casino. Tate checked in with Chen and JP, who confirmed that the jaguars were still inside the building and that there was nothing new to report so far.

Unable to do anything but wait for Enrique and his friend to move, Havana and the others remained in the SUV. Sometimes they talked about general things, sometimes there were long periods of silence. The time seemed to tick by at an exasperatingly slow pace—especially while she was all fired up to act, knowing they were so very close to finally getting their hands on the jaguars and, ultimately, Gideon York.

Finally, Chen called again. Tate put his cell on speakerphone as he answered, “Are our boys now on the move?”

“They are,” Chen confirmed. “I’m passing you onto JP so I can concentrate on driving.”

“JP, when you catch their license plate number, text it to River,” said Tate. “Ask him to look it up.”

“No problem,” JP responded.

Luke pulled onto the road. “We’ll be close but not close enough to spot, so keep me updated on every turn you make.” The Beta trailed after their enforcers, following the directions JP gave. Before they knew it, half an hour had gone by.

“Just got a response from River,” JP announced. “The license plate number doesn’t match the car.”

“Well of course it wouldn’t be that easy,” Havana grumbled.

Luke kept on tailing Chen and JP from a distance, never coming too close lest they be seen.

Tate sat up straighter when JP announced that the jaguars had turned into a housing estate. “Don’t follow them,” Tate ordered. “Drive past the estate and park nearby.”

“There’s a wooded area behind it,” said Chen. “I’ll stop the car there.”

“We’ll be with you soon.” Tate rang off.

It wasn’t long before Luke pulled up behind Chen’s car. Everyone filed out of both vehicles.

Tate’s eyes darted from JP to Chen. “Describe the jaguar’s car.”

“It was a gray Lexus,” said JP, who then reeled off the false license plate number.

Tate turned to Farrell. “Find the Lexus. I want the jaguars’ exact location.”

The Head Enforcer quickly shed his clothes, shifted, and then flew off in his avian form. A mere minute later, he returned. Back in his human form, Farrell said, “The car’s parked in the driveway of a house that backs onto the wooded area here. There are no other cars in the driveway, and no other people were visible through the windows, so I’d say they’re alone.”

Tate licked his front teeth. “Then this is more than likely their home.”

“I wondered if the whole estate could have been claimed by Gideon for his ‘family,’ but the area doesn’t reek of various breeds of shifter,” said Farrell. “At least that means we don’t have to worry that a bunch of shifters are going to descend on us to protect the jaguars.”

“No one would descend on us anyway—we’ll be in and out of there before anyone can notice us,” said Tate. He glanced at the forest. “As their house backs onto the woods, we might as well take this route.”

As a group, they traipsed through the wooded area—skirting around trees, stepping over fallen branches, sidestepping shrubs.

Finally, Farrell halted and gestured at a house. “That’s the place.”

Courtesy of her shifter-enhanced vision, Havana was able to get a good look at the two-story building. There was a light on in a room upstairs. The curtains weren’t closed, so she could see a man who fit the description of Enrique’s friend moving around in there. More lights were on downstairs, so it was possible that Enrique was somewhere on the lower level.

“None of the windows are open at the back of the house,” Tate noted. “Alex, I need you to get us inside.”

Havana wasn’t surprised that he assigned that job to Alex. No one could keep a wolverine out of anywhere they wanted to be.

Tate ran his gaze along everyone as he said, “Okay, this is how it’s gonna go down. Havana, you and your girls deal with the shifter upstairs. Detain him, don’t kill him. And Bailey, don’t bite him. Luke, Alex—you come with me; we’ll subdue our good friend Enrique. I want people outside just in case they make a run for it or receive some visitors. Chen, JP—you two cover the front. If anyone turns up, give us the signal. Farrell, Dad—you cover the rear. When the bastards are secured, I’ll call you both inside. Now, is everyone clear on what they’re doing and where they should be?”

Each of them answered in the affirmative.

“Good, then let’s get the fuck on with this,” said Tate. He gave Havana a brief kiss. “Be careful.”

“You, too.” She, Aspen, and Bailey then melted into the shadows.

As the others took up position, Tate, Luke, and Alex crossed to the back door. The wolverine effortlessly picked the lock, and then the three of them were inside a somewhat small but stylish kitchen. Mostly white, it had an off-putting clinical feel.

Tate stood still, listening for sounds. All he could hear was the crunching of chips, the occasional deep chuckle, and a gameshow playing on the TV—all of which seemed to be coming from the other side of the house. He followed the sounds into the living room and, yeah, there was Enrique.

Sensing he wasn’t alone, the jaguar shot his gaze to the doorway. He stilled, a chip halfway to his mouth. “The fuck?” He jumped to his feet, knocking the bowl of chips onto the floor. His eyes slid to the phone on the coffee table.

“Don’t,” said Tate, his voice pitched low and deep. “This isn’t the time to do anything stupid, Enrique.”

His nostrils flaring, the jaguar clenched his fists. “Get out of my fucking house,” he spat, his voice unnecessarily loud, clearly trying to get his friend’s attention.

Tate shook his head. “He’s not coming to help you. No one is.” Tate

Tate signaled at his brother and Alex, who then quickly subdued the jaguar. “Tie him up. The dining chairs looked pretty sturdy.”

Telling himself that the silence upstairs was a good thing, Tate headed up there and made a beeline for the back bedroom. Inside, the other jaguar was gagged, out cold, and bound with zip ties.

Havana smiled at Tate and held up a wallet. “According to our boy’s ID, his name is Gavin Wheeler. I interrogated a Gavin once. He was very chatty.”

“I’m not so sure this guy will be,” said Tate. “Not if he and Enrique have served Gideon for many years.”

“You need to identify which of the jaguars is the weakest. Then you put the majority of your focus onto the strongest of the two. You make him hurt, make him bleed, put him through the kind of pain that will scare the weakest into confessing whatever he knows.” When Tate stared at her, she lifted her shoulders. “What?”

His lips twitching, Tate said, “I like how ruthless you are. Now let’s get Gavin downstairs.”

Soon, both jaguars were securely bound to dining chairs. They’d been injected with shifter-suppressing serum, just as a precaution.

Enrique glared at Tate, his body very still, his dark eyes glinting with defiance. Gavin was breathing hard and fast, sweat beading his forehead.

“I think poor Gavin is struggling to breathe,” said Havana, sounding as though she truly cared. “I’ll remove the gags. Aspen, I could use your help with that.”

Enrique and Gavin eyed them warily. Both males turned to stone when they noticed the black mamba slithering along the floor.

The moment the gags were gone, the jaguars flexed their jaws and licked their lips. They couldn’t seem to decide whether to focus on Tate or whether to keep an eye on Havana and Aspen. Apparently, the cats were smart enough to sense that they didn’t have harmless young women at their backs.

“Ooh, look at all this hair, Vana. So pretty.” Aspen none too gently yanked out Enrique’s hair tie, causing his brown hair to tumble free. She speared her fingers through it. “I wish my hair was so thick.”

Enrique jerked his head to the side, trying to avoid her hand. He glared at Tate again. “We’ll never tell you anything, no matter what you do.”

Luke smiled. “Now he’s just daring you to do your worst, Tate.”

“It would seem so.” Taking a seat at the table opposite the duo, Tate glanced from one to the other. Gavin was now trembling, eyeing the mamba slithering over his feet. And Enrique, well, he was grinding his teeth because Aspen and Havana had begun to put intricate, girly braids into his hair. Tate’s cat probably would have been amused if he wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of vengeance.

It was clear that Enrique was the more dominant personality. Gavin possessed none of his friend’s bravado. With the right amount of pushing, he’d crumble.

Tate would do just as Havana advised; he’d focus mostly on Enrique and let Gavin witness just what lay ahead for him if he didn’t talk. “You can’t save your boss from me.”

Enrique sneered. “You’ll never find him.”

“I found you.”

Enrique’s smirk faltered.

“I’m guessing you both escaped the compound with Gideon years ago. You must both be very loyal to him, considering he allowed you to live. Unlike the rest of your ‘kin.’ He killed them without blinking.”

“He didn’t take them with us because he wasn’t sure of their loyalty,” Enrique defended.

“He didn’t take them because he didn’t give a sliver of a fuck about them. They’d served their purpose. They’d helped him wipe out his pack. But he needed a few people to aid him in carrying out certain things while he laid low, didn’t he? And that’s where you both came in. All these years later, you still serve him.”

“Yeah, we do. And we won’t tell you shit about him.”

Tate idly stretched his legs out in front of him and folded his arms. “You know, I’ve heard it said … that there’s nothing more dangerous than an Alpha shifter whose mate has been threatened. It’s correct. I suppose the reason for that is twofold, really. One, our primal protectiveness is enhanced by our innate need to shield those under our care, and that primal protectiveness is a live wire when it comes to our mates. Two, our inherent instinct to take charge—not just of others, but of ourselves—pushes us to pursue the things we want, and that means our prey drive is so much more intense.

“Your patriarch became my prey when he targeted my mate. I’ll never stop hunting him. Never. And I will find him, even if it takes years. So you see, you really can’t save him from me. But you can save yourselves from a night of pure and utter agony by simply being cooperative. Tell me where he is.”

Enrique let out a long breath. “All right, fine. He lives on Hampton Road. Or is it Chancellor Street? Hmm, it could even be Cleaver Avenue. You know, I really can’t be sure.” His head jerked as he hissed.

“Sorry,” said Aspen. “Didn’t mean to pull your hair so hard. It was a total accident.”

Alex sidled up to Tate, his eyes on their captives. “Gideon’s worth going through hours of excruciating pain? To him, you’re nothing but a couple of easily replaceable employees. Loyal, sure, but still replaceable. Your deaths will be no more than a minor hindrance to him, if that.”

“Wrong,” Enrique bit out. “You kill us, he’ll make you pay.”

Noticing that the mamba was now beginning to twine her body around Enrique’s leg, Tate flicked up a brow. “And why would he bother to do that? Maybe you were good little minions, but not good enough to avoid getting caught.” Tate paused. “I want his location.”

“I’d tell you, I would, but it’s hard to remember,” said Enrique. “My memory isn’t what it used to be.”

Wicked fast, Havana twisted a hand in his hair and yanked his head back. She smiled down at him. “Well, hello.” She slashed her claws across his face.

Enrique hissed between his teeth, the sound edged with pain.

Music filled the air as Vinnie chose a song from the selection on his cell phone. “Thought it might be good to disguise the screams. We don’t want the neighbors coming to investigate, do we?”

“He looks pretty with those braids,” said Aspen. “I think he’d look even prettier with some piercings.” She stabbed a claw through his earlobe, eliciting another hiss from him. “Whoops! Made that hole a little too big. Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll be more careful when piercing your nipple, I swear.” Aspen ripped open his tee and pressed the tip of her claw against his nipple.

“Where will we find Gideon?” Havana asked him ever so pleasantly.

“Fuck you,” Enrique gritted out. He again bit back a cry as Aspen sliced right through his nipple. He didn’t make a sound when she sliced through the left one either. Or when she “pierced” his nose, or his eyebrow. But when she mentioned piercing his cock, the guy’s entire body went rigid.

Tate pushed to his feet, slid the small table aside, and stepped forward. “Where do we find Gideon?”

Enrique snarled. “Fuck y—” He grunted as Tate slammed his fist into the guy’s jaw. “Bastard.”

“So I’ve been told.” Adrenaline pumping through him, Tate hit him again and again. Not in anger, not from a loss of control. No, it was a methodical beating designed to both make Enrique cave and Gavin piss his pants. And his cat enjoyed every moment of it.

Tate occasionally stopped, giving the captives a chance to talk, but they kept silent. So he pummeled Enrique’s face until the jaguar’s eyes swelled, his nose broke, his lips split, and his cheekbone fractured.

His knuckles a little banged up, Tate again asked, “Where do we find Gideon? It’s such a simple question. One of you needs to be smart and answer it.”

Enrique spat at him instead. There was a lot of blood mixed with his saliva.

Alex tutted. “That was a very stupid thing to do.” He snapped one of Enrique’s fingers, causing the cat to finally cry out.

Gavin looked away, but Havana gripped his head and forced him to watch as Tate again beat on Enrique, careful where and how hard he hit. He wanted the jaguar to break, not slip into unconsciousness.

“Not telling you shit, Dever—” Enrique screamed as the mamba constricted around his leg, crushing bones.

Havana sighed. “He’s not going to talk, Tate. Other than to swear at you, that is.”

Tate shrugged. “Then he doesn’t need his tongue anymore, does he?”

Gavin’s eyes widened in alarm. Enrique’s eyes probably would’ve done the same if they weren’t almost completely swollen shut.

Aspen held Enrique’s jaw wide open while Luke drew out the man’s tongue.

“A few slices from your claw should sever it easily enough,” Havana said to Alex, who’d unsheathed his large, curved claws.

Gavin panted heavily, his face losing its color.

Still gripping the cat’s head, Havana said, “Gavin, if you want your friend to keep his tongue, you need to tell us where to find Gideon. And if you don’t, if Enrique here loses his tongue … well, he can’t talk anymore, can he? So the only person we’d be able to question is … you. Yes, we’d have to turn all our attention onto you. I don’t think you’d like that Gavin. Nobody would. Save yourself and Enrique. Tell us what we want to know.”

Enrique squirmed, trying to speak but unable to while Luke held his tongue out. But the jaguar soon stilled when Tate aimed his claw just right, ready to slice through the appendage.

“No!” Gavin burst out. “Stop! You’ve hurt him enough!”

“We wouldn’t have had to hurt him at all if he’d just answered Tate’s question,” said Havana. “When you think about it, he did this to himself in a roundabout way. But there’s no reason for it to go on any longer. It can all stop right now. Providing somebody tells us where Gideon lives.”

Tate hummed. “I don’t hear anyone talking.” He signaled at Alex, who lifted his claw ready to slice right through Enrique’s tongue and—

“We don’t know!” Gavin shouted.