They thought wrong.
Calmly, she reached for her purse, never happier that the captain had returned her weapon. Extracting the Glock from within and squinting, she pointed the gun at the camera lens. “Knock-knock, assholes.”
And fired, sending a shower of glass and metal raining all over the drive.
That ought to get their fucking attention. Best to meet them head-on. Stepping away from the truck, she tucked the gun into the waistband of her jeans and walked over to inspect the gate. State-of-the-art stuff, a real fortress. What was this place and how was Micah involved? She wasn’t leaving until they enlightened her.
A shuffle sounded to her left. And low growling.
Turning, she cursed softly, eyes widening. Guard dogs? Several of them, on her side of the fence, fanning out to surround her, heads down, ears flat, fangs bared. Moving almost silently through the sun-dappled forest.
But no, these weren’t dogs. They were…
Wolves! And one really large black panther?
She blinked rapidly as they approached and backed slowly toward her truck, thinking she must be seeing things. Wolves were now common in the Shoshone, thanks to wildlife rescue efforts. But she’d heard that wolves went out of their way to avoid humans. Right? Just not these wolves.
And what about the big cat? Black panthers didn’t even technically exist!
Tell that to this one.
“Stay,” she called, holding out a shaking hand. “Nice doggies. I’m not going to hurt you.”
A loud snarl came from behind her, and a glance nearly stopped her heart. One wolf had moved behind her, blocking her escape to the truck. She was completely surrounded. Her pulse beat a terrified tattoo in her throat as she gripped the butt of her gun, easing the weapon from the waist of her jeans.
Just then, the images of three of the wolves and the cat began to shimmer. Sort of like heat waves on hot pavement. Their bodies began to re-form, the fur retracting. Canine and feline limbs becoming arms and legs. What the shit? Staring, she told herself she was not seeing a group of sexy, naked men standing among the rest of the wolves and wearing a range of emotions on their faces, from amusement to grim resignation.
A dark-haired god of a man—wolf, whatever—strolled forward. “I’m Nick Westfall, commander of the Alpha Pack team. And you’re in a shitload of trouble, Miss Chase.”
How did he know her name? Rowan couldn’t catch her breath to reply, even if she could’ve formed a response. Her vision blurred and the tough woman raised in an East L.A. barrio did something she’d never done in her life. Not even when she’d been informed of Micah’s “death.”
She fainted dead away.
Two
Rowan came awake with a start and blinked at her surroundings in confusion. Immediately her brain cataloged the soft, comfortable bed she was lying in, and the modestly furnished bedroom. For a few moments she struggled to make sense of where she was and why—and then the memory returned.
As she sat up, a slight pain lanced the back of her head and she winced, probing the area with her fingers. Under her hair at the back of her skull lurked a lump that throbbed when she pressed a little too hard, but it wasn’t too bad. Anyhow, that seemed to be the least of her worries.
She’d come to this place—if she was indeed inside the compound—seeking answers about Micah and had seen… what, exactly? Then she’d fainted like a rookie observing her first autopsy. With her gun in hand.
Her gun that was now missing.
Looking to the nightstand, she reached out and opened the drawer. Empty, except for a sheet of paper typed with a list of what appeared to be phone extensions. Sliding the drawer shut, she took another survey of the room. Her purse rested on the top of the otherwise bare dresser. The black duffel bag she’d brought, stuffed with several changes of clothes and underwear, sat on the floor in front of it. She doubted very much that she’d find her weapon stashed in either one.
Pushing herself up from the bed, she wobbled over to investigate. The rest of her belongings seemed to be intact, but as expected, the gun was missing. That they’d taken it was no surprise, but being without protection was unsettling. Damn it, she felt naked without it.
Naked. Oh, God. She’d seen several wolves and a panther become hot men not wearing a stitch. Hadn’t she? Or maybe everything she’d been through in the last few months had finally sent her over the edge. Bye-bye sanity, hello blissful insanity. Maybe she’d been institutionalized and this was her jail cell, disguised as a normal room. Any minute a nurse would be by with medication that would send her back to the land of happiness and light.
“Oh, good, you’re awake!”
Turning, Rowan blinked at the attractive woman standing in the bedroom doorway wearing a white doctor’s coat over a green blouse and black pants. “Shit, I did go crazy,” she murmured.
“Excuse me?”
She waved a hand at the woman’s attire. “Which are you, my nurse or my psychiatrist? Because I’m pretty sure I’ve suffered a break from reality and you’re my keeper.”
The brunette laughed good-naturedly, and pushed a lock of long, curly hair from her face, tucking it behind one ear. “I’m Dr. Mackenzie Grant, but no, I’m not your doctor, warden, or anything else. I’m just here to make sure you’re all right. You took a nasty bump to your head when you passed out.”
“Right. When I checked out because I saw… or thought I saw…” Frowning, she trailed off.
The doctor cleared her throat. “Yes, well. Nick will want to talk with you about that, I’m sure.”
“Nick Westfall,” she recalled. “Your commander.”
“Not my commander, exactly, but yes. He’s the head honcho around here. He leads the Alpha Pack team.”
“Who are wolves and cats in disguise.”
The other woman’s gaze was sympathetic. “I’m sorry, I really can’t talk about—”
Rowan gave a laugh that was half-hysterical, dripping with sarcasm. “Of course not.”
“Nick will tell you everything he feels you need to know, but after that we can talk all you want.”
The doc was loyal, at least. She could respect that. “When does he want to see me?”
“As soon as you’re feeling up to it. I can take you to his office now if you’d like, Miss Chase.”
“Call me Rowan. Wait, how did you know my name?” She cast a suspicious look at her purse. Had these people gone through her things?
“Nick told us.”
That’s right—Westfall had called her by name the moment they met. “And how did he know? Did someone alert him that I was on my way?” Rowan frowned. Dean wouldn’t have betrayed her, she was certain. “Never mind. I’m sure that’s another one of those things he’ll have to tell me. And believe me, Dr. Grant, he’d better.”
“Mackenzie or Mac is fine,” the woman said amiably, ignoring Rowan’s last remark. “Are you ready?”
“Sure, lead the way.”
Glancing at her purse and bag again, she opted to leave them behind. She wasn’t carrying much cash, and only a couple of credit cards. No, if these people had planned to keep her stuff they would’ve taken the rest along with her gun. She followed the doctor from the bedroom, through a furnished living room, to the door, and out into a carpeted hallway lined with more doors, all numbered. Quickening her pace, she fell into step beside the other woman.
“So, this area is what? Like a dorm?” she guessed.
Mackenzie nodded. “Yes, but unlike dorms, the residence wings are fully equipped apartments, and we aren’t required to share quarters. Privacy is a highly valued commodity in a busy place where so many of us live and work, and it’s usually in short supply.”