For a long moment, their gazes held. His amber eyes asked her a wealth of questions. Did she want him to stay? Did she want him to watch the men’s backs? What did she want him to do?
“Go,” she said, motioning toward the house with tears in her eyes. She’d never forgive herself if anything bad happened to Ryan, Tom, or Sam and she’d denied Doc Mitchell the chance to help.
Doc hesitated, his head riveting back on the house.
She again said, “Go. Help them! I’ll be all right.”
He looked at her again, bowed his head, turned, and dashed around the back side of the place.
Her mouth gaped. Why hadn’t he gone inside? The doorway still stood wide open, as if daring her to come inside. She took a deep, unsettling breath and prayed the men would all be okay. That whoever was inside wouldn’t attack them. That they would find a vaccine.
Ryan had barely entered the old, rickety house, its wooden floors creaking as they walked inside, when he heard low growls coming from a hallway past the living room. The place smelled of mold and dust. In the main living room, where faded floral wallpaper peeled off the walls in sheets, three sofas with sagging cushions were covered with wolf fur and reeked with the odor of wet wolves. A little wolf bark emanated from a room with a closed door off to the right of the living room.
Tom motioned to the room, wanting to check it out. Dealing with a she-wolf and her pups could be a dangerous proposition, especially while the three of them were all in human form. The wolf could easily tear into them. But more of the pack might be hiding in the room, too. Ryan agreed with Tom and gave him the go-ahead.
They walked down the short hall, and when they reached the room, Tom turned the doorknob. Locked. Sam watched their backs while Tom used his lock pick on the door. The lock clicked open. He glanced at Ryan, waiting for his approval. Ryan nodded.
Tom turned the handle slowly and it moved with a rusty, grinding squeak.
A low growl came from the other side of the door. An adult female growl.
As humans, Ryan and the others had no chance against a wolf’s teeth. If it was a she-wolf and her pups, he had no intention of shooting her. But he couldn’t risk Tom’s life if the female attacked, or if others were in the room that might.
“Shift first,” Ryan whispered to Tom.
Tom’s mouth gaped.
“If she attacks, you can pin her down. I’ll do the talking.”
Tom agreed and quickly stripped out of his clothes. After shifting, he butted the door open with his nose before Ryan could push it aside, and stood in the entryway. Ryan was at Tom’s side, gun in hand, to deliver the message that he’d shoot if anyone attacked, but only if he had no other choice.
A mother wolf stood with three little ones trying to reach her teats for supper. Another female growled low as she stood nearby in a protective stance, her belly bulging with pups. She was due to birth her own litter soon.
Ryan holstered his gun. “We’re not here to hurt anyone.”
The nursing mother sat, the tension draining from her, and her pups scrambled over each other, vying for a meal. The other mother remained standing, wary and protective. As a gray male wolf, Tom was still a threat to a couple of red females.
“Can you shift back?” Ryan asked the females. The nursing mother shook her head. Just as Ryan had suspected. That meant either they had shifted after they locked the door, or someone had locked them in.
“We’ve got movement in another room,” Sam warned.
“We’ll be back for you,” Ryan said. He motioned for Tom to come with him. Once he was out of the room, Ryan shut the door so that the females couldn’t try to rescue their mates if a confrontation resulted.
Ryan, Tom, and Sam went through the living area and then a kitchen. Surprisingly, the kitchen was spotless, although coffee and tea stained much of the counter near a teakettle, and part of the backdrop was coming unglued. But the fragrance of orange cleanser wafted in the air; the counters were clean with no dishes; and the porcelain sink sparkled. He wondered if the females had recently shifted.
Another short hall led to two more rooms. The door was unlocked and yielded to show a bedroom furnished with a queen-sized bed that was richly cloaked in a velvet comforter and velvet decorator pillows, all dark brown. The walls were freshly painted, and the place appeared to be under renovation. No pictures hung on the walls, and new carpet covered the floor.
A red male had slept here, but Ryan didn’t detect any scent he’d smelled before.
They moved to the next door and found it locked. Ryan pulled out his set of lock picks, as Sam said in a hushed voice, “I smell the reds here who have been causing all the trouble.”
Ryan nodded. Then as the door lock clicked open, he hesitated.
He envisioned North or his men holding guns on him and firing as soon as he opened the door. Or standing as wolves, ready to lunge and rip their throats out. This was their territory, and Ryan, Sam, and Tom were the intruders, no matter how they justified being here.
“We’ll work with you to cure this curse you cast upon all of us,” Ryan said, his voice softly threatening, play the game or die, “and you can live. Your females and your pups need to live with a pack. One that offers more than what you have here—filth and no protection. Hell, the place ought to be condemned. But more than that, if you want to be human again…” Ryan let them draw their own conclusions.
“This isn’t where we normally live!” a male shouted from inside the room, his voice angry but shaky, too.
Ryan suspected he was holding a gun.
“I’m armed. And I know how to use the gun,” Ryan warned, in case this was the guy who’d shot him, via a ricocheted bullet off a tree.
Silence.
“Give it up, and you’ll live. Right now, you don’t have any other alternative. Do you?”
A low growl emitted from the room. Either the man had shifted, or…
“Hell, North. He’s right. Your cousin’s most likely dead. My sister’s ready to have her kids any minute. Sascha and her pups need to be in a thriving pack with decent leadership. No offense, but this isn’t the life any of us would have chosen,” the man in the room said.
“North, we need to know where the lab is,” Ryan said. “We’ll find a vaccine, develop an antidote, and take care of your people. If Lelandi’s uncle is agreeable, you can join his red pack south of here.”
Another low growl. North wasn’t going for it.
“Hell, North, that weasel of a scientist, Miller, is holding all of us hostage with this virus,” the man in the room said. “Once he learns of our bank account holdings, he’ll clean us all out. You know he will.”
Ryan waited. Sam looked like he was done waiting, his fists and teeth clenched. “Want me to shift?” he asked.
Tom’s ears were perked, his tail straight out, his posture showing his eagerness to enter the room and take care of business.
“Agreed, North?” Ryan asked. “Connor is dead. Darien was protecting his mate. Either you help us to help you, or you clear out of the area for good and figure it out for yourselves while we find the solution for our people.”
“Come on, North. I can’t hold out much longer without shifting. Maybe through the night. Maybe not that long. Then I’ll shift, and all that’s left of us is my brother, Galahad,” the man said. “Who knows how long he’ll last.”
Ryan didn’t wait any further. “Sam, call Jake, with the location, the number of wolves, who’s left in the pack—”
Someone yelled from in back of the house.
“Galahad!” the guy in the room shouted. “Deal’s off if that wolf kills him.”