Page 124 of Crimson Moon Falling

I blushed again, but this time for a different reason. “He may or may not have called his Combat Engineer buddy and taken a trip to Yellowstone to tie up that loose end.” Conall opened his mouth, but I put a finger over his mouth. “I know. But before you yell at me, I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to have plausible deniability. And it needed to be destroyed.”

He lowered an eyebrow, but his lip twitched under my finger before I pulled it away. “We need counseling to learn how to communicate better. Fuck me, we’re going to have an interesting life together, aren’t we?”

“I hope it doesn’t get too much more interesting. I need to call Fergus and find out if I still have a job.”

“If he tries to fire you for your ability to Spool, he’s an idiot. But you’ll need twenty-four-hour protection, and you’ll have to wear trackers for the rest of your life.”

A shaky breath escaped me. “I know, but it’s time to stop hiding.”

He turned us sideways and stared into my eyes. “We’ll help keep you safe. Our Pack is your family now, and you are my soulmate, Riley Blackthorne. I also want to give you a life filled with people who love you, maybe kids someday, and a safe home. When you told Fernanda I only mated with you because of your abilities, it gutted me.”

I wrapped an arm around his neck. “I’m afraid,” I admitted.

“Of what?” he whispered.

A dam broke in my chest as tears spilled down my cheeks. “That this will all go away again. My dad is dead, my mother is gone, and people close to me tend to die. You left me to suffer, and god help me, I hated you so much. But even then, I still loved you and missed the Pack. If you do something like that again, I’m gone for good.”

He gathered me into his arms and rocked me. “Never again. I’m so sorry, love. I give you my solemn pledge. If I don’t come back someday, it’s because I’m injured or dead.” Soft air swirled around us as his words settled into my soul.

Later that afternoon, I walked through the field with Mangus and Athena. Reporters were camped out at the gate, but the Pack’s public relations person, whoever that was, had taken over fielding calls and inquiries for interviews. I pulled out my phone and called Parker.

“Hey, Bug. You’ve been busy lately.”

“I’m not the only one. You and your buddies did a thorough job.”

He chuckled. “It was the most fun we’ve had in years. You told me to make sure it’d never be operational again.”

“You blew it to smithereens. I guess that’s one way.”

“You comin’ back here, or are you staying in Colorado for a while?”

“We’re coming back. You, Feeny, and my office are there. I still have a job, but Fergus yelled at me for a good ten minutes this morning, and said Dad would be livid about me exposing myself like that.”

Parker exhaled. “They’re going to try and get you to Spool for them. If you give them a fucking inch, they’ll take a hundred miles.”

“I know.”

“Eli is dead, Riles. I think he destroyed that facility in Colorado, and died on the mountain in the fire. Or they took him out.”

My heart ached, but the pain was muted. “I know that too. But I never knew why he died. And now we do.”

“Now we do,” he repeated softly. “He was a fuckin’ great brother, and my best friend. I miss him.”

I walked back to the house with the hellhounds flanking me. Mangus growled at the reporters outside the gate, but I patted his head. “It’s okay, buddy. They’ll go away when a bigger story comes along.” It wasn’t the reporters I worried about.

When we got to the house, John Bailey, Conall’s occasional FBCI partner, stood waiting on the front porch. He had a short, stocky build and salt-and-pepper hair. John was a raccoon shifter, and he was with Conall that first day when they detained me outside my ecology classroom.

He eyed the hellhounds. “I saw your interview. Damn, you’re a Spooler. No wonder you were such a big help on the ApGen case.”

“How’re your little girls? Still keeping you busy?” I didn’t want to discuss my abilities with John. He was a nice guy, and his energy was friendly and stable, but he was still a career FBCI agent.

His dimples flashed as he rocked back on his heels. “Yep. One of ‘em got into a can of paint the other day, shifted, then ran around the house, leaving little paw prints everywhere. My wife had a conniption.”

He had dried paint on his hands. “I’d like to meet them someday.”

“I hope you do.” His smile died.

“You’re not here for Conall, are you?”