Page 52 of Crimson Moon Falling

“I know. Conall said Sawyer is sending Malcolm, one of his medics, and an enforcer. They’ll be here tomorrow morning.”

Parker’s mouth quirked. “The Scottish asshole? Christ, I bet Conall loves that.”

Conall didn’t like Malcolm. It had everything to do with the Scott hitting on me before he knew Conall had already staked his claim. Malcolm shielding me from him at the Southwestern States Pack house in Las Vegas was icing on the cake.

Parker took a pull from his beer. “While you were scheming with the Alphas, I made a few calls of my own. My Marine buddy, Decker, runs air transport for a private contractor. He has a Black Hawk we can use for transport.”

I blinked. “Okay. Do we need something that big?”

“Yeah.” Parker’s grin was all teeth. “A UH-60 with twin engines, a four-bladed main rotor, and the beast can carry eleven fully loaded troops plus crew. Perfect for us. We’re not schlepping in twelve miles again with Marlowe lurking around. We’re flying in and doing it fast.”

I sat up straight, and even my implant seemed to vibrate. If Marlowe had to hike out and procure reinforcements, I could actually beat him to the coordinates. The device began calculating distances, flight times, and landing zones. And the cost.

My excitement died. “How much is he charging? Fergus isn’t going to approve the expense.”

He smirked. “More than your salary can afford, but Conall’s Pack will be footing the bill. Apparently, he’s not taking any chances after what happened to Jamie and the troll.”

Something warm uncoiled in my chest. Conall was in D.C., neck-deep in the Pack Council and the proposed legislation, yet still found a way to help me from thousands of miles away.

“Good. There’ll be enough room for the hellhounds too.”

Parker cocked an eyebrow. “On a Black Hawk?”

“I need them. Mangus protected me, and Athena took out one of their people.” I instinctively rubbed at my cheek where she’d left a nice chunk of brain splatter.

He grimaced. “Where are they?”

“At the ranger station with Beau and his people. I need to go get them.”

Parker scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t like this. Marlowe’s out there with God knows how many more operatives, and now he’s got an implant and whatever fucked-up Compulsor bullshit you described. But you still want to waltz back in.”

“We need to find out what’s there. Viggo disappeared, and Zaria was murdered because of it.”

“Alright.” He finished off his beer. “Decker will land at the West Yellowstone airport at zero six hundred. Tell Malcolm and his crew they need to be there by then. We load up, fly in, and hopefully find whatever the hell your father was chasing.” He stood, stretching his back with a series of pops that made me wince. “But the hellhounds ride in the cargo bay. Decker’s not gonna be thrilled about sulfur-breathing demon dogs in his bird.”

“They’re cadejos,” I corrected automatically.

“That’s what I said. Mangus smells like death and looks like he crawled out of a nightmare, and I’m pretty sure the white one was reincarnated from a honey badger. But if you say they’re coming, they’re coming.” He picked up his jacket from the back of the chair. “I’ll get the dogs, and you get some sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long fucking day.”

I showered and sprawled on the bed with an arm over my eyes, listening to Parker come back and Mangus grunting by the fireplace. Outside, Old Faithful erupted on schedule, a distant roar of water and steam that rattled the windowpanes. I counted the seconds of the eruption, the implant logging the data without conscious thought.

Marlowe was out there with an implant like mine and Compulsor abilities that shouldn’t exist. I curled onto my side and reached for the bond. It pulsed faintly. Conall was fighting his own battles, and somewhere in these mountains, my father’s ghost was waiting for me.

The next morning, the sky outside my window had gone from black to a charcoal gray. Parker was already up, and the smell of coffee drifted on the cold morning air.

I lay still for another thirty seconds, cataloging my body. My thigh wound ached when I moved, stiff from the cold, but my head was clear.

When I came out, Parker slid a cup of tea toward me without looking up from the map spread on the kitchen table. Freda came out of her room, fully dressed and ready to go, and we were out the door five minutes later.

The West Yellowstone airport was quiet, and the enormous Black Hawk sat on the far end of the tarmac, rotors still. I’d seen helicopters before, but this machine was massive.

Decker stood next to the fuselage, arms folded, watching us pull in. He was Parker’s height but broader through the chest, with a salt-and-pepper buzz cut and that stillness that marked him as ex-military. He and Parker did the shoulder-clasp-back-slap thing.

Then he looked past Parker and saw Mangus and Athena. “No.”

“They’re with her.” Parker jerked his chin at me.

Decker glared, and I stared back. “I need them.”