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Tomlin swallowed and nodded. “His name was Sam Smith.”
Steele nodded. “One of many aliases Mr. H. went by.”
A bead of perspiration gathered on Tomlin’s forehead and he moaned.
“Should we take him to a hospital?”
“Won’t make it,” said Steele. “The pilot, was he one of your men?”
“A merc. Ken hired him a few months back.” He began to shiver. “The ass must have injected me with poison.”
“Did he ever work for the Keep?”
“No. He flew Ken with the other werewolf to that island. He answered directly to Ken until a few days ago.”
“Is the pilot human?”
“As far as I
know, yes.”
“Sleep.”
Tomlin did so. His breathing more labored.
Gaby’s eyes widened. “The pilot knew about your island?”
“And he no doubt intended to kill you when he had the chance.”
“Unfortunately, I didn’t get a look at him to see his aura.” She frowned. “I bet he was werewolf.”
“Let’s go to the lagoon.”
“Why?”
“You’re right.” Steele brushed back his hair. “Fuck. I am just picking up his scent.”
“The gators probably buried him in the muck by now.”
“We saw him fall in, but it doesn’t mean they killed him.”
“They were commanded to kill.”
“They might have tried.”
“Who could survive a gator attack?”
“A werewolf. He’d put up a real fight.” He scowled. “An oath breaker.”
“You are only now picking up his scent?”
“Just residual. He used cloaking vaporo in case he ran into a werewolf. After landing, he must have picked up my scent.”
Steele was wrong. Not even a werewolf could survive an attack by what looked like ten alligators. Gaby ordered the alligators to leave the area, while he entered the water to look for him. Pieces of the male beta proved his theory about their invincibility wrong. He dragged the leavings, his torso, head and leg to the beach.
Gaby knelt and threw up. He sighed. “You were right, no one, person or were could survive a gang of alligators.”
She stood and wiped her mouth. “It’s a congregation of alligators not gang.”
