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“Old contacts?”
“Human comrades, who think I still work for Russian Intelligence.”
“You mean you are a double agent as well?”
Lev narrowed his eyes at her. “Too many questions.” He never shared anything about his other non-lycan dealings with anyone.
“Oh. Right. Never mind.”
They remained silent as they made their way down the path. Halfway down, a commotion outside a cluster of three isolated mountain homes caught her attention. She stopped and pointed.
An old Sherpa sat on a rock, talking to a little boy sobbing.
Rachel broke away from him and approached them.
Lev caught up to her in seconds and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”
She wiggled out of his hold. He let go, not wanting to anger her, although that had never stopped him before. She frowned. “Finding out if there is anything I can do.”
“Don’t worry. The boy’s mother is in childbirth. Her moans upset him.”
“You can hear…” She rolled her eyes. “Never mind.” She walked over to them and sat next to the crying boy. “What’s wrong?”
The Sherpa spoke English. “His mother is having a baby, but the baby is turned around and our midwife can’t make it here.”
“I’m a doctor. I’ll help.”
Lev grabbed her and pulled her in. “Rachel, I need to get you to safety.”
She whispered, “I’m a doctor first and a Stallo woman second.”
“We don’t have time. Anyway, you work on diseases not maternity.”
“In the field, I’m a jack of all trades. Probably delivered more babies than the average doctor.” She met his eyes. “The baby is breech. I can help.” She pulled away. “Don’t even think of using mind control or carrying me out fireman style.”
Already, she knew him so well. Of course, he could use mind control and the entire incident with the crying boy would be as if it never happened. Lev, who had the makings of an enforcer to discipline other werewolves, allowed a little human to scold him. Yet, the idea of her being his mindless puppet bothered him. Never would he break her spirit. He huffed. “Very well, but hurry. I’ll keep watch.”
Rachel turned to the old man. “Take me.”
They disappeared into the small home, and Lev sat on a boulder. A woman gestured to him. She spoke in broken English, “Come. Tea. Warm.”
“No, thank you. I am enjoying the view.”
The woman gave him a quizzical look before returning inside. As if she knew. Some humans perceived their kind and this one, perhaps a shaman, could.
Lev surveyed the mountain they had just scaled. How soon before the rogue pack appeared? While escaping down the mountain, he’d heard the helicopter land where they had just spent the night.
In the distance, he heard their howls. Four of them. The pack must have scented out their buried dead. Inside the cavern, they would scent Rachel. Him. Their lingering smell of sex. His claim. Would they gather the bones of their fallen? Or hunt him in blood revenge and return for the bodies later?
The old man came out. “The doctor wanted me to tell you, she’s making progress and it won’t be long.”
“Is there a phone I can use?”
“Sorry, not charged. No power.”
That explained why the family hadn’t called for help. “Thank you, my friend.”
The woman’s screams almost drowned out the sound of an approaching helicopter. Shit. It flew by, heading for the village below. Once they landed, they would follow their scents to the isolated dwelling. Who knew how long the labor and one with complications would last?
