Alpha's Revenge (Shifter Ops 3)

“I had KP duty last week,” Deke says.

Channing crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah, and you fed us bacon and eggs five days straight.”

“Mmm,” Lance smacks his lips. “Breakfast for dinner. Brinner.”

“My wolf can’t handle that shit,” Channing says. “I need variety. I have a very sensitive palate.”

“Your wolf went dumpster diving and ate garbage last time we went on a run,” Lance retorts, and Channing lunges for him.

Deke grabs Channing before he gets too far, and I stop Lance with a barked order, “Enough! I just got off the phone with the Colonel.”

The relaxed, playful manner of the three soldiers falls away as they pivot to face me.

“What did he say?” Lance asks, no trace of his earlier joking smirk.

“Johnson’s still looking into the leak,” I say. “In the meantime, we’re grounded.”

“What?” the pack explodes. “What about Dieter?”

“Sidelined until further notice. Absolutely no freelancing. Johnson made that clear.”

Channing curses and kicks the kitchen trash can. Not a hard kick, but he’s a wolf, so the metal canister goes flying.

Deke catches it and frowns at the dent in its side.

“Aww, Channing,” Lance groans. “That’s the third one this month.”

“Sorry. This sucks.” With his ruffled hair and scowl, Channing looks like a three-year-old denied a lollipop. But I get the feeling.

“It does suck,” I say. “I’d love nothing more than to greenlight an op. Kick down Dieter’s door and bring him in. But we still don’t know why or where Dieter got those silver bullets. We gotta play the long game.”

There’s a little more grumbling, but I know they get the message. I clear my throat. “Another thing. We’re on lockdown, starting now. No one comes in or out of HQ without my leave.”

Lance perks up at this. His wolf’s in protective mode because he and his mate are expecting a child. “What’s the threat?”

“Dieter knew about you,” I tell him. I was holding this information back because he had enough going on with trying to get his mate back. “And our family, our past. He asked me if I wanted revenge.”

Lance whirls and kicks the trashcan Deke just set down. The container goes banging down the hall. It’s hell on the floor, but it makes a satisfying sound.

“Do we need to move our mates in here?” Deke asks. His whole body is tense. He looks like he’s ready to run out the front door and head to Sadie’s townhouse ASAP.

“Not at this junction. If I get more intel, you’ll be the first to know. For now, just notify me if you’re coming or going. Keep your phone on at all times. And no visitors. Obviously, your mates are still welcome.” I glance at Lance and Deke.

I still can’t get used to the idea of half our pack having mates. We went from a light, tight team of soldiers to… something very different. More pack-like. More like a family, which makes my wolf nearly crazy with the need to protect the weaker, fragile members—two human females and an unborn pup. I mean, fuck, what if it had been Lance who was shot with silver and what if he hadn’t made it? He would have orphaned the child he hasn’t even met.

Unthinkable. But I have to think about it and plan for everything. It’s my job, my role. It’s what makes me an Alpha.

“No more murdering vegetables,” I say to Channing. “I’ll pick up something from the Grille.” The biggest perk of owning a restaurant— free takeout. And now we can buy steak and beer wholesale.

“What do we eat tomorrow?” Deke asks. He’s retrieved the metal trash can, which is now so dented up, it’s useless.

“I’ll figure it out.” I beckon for him to toss me the trash can, and when he does, I catch it and crumple it into a ball. Not the most elegant use of my shifter strength, but it’s satisfying. I pretend the metal is Gabriel Dieter’s head.

When I’m done, the trash can is a whorl of twisted metal, good for nothing except maybe to be used as a nice, heavy paperweight.

“I could try bacon and eggs,” Channing is musing.

I throw the crumbled ball at his head. He catches it easily, and I point a stern finger at him. “No more cooking, soldier. Nothing but toast. That’s an order.”

3

Adele

I pull up at the Grille and angle my rearview mirror to put some lipgloss on. Rafe Lightfoot may get under my skin with his drill sergeant confidence and manner, but I’ve caught him looking me up and down on the nights my girl squad goes out with his crew. I’ve checked his tight ass out plenty of times. There’s a little sizzle between us on the rare occasions our eyes meet. We can’t stand each other, but we have chemistry. And I guess if I’m sinking low enough to ask him for a job, I might as well use the only weapon I have left.