Wicked Cravings (The Phoenix Pack 2)

Trey studied him closely and narrowed his eyes. “You will not head out there the second Jaime’s leg has been taken care of to go hunt those a**holes, understand?” Dante growled again, further incensed by the way that Trey had seen right through him. “They shot her, Trey. Shot her. I can’t let that slide.” His wolf was in full agreement. No one got to harm Jaime and live.

“And we won’t let that slide, I can promise you that. So there’s no need for you to turn vigilante on us. If I have to, I’ll order you not to do it, and then I’ll have the enforcers take care of this.”

“No f**king way. Jaime’s mine. Her shit is my shit, and those bastards are mine. It’s difficult enough not to go to Nick’s territory and rip out Glory’s throat—her being female doesn’t mean shit to me or my wolf right now.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” said Trey. “But you’ve got to get a hold of yourself, Dante.”

“Get a hold of myself? You’re kidding me, right?”

“Do you remember that time when I almost attacked Tao because he’d told Taryn he wanted to mate with her?”

Suddenly Tao was looking anywhere but at them.

“Do you remember what you said to me?” persisted Trey. “You said that I had to choose what was more important—kicking the living shit out of Tao, or making sure that Taryn stayed. I knew you were right when you said she’d have left if she thought she was causing fights within the pack. You told me to go to her and make sure she was okay. So I calmed my ass down and I went to her. You need to do the same now. Pick which is more important—going off on your own personal crusade, or being here for Jaime while she needs you. From what I heard, you let her down when she needed you once before. Do you really want to do that again?”

For a long moment, Dante didn’t speak. “I hate that you’re right.”

“I know. I hate it when you’re right. In the morning, we’ll discuss how we deal with this. For now, just concentrate on Jaime.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me that Jaime was hurt?” Taryn practically screeched as she stomped toward them, cutting off what Dante was about to say. Marcus wasn’t far behind her, giving Trey an apologetic look.

“You were supposed to be guarding her,” Trey growled at Marcus.

“You mean he was supposed to stop me from leaving the room.” Trey blocked her path, but the tiny female was peering under his arm, trying to get a look at Jaime. “She’s been shot!”

“Yes, she’s been shot but—”

“She needs healing.”

“Grace and Lydia are taking care of it,” Trey assured her in a voice someone might use to soothe a mental person having a tantrum.

“Yeah, with tweezers, bandages, and all that medical crap. I can have her fully healed in under a minute.”

“Yes, baby, you can, but we agreed that you wouldn’t use your healing gift while you were pregnant, remember. Your gift makes you tired and weak—”

She snorted. “You agreed on it, Flintstone. I did no such thing.” Sighing, Trey picked her up and headed for their room. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.

We’ll play Hiding Pedro. That should calm you down.”

“Why do you always try to use sex to calm me?”

“Because it works, my crazy little nympho.”

“Ass.”

Once his Alphas had disappeared down the tunnel, Dante turned back to Jaime. The sight of her there, pallid and tired, made him want to kick himself. How hadn’t he sensed that someone was there watching them? He, with all his training, should have known immediately and gotten to the bastard before he could hurt her or anyone else. She was his, he should have protected her, that was how it worked.

“If you’re standing there blaming yourself, I’ll bitch slap you, Dante. Seriously, don’t make me do it.”

Jaime’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts and made him smile. He noticed that Grace and Lydia were also smiling. Approaching the bed, he ran a hand over her hair and sighed. “I should have sensed he was there.” Grace appeared to have given up trying to keep him from Jaime, because she didn’t scowl at him this time, though she did make a Greta-like humph sound.

“The enforcers didn’t sense him either. Whoever he is, he knows what he’s doing. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t been in position for more than ten seconds before firing. It would be his best shot—no pun intended—at avoiding detection.” A few months ago, she would never have made any such prediction, but Dante’s training had changed her in many ways.

His thoughts exactly. “You’re a good student.”

“You prefer it when I’m bad.” She flinched when Lydia jabbed her arm with a needle.

“Goddamn it, Lydia.”

“It’s just another painkiller,” she explained, looking sheepish. “The first one wore off fast.” Grace gave Jaime an apologetic smile. “Sorry, but we have to keep the good stuff for when Taryn goes into labor. Dante, would you get Jaime something clean to wear? Her clothes are covered in blood. So are yours, actually. You could do with a quick shower.” Yeah, he thought, but that would involve leaving Jaime’s side.

“Go on,” Grace encouraged softly. “It’ll only take you a minute. Your wolf isn’t going to calm down while you have her blood all over your skin and clothes.” No, he probably wouldn’t, but all the same…

Jaime growled. “Oh for the love of God, Dante, go take a shower, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, I’m going.” If she was well enough to growl and snap at him, she was well enough to be alone for a few minutes. “I’ll close the door while you strip.” After what had to have been the quickest shower in the history of the world, he returned to Jaime’s side with one of his T-shirts that she liked to sleep in. He helped her slip it on and was about to insist on being left alone with her when suddenly he heard his name being quietly called. He frowned when he saw Trey in the doorway again. “What is it?” he asked as he approached him, wondering why his Alpha was speaking quietly.

“Dominic just called me. Ryan got the bastard.”

Dante snorted. “Of course he did. He’s like a ghost when he’s tracking.”

“The shooter…He’s not one of Glory’s brothers.”

Taken aback, Dante shook his head as if to clear it. “What? Who is he?”

“They don’t know. He won’t talk.”

“Did they put him in the hut?” The hut was the place where they took intruders for a “chat.”

“Yes. I know ordinarily the interrogating would be up to you, but…” Trey eyed him speculatively, and Dante knew why.

“I’ll be fine with this.”

“The whole matter’s too close to home for you.”

“Which is why it has to be me. You’d say the same thing if this was Taryn.” After a few moments, Trey nodded.

“I’m going, too.”

Both Dante and Trey frowned at the pasty yet fearless-looking female on the bed for eavesdropping. “No, you’re not,” snapped Dante. “You’re staying here.”

“You don’t get to order me around, Popeye.”

“No,” agreed Trey. “But I do.”

“If someone shot me, I have the right to find out why,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Dante will find that out for you.” He turned back to Dante. “Go. I called the enforcers.

They’re all making their way to the hut as we speak.”

Dante gave him a nod of thanks. The last thing he wanted to do was leave Jaime’s side right now, but this was something he needed to do. With one last look at her, he left.

“I don’t believe this,” griped Jaime.

Trey looked at her like she was dumb. “You’re as bad as Taryn. You’ve been shot—you need to rest so you can heal.”

“I need to see that a**hole so I can gouge out his eyes. That’s what I need.”

“You’ve never seen Dante interrogate someone, have you?” Most likely in response to her gulp, he correctly surmised, “But you’ve heard about it. He’s the best for a reason. He’ll do whatever he has to in order to get answers. Whatever he has to. He doesn’t want you seeing him like that.”

“I’d never judge him.” Never.

“Maybe you wouldn’t, but he won’t risk that. When he goes into that ‘zone,’ as Dominic calls it, he’s not the same person. Not because he’s cruel or likes to inflict pain, but because he will never put people under his protection in danger, and if that means inflicting pain, then that’s what he’ll do.

That wolf in the hut—he isn’t just some guy who was roaming too close to our territory, he’s someone who hurt you. Dante won’t have one ounce of mercy in his system, just as I wouldn’t if it was Taryn.

If you care for him, Jaime, respect his wish to do this without you and don’t give him a hard time about it later.”

“Whatfreakingever,” she grumbled.

Sensing that she had backed down, he nodded approvingly. “I hope you meant what you said about not judging him, because there’s no way he’ll let that guy live.” The second Dante stepped into the hut, the lanky wolf’s eyes widened and he began struggling against his bonds. Obviously, then, he knew all about Dante’s reputation as an interrogator. Not many didn’t, which was why the wolf’s struggling wasn’t an uncommon reaction. Although Dante had never gotten any pleasure or satisfaction out of the process, he wondered if this time might be a little different.

He was literally hungering to see the person who dared to hurt Jaime in the same kind of pain that she was going through at his hands. Maybe that was wrong, sick, and even callous, but right then he simply didn’t care. His usual morals were buried beneath the rage that was coursing through him, demanding some form of retribution. He understood now just how hard it had been for Trey to hold back and play the waiting game after those wolves attacked Taryn. Jaime was his and would always come before everything else—even his conscience.

With slow, casual steps, Dante came to stand before the male. Like his enforcers, Dante didn’t recognize him or his scent. He had racked his brain, trying to think of people who might want to hurt him and would think to use Jaime to do it. He had as many enemies as the next person. But an enemy who hated him enough to hurt someone close to him? The only ones who came to mind were Glory and her brothers—which made him think that this male in front of him was linked to them in some way. But this seemed out of character for the brothers. Crazy people tended to do their own dirty work, because they enjoyed it.

Dante’s wolf growled and bucked, wanting freedom so that he could tear apart this male who had hurt Jaime; his struggle to be free was so fierce that Dante’s eyes flashed wolf. The male in front of him struggled harder, pulling against the rope that bound both of his wrists to the arms of the chair.

Dante’s wolf liked that the male’s fear was practically pulsing in the air, relished the scent of it.

“Name?” The male didn’t answer, and Dante hadn’t expected him to. Dominant wolf or not, he would be intimidated by the sight of Dante and the enforcers, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t take a fair bit of pressure before the wolf would break. “Name.” It was a demand this time, not a question.

Sweat was beading the captive’s forehead and greasing his hair. “Fuck you.”

“Good name, I like it. Easy to remember. Mind if I call you Fuck for short?” He ignored the scowl directed at him. “Why don’t you start by explaining what inspired you to hang around our territory with a rifle?” The male said nothing. As Dante bent forward, the scent of the male’s fear in the air rocketed. “I asked you a question. You don’t have to answer it. In fact, I’m hoping you don’t.”

“Fuck you.”

Dante smiled crookedly. “You’re not going to be cooperative? I love it when that happens. An interrogation’s no fun without a bit of torture mixed in, don’t you agree?”

“If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.”

“I would if I could, Fuck, but as it turns out you’ve got some info I need. Please tell me you’re not ready to share it, because I haven’t got to the fun part yet.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” he growled.

“Good.” Dante grabbed the little finger of Fuck’s left hand and snapped the bone. After the scream of pain faded, Dante asked, “Who are you, and why did you target my female?”

“Fuck you.”

Dante grabbed the next finger up on his left hand and snapped it backward. Fuck’s howl of pain was just as ear piercing as the last. Dante repeated the question with the same amount of patience as before. “Who are you, and why did you target my female?”

“Fuck you.”

He wrenched hard at Fuck’s third finger. Maybe the screams should have made him wince and penetrated his enraged state, but all Dante could think was that these fingers belonged to a hand that had aimed a gun at Jaime and shot her. “I don’t think I have to point out that if you drag this out, this is going to continue for a while.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m beginning to think you have a very limited knowledge of the English language.” Dante snapped his index finger. “Has that answer come to you yet?”