Feral (Wolf Ranch 3)

Okay, he didn’t love Murrieta. I could use that to my advantage.

“How did he get you into this?” I asked, feigning sympathy. “What’s he got on you?” I really wished I had a recording device on me, in case I got anything out of him that could be used in court. It would still be great to hear the whole plan from the horse’s mouth. While I had him with the drugs, the puzzle wasn’t complete.

“Let’s just say he didn’t understand the concept of risk in his investments.”

“When you were in New York you invested his money in a hedge fund and lost it,” I said, thinking aloud. Now the connection between the two men made more sense. “He holds you responsible.”

“Shut up!” he snapped, the gun wavering. “Get down on your knees. Keep your hands in the air. What agency are you from?”

“DEA,” I said to mollify him. He wasn’t a bad guy like Murrieta, only caught up and used as one of his many pawns. Sure, he was a dick and deserved to be behind bars, but he was a low-level thug and had little experience with this aspect of drug running. He was starting to lose it, and I didn’t want to get my head shot off because he panicked. I slowly lowered to my knees, hands in the air. I just needed a momentary distraction—time enough to reach for the gun at my back.

“Where’s your partner?”

I thought quickly. Should I pretend to have a partner? I wasn’t sure if it would buy me time either way, but I answered, “Searching your house.”

He spared a quick glance toward the open barn door, but it wasn’t long enough for me to reach for my gun. I had to keep him talking until that moment came.

“So, Murrieta has you running drugs for him,” I said, stalling. “Did he buy you this ranch? Or was this your idea? I bet you don’t even like Montana.”

“Shut up!” Markle shouted, stepping toward me. He held the gun right to my temple. “Shut the hell up.”

“I’m impressed. You’ve had even the DEA stumped. How are you doing it?” I wanted to play into his vanity, to his need for power.

“Cattle trailer.” His ego’s too big not to tell.

“Cattle trailer to Canada? Smart. Some way to get narcotics over the border. Where’s the holding location? I looked at the stack of crates beside me. Not here.”

HIs eyes narrowed. “How’d you connect me with him? What tipped you off?”

We were both trying to get information out of each other before he pulled that trigger.

“We traced a payment from his off-shore account to yours before you bought the place.” I fed him a bone. “So, you keep the shipments light and frequent to avoid suspicion. Selling just a few head of cows to Canada every other week.”

Markle pursed his lips, eyes narrowed.

I kept talking. “Why do you want the Shefield land so much?” I wondered. That was one thing I never understood. Why make trouble if he didn’t want to bring attention to himself?

“Murrieta wants a runway.”

Ah. The land was big enough for that, especially if he took down the fence at the property line. It would work for small planes to move drugs easily. They flew low and stayed off the radar.

He cocked the gun. “Enough talking.”

“You don’t want to kill me,” I said, my voice sounding more stable than I expected, even though my heart was beating double time and sweat dripped down my back. “You definitely don’t want to add a murder charge to trafficking of narcotics.”

“Oh, I’m not going to kill you. You’re right. I don’t need that kind of rap. I’m going to give you to Murrieta for his flesh trade. He has a special affinity for white women. Especially those he feels have crossed him. Torture is his specialty.” Markle gazed down at me with cruelty in his expression. Issuing threats had calmed him, though. The gun was steady now in his hand. He’d regained his footing.

That meant I was in big trouble.

27

ROB

I knew immediately Natalie—Willow—wasn’t in the house. I would’ve heard her breathing. Hell, even her pulse. Now that I’d made the choice that she was to be mine… officially, my wolf was attuned to her. Or the lack of her.

Her scent was in the air around the exterior of the house but not strong. There was a distinct path of the scent. She rarely used the front door. My wolf picked her up going in and out of the back door more. I followed across the back porch and back down the steps, across the grass and toward—

“Fuck,” I said, cutting through the night. She was at Markle’s.

I knew it. My wolf knew it. It was after eleven. Unless she was at his place to fuck, she was there for work. I didn’t even give the first any thought. I’d satisfied her. She didn’t need Markle for that. Besides, now that I could see past my anger at her secrets, I knew she would never cheat. She’d been just as invested in us as I’d been.