A fury of claws and teeth took out five of them and sent the fifth one running for the hills. He didn’t make it far before being scooped up in the powerful jaws of Ronan, who—despite being the youngest brother and least imposing in human form, was the deadliest in bear form. His agility and speed made up for his lack of stature. He returned to them, trotting down the road with the broken man between his teeth and dropped him beside the other bodies. Shifting back into human form, they stood naked over their prey.
“What now?” Niall asked.
“Clean up the mess and get on with things. You watch the van and the road while we get them in the burner. We should be clear before anyone can figure out they ain’t coming back.”
“We still going to the clubhouse?” Olcan asked.
“Yes. Something is going on here. They came right to us. How’d they know where to find us or who we are? Someone’s got a big mouth. We need to find that hole and patch it. I was lucky to get a heads up from one of the locals that they were looking for us, but they wouldn’t have found us without some help.”
They fell silent as they began hauling bodies down to the basement and cranked up the furnace. It would take some time for this many bodies to go up, and someone would need to stay and keep feeding the flames. Niall called in some of their clan brothers to help and in case anyone else showed up looking for a fight. They were moving the last bodies when a car appeared at a distance.
“Get him on down there,” Fergus told his brothers, waiting to see who turned up this time. “Fuck,” he groaned when the car came closer into view. He could make out the distinct outline of the lights atop the patrol car now that it was closer to him. He stood behind the back doors of the van, yanking on one of the pairs of coveralls they kept on hand as a single cop stepped out of the car and began walking toward him.
“Afternoon,” the cop said.
“Afternoon. You’re a bit out of your jurisdiction, aren’t ya, peeler?”
“Peeler? This ain’t Ireland, buddy.”
“And I ain’t your buddy, mate.”
The police seemed unbothered by the attitude. In a place like this, he was likely used to the abuse. He motioned toward the van.
“What’s in the van?”
“Nothing you need to see,” Fergus sneered.
“Is that so? You got a license and registration?”
“Nope.”
“Who owns the van?”
“No idea.”
“Who drove it here?”
“No idea.”
“That’s the way we’re...” the cop started to say but was distracted by something nearby. He turned to get a better look, and Fergus looked toward too, noting the barrel of the gun sticking out from beneath the front tire of the abandoned car their guests had been driving. “Is this your car then?” the cop asked, pretending he hadn’t seen the gun, but beginning to look a bit uncertain about not having backup.
“Nope.”
“Let me guess. You have no idea who owns it or drove it here.”
“Aye. Spot on.”
The cop gritted his teeth and pulled a notepad from his pocket, jotting down the tag number on the van and then walking around the car to do the same with the tag there. Fergus groaned. He didn’t have time for this nonsense. He began walking toward the cop. He could see the panic the moment he rounded the back of the car.
“Stop right there,” the cop shouted at him, unholstering his gun.
“Give me your notebook,” Fergus told him, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the cop’s, now wide and round with fear.
The cop handed it to him and Fergus tore out the page on which he’d been writing while the cop looked on, frozen in place. The fear began to subside as his mind started to rewind. In a matter of moments, he wouldn’t remember how he got here or why he came, much less anything that happened after he arrived.
“All right. Thank you for coming out to check on us, officer. Have a good day,” Fergus said as the officer’s face became more confused, looking around as if he was completely lost, which he likely was since his last memory was now from well before he arrived here.
“Right. You too!” he replied in a pleasant tone.
Fergus watched as he walked back to his car and climbed inside, turning it around and heading back the way he had come. In a few more minutes, he would lose even this memory and find himself driving down a street without knowing what had happened for the past few hours. Fergus hated to go that far back, but he had to make sure he took whatever memories the officer might have that had led him here. Hopefully, that would be enough.