Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(69)

After the locations were found, then… A chill crept through her. Then it got scary.

Although Calum had been wonderful about letting his people search, she doubted he’d be willing to lose his people while rescuing shifters who weren’t his own. The Dogwood males would have to do the rescue of the females, and they needed to know that the females were dying. The risks had changed.

Somehow, she’d have to convince the Cosantir to let her be the one to sneak in and make contact with the shifter-soldiers. She rather doubted the males would believe a stranger.

But, even beyond that, sneaking into the forest camp would be…dangerous. Too dangerous to risk anyone but her. If the Scythe caught a Cold Creek shifter, they’d have a new hostage and—far worse—would know there were more shifters in the area.

However, if she made the contact and the Scythe caught her, they wouldn’t realize she’d had help.

If they caught her… Wrapping her arms around herself, she tried not to shiver. She’d not let them catch her alive.

To keep Cold Creek and the Daonain safe, this task was hers and hers alone.

*

Gawain scowled as he watched Darcy follow Calum out the diner’s back door. Since the Cosantir was returning to the tavern, he’d drop her and Vicki at the sheriff’s office to meet with Wells.

Gawain and Owen needed to go to the hardware store to order plumbing supplies for the master baths, but still…

“We could have driven Darcy to the lodge,” Owen growled, opening the diner’s front door.

“My thoughts exactly.” Gawain followed onto Main Street. “She’s pulling away from us.”

“Aye.”

Gawain fell into step as they strolled down the street. “Can’t blame her. She’s new to everything. And last night…” The intensity had left him stunned. Her sweetness and honesty had taken him by storm. It had felt as if everything they were had touched: body-to-body, mind-to-mind.

“Last night was”—Owen cleared his throat and studied the street as if it held the answers he needed—“different.”

“Brawd, I’ve never felt this way before. I know you avoid females, but she’s special. She’s…she’s got a grip on my soul.”

To his surprise, Owen nodded. “Mine, too. And…I don’t…mind.”

That was an admission Gawain had never expected. “What are you saying?”

Owen rubbed his neck in the self-grooming a cat did when uneasy. “Not sure, mage. I want her, aye, and I’d prefer to say the attraction is merely physical, but it isn’t. I enjoy being with her. Want to share her with you—for mating and for…more.”

As a cub, Gawain had learned to stay silent as a rock if he wanted Owen to talk.

“Females annoy…used to annoy me, but I’m learning they’re not all the same. I like some of them. She’s one. No, she’s more than that.” Owen scowled. “Pisses me off some.”

Aaand, there was his grouchy littermate. Gawain stifled a grin. “Time to go on the hunt, then. She doesn’t get to pull away—unless she really doesn’t want us.” They’d know from her scent if nothing else. “We’ll run the trail and see where it leads.”

“Yeah.” Owen shook his head. “Probably straight into an abyss.”

“There’s that optimistic spirit we all know and love.”

“Clay-brained cougar.” Owen shoved him off the sidewalk.

Stumbling, Gawain caught himself on a parked vehicle. “You puny, pox-ridden, pumpkin-headed panther.” As he shoved upright, he froze. Dark van. Tinted windows. Empty. It fit the description of the Scythe vehicles Owen had mentioned. Slowly, he backed away from the SUV.

Had Owen noticed?

No, Owen was already heading into the hardware store. An elderly woman stopped him in the doorway.

After brushing off his shirt, Gawain joined the two.

“Sounds good. I’ll bring it over,” Owen said to the woman. As she walked away, he grinned at Gawain. “She bought the carving of the stag.”

“Great.”

Owen’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Turn casually and check out the van behind you.”

Owen held open the hardware store door for Gawain and used the movement to glance at the van. “Good eye, brawd. Spitting image of the Scythe vans in Seattle. Got that same remote button on the visor.”

“I figured.” Gawain walked in. The store was empty except for young Warren behind the counter.

Already on his cell phone, Owen said, “Alec, we got a black van by the hardware store. No one’s in it, but I’d guess our tinker’s friends are visiting.”

After a murmur from the phone, Owen nodded. “Will do.” Pocketing his phone, he told Gawain, “Alec’ll warn Calum. We’re to visit BOOKS, give Joe Thorson an ears-up, and he’ll inform the rest of downtown.”

“Sounds good.” Thorson. Right. He’d been the tough old shifter who had helped fight the hellhound two weeks ago.

Lifting a hand to Warren, Owen headed out the door.

Across the street at the small bookstore, the bell over the door tinkled as they entered.

Owen walked to the counter. “Thorson.”

The owner looked up from his paperwork. “Aye?” The old shifter had a myriad of thin claw scars on his face, hands and arms—evidence of a lifetime of fighting.