Wolf's Fall (Alpha Pack #6)(50)

“We need to stop here and walk the rest of the way so we don’t alert Graham and whoever he’s meeting.”

The vampires had brought a camera and a recording device, which struck Nick as so practical he knew Micah had a point. Sometimes having special abilities couldn’t take care of everything.

They set out across the green terrain, picking their way around rocks and brush. The sky was a clear blue, a few clouds drifting past. A good day for surveillance, but also to be seen. They’d have to be careful.

A single voice reached them, and Tarron waved them to a halt. “Graham,” he whispered. The conversation was one-sided, and the guard sounded uneasy. Annoyed. “Sounds like he’s on the phone.”

As they approached, they took cover in the brush, in a spot that overlooked the relatively flat area where Graham had parked the borrowed SUV. He was alone, pacing, running a hand through his dark hair. The vampire was obviously nervous, and Nick thought he should be, getting into bed with the enemy. Though they still had to see for themselves. Innocent until proven guilty.

Ian snapped pictures and Tarron gave Micah the job of recording with the small handheld device he’d brought. The foursome watched and listened as Graham quietly unraveled while waiting for a meeting to take place. The poor bastard made a terrible villain, Nick thought. He was so outwardly nervous, he was going to get eaten alive.

Finally, a beat-up pickup truck rounded the bend, and three men hopped out. Two were wearing cammos and carrying their beloved assault rifles. The third was . . .

“Motherf*cking hell,” Nick hissed. “That’s Scott Morgan.”

“Who?” Tarron peered at the innocuous-looking man with a frown.

Nick took a fresh look at Scott, knew they saw a slight man of average height and a friendly face, with shaggy brown hair and dark eyes. “The Pack’s new mechanic,” he supplied, seething. “The little bastard is a plant, to spy on us, obviously.”

“But by whom?” Micah questioned. “Who has the power to replace Tom so suddenly?”

Only Grant should, but Nick refused to believe the general would betray them. “I don’t know.”

The unlikely trio approached Graham, but the two hardened hunters stayed a step or two behind, allowing Scott to take the lead. One even threw the “mechanic” a wary—no, fearful—glance and put even more space between them. What the f*ck?

Graham must’ve had the same thought. “Your tough leader sent a boy to do his job?” he sneered. “I thought he possessed an ounce of cunning.”

So Graham and Scott hadn’t met before today. Apparently, Scott had been recruited by either the hunters or the rogues for their vampire boss.

Scott’s face darkened and he held himself dangerously still. “Vampire, you’re the only boy present, and a stupid one at that. Never presume until you know exactly who you’re dealing with.”

The vampire’s confidence waned some and he shifted his stance. “Don’t suppose you’d care to clue me in, finally?”

Scott smiled, and right before their eyes began to transform. His incisors lengthened by inches, wicked sharp and deadly. His height grew to top seven feet, and his build went from slim and average to lean but muscular. Shaggy brown hair became wavy and dark, reaching his shoulders. The rest of the glamour lifted, and the stranger stood before them wearing leather pants and a sleeveless black shirt that showed off the dragon tattoos and other scrollwork adorning both arms.

Nick stared, pulse kicking as he recalled where he’d seen this man before.

“Haven’t seen you around,” a voice said idly.

Nick eyed the dark stranger standing in the shadows. Reaching out with his PreCog senses, he found the walls surrounding this man to be nearly impenetrable. That bothered him more than he cared to admit. “Can’t say I’ve seen you, either. You know Calla or her brother personally?”

“Not really. You could say I’m gate-crashing.” His smile was feral. “Friend of a friend. You know how it is.”

Something about the man put him on edge. “I’m Nick Westfall, com—”

“Commander of the Alpha Pack. Yeah, word gets around. Nice gig if you can get it.”

Rage fired Nick’s blood. He’d been played by this creature all along. They all had. The vile monster had been observing, feeding information to his master. And enjoying the game in the bargain. Toying with his prey.

Another snippet of their conversation replayed in his head.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Nick said.

“I didn’t say.” He polished off the cheese, eyeing Nick. “But it’s Jinn.”

“Jinn . . . ?” he prompted.

“Just Jinn. No last name.”

Inside him, Nick’s wolf shifted and rumbled in warning. Nick had recognized the name from his vision about Nix learning of Noah’s abduction. “And how is that?”

Moving closer, he got a whiff of Jinn’s scent and found he wasn’t a shifter, or a vampire. He wasn’t Fae, human, or anything from this world at all, it seemed.

The man—creature—laughed, showing off straight white teeth with very large incisors. “Did you know that in Arabian mythology, the Jinn are the third creation of God, after angels and humans? It’s said that we’re made of smoke and fire, can take human form, and travel between dimensions. And we can be either good or evil, as the mood strikes us.”