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“Hello, Cassie.” Though they had never met, he knew her from the late-night chats he’d had with her mate during a mission in Romania several years ago.
“Lincoln! Please come in.” She stepped aside, welcoming him into her home.
Gratefully, he shook off the cold.
“Thank you for keeping Brice safe so he could come back to me,” she said, closing the door. “If you need anything, let me know. I’ll make sure you get it.”
“I appreciate your kindness.” But what he wanted she couldn’t give. Her husband, however, could be the Ace that Lincoln needed. After all, he had saved Brice’s life. “I was just doing my job.”
“You went beyond your job. You were a friend when Brice needed one the most.”
Uh-oh.
Reading her body language and seeing the intent on her face, Lincoln leaned down so that her arms reached his neck in the full-on hug rather than banding around his middle, which would’ve appeared quite odd and a bit too personal to her mate. Lincoln didn’t have a visual on Brice Walker yet, but his ears honed in on the slight thump of the man’s limping gait inside the house.
A tawny-headed wolfan, not quite midtwenties, stepped into the hallway. On his shoulders sat a toddler.
“Shane—” Cassie grinned at the young man “—this is Lincoln Adams, Brice’s friend from his time in Romania.”
Lincoln hid his smile. Humans often identified a personal connection when introducing people. Wolfans pointed out their rank or benefit to the pack.
“Lincoln, this is Shane MacQuarrie. He’s a close friend of ours.”
Neither he nor Shane made an effort to observe the human custom of shaking hands. Instead, they greeted each other with a curt nod.
“I hear we’re neighbors at the Chatuge View Apartments.” Shane’s wintry gaze didn’t warm. Close to the age Lincoln had been when recruited for the Dogman program, the young wolf reeked of confidence, piss and vinegar. Lincoln liked him immediately.
“Good to know.”
“And this is my daughter, Brenna,” Cassie said.
The little girl’s bright blue eyes targeted him with the same intensity Lincoln had seen in her father’s gaze years ago. And although her hair wasn’t red like her mother’s curls, the blond ringlets held a tinge of fire.
Cassie held up her hands and Brenna practically launched into her mother’s arms. “More monkey than wolf, I think.”
Although the little girl’s mother was human, her father was Wahya and wolfan genes were dominant. All Wahyan offspring were born with wolf-shifting abilities.
“Just brave and confident.” Lincoln extended his hand in a nonthreatening greeting. “Nice to meet you, Brenna.”
“Mmm...five!” Grinning, she smacked her palm against his open hand.
“That’s not how we greet guests.” Despite Cassie’s frown, no true reprimand sharpened her voice. She turned to Lincoln. “Come. The others are in the family room.”
Others?
Brice hadn’t mentioned others when he’d invited Lincoln to Sunday supper.
Shane took a step back, allowing Lincoln to follow Cassie, but remained close enough to respond to any threat, should Lincoln become one.
“Lincoln!” Brice stepped forward as they entered the family room. “Good to see you, man.”
Fairly equal in height, Lincoln didn’t need to crouch for Brice’s brotherly embrace and friendly pat on the back.
“Thanks for the invite.”
“My parents.” Brice waved his hand toward the more than middle-aged couple sitting in the love seat near the fireplace. “Gavin and Abby Walker.”
The Alpha and Alphena of Walker’s Run. Lincoln had expected to meet them eventually. Just not on his first venture out.
After a handshake from Gavin and a hug from Abby, Cassie hustled them into the dining room. Brenna insisted Lincoln sit next to her and he complied, despite Shane’s obvious annoyance.
Throughout the delicious meal, Lincoln politely answered questions and listened to their security concerns. Although what they’d experienced over the last few years alarmed the quiet Appalachian pack, it couldn’t compare to the violence Lincoln dealt with daily on deployment.
When finished with supper, everyone returned to the family room. Lincoln sat in an overstuffed rocking chair, leaving the couch and love seat to the mated pairs while Shane claimed the recliner. Conversation shifted to planning a spring gathering for the pack. For fifteen years, Lincoln had been isolated from first-world normalcy and he found the sudden reentrance jarring.
Brenna climbed into his lap with a book. Glad for the distraction, he read and reread the story until she fell asleep. Only then did he notice all the adults in the room silently watching him.
Thank you, Cassie mouthed, easing the child from his arms.
“I wouldn’t have expected a Dogman to know how to handle children.” In spite of Gavin’s stony expression, his sharp blue eyes twinkled.
“Wherever I’m deployed, I see children impacted by the conflict around them. I do what I can to help them retain their childhood, in spite of the circumstance.” The ache in Lincoln’s heart grew stronger. Dayax had no one but him, and Lincoln was thousands of miles away. Safe, warm and well-fed. The lost little wolfling likely was none of those things.
“Sounds like you will be a great father one day,” Abby said.
“Dogmen can’t take mates,” Lincoln replied gently. “We aren’t meant to be fathers.” Or mothers, or sons, daughters, brothers or sisters. The Program required absolute devotion. All ties with family and friends were severed upon joining.
“Aren’t you ready to retire?” Shane’s gaze dropped to Lincoln’s left leg.
“Not anytime soon.” Lincoln shifted his attention to Brice, who stood.
“I’ve got something to show you.” Brice motioned for Lincoln to follow.
After closing the French doors to the home office, Brice sat behind a messy wooden desk, pulled a photo from the drawer and handed it to Lincoln.
He fingered the snapshot of them sitting by a campfire, laughing.
“Remember that night?” With one blue eye and one green, Brice’s direct gaze could intimidate lesser men.
“Hard to forget.” Especially since Lincoln still bore the scar from the bullet he’d caught protecting Brice less than an hour after the picture had been taken.
“When I talked to you a couple of weeks ago, I thought you were on board with the medical retirement.”
“I only said that so the doctors would stop harping about adjustment issues. Yeah, I lost a leg, but I have more important things to worry about, which is why I need your help with something.”
“Name it.” Brice planted his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers.
“I want to go back to Somalia.”
To his credit, Brice didn’t balk, blink or bat an eyelash.
“I was looking for a wolfling in an abandoned building when an explosion blasted me out of a two-story window.” Lincoln fished out his wallet, removed a photo of him and Dayax and tossed it on the desk in front of Brice. “Insurgents took him. I want him back.”
“I’m not a soldier, Lincoln. How do you think I can help?”
“Ask your friends at the Woelfesenat to grant me clearance to go back in.” As the secretive international wolf council, the Woelfesenat not only had ruling authority over the packs but had executive power over the Dogman Program.
“I’m Dayax’s only hope, Brice. I have to find him or die trying.” Invisible fingers fisted around Lincoln’s heart. His mission to rescue Dayax would be over before it began if Brice declined to help.
Brice glanced at the framed picture of his daughter on his desk. “I’ll do what I can.”
Lincoln managed to breathe again. “Thank you.” Though grateful, he didn’t allow himself even the smallest celebration. More than two months had passed since Dayax’s disappearance. Finding him would take a miracle.
Chapter 4 (#u484207a4-2c17-5558-bff5-b92a662a77e9)
“Have you met him yet?” Madelyn O’Brien, sister-in-law number one, nudged Angeline.
“Who?” She shoveled another spoonful of creamed corn into her mouth. The once-a-month family supper at her father’s house provided Angeline with her only full-course home-cooked meal. Her brothers supplied the meat, their mates provided the sides, and Angeline always showed up with a healthy appetite and plastic containers to take home leftovers.
“The Dogman.” Isobel O’Brien, sister-in-law number two and affectionately known as Izzie, flashed a conspiratorial grin. “Haven’t you been listening?”
No. She’d tuned out at the first mention of “Dogman.” Her brain needed the break.
“He was supposed to arrive yesterday,” Garret, Angeline’s oldest brother, said. “Did he meet up with anyone for dinner and drinks at Taylor’s Roadhouse last night?”
“Nope,” Angeline answered between bites.
“I bet he’s handsome.” Izzie grinned. “But not as good-looking as you.” She kissed Connor—her mate and Angeline’s other brother—on the cheek and his soft, disgruntled growl ceased.
So cute. Mated thirteen years and the father of two kids, Connor still got a little jealous when Izzie mentioned other men. He had nothing to worry about. Izzie loved him to the moon and back. Stinky feet and all.
“Angeline, what have you heard about this Dogman?” Patrick O’Brien clasped his hands over the dinner plate. Angeline’s father might not like the idea of his daughter waiting tables for a living, but he certainly liked pumping her for the tidbits of gossip she frequently overheard.
“His name is Lincoln,” she said. “He got in late last night, he’s friends with Brice, and that’s all I know.” Not really, but it covered the basics.
“Have you actually met him?” Connor asked.
“He’s subletting Tristan’s apartment.” Angeline speared the green bean bundle wrapped in bacon on her plate and chomped down so she wouldn’t have to answer the barrage of her family’s questions.
“Dogmen don’t just come for a visit.” Patrick O’Brien’s statement quieted the table. “Why is he really here?”
All eyes turned on Angeline.
“How should I know?”
“You’re tight with Tristan,” Garret said.
“So?” She never disclosed the things Tristan revealed in confidence.
“Are you going to talk to him again?” Her father’s narrowed gaze forced Angeline to swallow the food she’d just stuck in her mouth.
“Tristan? I talk to him a couple of times a week.” Texts mostly, that way he could reply when he had the time.
“The Dogman,” her dad growled. “Why are you being so evasive? Do you know more than you’re telling us?”
“Actually, Dad, I don’t.” Angeline put down the food-laden fork in her hand. “Why is everyone so concerned about his business? He’s just a guy that traveled a long way to get here. He arrived exhausted and hungry. I gave him the food I’d brought home from the restaurant and the key to Tristan’s apartment, and then I sent him on his merry way.”
“Are you going to see him again?” Connor asked.
“He’s staying a few doors down from me. And I work at Taylor’s.” Most wolfans couldn’t resist her uncle’s fire-grilled steaks. “What do you think?”
Connor squinted, and she knew he wanted to stick his tongue out at her, like when they were kids, but they’d grown past that childish expression—in the presence of others.
“You only work part-time,” her father said, always ready to seize an opportunity to hassle Angeline about her employment choice. “When are you going to get a real job?”
“You may not like than I’m a server, but it is a real job. And in three nights, what I make in tips is more than some people earn in a week.”
“Your mother and I wanted you to be more than a waitress.”
“Mom would’ve wanted me to pursue music. But when she died, you sold the piano and wouldn’t allow me to bring any instruments home.”
Her father’s jaw tightened. “Someone had to teach you to be realistic about your future.”
“Shouldn’t my wants determine the reality of my future?” Angeline’s chest tightened and with every beat of her heart she felt a sharp pain stab her eye.
“Not if your head is in the clouds,” was what her father said. However, every time they had this argument, all Angeline heard was that her dad didn’t want her—he merely wanted a version of her that she could never be.
“Dad, let it go,” Garret said.
Angeline inhaled a few calming breaths, hoping to prevent a migraine.
Grumbling, their father stabbed his mashed potatoes and jabbed the fork into his mouth. Everyone else resumed eating in awkward silence, so everything had returned to normal.
After supper, Angeline collected the dishes and began loading the dishwasher.
Izzie leaned against the counter. “Your dad is worried about you.”
“Worried that I might have a stroke from the spike in my blood pressure? Because that’s what worries me.”
“He’s worried about what will happen to you—” Izzie lowered her voice “—after he’s gone. You don’t have a mate. Or a career. He thinks he failed you.”
“No, not failed me,” Angeline corrected. “Failed in raising me. I didn’t turn out to be the daughter he wanted.”
“Your dad loves you.” Madelyn quietly joined them.
“I know.” Angeline dropped the silverware into the utensils tray and closed the dishwasher. “But he doesn’t understand me. All he wants is for me to fall in line with what he wants.”
“Couldn’t you give in, just a little?” Madelyn gave her a little shrug. “Maybe put your business degree to good use and help out your dad on one of your days off.”
