“Not sure, but I hope so. I don’t need to go wolf as often as others.” She also wanted to get back to work in their biotech lab, but escaping Slade’s needy alpha presence took precedence.
“Makes sense. Team Greywolf just returned from combing the woods and town where the other two weres disappeared.”
She wrinkled her nose. “How many more loners are out there?”
“Only nine, but they’ve all been accounted for and ordered to the nearest pack until the king and LIA determines it’s safe.”
Cricket continued the interview. “So the last time you met with Randi, what was his state of mind?”
“Happy. He loved life outside his pack. Though he travelled to Santa Cruz, he lived in the La Honda woods. Not as private as the other lone wolves, but isolated enough to go wolf without notice.”
“Did he have a girlfriend?” Betas weren’t allowed to date human females, so she assumed if he did that would be enough reason for him to disappear from the warden’s radar.
“No. He was in a serious relationship with Brenda, a beta from the Oregon pack. She just didn’t want to live outside her pack, and he didn’t want to join another. Brenda is brokenhearted and admitted she might have left her pack for him.”
“Was he despondent that she wanted to stay with her pack?”
“Not at all. He was confidant she’d eventually move in with him. He even remodeled his kitchen.”
“Yet, he disappeared from the face of the earth.” No doubt murdered. “What about Allen and Erik?”
“Allen, a part-time ski instructor, mostly stayed in his cabin with his two Siberian huskies. You know from the reports, both dogs were shot about ten miles from his cabin.”
“He might have gone wolf after his pets’ killer.” The more she learned, the more she suspected they were murdered. But why? They kept to themselves and harmed no one. Unless, werewolf hunters rose again. The cowards went after the lone wolves first.
Cody shrugged. “Possibly.”
Cricket furrowed her brows. “Although, his last scent was from a local cafe.”
“Erik too, apparently went missing after buying groceries. All three werewolves were last seen near humans.”
Cricket listened for another hour about the warden’s last visit to his charges. All three werewolves were, for the most part, doing well and had no reason to escape lycan radar. All in their prime. She turned off her recorder. “Thank you.”
“So what’s next?”
“I’m in charge of analyzing the DNA samples. Then I might visit their last hangouts and mingle with any witnesses.”
“Not alone.”
“It depends if Rylee wants me to go undercover, but no worries, I always have back up.”
Slade finished his special ops training and returned to headquarters. Sweat trickled down his back. He stopped and wiped his face and neck. The commander insisted they remain human during the six-hour training session.
Slade stunk like a fucking human. He sloughed off his wet t-shirt. The tight fatigues and black boots cramped his agility. His pack guard uniform had been baggier and comfortable. Team Greywolf acted as though they were Navy Seals rather than warrior werewolves. Unlike Slade’s original duty with the Yukon Guard, for most of Greywolf missions the team remained in human form. Only going wolf when there were no humans around to witness their shift. Any human witnessing them turn werewolf had to be executed on the spot. Humans were left alone unless they threatened their kind. Avoiding them was always best.
Maybe Team Greywolf wasn't a good fit for him. Before their massacre, the Yukon pack had the least interaction with humans. They preferred their wolf over human form. Even their pre-change wolves had remained wolves a year longer than other packs. Though he had travelled more than his pack and enjoyed exploring the world, he only hung out with other lycans. He’d never even slept with a human woman, a privilege given only to alpha werewolves. When drinking, he'd hinted he had sex with human women. Every red-blooded alpha boasted of tasting the soft curves of forbidden fruit. He'd lied. He never desired them. Too physically fragile. Yet, had he missed an erotic experience? Was that why he desired Cricket? A runt was the nearest thing to being human.
The whop, whop, whop of distant helicopter rotor blades approaching from the direction of the king’s territory caught his attention. He drank from his water bottle and looked up. Speak of the she-devil. Cricket better be on board.
He watched the helicopter descend, its blades whipping up the wind like a dust devil. Despite the distance and elevation, he caught a whiff of her honeyed scent. Cricket. Finally. Instead of arriving as scheduled yesterday. Why the delay? Why had it taken so long to talk to the warden? Or had she stayed longer to avoid him? Shit. Should he go shower or greet her like this, unshaved and sweaty? He shook his head. What the fuck do I care what she thinks? Anyway, she’d probably report straight to Rylee.
Rylee had briefed him about the missing werewolves and the packs’ current state of high alert. Raulf, the missing alpha from Germany, suffering from morphopsychosis, might have committed suicide. Yet, who killed his shrink? He'd read the report, seen the photos, and come to the same conclusions. The doctor was murdered in the same manner as the old world werewolf hunters. Was Raulf’s case even related to the missing American lycans?
The helicopter landed. He wiped his brow. Perhaps a swim in the cold alpine lake would relieve his need to run toward the helicopter, his tail wagging. It should be her running toward him. Greeting him with sweet tongue licks to his chin, begging for his.
Rylee met Cricket at the helipad.
Before he could save his pride and leave unobserved, Rylee called, “Slade, join us in my office.”