“Two men of Hollaroy’s. We don’t know who she’s told, if anyone. No one mentioned it,” Holt said after meeting my eye. “Earlier, we put in for a search warrant for the trailer because we got the test results back from a burned-out cabin on their property. We weren’t able to get it by close of business.”
“I’m thinking I call it in and get the three of them arrested tonight before they kill anyone else,” I offered. While we were in West Springs, this was the DEA’s case, not Holt’s. “As soon as Holt and I get cleaned up and regain some strength, we can take charge of the prisoners.” I shifted in my chair to get comfortable. The pain was tolerable now, but I was filthy, tired, angry and… shot. The bullet had come to the surface and fallen to the ground outside the trailer. Once that had worked its way out, I started to heal much faster.
Holt’s eyes glowed amber with anger.
Gibson paced around the kitchen. “If she goes to jail, you two could die of fucking moon madness,” he said after a long stretch of tense silence. He was working through his own issues, completely different from the human laws that Holt and I worked to uphold.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “We considered calling it in but leaving out the attempted murder part, but needed to get to you first.”
Gibson nodded and handed me his phone. “Do it.”
I didn’t know the number for the Cheyenne office. It was in my fucking phone, which Ali had taken. I had to search online and work my way through from the main phone number. It took five minutes, but I gave the information to the on-call agent. Fortunately, I knew the guy, and he would get on it.
When I hung up, all eyes were on me. “Backup is in Cheyenne. They won’t be here before dawn.”
Gibson nodded, then glanced at the clock on his kitchen stove. “You can’t go arresting anyone now. You’re too weak. You need to finish healing, and to rest.” He paused; stroked his beard.
“What are you thinking, Gib?” I asked.
“You need to claim her.” It was Ben who answered, like it was the easiest puzzle to solve. “Before she goes to prison.”
Holt and I stared at him like he was covered in pig shit. “Did you miss the part about her killing us in cold blood?” Holt demanded.
Ben shrugged. “Takes more than a rifle to kill you. And there’s two of you. It’s not our way to claim a female by force, but considering what she did to you, I wouldn’t feel too bad about you doing what you need to do to survive fate’s shitty deal on this one.”
My stomach turned. Even after everything, even knowing it could save my life, I couldn’t imagine ever forcing Ali to do anything she didn’t want to do. Male wolves protected their females. They worked to make them happy.
Ali had intended to kill us. Point blank, and in cold blood. Officers of the law. Even a good defense attorney would know she was going to prison for life, without the concept of conjugal visits.
I looked to Shelby to see what a she-wolf’s take on this was. Her brows were down, and she tapped her lips with her index finger. “Ali knew you two were shifters?” she asked.
“I thought we established that,” I said, at the end of my patience.
Gibson growled at me for being less than polite with his mate, but she laid a hand softly on his bulging biceps, still looking at me. “I just mean, could she have known that you’d survive a gunshot wound?”
“No,” Holt said immediately, shaking his head, then wincing. “We never discussed that.”
We’d barely had time to discuss much of anything. We’d only shown her our wolves once, and while she’d been excited about it, it could have been fake, like everything else.
Except… something shifted inside me. A scrap of hope flickered and caught flame.
“Nash was shot in front of Rachel last year,” Holt said slowly. “I got called to clean up the goddamn mess. She saw it happen, and knows the extent of the injuries a shifter can survive. Is it… is it possible she said something to Ali?”
I eyed him warily. “Doubtful.”
“Let’s find out,” Shelby offered, picking up her phone from the counter. She dialed a number, then put the phone to her ear. “Hey, I’m so sorry to wake you up, but it’s an emergency,” she said in a soft voice, walking away from us. “Can I talk to Rachel? Thanks, Cord.” There was a pause, presumably her waiting for Rachel to take the phone. “Rach, hey, listen, this is a weird question but it’s important. Did you by chance tell Ali that shifters can heal from gunshot wounds?”
Shelby had walked into the living room by now, and even with shifter hearing, I couldn’t catch Rachel’s voice on the other end.