Alpha (28 page)

The doc said that if nothing went wrong in the night—a possibility which evidently included a stroke from a blood clot in my brain—I would be clear to start Shifting to heal in the morning. But for the moment, he insisted I take several Tylenol and go to sleep.

I tried. I really did. But I couldn't find a comfortable position on the couch—I still hurt all over and could hardly see out of my left eye—and I wasn't willing to oust my mother from the only bed. And every time I closed my eyes, Dean was waiting behind my eyelids to kick me in the head, or to cut me again, or to slice my clothes open. After about an hour, Jace curled up on the floor in front of the couch, and I let one hand trail over his fur. He purred, and that sound and his scent made me feel safe enough to fall asleep, in spite of myriad pains Tylenol couldn't touch, and I didn't wake up until the other toms returned with our supplies.

When my mother heard them unloading the cars, she came out of the bedroom to help and insisted I get in the bed. Jace tried to follow me, but Marc snarled, and as I took off my jeans and climbed beneath the covers, I heard his footsteps clomp down the hall after us. “
Hell,
no. This is still my house, and you're not going in my bedroom. Not with her. Not even in cat form.”

Jace growled, but Marc must have held his ground, because Dr. Carver stepped in then and said he'd watch me for a while. Which was good, because I honestly
didn't have the energy to break up another fight at the moment.

I fell asleep again and, that time, I didn't wake up for twelve straight hours.

W
hen I woke up, the room was bright with natural light, and Marc's alarm clock read 1:44. Thursday afternoon.
Shit.
I sat up too fast and gasped over the pain in my…everything, as the room seemed to swim around me.

“Whoa, slow down,” Marc said from the desk chair, and I jumped, then flinched at the second flare of pain. I hadn't smelled him because the entire room already smelled like him. The chair creaked as he stood, then the bed squealed as he sat next to me. “How do you feel?”

“Like I should have Shifted five hours ago. Why did you let me sleep so long? I need to call my uncle.” I threw back the covers and was surprised to discover that I was still wearing the shirt I'd fought in the day before, still stiff with my own dried blood. I stood—and almost screamed when my left foot hit the floor. My sore hip had stiffened while I slept, and a test movement from my left arm revealed that the same had happened with my shoulder.

“He already called. I told him you were still re
cuperating, and he's expecting a call from you this afternoon.”

“Marc, you have to tell me when one of our allies calls! We have a lot to do, and we need their help. I'm the Alpha now!”

“You're going to be a dead Alpha if you don't take time to rest and heal.”

“Consider me rested. And healing's on the agenda for today, too. But first I need to talk to Uncle Rick. Where's my phone?” When my heart stopped trying to pound its way out of my chest, I headed for my suitcase, in spite of the sharp pain in my side and my left hip.

“It's on the charger in the living room. What's the plan?”

“I'm going to talk to my uncle, then I'm going to Shift until I'm healed. Didn't I just say that?”

Marc huffed. “I was talking long-term. Yesterday you said you had an idea.”

“Oh.” I rummaged through the bag on Marc's dresser for a pair of exercise shorts and a T-shirt, since I wouldn't shower until after I'd Shifted enough to be presentable in human society. “Yeah. We're going to fight, and we're going to do it the right way. With the element of surprise on our side, and all our allies and men in place. Including the thunderbirds. Malone and his men can't defend against them any better than we could. The birds are going to be the determining factor in his war. We're gonna take back the ranch and the Pride. Permanently.”

“So…road trip?” Jace asked from the doorway, and I nodded.

“Yeah. Once I'm healed enough to be seen in public.” I started to pull my arms from the bloody turtleneck,
but stopped when the pain in my side shot through my entire torso.

“Here, let me.” Marc was at my side before I could answer, and I could hear Jace's teeth grind together from across the room as Marc ran his hands lightly up my sides beneath my shirt, holding it up so I could pull my arms free. He even stretched out the neck so it wouldn't brush my broken nose when he lifted it over my head. Jace stomped out of the room when Marc helped me into the shorts and clean T-shirt, still careful with my damaged face, but I hurt too badly to care whose feelings were bruised and who'd just used me to assert his dominance. Again.

Dressed, I limped into the front of the house for my phone.

The living room looked like a sleepaway camp. Someone had propped the air mattresses against one wall, but there wasn't enough furniture for everyone to have a seat, so most of the guys sat on the floor, playing cards in the middle of the living room. Manx was nursing Des on the couch, and Owen sat next to her, reassuring her softly that everything would be okay. They wouldn't be homeless for long. That I'd find a way to get us back home, or to start a new home. That she and the baby would be safe.

My mother was rattling around the kitchen, clanging pans, openly lamenting Marc's utter lack of a twenty-quart stockpot.

Kaci sat at the card table with Holly and Michael, playing the Shifters home version of Fact or Fiction. “So…what about allergies?” Holly asked, as I stepped around a pillow someone had left on the floor and nar
rowly missed an open suitcase. “Is anyone ever allergic to you guys? Because of cat dander?”

I rolled my eyes, glad she seemed to be adjusting, and Kaci laughed. Michael chuckled softly. “I think our dander is mostly human.”

“Hey, how do you feel?” my mother asked, as I pulled my phone free of its cord on the kitchen counter. “You don't look much better.”

“Thanks.” I forced a smile. She was right. The bruises around my eyes were darker than they'd been the day before, the side of my head was swollen and horrifically tender to the touch, and my rib felt like it was being recracked with every step I took. But my poor nose…The bridge was very puffy and discolored, and the only bright side I could find, after an extensive search, was that thanks to Dr. Carver, it wouldn't heal crooked. “I feel like I got trampled by a bruin stampede, but I'll be better after I've had a chance to Shift and shower.”

My mother opened her mouth, probably to tell me to be careful. But then she only closed her mouth and gave me a sad smile, and I could see in it everything she'd left unsaid—every consuming fear for me—and I loved her for both her concern and her restraint.

“I'll be careful,” I said, and her smile developed, like one of those old Polaroids, suddenly brighter, where it had been gray before.

I dialed on the way back to the bedroom, waving a silent greeting to Kaci. She called my name, but before I could answer, my uncle was speaking into my ear. “Faythe?” I gave Kaci a one-minute finger, then ducked into the bedroom and closed the door on Marc and Jace before I realized they'd followed me down the hall.

“Did you get some rest?” Uncle Rick asked, as I
sank gingerly into the desk chair and pressed the power button on Marc's computer.

“More than I wanted. But I'm up and running now. I'm leaving tomorrow to recruit the thunderbirds, and I was thinking we could hit Kenton and his little toy soldiers on Monday morning. Before dawn, when they're least expecting it. If you're still with me.”

“I'm in. And so are Bert Di Carlo and Aaron Taylor. They're standing by, waiting for word.”

“Awesome.”

“But, Faythe, Marc made it sound like you'd need a while to recuperate. Aren't you moving a little too fast?”

“We're running short on time and long on enemies, Uncle Rick,” I said, then glanced up when the bedroom door opened. “I'll be fine by Monday.” Marc stepped in with a steaming mug of coffee, flavoring the air with French vanilla creamer. Jace was right behind him, carrying several turkey sandwiches on a paper plate.

My uncle sighed into my ear. “Okay. But we need to know for sure that Malone and the bulk of his men are still on the ranch before we move in. Otherwise, even if we remove Kenton from the picture, what's to stop Malone from setting someone else up in his place?”

“I agree. Malone is the objective. We could send scouts in advance of—”

“Won't work,” Marc said, setting the full mug carefully on his desktop. “You think he'd go to all the trouble of kicking us out, then not patrol his new territory? If he's still there, one of his men will smell us the minute we set foot on the property.”

Damn
. Marc was right, of course. And there was no way we could disguise our scents well enough to fool
a fellow werecat, and no way we could avoid leaving them with every step we took.

But what if we didn't have to set
foot
on the property…?

“I have an idea.” Marc's brows rose in question, but I shook my head to say I'd tell him later. “It's not a sure thing, but it's worth a shot.”

“Okay, then, I'll leave that up to you unless I hear otherwise,” my uncle said. “Do we know yet how Malone found out about the early funeral?”

I bit back a groan and picked up the mug. “The leak was on my team, but it's been taken care of. But just in case, I think all the men need to know exactly how much is riding on this. We can't afford to tip Malone off again.”

“Agreed. I'm not planning to fill my men in until Sunday, and the penalty for discussing the maneuver to anyone outside the Pride—including family members—is expulsion.”

“Good. It'll be the same on my end.” I sipped from the mug, enjoying the warmth of it in my hand. “I'll call you after I speak to the Flight.”

“Be careful, Faythe.”

“You know I will.” When I'd hung up, I raised the mug toward Marc like I'd toast him. “Thanks. You didn't have to do that.” I was uncomfortable with the thought of either him or Jace waiting on me, but I wasn't going to turn down their help out of pride, especially when I was only twenty-four hours past the worst beating of my life.

Besides, how often had I taken coffee to my father?

But that thought didn't help. I wasn't my father. I wasn't even
like
my father. If I were, I wouldn't have
lost—spectacularly—to Colin Dean. We wouldn't be hiding in the free zone, abusing Marc's generosity and taking over his small house. I wouldn't be planning a covert trip to another werecat free zone to solicit help from another species, whose only previous contact with us could hardly be described as “friendly.” So I certainly didn't deserve to be treated like they'd treated my father. I had yet to earn that privilege.

“What's your idea about recon on the ranch?” Marc asked.

I set the mug down and jiggled his computer mouse, irritated by how long the computer was taking to boot up. “This is going to sound crazy, but thunderbirds can do much better reconnaissance than we can, from much farther away. From any decent distance, Malone and his men would have no idea they weren't regular birds, because there's nothing to judge scale against in the sky.”

“You want the birds to do recon for us?” Jace sat with his hip on the edge of the desk until Marc scowled at him. He stood, but didn't move away.

“Yeah. It'd be safer and faster.”

“And you think they're so bored they'll offer to spy on Malone for entertainment value?” Marc asked. “Because we can't afford to absolve their debt on anything less than full-scale combat.”

“I know.” I frowned. “Maybe I can present it as a package deal…”

Jace shrugged, drawing my attention. “You only need one bird for this job, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What about Kai?” The thunderbird Owen had captured during their raid on our property. “We spared his
life. According to their law, doesn't that mean he owes us?”

My smile developed slowly, and it was all for Jace. “That just might work. Thanks.”

“So, we're leaving tomorrow?” Jace set the plate on the desk in front of me, then leaned against the wall where he could see both me and Marc.

“Yeah. I'm trying to book the flights, but the site's taking forever to load….”

“Here, let me do it,” Marc said, already reaching for the mouse.

“Thanks.” I set my credit card on the desk, then carried my plate and mug slowly to the side of the bed, where I used his old nightstand as a table. But even sitting up hurt my ribs, and it took most of my concentration to ignore the pain. “We need three seats on the earliest flight to Roswell tomorrow morning.” Because Roswell was the nearest airport to the thunderbirds' nest. Seriously.

“So we're just gonna, what?” Jace frowned, as I bit into the first sandwich, wincing over the pain in my nose when I chewed. “Storm in on the ranch and start throwing punches? Don't you think they'll be expecting that?”

“Probably.” I shrugged, then swallowed. “But the classics never die. And hopefully they won't be expecting air support.” And I was just as bothered as the next guy by the fact that we needed help from another species to even our own odds. “We go in when they're not expecting us and we target Malone and Dean. And we fight anyone who stands between us and them.”

“We might have to kill Kent,” Marc said, as his com
puter hummed and beeped, the outdated dial-up modem protesting its involvement in the day's work.

“Kent's already made his choice, and he'll have to live with the consequences. Or not.” Jace frowned again, and I knew what he was thinking. I didn't want Parker to lose another brother, and I certainly didn't want to be the one who made that happen. Especially after Kent had offered me what he naively considered to be safe asylum in my own former home. But there were bigger issues at stake, and I'd do what I had to do to protect my men.

And to earn their trust back.

I'd just finished the third and final sandwich when Marc finally spun in his desk chair to face me. “Okay, we take off from Jackson at 9:38 in the morning. We need to be there an hour early, minimum, and it's a two-hour drive. So we'll have to leave here around 6:00 a.m.”

“Great. Thanks.” I finished my now-lukewarm coffee, then handed both dishes to Jace. “I'm going to Shift a couple of times, and hopefully start to put this head trauma behind me. Not to mention the broken nose. I can hardly stand to look in the mirror at the moment.” And the lower arc of my field of vision was a bluish-purple haze of bruises I could barely see.

“You'll have to eat again between Shifts,” Jace said, heading slowly, reluctantly, toward the hall. “I'll bring some more sandwiches in about half an hour. Do you need anything else?”

“A meat mallet and one more shot at Dean's head,” I said, carefully pulling the T-shirt over my head all on my own. If I couldn't take the pain of changing clothes, how the hell was I going to Shift?

Jace forced a grin, but beneath the effort, he looked tense. Disappointed. “Soon, hopefully. Yell if you need anything else.”

I tried on a smile, but it didn't work. “Thanks, but I just need to Shift.” And to heal. And to think. And to become a competent, respectable Alpha overnight. I met Marc's gaze. “Can you get the guys up to speed on the plan? And smell Parker's breath? He's officially cut off from the bar until further notice.”