How to Howl at the Moon (26 page)

“You’d better not! Because if you get hurt or shot or, god forbid, killed, I will be seriously pissed off.” Tim barely refrained from stamping his foot. He knew he was being childish, but he didn’t care.

Lance rubbed Tim’s shoulder with a sad smile. “It’s my job. You’ll have to get used to being attached to an officer of the law.”

Tim was still not happy, but his sense of humor sparked at the word. “Attached? Is that like there’s an invisible thread going from here.” Tim put his hand on his heart. “To here,” he touched Lance’s breastbone, his eyes wide and purposefully dewy. “And if we got too far apart it would snap and I would commence to bleed inwardly?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “God help me. Now it’s Jane Eyre.”

“Aha! How do you know it’s Jane Eyre?”

Lance’s face went a little pink. “Lily has watched every movie version of Jane Eyre ever created. Repeatedly.”

“And she
forced
you to watch with her. I see.”

Lance stiffened his back, his chin raising a little. “It couldn’t be avoided. I have excellent hearing.”

God, Lance was so adorable when he had that guilty-defensive thing going on. And suddenly, thinking about the fact that Lance was walking into danger tonight, made Tim crave him desperately. His body went from amusement to
touch me
from one heartbeat to the next.

“How much time do you have before you have to leave?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

Lance perked up. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. There was a low whine in his throat, and he pulled Tim in by his hips and pressed against him. “Long enough.”

*                          *                         *

“Sheriff, Mr. Charsguard, you two stay put. Once we have the suspects in custody, we’ll ask for your help identifying them. Clear?”

The DEA special agent in charge, Harrison, was an older man with cropped gray hair, but he radiated authority. Lance was more than happy to give him the lead.

“Clear,” Lance answered.

“Yes, sir,” Roman said after a moment’s hesitation, as if unsure if he should speak or not.

“Good.” Harrison nodded and moved away, his eyes and his mind on the SWAT team that was arrayed in the darkness around the house in the woods. They’d been quiet getting into place, but Lance had a feeling the men inside the house knew something was up. The lights
in the front room
had gone out a minute ago. The
suspects
were either going to try to escape—though they had to know the back of the house was covered—or they were behind those dark windows with guns, ready to fight.
Lance
hoped they weren’t stupid enough to fight. Surely they knew they couldn’t win?

He and Roman stood behind the SWAT team near an armored van. Beside him, Roman was stiff and tense. Lance understood. The dog inside Lance was hyped up and anxious, metaphorically pacing back and forth. It had to be far worse for Roman, whose human instincts were so nascent.

Lance put a hand on his arm in silent command.
Hold
.

Two dark figures in SWAT uniforms detached themselves from the shadows and ran in a crouch for the front door. Three things happened almost simultaneously. One of the men’s faces was illuminated in the moonlight as he turned his head to his partner—under his helmet he was young, square-jawed, and stubbled. Gunfire erupted from the front windows of the house, shattering the glass. And Roman Charsguard pulled away from Lance’s hand and ran straight into enemy fire.

Lance froze. The immediate imperative was strong.
Pack. Aid. Protect.
Roman was Lance’s responsibility. He couldn’t let a member of his pack drown alone.

But the human side of him spoke up:
Tim
. He’d promised Tim he wouldn’t do anything rash, that he’d stay out of it tonight. And he wanted to fulfill his promises to Tim—including the ones he hadn’t yet made, the ones that were stored in his bones.
He wanted t
o give Tim a good life, to keep him safe, to be there to ensure he was well and happy. Lance wanted that with everything he was.

This was why he’d decided not to mate, wasn’t it? Because he’d believed there was no way to divide his loyalty, to be true to both his pack and his mate and children. If Lance was lucky, he’d be like his own father, dying relatively young from a heart attack, having worked himself to death. And if he was not lucky, he’d die like this. He should never have started things with Tim. It wasn’t fair.

And then, in a moment of clarity, he saw that it wasn’t either/or. Tim loved Lance for who he was, and that included the way he protected his pack. Having Tim as a mate didn’t mean he couldn’t do his job. It just meant he had to be smart as hell about it, and do whatever he could to not leave Tim a widower. But if that happened…. Well. At least they would have had every second possible together. It was worth it.

With
new resolve, Lance assessed the situation, his eyes darting round the scene. The two SWAT men that had been going for the front door were down on the ground on their bellies, getting as flat as possible, too far from cover to move. Harrison was yelling orders and the SWAT team opened fire on the house, trying to give their men cover. And Roman—he was crouched so impossibly low to the ground he almost looked like a spider as he crawled forward fast. He hadn’t shifted, but Lance could see the German shepherd in every line of his body. It was beautiful and brave and so incredibly dangerous.

Lance darted forward, crouching down, though not able to get nearly as low as Roman. The SWAT team was still firing so heavily that it didn’t seem like anything was coming from the house. But there were bullets in the air, and the chances of being hit by friendly fire was enormous.

He dimly heard Harrison screaming at
him
to get back.
T
hen he reached Roman. Who was about to get his head blown off.

Roman and the young officer he’d gone after were on the ground. The SWAT guy had rolled onto his side. Roman, had his hands on the man’s upper arms and the SWAT guy had his gun in his hand, pointed right at Roman’s face. They stared at one another.

Jesus fucking Christ.

The policeman was young, but he didn’t look scared. He did, thankfully, hesitate in pulling the trigger. Perhaps it was the look on Roman’s face. Lance knew immediately what the young
SWAT officer must think. Roman wasn’t in a uniform, he was in camouflage pants and a brown canvas jacket. He was big and threatening, dark-haired and intense. But on his face was a look that was… fuck. It was disappointment. Resignation. Grief.

Roman
wanted the man to pull the trigger
, Lance realized with a sense of horror
.

“Stand down!”
He
shouted over the gunfire. “He’s with us! Stand down!”

The young SWAT officer darted his eyes at Lance, taking in his sheriff’s uniform. He didn’t lower the gun, but he did look less ready to pull the trigger.

“He’s a civilian, a witness. He’s unarmed. Stand down!”

The SWAT officer swallowed, visibly, and lowered the gun. Roman’s face went blank.

“Roman, draw back!” Lance ordered.

The gunfire stopped abruptly. In the background, Harrison was
bark
ing orders. Lance knew the SWAT fire had stopped because of them, because they were in the way, but that meant the men in the house would be returning fire
any second now
.

He grabbed Roman’s arm, but Roman pulled away. That’s when Lance saw the blood. The young SWAT officer’s left arm trembled, bloodied, on the ground. He’d been shot.

“Get you safe,” Roman muttered to the man. Ignoring the fact that there was still a gun in the man’s right hand, Roman moved around him, put his hands under the officer’s shoulders, and began dragging him toward the SWAT line. The man didn’t fight him but went limp, probably weak from loss of blood.

It was the longest damn five seconds of Lance’s life. He drew his gun and covered Roman and the injured officer as Roman dragged the dead weight through the browned grass. Lance stood between them and the house, facing those shot out windows, gun raised, stepped backward as quickly as Roman was moving. The house was like a waiting bomb. Lance had no cover, and at any moment, a bullet could shatter his brain or his heart.

Tim. I love you. Tim.

They reached cover, SWAT men closing a line in front of them, and Lance went weak with relief. It was not his day to die then. Not today. There was gunfire from the back of the house and Harrison waved the team forward while simultaneously speaking into a walkie-talkie.

“In the rear! They’re headed for the woods. Go!”

Lance and Roman stood near the ambulance. Lance’s heart rate had finally returned somewhat to normal, though part of him was itching to go where the action was. The men who’d been in the house, about a dozen of them, had attempted to make a run for it during the distraction provided by Roman and Lance. The SWAT team was hunting them down now. Lance could hear them off in the distance. But, itch aside, he was content to stay with the ambulance and vans.

Roman was staring at the ambulance. The doors were open, and they were trying to stabilize the young officer who’d been shot.

“I thought… I thought I saw James. But it wasn’t him,” Roman said at last.

Oh. Lance didn’t know what to say. There was so much dull heartbreak in those words, and somehow lurking beneath Roman’s stoic face, that Lance found it unbearable.

The human in him had no words, but his dog offered comfort in the only way it could. Lance pulled Roman into a hug and nuzzled at his short hair. He wanted to lick for comfort, but he was far enough away from his canine ancestors to refrain, even though he didn’t mean it sexually and Roman was dog enough not take it that way. Lance just rubbed his nose in Roman’s hair and stayed there, holding him tight.
Pack.

Roman was stiff and cold initially, but he gradually relaxed, going soft in Lance’s arms, his body heavy with grief.

“Why do we have to survive them?” It was a child’s question, or that of an angry man who thought life was crueler than he himself would ever be.

“I don’t know, Roman.”

“I was something with him. I had a purpose. I don’t know who I am like this.”

The words were simple, but they came from Roman’s heart. Lance could feel his stress and sadness. He could smell it.

Lance thought of Tim, and how everything had changed since Tim appeared. Strange. Even if you were sure you knew who you were—you could be completely wrong.

“You will. I promise you. It takes time. But you have a place with us. And work to do.”

Roman pulled back. “I endangered us both tonight,” he spat out. “You’d be right to want me as far from the sheriff’s department as possible.”

Lance knew this was a hard admission for him, a point of self-loathing from which he might never recover. Lance couldn’t let that happen. He grabbed Roman’s arms and yanked him back so Rom
an was meeting his eyes. Roman
lowered his at once, submissive but still angry.

“You probably saved that man’s life. And we wouldn’t have found this base if it weren’t for you.”

“But I
ran
into live fire. I disobeyed the team leader. I could have made it all worse! I could have gotten you killed.”

Roman was no dummy, and Lance couldn’t really argue with him. “Okay, that’s true. But what would James say about a soldier who makes a mistake? I bet he’d say the man learns his lesson and carries on, becomes wiser and stronger. Wouldn’t he? Are you a quitter, Roman?”

Roman’s jaw firmed up, and his spine straightened. “No, sir.”

“Good. Because I have the feeling this isn’t the end of this battle. I need you.”

Lance said it to encourage Roman, but even as he did, the words had a feeling of truth. Just because they’d taken down this one farm didn’t mean there weren’t others, or that this was over. And now the dealers knew about Mad Creek. It was a good place for secrets—remote, uncelebrated, off the beaten path. For the first time, his town’s very anonymity felt dangerous. His pack wasn’t the only one with secrets to hide.

“Hey!”

Lance let go of Roman, and they both turned. A medic was ready to close the ambulance door, but he waited as the officer who’d been shot struggled to raise himself on his good arm. With his helmet off, he looked even younger than before, his face pale with pain and grim.

“Thanks,” the man called gruffly. He was looking right at Roman. Roman stared back. He nodded once in acknowledgment.

The medic shut the door, and the ambulance pulled away.