Moore, Gigi - Desiree's Lone Wolves [The Double R, Book 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (26 page)

He smiled and paused several feet away from the men. He liked how they stood their ground in front of Desiree, ready to defend, perhaps even ready to die.

Remy crouched low to the ground, holding his ears forward, guard hairs raised in a plainly threatening manner.

Neither man took the bait, couldn’t afford to with Desiree there as a witness. What would she think, after all, if the two men she had just made passionate love with turned into wolves?

Remy knew they hadn’t told her about themselves yet and decided to use that against them.

He took another couple of steps, bringing him just a few steps away from the trio. He watched as Carson balled his hands at his sides, imagined the claws scratching at the younger man’s skin, just below the surface, ready to burst free as soon as they had the chance.

Carson bared his teeth now, matching Remy’s stance.

Hmm, that is interesting
.

Would he really try to fight Remy in his human form? He might have had a fighting chance against Remy in his wolf form,
might
have, but Remy didn’t give either brother good odds in human form—scrappy spirit or not.

“What do we do now?” Desiree asked, tone low, trying to hide her fear.

It didn’t work. Remy could hear the slight tremor in her voice, the underlying scent of alarm wafting off her skin beneath the vanilla musk.

“
We
don’t do anything, but
you’re
going to turn around and make it back to the house.”

“I’m not leaving you two here by yourselves.”

Ah, how sweet. Like she would help them fight him?

Was that bravery, love, or just foolhardiness talking? Nevertheless, Remy admired Desiree’s spirit, recognized the same spirit in his Helena.

He’d often imagined her out hunting prey by his side, fearless and wild. She’d be the same way in bed, too, he’d bet. He’d had a lot of time to imagine that, too, how they would mate, how he would sink his fangs into her shoulder, marking her and shaking her until she knew that she was his and no one else’s. He’d wipe away every memory of Ben she ever had.

He already knew how fearless and wild Desiree proved, had witnessed it just a short while ago and liked her natural sensuality as much as he remained sure that Carson and Sam did.

Carson took a moment to turn to her, rubbing her arm in a comforting motion. “We’ll be all right,
cher
. We know how to handle ourselves.”

“He’s not exactly a rabid raccoon, and you’re unarmed.”

True enough he wasn’t a raccoon, but the boys weren’t exactly unarmed, not if they decided to shift.

Remy still didn’t give them good odds against him, even two against one. He had, after all, years of experience of fighting and as alpha, and several years of pent-up anger and frustration fueling him, while the boys had that old-fashioned protective instinct going for them.

He could see the wheels turning in both young men’s heads, how they kicked themselves for bringing Desiree out here without a gun or other weapon to protect her. Alone, they didn’t worry about being attacked, knowing they could shift and fight to defend themselves against almost any threat—human or animal. Shifting, however, was not an option open to them, at least not until they got Desiree out of the vicinity.

Desiree wasn’t cooperating, though, and Carson gritted his teeth at her stubbornness.

Remy saw her wince when Carson evidently put enough pressure on her arm to cause a little pain before easing up when he must have realized he hurt her. Nevertheless, Carson firmly pushed her back and steered her in the direction of the ranch. “
Please,
Desi. Just listen to me and leave.”

She swallowed, and Remy heard her heart pounding in her chest, knew the adrenaline spiked through her veins signaling fight or flight. “Okay,” she rasped.

“Thank you,” Carson and Sam chorused as she slowly turned her back.

“I’ll be back with help.”

“Don’t worry about us. Just
go
,” Carson said.

She turned back to both men, tears welling in her eyes. “I love you both. Please don’t get killed before I get back.”

Remy sat back on his haunches as Desiree turned and ran through the woods, back toward The Double R, before either man could respond.

How very touching.

He sneered at her sentiment right before he shifted. He did it quickly, didn’t have time to waste.

In less than a minute of popping and realigning bones and muscles, Remy stood before the two young men as naked as they were. “I don’t know about you gentlemen, but I thought she’d never leave.”

* * * *

Carson didn’t even have time to properly digest Desiree’s declaration. He didn’t have time to analyze whether she’d sincerely meant it or had just said it out of desperation before running off.

Did she think she’d never see them again? Had she thought it was her last chance to tell them how she felt?

Why didn’t you tell her you loved her, too, while you had the chance?

None of his questions mattered now, because the man who killed his father and changed his family’s existence forever stood before him and Sam.

Remy looked unbreakable and strong, and Carson wanted to make the smug smile on his face disappear with a swipe of his claws. He wanted to leave a gaping hole where Remy Bastien’s face was now.

“You can either come back with me now or suffer the consequences.”

“If I go along peacefully, you’ll leave Mama and Sam out of our quarrel?”

“Carson, do—”

He shushed his brother, putting an arm across his chest to hold him back as Sam tried to step forward. This was his fight, always had been.

“You call what is between us a quarrel?” Remy spat on the ground at Carson’s feet. “You are in no position to bargain, Carson Guidry.”

“Why should I go peacefully? I’m going to suffer the consequences regardless.”

“True. But if you don’t give me any trouble, I might be persuaded to go a little easier on you. I say
might.
Of course, I make no promises. You did kill my son, after all.”

Carson grimaced, knowing that Duane Bastien’s death hadn’t touched Remy as much as he pretended it did. He had used his son’s death as the opportunity he had been waiting for to get Mama under his thumb. Carson, knight in shining armor, had walked right into the trap, handing his mother over on a silver platter…almost.

“Carson, Carson, Carson, my boy, you have no choice. Pack law. You killed one of your own kind.” Remy tsked and shook his head with false remorse, and Carson hated him more than he ever had in that moment. “And to do it over a full human, no less. The worst kind of treachery against pack.”

“Duane was no angel.”

“Are you saying my boy, my flesh and blood, heir to be alpha, didn’t deserve to live?”

An outsider might take Remy’s words and actions as legitimate grief and outrage, but Carson knew better, knew there had been no love lost between father and son. No one in the pack had resented Remy, or looked forward to his downfall, more than Duane.

Carson shook his head. “I would never say that. I’m saying your son was a psychopathic tyrant who needed to be put down before he hurt someone beyond repair.” He realized as he said the words that he may very well have been describing Remy.

“And who died and made you that girl’s savior?”

Who’d died, indeed?
“Why don’t you just do what you will, right here and now.” Carson raised his head, jutting his chin out defiantly, tired of Remy’s games.

“
Carson.
”

He listened to the urgent plea in Sam’s voice and wanted to reassure his brother, sorry that Sam had to be here to witness whatever was going to transpire, but there was no help for it. This moment remained inevitable, always had.

Remy, however, wasn’t playing by Carson’s rules, either.

“Hmm, I could kill you both here and now, but I don’t think Helena would take too kindly to seeing her
bebes’
blood spilled all over the forest floor.”

“I won’t go peacefully without guarantees.”

Remy raised a hand, making it obvious he had bared his claws as he examined them beneath the moonlight, showing off his superior control to shift minute portions of his body at will rather than completely shifting. “As I said, I make no promises.”

“Then I won’t go. You’re going to kill us all anyway.”

“You are challenging me?”

“I have that right.”

“You forfeited all pack rights the minute you killed Duane, regardless of the reason.”

He wasted time trying to negotiate with Remy, and he knew it. Even now he could hear the sound of at least two off-road vehicles in the distance but quickly making their way through the forest and toward them.

True to her word, Desiree was coming back with help.

Maybe I’ll still get the chance to tell her I love her.

Remy proffered his hand as if for a shake. “Come along, boy. I might go easy on the torture before I imprison you.”

Carson stepped back. “No.” He wasn’t a coward. He just refused to make things easy for Remy. Not to mention he had something worth staying and fighting for. “Why should I trust anything you say? You killed my father.”

There. It was finally out in the open, and Carson felt a thousand times better for saying out loud what lived and breathed between them all.

Sam, on the other hand, had turned as white as a sheet of paper, and that was saying something for someone with as deep a natural tan as his brother.

Remy dropped his hand, the smirk on his face disappearing to be replaced with a scowl.

Carson couldn’t tell if it was because he’d had the nerve to voice his suspicions or because Remy was genuinely surprised that Carson knew what he had done. “If I have no rights, then neither do you.”

“
You
also have no proof of what you say. Several reliable people, on the other hand, witnessed you murder my son.”

“It wasn’t murder!” Sam blurted.

Carson put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed. He wouldn’t have worded what he had done so harshly, but neither could he deny the end results. The truth remained. Duane Bastien had died at his hands. Whether he’d killed Duane in defense of that girl or not didn’t matter. Hell, even if his actions had been self-defense he’d still have had to answer to the pack for killing someone outside of a sanctioned challenge fight.

However, he could make the argument that he was as reliable as those “witnesses” to whom Remy had referred.

He knew what he had seen the night of his father’s death—Remy lurking around his parents’ restaurant after closing hours, leaving the site right before the explosion and fire that killed his father.

Carson had been on his way to pick up Dad at Mama’s behest. She’d jokingly instructed him to “drag the workaholic home if need be.” At the end of the evening, there’d been no more room for jokes or laughing. Dad was dead. And pack powers that be deemed the explosion caused by a faulty gas connection.

Carson wouldn’t have put it past Remy to have paid off the authorities. He certainly had the resources and connections and couldn’t have planned things better.