Savage Seduction: A Dire Wolves Mission (The Devil's Dires Book 3) (5 page)

“
T
hey’re not coming
.”

Mammon shot a glare at Phego. Why he’d chosen the Dire as his partner on that night’s stakeout, he was beginning to wonder. “You have a gift for the obvious.”

But still, his brother's words ate at Mammon. He wanted the O'Rourkes to come, needed to see his mate once more. He’d been jonesing for a glimpse of her for days, which was why he'd talked Phego into coming to the club with him to watch the criminal group. He hadn't mentioned mates, but he had a feeling Phego knew exactly why he'd wanted to sit in this dark, loud pit that night. It wasn't for justice or to keep an eye on the bad guys—no, it was for one shewolf who had Mammon's world flipped upside down. Charmeine…she who had somehow sunk her claws into his flesh and wouldn't release him even as she kicked him away. He wanted her, needed her like a junkie needed a fix. And he fucking hated that.

But obviously, he wasn’t going to get his hit of the sight of her that night. The entire O’Rourke pack was noticeably absent from their favorite scene. Something Mammon would have been thrilled for a month ago, but now…well, it sucked. And he fucking hated that even more.

Phego almost smiled, though, a true accomplishment for the taciturn shifter. “You planning on popping over to their house again?”

A low, and yet truthful, blow. Mammon growled, irritated by the sudden howling of his wolf as the idea of tracking his mate floated through his thoughts. Traitorous little shit.

“No. Not at all.”

“Then I’m out.” Phego stood, grabbing his phone from his pocket as he stepped around the table. “Tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Mammon said, peeling the label off his half-filled beer. “I’m just going to finish this and take a piss before I go.”

“You do you.” And with that, Mammon’s brother left him at the table. Alone. Staring at nothing.

“You are a sorry son of a bitch,” he murmured, but beer bottles didn’t make good listeners. Mammon dropped the bottle on the table and headed toward the back of the bar where the restrooms were. It was time to call tonight as a failure. He could regroup with Phego in the morning and figure out a better plan to…track the O'Rourkes. Not stalk his mate. His focus was on the O'Rourkes. And one Byrne.

Shit.

Three minutes of a stern talking-to in the men's room mirror and a set of washed hands later, Mammon walked outside into the crisp night air. He’d only had the one beer, and in fact hadn’t finished it, so he had no qualms about driving. At least not until he turned the corner.

A dark town car idled in front of his motorcycle. The same kind of car he’d seen Finn O’Rourke whisked away in a few days back. The night before Mammon chose to go to the guy’s house…the night before Charmeine.

Double shit.

Mammon knew what was coming, who would be waiting for him, before that back door even opened. Still, as Finn O’Rourke stepped out onto the concrete, his heart thumped a little faster and hope caused his mouth to go dry. He couldn’t help but attempt to look into the car, to see if someone else was with the wily fucker. A particular shewolf, for example. One he shouldn't crave as badly as he did. Fucking mating instincts.

“I think we should talk,” Finn said as the Dire approached. Mammon kept his face neutral, his glare hard. No sense giving this guy a single inch.

“And why’s that?”

The fucker had the nerve to smile. “Are we going to play coy here? I thought we could handle this as men.”

“Well now, that depends.”

“On what?”

Mammon went toe-to-toe with the man, looking down on him, pulling his wolf forward so his eyes would swirl silver as only the Dire Wolves could do. “Only if you’ve got big enough balls to deal with me directly.”

Finn didn’t flinch, didn’t lose his cool. He stared back into Dire eyes, into the face of a beast long thought to be extinct, and stayed his course. Something that secretly impressed Mammon. But the guy did open his mouth.

“You’re mated to my best friend.”

And just like that, all the bravado Mammon had fronted with faded away. He took a step back. Then another. Then he shook his head. “Not sure what that’s got to do with you.”

Finn’s smile turned to a scowl, the wolf side of the shifter making himself known in a rumbly growl. “She’s practically my sister, that’s what. She’s also hardheaded and stubborn, much like yourself, I’m guessing.”

Mammon nearly sighed in relief. If Charmeine was like a sister to the man, that meant they probably weren't in a physical relationship. Which was good. One issue he could stop obsessing over. Ninety-eight to go.

Not wanting to show his hand, Mammon chuckled and leaned against the side of the car. “Hardheaded and stubborn? You’ve got me there.”

“Then join me in my car so we can have a conversation. I’ll have my driver circle the area while we talk, and then bring you back to your bike.”

But even knowing they'd be talking about the woman he'd found himself mated to didn't wipe away his distrust of anything and anyone having to do with the name O'Rourke…especially the patriarch of the family. “And why the fuck should I believe you?”

“I'm a thief but not a liar.” Finn shrugged and held up his hand, two fingers raised and pressed together. “Scout’s honor.”

Mammon had to bite back a laugh. The shifter had moxie, that was for sure. “Pretty sure you were never a Boy Scout.”

“True, but I do have honor, and I would never do anything to upset those I care about. Losing her mate would upset Charmeine, so you have my word that I'll make sure you return to your bike in the same shape as you leave it.” His eyes were true, strong, showing his bravery in the face of a bigger wolf. Mammon respected that.

“Fine, but if you try to kill me, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Finn asked, practically smirking.

Mammon stole a move from the shifter and shrugged, letting his growl be heard, his eyes swirl with the power of his wolf. Letting his strength and intensity be a reminder to Finn. “Fuck if I know, but I’m sure you wouldn’t like it.”

Finn laughed as he climbed back into the fancy car, even turning his back on Mammon in what could only be seen as an act of trust. Again, the man impressed Mammon. Something he didn't like having to admit.

Mammon followed Finn inside, ducking low through the door. The bench seat spread before him, wide and leather, with more space between the front and back than in an off-the-lot town car. This was a custom ride for sure and way nicer than anything Mammon had imagined. But he was still in a backseat, so leg room was an issue. Typical problem when you stood well over six feet tall.

“Nice ride,” Mammon said once the driver closed the door behind him.

“It does the job.” Finn rested against the seatback, turned just enough to watch Mammon angle his long legs into the space. The Dire shifted and twisted, but eventually gave up, kicking back against the door and stretching his legs across the middle of the floorboard. Right into Finn's space. The smaller shifter raised an eyebrow, but Mammon just grinned. He wanted Mammon in his car, this was what he got.

“So…talk, O'Rourke.”

“So,” Finn said, a slight smile curling up the corner of his mouth as he exaggerated the word back at Mammon. “You’re mated to my best friend.”

The Dire ignored the pang in his gut those words caused. Again. “You said that already.”

“I did. I’m still surprised by it.”

“Apparently.”

Finn cocked his head, the first decidedly wolf move Mammon had ever seen the man make. “I never thought the fates would find a match for her.”

The Dire shrugged, fighting the curiosity that statement evoked. “Never thought the fates would match me to a greedy criminal. They do like to play games, don’t they?”

Finn growled low and deep, his eyes hard, his wolf making itself known for sure. “Charmeine Byrne is not a criminal.”

“But you are.”

That shut him up.

Finn turned toward the window. “I do what I must to keep my family and friends safe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mammon struggled to hold in a snarl as his wolf suddenly raged in his mind. Keep them safe. Which meant they were unsafe at times, a thought that had his wolf lunging to the forefront, begging to get out. To protect. No one would touch his fated mate, even if he didn’t want her by his side. Even if he walked away from her forever. No one would harm her. Ever.

Finn looked back at him, his eyes dark. Serious. “Have you ever heard of the Apex Hunters?”

Well now, that name was a blast from the past. “Sure. Mob types from Chicago. Grouped up in a bastardization of a pack and started killing shifters left and right to claim more territory and wipe out lines they felt were a threat to their reign. The NALB broke them apart almost a hundred years ago.”

“Tried to.” Finn sighed when Mammon didn’t respond. “The NALB
tried
to break them apart. The plan didn’t succeed.”

That piqued more than just his interest in his mate and her safety. “Are you saying there’s still a pack of Hunters out there?”

Finn huffed a laugh. “Pack? Not really, but there’s a group of about ten, we think. Still out there, and still slaughtering entire bloodlines of shifters on some plan to rid the world of something only they know. Including the O’Rourkes.” He stopped, staring at Mammon in a way that spoke volumes before quietly stating, “Including the last surviving member of the Byrne clan.”

Byrne. Charmeine Byrne. Mammon’s heart nearly stopped even as his wolf leaped to the front. He could practically feel his eyes swirl to the Dire Wolf silver, sense the way his ears would lift and prick as he took his animal form. But it wasn’t the time to go wolf, not yet. There were things the man could do that the animal couldn’t. Like call for backup.

“What are you doing?” Finn asked as Mammon yanked his phone out of his pocket.

“Ordering a pizza. What do you think I’m doing?”

Finn sat back, shaking his head almost sadly. “You can’t tell anyone, Mammon. They’ll make you a target if they found out. You don’t understand their reach.”

“Understand this—I work for Blasius Zenne, President of the NALB. He needs to be made aware of this immediately.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Finn grabbed Mammon’s wrist, stopping him.

“Why the fuck not?”

Finn sighed, letting go of Mammon and sitting back against the seat once more. “You’ll bring a war on you and your kin that can’t be won.”

Oh hell, that almost sounded like a challenge. Mammon didn’t even attempt to hold back a smirk. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“Neither do you,” Finn said, stiff and angry once more. “These shifters will slaughter anyone they see as standing in their way. They won’t stop because some sanctions come down from a political figurehead.”

“Blasius Zenne is much more than just a figurehead, and you really have
no idea
who or what you’re dealing with here. But to err on the side of caution, I won’t tell Blaze. Yet.”

Keeping his eyes on Finn as much as he could, Mammon shot a quick text to Thaus. He could have chosen to notify Dante, Blasius’ mate, or Phego, any other Dire Wolf, even. But Thaus…well, he was a cut above the rest. More vicious, more violent when provoked. More set in a very black-and-white mentality of what was right and what was worthy of a death sentence. He was rage personified. If something wicked was coming for his mate, Thaus was exactly the man Mammon wanted fighting in his corner.

Once he hit send, Mammon leaned back against the seat once more. Eyeing Finn hard. Contemplating what he knew and what he
thought
he knew. “You do all this shit to protect your family?”

“If by shit you mean running a successful business by using the greed of the humans in the area against them, then yes. I do
this shit
to protect my family. And Charmeine.”

“What about the hookers? This to protect them, too?”

That got a reaction. Finn looked positively livid. “We don’t deal in sex, no matter what you think. Your mate would chop my balls off if I even brought that up as an option.”

“She sounds pleasant.” Mammon couldn’t control the sarcastic sneer in his voice.

Finn just grinned, though. “Charmeine Byrne is amazing and strong, an Omega who truly lives up to the legend. She pulls people in, cares for them even to her own detriment. She loves the shifters we protect with her entire soul. Pleasant isn’t a necessity in her world.”

Mammon’s jaw almost dropped. Charmeine was an Omega…he should have put that together. Until Bez had found Sariel, no Dire Wolf had been mated by the fates in hundreds upon hundreds of years. So color them all surprised when, a year later, Levi found his Amy. Both fated matches, both women Omega shewolves—ones surrounded by myths and legends of powers to hold packs together. Ones supposedly descended from the Dire Wolves that had brought him and his pack brothers into the world. She was part of his pack, even if she never accepted his claim on her as her mate.

Finn watched Mammon quietly, giving him a chance to collect his thoughts, he guessed. Not too much time, though.

“She’s torn about you,” Finn said finally, cocking his head when Mammon jerked back in surprise. “She’s not heartless, and the mating pull affects her just as much as it does you. This situation is very confusing.”

“I can understand that feeling.”

“Yes, I bet you can.” Finn tapped on the window separating the back from the front. “We’ll head back to the parking lot now. Come by for dinner tomorrow.”

The abruptness caused Mammon to blurt out a confused, “What?”

Finn raised a single eyebrow. “Dinner. It’s a meal usually served in the evenings, sometimes called supper. As in to sup or to break bread. Let’s say seven, does that work for you?”

“What? Why?”

“All these questions.” Finn rolled his eyes. “The answer to what is a meal. The answer to why is to get to know Charmeine better and give her a chance to know you.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Finn laughed. Guffawed, really. “Not at all. I have a feeling one of us will be crawling out of the dining room cupping our nuts before the meal is over. I’m sort of hoping it’s you, to be honest.”