Missing Ch. 61-70

"I can't tell you, Bonnie. That's the part where you have to trust me."

I looked up at him, and we came together in a desperate kiss. I did trust him, now more than ever. He'd given up his job and his life for me. The least I could do was to be his partner in this. "I'll do my best."

"Remember, no traces. No credit cards, no phones, no contact with anyone! The Council will be pulling out all the stops to shut your search down. Good luck, Bonnie."

"I love you, Clyde. Hold this for me." I handed him my pistol and holster; he put them into the console between the seats. "You should join me in that hot tub on the deck sometime. It makes me so damn horny when those warm jets hit my clit." I turned to walk away, knowing full well what I'd done. He'd stay hard as steel until the Indiana border if he didn't stop to rub one out.

I didn't waste time getting out of there. I headed towards the river and followed the signs to the Ambassador Bridge over to Windsor, Ontario. I had no choice but to show my passport, but it would be the last time I'd show my identification. I wasn't going to leave a trace for the Council or any Pack to pick up on.

I had an advantage in knowing the locations of the Canadian Packs. I wanted to get past Montreal before anyone might expect me, so I took the direct route. I made it just across the provincial line into Quebec, stopping for gas and food at a station just off the exit in St-Zotique. I'd seen thick woods before I exited, and I wasn't going to risk a hotel. I turned onto a gravel road leading to a boat storage facility as it got dark. Parking the Harley out of sight, I laid my jacket and helmet over the seat. I walked into the woods until I found a good spot under a fallen tree, then stripped and shifted.

I was up at first light and back on the road.

In the morning, I began my search. I found a Tim Horton's and enjoyed a morning coffee and a muffin while looking at the data on my new laptop. None of the previously identified coyote dens in the area held my targets, though they did hold coyotes. Clyde's firing and the latest Alpha Orders proved that. I was going on the assumption that the Cook hadn't fled at all. Instead, they hunkered down for a few weeks in their den while assembling the chemicals and equipment needed to start again.

My search area centered on the place we found the last cook site outside of Chemin Saint-Arnaud. I drew a circle representing a 30-minute drive from the Saint Raymond Pack, assuming they would stay clear of Pack wolves. Figuring they wouldn't drive past the Pack to get to the cook site, that circle formed the eastern boundary of my search. I knew they were closer to Quebec City than Montreal, so I drew a western line at the bridge at Trois-Rivieres. The St. Lawrence River had limited crossings and thus formed the south boundary. The north? Thousands of square miles of harsh terrain and wilderness. It was perfect for a wilderness drug lab but was too far from civilization for a den.

I finished planning my search, jotting down the navigation waypoints to put into my Garmin later.

I drove to Trois-Rivieres, stopping at a sporting-goods store. As a tracker, I knew the importance of scents and how to mask them. Hunters did as well, and the products they used to hide human scents worked for wolves. I walked out with a pair of scent-blocker shirts and pants with an activated charcoal lining to absorb body odor. After changing into them, I put the rest of my clothes in big zip-lock bags to seal off their odors. I sprayed my motorcycle and saddlebags with a scent-killing spray. I also bought a small packet of disposable scent-killing wipes and scent-killing soap. With everything set up to minimize my trail, and turned inland along the western bank of the Saint Maurice River.

I kept my nose in the air as I searched for the scents burned into my brain at Saint Raymond.

Ch. 70

Clyde Lassiter's POV

Detroit, Michigan

Leaving Bonnie was hard. Almost as hard as my dick.

My male pride wanted to give that tease what she needed, and my wolf agreed. I drove my car away, narrowly avoiding throwing her in the back seat, then taking her in broad daylight on the street. We didn't have time for the kind of mating she deserved, nor was her oath fulfilled yet. We had a lot of work to do first.

I'd told Bonnie I was heading for Minnesota. I hadn't lied, but I didn't tell the whole truth. Heading north out of town on Interstate 94, I spotted rental storage area in the suburbs. I paid in cash for a month to get a storage garage for the trailer. After backing it in and disconnecting it from my Explorer, I put our weapons in the trailer and padlocked it closed. I did one final check, not wanting to lose something at Canadian Customs, then locked the storage garage and got back on the road.

It might be simpler to drive to Minnesota first, but I had no assurance Leo would accept us. Before I could arrive, the Council might already know that Bonnie crossed into Canada at Windsor. Leo knows we are mates, so asking to fly to Montreal shortly after arriving would raise too many questions. I didn't want Leo giving me an Alpha order to bring her back. It was better to stay out of touch and do it independently.

I made it through Customs about ninety minutes later at the town of Sarnia, on the southern tip of Lake Huron. I headed farther north, avoiding Bonnie's route to Montreal. My trip took me around the east side of the Great Lake, then east through Ottawa, and finally to Montreal. I arrived in the city at ten PM. I had time to eat before my midnight appointment.

I arrived on the gate leading to Jean-Girard Street in Ville-Marie at the specified time. There was no doubt of the address because the private road only held one home. I pressed the button for the video intercom, and the face of a security guard greeted me. "Clyde Lassiter, here to see Mr. Charles Ramesey," I announced.

"Please drive to the home, and a steward will meet you at the steps," the guard said. The iron gates slowly swung open, and I drove towards the Italianate-influenced home. The Internet had information on it, which I looked up after getting the contact information from Luna Adrienne. The mansion was built in 1805 and boasted four huge bedrooms, six bathrooms, two offices, a huge basement, and a six-car garage. I couldn't imagine how much it was worth now, but it cost $13 million in current-day money! The landscaping I could see in my headlights was immaculate, as was the home. Full-length terraces on each floor held a few party guests, and more wandered the gardens. I stopped by the front door, and a uniformed servant took my keys. He drove away to park my plain SUV out of sight.

"Welcome to Jean-Girard Mansion, Mr. Lassiter," a servant in a black tuxedo said as I reached the stairs. "Master Ramesey asked me to bring you to his office. He will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," I said as I walked inside. My wolf was screaming to me that I was in danger. He wanted to turn and run, and It took every ounce of self-control I had to keep walking. There was stupid, there was insanity, and then there was me walking into a Master Vampire's home alone. No one even knew I was here.

I followed the butler up the stairs, ignoring the party guests. The young and beautiful couples here may not have known they were in a vampire's lair, or maybe they did. From what I knew of vampires, even those they fed on would wake up in the morning with no knowledge that they were dinner. Vampires were immortal, highly sensual creatures with powers of mind control over humans. They preferred to drink from their victims at the height of sexual pleasure, the blood tasting its best when taken during orgasm. In that, our kinds were the same. I couldn't wait to bite into Bonnie's neck as my seed pulsed into her hot sex.

I had to wipe the thought from my head quickly. Vampires had far more sensitive noses than werewolves.

The butler left me in a grand office and offered me a choice of fine whiskeys from the bar inside. I accepted the Lock, Stock & Barrel 16-year Canadian rye and sipped it as I admired the artwork. It was only five minutes until the door opened and a man walked in.

Vampires didn't age after turning, so I wasn't surprised to see the Master Vampire looked to be in his mid-twenties. He wouldn't need to use compulsion to get human companionship. He was tall, broad of shoulders, with glossy white hair, a chiseled jaw, and perfect teeth. After all, vampire males were sexual omnivores, and they didn't limit themselves to human females. "Ah, Mr. Lassiter, welcome to my Coven," he said as he strode over to where I stood by the window. The butler excused himself, leaving us alone.

"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, Master Ramesy," I replied as I returned his handshake.

"Please, sit," he said as he moved behind the intricately carved French Renaissance desk. I had no doubt it was real and worth more than I made in a year. Immortality is good for business.

I sat in a comfortable padded chair on the other side. "I was intrigued by your request. It is rare for the Werewolf Council to contact me, but you aren't with the Council anymore."

"No. I'm sure you know I've been forcibly retired from my position as a Fixer for the Council. I am here on my own, and I've told no one I was coming. I have personal reasons to meet with you that have nothing to do with the Council or any Pack."

He leaned back, studying my face. His eyes were icy blue, cold, and remorseless. Thankfully, his mind control wouldn't work on another supernatural creature. "You'll forgive me if I ask for brevity. I have guests to attend to, and I can only spare a few minutes."

"I have a problem, and I need your help. Three were-coyotes are currently operating between here and Quebec City with Mexican Cartel backing. One of them is a talented chemist, while the other two killed two wolves in Maine last year. I need them dead."

"And you can't do it yourself?"

I shook my head. "The were-coyotes are threatening the Werewolf Council with exposure to the humans. They have the locations and near-complete rosters of every North American Pack. They used the threat to gain a peace treaty with the Council. The Council ordered everyone to leave the coyotes alone and avoid contact with them. We had the three coyotes in custody and had to let them go."

He nodded. "I recall reading about Cartel hitmen taking out another Cartel's wilderness lab. Two men died in the raid."

"Yes, we killed both of the Cartel people and captured the coyotes after a short chase."

"The Cartels are dangerous, as is threatening to expose the supernatural among us. The Vampire Council will need to know this."

I nodded. "Please keep my name out of it. I was in the room when the Were-Coyote representative struck a deal with the Werewolf Council."

"You are telling the truth, but not the whole truth, Mr. Lassiter. I know you led the search for these men, and you can't be happy to watch them go free. There is more to your story than you are letting on. Why is this so important to you? I imagine the penalties for unauthorized contact with a Vampire Coven are severe."

"My life tonight is in peril from more than you, sir." I took another sip, deciding to tell the truth to him. It was the only way to secure his assistance. "My mate is Bonnie Woods. They killed her mate in cold blood, but the Alpha Command keeps us from avenging him. She swore an oath to get his killers. I must help her fulfill it before we can complete the mating."

"I see," he replied. "And how can I help you?"

I pulled a small baggie out of my pocket and set it on the table. "These are pieces of clothing from the three were-coyotes I am after. My mate is driving around where we think they are hiding, hoping to catch their scent. I am asking for your Coven's help in finding and eliminating these people."

"Why me? Why not use your contacts in the Mafia or the criminal underworld?"

I had them; a lifetime spent in my line of work gained you many associates and contacts. "Quite simply, because the Coyotes would suspect I'd do just that. They won't expect I'd involve vampires."

"And why should I spend my time and resources on this?"

"There are two reasons. First of all, these three are a risk for all supernatural creatures, not just werewolves. If the coyotes get away with threatening us, they might threaten you next."

He nodded, thinking about the implications. "I'd say they are getting away with it. The second reason?"

"I have money; I wouldn't ask you to do this for nothing."

He waved his fingers in the air at that. "Money does not interest me, Fixer. I make more money on my investments during this meeting than you could offer for the job."

"You know what I am and what I've done, Master Ramesey. I have skills that may be useful to you in return," I asked. I knew it would come to this when I came in.

"You are not the only one with difficult problems, Mr. Lassiter. Solve one of my problems for me, and I will take care of your problem in return."

"Name your problem, and I will take care of it."

He did. I had to take another drink to get my wits back under control. What he asked of me was beyond risky. I'd face summary execution if caught. "You have a deal, Master Ramesey." We shook hands, and he excused himself to return to his party.

I'd made a deal with the devil, and somehow I'd have to live through it.