80

Bonnie Woods' POV

Shawinigan, Quebec, Canada

Friday, June 19, 2020

I was slowly working my way down my search areas. Luna blessed me with good riding weather, with temperatures comfortably cool in the morning. The heat and humidity of summer hadn't hit yet, but my scent-blocking clothing ended up saturated by dinnertime.

I was working my way west on 155, but it bypassed north of the town of Shawinigan. The city of fifty thousand sprawled along the banks of the Saint-Maurice River. I needed to drive through a few times to have a thorough search, so I exited on 351 towards the Wal-Mart.

I was looking forward to a break and some lunch. I spotted the cartoon chicken on the sign for Restaurant St-Hubert, and my stomach growled at the smell. My mouth started watering as I entered and saw the rotisserie chickens turning. I got a Piri-Piri half-chicken, coleslaw, and a brownie meal. The best thing about Canadian places was that most served beer. I washed the chicken down with a Hoegaarden White Ale, a wheat beer that went down easy.

I used the restroom on the way out and returned to my bike. I was putting my helmet on when I picked up the scent drifting with the wind. I froze, my nose lifting to verify it.

Were-coyote. Not only that, it was the female shooter. Her distinctive scent echoed in my memory; the last time I smelled her was outside Pack prison at Saint Raymond. The scent itself was faint, and my eyes searched for the source.

I stood frozen, the sunglasses I wore hiding my eyes as they frantically searched for the source. I finally spotted the killer about two hundred yards away. She was loading a compact car with groceries from the nearby Wal-Mart Supercenter.

It was dangerous, but Luna's favor was upon me. The wind was from the south, and she hadn't picked me up. I fired up my Harley and moved past the grocery store parking lot, watching her from a safe distance. She started her car and drove out of the lot, turning south towards the residential portion of town.

I followed, not daring to get too close. The car drove south over the river on 157, parking in front of a fourplex apartment on 134

th

Street. I stopped a few blocks away before turning around. I didn't want my scent to head her way.

I'd done it. I'd found Sean's killers! Now I could get my REVENGE! My wolf was all for that, but the Alpha command was still in place. I stopped at a park near the river and took out my burner phone with trembling fingers. There was only one number stored. I'd sent texts to it, but now I called it for the first time. "Hey, baby," Clyde's voice answered.

"I found them. I finally FOUND THOSE FUCKERS!"

"That's great, honey. Let me write this down."

I waited until he was ready. "Shawinigan, Quebec, south of the river. Third apartment building east of 104

th

Avenue on the north side of 134

th

street. They have one of the east side apartments."

"That's damn specific. Did you follow them?"

"I stayed downwind and well back. She didn't notice me; I was careful."

"You did great. I need you to do what I tell you and trust me to take care of this."

I trusted him. "I do trust you."

"Head west but don't use the same route or border crossing. Once you are in the States, start another fight. After that, go to Leo."

I had an idea of the way I could go. I didn't mind a scenic ride, after all. "I can do that."

"No more communications after this. Smash the phone and throw it away. I'll meet you when I can. Be careful, my love."

"You be careful. I love you." I hung up, then smashed the phone under my boot. I threw the pieces into the garbage and fired up my Harley. It was time to go home.

I set my Garmin for my destination, Sault St-Marie. The fastest route led around Montreal and west to Ottawa before traveling through provincial parks to the destination. It would take twelve hours of hard riding to get to the border. I'd have to sleep in the woods along the way.

The ride was going well until I got to the backside of Montreal. I scented werewolves as I passed an exit. Not just normal werewolves, of course. COUNCIL ENFORCERS, four of them, including one Emily Jones.

I prayed that they hadn't noticed me, but no such luck. I could see two sedans accelerating fast after me as I headed west on the Trans-Canada Highway. Sure enough, it was them. Emily was in the passenger seat as her car pulled alongside me. "PULL OVER, BONNIE," she yelled.

Fuck that.

I dropped a gear, twisted the throttle, and unleashed the power of my Harley V-Rod. I shot ahead of them, gaining three car lengths before they could react. I heard the engines of their cars roar, but I was faster. It helped that we ran into traffic a quarter mile away. I split the lane doing a hundred miles an hour and kept accelerating. Glancing back, I could see Emily's car passing on the shoulder. The driver nearly spun out as the car swerved back onto the road. The other Enforcer car got stuck in traffic.

I had a chance to get away, and then Fate, that fickle bitch, intervened. A Provincial Police car had a car pulled over about a half-mile ahead. Blowing by it doing a hundred and thirty would get noticed, and not in a good way. I could outrun Enforcers, but not radios.

I slowed down, allowing the lead car to get close again. At the last moment, I braked hard and swerved to take the exit for Cote St-Charles. My pursuers couldn't stop in time and would have to back up on the freeway to make the turn. In the meantime, the second car was closing in.

I didn't slow much at the bottom of the hill, taking the left turn at speed and barely avoiding the crossing traffic. I turned back onto the Trans-Canada Highway, this time heading east. I took the next exit and disappeared into the side roads before my minders could catch up.

Crazy Bonnie, indeed. I made some course corrections, heading north towards the river before going east again. I caught a ferry across the river; once it was clear of the dock, I could finally relax. They'd never catch up to me now.

I plotted new waypoints for my trip home. I'd stick to the back roads, even if it took another day to arrive in Miesville.

Whatever the Council wanted of me, I sure as hell wasn't going to give them. I slept in the woods in wolf form, finally making it to Sault St. Marie late in the afternoon the next day. I hadn't seen the Enforcers again, and I'd carefully avoided Packs. I was nervous as hell crossing the bridge where Lake Superior flowed into Lake Huron. Recent rains left it wet, and motorcycles didn't like the metal grating in the best weather. I couldn't relax until I made it over and was in the lane for Customs.

Sneaking back into the United States wasn't happening. I didn't know how connected the Enforcers were, but I had to assume that my name would trigger a notification. Worst case, they had a wolf watching the border crossings.

I made it through and headed west, hugging the southern shore of Lake Superior. It was a great move, as the Lake Superior Circle Tour riders were all over. It was easy to fall in with a group as cover, and the scenery was unbelievable. Clyde and I were coming back here soon.

I left a large group of riders at Munising, heading south to Green Bay. I stopped at a gas station and asked where the best steaks in town were. The other bikers sent me to the Prime Quarter.

I loved the place as soon as I walked in. The centerpiece was a circular charcoal grill about twenty feet across. Ordering was simple; you picked your steak from the fridge, seasoned it the way you wanted, then drank beer while cooking it. Dinner came with an unlimited salad bar, baked potato, and Texas toast.

I was going to have to bring Sharkbait here sometime. She'd love it, and so would Leo.

I sat at the bar and ate, drinking a Spotted Cow with it. The farmhouse ale was slightly cloudy and went down easy. As I finished my evening with a slice of their Ultimate Chocolate Cake, I asked other riders about a good biker bar with pool tables. "Girl, they're ALL biker bars in the summer," one said.

"The Wisconsin four-way stop has three bars and a church on the corners," another laughed. "I'd go to Baba Louie's; it's not that far."

I did, and it had what I wanted. The Saturday night crowd was loud, and I had to wait for a pool table. In the meantime, I was drinking beer and enjoying the live music. I'd left my jacket with my bike, so I was wearing a Harley-Davidson t-shirt and jeans with my boots.

I felt a smack on my ass. "Hey, darlin," a drunk guy slurred. "You're pretty tall."

"Beat it," I replied.

"No need for that when you're around. Those legs would look great wrapped around me tonight." He started grabbing my ass. I tried to swat him away, but he went for a second hand.

"Leave me alone," I told him in a low voice.

"Buddy, the lady's not interested," the bartender said.

"Go jack off somewhere, asshole! This woman is MINE tonight." He grabbed my ass with his grubby hands and pulled me into his crotch. He started dry-humping me as I tried to hold him off.

He'd do.

We were about the same height, so when I slammed my forehead into his nose, it flattened in a spray of blood. Pain sobered him up, and he tried to hit me with a right cross. I stepped back and left, swinging my left arm up and around. I blocked his punch as I moved outside of his body. My right hand held my beer bottle, and another swing busted that across his temple. He was out, but a few of his buddies took offense.

They fucked with the wrong woman.

Three people needed ambulances when the fight ended. The drunk groper had a broken nose, concussion, and a fractured skull. Buddy #1 tried bringing a pool cue into the fracas. It didn't go well; he lost the stick and a half-dozen teeth. Buddy #2 was whining like a bitch after I broke his kneecap.

It would have been more if the bouncers hadn't moved in to grab me. I didn't fight them because they were doing their jobs, just like the cops who cuffed and stuffed me into a patrol car. I had a few bruises and a cut on my forehead.

Crazy Bonnie was back. Hopefully, I'd make bail on Monday.

Ch. 72

Werewolf Council Chairman Daniel Sander's POV

Council HQ- Pisquah Mountains, NH

Tuesday, June 16, 2020

My nine-AM staff meetings had run about twice as long as usual since the deal with the Coyotes. Today's meeting was already past that.

It was enough to give me a headache. The Alphas were worried about exposure and looked to me for a united strategy. What could I tell them? Harold was right; they were few and mobile, while we were numerous and bound to our Pack lands. It would take years of planning to make our population disappear, and it would require significant changes in how we live and operate.

In short, we were fucked if the Were-Coyotes exposed us.

We'd spent an hour around the conference table, tossing out ideas on what we could do in the short term. Some wanted to go to war and wipe out the coyotes, but how do you fight them when you don't know where they are? Others recommended going to the Government and introducing ourselves, presenting them with terms for a treaty that could protect us. I could see that conversation going south in a hurry. I didn't work my way to the top of the heap to become a lap dog for self-serving politicians or lab rats in a secure government facility.

The only thing we could do was ride it out. "Look, everyone, this isn't a big deal. The treaty isn't onerous; the coyotes leave wolves alone, and wolves leave the coyotes alone. The Alpha commands are out. We have to obey them."

"Sir, we have a potential problem along those lines," my new Chief Fixer said. Curtis Jackson was in his mid-forties, a former Navy SEAL who joined the Enforcer ranks after his military training. He was biracial, the son of a white Beta wolf who found her mate in a black soldier during the Vietnam War. Like most SEALs, Curtis moves like a panther. He exudes the casual confidence of those who know they can kill anyone in the room. "Bonnie Woods is out of jail in Detroit."

"I know. I spoke to Alpha McInnis late last night. Her lawyer will bail her out after the ten o'clock arraignment. Enforcers will return her to the Pack. She will be back in Baxter by tonight."

"My enforcers just called in, and Bonnie is in the wind. The prosecutor decided not to charge her, and she was released before the lawyer arrived."

It wasn't good news. Bonnie Woods was angry and unstable, like a jar of nitroglycerin. It doesn't look like much, but any shock or sudden movement can blow everything to hell. "Have her picked up."

"Sir, she's already been picked up, and her motorcycle is no longer parked where she left it. My people scented Clyde Lassiter there as well."

I snapped the pen I was holding in half in my anger. Randall Albertson handed me a handkerchief to clean the black ink off my knuckles. I took a moment to calm myself. "What the fuck is Clyde doing with Bonnie in Detroit?" I looked around the room. "Has anyone seen him since he packed up his trailer and left?"

Curtis looked at his phone and scowled. "Our contact at Customs and Border Protection just got an alert. Bonnie Woods crossed over into Canada at the Windsor border crossing twenty minutes ago."

"What about Clyde? Are they together now?"

More tapping on the phone. "No reported crossings by Clyde Lassiter."

"That means nothing," Counselor Albertson replied. "Clyde probably has a half-dozen fake passports, and decades of moving about undetected will make him impossible to find. Bonnie knows all the tricks for disappearing after a career chasing fugitives."

"He could be with her," Curtis replied. "All he has to do is shift into wolf form and put a collar on him. If she produces his rabies certificate, she'll get him through Customs. Our Enforcers do it all the time."

I nodded. "We have to assume the worst. Bonnie and Clyde present a danger to us all if they are going after the were-coyotes who killed her mate. We have to stop them."

Randall Albertson interrupted. "The Alpha command will keep them away from the coyotes, right?"

"I wouldn't count on it with Bonnie," Curtis said. "I've seen dozens of wolves break command, usually before they go feral."

"And Bonnie didn't get the latest Alpha command," I added. "Alpha Anthony confirmed it. She was unreachable when he gave it. Now that she's not coming back, he can't impose it until he finds her. At least Bonnie got the first Alpha command after the treaty began."

There was a pause before Randall spoke up. "Why is Clyde Lassiter teaming up with Bonnie Woods? What is his end?"

Shit. I slammed my fist on the table. "I just realized I never gave Clyde the Alpha Command after the treaty was signed, but he did get the second."

"What were your specific words to Lassiter," Randall queried.

"You will not attempt to locate, track, or contact any were-coyotes. If you scent one, you will turn around and leave."

Curtis rolled his eyes. "So Bonnie can search for them, tell Clyde where they are, and Clyde can kill them from a distance. Neither one would violate their Alpha commands."

Randall thought about it and nodded. "As long as Bonnie doesn't enter their homes or businesses, and Clyde doesn't get close enough to scent them, then yes."

"Clyde Lassiter isn't stupid. He knows the stakes here, so why would he start working with Bonnie against Council interests?"

"You did force him into retirement, Mr. Chairman," Curtis replied.

"He's smart and loyal. There has to be more," I replied. "Who knows Clyde best?"

"Emily Jones, his latest partner, and Bobby Shatford."

"Get them in here," I said. Both were at Headquarters, so it wasn't long before both sat at the table. "We have information that indicates Clyde Lassiter is now in Canada with Bonnie Woods. We believe that they will be searching for and killing the were-coyotes involved in the murder of Sean Woods. What I want to know is why. Why would Clyde throw everything away and run off with Bonnie?" Emily paled, her face easy to read. "Enforcer Jones?"

"I had a long talk with Clyde just before he was retired," she said softly. "Clyde hated his life; he sounded disappointed in how it ended up, and he didn't like the man he'd become. He wanted nothing more than to find his mate and make her happy."

Holy shit. Could it be that simple? I looked around the room. "What is the ONE thing that is more important to a werewolf than anything else? What would he risk his life for, even defy Alpha and Council if needed?"

"Your mate," a few said immediately.

"Is it possible that Bonnie and Clyde are second-chance mates?"

After a short discussion, we concluded it had to be the case. The Council Physician confirmed that second-chance mates didn't happen like first matings; sometimes, one party was ready for it while the other wasn't. Leo and Adrienne Volkov were examples of that. "It is possible that Clyde recognizes Bonnie as his mate, even if her wolf isn't ready for him yet."

"Knowing who his mate is and Bonnie wouldn't move on until she had revenge on the killers? That would explain a lot about what I saw of him towards the end," Emily added.

"And how upset he got when I took him off the search," I concluded. "We have to assume they are working together on this. The question is what we do now."

"All hands on deck to stop them," Randall said. "If they succeed, the Were-Coyotes will break the treaty. We can't let that happen. Contact the Canadian Packs and send all our Enforcers north to where Clyde was looking for them. Capture them if you can and kill them if you must."

Most people at the table reluctantly agreed, but Curtis raised his hand to get attention. "Flooding the provinces with wolves won't help us. The coyotes may not mind smelling an occasional wolf passing by, but sending people out to criss-cross the land WILL get noticed. We've already been warned against that, Mr. Chairman."

"What do you suggest?"

He thought for a moment. "If they are searching, they'll have to pass through the big cities. Toronto, Montreal, Ottawa, Quebec City. Fly werewolves into the airports so we don't cross rural land. Have them rent cars and stay in hotels near the major roads in and out of the cities. We pair up Enforcers with all the Trackers we can get from the Packs and wait. Eventually, they'll pass by one of our people, and we'll capture them."

I thought about it. "Staying in the suburbs will keep the Vampires mollified, and we don't risk tipping off the coyotes. Any objections?" There were none. "I'll contact the Alphas and inform them of the threat. Curtis, you will assign Enforcers to lead the teams. As the Trackers arrive, get the teams deployed as quickly as possible. They could be in Nova Scotia by morning."

Everyone jumped up to get it done. I went to my office to make a very uncomfortable video conference call.

Ch. 73

Alpha Anthony McInnis' POV

Baxter Pack House

Tuesday, June 16, 2020

My phone dinged with the incoming text message alert while walking through the Pack garage, discussing plans to update the motor pool. "

Emergency conference at 1300 ET,"

read the message from CHQ, the Council Headquarters. I glanced at the time; it was 12:33. I told Beta Tiffany to summarize her proposal and walked off to get my computer ready. I sent Pamela a mental message, asking her to join me for the call.

I'd barely entered my office when my cellphone rang, the call from Chairman Sanders. Wonderful. "Alpha Anthony," I answered.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me that Bonnie Woods is the mate of Clyde Lassiter," he yelled.

"Wait. WHAT?"

"You heard me. Lassiter picked up Bonnie in Detroit and disappeared. Bonnie just entered Canada at Windsor."