Blood in the Ozarks

34. A Weapon and A Plan

"Werewolves?" I emphasized the plural. "Did you say werewolves? As in more than one?"

"I did. This one is actually a pure Welsh wolf," Cian said the word Welsh with a heavy lilt of disgust. "I don't know what the others are. Probably descendants of the same clan line. Count on a Welsh clan to be wolves for hire."

Shit. No. Oh no.

When Ortega told me he had a match for a werewolf in town, I never would have guessed there was more than one. And then on top of that news, linked them all to the Sheriff's Department. Everything had taken a sharp left turn since Dinah showed up at my hotel room door.

I turned on Dinah. "You hired werewolves to handle your problems with the fiends?"

"And they did a great job," Cian added with sarcasm.

"Things got a bit out of hand," Dinah admitted. "They were only supposed to attack a girl or two to scare the Pack into moving on. I didn't think a few wild animal attacks would bring out the Feds."

"You thought they would pick up and move everyone away from their home that easily?" I questioned.

"Wouldn't you? If your family felt unsafe somewhere, wouldn't you leave that place?"

I was stunned. "I wouldn't hire a predator to clear anyone out, that's for sure."

Dinah stared pointedly at Cian as she spoke. "Wouldn't you?"

Goddammit, how did everyone know about Cian except me. To be fair, one of Dinah's wolves for hire was likely responsible for her knowing.

"Can you even change with that injury?" Her chin lifted toward his right arm.

A snicker came from the deputy at the end of Cian's gun.

"Oh goody." Sheriff Dinah brightened and for a moment she almost resembled the sweet woman I'd met my first day in town. But there was something wrong with her cheery smile, her lips stretched wide to show both rows of white teeth. A twisted cynicism laid behind her eyes. And the combination scared the shit out of me.

She gave a side-eyed glance to the deputies alongside her. Then looking back at me with that deranged smile, she commanded, "Sick 'em."

The deputy being held by Cian snapped around to face him as the other goons started forward toward me.

I drew my gun and began backing toward the door. If they got to me before I could run, I was done. Hell, if they got me once I did break free, I was done. My best bet was a weapon and a plan, only half of which I had.

Regardless, I lunged from the room and sprinted out into the night.

And when I hit the gravel lot, I nearly ran straight into Ortega. He clutched the machete at his side and despite the dark, I spotted the sticky residue of blood on the blade.

But there was no time for questions since the deputies strode out the door I'd burst through only seconds ago.

They were confident in their easy walk out of the bar, sure they would be able to grab me and end things quickly. So I used their lack of judgment to my advantage. Because I'd be damned if I was going to make anything easy.

Ortega took his own approach. Which unsurprising was to charge forward. Switching the machete to his left hand with a swift toss, he drew a gun from his back holster with his right. I didn't stick around to see how the gun first attitude panned out for him.

My biggest advantage was to use my size against them. They were large and could only get larger. But that meant if I could wedge myself somewhere out of sight, I'd have time to think. So I ran further into the parking lot.