Page 8 of Saving the Last Heir
Over three dozen people stood in the tiny yard, holding hands, heads bowed, while Marquel recited a blessing. When we broke and went to eat, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect evening.
3
JACKSON
“Christian, get your ass over here,” I hissed into the radio. “The wolves are circling the building. Now’s our chance.”
“On the way, my man,” my best friend’s voice crackled in the earpiece lodged in my right ear.
I peered around the corner. Three wolf shifters were walking in the opposite direction. Even at this distance, I spotted the bulge of pistols beneath their jackets. God only knew what kind of ammo they had in those damned things. Silver? Dragonsbane? The steadythrum-dum-thrum-dumof my heart ratcheted up a few notches. If this went wrong, we’d die, but what choice did I have?
The slithering sound of Christian approaching pulled my attention away from the wolves. Turning, I spotted his massive wyrm form moving along the ground toward me, gliding between a pair of chain-link fences. He was solid black but for the purple and fuchsia spines running along his back. His broad, snakelike head lifted, his bright eyes locking on mine andwinkingbefore he shifted to his human form and knelt beside me.
“Are we good?” he whispered.
Swallowing hard, I glanced down the alley again. The wolves were gone.
“I think so.” I yanked at my shirt. “This shit actually works, right? We’re fucked if they smell us and we get jumped by a dozen angry wolves.”
“Trust me, it’ll work. That shit I sprayed on us is high-grade wolf pheromones. I paid extra to get the powerful stuff. It can mute even dragon scent. We’re golden.”
“Okay,” I said, forcing my heart to slow. “You remember the plan?”
Christian flashed me a cocky grin and gave me a thumbs up. “All good. Unless we start getting chased or shot at, then it all goes out the window.”
That was putting it mildly. How the fuck had I gotten into this? I knew the answer to that, though. I could remember it like it had happened a moment before. The images of the broken back door, the cut security system wires, and the empty nest still haunted me. Worse was what had come next. I could still hear Joseph Anitoli’s voice echoing in my head.
“Listen, Jack. We need you to do this for us. It’s a simple smash-and-grab. You get what I need, you help us fuck over some of our rivals, and you play nice with us. After that? Maybe we talk more.”
Christian nudged me. “You okay, man?”
I blinked away the memory and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
The building was in a low-rent industrial area on the outskirts of Houston. Anitoli had sent me the address and left the planning up to me. The only good thing about it was that we were far from where most people ventured. It was seedy, dirty, and quiet. If this shit plan of mine was going to work, then we’d need to use every advantage we had. That Anitoli fucker had called me less than two days after my sister was taken. Two days into the stress and grieving, he’d strong-armed me into this bullshit heist. If not for Christian helping me, I had no idea how I’d pull this off.
“Come on,” I muttered.
Staying low, we rushed toward the garage door. As we drew near, the canine scent of the wolf shifters filled my nostrils, making it hard not to panic. They could return at any minute. We needed to hurry.
A massive padlock held the door shut, exactly as Anitoli had explained. At least it wasn’t a combination lock. If that had been the case, we’d have been fucked.
“Give me the gun,” I hissed.
He dug into his small hip bag and extracted the small lockpick gun I’d purchased the day before.
“Keep watching,” I said as I slid the pick into the padlock.
“Is that thing gonna work?” Christian asked, sniffing the air and craning his neck back and forth.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It worked when I tried it on my office door this morning.”
I pulled the trigger, and the device made a clicking sound that at a normal time would have sounded fairly quiet, but now sounded as loud as a shotgun blast to my ears. The padlock jerked and jittered in my hand as I continued pulling the trigger.
“Come on, come on,” I whispered.
“Jackson,” Christian said, his voice low and urgent.
“Hang on. I think I’ve almost got it.”
