Page 53 of Crimson Moon Falling

“They’re Central American Canis Hellhounds, and I know what they can do.”

Mangus pressed against my body, knocking me sideways a little as a thin curl of malodorous smoke rose from his nose.

“They’re cadejos.” I kept my voice even. “They’re trained, and they won’t be a problem. They’re also the reason we have fewer Apex operatives to deal with this morning.”

Decker studied Mangus for a long beat as the hellhound stared back at him with his glowing red eyes. Then his tail started wagging. Smart boy.

Decker must’ve been a dog man, because I saw the second he caved. “Gawd damn it. Fine, but they ride in the cargo area,” Decker finally bit out. “And if they damage my bird—”

“They won’t.” I scratched Mangus’s head. “He’s very well-behaved, considering.”

“Considering what?”

“That he’s a supernatural apex predator,” Parker offered cheerfully.

“You aren’t helping,” I muttered.

Decker scowled at Parker, then went back to checking his bird.

I heard his voice before I saw him. “Och, our pilot looks like he’s smiled twice in the past forty years. I like the lad already.”

Malcolm crossed the tarmac with his long, cocky stride, a pack slung over one shoulder, his red hair catching the early light. He grinned, and something warm broke through the ice.

“Hi, Red. Are you going to try and make me kneel again?” I grinned as Mangus gave a halfhearted growl.

Malcolm ignored the hellhounds and proper Resonant and Alpha Mate protocol, pulling me into a quick, solid hug. “No, lass. I learned my lesson the first time. I hear you nearly got yourself kidnapped again.” He stepped back and looked me over, his green eyes quick and assessing. “Nice scars. You’re collecting them.”

“Get your hands off my niece, asshole,” Parker muttered behind me.

Malcolm turned to him, his grin widening. “I see you haven’t lost yer sunny personality.”

“I see you’re still a smartass.”

Malcolm looked down at the hellhounds, then crouched and extended the back of his hand toward the black beast. Mangus sniffed, then exhaled a puff of sulfury smoke directly into Malcolm’s face.

The Scott blinked and stood. “Right.”

Athena glanced at him and looked away. “High praise,” I informed Malcolm.

He straightened and pointed to the two shifters hanging back behind him. “This is Cora, one of our medics. And this is Bart.” The woman was of medium height, with light brown hair cut short and practical. She assessed our group and gave a quick nod as discomfort radiated from her. Except when she glanced at Malcolm, her cheeks went pink. Interesting.

“The bonny lass is quite a talker,” Malcolm grinned, then turned to the other shifter. Bart was broad through the shoulders, with a sunburned face and a wide, easy grin. He stared at the Black Hawk with naked delight.

“We’re actually flying in this? Best assignment I’ve had all year.”

“Don’t jinx us, lad,” Malcolm muttered. Bart’s energy exuded uncomplicated warmth.

Decker stood with his hands on his hips, scowling as we loaded the gear, and I settled the hellhounds into the cargo area. Then I strapped in between Freda and Malcolm, my pack wedged at my feet.

The rotors began a slow build, the vibration moving up through my bones. Less than an hour later, the meadow came up beneath us, a wide pale spot between the tree lines. Freda handed out com-links as Decker expertly brought the Black Hawk down, and we were moving before the rotors finished spinning.

The hellhounds hit the ground first, Mangus shaking himself, and Athena scanning the tree line. I couldn’t believe how much faster the helicopter made the trip. Last time, we’d driven along the winding switchback road, then come in on foot.

Malcolm turned to me. “Tell me you have a plan.”

“I have an outline of a plan. We don’t know what we’re going to find at the site.”

“Same trail you used last time?” Parker asked.