Alpha Wolf Defender (Awakened Shifters Book 2) Read online

  Alpha Wolf Defender

  Keri Hudson

   Copyright 2019 by Keri Hudson - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Other books by Keri Hudson

  CHAPTER ONE

  Jack Billings knew the rest of the extraction crew was waiting and ready for his signal to come in and sweep up. He’d done their dirty work before, of course, but never a subject this high-level, never an operation so covert.

  Still not sure why, Jack thought as he made his way through the streets, Mogadishu hot under the Somali sun. President’s two sons, big deal; if they’re dumb enough to ditch the Secret Service and get themselves kidnapped, while on a big game hunting trip no less, they deserve a pop in the back of the head just for being so fucking stupid. Probably win the old man a few sympathy votes when push comes to shove. I’m a little surprised they’re not sending me in to make sure the job gets done.

  A group of kids ran down the dirt street, shrieking and cackling and ignoring him. They’re lucky to be alive, he thought. Hope they scatter before they catch some friendly fire. Jack glanced around and turned right, one bombed-out shell of a building much resembling another. But the density of young men increased slightly, giving life to the barren block and telling Jack that he was heading in the right direction. Afraid of looking weak, has to go in and save the day. He’s going in… Jack shook his head. What a joke!

  Jack pulled down his hijab to better hide his black crewcut and blue eyes. Jack’s instincts burst in the back of his brain and he quickly ducked into an empty building as he passed. Waiting in silent stillness, Jack listened as two men approached outside, footsteps and conversation getting louder as they neared. Jack didn’t know the language, sounding something like Farsi, but he didn’t need to know it. He could tell by their tone that they seemed unalarmed, and that meant to Jack that they hadn’t seen him.

  Yet.

  They kept talking as they walked past, only a foot or so from Jack, a crumbling cinderblock wall between them. Their voices and footsteps got softer again, leaving Jack with the strong suspicion that they were among the pirates he was looking for.

  They were heading directly toward his target.

  Intel had narrowed their location to an old elementary school, no doubt imagining that the US forces would consider local children an effective human shield. But there weren’t any kids anywhere near the school, which Jack spotted at the end of the block. Where his targets were inside the school, or if they were still there at all, he couldn’t be sure. But the closer Jack got, the more vulnerable he’d be, and the more visible.

  So Jack pulled off his robes and gear, tucking them under a fallen piece of plywood before making his transformation. The shift happened quickly, effortlessly, thick fur blooming from his human skin, face stretching into a long snout, fangs growing white and sharp as those jaws clacked shut. He fell forward onto all fours, standing five feet tall at the shoulders, a canine growl deep and low in his chest, ridge rising along his spine. With his vastly improved lupine senses, Jack could hear and smell what he never could in his human form. Tracking down his targets would be no problem. And despite his increased size, he’d be able to run much faster, be visible for much less time, and still crouch down and move low in a way no human could, shifter or not.

  Jack kept low and crept through the building, handily jumping up to the second level and crawling through a hole to the next apartment. He made his way quickly and gracefully through the building and then out into the alley, where he had to move east a block before turning to head north again, the school dead ahead.

  One man stood, his head completely wrapped in a red hijab, his machine gun a stark black against his beige bisht over his baggy serwal, ghutra tied over his head with the traditional egal. The pirate stood, glancing around. A sniff of the air told Jack that the man was exuding no pheromones. He seemed unbothered and therefore was still unaware of Jack’s proximity.

  When the man looked down the street in one direction, Jack took a few stealthy steps. He ducked between two buildings as the man shifted and looked back. But if he was looking for anything, it would have been men, or Jeeps, or even drones; not a dog, no matter how big.

  Once Jack was close enough, he made a fast run at the man, growling as he leapt, the man turning with a shocked gasp and raising his machine gun too late to even get a single shot off. Jack’s jaws locked around the man’s throat and a hard clamp crushed those tender tissues, windpipe collapsing as a dollop of blood burst out from between his gasping lips. The man let go of his machine gun to reach for his throat, grasping and gagging and crawling away to die.

  Jack’s killing instincts had been ignited, and he was all too ready to let them pull him toward another guard, standing only ten yards off or so and clearly about to spot him. Jack started running, bolting into a fast charge, head low, eyes fixed on the man’s head as he turned, about to catch sight of the charging lupine.

  He finally did put eyes on Jack, suddenly wide under his raised brows. His mouth opened in what was obviously shock and disbelief, the stench of fear pouring off of him as Jack pounced. The poor bastard managed to squeeze off a few shots, but his frail, human body could offer little response or resistance. With a loud crack and the motionless limpness of his foe, Jack knew the man was dying fast.

  He’d be no further threat. But his gunshots would bring others. It was time to penetrate the schoolyard and save those hostages.

  Amazing that they’ve managed to keep this quiet as long as they have, Jack thought as he jumped the fence, higher than any human could jump, before landing with ease on the concrete below, a move that would have shattered the bones of many dogs, much less humans.

  They really are pathetic, in so many ways.

  Jack ran across the school yard, more focus on the dead men behind him than on the strange creature making its way across the campus. Jack could already hear the voices of men as they speculated, easy to imagine them looking around for who or what had slaughtered the two men.

  Men, he thought. Hardly. But they are the dominant species, after all, and probably should be. With the rising tensions between us lupes and the bear shifters, there won’t be enough stability for either species to establish any kind of peace. We�
��ll wind up killing them before killing each other, turn the whole planet back over to the insects.

  Jack sniffed the air, looking for the scents familiar from the two men’s personal objects, enough to imprint the scents on Jack’s brain. They were close, they were alive, and he could already smell the stench of their fear, sweat, and urine mixed with chemicals no human could pick up.

  Jack glanced around, the scent becoming clearer as he focused in on the auditorium.

  Stupid move, too many entrances, too much space inside. Place could be rigged to explode, probably is.

  Jack sniffed again, his nostrils filling with dust and gunpowder, human body odor, cigarette smoke, manure—but no nitroglycerine, no dynamite.

  Could still be using plastic explosives, Jack had to caution himself as he crept across the campus, more human voices shouting behind him.

  And they’re not all bad, Jack had to silently admit. Some of them have real love and care in their hearts, concern for the planet. A lot of people are hardworking, decent, honest folks who deserve more than they get in life.

  Jack ducked behind another big building, a line of classrooms, the nearest thing to the small auditorium. An armed pirate stood in front of the side entrance nearest to Jack’s position. He’d have to charge the man head-on, but it was over twenty yards and while Jack’s lupine craving for a fight urged him on, his instincts warned caution. It was too far to go without being seen, and the man had a good chance of getting off a barrage that might not only do some real damage, but reveal his location there and that would endanger the mission.

  Honest people, Jack thought, almost unable to conjure a vision of such a thing. Not these two nitwits, Jack also had to admit, but I am a soldier in my way, and this is the assignment. And I don’t fail.

  Failure is for humans.

  The only recourse was to draw the man away from his post, to lure him across the stretch of yard to where Jack could pounce. Jack glanced around and noticed a window to one disused classroom, cracked down the middle but not yet shattered. Jack growled, took a step back, and jumped through the window and into the classroom, glass shattering around him.

  Jack crouched low, taking a position against the wall just under the newly shattered window. Jack could sense a growing tension around him, using a sense few humans could access. But using his superior lupine hearing and smell, he could feel the man coming toward him. He would have heard the glass break and knew something or someone would have had to have broken it.

  Humans, Jack thought again, head low, body unmoving as he waited. The man’s footsteps came slowly, and Jack could sense his caution. So predictable.

  He came closer, footsteps louder but even slower. Jack could hear the man’s lungs churning, his heartbeat getting faster. The man’s instincts are good, Jack realized, he knows there’s something on the other side of this wall, somebody waiting. The hairs are standing on the back of his neck, salty sweat coating his palms and fingers, the oil of the gun pungent, closer.

  The man’s shadow crept over Jack and onto the floor as he approached the window, clearly ready to fire.

  Jack tilted his head just a bit, the corner of his eye able to see the man’s gun pointing into the room, ready to point downward and shoot, but choosing first to point to the left, where a man could just as easily be standing.

  That’s a fair bet, Jack knew, given what little information this poor bastard has; not nearly enough.

  Jack lurched up, jaws grabbing the machine gun barrel and yanking it into the room. The man held tight, however, and was pulled into the room up to the shoulders. Jack released the gun and bit down again, this time into the man’s upper arm. He grunted in pain and Jack pulled him into the room with a single quick turn of his head.

  Jack threw the man onto the floor and was quickly upon him, biting into his throat and pulling it free of the man’s neck. He wouldn’t be warning anybody of Jack’s position, nor raising any arms against him.

  Jack had a clear shot straight to the entrance, though he had no way of knowing if it would be open when he got there, or rigged to explode when he tried to enter through it. A quick dash brought him to the door, and a sniff at the door told him it wasn’t rigged, at least not with anything he could detect—no copper wire, no rubber insulation.

  Jack reared up on his hind legs and used his forepaws to open the door and enter the auditorium. The place was quiet, a dark hallway leading to the rear of a raised stage, facing dozens of rows of seats.

  “Mustaf? Mustaf!”

  Jack offered no answer, savoring instead the rising worry in the man’s voice. Jack crept around and crouched down at the side of the stage. The two presidential sons were each seated on a chair, wearing soiled hunting khakis, wool sacks over their heads, arms tied behind their backs and ankles tied together.

  “Mustaf!”

  The guard stepped toward Jack, who was crouching low. But he knew he’d be seen soon enough, and he had little choice but to attack. The man screamed and raised his machine gun, getting off a few shots. But Jack knew he was a hard target despite his size, his slender body and lupine shape giving a head-on adversary little margin of error. And with his incredible swiftness and agility, it was little effort to dodge the shots and attack the man. His jaws locked down around the man’s throat, a sharp pull dislodging his throat from its hold on his neck and spine, gurgled choking announcing the man’s imminent demise.

  The president’s two sons, men in their thirties, sat panting and whimpering under those wool sacks, new urine stains spreading across their pants.

  The doors on the other side of the auditorium burst open and another guard stood with his machine gun in hand. He spotted Jack, massive on that stage, looming over the body of another victim. The man screamed something Jack couldn’t understand before raising the machine gun and firing.

  Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba!

  The two presidential sons cried and whimpered under their sacks, voices muffled, words unclear.

  Jack jumped from the stage, just in time to escape the barrage of hot lead. He took two shots in his left flank, but they didn’t go deep and Jack knew he’d expel them easily enough. He landed on the floor of the auditorium and was quick to duck between the third and fourth row of seats. The man screamed something else and fired again, spraying his deadly bullets over the rows of seats.

  Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba!

  When the pause in the shooting came, Jack leapt up from behind one row, flying forward several rows before landing on several seats, which crumbled under his weight.

  Ba-ba-ba-ba chk chk chk chk chk.

  Jack knew the man was out of bullets, and he was keen to deliver the death blow. Jack jumped again, forepaws out and jaws gaping, dripping with hungry drool. The man screamed and held the empty rifle up in front of him, as if it might provide some defense.

  It didn’t.

  The man tried to push against Jack, jamming the machine gun up at his snout, those snapping jaws, before they finally closed down around the man’s throat. A vigorous shake did the job, the man’s arms dropping to his sides, machine gun clacking uselessly at his side.

  But another man peered in through the open door. He looked at Jack, mouth wide with terror, before turning to run. Jack leapt onto him from behind, jaws clamping down around the back of his neck. The man screamed, reaching back, fingers splayed as they reached for any way to repeal his viscous attack. Another sharp shake ended the man’s struggle and his life.

  Bam! Jack took another shot, this one in the side. It was a deeper shot, and Jack knew he had to end his mission decisively, and soon. Jack ran at the man who shot him, ducking the man’s pistol fire until he was close enough to pounce. He made quick work of the man, but there were more coming.

  Jack marshaled his strength, growled, and turned to charge at the remaining Somali pirates, gunfire crackling around him, the men doing more damage to one another than they did to Jack.

  Thirty minutes later, it was all over. The auditorium was s
trewn with blood and bodies, any survivors having fled for their lives. Jack looked around, the blood of his enemies still on his lips, lupine blood charging in his veins.

  He threw his head back and let out a long, lupine wail, a howl that cut through the air and sailed above Mogadishu. The nearby rescue team was ready for it, waiting, and Jack knew they’d be pouring into that auditorium in a matter of moments. His slaughter had cleared the area, so there was no reason to stay. The president’s sons had been wearing wool sacks, so they hadn't seen him or what he was capable of. The extraction team would take credit for their rescue, Jack's secret, shared by the government, would remain safe, and the embattled president would be handed a rare win.

  Jack turned and walked out of the auditorium, fearless as he stalked back across the campus toward the streets where his clothes and other personal objects were hidden, waiting for him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jack spent some downtime in New York City after returning to the States from Somalia. It was a striking contrast to Mogadishu, shimmering skyscrapers without a single vacancy replacing the bombed-out shells he’d so recently been among. Cars jammed the streets of Manhattan, those who carried guns had the good sense to hide them.

  But some things didn’t change, and Jack knew they never would no matter where in the world he went. There were gunmen everywhere, pirates no less bloodthirsty than in Somalia, criminals and kidnappers and rapists and murderers behind every corner. Somalis, domestic terrorists, ISIS, humans were always anxious to band together under the unifying principle of killing others with the same idea.

  Jack shook his head as he walked through the Bronx Zoo, world famous for its array of animals great and small. They looked out at him from behind their cages and enclosures, most taking no mind of the lone man walking from exhibit to exhibit. But he took note of every one, marking the relaxed indifference of the smaller, lesser creatures—ferrets and impala and penguins going about their animal business as if all were perfectly right with the world.