Pride (Shifters #3)(28)

“What happened to the attempted-murder charge? Was that just a ploy?”
“Not just a ploy…” Michael mumbled.
The coffee table creaked when my father stood, then lowered himself into the armchair on my right. “We reported the incident to the entire council via a conference call, while you and Radley were both still out. I suggested the charge because all we knew at the time was that he’d chased you and punctured your stomach.”
“Isn’t that enough to hold him on?”
“Of course it is.” He frowned, eyeing me sternly. “If you can honestly tell me you believe he meant to kill you. Can you? Because Marc says you were alone with him for several minutes before they found you, and that he could have killed you anytime he wanted to.”
I glanced at Marc, surprised he would speak up in Radley’s defense. He shrugged. “The truth is the truth, whether I like it or not.”
Impressed all over again with his professionalism, I nodded. I was a big fan of the truth. Usually. “Oh, fine. He wasn’t trying to kill me. But he wasn’t trying to save me from anything else bumping around out there, either. He never intended to let me go. I have no doubt about that.”All three men nodded in agreement, and my father picked up a mug from the end table. “I don’t doubt that. But the fact is that he’s worth more to us out there—” he gestured toward the window and the great outdoors “—than he is tied up in here, where we’ll trip over him every time one of us crosses the room.”
“Not to mention the fact that we don’t need him overhearing our every word.” Michael swept a limp strand of brown hair from his forehead. “I don’t think he’s that innocent.”
Overhearing us. Of course. That’s why my dad had put the prisoner in the shower: so the running water would block out our discussion. Damn, I have a lot to learn…
I nodded. “So what’s the plan?”
“Radley’s going to lead a large team to that cabin, on the off chance they’re still there. If they are, we bring them in. If not, Radley goes about his business with his eyes and ears open for any trouble. He’s been here longer than we have and no doubt knows the woods much better.”
“And if he doesn’t want to play along?”
“He doesn’t have that option.” The hard line of Marc’s jaw said he wasn’t as happy with the plan as he wanted me to think. He’d go along because Zeke Radley held our best chance of catching the strays. And because our Alpha was calling the shots. But Marc didn’t trust the stranger any more than I did.
From the end of the hall, the sound of running water dribbled to a halt and metal rings rattled as the shower curtain was pulled back. Radley was out of the tub, and our privacy had expired.
A quarter of an hour later, a clean, dressed Zeke Radley sat at the kitchen table, ignoring us all as he scarfed down his second microwavable chicken potpie. Michael and Jace sat on either side of him, silently chewing canned clam chowder, and the combined scents of their odd, predawn breakfast were not appetizing, even from the living room where I sat on the couch, trying to move as little as possible.
Radley wore a tattered but fresh pair of jeans and a solid black T, both donated by Marc, just to piss our “guest” off, even though Jace was closer to the stray’s size.
In guy logic—an oxymoron if I’d ever heard one—since Marc had technically done Radley a favor by clothing him, the stray was now in debt to him, even though he’d only accepted the clothes because refusing them would have been a blatant insult to the lender. And the best part was that now Radley had to walk around smelling like Marc, which was practically an admission of Marc’s dominance. And the source of our guest’s steady scowl.
Someone knocked on the front door as Radley spooned the last drops of gravy from the paper pie plate, and Lucas stood to admit the last two members of the team my father and the tribunal had assembled. First through the door was Nate, Paul Blackwell’s grandson, whom I’d expected. But I had not expected Danny Carver, who came in right behind him. 
“Hey, Doc.” I leaned forward to see around Marc, who sat very close to me. “You here to see me, or to play in the woods with the other boys?”
His ubiquitous smile widened when his eyes met mine. “Both.” He shrugged. “I haven’t gotten my paws dirty in a while. Thought it might be fun.”
“That, and we’re running short on uninjured, available enforcers,” Marc murmured into my ear. Logically, I knew he was just trying to keep Radley from overhearing anything about our manpower shortage. Still, my pulse jumped and my face flushed when his lips brushed my ear.
Dr. Carver edged between the couch and the coffee table and held one hand out to me. I took it, and he helped me gently to my feet. “How you feeling?”
“Like I’m already tired of answering that question.”
He nodded, laughing softly. “Sounds about right. Let’s take a look.”
I let the doctor lead me back to my bedroom, where I lowered myself gingerly onto the bed and pulled the hem of my shirt up to my sternum. He carefully peeled back the tape holding my bandages in place and inspected the stitches, talking the whole time.
“I just treated similar wounds on Brett Malone, and I have to say, you’re a much easier patient to deal with. You haven’t hissed at me once.” He grinned. “Of course, you only have twenty stitches. He has closer to one hundred.”
Smiling, I closed my eyes as the doctor spread clean squares of gauze over my stomach. “Is he okay?”
Dr. Carver nodded, taping the new bandages in place. “He’s gonna be fine. Not as soon as you will, naturally. Your gashes are closing up nicely.” Standing, he tossed the used gauze into the trash can by the door. “But I want you to go to sleep.”
I nodded, but he ignored my assurances as if he knew I didn’t really mean them. “I’m serious, Faythe.” He frowned down at me, showing the strict-doctor side of him I rarely saw. “If you don’t get some rest and let your body do its job, you won’t be ready to Shift tomorrow, and you’ll have to spend another day sitting on the couch.”
“I got it, Doc.” Surely my wide-eyed, innocent look was more convincing than a mere nod. “Stay in bed, sleep all night.” Fortunately, the night was nearly over.
“Exactly. And this is to make sure you do as you’re told for once.” From his pocket, Dr. Carver pulled a brown plastic prescription bottle, from which he poured two more of those stupid sleeping pills. “Don’t worry,” he said in response to the panic that must have been written all over my face. “These don’t work very well on us, as you may have noticed. You’ll only be out for a few hours, and you’re not going to miss anything.”
“Oh, fine.” I swallowed the pills with a gulp from the water he handed me. Then I had to stick my tongue out and wiggle it up and down to convince Dr. Carver that I’d actually ingested the damn things.
Ten minutes later, the guys filed out the front door, Zeke Radley sandwiched between Marc and Lucas. Marc and Jace both said good-night before leaving, but neither of them even hesitated to go on without me. They’d made the usual promises to come back safely, and to tell me the whole story when they returned. Then they’d left me alone with my father and brother, both of whom refused to speak to me for fear of keeping me awake.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but I definitely remember waking up. When my eyes opened, the first thing I noticed was how bright my bedroom was, even though the lamp was unlit. The alarm clock read 8:04.Damn. It’s morning. I’d slept through the whole rest of the night—nearly three hours.
But the annoyingly bright sunlight wasn’t what woke me. Voices had interrupted my sleep. Angry voices, one of them my father’s.
“—let him go? Why would you do that?” Malone demanded. From the sound of it, he and my father were arguing in the living room, right outside my door. And they clearly had no idea I was awake.
“It was my call, and I made the decision I thought best. I stand by that decision. The cabin was empty—probably had been for a couple of days—and Radley stands a much better chance of finding them than we do. He knows the forest, and they have to be familiar with his scent by now, so they won’t think twice about him wandering around, whereas one whiff of any of our toms would send them running. We need Radley’s help, and we’re not going to get that with him wasting away in front of the television.”
“He’s a criminal, Greg. I know your perspective on criminal behavior has changed a bit lately, but Radley’s a stray. You have no reason to protect him. He nearly killed your daughter, for crying out loud. You should have his rear paw hanging from your key chain like a rabbit’s foot. Instead, it’s prancing around the woods with his other three, without a care in the world.”
“You’d see my daughter executed tomorrow if you could, Calvin.” My father’s voice was dangerous, and so low I could barely hear it. “Should I take your paw, too?”
A thrill raced up my spine and down my limbs at Malone’s silence. I would have given almost anything to see his expression at that moment. It was fear. It had to be. Surely he was about to mess in his pants after being threatened by my father, even indirectly. Anyone else would be.