The Hunter didn’t disappoint. Standing, Brett blew out a breath. “Ask the Enforcer to keep us informed. If Gillian will consent to going north, I’ll send her and Owen to check on him. We can do no more at this time.” As much as the fact chewed on his soul, he had no other resource to send to Luc’s aid.
“As you say, Brett.” Pierce didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he waited and a question lingered in his scent.
Glancing at his Hunter, Brett raised his brows. “Ask.”
“Do the Enforcers not have a healer of their own they can send?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Although he wouldn’t put it past Julian to keep the information under wraps if he did. The Enforcers were an entity unto themselves. “If they do, and they are that concerned for Luc’s well-being, they will most likely dispatch the healer.”
Frowning, Pierce scratched his chin. “I never thought about how Lone Wolves cope without access to a healer.”
“A lesson we are learning.” Brett returned his attention to the pack. The males were showing off, battling and gamboling through the underbrush as they wrestled for dominance. Owen was close enough to intervene if anyone got too stupid, and none of his pack was so foolish as to challenge the Willow Bend Hunter. Gillian had been right. Again. His pack needed to play together more. They were all isolating themselves. “Pierce…wait to call the Enforcer. I’ll talk to Gillian first. Luc may be a Lone Wolf. But he was ours before…he belonged to Hudson River. He didn’t follow the other idiots to Three Rivers last summer. If we can help him, we will—and if he needs a place to recover…” Pausing, he considered their options. He’d given the use of his grandfather’s house to Gillian and her mate. It was equipped for a healer, close to his home and he could protect them, but also not in his home which alleviated Owen’s territorial nature where his mate was concerned. “He can stay with Gillian and Owen—or at least in my grandfather’s home after they return to Willow Bend. He can convalesce here.”
“Yes, my Alpha.” Pride surged beneath the other wolf’s tone. Pride and perhaps relief. “Should I ask the Enforcer to bring Luc here?”
A possibility. “Tell him to use his judgment. The last thing we need is widespread human discovery, however Hudson River doesn’t leave our wolves behind.”
“Yes, sir.” A moment later, the wolf vanished along the trail, a fresh spring evident in his step. Was the Hunter so pleased with Brett’s taking responsibility? Or did the pleasure root in the idea of Luc coming home?
Probably both.
Crossing his arms, Brett remained in his human form as both he and his wolf watched over their pack. No one would hurt them again.
He’d failed them once. He’d die before he allowed it to happen again.
Chapter One
Colby Jensen whistled as she strode through the hospital doors. Eight hours of emptying bedpans, distributing magazines, flowers, and lunch trays while entertaining cranky patients, then she was free. Free from community service, free from the halfway house, and free from Alba, Maine. God, I can’t wait. The mantra echoed in her thoughts as she headed for the elevators. St Martha’s had two major wings and seven floors for the residents of Kennicanton County.
The whole population of Alba could fit within the precincts of the hospital. Well, maybe not the whole town but most of it. The sooner she blew out of there, the better. The elevator dinged her arrival to the fifth floor ward, and she stripped out of her jacket as the doors parted.
Miranda Wilson stood like a sentinel awaiting her arrival. Her stony face gave Colby pause, and she exited the elevator slowly. No way was she late. Flicking a quick look at the clock on the far wall above the nurse’s station, she sighed with relief. The clock literally ticked onto the hour.
Whew. Heart still hammering, she met Miranda’s gaze. The floor’s charge nurse had overseen Colby’s community service from day one and she’d been a fair, if stern, taskmaster. “Your card?”
The dreaded time card—Miranda initialed it at the start of a shift and the end. Twice in the last twelve months she’d refused to fudge the time when Colby arrived late—once because her car had a flat tire and the second time when she’d overslept. Tardiness would not be excused, no matter how reasonable the reason. Tugging the card out of her purse, she passed it over. “Good morning, Miranda.”
“Good morning, Colby.” Miranda carried the time card with her to the nurse’s station and Colby trailed her. Her good mood diminished under the other woman’s cool attitude. At the desk, she studied the card before retrieving her pen. “You have an eight hour shift today?”