Savage Seduction: A Dire Wolves Mission (The Devil's Dires Book 3) (2 page)

T
he sound
of her bare feet hitting the shiny, wood floors rattled Charmeine more than she would ever admit. It was the sound of fear, of panic, of everything she fought against. A sound that brought back the worst of her memories, that haunted her most vivid nightmares. A sound easily disguised, but not yet. There simply wasn’t time.

To keep from leaving without shoes, Charmeine yanked a pair of nude heels from a shelf in her walk-in closet and tucked them under her arm. Dresses, sweaters, and slacks came next, piles of clothes with designer labels that meant nothing to her. But they were required for her life, so she would make sure she brought them with her. When she couldn’t carry any more, she rushed back into her bedroom and dropped the pile unceremoniously in front of her assistant.

“I only need the shoes right now.” Charmeine grabbed the heels and slid them on her feet with a grimace. Not the most practical choice, but subtle. A pair that would match just about anything she chose to wear. A pair that would replace the soft pads of her feet with a clack that nearly echoed in the long hallways of her swanky Manhattan apartment.

But by God, did she hate them.

Ethan—her second cousin on her mother’s side, her personal assistant, and the only family member she had left in the world—pawed through the pile of clothes, folding what he could before stuffing everything in a tan suitcase. Everything so very tan. “We need to be on the road in three minutes.”

“I only need two.” Charmeine rushed out of the room and down the hall, the harsh sound of her shoes a marked difference to the softer thuds from only a few moments before. She could already feel the change within her that the shoes inspired. She walked taller, straighter, put a little extra swing in her step. Her shoulders were back, her chin up, and her eyes focused straight ahead. She had a job to do. A part to play in the show that was her family’s life and legacy. She would not fail.

But first, she needed to get out of the state. Alive.

Charmeine pushed open the door to the study and crossed the wool carpet lying under her father’s heavy desk. He hadn’t sat there for so long, not since the last time he’d been in their New York City home. Since the first time Charmeine had been forced to run for her life.

Without pausing to remember those better times, she pulled the family portrait off the wall. It was a good likeness of the three of them—her mother, tall and slender, blond and fair. Her father, bigger, though still fair and ever so handsome. And Charmeine herself in a color of pink she hadn’t worn since the day the attacks had reached her family. The picture was one she’d spent many hours staring at over the years, wondering about the people who’d given her life, missing them immensely. It pained her knowing that painting would be in the trash within a few hours.

Picture frame out of the way, the ring in the drywall to open the secret panel became much more obvious, though essentially invisible to someone who didn’t know it was there. Charmeine, though, had always known. Had been taught and trained on what to do on a night like this one from the time she was a little girl in pigtails. A wolf shifter too young to call her animal side forward and do anything to help when evil came knocking.

Focus. Run. Escape.

Panel open, the face of the safe stared back at her. Charmeine spun the dial for the correct number combination, then pressed her thumb to the scanner. When the first door unlocked with a soft clunk, she pulled it open and entered the second code into the keypad. A soft, blue light began to blink on the face of the fireplace, one hidden completely in the ornate carvings. Charmeine hunched over to look directly into it, letting the retinal scanner do its job. This time, the lock popped with a hiss, a release of the temperature-controlled air that kept the family’s most important possessions safe.

“Time to go,” Ethan called, the sound of his hurried footsteps disappearing down the hall. Charmeine didn’t bother turning around. She had spent one minute, tops, opening the safe. She had one more before the danger truly escalated. Plenty of time for what she needed to do.

Stacks of money blocked the front of the compartment, a tease for anyone who happened to get this far. One she ignored. Charmeine pulled out every pack, dropping them to the floor without care. Bags of loose gems came next, then the gold and silver bars. All hitting the floor, probably damaging the wood and scaring her downstairs neighbors. Not that she cared any longer.

When the path was clear, Charmeine stepped up onto the fireplace grate to reach into the back of the compartment. There, in a simple linen bag, sat the treasure she’d been after. The things she refused to leave behind. The things she would never forgive herself for losing.

Mission accomplished.

With barely a glance at the mess, Charmeine grabbed two stacks of bills just in case, pocketed the linen bag, and headed for the hallway.

Ethan met her in the formal foyer. “One minute.”

“Told you I wouldn’t need all three.” Charmeine grabbed her sunglasses off the table and threw her purse over her arm. “Make sure Al knows to come deal with the money and gems in the safe. If the bastards leave anything.”

“It could take weeks for him to get the trust set up so we can pull from that.”

“We’ll manage. There’s no time to deal with it now.”

The two headed down the elevator in tense silence. Three hired guards escorted them, not that Charmeine trusted them. In fact, there were only two people on earth Charmeine trusted. Ethan and Finn, one she was running with and the other she was running to. The two men whose families had been tasked with taking care of her after her parents’ death.

No, not death. She refused to think of their end in such a generic manner.

After the slaughter of her parents.

The guards stayed close as they reached the lobby of the building, blocking Charmeine’s view but leading her toward what she knew was the entrance. Forcing her to put her faith in them, no matter how hard she wanted to rebel at the thought. Once outside, the bulky men spread out a bit. Blocking the sidewalk, making sure the path from door to car was clear. Without a pause, Ethan and Charmeine strode across the concrete and slipped into the backseat of the dark town car idling at the curb.

Almost done.

The interior darkened considerably the second the door closed, the tinted windows blocking almost all light. One guard came around the driver’s side and climbed into the back with them, another joining the driver in the front.

“Go.” Ethan commanded the driver’s attention with that single word. The car lurched into traffic, speeding down the avenue and spinning into a curve onto a side street.

“We did it,” Ethan said, seeming relieved.

Charmeine wasn’t so confident. “We’ll celebrate once we’re in the air.”

She hadn’t intended on staying in New York for much longer anyway, but the arrival of danger on their doorstep had rushed even her quick trip. Still, she needed to come, to close things up. To grab the last of her memories and say good-bye to her old life. It was time for new, time for different. Time for a change.

This wasn’t their first time running, but hopefully, it would be their last.

As Ethan relaxed into his seat, Charmeine pulled her phone from her bag and tapped the messaging app, frowning as she typed a quick note.

The venue for the anniversary party must be changed.

The response from Finn was just as fast.

What did the hotel do and how can I help?

Not the hotel, the chefs. They refuse to cook in that kitchen.

Should I speak to the hotel manager?

Charmeine bit back a smile. Good old Finn, always trying to handle every detail.

No, I’ve taken care of everything.

When should I expect an update on venue?

Charmeine looked up, grabbing Ethan’s attention. “How long is the flight?”

The smile he shot her was a slightly irritated one, and something she was quickly growing tired of seeing from him. “About three hours.”

Charmeine went back to her phone, knowing Finn would be waiting for a response.
Give me thirty minutes. If I run into any issues, I’ll contact Conner for assistance.

I’ll be waiting for your call.

The guard seated with them cleared his throat. “Discretion would make things easier, Miss Byrne.”

Charmeine raised an eyebrow, wanting so badly to roll her eyes but knowing a Byrne could never be seen doing something so ridiculous. “Are you questioning my ability to work in secret?”

The guard, some hired human with a list of military titles longer than she could ever remember, looked a bit uncomfortable. Good.

“I wasn’t implying—”

Charmeine’s eyebrow nearly hit the ceiling. “Yes, you were.”

“Someone sold you out,” he replied, holding her gaze. An angry seriousness to his face. “Someone who knew where you’d be staying, what your plans were for the afternoon. Someone on the inside. I’m not calling you reckless, but the game has changed. Sending messages to anyone could be dangerous for your overall safety.”

Charmeine could acknowledge when a man was correct, but in that moment, he wasn’t. To prove herself—though why she felt the need, she’d never know—she tossed her phone to the man and sat back. “See for yourself.”

His confused expression as he read the screen only made her want to smile. Smugly. Another thing she had to hold back. Her entire life had somehow become about restraint, a thought that didn’t sit well with her.

Instead of smug, she pressed her lips into a flat line as he handed her phone to a curious Ethan. “Finn and I never speak directly about the issues unless it’s in person, and even then, our words are reserved. We have codes for everything.”

“Parties and chefs?”

Charmeine shrugged, looking out the window as the boisterous city she’d rarely been able to enjoy flew by. Good-bye, New York. “Other shifters think I’m a rich, spoiled socialite with a tragic past. That language fits the assumption of me being a party princess.”

Ethan glanced at the phone with a frown. “But what does it all mean?”

Charmeine hesitated. Ethan was family—a bit of a stretch, really, but the only family she had—but he didn’t know everything about her. Not even close. Finn was the only person who knew more, and even
he
didn’t know all. Secrets and lies, what her very few personal relationships were built on. But she couldn’t let her guard down, not after decades of being hunted. Especially not after this day.

“It doesn’t matter what each means.” Charmeine took her phone back, slipping it into her purse once more. “All that matters is that Finn knows we’re coming. He’ll be waiting for us.”

Ethan seemed irritated by her rebuff, but she couldn’t worry about that. The guard was more than likely correct. Someone
had
sold her out, someone who knew her plans. If the police officer she’d secretly had in her pocket for the last eight years hadn’t been so attentive, hadn’t noticed the cars around the back of the building and the increased foot traffic heading into the basement of the high-rise, she could have been dead already. Her entire staff, dead. Her family legacy completely wiped out.

Something she could
not
allow to happen.

Charmeine crossed her legs and pulled a notebook out of her bag, forcing herself to focus on the work she needed to complete. The entire refugee chain had been alerted to the fact that someone knew her movements. Already, across the country, there were probably families on the run, all slowly converging on Fort Worth, Texas over the next few weeks. There were plans to be made, deals to put into place, and lives to save. Finn had been building a strong business front in the city for the past few years, a web of informants and hit men they would need to protect families targeted like hers had been. The ones who worried about every stranger, who built walls around every aspect of their lives in an effort to avoid the treachery of their enemy. Yes, Finn had spent two years setting up a place they could live and the protection they would need to do so, but even he hadn’t planned on this sort of sudden migration from everyone in the chain.

Neither had Charmeine.

“We’re going to need a building.” She tapped her pen on the pad of paper before writing a task list that would be shared with her staff. “Ethan, pull up real estate listings. We’ll need a big house, maybe a few guesthouses or outbuildings. A farm, perhaps? Somewhere close to open land would be nice for the children.”

Ethan had his tablet out and ready, typing on the screen as she spoke. “It could take weeks to close. Should I look into immediate rentals for the interim?”

“Good idea. And we’ll need supplies.” Keeping her notebook close to her chest so the guard couldn’t see what she was writing, Charmeine turned the page and started writing down a list of all the items they might need to house the desperate shifters they served. She wanted everything in place, the minutia of life acquired and stocked, before the first refugee child stepped foot on Texas soil.

She would not allow another family to be destroyed by the bastards who’d taken hers.

I
t had always amused
Mammon how humans considered certain days more social than others and therefore made it culturally appropriate to drink and celebrate on a weekday. Thursday night was a big one, if the crowd at the nightclub was any indication. Once again, he sat in the corner, nursing a beer and watching the young and wealthy shifters live it up across the dance floor. The only difference from the last time Mammon had sat in that exact spot being the leader of the pack across the way.

He didn’t look as if he was having a good time.

Finn O’Rourke also sat tucked into a corner, though he had the comfort of a swanky, padded booth whereas Mammon’s ass suffered in a wooden chair. One would think the most VIP person in the club would be having a great time, but that wasn't true for Finn. He sat slightly hunched over, scowling at the table. The man’s highball glass should have shattered if looks could kill, and the members of his crew were all keeping a wide berth. Even the women he'd brought seemed to be avoiding him. Alone, Finn sulked in a corner, looking angry and completely absorbed by something other than what was happening in the club.

An interesting tidbit for sure. Mammon had two weeks left to prove the guy was as dirty as they come, and guys who looked as if their world was falling apart were usually easy targets.

Mammon pulled out his phone and shot off a quick text. Deus, with his knowledge of computers and information retrieval, could get his hands on more documents and classified information than Mammon would know what to do with. If anyone could figure out what was going on in the city that could distract a man like Finn, Deus would find it.

Four minutes and a fresh beer later, the response came in with a ping. Nothing. Nada. No word about bad deals in Fort Worth or any sort of situation that would result in a loss of income for the crime lord. Not exactly what Mammon wanted to hear, but he wouldn’t give up digging. If only he could figure out a way to infiltrate the pack. To dig deeper into their protected little world and blow them up from the inside. That would be a major coup, sneaky and slightly over the lines Blasius had set for them, but deserved. The O'Rourke pack didn’t play by the rules so neither would Mammon.

Hell, the O’Rourke pack didn’t even seem to understand there were rules to be played by.

Normally, when a shifter pack moved into a town where an established wolf or pack had residence, they would approach with caution. Maybe introduce themselves. Feel out the locals and make sure they weren't crossing any claimed territory so as not to offend. Not the O’Rourkes. Finn moved in one day and started taking over the shakedown business the next. There was no local pack to speak of—not within a fifty-mile range, really—but Mammon had been there. He was well known among the few shifters in the city. Finn should have given him the respect of an intro before taking over a job the human criminals in the area had handled for years. Not that Mammon gave a fuck about human criminals out of business—hell, he was glad for that. But Finn had handled his arrival in a way that screamed of disrespect and greed, two things that grated on Mammon's nerves. So he sat, and he watched the bastard, and he waited for a chance to prove his theories correct.

As Mammon took a drink of his beer, one of the raven-haired shewolves Finn had brought walked by. She tossed him a sultry look and a smile, both of which gave him an idea. He stood and followed her toward the back hallway, tracking her swinging hips like prey. If he could convince her to talk to him, maybe entice her to offer up a little info, he’d have an in. He wasn’t proud of his plan, didn’t like using a shewolf in that way, but desperation wasn’t something he was used to dealing with. He could not fail.

But the woman wasn’t alone in the hallway when he caught up to her. In fact, she was already in a serious conversation with another girl from the group. A conversation Mammon was happy to eavesdrop on if it meant getting what he needed. He settled against a wall a solid twenty feet away and pulled out his cell phone, looking to all the world like a man reading his emails or texts. Completely focused, just not by the device in his hand.

“Why tomorrow?” the woman he’d been following asked. “Can’t they give us more notice?”

The other one, a blond nymph of a girl, shrugged. “Finn said she deserved a homecoming party, so he’s throwing her one.”

His target did not look pleased at that. “Wonderful. That’s all we need—Charmeine Byrne coming to town and screwing up the pack order.”

Nymph frowned. “She’s not his Alpha female.”

“But she sure as hell acts like it whenever she’s around. He should just choose someone to help him lead, already. Our pack will never find balance under an Alpha male without a female by his side.”

The clear jealousy and irritation from his target drew a throaty chuckle from the nymph. “He’d never pick you, so quit being catty.”

The growl from the other woman nearly vibrated the walls, something even the humans could probably hear if any had been around. “He’s my cousin. I wouldn’t stoop that low.”

Mammon bit back a laugh. Somehow, he doubted her protest would stand if Finn decided to choose an Alpha female. Hell, he was surprised the man didn’t already have one. Leading a pack as big as the O’Rourkes almost required it. That was a definite weakness he hadn’t known about.

The nymph sighed, seeming ready to head back to the party. “Look, quit complaining and come over tonight. I need to figure out what to wear. You know Charmeine will be dressed to the nines.”

His original target sounded less angry when she answered, “Fine. What time’s the party?”

“Seven. Charmeine and Ethan arrive tonight, though, so don’t be surprised if you’re summoned tomorrow morning for a greeting. I’m pretty sure all the O’Rourkes will be lined up at some point before the party begins.”

The darker woman nodded, still scowling. “All this for a woman he isn’t related to, mated to, or chasing after to get into bed. What is it with Charmeine Byrne that makes him obsess about her?”

Obsess? Mammon perked up, inching closer. Hungry for more information.

The nymph sounded almost sad when she answered. “They grew up together. I wouldn’t say he’s obsessed…protective for sure, though.”

“He has no business being protective—she may have been dropped off at their house when her parents died, but she’s not an O’Rourke, and therefore, deserves nothing from us. But don’t worry your pretty little head about me. I know my place, and I’ll be ready for whatever Finn needs.” The darker woman glanced in the mirror, running a finger along the edge of her bright red lips, catching Mammon’s eye as she did. Shit…time to go.

A group of human females turned down the hallway, giving Mammon the perfect chance to slip back into the bar area without a lot of fuss. He dropped his unused phone back into his pocket and headed straight for the door. Mission accomplished. Tomorrow night…a party. The entire pack in one place and most likely distracted by the visitor and the intrapack wrangling for status. A perfect predicament for someone in his position. He wasn’t fool enough to think he’d be able to sneak in, but he also wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass him by.

Besides, since when did a Dire Wolf sneak?

I
f Mammon’s
two-year stakeout of the O’Rourke pack had taught him anything, it was that the group tended to be a bit scattered outside of the leadership. Finn ran the overall business and had some of the toughest, most intimidating shifters in the area leading the individual crews. Those guys were smart and savvy, and they were always ready with a fist or a claw if need be. But the rest of the O’Rourke pack, the hangers-on, were far more relaxed. A good thing, since apparently when Finn O’Rourke hosted a party, he put those relaxed people at the huge double doors that graced his ridiculous colonial estate. Seriously, did the man need so many white columns?

“You’re here with who?”

Mammon gave the harried looking shewolf a gentle smile. “Colleen. I’m a guest of hers for the evening, but I ran a little late.”

The girl sighed and flipped through the papers in her folder again. Mammon didn’t know for sure if there
was
a Colleen in the pack, but with a surname like O’Rourke, the odds were pretty high.

“I don’t see any of the Colleens with a guest.”

Knew it.
“Really? Maybe she forgot to add me.” Mammon gave her a faux grimace, angling for a little sympathy. “Or she got mad about me being so late and figured this was a good way to punish me. She does seem to have a temper.”

The shewolf snorted a laugh. “Don’t they all?”

Mammon chuckled along, moving in for the kill. “A good woman deserves a man who is honest and respectful. This is all my fault for being late. Thank you for your time, but I think she’s probably trying to teach me a lesson. I’ll let you get back to work and try to call her later tonight instead. I’d hate to take up any more of your time.”

He turned to leave, risking everything on that one statement. Then the girl sighed.
Jackpot.

“No, no. No need for that. No sense kicking you out when you came all this way.”

Mammon had to bite back his smug grin to keep up his charade. “Thank you so much. I’d hate to end up in more of the doghouse than I already am.”

“Yes, well, depending on which Colleen… No. It doesn’t depend. They’re all a bit difficult.” The girl stepped out of the way with a smile. “Welcome to the home of Finn O’Rourke.”

“Thank you, miss.” Mammon walked past her, through a doorway and into the house of the man he saw as his enemy. No sneaking required.

The space was…not what he expected. With the way the man behaved in public, Mammon thought there would be opulence and sophistication in every corner. Instead, the large home seemed almost minimalist. Simple but modern, with clean, elegant lines as the overall design. Steel, leather, and wood dominated the space, not the Persian rugs and stuffy tufted furniture he’d assumed he’d find. Still ritzy, still way over what he’d buy for himself, just not as showy.

It wasn’t often a person surprised Mammon. Finn O’Rourke had just accomplished that with something as simple as his decorating style.

Mammon followed the noise of conversation and laughing down a hall leading toward the back of the house. No one bothered him; no one questioned his presence. No one paid attention to the fact that he was not an O’Rourke.

For about three minutes.

The first shifter who seemed to realize Mammon wasn’t supposed to be there was one of the dark-haired shewolves Finn brought with him to the club. She stared, her brow drawn down, her frown prominent. Mammon moved across the room, trying to stay casual in his pace, wanting to see a little bit more. There was no way he was going to get much intel tonight—that wasn’t even the point, really. He had two weeks to finish up his investigation before Luc pulled his ass out of town. It was time to go balls to the wall. And by that, he meant a full-on infiltration of the O’Rourke network. Starting with Finn’s personal residence.

The second person to seem to notice him was a big, burly shifter with dark sunglasses on his face, even in the house. Probably one of the crew leaders, a direct report to Finn. Not a good sign.

Mammon ducked behind a group of shifters arguing over something that sounded a lot like soccer and slipped into what appeared to be the room where all the action would occur. There was even a damned raised platform, like a stage or a dais. A little much, in his opinion, but exactly what he expected from a man like Finn O’Rourke.

The crew leader shifter followed Mammon, leading a group of similarly built men in dark suits. They spread out around the room then began to move closer, surrounding Mammon. Getting ready to snare a trap. Something he and his Dire brothers had done a million times themselves, though with a lot more finesse and disguise than Finn’s crew. If the rest of the Dires were there—

But they weren’t. Mammon was alone, a fact that amped up the tension already burning across his shoulders. With the beefheads caging him in, Mammon knew his time was almost up, but he had a point to make. One to the pack Alpha himself. A call to battle, if you would. So he stood his ground as the lights dimmed, and he waited for the show to start.

And start, it did.

To the cheers of his pack, Finn O’Rourke walked through a door at one side of the little stage. He stood tall and proud with a woman on his arm. Not a raven-haired beauty this time, though. This one had angel-light blond hair and a soft, fair complexion. The polar opposite of the dark-haired man at her side. Mammon didn’t pay her much attention, though, too focused on Finn. Hoping the man took notice of the fox in the henhouse before the guards finally kicked his ass out.

But it wasn’t Finn who noticed him first. It was the woman with him. The one the women at the bar had called Charmeine, he assumed. She caught his eye, and every atom of air evaporated, leaving him breathless in a sea of strangers who mattered not. There was no one in the room but her. Nothing that could call his attention away from her. There was only an angel of a woman standing next to a devil of a man.

Mate. Mine
.

Mammon’s wolf clawed at his mind to be let loose, to be allowed to shift and take control, but he fought the beast back. His mate, of all things. After centuries alone, after two of his Dire brothers had found mates in the last year, she stood before him. Watching him. Holding on to the arm of his enemy. A fact that caused his heart to drop into his shoes and his shoulders to sag under the weight of the truth.

The fates had a wickedly wrong sort of sense of humor.

“I’d like to welcome Charmeine Byrne to our Fort Worth home,” Finn called, as loud and proud as he’d ever been. But Charmeine wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at Mammon, a confused expression on her face. She knew, she felt it, but she had no idea who he was. And his time was up.

Two guards stepped between Mammon and the dais, between him and his mate, causing him to snarl in a decidedly dangerous way. Finn finally took notice of Mammon, and his smile fell into a look of utter rage.