Chapter 9: The Rogue Leader

The river scouts caught him in under an hour.

They didn't have to chase him far.

He stopped running at the border stones and sat down on one, with his hands up.

"I want to talk to the golden-eyed one," he called. "I've got something to sell."

Bram brought him back to the boathouse and tied him to a post.

I wasn't supposed to be there.

I stood in the doorway anyway, in a borrowed jacket, with my splinted hand against my chest.

The man looked about forty.

He had a lean, sunburned face and a scar through his upper lip.

He sat in the straw.

"There she is," he said, and smiled.

It was not a nice smile.

"Say anything else to her," Bram said, "and I'll put you in the river."

"Easy, Alpha. I'm a rogue, not a fool."

The man looked at me.

"I'm the one who gave the order, ma'am, in case you were wondering. The other five just did the throwing."

My stomach turned over.

"Why would you tell us that?" I said.

"Because the lady who paid me stopped answering her phone."

He shrugged.

"She owes me the second half. I figure a woman who's alive is worth more to somebody than a dead one."

"Who paid you?"

"The little omega. Rainey."

He said it lightly.

"Felicity. She found us a month ago at a motel outside Missoula. Forty thousand, half up front. She picked the day and the place."

"She picked the falls."

"She picked the ledge. She walked the trail herself two weeks before to count the steps."

The scar on his lip pulled.

"She wanted a rope point above it, so the Alpha could get down to them quick. That was important to her."

I felt Bram turn his head toward me.

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