“Those things have survived this long,” Dean said from their bed. He lay on his stomach, staring at Trigger with those gorgeous hazel eyes. “I don’t think they’ll be easily found.”

  “Why now?” Trigger grabbed a pillow from the top of the bed and tucked it under Dean’s head. His mate lay diagonal, and he knew moving had to be painful for him. “Why are they attacking now?”

  “Good question,” Clint said. “Something had to draw them out.”

  “We need to find out what that something was,” Trigger said. “There’s been too much death around here lately. I’m ready for some peace and quiet.”

  Clint grunted. “I’m starting to think peace isn’t in the cards.” He pushed away from the dresser he’d been leaning against and approached the bed. “Get some rest, Dean. We’ll handle this problem.”

  “I was ordered to fly back to Washington,” Dean said. The reminder made Trigger grind his back teeth. “I’m just trying to figure out how I’ll do that without Nolan.”

  “I told you, you’re not going,” Trigger snapped. He hadn’t meant to be so nasty to Dean, but the thought of his mate leaving tied his stomach into knots.

  “Hold up.” Clint studied Dean before he turned to Trigger. “With his back wounds, he could say they were attacked by bears. Nolan didn’t make it. Dean can arrange to have Nolan’s body transported. He can even say Blake ran into the same bad luck, that they’d found his body while in the mountains.”

  “I don’t like it,” Trigger said. “That means he has to fly back to Washington.”

  “Then go with him,” Clint said. “Unless you can think of a better way to get the heat off us?”

  A tiny part of Trigger was still afraid Dean would turn them all in, blow the cover story and tell the truth—or doctor it up so Blake and Nolan were killed by men instead of shifters.

  As if sensing his hesitation, Clint said, “It’ll get Dean away from the danger for a while, too.”

  “He’ll be going into a bigger danger,” Trigger pointed out. “What if no one believes his story?”

  “They’ll believe me,” Dean reassured.

  “How?” Trigger asked.

  “I’ll make them believe me.” Dean closed his eyes. Clint jerked his head, indicating that he wanted Trigger to follow him from the room.

  “I’ll be right back,” Trigger told Dean before going to the living room.

  “What gives?” Clint asked.

  Trigger told his brother about his fear that Dean may still turn on them. He felt as though he was betraying Dean, but the doubt held on tight as he glanced toward the hallway.

  “We’ll give it a few days,” Clint said. “I know that’s not much time for Dean to heal, but him going back with fresh wounds will validate his story. As far as your doubts, you’ll have to figure those out and make sure your mate doesn’t betray us.”

  How the hell was Trigger supposed to do that? He could ask Dean, but his mate could also lie to his face while plotting their downfall.

  A groan pulled Trigger’s attention away from Clint. He glanced back at the hallway to see Dean standing there, wincing, with pure rage in his hazel eyes.

  “Is that what you really think?” Dean asked. “That’ll I’ll hand the lot of you over as soon as I’m back to civilization?”

  “That’s my cue to leave.” Clint headed for the door. “Work this shit out,” he said before he closed it behind him.

  Trigger rubbed his jaw, not looking forward to this conversation. “You’ve been snarly since we first met, and how many times have you tried to escape? What else am I supposed to think?”

  Dean gave him an incredulous look. “Are you fucking serious? I was kidnapped and stuck in a sweltering cabin and you killed my partner.”

  “You should thank Lazarus for that favor,” Trigger snapped. “Nolan left you as bait while he saved his own ass.”

  “How do you know that?” Dean narrowed his eyes. “I never told anyone about our conversation.”

  “You just told me,” Trigger said. “And besides, if he hadn’t been trying to save his own ass, he would’ve freed you.”

  Dean clenched his jaw as he glared at the floor. “‘I’ll make sure you get a proper burial when we come back for your body. Those men killing a federal agent will ensure they get the death penalty.’ That’s what Nolan said to me before he took off.”

  If Trigger could bring Nolan back to life, he’d slowly torture the bastard, drawing out his death for months. “He doesn’t sound like a partner to me. But I am.” Trigger moved closer to Dean. “I’d never leave you in danger, or put you in it. I’d sacrifice myself if it meant you got to live.”

  Dean’s head snapped up and he studied Trigger. “Why? We barely know each other. Why would you do something like that?”

  Trigger groaned. “Did you not listen to me in the shower? Did I not tell you all the reasons?”

  When sweat gathered over Dean’s forehead, Trigger helped him back to bed. Dean went willingly and lay on his stomach. Trigger crawled in next to him and ran his hand over his mate’s arm.

  “I guess you have reason to doubt me.” Dean looked like a petulant child, his bottom lip slightly jutting out. “But lately, I think I’ve been more than amiable.”

  “Lately?” Trigger grinned. “Lately has been only a day, Dean. I think I need longer to be convinced that you’re not gonna run or turn us in.”

  With a sigh, Dean closed his eyes. “I’m not gonna turn you guys in.” He opened them and stared right at Trigger. “In truth, you’re more of a family to me than my own.”

  Damn if that confession didn’t pull at Trigger’s heart strings. He sounded as miserable as Trigger had felt growing up with a father like Clarence Rising. Trigger knew that tone too well.

  “As crazy as my family might seem, they’ll always have your back, and so will I, Dean. We’re loyal to a fault. Family means everything to us.”

  “I see that now.” Dean closed his eyes again. “I’m tired.” He yawned and slowly, as if every inch he moved was painful, scooted closer to Trigger.

  Trigger took that as a good sign but still hoped things didn’t turn disastrous when they reached Washington.

  Chapter Eight

  That was Trigger’s first ever airplane ride, and it would be his last—except for his flight home. The airport had been congested, with rude people in abundance, and everything cost three times as much as it did back home.

  Who in their right mind charged seven bucks for a bottle of fucking water?

  Security devices were everywhere. Trigger half expected to be beamed up to a spaceship when he stepped into the body scanner. He felt a bit violated when he stepped to the other side, and an overwhelming urge to shower struck him.

  The plane ride itself had been unsettling. He’d spent most of it with his fingers dug deeply into the armrests. If a person didn’t have wings, they shouldn’t be in the air, he’d thought when the plane taxied down the runway and climbed into the clouds.

  He never should have let his feet leave the ground. But it was too late now, and Trigger just had to suck it up. He supposed things could be worse. He could be sitting in the back of the plane, which seemed as crowded as a sardine can.

  At least they’d flown first class, which had plenty of legroom and he wasn’t squished between strangers. By the time they landed, Trigger was ready to shoot something—especially when people bumped into him as they got off the plane.

  He’d taken his time, pulling his bag from the overhead bin. The crew had let the first-class people had been let off first, but apparently, he’d been too slow. The passengers behind him became inpatient, and Trigger had to stop himself from knocking a few humans out.

  Dean seemed oblivious to it all, as though this was a normal part of his world. He moved in slow strides thanks to his back injury while Trigger made sure no one ran into his mate as they entered the terminal.

  Trigger had never been happier than when they exited the airport. But his happiness died quickly when he looked around at the hustle and bustle of Washington, DC.

  He was so ready to get back to the mountains and glad he’d never had even an ounce of desire to live the city life. He loved his comforts, but he also loved nature and always felt at one with it. This concrete jungle made him want to scream his fool head off.

  The smell alone had him crinkling his nose. Exhaust fumes choked the air, and cars, trucks, buses, and motorcycles clogged the streets. People crossed in the middle of the street, uncaring of oncoming traffic, as if they’d been born with a bumper on their asses.

  “You gonna be okay?” Dean eyed him as they rode to Pennsylvania Avenue. As they passed over the Potomac River, Trigger closed his eyes as a throbbing headache beat at the back of his skull.

  “Just not used to all this.” A car followed behind them carrying Nolan’s body. Trigger and his brothers had unearthed the agent before taking him and Blake’s body down the mountains.

  Deputy Howell hadn’t seemed too broken up that Blake had been killed by a bear. He’d said he’d write up the report and take care of things on his end.

  Trigger had expected more of a fuss, but Blake didn’t seem to have been too well liked in Grizzly Ridge for anyone to be up in arms about his death—except Matt, and Trigger wasn’t going there.

  When Trigger looked out the back window, he saw that the car behind them had turned off, taking another route. Instead of going to the J. Edgar Hoover Building, their car pulled in front of the hotel where Dean had made reservations.

  Trigger had tried to insist they stay at Dean’s apartment, but his mate wouldn’t budge.

  “I still don’t like you going alone.” Trigger sat in the backseat, wavering. He didn’t want Dean to face this fiasco on his own.

  “Afraid I’ll turn on you?”

  Damn if his mate couldn’t hold a grudge. “No, I don’t want my—” Trigger stared at the back of the driver’s head “—boyfriend who is in that condition to be alone.”

  “I’ve managed for twenty-five years, Trigger. I think I can handle being away from you for a few hours.” Dean made a shooing motion with his hands. “The sooner I get this over with, the sooner I can get back to you.”

  Trigger didn’t like it one bit, but he got out of the car. He leaned down, gazing at Dean. “Get your ass back to me, understand?”

  “Loud and clear.” To Trigger’s surprise, Dean leaned up and kissed him. Then he closed the door and the car was off, leaving Trigger standing at the curb.

  * * * *

  Trigger might’ve hated the city, but the hotel room was on point. He rummaged through the small refrigerator and grabbed the tiny bottles of liquor, ate all the snacks, and sat on a mattress that felt like clouds. But he couldn’t sit still, not when Dean was out there trying to clean up what the shifters had done.

  He paced to the window and stood there, staring at the vast number of trees. They reminded him of home, and the center of Trigger’s chest twitched. What if, now that Dean was back in the city, he didn’t want to leave his home? Could Trigger relocate here? He knew that would never be a choice since Dean was carrying his child, but the thought of waking up every morning to the sound of traffic, of not being able to walk in the forest whenever he stepped out his door was enough to depress the shit out of him.

  After hours of sitting in the hotel room, ready to pull his hair out, Dean walked in, closing the door behind him. He looked weary as he dropped onto the bed.

  “How’d it go?” Trigger had ordered room service earlier. He grabbed the bottle of water and poured some in a glass for Dean.

  His mate took it and swallowed half the glass before he eyed the leftover food on the table. “I’m jobless, and the higher-ups want an internal investigation, which will take months.”

  Trigger’s heart sank. “We can’t stay here for months, Dean. You’re gonna give birth in ten weeks. In two weeks you’ll start showing.”

  “They’re waiting for the coroner’s report. If what I claimed can be backed up by the ME, then I’m off the hook. They say my report has too many questions and not enough answers.”

  Trigger was surprised they’d let Dean walk out of there. “So now what?”

  “So now I find a way back to the mountains without using a plane, train, or renting a car in my name. They’ll be able to track me if I do. I’ll have to fall off the grid, Trigger. But not before I go home and get some clothes.”

  “Wait.” Trigger grabbed his arm. “You’re willing to give everything up to be with me?” He wasn’t sure what to say after that.

  Dean should have looked scared, disappointed, or even mad, but when he looked at Trigger with those gorgeous hazel eyes, there was peace in them. “What was that you said to me in the shower?” he asked. Dean glanced once again at the half-eaten tray of food. “Right back at you.”

  Trigger chuckled. “You can’t remember it all, can you?”

  “Can you?” Dean asked. “I just know I don’t want to be anywhere without you. You’re my family now, and if I really do have a bun in the oven, you’re not getting away from me that easily.”

  Trigger waved a hand toward the table. “Go ahead and finish it off.”

  Dean took a seat and polished off the steak and mashed potatoes. He dug into the cheesecake, eating every crumb. “We need to get going.” He looked at the fridge. “You know you have to pay for everything you took out of there.”

  Trigger glanced at the trash where six tiny bottles of liquor and about five candy wrappers lay. “They’re gonna charge me ten dollars a snack, aren’t they?”

  Dean rolled his eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Trigger checked them out, then hailed a taxi. When they reached Dean’s apartment, he was amazed at how empty it felt. Nothing in it made the place homey or personal. It had no pictures on the wall, no plants, and very few furnishings.

  Dean packed a duffel bag, then headed to the door. He set the keys on the table and looked around. “I’ll call the landlord and tell him where the keys are.”

  As much as Trigger didn’t want to do it, he hotwired a car from the apartment parking lot and headed southwest. They’d have to pick up another car along the way, but it was the only way to get home without being tracked. If they tied him to Dean in anyway, a rental would lead the FBI back to the mountains. Trigger wanted their trail to end at Dean’s apartment.

  He called Clint and made plans to meet his brother halfway so if someone got smart and tracked the stolen cars, they wouldn’t lead anyone back to him.

  With pit stops for eating, resting, and picking up another vehicle, it took them eight hours to meet Clint, and another eight to get home. Trigger had never been so glad to see the mountains in the distance or to walk through his kitchen door.

  As soon as Dean entered the house, he ran straight for the bathroom and got sick. Clint chuckled. “I remember when Dane went through that. Feed him crackers.”

  Trigger closed the door after Clint left, thought about the creatures that were still out there, and decided, for the first time ever, to lock his doors and windows.

  * * * *

  Dean had been on the mountains for five weeks now. If he’d had any lingering doubts about Trigger’s claim that he was pregnant, they dissolved when he felt a flutter in his stomach. They also disappeared as he watched Benny and Elijah’s stomachs swell, too.

  It might be impossible, but the proof stared at him in the mirror as he shaved. It was nearing September and the heat was still killing Dean. Their house was air-conditioned, but Dean sweated as if he’d run miles whenever he walked out the door. He was used to living in the city, where AC was abundant. Dean had rarely spent time outside. He avoided it whenever he could, but there was no avoiding it here.

  “How about we go swimming in the lake today?” he called to Trigger, who was getting dressed in their bedroom. Dean cleaned his razor in the running water and set it aside, then grabbed a wet towel and cleaned his face.

  Trigger stepped into the bathroom, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. Dean still couldn’t get over how handsome he was. Trigger was also turning out to be the sweetest guy. “I was actually thinking of taking you into Howling Cavern for lunch.” He turned and placed his splayed hand over Dean’s stomach. “You know, before you start showing and you’re stuck just hanging around here.”

  The thought of getting out, of having lunch like normal people made Dean grin. “Do they have anyplace with a patio?”

  “Grange’s Bar and Grill has outside seating. There’s an awning over the patio, but you can still enjoy the fresh air.” Trigger placed his hand on Dean’s lower back, kissing his neck. “I want to show you that life here is worth your while. I know you gave up a lot, for me, for my family, but I also want you to be happy.”

  For the first time in Dean’s life, he could honestly say he was. The fact he finally had a change of clothes was a huge help. Going to Washington while wearing Trigger’s ill-fitting clothes had put him in a sour mood. But now he had his khaki shorts and sleeves T-shirts and was ready for the balmy weather. “Aside from you knocking me up and me waking every morning getting sick, I am happy.”

  “The morning sickness should pass soon.”

  “But I’ll still have a wrecked body when this is over. I’ll need to get some workout clothes, ’cause once I pop this cub out, I’m getting back into shape.” Dean had had a membership at the local gym back home, and he loved how in-shape his body was. The thought of a flabby stomach made him shiver.

  Trigger squeezed his ass. “We’ll work out together.”

  “Now that’s a plan.” Dean exited the bathroom, threw his shorts on, and slipped his feet into comfy navy blue leather boat shoes. “How about we leave now and have brunch?” he called from the bedroom. He’d definitely need to work out considering how voracious his appetite had become.

  He wouldn’t doubt he’d gained five pounds since being here. The fact his shorts were a little snug further validated his assumption. He’d been the same size since high school, never gaining or losing an ounce. Dean wanted to whine when the snap on his shorts popped.