Free Jacks, Marcy - The Hunter's Omega Mate [DeWitt's Pack 2] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) by Marcy Jacks Page B

was a trick most hunters would do well to learn if they wanted to survive in this business longer than three weeks. The ability to calmly, and quietly, take in the oxygen they needed, even when the heart pumped with adrenaline. Not an easy task at all.
    The others breathed so loud, especially the one with the cold, that if he had a sniper rifle he could take them out in the dark if he wanted
    to.
    Unprofessional bastards, the whole stinkin’ lot of them. That little prick Isaac Foster especially, and Marty couldn’t wait to stick his knife in that fucker’s chest.

    78                            Marcy Jacks
    If the tracks they’d followed were right, he and that werewolf he’d taken should be here. Somewhere within one of those shitty looking houses.
    They were careful to stay in ahead of the wind. After figuring out just which direct the tracks were going, Marty had ordered his men to go on ahead, scout the area, and when they came back with the estimate of where exactly the pack had been hiding, Marty checked the wind and they took the long way around to make sure no werewolves would sniff them out when they came upon them.
    If some of them went sniffing around in the area where Dale and the other men had been, that was fine, they would expect the hunters to be coming from the southern direction, not the  north.
    Wolves were always so stupid.
    “Doesn’t look like anyone’s here,” Dale muttered, his hands shaking from the excitement around his rifle.
    Hunting down two packs in two days. The money they could get from selling the pelts of all those wolves would damn near see them through the winter, and Marty had earned a little vacation.
    He could rent a warm, cozy little cabin for the Christmas holiday, invite his daughters up, and rest his feet over a wolf-skin rug by the fire.
    That sounded so nice.
    “They’re in there,” Marty said. “I can see a bunch of them through
    the windows.”
    “What are they all doing inside?” one of the hired hands asked.  “Thought wolves preferred it outside.”
    “Maybe they’re eating dinner.” With the apparent threat of any  wolf hearing it gone, Marty cocked his weapon. It made a satisfying  click as it spat out an empty shell.
    “I don’t like it,” said another hand.
    “You want to get paid or not?” Marty hissed. “The money’s in  their pelts. We get no pelts to sell, we get no money, end of story.”
    His bones were aching much too hard for him to be having these

    The Hunter’s Omega Mate                      79

    arguments, and for the first time in a long time, the promise of such a  large reward was making him eager to get started as well. Almost as  eager as Dale, who cocked his own weapon.
    “I could use a new truck,” he said, grinning.
    Marty turned to address the three hands. “We’ll use the tear gas.  Get out your masks. We’ll smoke ’em out and pick ’em off before  they even know what hit ’em.”
    Isaac’s voice answered him from above. “That’s usually how you
    do  it, isn’t it?”
    The sudden fear of a trap came on him too late before a heavy weight smashed down onto his back. He screamed loud, and so did  Dale and his three hands as more alpha wolves came down on them from the trees like falling fucking apples.
    Marty heard the crunch in his shoulder, and the pain was damn near blinding.
    “Isaac!” he shrieked, just to keep himself from screaming in pain.  “You fucking cocksucking traitor!”
    Isaac took him by the back of his jacket and yanked him up, completely oblivious to  the pain he was causing him. “You’re not taking this pack,” he hissed in his ear.
    Marty tried to spit in his face, but his awkward, twisted position, made things difficult, and he missed.
    One look and he could see that Dale and one of the hired hands
    were  already dead. Maybe their necks had been broken from having  two hundred pounds of muscled werewolf fall on top of them,