Free Moves Like Jagger (Wolf Mates Book 4) by Dakota Cassidy

garlic reaching her nose, making her stomach grumble.
    Scar roused, removing himself with great care from the pile of sleeping cats to come sit at her feet, his droopy eyes assessing her. Viv smiled down at him. “I see you survived the cat-pocalypse, huh, buddy? You’re the best dog ever, you know that, right?”
    Scar rumbled his answer before flopping down on the small slice of rug in front of the sink as though he’d just done a triathlon.
    Jagger stuck his head inside the door, his eyes grim from beneath the rim of his red knit hat. “We’ve got an emergency. Max just called. You in?”
    Her stomach jumped with a nervous jolt as she turned the sauce off. “Always. You think Scar will be okay here with the boys?”
    “Scar would be okay with Satan. C’mon, we have to hurry.”
    Reaching down, Viv gave Scar a quick scratch on the ears before rushing out the door behind Jagger.
    As she climbed into the van, she prayed no more animals had been injured.
    * * * *
    Max paced the floor of the woods, his booted feet kicking up the freshly fallen snow. “Who the hell is doing this and why? And why can’t I get a scent from this?” he asked Jagger, his eyes flashing with anger.
    Viv jammed her hands inside her jacket, trying not to look in the direction of the pile of mutilated rabbits as Jagger finished looking over the lone bunny who’d miraculously survived.
    They’d arrived to find Max and his brother Derrick waiting for them on the outskirts of Derrick’s property to avoid alerting Hector. They’d taken them deep into the woods where the rabbits were killed.
    To their surprise, one rabbit, buried under a lump of fellow dead rabbits, had moved, squeaking weakly. Jagger and Viv had fallen to their knees and begun pinpointing the squeaks until they found him.
    He was now tucked inside Jagger’s jacket, snuggled with a heat pack he’d brought for her hands, mostly shaken up more than anything else.
    “Hector’s going to freak if he sees this,” Derrick commented, his strong jaw rigid under the half moon. “I need to bury them before he comes out here again. I’m going to go get a shovel.” As he passed her, he squeezed her shoulder. “Good seeing you, Viv. Martine said if you need a hand shifting, give her a call. She’s happy to help.”
    Viv nodded, her throat tight. “I’ll do that. Thank her for me, would you?”
    “Were these part of Hector’s crew?” Jagger asked.
    Max sighed. “No. Thank Christ. He’s going to be upset enough as it is.”
    Jagger planted his hands on his hips. “I don’t get why I’m not getting a distinct scent, either.”
    Max rolled his shoulders before crossing his arms over his big chest. “Something has to be done. Maybe we patrol the woods at night? I don’t know, but I won’t have this, and when I catch the son of a bitch, I’m going to kill him myself.” He hissed the words, his face a mask of anger.
    Max was usually pretty easygoing, a fair pack leader according to anyone who knew him, but he wasn’t afraid to dole out a harsh punishment if the crime warranted one. To see him this angry only made Viv that much more aware of how lucky she was to live in a place where her shifting was protected.
    “It’s pretty clear these bodies are fairly fresh. So whomever or whatever is responsible has some appetite. No one heard anything or saw anything?”
    Max shook his head. “Not a damn thing. JC and I were decorating the tree, and before I say this, I love my wife, and yes, I’m a werewolf with keen hearing. But no one can hear anything over JC’s screeching…er, singing . And my parents are still in the honeymoon phase of their reunion, if that can get any more embarrassing to admit. So they were busy .”
    Max’s parents, Faith and Brock, had been apart for several years due to a curse and Brock’s imprisonment. Viv hadn’t asked JC the details so as not to pry, but Brock Adams’s homecoming had been a huge celebration, followed by them reaffirming their