Fangs of Anarchy - Forbidden Alpha (Part 3) Were in the World is Gannon Dodd?: A Werewolf Vampire Shifter Romance by Dakota Cassidy

Chapter Eleven
    “Where’s Dodd, Twink?” Irish asked, pulling his sunglasses off so Twink could see he meant business as he pushed his way through the brush littering the front of their property.
    Twink spat some chew on the ground just outside the cabin he and Courtland’s crew called home. “He ain’t here right now. ”
    “And when will he be here? He knew I was coming by today. I don’t like to be kept waiting, Twink. We have shit to discuss.” Like whether Courtland was going to cut off their deliveries completely or if they’d continue to do business as usual in the absen ce of Gannon.
    His clan needed that synthetic blood supply. In fact, they’d need a fresh supply soon. If Courtland decided to be a dick about it and keep them from their normal deliveries, they were screwed.
    If he could just find out who was producing it, maybe woo whomever it was to produce it for him rather than on the black market, he’d be golden, and he’d flip Dodd and his crew the damn finger. But Gannon had held the key to that information. Now he wanted to know if Courtland was privy to the supplier.
    Hindsight and Liam said he’d gone too far last night by messing with Courtland, and even though he’d tried to rationalize what he’d done with his role as peacemaker, he knew he’d poked the bear.
    He also knew poking the bear was dangerous, but it was Claire he’d poked for, and if blurring the lines of his role in town was what he had to do to look out for her, he’d do it again.
    Twink shrugged his wide shoulders, rolling his thick tongue over his gums. “Hell if I know. Said he had shit to do in town.”
    Irish’s hand snaked out, grabbing Twink’s worn vest, pulling him in close. Twink was hiding something—likely, that something had to do with Claire. He smelled it. “What shit?”
    Rosy erupted from the cabin door, a shotgun cocked and aimed at him, his face red and b loated.
    Irish clucked his tongue and wiggled his finger. “Rosy, have you learned nothing in our time as neighbors? I’m a vampire. You can’t shoot me because I’m already dead,” he said, shoving Twink out of the way and yanking the shotgun from Rosy’s grip. “When will you learn the ways of the vampire, Rosy? It hurts that you don’t even care enough to put some effort into our relationship.”
    Rosy shuffled his feet from side to side, his left eye twitching nervously. “Courtland ain’t here. You heard Twink,” he said with lightning speed, his quick words followed by small clouds of condensation. “Now get the fuck outta here.”
    Irish eyed the gun, running his gloved hand over it, stroking it as though it were a beloved pet. “Where is he, Rosy? You’d better tell me o r I’m gonna root around in that squirrely head of yours to find out. You don’t want me walking all over your brain matter, do you? I hear it’s damn uncomfortable.”
    Rosy raised a pudgy finger, waving it in the air at Irish as he skittered across the wide porch flanking the cabin in a two-legged crab-like walk. “You stay out of my head, you flippy bloodsucker! That shit ain’t right! You just stay out, Irish! Stay out, stay out, stay out !” he screeched, planting his hands over his ears.
    The moment Rosy protested was the moment in which Irish slipped into his brain. Sadly, Rosy would never understand that not wanting him in his head was the very reason Irish knew he needed to poke around. It was a no-no most of the time, but if he was going to keep Claire safe, he needed to know what Courtland was up to.
    And what he found inside Rosy’s head had him launching the shotgun back at the man’s feet as he ran for his bike. He gunned the engine, tearing out of the thicket of trees and skidd ing onto the ice-covered road.
    * * *
    Claire pounded the icy water, unable to focus enough to shift her way out of this. Would shifting even help? She was a strong swimmer, both in shifter and human form, but the water was so damn cold.
    The salty water slap ped