Page 39 of Broken

Boomer went on, “We also brought whiskey.” Cole noted it was some of the nice stuff from their cabin, which meant Boomer was feeling sorry for him. And also that he agreed with Cole’s assessment—he was going to need it.

“Beer too,” Boomer said, unpacking several sixpacks. “For non-emergency drinking.”

There was also a box of Breanna’s chocolate chip cookies. And finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a baggie. “TV streaming stick and remote,” he said. “I brought you our backup, because I’m the best brother ever. Do you need me to set it up for you? Because I know you’re a tech loser.”

Cole rolled his eyes. So he didn’t like a lot of technology with his entertainment. He liked things simple.

“I know you want to,” he said. “Knock yourself out.”

“He’s only doing that so I’m the one who has to put the sheets on the mattress,” Karisma said. “I brought you the comfy ones. You’re welcome.”

“Make sure the blood on the mattress is dry first,” he said.

She made a face at him, and then made up his bed. With pink flannel Barbie sheets. Madison, giggling, helped her. Boomer plugged in the streaming stick and connected it to the Wi-Fi, Cole picked up the coffee table, and Sanchez stood in the corner, alternating between watching Madison and glaring at Ireland, as if it were Madison she’d attacked.

Cole hoped the hectic pink and vivid pictures of toys on the sheets didn’t send his brain over the edge. Sometimes shit like that could do that to him.

Too much visual input, the military Special Ops therapist had said. The one time he saw her, before he deserted and came here, to kill people on behalf of the good guys instead of the government.

When they were all done domesticating the place, Boomer shooed them out the door, telling everyone that Cole and Ireland needed to be alone, so they could have kinky wolf sex.

“Shut up,” Cole said. “You’re a dick.”

“Always.”

“Hold up,” Sanchez said. “I need to get a couple of things straight with your girlfriend first.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Cole repeated.

Sanchez ignored that. “Can she understand me?”

“Like I know?”

Sanchez growled, then turned to Ireland, who was growling back. “Okay, pay attention,” he said. He gestured towards Madison. “This is my mate. She’s a rabbit shifter.”

Ireland turned her head toward Madison and sniffed, so she must be understanding something. She licked her chops.

“Oh, fuck no,” Sanchez said. “You listen to me, and listen good.” His alpha presence was strong—strong enough to lead a pack, if he wanted to. Luckily he didn’t, because he was a little bit psycho. But it was enough to get Ireland’s attention.

He said fiercely, “Nobody in this pack touches Madison. Nobody tries to eat her, nobody chases her, nobody even looks funny at her, or I will break their neck with my bare hands. Got it?”

She growled at him, low in her throat, and took a step forward.

Cole put his hand on her neck. “He’s serious,” he told her. “He’ll do it. And also, Madison is a friend, and we don’t eat our friends.”

Karisma snickered, and Boomer said, “Get your mind out of the gutter, woman.”

Sanchez finished, “So, remember her scent and leave her alone.”

Ireland’s ears were still back, and the growl was still there, but she took another sniff at Madison and then shook herself.

“She’s cool,” Cole said. He could feel her acquiescence. “Now you leave her alone. Everyone out—she needs to rest.”

And he needed to clear his head.

But Sanchez, the worrywart, wasn’t done yet. He stopped on the porch, with Cole standing in the doorway. Boomer and Karisma stopped too.

Sanchez said, “It was a mistake to bring her here.”