by Kathy Lyon
“He’s a cop. We have to help him.”
She made it to Kennedy’s side and was close enough to see that he was breathing. Still alive, so that was good, but he was also bleeding sluggishly from the two holes in his chest.
“He’s a bear,” Brady said, his tone stubborn. “Wolf said to kill any of them that we can corner in secret.”
Frankie’s head snapped up. Emory Wolf was her father and the alpha in the pack. He couldn’t possibly have given so stupid an order. “He did not.”
Brady’s expression didn’t waver. “He did.”
Damn it. Her father had gone off the deep end then. She didn’t want to believe it, but it had happened. A kill order on all bears was insane. Why go to war with The Griz? This had her brother Raoul’s fingers all over it, but what the hell had happened to her father that he’d gone along with it?
She sat back on her haunches, pretending to obey her father’s orders. In truth, she was trying to buy time to reason with Brady. She had to get him on her side so he would tell her where the serum stash was and she could end this nightmare forever. But she couldn’t do that while appearing to help the bear.
“He’s a cop,” she said as she looked at Brady. “We don’t hurt cops, remember?”
Brady winced. “Your father won’t see it that way, and you know it.”
A loyalist. She knew as much. Wolves were pack creatures and they remained loyal to a fault. Fact is, once a werewolf heard a direct order from his alpha, he or she was genetically conditioned to carry it out. Brady wasn’t a killer, but once her father had ordered him to kill bears, his instinct drove him to do exactly that. It was a measure of his humanity that he kept himself from finishing the job.
“Okay,” she said. “We need to talk, but we can’t do it here. Let me take care of this, and we’ll meet—”
“I can’t talk to you. Raoul’s orders. If he even smells you on me, he’ll kill me.”
Shit, shit, shit. Brady was her only chance to find out where her brother kept the serum supply. “I can call you.”
“He’s got bugs on our phones. He said so.”
And her brother probably did. Then she hit on an idea. “Noelle. You can talk to Noelle, right?”
“’Course. She’s my wife’s sister.”
“Then I’ll send her. Tonight.” She looked to the dark tunnel behind her. “I got people coming,” she lied. “You don’t want to be here when they show up.”
His eyes widened. “What people?”
“Cleanup crew.” She looked down at the cop. “We’ll take care of this.”
Brady shook his head. “I did it.” His gaze cut to Jayce. “I need to face the consequences.”
Well, that was decent of him especially since her father was going to skewer him—literally—for killing a pack mate.
“Don’t be an idiot,” she said. “Jayce was killed by the grizzly. You weren’t anywhere near.” Then she pretended to hear a noise behind her. “They’re coming,” she lied. “Go! I’ll finish him off.”
He wavered for a moment, then gave in. With a quick nod, he hurried over to the downed jug of goo, grabbed it, and then ran off into the dark tunnel. Which left her alone with the bear.
Finally! Now it was time to save the cop.
“Okay, Detective Kennedy—”
He attacked.
Chapter 3
Ryan surged forward, and the woman cried out in surprise as he tried to press his arm against her throat. His plan was to choke her until she was unconscious, then escape.
But he didn’t have the dexterity and pain ate at his control. Plus, she wasn’t just lying still. She fought him, her body slippery as she wriggled. Her knee came up hard between his thighs, but he barely noticed amid his other problems. His vision was going, which meant significant blood loss. Every breath was agony and his arms wouldn’t work right.
“Trying. To help!” Her words were sharp explosions of sound right by his ear.
He didn’t believe her, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t incapacitate her, which meant his only hope was in running before her friends arrived.
“Shift!” she gasped, clearly struggling beneath his weight. “Human!”
It was the right move. If he shifted human, then his wounds would heal. That would stop the blood loss, but he’d be running around with two bullets in his chest. That was a recipe for disaster, but a later kind of problem. He’d also lose his fighting advantage, which was why she wanted him to do it. Much easier to kill a man than a grizzly.
“Hold. In between,” she gasped. “Bullets. Will fall.”
He didn’t want to hear her. His attention was on forcing his body to do what he wanted despite the pain. But her voice triggered a softness inside him. He didn’t have the time to understand the reason; he only knew that the notes of her voice became a kind of touchstone to safety. Some part of him knew this woman and admired her. So her words filtered in, and he chose to listen.
“Hold in between,” she repeated, and he tried.
Shifting to human was a skill learned on the first shift. Not every shifter managed it, and he’d had more than the usual difficulties given that he hadn’t had a clue what he was. But he had years of experience now, so this part was easy. He pictured in his mind exactly who he was. Well, more like an idealized version of who he wanted to be: strong, powerful, and a master of his fate. The physicality of that was clear. After all, he’d been studying bodybuilder magazines since he was ten.
He held that image now. Sculpted muscles, hard jaw, and power in every line of his body. Then he changed into exactly what he saw.
“Go slow!”
Her words caught him just at the moment of transition. Weird since he wasn’t even sure he had ears to hear, but he knew her meaning. He tried to reach for the in-between state, that place where his body was energy, neither bear nor man. Normally, the transition lasted a second at most, and he’d worked hard to shorten that time. But this time he stretched it out.
He held himself in the in-between as long as he could. A second? More? How long would it take gravity to pull the bullets out of him?
He solidified as a man. No longer buried in pain, his mind grabbed on to details. Sounds first. Her breath against his ear, his own heartbeat, then hers. A wave of weakness hit him, a sure sign that he’d been shifting too much lately. And then another nearly buried him, but he pushed it aside and focused on something else. A smell hit him, hard and nauseating. Blood. His blood on her body. She was covered in it.
His bear surged forward, dark and ugly. It was pure instinct and he didn’t have the energy to hold back the animal drive when it was set on survival. It believed she was a threat, and the most he could do was keep it from killing her. He had to subdue her so his bear would feel safe. And then he could figure out his next step.
He felt her move, shoving against him. His muscles contracted, breath flowed in, and then—finally—his vision solidified. He saw her clearly. Bright green eyes, light brown curls shorn short, and clear skin except for a mole high on her left cheek just to the outside of her eye. It looked like a brown teardrop on a face that otherwise would be deemed perfect. Damn it, he was sure he knew her!
The mole told him she wasn’t a shifter. She might be related to one since she was obviously in on the shifter secret. But those who could change into an animal rarely came back to human with moles. It didn’t help him place her identity, but it meant he could beat her man against woman.
He attacked. His rational mind said she was a friend, but instinct burned hot and his bear felt very vulnerable.
He caught her by surprise, and though his hand slid on her wet skin, he was able to grab hold. But he wasn’t able to keep it as she jerked her elbow forward, missing his nose, but nailing his forearm. He lost his grip, then rolled with the movement to brace himself on the ground. Then he shoved hard, pushing himself upright. A split second later, he had his feet under him, but she was standing as well. A quick scan of the sewer told him no one was n
ear, though his nose told him there was a hybrid close. The things smelled worse than the sewer, which was saying something. But the best news came when he saw two bullets on the ground.
His bullets. The ones that had been shot into his grizzly body were now on the bloody floor. Which meant no lead inside his human body.
Hallelu—
She hit him broadside with a kick faster than should be possible for a normal human. His breath gusted out of him, but he was already countering the move with one of his own. She blocked it—damn she was really fast—but he followed up with more. Blow after blow, she kept countering his punches. Part of him struggled to think. Why was she here? Did he know her? But he was at the end of his strength with nothing but animal instinct keeping him upright. Fortunately, this fight wouldn’t last long. She didn’t have the strength to keep up the fight. Not when every one of his blows had more weight behind it. She could block him, but his power was taking a toll on her.
She started to visibly flag. Her blocks were slower, her body collapsed more with every impact. Just a couple more hits and he’d be able to pin and handcuff her. Then he could think. He redoubled his efforts, trying to end this quickly. There were others coming. She’d said so, but his peripheral vision told him they were alone for now.
Last hit and she should go down. He put everything he had into it, swinging with all his might.
And caught air.
What?
She’d been fooling him, pretending to tire. He watched in horrified shock as she zipped out from under his swing, pivoted, and slammed him in the back when he was off balance. She didn’t need power to topple him. He was doing that all by himself as his momentum kept him driving forward and down.
He hit the tunnel’s concrete hard enough to see stars. And then she was on him, pinning his back with her knee as she slid a very sharp knife to his throat.
“Move and you’re dead,” she said, her voice a low growl.
He wasn’t moving. And though his animal was screaming for him to fight, he hadn’t the strength. Only a dull pounding in his head as he sucked air, and the gray fog of confusion.
“Fucking grizzlies never think,” she said. “I was trying to help you.”
Bullshit. That response was pure instinct. He’d learned not to trust anyone.
“Are you sane?” she pressed. “How much tap water did you drink?”
Yes and none. But he hadn’t the breath to respond.
“Damn it, Kennedy. You’re supposed to be one of the smart ones.” She shoved her knee into him hard, and he grunted from the sudden pressure. “I need you to get a message to your alpha.”
It took a moment for her words to penetrate. His rational mind was holding on by a thread. Fortunately, she didn’t need his response to keep talking, and he used her voice to keep himself conscious. There was something about her voice…
“There’s a kill order on bears, but only if you’re caught alone. Tell your people to stay together until this is over. Nobody alone.”
He was alone, and she wasn’t slicing his throat. “Who…are you?”
“Somebody who is trying to help.” She eased up on his back. “You were supposed to figure that out by now.”
He had to buy time until he could think. Keep her talking until he figured out who she was. “Anonymous tips are dangerous,” he mumbled.
She straightened off his back. He forced himself to get up, recruiting all his focus to shove onto all fours then scramble awkwardly to his feet. His head was pounding, his body weak, and he kept expecting to be clocked in the back of the head. He wasn’t. She even stepped back enough to give him room, but when he finally turned to look her in the eye, he saw that she was as wary as he was.
“Well,” she drawled, “I can see that you haven’t been drinking the water. You look like shit.”
That’s what came from being shot and pushing how often he shifted. He’d gone grizzly so much in the last week, it was a personal record. “You look familiar,” he said.
She ducked her chin. “I just have one of those faces.” She sounded mournful about that, but he didn’t believe it for a second. She was trying to hide who she was, and that made him want to pay ten times more attention.
Her face was sweet looking. Very girl-next-door, but with a hard edge to go with her ruler-straight nose. In fact, the only softness in her face was her full lips, which she pressed tightly closed as if holding back her words. And now that he looked at her closely, her entire body seemed compressed, like a super ball just before the bounce. So much restrained energy. It made him want to poke her just to see how big the explosion would be.
“Whoa there,” she said as she abruptly gripped his arm.
He frowned down at her relatively small hands, wondering what she was talking about. But then a wave of dizziness hit, and he had to grab her arm just to keep upright.
“Great,” she said as she guided him to lean against the wall. “I get the one shifter in all of Detroit who is about to pass out.”
“I’m fine,” he said, but the words came out slurred. Oh hell. He really was fucked up.
“And I’m Annie Oakley. Come on. Let’s get you topside.”
Sounded like a great idea to him, except when he took a step, it was all he could do to keep from tipping over. She caught him with her shoulder, planting it square into his chest. He grunted as she connected, but he was able to take a few more steps this way.
Then he inhaled. Oh hell. He could smell it clear as day. “Hybrid. Coming.”
She looked at him, and her expression shut down even more. “This way.”
He didn’t bother nodding. It took too much energy away from putting one foot in front of the other.
Chapter 4
Are you crazy?”
Yes, she was, Francesca thought as she stood outside her car. It was crazy to bring a man to their secret “book club” location. Worse that the man was a grizzly-shifter and a cop. But when Detective Kennedy had passed out in her car, she could think of only one safe place to take him. Here. Hazel’s secret dojo PLACE, which stood for “Private Library and Cosmetics Emporium.” And then she’d begged Hazel—the closest thing to a mother she had—to come out of the dojo to help her.
Except Hazel had been more worried about the blood on Frankie’s clothes than the unconscious man in the front seat. Hazel had reason to not like men.
“Why’s he naked?”
“Because his clothes were ripped off when he shifted.” The remains of his shoes, pants, and boxers were in the sewer. She hadn’t seen any shirt, but that was because it was probably in fragments in the water. All that was left on his body was the detective’s badge dangling from a chain around his neck. It had remained on the bear and the man, though it was barely recognizable now beneath all the blood.
“He belongs in a hospital,” Hazel stated.
“Are you sure?” Francesca pressed. The woman had once been an army nurse and had medical experience. “I think it’s exhaustion. You know, from shifting too many times.” She winced. “He also got shot by, um, someone who shouldn’t have shot him.”
Hazel grimaced as she gingerly stretched forward to take the detective’s pulse. “You wolves are shooting cops now?”
“I’m not. I’m trying to save the guy.”
“A cop shifter.” Then Hazel gasped as she put the pieces together. The woman was sharp as a tack. “Is this Detective Kennedy? Your idiot crush from three years ago?”
“He was not an idiot crush! He’s a smart shifter who was helping the community, and so I told people. He was doing—”
Hazel pointed an arthritic finger at her. “Right there. That’s the idiot part. Good God, what you did to that poor man, and he didn’t even know why he was a target.”
She blew out a breath, her temper fraying. It had already been a long day in a very long few weeks. “Are you going to help me with him or not? He just needs a place to rest.”
“He’s a cop! I can’t have him here.”
&nb
sp; Fair point. PLACE often housed runaway wives and children. The organization survived in part because she and Hazel kept law enforcement and crazy husbands completely in the dark as to its real nature. Everyone referred to it as a “book club,” the sign read “Private Library and Cosmetics Emporium,” and no one ever brought an adult male here.
Until today.
“We’ll just keep him away from everyone. That’s what the attic’s for.”
“You going to haul him up there?” Hazel blew out a breath. “Why didn’t you take him back to the Griz?”
“Because I would have been spotted. Now are you going to help me—”
“All right. All right. Go get the wheelchair.” She grimaced. “And a blanket to cover him up.” She looked around the parking lot. Francesca had slid her Prius into a secluded area surrounded by fences and topped by trees. But you never knew who might be spying, and they had reason to be careful.
She started to head back inside while Hazel unbuckled Detective Kennedy. She was halfway to the door when the woman grunted.
“Make it a really big blanket. Geez, bears are huge.”
Frankie snorted. She’d been the one to half carry, half drag the guy to her car. She knew exactly how impressively he was built. He’d make a great ally, if she could get him on her side. If not, then she’d…what? Kill him per her father’s orders? She shuddered in horror at the thought. War or not, she was not going to kill anyone. She’d just have to convince Kennedy to help her all while keeping him off her pack’s radar.
By the time she got outside with the wheelchair and the largest blanket they owned, Hazel had maneuvered his legs out and was trying to wake the guy with none too subtle slaps on the face. “Come on, fuzz face, wakey wakey.” She turned to wink at Francesca. “’Cause he’s the fuzz.”
Francesca laughed at the old-fashioned term for cop. “You know the sixties were a really long time ago.”
“Not in my heart. Come on, Detective Fuzz.”
“Stop it,” Francesca said as Hazel was getting more aggressive with her face taps. “I can get him.” As the child of a shifter, she was slightly stronger than the average woman. As a newly formed hybrid, she was scary strong. She edged Hazel out of the way, braced Detective Kennedy against her, and hauled him out of the car.