A Shifter's Bodyguard (Pale Moonlight Book 5)

by Marie Johnston

  She couldn’t let him get to her. Yes, she’d had help in all her previous altercations. And he was correct. It was just her and him. She had no idea when, or if, she’d get any help.

  Adjusting her grip on the handle, she kept going until she reached the door. Looking at the wood panel, she willed herself to open it. Cowering in her house was an option, but not one she wanted to pick.

  She was done hiding. There would be no more hiding in the pantry. No waiting for the boot to kick her in the gut. No time for someone to get here and fire the gun for her.

  Flinging the door open, she hollered, “Do you want to come out, or am I going to have to follow the stink? Who are you with? Anyone I know?”

  A deep chuckle came from the direction of her garage. She pounded down the porch stairs, pistol hanging at her side. It’d be like a standoff, but she doubted he was armed.

  Did he think his terrible insults were going to scare her off?

  He rounded the side of the garage, his slippered feet whispering across the gravel in front of the garage door. She hadn’t been lying. She could’ve closed her eyes and followed her nose.

  He stank of sweat. He must’ve skipped all showers while he’d been incarcerated and she could only guess when last he’d cleaned his ass before driving down to attack her. The stench was overwhelming and she was close to gagging.

  At least she’d been mated to the fastidious brother. He’d made her do all the cleaning, but he’d washed himself. That was the only good trait Roman had had.

  “John Todd,” she said, facing him with her chin up and shoulders back.

  “Sylva.” His sly smile filled her with oily unease. She couldn’t see any weapons. He still wore the prison-issued pale blue jumper. It was grungy and would likely stand on its own, but she couldn’t see the impression of any hidden knives or guns. Didn’t mean there weren’t any.

  “How’d you get out?” Would he tell her?

  He lifted a shoulder. “I had a little help.”

  The guards? One of the workers in the building? Anyone could have a grudge against her. Maintenance, the first responders, the jailers. She hadn’t made friends, but she didn’t think she’d made enemies.

  Or had a Raymore blackmailed someone? Threatened their families? She hoped Harrison and Malcolm squashed them.

  But she also wished they were here. Harrison’s voice would fortify her. His advice could be the difference between life and death.

  John Todd didn’t prowl closer, only stood there and grinned. She could raise the gun and shoot, but she had shit aim and five bullets. Plus, she wasn’t going to shoot a person who was just being creepy.

  “Why are you here?” The answer was critical. She hadn’t known it until she asked. What was he doing here? Why not sneak in and take her off guard?

  “Aw, Sylva. We used to be family.”

  “It was all a lie. I know about Grandma Raymore.”

  Color drained from his face. “You don’t know shit.”

  “I do. And if I do, you know the rest of the Synod does too.” She might as well keep him talking. Maybe he’d reveal a hint of what he was up to. “Harrison and Malcolm went to Four Claws. Raymore Reign is over.”

  John Todd fisted his hands and his nostrils flared. “You smell like a whore.”

  “If what I did is considered being a whore, then I’m pretty damn proud of how I smell.”

  His eye twitched, but he didn’t move. Wasn’t he going to shift? She’d be less perturbed if he was wandering around naked. Then she’d expect him to shift and try to rip her apart.

  The wind ruffled her hair, bringing more of his stench with it. Ugh. That smell.

  It was a standoff. What should she do? She couldn’t bring herself to open fire. Until he tried killing her, it would be wrong.

  Harrison would know. And if he had no ideas, at least she could tell him what Mother had told her about Shawna.

  Open your mind. Let Harrison in. He was so far away. Would it even work? He hadn’t even claimed her. They might not be emotionally connected enough for mind-speak.

  Harrison.

  Nothing.

  Harrison, I need your help.

  She glared at John Todd. He seemed nervous, his gaze glued to her. What the hell should she do?

  The hairs along the back of her neck prickled. They weren’t alone. She raised the gun to aim it at John Todd and turned.

  A smell hit her, a familiar scent, so similar to her mate’s. So similar they were related.

  Shawna.

  A giant wolf stalked around the corner, its teeth bared. Stalking her from downwind and covered in dirt. She would’ve never smelled the shifter over John Todd. They’d planned this. Would her mental message go through?

  She’s here.

  Chapter 19

  Harrison tried stamping his foot down on the gas, but he’d been driving wide open since leaving Four Claws.

  Malcolm had stayed back with the three they’d appointed representatives. If both of them had left, the Raymores would have pounced. Appointing the three non-Raymores was only a start. They’d pick five more—the more the merrier in that type of situation. But Harrison wouldn’t be a part of it. He had to get to Sylva.

  She wasn’t answering her phone. Fucking Demke and Jonathon weren’t picking up but had shot him a message saying they’d be in touch. They’d be in touch? That meant shit was hitting the fan in a major way, so major the Synod feared it’d derail what Malcolm and Harrison had gone to Four Claws to do.

  A tickling sensation went across his mind. His adrenaline must really be pumping if he kept getting waves of—

  No, this was mind-speak. Someone was trying to connect with him. He concentrated on picturing Sylva. It had to be her.

  She’s here. He was relieved to hear Sylva’s voice, but the terror in it made his canines throb.

  Shawna had found her. She’d been waiting, watching to see if her brothers would get the job done.

  And he was four fucking hours away. Open yourself to me, he pleaded. Let me see what’s going on.

  Could she do it? Would she? Was it even possible? Mind-speak was hard enough from this distance, but she was in his head, her voice clear over the roar of the engine.

  John Todd’s here, too. I don’t know what to do.

  He managed to keep his internal screaming out of his thoughts to her. How the fuck was John Todd out of prison? That told him why the Synod wasn’t picking up. They were too busy communicating with each other and mobilizing new Guardians to find John Todd.

  Rage and helplessness coursed through him, but he couldn’t let it rob him of his focus. He had contact with her and he wasn’t letting go, but mind-speak could be distracting.

  Harrison. He could almost feel her shaking.

  Picture me seeing what you see, like I’m looking through your eyes.

  Would that mean he had to do the same? Would it interfere?

  His head filled with a hazy image. It was working!

  An advancing wolf with a tawny coat and piercing blue eyes. The world swiveled and there was John Todd, dressed in his prison clothes. The picture morphed with the road he flew down until his was blurry. He was going too fast to be distracted. He’d be no good to her if he crashed into a tree and needed days to recover.

  Grinding his teeth together, he let off the gas. His mind still rebelled at not speeding toward Sylva. But she was facing the danger. He’d never get there in time. He pulled to a stop on the side of the narrow road.

  His insides twisted at the thought of what Sylva was up against. It’d take more than a few lessons for her to fight both of them, and to do it when one was a shifter and one was a human. Do you have the gun?

  Yes. Now, she just had to shoot it when she needed to. The picture disappeared. Either their mind-speak wasn’t strong enough or they weren’t close enough to do both.

  No more mind-speak. Just keep me in your head. Nothing. Come on, Sylva. Let me back in. Don’t keep him hanging during her worst moments. He d
idn’t want to be shut out.

  Faint words drifted through his head. Sylva’s voice. “I guess this answers the question of how you got out of prison.”

  The image reformed. John Todd’s sinister smile made Harrison’s gut twist. He hadn’t moved; the image was moving. Sylva’s house came into view. She was backing away. A swirl and the wolf was back in view.

  Ah, she was edging into the clearing to keep either shifter from being at her back. She hadn’t been jumped yet, but that just meant that John Todd and Shawna wanted to toy with her.

  “Shawna got in and out with no one knowing.” John Todd nodded at Shawna, his expression so proud. “I told her everything. How the schedule runs, where the weak points are, and who was shitty at their job.”

  “I didn’t realize you two were so close.” The shake in Sylva’s normally steady voice was clear. The wolf wasn’t advancing, content for now to let Sylva’s anxiety spike.

  John Todd’s sick smile fell. The hostility rolling off him echoed through Sylva into Harrison. “My brother could amplify abilities and that included mind-speak. Until that dog you’re fucking killed him.”

  “Um,” Sylva swallowed and her hesitancy to goad John Todd on passed through their connection, “which brother? Because he killed Rafe, not Clayton.”

  John Todd snarled and stomped forward. His gaze jerked toward his sister. Harrison could imagine the conversation. They were plotting to toy with Sylva until she acted irrationally. She might have piss-poor aim, but she didn’t have to be close to peg them with silver.

  “We’re going to do this slowly, Sylva.” John Todd started moving, like he was cutting her off from the trees. “We’re going to give you the opportunity to defend yourself. We’re going to show you how real shifters get revenge.”

  The view wavered. Stay with me, he urged. Stay in my head, Sylva. Please. Never did he think he’d beg another female to access his mind.

  The vision sharpened and her voice rang out. “To be honest, I didn’t shoot your brother in the back. I pulled the trigger as he laughed at whether or not I could do it.”

  “Bullshit.” The scrunch in John Todd’s face resembled his grandmother’s. “You and your mama snuck up on him when he wasn’t looking.”

  “He was looking. I was the last thing he saw.”

  The wolf lunged and the pistol came into view. Good. Nice and steady. But he didn’t let that leak into his mind-speak and risk losing the image.

  “Stop.” Sylva’s command was full of Synod authority. “The chance that both of you survive this is slim.”

  The male’s derisive laugh made Harrison want to fly through time and space and punch him. “Nothing a little salt won’t take care of.” He sucked in a breath and puffed it out. “Enough talk. Time to collect on your pain.”

  He stalked forward. In the periphery, a blur of tawny fur flew closer. Silver glinted in his view once more. Do it, Sylva. You gotta do it.

  A growl or a snarl penetrated the din between his ears, but it didn’t strike him as wolfish. He couldn’t see a damn thing from Sylva’s end, and the empty highway taunted him.

  He stomped on the gas. Whether or not he made it in time was out of his control, but he had to get to her.

  He was coming for her. Murder was in his eyes. Pull the trigger!

  That wasn’t Harrison’s voice in her head, it was her own.

  Sylva squeezed, barely managing not to slam her eyelids shut. Without bothering to see if she’d hit John Todd, she dove to the side, tensed. Teeth and claws were going to rip into her. A different enraged snarl filled the air. It wasn’t her. It didn’t sound like a human either.

  Rolling to her feet, she clutched the pistol and crouched. John Todd was still coming at her, no visible wounds, but he was cautious, his gaze pinned in the direction of his sister.

  Was that…?

  Nala! The mountain lion was rolling over the ground with the larger shifter. Sylva would be getting chewed apart if it weren’t for the cat.

  John Todd dismissed the fight. Shifters were larger than regular wolves and Nala wouldn’t last long. He bared his fangs and charged her.

  She had four bullets left. Mother’s instructions from years ago ran through her head. Line up the notch. Closing her left eye, she took aim. Squeeze. She hit him. Squeeze. It got him in the chest and he staggered, catching himself on the ground with a hand.

  Then he straightened.

  Breathe, aim, squeeze. She held her breath, looked down the length of the gun to the point between John Todd’s eyes, and fired.

  His gaze went vacant and he fell to the side midstep.

  She was still holding her breath. Wheezing her exhale, she gasped in more air and turned toward the fight. She had one more bullet and she was fully clothed. This shot had to drop Shawna or she was taking on a wolf with her bare hands. And since she was in human form, she couldn’t communicate with Nala.

  She widened her stance and directed her aim toward the tumble of shifter and cat. As soon as there was an opening, she had to take it. Nala’s sides were shredded. Most of the wounds were superficial, but there were enough of them to be detrimental.

  Come on, Nala. Get out of the tangle. Give me some distance.

  The cat twisted and flipped, evading Shawna’s mighty jaws. Come on, come on. Shawna flung herself around, dislodging the cat. Nala rolled and flipped up to her feet.

  Mother’s voice rang through her head. Breathe. Aim. Squeeze.

  When the gun fired, Nala jumped and spun toward her. Sylva couldn’t spare her a glance. Her headshot was successful. The wolf staggered, stumbled, then fell to the ground.

  Sylva sagged to her knees. Relief poured through her that she was safe. All the siblings that had tormented her were gone.

  But she’d killed two beings in just as many minutes. Bile rose in her throat, choking her. Sounds she hadn’t heard since Roman had been shot came out of her. Retching, gagging sobs.

  Nala limped over to her. The smell of her blood surrounded each of them like a cocoon.

  “Aw, hell, Nala. You’re hurt again. And because of me.” The cat bumped her head against Sylva’s shoulder. Sylva dropped the pistol. If she never touched it again, it would be too soon.

  Digging her fingers through an undamaged portion of Nala’s fur, she murmured, “Thank you.”

  Sylva!

  Harrison was in her head. She wanted to smile—he could break into her head now without permission—but her muscles didn’t want to work. I’m here. They’re dead.

  Are you all right? He sounded so worried, so frantic.

  Yes. Without Nala, I wouldn’t be able to say that. Or be alive.

  I’m still hours away.

  I’ll be here. This was her home. She’d defended it. Nala’s hurt. I’m going to tend to her.

  How bad is she? His concern for the cat bled through their connection.

  Her injuries aren’t severe, but there are many. So many. Sylva hated that others had been dragged into her drama and hurt, but she couldn’t deny that she’d needed help. Wasn’t that why they lived in packs in the first place?

  Perhaps it was time to open up to the people around her.

  Sylva. Harrison was there with her. She liked him in her head. She couldn’t expend the mental energy to show him what was going on, but he was there.

  Yes?

  I… I love you.

  She doubted he’d ever said those words. Just like she never had. She suspected he hadn’t claimed her because he’d been afraid that he was holding too much of himself back. But then, hadn’t she been doing the same? The fear of death changed things.

  I love you, too, Harrison. She let him hang out mentally, to know she was okay.

  Groaning to her feet, she chatted with Nala. It was the best she could do to communicate with the cat. “Let me get you cleaned up and find some food.”

  Nala tried following her, but stopped and began tending to her own wounds. So much blood. The farther she walked away from the cat, the more the air
was stained with the sour stench of Raymore blood.

  She went into the house, the list of what she’d need running through her mind. Towels. Hot water. Hamburger.

  Once she had her armload, she went back outside. Nala was licking at her side. So many injuries, but no bones seemed to be broken and the level of bleeding suggested no major artery had been hit.

  Sylva sank down next to her, dabbed a towel in the water, and mimicked the cat, stroking along the cuts. She pushed the meat toward Nala. Pausing, the cat considered the food but went back to cleaning.

  “I know it’s not Harrison’s bone marrow broth, but I’ll make some.” Manic laughter gurgled out of her chest. “I’ll make it whenever you want. I’ll make whatever you want whenever you want. Forever.”

  Nala kept cleaning until an engine broke through the din. The cat jumped to her feet as a plain black sedan flew down the drive. Sylva rose, planning her strategy in case any other Raymores thought they’d come and mess with her.

  It was Demke. He was pale, his driving erratic. When he saw her, he hit the brakes, sagging behind the wheel like he’d never been so relieved.

  Sylva patted Nala’s head. “It’s okay. He’s a friend.” And he really was. She’d never had a friend before. But she could count three now. Nala. Demke. Malcolm. Harrison was so much more.

  Nala slunk into the tree line, her wary gaze staying on Demke’s car.

  Demke clambered out. “Sylva. I thought I was going to be too late.” His gaze landed on Shawna’s prone form and his already pale face went ashen. “Malcolm called to inform me— I just— How did you— You know what? I don’t care. I’m glad you’re still alive.” He strode over to John Todd, his lips turning into a deep frown. “Good aim.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to say thanks. She scanned the mess in her yard. Blood and dead bodies. The Raymores’ reign of terror was over. She had her life back—and it had been through passive means. “When this mess is settled, how about bringing your family over for a big barbeque?”

  Epilogue

  “You’re worried about him,” Sylva murmured. She was draped over Harrison, her head on his chest and her leg across his. The early-morning sun shone through her blinds, hitting the new bedroom set she’d purchased and the flooring that Harrison had installed.