by Paige Tyler
“Seriously?” Khaki blinked. “That has got to be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard—or the creepiest. Not sure which.” Her brow furrowed for a moment as she tried to decide. “So how did things go from stalking to sex?”
Rachel studied the half-eaten donut in her hand. “Honestly, I’m not sure. When we talked in my apartment that first night, I wanted to hate him. But then he told me about saving my life and swore he’d never harmed a werewolf, and the next thing I know, I’m offering to teach him the ropes.” She shrugged and nibbled on her Boston cream in between recounting the story. “The more time we spent together, the easier it was to forget he used to be a hunter. Then last night, I kind of had a meltdown at my apartment in the form of the worst waking nightmare ever, and when Knox showed up, the horrible images I kept seeing and terrifying things I kept hearing all went away.”
“And then you slept with him?” Khaki prompted when she didn’t continue.
Rachel frowned as she realized her donut was gone. She should have bought two. “Yeah, though in the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit, after the meltdown last night, all we did was sleep. The other part came this morning. Right before Diego showed up at my apartment and found us naked in bed.”
“No way!” Khaki’s eyes went wide, then laughed. “I would have loved to see that. Does he know Knox used to be a hunter?”
Rachel nodded. “He overheard Knox and me talking about it. He thought I was in danger, so he kicked in the door of my apartment. But he promised not to say anything and to give me time to tell everyone myself.”
“And how exactly do you plan on telling the Pack you’re dating a former hunter?”
Rachel let out a sigh. “I have no idea. I’m not even sure if I need to tell them. I mean, I’ve known Knox for less than a week and we’ve slept together a grand total of once. It could fall apart by tomorrow for all I know, which would make telling the Pack a moot point.”
Khaki arched a brow. “Please. The man took a bullet for you, stayed in Dallas to be close to you, then held you after one of your nightmares. And from the look in your eyes when you talk about him, it’s obvious the bond isn’t one-way. The same way it’s clear you’re already falling for him, even if you did just meet him. That isn’t so surprising, though. That’s the way it works when you meet The One.”
Rachel started to agree with her friend’s assessment of the situation until she got to that last part. She did a double take.
“Wait. What?” she sputtered. “Knox can’t be The One for me. I mean, he used to be a hunter. Besides, we only just met. There’s no way he’s The One. I’d know if he was, wouldn’t I?”
Khaki reached into the brown paper bag and picked out a crumb she’d missed, popping it into her mouth. “You’re aware whoever is in control of the whole soul-mate thing doesn’t care about your excuses, right? Then again, maybe this is just a case of the woman doth protest too much.”
Rachel opened her mouth, then closed it again, not sure what to say to that. Before she could get her thoughts together, the courtroom doors opened with the babble of conversation and the clatter of footsteps.
Rachel was immediately on her feet, as was Khaki, who crumpled the brown paper bag and discreetly stuffed it into her cargo pocket.
“Gage wants me to stay with the judge,” Khaki said. “There’s been some concern he might be targeted along with Jennifer. He’s headed somewhere right after this, so I’m taking him out the west exit like normal, while you take Jennifer through the back. DAPS has a security motorcade waiting for you there.”
Rachel nodded. While the stuff about guarding the judge was new, the route she’d take Jennifer out of the building this morning wasn’t. It had been planned out last night.
Rachel thumbed the radio on the shoulder of her vest. “We’re on the way,” she told the DAPS guys waiting outside.
Khaki slipped through the crowd of nearly a dozen men coming out of the courtroom with Jennifer. Rachel would have preferred to grab Jennifer and slip away quickly, but unfortunately, the ADA was still arguing with several men in expensive suits in the middle of the hallway. A few of them looked more like bodyguards than lawyers.
Rachel moved closer until she was standing at the prosecutor’s side as she faced off against a tall man with aristocratic features and a slight bit of gray in his dark hair. Rachel recognized Alton Marshall from the photo the chief had shown her and her teammates the other day.
“By all means, feel free to exercise your legal rights and take the stand to testify on your own behalf, Mr. Marshall,” Jennifer said. “I’m sure you think your charm will have some effect on the jury, while I look forward to cross-examining you on any statements you might make.”
Jennifer’s heart beat fast as she faced down the crime boss. They were staring at each other, waiting for the other to break. Knowing there was no way the prosecutor would be the first one to walk away from the confrontation, Rachel leaned in to interrupt the impasse.
“Ma’am, it’s time to go,” she murmured in the woman’s ear. “Your car is waiting.”
Jennifer threw Rachel a grateful look, but before the DA could say anything, Marshall spoke.
“Officer Bennett, what a pleasure,” he said.
Rachel gazed at him coolly. She wished she could say the same. “Mr. Marshall.”
He regarded her thoughtfully. “I understand ADA Lloyd owes her life and her daughter’s to you. Surviving an ambush from three highly trained assassins, then almost chasing down their getaway vehicle on foot is quite impressive.”
Rachel felt like reaching over and ripping the guy’s throat out, but instead, she smiled. “I can’t honestly say if those men were highly trained, since the two who got away ran for the hills pretty damn fast. I personally think whoever hired them got ripped off.”
Marshall didn’t even blink, but if the tension in his body was any indication, he was pissed off as hell, something that pleased Rachel to no end.
Taking Jennifer’s arm, Rachel guided her to the stairwell at the end of the hall. Pushing open the door, she took a quick look before they headed down the steps. Rachel was watchful but not overly concerned anyone would try anything in the heavily guarded government building. That was good because Rachel’s head was still spinning with the possibilities of what she and Khaki had talked about.
Could Knox really be The One for her? What kind of crazy, mystical force out there would put a werewolf together with a hunter? Even if there were extenuating circumstances. Was that why she’d let him get away all those months ago at the SWAT compound?
One of the DAPS security team members announced over the radio earpiece she wore that they had the prosecutor’s vehicle ready and waiting and that the rear loading dock area was secure.
“My daughter can’t seem to stop talking about you. I think Addy idolizes you,” Jennifer said, jarring Rachel out of her thoughts as they continued down the steps.
It would have been simpler to walk out the front door, but they’d all decided that option was too dangerous. There were dozens of tall buildings nearby that could serve as the perfect location for a sniper. The back was more secluded.
“Addy is an amazing girl,” Rachel murmured as they reached the basement level of the building, forcing herself to stop worrying about soul mates for a while. “And I’m sure she idolizes you just as much. She’s probably talking about me more because I’m around her so much lately.”
The basement level of the courthouse had a lot of offices but seemed to be used mostly for file storage, hence the nearly overwhelming smell of old paper. She heard a few people moving around, but other than that, it seemed relatively quiet.
“I think we both know my daughter doesn’t think much of me right now.” Jennifer’s voice was soft and full of regret. “Her father and I haven’t been getting along very well lately, and unfortunately, Addy’s been caught in the middle
of it.”
Rachel remembered Addy saying as much the other day at the mall. She hadn’t felt comfortable getting into it then, and she didn’t want to talk about it now, either. She led the way along the long central corridor that led to the back loading dock. To their left and right they passed open doorways, endless rows of filing cabinets filling each room.
But she had to say something. “I’m sure everything will work out.”
Jennifer sighed. “I hope you’re right. As soon as the trial is over, I plan to do everything I can to make it up to her and my husband. They both deserve more from me.”
Recognizing yet another minefield she wouldn’t be stepping into, Rachel simply nodded and kept walking.
She was still waiting for the next awkward thing to come out of Jennifer’s mouth when two men stepped from one of the rooms ahead of them. Both guys were wearing work coveralls and there was a trolley cart loaded with the kind of boxes copier paper came in.
One of the men—a middle-aged guy with a slight paunch straining to slip out the front of his partially unzipped coverall—smiled at them warmly. A split second later, he grabbed the handgun that had been hidden under one of the boxes and opened fire in their direction. The move was so smooth Rachel never saw it coming. There hadn’t even been a single tingle of her normally hypersensitive werewolf senses. She hadn’t even smelled any gun oil.
A bullet smacked into the wall beside Rachel and it was only then that she realized she could barely hear the sound of the gun going off. They were using silencers. Crap. That meant they were more professionals.
Cursing, Rachel wrapped her arm around Jennifer and spun around, not only to put her body between the woman and the incoming bullets, but because the only way out of there was the way they’d just come. She made it half a step before catching sight of two other men in coveralls tucked away in opposing doorways halfway down the corridor. They were far enough out of the line of fire so they wouldn’t get hit by their buddies’ bullets while still clearly making it impossible for Rachel and Jennifer to escape.
Rachel considered turning back and attacking. It would be unexpected and since the first two guys apparently only carried handguns, she might have a chance. But then the reality of leaving Jennifer unprotected in the hallway struck, and she knew fighting back wasn’t an option.
Tucking the trembling woman close to her body, Rachel ran down the corridor toward the two men guarding their escape, then darted into the nearest filing room just as a round caught her in the calf. The wound didn’t hurt much, but the impact of the high-speed bullet almost took her leg out from under her and she stumbled, clipping the doorframe with her shoulder. Unfortunately, Jennifer’s head hit it, too.
Rachel flinched hard at the grunt of pain Jennifer let out as they both tumbled to the floor of the filing room. But when she heard the sound of pounding footsteps outside, Rachel knew she didn’t have time to check on the woman. Dragging a woozy Jennifer to her feet, she ran toward the back of the room, getting as many heavy steel filing cabinets between them and the approaching bad guys as possible.
A quick look around confirmed she was in a square-shaped windowless room with only one way in or out—the door they’d just stumbled through.
Two men charged through the door as Rachel ducked down behind the last row of cabinets and gently eased the prosecutor to the floor. There was a small gash along the left side of Jennifer’s head and blood was already running down her cheek and neck. Head wounds always bled a lot, but this one didn’t look too bad. Still, the impact with the doorframe had been bad enough to knock Jennifer senseless. She wasn’t unconscious, but damn close to it.
Grabbing her weapon from its holster, Rachel popped up from her hiding place and fired off a half dozen rounds in rapid succession to get the bad guys to duck a little. Then she dropped back down and thumbed her radio, first sending a quick SOS to the DAPS people waiting outside the loading dock, then flipping the channel button and putting out an Officer Needs Assistance call on the DPD main channel.
Her nose and ears told her all four men were in the room now. Rachel didn’t wait for a reply on the radio. She stood and shot off another few rounds in the men’s direction. She didn’t have much of a chance to aim because all four of their weapons were unloading on her at once, but she wasn’t too worried about that. Her DAPS backup was seconds away. All she had to do was hold on until they arrived. Then they’d have the four hired guns trapped.
But minutes later and already down to her last spare magazine of ammo, her backup still hadn’t arrived. She tried to call them again but got nothing. It was like there was no one on the channel, even though it was the same one she’d used to talk to them before she and Jennifer had come down here. Maybe the signal was blocked because they were in the basement. But that shouldn’t have mattered. The DAPS guys still should have heard the shooting. They were only a couple hundred feet away. Had more bad guys taken them out?
She had to stop worrying about that because the four men trying to kill her and Jennifer had split into two teams, each moving toward them from a different direction. Rachel was hesitant to leave the still nearly unconscious ADA alone, but if she stayed where she was, she’d draw the killers right to the woman.
Having no other choice, Rachel shoved Jennifer into a small space between two cabinets. Praying she’d be safe there, Rachel darted toward the nearest of the two approaching kill teams. She stayed low so they wouldn’t see her head above the cabinets, letting her nose and ears guide her toward her targets. As she moved, Rachel let her body shift as far as it would go, claws fully extending, fangs hanging over her bottom lip. She wasn’t too worried about the men seeing her like this because, in a minute or two, they’d be dead—or she would.
Rachel lifted her Sig as she reached the end of the row she was moving along, taking a breath and readying herself. These men were clearly experienced. They moved with a silent confidence that nearly matched her own and she had little doubt they’d go for a head shot if they had a chance. A bullet there would put even a werewolf down for good.
She only hoped seeing someone with claws, fangs, and glowing, green eyes popping out in front of them would stun them long enough to give her a chance to take the first shot.
When she stepped out from behind the cabinets, she got exactly what she wanted. Both men stood there stock-still, stunned to silence. But instead of pulling the trigger, Rachel was also frozen in place because the man closest to her suddenly had frizzy hair, a face covered in white greasepaint, a permanently demented smile, and red, glowing eyes.
“Hello, pumpkin,” the clown whispered in a horribly familiar voice. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Rachel panicked, her heart beating so fast she thought it would explode. She’d be hyperventilating too, if she could breathe. Fear clawed its way up from her belly and into her throat. Any second now, she was going to scream. Something told her that this time, she wouldn’t stop until she was dead.
Then the guy on the left—the one who didn’t have a clown’s face—lifted his weapon with shaking hands to shoot her in the head. She flinched just in time for the bullet to tear through her left shoulder. She was so numb with terror she barely felt the injury, but it was enough to jerk her inner wolf to growling, snarling life.
Rational thought disappeared as instinct took over and she simply reacted. It felt like someone else controlling the strings of her puppet body as she jerked her gun up and shot the clown in the face. Seeing him go down, her heart sang with perverse joy, knowing he’d never haunt her again.
The second man lifted his weapon to shoot her again, and her body reacted, her left arm sweeping out, her claws ripping through the man’s throat.
Rachel had no time to think about how she was going to explain a gruesome injury like that to anyone, not when the other two men were already closing on her from the far side of the room.
She spun just as one o
f the silenced weapons went off. The bullet grazed her side where it wasn’t covered by her bulletproof vest. The wound seemed to hurt more than the one to her leg or shoulder, and a part of her knew it was because she was too terrified from that damn clown to function at full strength.
She instinctively ducked behind a file cabinet as gunfire rained in her direction, then immediately popped back up to return fire. Until the upper receiver on her Sig locked back on an empty magazine. The men immediately charged, probably trying to reach her before she had a chance to reload. But they slowed as they realized she was already out of ammo, one pulling a knife as he crept closer. Rachel wasn’t sure why he’d bother with a knife when he was already holding a gun.
She tensed to leap at them, something telling her it was better to get in close than to let them shoot holes in her from a distance.
But as she started to lunge, one of the men stopped where he was. His face suddenly changed right before her eyes and he became the clown of her nightmares. The thing grinned, then began to laugh, the sound echoing in the room all around her.
Rachel froze, the fear stronger than ever, and she couldn’t do anything but stand there and wait for the clown to do his worst.
* * *
Knox weaved his bike in and out of rush-hour traffic, knowing without looking at the speedometer that he was doing over 120 as he raced for the courthouse. At least he prayed that’s where he was going. He still didn’t know his way around Dallas very well. He knew it was a big building with lots of glass somewhere off Commerce Street. How hard could it be to find?
He slowed only long enough to turn onto West Commerce, then hauled ass again, maneuvering in between cars and trucks, running every light he came to. Drivers swerved to avoid him, honking their horns, but he didn’t slow. More than a few people shouted obscenities out their windows, but he ignored them. Considering this was Texas, he was lucky no one had taken a shot at him—yet.