Quinn and Mitch were on the right. Jessup and Amos on the left. Red was beside him. They moved in slowly, not wanting to alert anyone to their presence. It took them fifteen long minutes to get into position.
He took a deep breath and released it slowly. This was the moment he’d been waiting for since he found out about his father’s death. Shelley was down there. Soon she’d be in his hands. And he planned to make her pay for what she’d done. By the time he was done with her she’d wish she’d jammed that knife into her own heart instead of his father’s.
He raised his hand and brought it down sharply. A second passed. Then a shot rang out. The fight was on.
James’s head jerked up. There was something wrong. The forest was quiet. He raised his head and sniffed the air. A loud crack exploded into the silence.
“Get down!” Head bent, he sprinted across the clearing toward Shelley and Alex with Joshua racing behind him. The women were out in the open. Vulnerable. His heart pounded as he threw himself at them, knocking both to the ground just as another shot ran out.
A low howl broke from behind him. Quickly followed by another.
“Are you okay?” Joshua was dragging Alex to safety so James grabbed Shelley and pulled her closer to the cover of the house.
“I’m fine. What’s going on?” Twigs and grass were tangled in her hair and her face was smudged with dirt where he’d tackled her.
“We’re under attack. Get inside.” James was already stripping his shirt and kicking off his boots. Within seconds he was naked. He shifted without thought, ready to fight and defend his pack. His woman.
Shelley scrambled away from him, her back hitting the side of the house as he shifted. Bones cracked. Limbs reformed. Thick fur covered his body as he went from man to wolf.
He was magnificent. Majestic. Powerful. Shelley had never seen a wolf like him. He leaned in and licked her face before spinning around and sprinting to the entrance of the compound to meet their attackers head on.
Shelley couldn’t believe what was happening. One minute she’d been enjoying the cool spring morning with Alex, the next someone was shooting at them. She still couldn’t believe how fast James had moved. He’d saved both her and Alex from serious injury or possibly even being killed.
Shots continued to rain down on them. She scooted closer to the building. A bullet ricocheted off the wall behind her, sending large splinters of wood flying. Several hit her face and stung her cheek.
The smart thing would be to crawl inside the house where it was safer. But she couldn’t do that. Not when James was fighting for his life. For their lives.
She knew she was still in shock. Watching James change from man to wolf had left her slightly stunned. Intellectually, she knew he was a werewolf. But the only person she’d ever seen change was herself. It had taken her off-guard.
James was a big man, but he was huge in wolf form, his fur a silvery gray much like the hair at his temples. His eyes were still the familiar golden-brown. In them, she recognized intelligence and understanding. He wasn’t James, but he was. He and the wolf were one and the same.
It wasn’t monstrous to watch, as Tom had always claimed. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. His tongue was slightly rough but she’d felt comforted, felt his promise of protection when he’d licked her.
“Shelley,” Alex hissed off to her left. “Can you shoot a rifle?” Alex was about twenty feet away, hunkered down just outside her house. She had two rifles beside her.
“No.” That was something else she’d never learned how to do.
“Damn,” Alex muttered. She grabbed up one of the rifles and raised it, ready to shoot.
Around them, chaos had broken out in the compound. Joshua had also shifted and was heading toward the wide-open gate. She instantly recognized the large black wolf as her brother.
Levi and Micah were working their way toward the entrance, rifles in hand.
Simon slithered up beside Alex and lifted the other rifle. “Mind if I borrow this?”
Alex shook her head. “Be my guest.”
All Shelley could do was watch as several men raced into the compound, shooting as they came. She didn’t recognize the first three who fought their way inside, but she recognized their kind. Bounty hunters. They were dressed in camouflage and denim and all were shooting to kill. The fourth man in made her heart freeze with fear. Steve Macmillan. Somehow he’d found her.
James raced across the ground, moving faster than she’d thought possible. At the last second the muscles in his hind legs coiled and he sprang. The hunter raised his rifle and fired, but his aim was off, knocked aside by James’s strong forelegs. Powerful jaws opened and clamped down on the hunter’s throat. He cried out and fell to the ground, blood pouring down his neck. His cries stopped and he went silent.
Micah and Levi returned fire as the hunters scrambled for cover. One of the hunters was spun around as a bullet hit him square in the chest. He fell to the dirt, not moving.
Shelley felt useless. Less than useless. She needed to fight. She’d brought this on all of them. Somehow Steve Macmillan had found her. An axe sat propped next to a load of wood waiting to be split. Staying on her elbows, she dragged her body to the side of the house. She heard Alex calling her name but ignored her.
Taking a quick glance around, she scrambled to her feet. On a dead run, she grabbed the axe and kept going, circling the house and coming out on the other side, closer to the fighting.
The continuous spray of bullets from the hunters had Joshua and James pinned down behind a shed. Levi, Micah and Simon returned fire. Shelley heard a cry behind her and saw Simon fall.
Alex screamed his name. Levi sprang from the side of one of the houses, while Micah covered him. Closing the distance faster than seemed possible, he grabbed his younger brother and dragged him to safety, swearing the whole while.
Shelley blocked out everything happening around her. The sound of her brother’s moans, the blast of the gunfire, the pounding of her heart. She sorted through the smells. Blood. The acrid smell of the bullets. James. For a moment, she stopped and breathed in his unique scent. It was the same, yet different. Not unpleasant. Man and wolf together.
For the first time in years, she felt her wolf clamoring to get out and wasn’t afraid of it. “Soon,” she whispered. But not yet.
Shelley tightened her grip on the handle of the axe and concentrated. The stench of sweat mixed with fear and excitement. These hunters loved to fight and kill, and they expected to win. She paused and sniffed again. All except one. One of the hunters smelled different from the rest. She frowned and sniffed again.
Before she could figure out what that difference was, the scent she’d been looking for almost smothered her. Steve Macmillan. She’d grown up with the stink of his hatred burning her nostril, his disdain swirling around her. Now she could smell his need for revenge.
He was hunkered down behind a tree, his men in front of him. Her lip curled. Coward. He’d always allowed others to take the fall and then swooped in for the glory. She’d heard enough of his bragging tales at his father’s kitchen table to figure that out.
A shot rang out. This one was from behind them.
Shelley eased down beside the house and looked over her shoulder. That didn’t make any sense. She sniffed the wind and frowned. Wolves. She was getting nothing but wolves from that side. Another shot rang out and Levi swore. “Fucking Carlos clan. What the hell do they think they’re doing?”
It just kept getting better and better. Now they were under attack on two fronts.
A wolf came barreling around the side of the house. Shelley stood slowly and raised her axe. She had no idea if he was friend or foe. Another wolf was right behind him, bearing down on him fast. Five feet from her, the wolf behind sprang, coming down on top of the other one.
Growls filled the air as blood and fur flew. Powerful jaws and sharp teeth tore at flesh. Lethal claws ripped. Shelley was momentarily spellbound by the sight. It was so violent. So
raw.
Finally, one of the wolves lay dead. The larger one turned toward her. She raised the axe, ready to fight. His blue eyes were unusual, but familiar. She’d met him this morning. Donovan Brody.
He gave a low growl. If a wolf could sound disgruntled and pissed off, this one did. He whirled away and took off toward the sound of more fighting.
James. Where was James?
Shelley forgot the dead wolf only feet away and eased toward the corner of the house. It was still hard to see where everyone was. She concentrated on trying to sort out the scents, but it was becoming more difficult with the bitter smell from the guns and the metallic stench of blood filling the air around her.
A flash to her right got her attention. Someone was on the move. She glimpsed a familiar face. Macmillan.
Moving, she raced to the house next door. She had to kill him. Her nightmare would never end until he was dead.
She tore around the corner of James’s house and skidded to a dead stop. James stood there in wolf form, teeth barred as he snarled a warning at Steve Macmillan.
The hunter held his rifle ready, a taunting grin on his face. “You’re going to make a great rug for the side of my bed.”
Shelley screamed. Every ounce of rage she’d ever felt spewed to the surface at that moment. She would not let him hurt James. She drew back her arm and flung it forward, releasing the axe. The blade flashed in the morning sun and Macmillan was forced to dodge back. James started to move, but Macmillan brought his rifle around and held it on her.
“Stop right there, wolf. Or I’ll shoot the little bitch.”
James froze.
“Come here, Shelley. You didn’t think you could get away with what you did, did you? I’ve got plans for you.”
Shelley didn’t know what to do. If she went with him, she was dead. If she didn’t, he’d kill James. There was only one choice she could make.
“I’ll go with you. Just leave the rest of them alone.”
“Sure, Shelley. I only want you.”
She could read the lie in his voice, but knew she had no choice. Maybe she could knock aside his gun when she got close enough.
“Now, bitch. I’m running out of patience.”
Shelley took a step toward him. James’s hind legs quivered as though he was getting ready to jump.
Steve grinned. “Try it, wolf, and you’ll be dead before you get halfway. Shoot him, Quinn.”
Shelley froze as another hunter stepped out behind James. He raised his rifle. A shot ran out and she screamed. But it wasn’t James who fell to the ground, but Macmillan. Blood blossomed on the front of his shirt, spreading rapidly.
The blue-eyed hunter Macmillan had called Quinn ignored them, hurrying to Macmillan’s side.
“You bastard,” Steve gasped.
“Where is Chris Lawton?”
Steve gasped again. “You traitor. Who the hell is Chris…” Blood bubbled up from his throat and he took his last breath.
Behind them, Shelley heard more yells and the sounds of fighting, but she couldn’t look away from the scene before her. James shifted, the wolf receding and the man appearing. Naked, with blood staining his hands, James was an intimidating sight.
He shot a glare at her. She glared right back. She knew he was mad at her but didn’t care. She’d done what she thought was right, and she’d do it again in a heartbeat.
“What the hell is going on?” The voice was deep. Authoritative. And very familiar.
Shelley turned to see a huge male striding forward. He must have been about six and a half feet tall and he was all pissed-off male in blue jeans and a tight T-shirt. His deep mahogany hair was shaggy and hung down around his shoulders. His deep-set chocolate brown eyes were eerily familiar. She saw the same ones peering out at her each time she looked in a mirror.
“Isaiah.” As if a dam burst in her mind, memories flooded into her consciousness.
He stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes were blazing as he studied her. “My God. Rachel. It is you.” He walked forward like a man in a trance and grabbed her into his arms, holding her close to his heart.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, unafraid of this big man. She remembered him. He’d been more of a father to her than her father had been. She took a deep breath and his familiar scent surrounded her.
“I remember you.” The words were torn from her throat.
He leaned away and brushed her hair from her face. “Are you real?” The pain and anguish in his voice was so real it made her heart ache. She nodded, unable to speak.
“I hate to break up this reunion, but we have a problem.” Anger and some other emotion she couldn’t pin down vibrated from James.
Shelley pulled away from her brother and tried not to look at the dead man lying in the dirt beside them. She had to own up to the trouble she’d brought to his home. “This is my fault. He was searching for me.”
“It’s not anyone’s fault.” The hunter who’d shot Steve had his hands in the air. His rifle sat on the dirt at his feet.
James studied the hunter. “Who are you?”
“Quinn.” The tall, light-haired man offered no more than that.
James stood, hands on his hips, studying the stranger. Shelley wished he’d put on a pair of pants. Watching him strut around naked was doing funny things to her body, which were totally inappropriate given the circumstances.
“The rest of them are dead.” Joshua walked up beside James and handed him a pair of jeans.
“So are the Carlos cousins.” Donovan stepped forward, looking tall and menacing. She was glad he was fully clothed. She wasn’t quite ready to see another naked man. “Those bastards took advantage of the chaos with the hunters to try to kill James and nab Alex and Shelley.”
James growled low in his throat as he hauled on the jeans. He zipped up the fly but didn’t bother to button them. “I’ll deal with the rest of that clan later.”
He studied Quinn. “You need to give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you.”
But Quinn wasn’t paying any attention to James. His eyes were glued on Donovan Brody.
Shelley glanced from one man to the other, noting the similarities between them. They were of the same height and build. Where Donovan’s hair was dark brown, Quinn’s was blond. But the facial shape was the same. And so were their eyes. Pale ice blue.
James’s tension went up a notch. “Somebody better start talking.”
Quinn addressed Donovan. “Do you remember Sandra Lawton?”
Donovan frowned. “I’m not sure.”
“Maybe you’ll remember a tall blonde woman you lived with for a few months about twenty-five years ago in New York. You apparently had a great time for a while. One morning, you left without a word. She searched for you but never found you.”
Donovan’s gaze narrowed. “I remember. Sandy. She said her name was Sandy.”
Quinn nodded. “Yeah, well, you left more than just a good time behind.” He straightened his spine and braced his legs apart. Shelley knew what he was going to say before he spoke. “I’m your son.”
Quinn was numb as he stood there and stared at his father. He’d failed Chris. Steve Macmillan was dead, his time with the bounty hunters was at an end and he was no closer to his goal. He’d have to find some other way of searching for his twin. That’s assuming he got out of this situation alive.
He could shift to his wolf form, but that wouldn’t help him here. Not with so many other pureblooded wolves around. They might even kill him for being a half-breed. That happened a lot as he’d discovered during his years of searching for his heritage. He didn’t lose any sleep over killing those fuckers. They’d kill him and his twin if they had a chance.
He recognized Isaiah Striker and his brother Joshua. His mother had discovered Donovan Brody’s secret in the time they’d been together. She’d known what he was but had loved him anyway. She’d followed him in secret several times when he’d met with others of his kind, wanting to learn more abo
ut her mysterious lover. She’d seen the Striker brothers, had learned their names.
When he was five, his mother had seen the brothers walking down a street in New York and had pointed them out to him and Chris. Told them who these men were. What they were.
The other man. The one in charge, he didn’t know at all. He was one scary bastard.
Then there was the man he’d searched for all his adult life. Now that he was standing in front of his father, he didn’t quite know what to do, what to say.
“If you’re Donovan Brody’s son, what the hell are you doing with bounty hunters?” It was the alpha male that spoke.
“James,” his father cautioned the other male. It felt weird to be staring at the man who was his father. For years he’d been nothing more than a memory shared by Quinn’s mother.
Something deep inside him stirred when his father stood up for him. But he wasn’t reading much into it. They still might decide to kill him. The other man’s name struck a chord. “James? James LeVeau?”
The male’s eyes narrowed and pure menace flowed from him. He was one scary dude. “James Riley now. Why do you want to know?”
He motioned to Steve’s body. “He has one of his hackers searching a holding company belonging to you. He saw you and your truck in Nashville and got suspicious. When he turned up next to nothing it made him even more so.”
James strode forward until he was standing right in front of Quinn. Wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, he was an intimidating sight. But Quinn wasn’t backing down.
“I’m only going to ask once more. Why?”
Quinn sighed, knowing he had to tell the truth if he wanted to have a chance of getting out of here alive. “As you already guessed, I’m a half-breed.” James nodded. The fact that he wasn’t ordering Quinn’s immediate death was slightly reassuring.
“I have a twin. We were attacked more than a year ago. It took me a while to understand why it happened. We didn’t know much about our heritage. Only what our mother was able to piece together.”
Legacy Found: Legacy, Book 3 Page 17