by Kimber White
“Supplies for what?” My heart thundered in my chest. He rose and took a step toward me. God, he was strong. Stronger than he was supposed to be. Stronger than any wolf I’d ever seen. It wasn’t natural. Again, I felt drawn to him, even as I feared him.
“You,” Derek said as he took a faltering step toward me. Then, he took a breath and steadied himself. But, I knew that strength couldn’t last forever. If I could just wait him out. If I could just get back to the salvage yard. “Are going to start by getting this bullet out of my shoulder.”
“I’m what?” Then Derek’s fingers closed around my wrist and he pulled me toward the back door.
Chapter Five
Derek parked his truck about fifty yards away from the house, shielded under some overgrown weeds. He kept a tight grip on my wrists, and I had to break into a full run just to keep up with his stride. He didn’t let me fall. He also didn’t let me go.
“Back seat,” he said as he opened the cab door. “I’ve got a toolbox back there. Grab it.”
Derek held the door open, making me go in ahead of him. I had no hope of outrunning him, of course. I leaned in and saw a red, metal toolbox wedged on the floor of the extended cab. I made a quick scan, looking for anything else I could use as a weapon. Maybe if I turned around and brained him with something heavy, I’d have enough time to root out his keys and drive the hell out of here.
I felt the contour of his body against my thigh. My heart raced and the air went out of me in a whoosh. An ache filled me, making me want to turn into him when I knew I should be trying to run away. I gripped the handle of the toolbox and twisted to face him. The metal box wedged between us, but Derek’s eyes were only a few inches from mine. He cocked his head to the side slightly, and that infernal flash of gold sent shuddering heat straight down my spine.
“Good,” he said. He took the toolbox from me and tossed it into the bed of the truck. “Now get in.”
“What?”
“You heard me. We don’t have a lot of time. That wolf’s pack is already on their way. They felt him die. Can’t you smell them?”
Derek lifted his chin and sniffed the air. I couldn’t help myself; I tried it too. Closing my eyes, I inhaled. But, all I could smell was the sour rot of a skunk or other road kill not far off and the distant scent of something burning. And Derek. I could smell Derek. Musk and spice. A clean smell. But, wild too. He filled my head and made me dizzy. I took a staggering step back. When I opened my eyes, Derek stared down at me, those luscious lips curved into a half smile.
“Get in,” he said, closing his fingers around my upper arm. “You’re driving. Just in case I pass out again.”
My heart flared with hope. He’d just given me the means to escape. The instant I thought it, Derek reached beneath the seat and pulled out a light blue zip tie gun. Before I could protest, he grabbed my right wrist and lifted his left. In one swift motion, he snapped a new tie around us both, handcuffing me to him. Then, he shot me a full smile and wagged his brows.
Fucker.
I climbed in through the passenger side and crawled across the bench seat, dragging my right arm behind me as Derek slipped in. I was about to throw him a smartass comment when across the field, a chorus of howls rose through the trees. Terror turned my blood to ice, and I looked at Derek.
“Drive,” he said, slapping the keys into my right hand as he raised his left. “Preferably fast. Head back out to the highway. Rest stop about three miles west. You know it?”
I nodded.
“Good. Well lit. Secluded. It’ll be perfect for us.”
Perfect. Great. I put the keys into the ignition and slammed the truck into reverse. Derek kept his arm raised to keep mine from dragging down under the weight of it as I turned the wheel. The wheels kicked up dirt and spun out, but I floored the gas and we rocketed forward. I navigated the Tuckers’ yard, keeping the headlights off so as not to draw any more attention to us. When I finally hit the pavement at the end of the overgrown driveway, the truck’s tires squealed and we were on our way.
Derek gently closed the fingers of his left hand over mine as I maneuvered the steering wheel. I kept my eyes tightly focused on the road. But, every nerve ending in my body sizzled with strange energy, spreading from his point of contact on my hand.
Derek was right. The rest stop was basically deserted, which surprised me. I thought surely there’d be a trucker or two pulled in for a night’s rest. But, we were alone. Derek pointed toward a parking spot at the back of the building under a huge floodlight.
“Keep the engine running,” he said, his voice becoming ragged again. He braced himself with his free hand against the dashboard as I turned the wheel and pulled in. Time was running out for him. I slammed the truck into park and let out a breath.
“What now?”
Derek motioned toward the door with his head. He opened the passenger door and slid out, half dragging me with him. We walked around the cab and he grabbed the toolbox out of the truck bed. It dawned on me why he did it. There was probably something inside of that box I could have used to cut the zip ties binding us if he had passed out on me. But, this way, I would have had to figure out a way to drag him out of the truck and along with me to reach it. A shot of fear went through me, imagining what would have happened then if the wolf pack showed up.
“I’ll sit on the front bumper, directly under the flood lamp,” he gasped his words. The effort of talking, of even standing upright clearly tortured him. I felt the first stab of guilt for the pain I’d caused him and tried to close my eyes against it. He was who he was. I could never forget that. The only reason he hadn’t killed me was that he needed me. So what was to stop him from doing it the second I got that bullet out? If I got that bullet out.
Derek led me around to the front of the truck and perched himself on the bumper. He set the toolbox down beside him and reached down to open the latches. He pulled out a pair of wire cutters, a flathead screwdriver, and needle nosed pliers. My eyes widened in shock. He also had a pint of Jack Daniels tucked in the lid. He grabbed that too.
“You can’t be serious!”
“As a fucking heart attack,” Derek said, twisting the cap off with his teeth. He took a swig and handed the bottle to me. “Wouldn’t hurt you either.”
I took the bottle from him and chugged a shot without hesitation. The liquid burned going down and I gagged on it. Still, warm courage flooded through me as I handed it back. Derek shook his head.
“Use it to sterilize this shit.” He handed me the pliers and grabbed a small Maglite from the tool box. He clicked it on and held it between his teeth, angling it toward his shoulder. Between that and the floodlights, I could see clearly enough. His wound gaped open; new blood trickled down his sculpted chest. I just prayed my bullet wasn’t too deep.
“I’ve never done this before,” I said, and my throat had gone dry. I took another smaller sip of the bourbon.
“I have,” he said. “Nothing to it. See if you can visualize the bullet and we’ll take it from there.” He grabbed the zip tie binding us and gave it a quick snap with just his index finger, breaking it.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I shook my head and stepped forward.
“You better hurry,” he said. “Driving here bought us maybe an extra fifteen minutes. But I’m bleeding. They can track both of us pretty easily. They’ll rip you apart if I don’t have the strength to shift or hold them off.”
“Brilliant.”
Taking a steadying breath, I put my hands flat on either side of Derek’s wound. One on his shoulder, the other on his chest, just above his wildly beating heart. Something happened. His strong pulse seemed to fill me. It was the only thing I could hear for an instant. The world seemed to fall away and every sense in my body seemed to orbit around Derek’s heartbeat. It became my own. I felt it in the tiny beat against my neck. When his pulse fluttered, so did mine. My eyes snapped open and met his. His had gone wolf again, but just for an instant.
&n
bsp; “Hurry, Jessa,” he whispered. “We’re out of time.”
I took the pliers. “This will hurt,” I said.
“I know.”
“What if I kill you on accident?”
“You won’t. You’d have to shoot me through the brain or the heart, remember?”
“Right.”
I spread my fingers across the wound. A perfect circle, really. Blood pooled at the center. I poured a small amount of the alcohol into the wound, not sure if it would make any difference. Derek was right, without a shot through the heart or gray matter, infection wasn’t a worry. But, I couldn’t’ see anything. Derek reached down again and handed me a pair of latex gloves he had in a packet in the toolbox.
“Handy.” I gave him a wry smile. “You do this sort of thing often?”
“Find the bullet,” he said.
Nodding, I snapped on the gloves. I desperately wanted another shot of Jack, but figured I’d reached the point where my head would start to cloud. I slid my index finger inside the wound, letting out a squeal as I did it.
“So gross,” I whispered.
Derek sucked air through his teeth, but didn’t move.
“I can’t. There isn’t.” Then I felt it. A hard disk that shifted when I touched it.
“Fuck!” Derek shouted and grabbed the whiskey from me. He took another swig and handed it back.
“It’s not very deep,” I marveled. “I think I can just pull it out.” God, I could feel the thing. Such a tiny, little piece of metal with the ability to do so much damage. I was glad of the gloves for more than one reason. If any of the toxin still coated the plug, it would make me instantly sick just from skin contact. Dad learned that one the hard way a few months ago.
Derek handed me the pliers. “It’ll be more slippery than you think. Use these.”
My eyes met his again, and I nodded. He poured the whiskey over the blades and handed gave me a slow blink. “Just do it fast,” he said.
“Right.”
I kept one finger on the metal disk so I wouldn’t lose it, then I slid the pliers into the wound. Derek gritted his teeth, but still, he didn’t move. I missed the first time. And the second. When I went in again, Derek’s wolf eyes glared at me. If the toxin let him shift, he might have torn me apart. Hell, the second I got the bullet out, he might do it anyway. On the third try, I felt the pliers close around the metal. The instant they did, I pulled hard, afraid I’d lose my nerve. I knew instinctively Derek wouldn’t be able to stay upright for a fourth attempt. And there was something else. Howling rose in the distance again. Derek was right. We were out of time.
“Here we go!” I grimaced and closed my eyes. I yanked hard. Derek cried out, but the bullet came out with a pop. I held it up; it glistened red under the floodlight. But, I had it. The thing had flattened, but it was whole. No jagged edges or flaking. If there was anything left of it still in Derek, it was microscopically small.
Derek doubled over with his hands on his knees and promptly threw up all over the asphalt. I took a step back just in time to save my boots. He stayed prone like that for a heartbeat. Then another. I still felt like I could hear his pulse inside my own head. But, I must have imagined that. It wasn’t possible. His grew steadier, stronger.
I snapped off my latex gloves and wrapped the bullet inside of them. I tossed it and the rest of the tools in the toolbox. Derek raised his head high enough to shoot me an arched brow.
“Don’t want that getting into the wrong hands, you know.”
He shook his head and let out a bitter laugh. “Right. Having it in your hands is bad enough.”
“Well, how did I do?” I asked, looking over my shoulder toward the sound of the wolves. They were getting closer.
Derek rose to his feet and squared his shoulders. Those wolf eyes flared to life, sending sparks of heat shooting through me straight down to my toes. The air crackled around me with that same dark magic I’d felt when he shifted in front of me back at the campground. Fur sprouted on his hands and he dropped to all fours. I took a staggering step back.
“Bloody hell!” If he shifted in front of me, what was to stop him from tearing me apart now that he’d gotten what he wanted?
Derek arched his back and craned his neck. His breaths came hard and heavy through gritted teeth. His pulse thundered through me, making my very bones vibrate.
Then . . . nothing.
He craned his neck again. Again the ground seemed to shudder beneath him. His wolf was there, but still couldn’t come out.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered as the howling grew closer. Ahead of us, on the other side of the building, gold eyes danced among the trees. The wolves were here.
We were fucked.
“Shit!” Derek said, staggering to his feet. He gripped my arm and pushed me into the truck. “They’ll kill us both. Jessa, drive!”
Chapter Six
I drove. I slammed the car into reverse and floored the gas. Three huge gray wolves charged through the tree line, jaws snapping, their eyes lit with bloodlust. Derek gripped the dashboard. He seemed caught between man and wolf. Baring his own teeth, his eyes flashed fire, and sweat poured from him as his chest heaved.
I got us turned around and hit the on-ramp going close to eighty. The wolves kept up. One of them leaped toward the open driver’s side window. Its great fangs clamped down as its front paws gripped the doorframe. I screamed, swerving the truck to try and jar it loose.
Though he couldn’t complete his own shift, Derek reached across my chest, moving with a flash of speed and fury; he shoved the wolf back just before he would have chomped my shoulder. I saw him skitter and roll across the pavement in my side mirror. Derek trembled beside me, but seemed to recover faster this time. He carved a hand through his hair and turned back.
“Go faster,” he said, his voice deadly even now. But, I already had the gas pedal pressed all the way to the floor. The truck lurched and rocketed forward as we merged onto the highway going almost a hundred miles an hour.
I didn’t think. I just drove. Derek didn’t tell me where to go, but I already knew. There was only one place those wolves wouldn’t dare to follow. At least, I hoped. I checked the mirrors and slowed the truck. Derek gave me a horrified look, but I kept on going. I took the median and made a U-turn, nearly tipping the truck. Once I hit pavement again, I floored the gas and headed home.
“Are you . . . uh . . . okay?” I shouted over the roar of the engine. From the rearview mirror I saw four pairs of wolf eyes running behind us. But, at this speed, I’d started to put some distance between us. The change of direction threw them, at least long enough to let me gain ground.
“It’s better,” he said. Strangely though, I already knew. Still, I felt the echo of Derek’s pulse pumping in my own ears. Stronger. Steadier. Because of it, perhaps deadlier.
“Good,” I said, meaning it.
Another howl rent the air and curdled my blood. Derek’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the dashboard. I worried he might rip the molding right off. The front windshield vibrated from the pressure.
“Derek,” I said, trying to make my voice even. “Try not to crush the truck, okay? We need it for the next little bit.” On instinct, I reached over and put a steadying hand on his arm. Again, electric fire seemed to arc from him to me. The veins in his forearms bulged, but he relaxed his grip and slowly slid his hands down into his lap.
The wolves kept up their pace. They were about fifty yards behind us, but showed no sign of slowing down. I counted five of them now. I just prayed I was right that they wouldn’t be so bold as to run straight onto the salvage yard. Dad had the place wired with sensors he’d invented. An alarm would go off inside each of the trailers. He and Grammy would be armed and ready as soon as we drove through the front gate.
Which meant I had a decision to make. Driving into the yard was my best chance of evading the pack of murderous wolves behind me. But, what would it mean for the one sitting in the truck next to me?
De
rek hadn’t asked me where I was headed. Another act of trust after letting me dig into his flesh with a pair of pliers. He said I couldn’t have killed him that way, but I knew better. Maybe not killed, but I could have either by accident or on purpose shredded one of his arteries. If not fatal, it certainly would have been enough to incapacitate him long enough for me to get the gun back.
So why hadn’t I?
I could add that to the list of questions plaguing my mind as we hurtled down the highway and toward my father’s compound at the junkyard. Why had I hesitated when I had the chance to kill him? Not once. But, every time. Even as I thought it, I knew it was true. I had the shot back at the campground. Clear. Unobstructed. It wasn’t dumb luck or bad aim on my part. I’d pulled to the right on purpose. Just a fraction of an inch. A millimeter, even. It happened in that last instant as I pulled the trigger. Something came over me back there. That same something that made my blood hum when Derek touched me now. Between that, and the toxin’s strange effect on him, one thing was abundantly clear.
Derek Monroe wasn’t like other werewolves.
It happened just like I hoped it would. I made the final turn down the dirt road leading to the salvage yard. Our pursuers dropped back. Their leader gave a last howl of warning, but they didn’t advance. Derek watched through the rearview mirror. I looked up, and his eyes caught mine.
The freshly painted Lyle Salvage Yard sign loomed above us, just twenty yards away. Derek didn’t stop me. He gave me a slow nod and swallowed hard. He didn’t have to say what was on his mind. I understood.
This was yet another act of trust. His life was in my hands. I kept on driving.
We approached the gate. The lock operated with a keypad. I punched in my code. The silent alarm had already tripped, I knew. Two red lights switched on. If Dad was recovered enough to be mobile, he and Grammy had likely already armed themselves.
I looked straight into the security camera pointed at the truck. I gave a slow nod and then looked at Derek. This time, I didn’t have to say anything for him to understand what was happening. Trust me. I said with my eyes. Well, that and don’t try anything stupid.