by Celia Kyle
Because she was so running. The second she had the chance. At five eight and more curvy than lean, she had her bulk and her cougar’s strength behind her, which meant she’d be a match for him. Maybe.
She licked her lips, mouth dry. “I didn’t get a chance to look things over. I just opened the site and logged in. I didn’t realize I was in the wrong account.” She chuckled and tapped her forehead. She kept her eyes on Eric and reached for her mouse, intent on closing the Internet browser. “Sometimes I should be called a dumb blonde. I haven’t really—”
“Do you know what else I learned?” A crazed light filled his eyes, a sharp edge of madness. Another wave of panic and adrenaline entered her blood. “I learned your secret.”
“I—I—I don’t have a secret.” She shook her head and battled to suppress the trembles attempting to shake her from the inside out.
“Liar.” He hissed the word. Again with the animal references.
“I just…” Discovered your company funds an organization intent on exterminating my kind. That’s all.
“You’re a shapeshifter.” He spat the word.
Abby kept shaking her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You mean, like werewolves? Mr. Foster, I’m hu—”
“Human?” He snatched her wrist in a punishing grip, squeezing muscle and bone. “You’re still lying, but I know that pain breaks your kind.”
Agony could shatter a shifter’s control. Hell, it often did snap her kind’s restraint and release the animal.
The cat thought freedom was a wonderful idea. She’d bust out with fur and claws, take a few bites out of the men in the office, and then run for safety.
“Eric…” She pushed the two syllables past gritted teeth, hissing as the pain grew. It spread from her wrist, tendrils of pain crawling through her veins and scraping her nerves. “I’m not a—”
“It took one phone call and now I know what you are.” He bared blunted human teeth, as if the expression would frighten her.
The guns the others carried? Yes, they were scary. His sneer? Not so much.
He grasped her throat with her other hand, fingers curling around her neck as if they were claws. He’d accused her of being a shifter, but he couldn’t be sure, right? She had to cling to her skin. It was illegal to reveal herself to humans. His hold tightened, gradually cutting off her air, and she fought to draw oxygen into her lungs.
“You’re a furry who poked her nose where it doesn’t belong. Now you’re going to pay.” Menace filled his every word, hatred evident in his voice. “But first we’ll have some fun.”
Abby didn’t want to have any kind of fun with Eric Foster or his minions. Her cougar yowled, the cry consuming Abby’s mind. It surged, giving her strength—enough that she should be able to overpower a single human man. At least enough for her to break free. Except the longer he kept hold of her throat—cutting off her air—the weaker she grew.
The beast’s horror joined the terror consuming her human body. It blanketed her in a layer of blind alarm until she was hardly more than an animal driven to live. The cougar’s emergence began with her whiskers, the flick of one thick strand after another pushing past the skin on her cheeks. Pop. Pop. Pop.
Her inner animal knew it’d fucked up by pushing free, but the deed was done and she hadn’t finished. Fur came next, a golden layer of short strands that slid along her forearms. It led to her hands, fingers coated in her cat’s coloring. Her fingertips burned, and she knew that her human nails were giving way to off-white claws.
“Boss, she’s got claws.” A deep murmur from one of the thugs, and Eric’s attention flicked to her hands before returning to her face once more.
“You still want to tell me you’re not a furry?” More disgust on Eric’s features, and the stench of his hatred filled her nose. He shoved her away and rose from the desk. He stepped back, putting space between them before he spoke once more. “Tie her up. We’ll transport her to—”
“Unfortunately”—another man rounded the corner, dressed in black from head to toe; he looked just as deadly as the others, pure danger etched into every line of his body, but something told her he wasn’t part of this shifter-hating group—“Ms. Carter is otherwise engaged.”
Then he became a blur of motion, whipping into action before the goons could draw a weapon. The newcomer struck first, punching one attacker before kicking another. Each assault was quicker than her eyes could track and all followed by the snap of bone. She’d heard her own bones break each time she shape-shifted. There was no mistaking that sound for any other.
Grunts and groans filled the air, warring with the thuds of flesh striking flesh.
The newcomer caught someone’s fist mid-punch and twisted his grip, turning until the human’s forearm hung loosely at his side. He followed the action with an elbow to the face that sent his opponent stumbling back into the wall.
“Who the—shoot him!” Eric’s voice joined the sickening echoes of the fight.
One of the remaining three reached into his jacket and withdrew a handgun, pointing it at Abby’s savior.
Abby swept her gaze over the desk, searching for something to…Her eyes landed on the ancient ten-key calculator to the left of her laptop. Five pounds of plastic and metal that had to be more than ten years old.
She wrapped her hands around the device, yanked it until the cord ripped free of the wall, and launched it at the gun-holding goon. The calculator flew, a trail of calculator paper streaming in its wake, and slammed into the side of the human’s head. The adding machine sliced into his flesh and tumbled to the ground, and her target swayed in place. He turned slowly, his dazed eyes locking on to hers for a split second before he collapsed.
Two bad guys down; three to go.
Assuming her savior didn’t want to hurt her after he defeated the others.
“You bitch!” A fist collided with her cheek, knuckles striking flesh with a solid punch that had her head whipping around.
She fell forward and caught her weight on the desk, slumping over the furniture. Pain blossomed in her face and quickly spread, expanding until the ache throbbed through her head. The room spun, reality swaying with a wave of dizziness that had her stomach lurching.
The punch was followed by a kick, Eric’s designer shoe slamming into her leg, and another splash of agony filled her. “You fucking—”
“I’m not a fan of men who hit women.” That dark voice slithered over her, almost emotionless except she thought she heard a soft thread of rage in the syllables.
Abby shoved the pain away and regained control of herself. Yes, she was grateful for this stranger’s interference, but did she want to be around when he had no men left to fight?
She drew air into her lungs, moving beyond the dizziness and pulsating aches, so she could focus on escaping. Her plan hadn’t changed—it had merely been delayed.
She pushed herself upright and swung her gaze to her computer and the tablet still connected to the device. The fight continued behind her, and she spared a quick glance for the battling men. The stranger split his attention between the three remaining humans, aiming more painful blows at Eric than the other two.
The stranger really wasn’t a fan of men who hit women.
That didn’t mean he wouldn’t pick up with Abby where Eric had left off.
Abby snatched the tablet and yanked it free. She crawled over the desk and slipped off the other side, stumbling over the human she’d knocked out. She snapped her gaze to him and met his glassy stare, pupils wide and gaze unfocused.
Mostly.
He recognized her. He narrowed his eyes, hatred surging in his stare, and went into motion. He extended his arm, hand seeking his weapon, and she decided waiting around for him to find it wasn’t the best idea.
She scrambled to her feet, tablet still clutched in one hand, and ran for the door. She gripped the doorjamb and used the hold to swing into the hallway.
But not before the loud pop of a gunshot reached he
r ears.
Chapter Five
The shot didn’t stop Declan’s attack. Nah, it was the scent of Abby’s blood followed by a sharp cry that was a mixture between cat and woman.
Abby had been shot.
“You about done playing with the humans?” Birch’s drawl reached him through the com in his ear. “Because the cat is escaping.”
Escaping and hurt.
Which meant Declan didn’t have time to play with his opponents any longer. He didn’t have time to kill them either. When these five died, it would be slowly, painfully. He’d settle for broken bones and blood for now. The wolf wanted Declan’s promise that they could hunt them later. They’d scared Abby—hurt her. The beast decided they deserved to die.
Declan allowed the wolf to strengthen him, giving him the power to end the battle with a few more punches. Though he did make sure he broke noses while he was at it.
He finally turned to the office door and laid eyes on the shooter, the human slumped in the doorway, gun still in hand. This was the one who’d attempted to shoot Declan—stopped by Abby’s insane intervention.
He leaped over the prone body at his feet, eyes not straying from his target. He couldn’t eliminate them all, but he figured this enemy was on his way out the door anyway.
The human turned his gun on Declan, but a quick grab and twist ended with the weapon in Declan’s palm. He quickly tossed it out of reach and continued his forward momentum. His speed didn’t falter as he bent and wrapped his hands around the human’s head. A harsh yank was followed by a ripple of bones snapping in rapid succession, and then he was in the hallway, racing down the long stretch of darkness and back toward the stairwell.
Drops of blood—Abby’s blood—stained the ground, and his wolf urged him to go faster, push harder. She was bleeding and they weren’t with her. The scent of her pain filled the air, and it pushed his wolf to the edge of savagery.
He burst into the stairwell, and the beast lent its assistance once again. He leaped down the steps, following the trail of Abby’s blood. With each new drop, the beast became even more enraged, and it was torn between the chase and returning to finish the human males.
“She’s on the ground. Heading east,” Cole murmured.
“Declan, stand down. We’ll—”
“Mine.”
“Declan.” Birch’s growl was filled with every ounce of dominance the man could exert, and Declan’s wolf…
Didn’t give a fuck. It didn’t encourage him to at least stop and listen to the bear. No, it pushed him onward. He hit the bottom stair and emerged into the cool night. Abby’s scent still filled his nose, and he let his inner animal direct him. Cole said go east, but she wouldn’t remain visible to his team for long.
Declan rounded the corner of the building and took off after Abby, his fury growing with every droplet of blood on the ground. His feet pounded on the concrete, boots thumping in time with his heartbeat. “Cole. Her status.”
“Gunshot wound to the side. Slight limp. Not wearing shoes, so her feet will be torn to hell if her cat doesn’t help.”
“Her cat will help.” Declan didn’t doubt the she-cat’s desire to survive.
“Break it off, Agent.” Birch tried again.
“Fuck off, Agent.” He wasn’t stopping.
“North on Bay Street.” Cole again.
“I’ve got eyes on her—tracking her with street cameras.” Grant annoyed the hell out of him, but it was good to have the rule-breaking asshole on his side.
“Got the van purring and ready to go,” Ethan drawled, the lion looking for any excuse to get behind the wheel.
“I didn’t authorize—”
“Birch, give up. I’m taking her.” Declan couldn’t stop the wolf now. Not after it’d been teased with her scent, the flavors of her fear and blood.
The team alpha just sighed, and Declan could imagine the big bear dropping his head forward with resignation. “Grant, keep eyes on her. Cole, monitor the shit-storm across the street. When the live ones are out of that office, take care of cleanup.”
“I’ve got these new guns I designed that alternate C-4 pellets and detonators that have a timing trigger, so—”
“Cole,” Birch growled, and they all knew what that particular grumble meant. I don’t care. Just get shit done already.
“Yes!” Cole shouted, and he imagined the tiger punching his fist in the air before he bolted.
Birch just sighed. “Ethan and I will rendezvous for a pickup once Declan has her in hand.”
Declan grinned and took a sharp left onto Bay Street, still following the bloody trail. “See how easy that was?”
Birch grunted. “Move out.”
The sounds of his team bursting into action filled his ear, but he focused on one single voice—Grant. The other wolf fed him directions, giving him a play-by-play of Abby’s movements.
“Heading for the pier, Declan.”
The fucking pier. A bullshit tourist attraction and family-friendly hot spot. Crowds filled the area every night, and their stench would overlay Abby’s.
“Crowd won’t hide her,” Declan muttered, and increased his speed. Or rather, the crowd wouldn’t hide her for long. Short-term, though, it could make tracking difficult.
Then she came into sight, those golden curls streaming out behind her and that ass he liked so much jiggling with every pounding step. It was fucked up that he was turned on by her while she ran for her life, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“I have eyes on her,” he told Grant. He’d been distracted when she’d bolted—trying to save his own life tended to do that—but now he noticed she clung to a tablet, grip so tight as if it held the secrets of life. What was so damned important that—
She reached the very end of the pier, bypassing the families and teens who lined the railing. She shoved them aside and climbed the safety rail.
That was when it hit him like a baseball bat to the kneecap: she was pulling a jumper.
Nah, no way. She couldn’t be that dumb. She wasn’t going to jump. More than one stupid-ass kid had lost his life against the maze of a pier’s support beams. Good place to hide a body or two, perhaps, but that wasn’t currently on the agenda.
She balanced atop the eight-inch-wide slab of wood. The one that was supposed to keep people safe, not act as a diving platform. She placed the edge of the tablet in her mouth.
“Abby!” He shouted her name without thought, the word erupting from his lips in a roar. His beast aided him, made his voice boom through the air, and it silenced everyone.
She glanced over her shoulder at him, reflective golden eyes—cougar’s eyes—meeting his as they widened in surprise only to be replaced by fear. Why the hell was she afraid of him, dammit? He’d saved her. After beating a few others to shit, sure, but still…
“Abby.” He took another step forward, hand outstretched. “Wait.” Then she was gone. She spun in place and leaped over the side. He stood there a moment, immobile, and tried to get a handle on his riotous emotions. “I lost her,” he rasped. “She went wet.”
“What the—”
“Say again.”
“You’re joking.”
The men on the team mirrored his thoughts, and he didn’t reply. Not until he knew more. He raced to the edge and searched the sea for her just like everyone else on the pier. He ignored the humans’ cries for help while he plunged through the crowd. It wasn’t until he reached the spot where she’d stood only moments ago that he knew she’d be okay.
Abby delved beneath the surface of the black water, the darkness swallowing her whole, but not before he recognized the change that rippled over her. Skin as pale as moonlight shimmered, to be replaced by fur golden like the sun.
Slipping quietly away, far from the shouting tourists, he ducked into the shadows and made his way back to solid land. Chatter from the others filled his ears, invading his mind. He kept his voice low but firm when he cut through them all. “Ethan?”
“One block sou
th of your location.”
Declan increased his speed when he hit the sidewalk and turned left. He wove through the crowd and broke into a jog when he spied the van. The side door slid open, Birch holding it wide, and the moment Declan was inside, the vehicle went into motion.
He glanced at the team alpha, noting the man’s black eyes and the layer of dark brown fur on his cheeks. Birch’s bear was right at the surface, just shy of busting free and tearing them all to pieces.
“Declan?”
“You can kick my ass later.” He turned his attention to Ethan. “Get us to her place. Grant, what else do we know about her?” Yeah, she’d escaped, but why would a cat take a swim in the sea? He thought maybe desperate times called for desperate measures, but there’d been so many other ways to escape that wouldn’t have gone so completely against her natural instincts.
“You read the history. My shit is thorough,” Grant snarled at him, and Declan’s own beast growled back.
“Hit him for me, will ya, Cole?” Declan’s question was followed by a thump and a grumbled ow from Grant. “We know she’s an orphan. Where’d she end up when her parents died?”
A silent pause, and then Grant spoke again. “Seals up in Alaska from eight to eighteen.”
“Okay.” That gave him the explanation he needed. Sure, Abby was a cougar, but she’d been raised by seal shifters. Her inner animal did okay with water and her foster family taught her familiarity with the ocean. “She’ll use the water to travel. Won’t come to shore until she’s forced to. Grant, keep an eye out for her on the cams. Ethan, get us to her ASAP.”
“You think I could lead the fucking team?” Birch’s glare slammed onto Declan’s shoulders, and he turned his attention to the bear. “What makes you think we’re gonna keep chasing her?” Birch raised a single brow, black-eyed stare boring into him.
Because Declan couldn’t not go after her. He couldn’t exactly say that to Birch though.
“When shit went sideways, she stopped long enough to grab that tablet,” he pointed out. “It’s got something on there worth risking her life over. We want it.”