by Ciana Stone
Wyatt pushed her away from him and stared over her shoulder with a fixed expression of rage on his face. She looked over her shoulder but saw nothing except the wall. When she turned to him his expression had changed. Along with rage there was fear.
“Wyatt…” She tried to take his hand. “What do you see? Can you hear me? You have to fight this—”
“There’s nothing to fight. I’m in control and I know what I have to do.” Without another word he ran outside to his father’s truck and jumped in.
Chance snatched her keys from the table beside the door and pulled out her phone, dialing as she ran out of the house.
Sheriff Smith’s voice came on the line. He barely had time to say hello. “Tom, it’s Chance. Someone has John Wolfe and I think they’re going to kill him. They called and said for Wyatt to get over there. I couldn’t stop him. You have to get over there. I’m on my way now. Hurry!”
Chapter Nine
Maggie Valley
Iris was back in control by the time she heard the knock on her hotel room door. She opened it and stood framed in the doorway, letting Greg take a long look at her. Dressed in a sheer lace teddy with a matching chiffon jacket, she knew she presented an alluring picture. The expression on Greg’s face as he looked at her confirmed it.
“Oh, yeah,” he breathed and gathered her against him as he backed her up into the room. “This is what I call a welcome.”
He kicked the door closed behind him then claimed her in a hungry kiss. Iris let him indulge himself for a few moments then playfully pushed him away. “Slow down there, big boy.”
“Slow down, hell!” he exclaimed and reached for her again. “Baby, I’m just getting warmed up.”
“Well, cool your jets for a minute, lover.” She walked away from him to fix them each a stiff drink. “Before we get too involved having fun there’re some things we need to go over.”
“Such as?”
“Such as your little friend, Daven Porter,” she replied as she arranged herself provocatively on the bed.
“I’m listening,” Greg said as his eyes traveled appreciatively over her lush body.
“I think it’s time to eliminate Miss Porter.”
“Eliminate?” Greg’s eyes moved sharply to hers. “As in—”
“As in kill, lover.”
“Look, Iris.” Greg put his drink down on the nightstand and held up his hands. “Taking out those red bastards is one thing, but killing a woman—a white woman—that’s something else altogether.”
“Even a white woman who’s trying to trap you into admitting that you’re behind all the trouble? Not to mention one who’s bedding Wyatt Wolfe like a bitch in heat?”
“She’s fucking Wolfe? But I thought you said—”
“Forget what I said and pay attention,” she snapped then softened her tone. “Greg, honey, listen to me. I’ve seen Miss Porter, and talked to her. Don’t forget, as far as she’s concerned I’m on the Indians’ side, so she doesn’t have any reservations about being honest with me. And I know for a fact that she’s going to try her damnedest to make sure that you’re the one left holding the shitty end of the stick. And from what I understand she already has some pretty damaging evidence.”
“What evidence?” Greg’s face noticeably paled.
Iris wanted to laugh at the stricken, fearful look that was stamped on his handsome face but she knew better. She needed Greg in order to succeed. “That I don’t know,” she said, trying to sound frustrated. “But she indicated that it’s enough to get you and some of your boys arrested for murder and attempted rape.”
“Son of a bitch!” he shouted and swiped at the glass on the nightstand, sending it flying across the room. “That conniving bitch!”
“My thoughts exactly, lover. But we still have the upper hand.”
“We do?” He looked at her with a perplexed expression taking shape on his face.
“Oh yes, indeed.”
“Then what do we do?”
“Why don’t you come on over here and I’ll tell you,” she suggested, patting the bed.
Greg complied without hesitation. Iris pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. “Now, I want you to pay close attention,” she said as she started to unbutton his shirt. “Here’s what I want you to do…”
* * * * *
Wyatt pulled off the road about a quarter of a mile from his father’s house. Leaving the truck parked in the trees, he covered the rest of the distance on foot. There was a late-model pickup truck parked in front of the house. He skirted the property, staying in the cover of the trees to make sure there was no one standing watch outside, then silently ran around to the side of the house.
Easing along, he looked into the windows as he reached them. There was no one in either of the two bedrooms or the kitchen. He checked the bathroom and found it empty then made his way toward the front of the house.
He looked through the window and could see his father. John was tied to a straight-backed wooden chair near the back wall. His face was battered and bloody and Wyatt could tell that he’d taken quite a beating. But John’s back was straight and his face was set in a mask of defiance and rage. His eyes stared straight ahead without blinking.
Two men were in the room with him. Wyatt recognized one of them, Hank Turner. The two other men he had seen around, mostly with Holling’s boys. He thought one of the men’s name was Graham but he wasn’t sure. Hank was sitting on the couch with a deer rifle lying across his legs, watching television. Graham was smoking a cigarette, thumping the ashes on the floor as he peered out the front window every few seconds, while the third man paced.
Wyatt ducked down and made his way to the back of the house. Carefully he crept up the back steps and twisted the knob of the back door. He breathed a silent thanks to discover it unlocked. Slipping inside the kitchen, he stood and listened for a few moments then began to make his way toward the front of the house.
He had just made it past the bathroom door when he heard a sound from outside. The sound of a vehicle pulling up in front of the house. Wyatt stopped, listening to see if it was more of Holling’s men. He inched forward a little closer to the living room door and pulled the knife from its sheath.
John Wolfe looked up in alarm as Graham threw down his cigarette and cursed. “Goddamn, it’s that fucking reporter!”
Hank jumped up and positioned himself on the other side of the door. “Get back!” he hissed at Graham.
Graham had just enough time to press against the wall beside the door before it flew open. “Chance, look out,” John shouted as she burst in.
“John!” she screamed, seeing him at the same moment Hank grabbed her from behind. “Let me go!” she shouted and thrashed around, kicking. “Get your hands off me!”
Suddenly Wyatt appeared in the room. “Let her go,” he said in a deadly calm voice. “It’s me you want.”
Hank jumped in surprise but didn’t release Chance. Graham leveled his gun at Wyatt. “You fuckin’ red-skinned piece of shit. I oughta do you right now.”
“Then do it.” Wyatt looked him in the eyes. “But let the woman go.”
“No!” Chance stomped down hard on Hank’s foot then rammed her heel into the opposite knee. He yelled and released her as he hopped around in pain. Chance started toward Wyatt but Graham grabbed her arm and jabbed the barrel of his handgun underneath her chin.
Wyatt made a move toward them and Graham yelled at him, “One more step and she buys it!”
By then Hank had recovered. He trained his gun on Wyatt and spoke to Graham. “Tie her hands behind her back.”
While Hank kept his weapon aimed at Wyatt, Graham pulled a length of nylon cord from the pocket of his hunting jacket. “You try anything and your boyfriend gets blowed to hell,” he told Chance as he lowered his weapon. “You got it?”
She nodded mutely and didn’t resist as he pulled her hands behind her back and tied them tightly. Then he pulled her over to a heavy wooden rocker in the corner
of the room and pushed her down in it. He tied the free length of cord to the wooden slats in the back then looked at Hank.
“Now tie him.” Hank nodded toward Wyatt.
Graham swallowed nervously as he approached Wyatt. Wyatt didn’t move but kept his eyes fixed on Chance where she sat tied to the chair. Graham lashed his hands behind his back then looked again at Hank.
“His feet, too.”
“Get on the floor!” Graham ordered Wyatt.
For a moment Wyatt didn’t move, then he did as Graham ordered. Graham wound the cord tightly around his ankles, tying it tight enough that it almost cut off the circulation to his feet.
“Well, now.” Hank smiled smugly. “That’s better. Now we can have us some fun.”
“Let the woman go,” Wyatt demanded. “She’s no good to you. It’s me you want.”
“Oh, I think you’re wrong there, red-skin,” Hank replied arrogantly. “Seems to me she’d be purty damn good.” He looked over at Chance and sneered. “Matter of fact, why don’t we find out? She ain’t gonna mind. Any woman that fucks an Indian ain’t gonna mind if two good old white boys stick it to her.”
Graham grinned and nodded enthusiastically. “Can I go first, Hank? I wanna do her in the ass.”
“Hell no, you can’t go first.” Hank shoved his gun in the front of his pants. “I ain’t takin no sloppy seconds.”
He turned and walked over to Chance, putting his hands on the arms of the chair and leaning down to leer in her face. “You ready, bitch?”
She didn’t flinch or blink but instead spat in his face. “Touch me and I’ll kill you, you stinking pig!”
Hank wiped the spittle off his face, straightened up and backhanded her hard enough to make her head whip to one side and bang against the back of the chair.
“Leave her alone!” John shouted.
“Or what?” Graham taunted him. “What you gonna do, old man? Call your sky spirits to come down and smite us?”
“Leave her alone,” John repeated.
Graham walked over and smashed John in the temple with the butt of his gun. John’s eyes rolled back and his head fell to one side. Graham looked over at Wyatt to find him staring with a look of cold hatred in his dark eyes.
“Touch her and you die,” Wyatt said in a cold calm voice.
Graham laughed nervously as he took a step back then looked at Hank. Hank walked around behind Chance and unfastened the rope that held her to the chair. Grabbing her by the hair he hauled her to her feet and shoved her forward.
“You just sit there and watch, chief,” he said to Wyatt as Chance struggled, kicking and squirming to get away. “We’re gonna show you how to fuck a white bitch. Come on, Graham, let’s get this slut’s clothes off.”
Chance screamed as Graham grabbed her shirt and tore it open. His hands closed painfully on her breasts and she kicked at him, catching him in the thigh. He stumbled back with a mad look on his face then came at her again.
She could not dodge the slap he delivered, as Hank still held her by the hair. Her head swam and before she could collect herself to react they shoved her to the floor.
She started kicking and screaming like a crazed person. Both men were trying to pin her legs down in order to get her pants off. Neither one of them was paying any attention to Wyatt. They weren’t paying attention to anything but trying to hold Chance still.
Suddenly the front window exploded in a shower of glass and splintered wood. Hank tried to pull his gun from the waist of his pants as the huge gray wolf leaped into the room. He didn’t make it. Wa’ya’s weight slammed into him and a moment later his teeth sank into Hank’s neck.
Graham forgot about Chance and tried to reach his rifle that was lying on the floor. She kicked at him, making him fall over sideways then kicked at the gun and sent it sliding across the floor, under the couch.
Hank was screaming in pain as Wa’ya shook him like a rag doll. Graham was trying to edge toward the door when an enraged roar that didn’t sound quite human came from Wyatt’s direction.
Graham immediately yelped in surprise and turned in Wyatt’s direction. “Goddamn! What the fuck’s—” He forgot all about Hank being torn to shreds by the wolf.
Chance scooted over to the couch and stood. That was when she saw Wyatt. “Oh, no!” she breathed. The transformation was almost complete.
Graham didn’t have the good sense to run. He just watched in morbid fascination as Wyatt changed before his eyes. His eyes grew darker until they appeared no more than black, bottomless holes. His features twisted into a hard mask of rage and hatred. The veins in his forehead and neck stood out suddenly and as everyone watched in amazement he snapped the nylon cord that bound his wrists as if it were kite string, then did the same with the bonds at his ankles.
Chance heard a gasp from John as Wyatt stood and looked at Graham with a murderous gleam in his eyes. John looked as if he were in shock. She wanted to help him but she couldn’t afford to take her attention off Wyatt for long.
“Wyatt, no.” She started toward him. “Don’t. Let the sheriff handle it. He’s on his way. Please, don’t do anything.”
“Do not order me, woman!” he shouted and grabbed Graham by the throat.
Graham gurgled and gasped as he was lifted up off the floor. “Stop!” Chance shouted and ran at them. “If you kill him it won’t solve anything! He’s no good to us dead, but alive we have proof of what happened.”
“He does not deserve to live. He is an enemy of the People. He must die.”
“Wya—” She stopped before she got his name out. He was not Wyatt at that moment. She had to appeal to the other. “Walker!” she shouted. “Listen to me!”
He turned his head and looked at her. “Please,” she implored. “Listen to me. If you let him go I’ll provide you with what you need to ensure you remain in control. I know how you can keep Wyatt trapped. But I won’t tell you if you kill him.”
Walker eyed her with suspicious eyes. “Tell me or he dies.”
“Then kill him. And I’ll never tell you.”
Walker stared at her coldly for a moment then heaved Graham away, across the room. He hit the wall, shattering the plaster before he sank to the floor unconscious. Walker grabbed Chance by the arm and jerked her to him. “Tell me.”
Chance heard a growl from behind her and looked to see Wa’ya poised and ready to attack. “No, Wa’ya,” she said softly.
“Tell me!” Walker shouted, shaking her hard enough to lift her up.
Chance’s feet scraped at the floor as she tried to balance herself. At last Walker stopped shaking her and she got her feet securely on the floor again. “I’ll tell you,” she said. “But the answer isn’t here. We have to go somewhere else.”
He jerked her up close to his face. “You think you can trick me?”
She looked into his eyes and saw the malice and hate that burned within him. “No.” She forced herself to not look away. “It’s no trick. Let me send the wolf away and see to John then I’ll take you to the answers. I give you my word.”
Walker set her down roughly. “Will you untie me?” she asked as she turned around.
For a moment he did nothing, then he untied the cord that held her wrists bound. She rubbed the tender flesh as she knelt down in front of Wa’ya. “Thank you for coming to my rescue,” she whispered as she put her arms around his thick neck and pulled his face close to hers. “I need to ask something else of you. Go to Tsa’li and tell him to come to the place where you and I first met. Tell him that I’m bringing Walker.”
Wa’ya gave her a lick on the face then turned and leaped through the broken window. Chance stood up and walked over to John. He was staring at Walker as if he were seeing some sort of monster.
Chance heard a noise outside. A car was coming down the road. She expected it to be the sheriff. “We have to go,” she said as she untied him. “You wait for Tom and tell what happened then have him send for an ambulance. You need to see a doctor.”
�
��Chance, don’t go with him!” John’s voice was a strained whisper as he grabbed her hand.
“I have to.” She cut a look at the window, seeing car lights turning toward the house. “I’ll be fine. Just make sure Graham doesn’t get away and tell Tom what happened.”
John opened his mouth and even moved it but no words emerged. Finally he gave up. “Please,” she implored him. “Do as I ask.”
He nodded but kept his eyes glued on Walker. Chance turned and looked at Walker. “I’m ready.”
“Then show me.”
She gave John one last look then led Walker out of the house. She hoped that Wa’ya understood what she asked and would find Tsa’li, because he was the only one she could think of who would have any idea how to deal with Walker. For her part, all she could do was try help Wyatt find the strength to rise to the surface and take control. If he couldn’t, she had no idea what she’d do.
* * * * *
Greg pushed away from Iris and sat up with his back propped against the headboard. “I don’t know about this,” he said as he reached for the half-empty drink glass on the nightstand. “To begin with, my old man’ll put a bullet through Wolfe’s head the first chance he gets.”
“So let him.” Iris sat up and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “Honey, this will work, trust me.”
Greg shook his head and drained the glass. “Iris, I probably trust you more than anyone I know, but this is getting deep. If we get caught we’ll get the fucking chair.”
“But we won’t get caught. Not if you follow the plan exactly like I told you.”
“You willing to bet your life on it?”
“Absolutely.”
Greg studied her for a long time then got up and refilled the glass, this time omitting the ice and water and pouring bourbon to the rim. He took a long drink and stared at her again. “It might work. But how can you be sure that Wolfe will show up?”
“Leave that to me,” she said with a smile.
Greg smiled and took a big gulp of the drink. “Has anyone ever told you how incredibly beautiful you are when you’re being devious?”