"You didn't need saving," Silver muttered in a disbelieving voice. He grasped her head with gentle hands, running his fingers over her scalp. "Did you hit your head?"
"Stop the van!" With a frustrated snarl, she knocked the coyote's hands aside.
"Stop the van?" The male driver squawked in an Australian accent. For a split second, the van swerved and slowed.
"Don't stop!" Silver yelled.
"You have to stop and let me out." Hannah infused her tone with all the authority she could muster in the hopes of influencing the driver.
"Fuck! Stop. Don't stop. Which is it?" the Australian demanded, craning his head to stare into the back.
"We're not stopping." The real voice of authority came from a man in the passenger seat whom she hadn't noticed before.
"Right. Not stopping." The Aussie punched the gas and the van sped on.
"You've got no right to keep me against my will." Hannah directed her words to the men in the front seats.
"Maybe not, but we are anyway so I suggest you learn to deal with it." The guy in the passenger seat twisted around to stare into the back. He had short hair, an athletic build, and radiated a definitive air of command. This, she decided, must be the band's leader.
"Disco, don't be an ass," Silver snapped.
"I'm the asshole?" Disco's penetrating gaze speared Silver. "You're the idiot who got us into this mess—rescuing a woman who obviously doesn't want to be rescued. All I'm doing is damage control, like I always do. If we stop and we're being followed, someone could get shot. Those guys were serious trouble, Silver. Did you see their guns?"
"I was in the back. I couldn't see anything," Silver's tone turned distinctly sullen. He bristled in a way that made it easy to imagine his ruff rising if he'd been in his coyote form. Just the random thought invited speculation. She wanted to know what he looked like fully shifted.
"Yeah, well I could." Disco turned forward facing, effectively ending the conversation.
She fully expected Silver to argue, but he stayed silent. The brief exchange left her more confused than ever. She'd started out thinking Disco was the band's leader, but he and Silver talked to each other like brothers. Either way, it was clear they were in agreement on the one issue that mattered to her: neither male wanted to stop the van to let her out. Of course, she could make a break for it, but the prospect of throwing herself from a moving van held no appeal. Not to mention, she would have to get past both Silver and his friends first. No, she deemed her best bet was to watch, bide her time, and be ready to seize on the first opportunity that presented.
She hated waiting.
Fuming, Hannah sank cross-legged and leaned her back against the side of the van. The man who'd closed the sliding door sat across from her. She glanced over at him in quick appraisal. He had wavy blond hair that fell to his shoulders and blue eyes. Physically, the silent werewolf was larger than his companions. The exposed skin of his throat, what she could see of it, bore horrible burn marks. She had no reason to think the scarring ended at the neckline of his shirt. He met her gaze and attempted a friendly smile.
She smiled in return because it wasn't the poor guy's fault he'd gotten dragged into this. None of Silver's bandmates had any reason to believe they'd been doing anything other than rescuing her. No, all the blame once again landed squarely on Silver. The jerk's constant meddling in her affairs had once again worsened her situation. Marcus Malkin would assume she'd run from him and his men... and Fiona would pay the price.
When Silver settled beside her, Hannah ignored him.
"Hey." He brushed his hand against hers in a bid for attention.
"Don't touch me." She scooted as far away as the cargo area allowed. After that, he left her alone, but his sad stare weighed on her.
The drive took forever. Hannah stayed committed to her sullen silence for five minutes before she got antsy. Another ten minutes passed... The van sped along the dark Los Angeles streets, making seemingly random turns and, more than once, doubling back. It took her longer than it should've to understand the evasive route was designed to identify and throw off anyone who might've been trailing them. Her estimate of the Australian driver rose, though grudgingly.
She refused to acknowledge Silver, so she directed her attention to the hulking werewolf who sat across from her. Aside from that tentative smile, he still hadn't said one word yet. Shoving her frustration down deep, she mustered a friendly smile.
"Hi, I'm Vixen." She waited.
The big guy met her gaze. That shy smile returned, but he didn't offer a greeting or his name. She started to wonder if he was mute because of the terrible scars.
"That's Cheyenne. He doesn't talk much but he can when he needs to." Silver supplied in answer to her unasked question. He gestured toward the front of the van, signaling out the driver. "That's Oz."
"G'day. Sorry about kidnapping you, love. We thought we were doing the right thing." Oz raised his hand but kept his attention on the road.
"Ah..." She choked on accepting the apology even though the Australian sounded genuinely sorry. Maybe due to the fact that she was still being held against her will... Yeah, that probably had something to do with it. For an instant, she believed she'd convinced Oz to pull over and let her go. But the forward motion of the vehicle dismissed her delusions.
"And that's Disco." Silver pointed to the man in the passenger seat.
Disco grunted and glanced back. He frowned at Silver and then shifted his attention to Hannah. Through gritted teeth, he said, "I'm sorry we unwittingly abducted you."
"Great. Apology accepted. Just pull over and let me out here, and we'll say all's forgiven." She talked fast. The whole screwy situation made her itchy with its awkwardness. The really fucked up thing was that she actually believed these guys were serious about their good intensions gone awry. They had the bon vivant aura of musicians and misfits, not violent criminals.
"No." Silver flat out refused and not one of his band mates argued with the declaration. It sent a clear message—she only had one clear way out. Escape.
When the van turned right into a motel parking lot, her lips parted in mute aggression. They'd returned to the band's hideout, so to speak—their hole-in-the-wall motel. As they came to a full stop, Cheyenne hauled the sliding door open. While he still had his back to her, Hannah seized the opening. She lunged and shot past the werewolf. Behind her, a bellowed warning sounded from Silver.
She hit the pavement running but only crossed a few yards before a hand seized hold of her upper arm. Silver yanked her around so fast her head spun. The inertia broke his grip. Freed again, she bounded forward only to run straight into Cheyenne's barrel-shaped chest. The impact knocked her back but didn't even budge him an inch.
Baring her teeth, she snarled at Cheyenne. He held up his hands but didn't move. Backing away, she eyed him, estimating her chances—which she put as slim to none. Might as well try to move a mountain. When he flashed that sweet, guileless smile, she abandoned all further thoughts of violence.
Car doors opened and slammed shut.
She swerved and charged around Cheyenne only to have Disco step into her path. He spread his arms wide. When she darted aside, he sidled over to stay in front of her. She went the other way—he moved with her. She sprang straight up and over him but when she landed, Silver barred her path.
Hannah spun on her heel and took three steps only to come up against Disco. She veered left and Oz blocked her. Releasing a growl of resentment, she dodged in a random direction and found Disco before her. She turned and turned, but they had her surrounded. A howl of frustration built in her chest and erupted as a ferocious growl. She skidded to a halt. Head bowed, fists clenched, she breathed hard and contemplated her limited options. The world whirled, but it had to be the result of her flawed perception. It came to a full stop.
Silver loomed over her. She tilted back her head and looked up. His face was set in a mask of dangerous determination that sent shivers down her spine. It radiated
from his skin in a palpable wave. She took a step back before she caught herself.
"You're not leaving," he said.
Her chin jutted in automatic rebellion. "Get out of my way, Silver. I am leaving. If I have to go through you to do it..."
"Not without this you won't." Silver raised his hand, showing off the rune box, held high and behind him so it was out of her reach. He must've pilfered it from her pocket, although she had no idea when or how.
"Give that back!" Hannah lunged, grabbing for the box, but he caught hold of her arm and held her at bay. She pressed against him, but he was stronger. Locked together, they shuffled in a cruel game of keep away.
"No, not until you talk to me." Silver shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth and then set her down hard on her feet.
The abrupt motion jarred her and Hannah bit her tongue. As blood filled her mouth, she winced and glowered at him. What a dilemma. She couldn't physically overpower Silver and his friends. On a mean streak, she gave serious consideration to drawing the Glock in her pocket. Trouble was, she wouldn't shoot Silver—or anyone else for that matter—who didn't mean her real harm. Empty threats would be worse than standing around arguing and getting nowhere. She'd look like a fool.
Reasoning with him promised to be the best bet. The only thing was his motivations constituted a total mystery to her. They'd slept together: a scalding hot, immensely satisfying hookup but also utterly meaningless. Any normal guy would've been grateful to watch her and all her problems walk out the door. Of course, Silver was a coyote-shifter and his reasons for pursuing her were obvious. She'd seduced him and bitten him. A mating mark construed an open invitation. She had no one to blame for this mess but herself.
Breathing hard, she beseeched him, "Damn it, why are you doing this to me? I need that. This is life or death. People are depending on me. I told you that."
"You're in trouble and you need help. That's why I'm doing this."
She stared at him in patent disbelief. Then, with cutting sarcasm she drawled, "Funny, you don't fit my idea of a hero. Heroes don't handcuff you and throw you to the bad guys so they can make a clean getaway."
He flushed, chagrin on his face. "Look, this may be too little too late—"
"It is. Not interested."
He set in a stance of stubborn determination and kept talking. "I'm sorry. When the alarm went off, instinct kicked in and I ran. It was a shitty thing to do."
"Yeah it was." She refused to cut him any slack.
"And I'm sorry." Silver scowled, sorrowful not angry, and damnation, the guy was a hell of an actor. His sad puppy-dog eyes melted her heart and her defenses.
"It's okay. We're strangers. I'd have done the same thing if our situations were reversed." The second she finished, Hannah jerked, wondering what the hell it was she'd just said. Had she heard that right? No woman in her right mind fell for such an obvious sob story.
"Would you really?" Silver asked with a skeptical edge.
"No, but I probably couldn’t hold a grudge if I tried." She would never have slept with him if she harbored any long-term plans for revenge. Stealing the box back from him had been a blast. And their tryst... she would be lying through her teeth if she'd claimed to regret it. No, her real anger stemmed from frustration and fear for the lives of her family and herself. It had nothing to do with him.
"How about taking that one step further?" Silver engaged her with an easy smile. When he turned on the charm, the man could sweet talk the tail off a fox. She had better stay on her guard lest she lose hers.
"What do you want?" She crossed her arms over her breasts.
"Give me a second chance. Let me help you."
"You can't help me and even if you could, I don't trust you."
More than anything, she wanted to believe him, but conmen never kept their promises. The temptation to believe them was immense but it was a divide she couldn't quite cross. Hell, her own father had taught her this lesson the hard way, reinforced it over and over. Guys like Silver were convincing, even well intentioned, silver-tongued but unreliable. Not to be trusted. She could forgive Silver for having run out on her, but she would never forget.
"I don't want to force you," Silver said and Hannah flinched. He paused and stared, studying her intently. "I didn't want to be a hard ass about this, but you're not giving me any other choice. I have the box. You're not getting it back until you at least agree to talk to me."
"All you're going to succeed in doing is getting yourself and your friends killed. Give me the box back. Let me go. Please?" Begging destroyed her pride and pissed her off. She fisted her hands, quelling the relentless desire to pummel him. Damn it, Fiona's and her grandmother's lives hung in the balance.
"No."
"My grandmother's life is in danger. My life is in danger because you had to be an asshole and handcuff me and then leave me." Hannah dashed aside angry tears. Pressure built within her till she expected to explode any second. Vindictively, she vented her frustration and fury on Silver. "Malkin figured out who I am because of you. So do us both a favor and do the right thing now."
"I'm an asshole. I know I made things worse for you. I've got to help you—make up for this somehow." The look on his face—the way the muscles worked—screamed soul sickness. As unlikely and improbable as it seemed, the guy clearly had a conscience. Mentally, she crossed her fingers and held her breath, clinging to the hope he'd see reason and hand the rune box over.
A raucous cry fell from above. Startled, they all looked up. A raven the size of a hawk dropped out of the sky toward them. Disco threw his arm up and the bird latched onto his forearm with its talons. Hannah had never seen a raven-shifter up close before but she recognized the corvid as one.
"That's Branwen. She's ours." Silver's lyrical voice filled Hannah's ear.
"How—" Hannah spun only to discover Silver so close that she bridled in resentment. She threw up her head and drew in her chin.
"Talk to me. Tell me the whole story and maybe I can help you."
She glared. "If I do, will you give it back?"
He nodded.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
"Fine," she said, fuming. "But if someone I love gets killed because of your interference, I'll make you pay."
"Deal." He smiled in triumph.
Chapter Ten
"Hey, guys? I hate to interrupt but can you two lovebirds spare a sec?" Branwen sliced smoothly through their reverie.
Startled, Silver performed a double take as the outside world intruded on his awareness. He tore his gaze from Hannah and glanced over at Branwen. He hadn't noticed when she'd changed shape. The raven-shifter wore Disco's camouflage jacket draped over her shoulders, and nothing beneath it. The bass guitarist hovered behind her, gazing down on her. Over beside the van, Cheyenne closed the sliding side door they'd left standing open. Leaning against the fender, Oz fidgeted and smoked a joint.
"Every second I waste matters." Tossing her hair, Hannah turned away, giving him the cold shoulder. She faced the others with hardened suspicion. Even though she was surrounded and outnumbered, she didn't show even a hint of fear. Her dauntless courage impressed the hell out of him.
"Work with me. It won't be a waste." Silver let her go reluctantly. He wanted to gather her in his arms—keep her close and safe. Her attitude screamed hands off, so he kept his distance.
"Vixen, this is Branwen. Branwen, Vixen." He swished his hand between the two women. He hadn't missed the fact that Hannah had chosen to introduce herself with a handle. It wasn't a problem. Every member of the band went by a stage name and most of them had more than one alias.
"Hey." Hannah fidgeted with obvious impatience over the formalities, but at least she wasn't running in the opposite direction.
"Hi! Nice to meet you. I'm sorry to be short, but can we head inside to talk? I'm freezing my tail feathers off here." Branwen shuffled her bare feet across the frosted asphalt, hopping from one foot to the other.
"Here.
Step back." Disco's hands framed Branwen's shoulder as he guided her to stand on top of his boots. She trembled and complied, pressing her back against his chest. His arms surrounded her—and her shivering subsided.
The pair was so damn intimate but conflicted. They made everyone around them uncomfortable. Cheyenne averted his gaze, and Oz dug out another joint and lit it off his last.
Silver stifled a snort. Disco was a fucking idiot. The guy had himself tied into knots over the raven-shifter, but he refused to do anything about it. Still, Silver considered the matter none of his damn business. He turned to Hannah.
"Are you okay with heading inside?"
"I don't know." A ripple ran through Hannah; tension thrummed through her lean frame. Indecision played across her beautiful face: run or stay. He quashed the desire to reach for her because he suspected the act of restraining her would push her in the opposite direction. She had to choose for herself.
"Branwen's always cold. Birds aren't warm-blooded, you know," Silver said to buy her time. He offered up a toothy grin, engaging the others.
Chuckles ran through the band except for Branwen. She scowled in mock disgust. "Birds are warm-blooded, idiot."
The others laughed and then another barrage of quips and insults flew, allowing Hannah the opportunity to make her decision. Hazing was their norm. The teasing was never mean, and an undercurrent of fond affection always accompanied the banter.
"All right, let's go inside," Hannah muttered with a heavy sigh.
"You won't regret it. I promise," Silver said.
"I already do," the vixen shot back.
The walk from the parking lot to the motel room only took a couple of minutes. They gathered in the room Branwen shared with Ursula. The suite was a standard double occupancy with an attached bathroom. With the seven of them crowded into the confines, it was tight.
While Branwen dressed, Silver tried to introduce Hannah to Ursula, the final member of the band, but the werebear interrupted with a hearty chuckle.
Outfoxed: A Zodiac Shifters Paranormal Romance: Gemini Page 9