Outfoxed: A Zodiac Shifters Paranormal Romance: Gemini

by Melissa Snark

  "Nothing—absolutely nothing—is going to stop me from protecting you. That bastard tried to enslave you. He has to die, so you can be free..." He faltered and then continued with great difficulty. "Am I reading this wrong? Do you care for him?"

  "No!" She crossed and uncrossed her arms. "I hate him. I'd kill him myself if I was strong enough. But this is too much to ask of you."

  "I love you. You're everything I have worth living for. You're my song now." Silver framed her hand in his strong, elegant hands and wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

  "You can't love me. You don't even know me."

  "I know you here." He touched his chest over his heart where the five-line staff was empty, the space reserved his lifemate. "The only way for you to be free is for him to die."

  "Would I be free? Or would I belong to you?" Hannah despised the insidious doubt that poisoned her heart, but she could no more deny it than she could her deepest desire for a life without bonds of any sort.

  "Is that what you think of me?" A tremor wracked Silver's athletic frame, a physical manifestation of his emotional turmoil.

  "Silver, you're a good, kind man. I believe that—I know it. But I also know you want a mate bond with me. I can't go straight from one lifemate to another without a break. I need space."

  "Then I'll give you space. As much time as you need," Silver croaked in a rough voice. He turned his face aside, she suspected, struggling to hold back tears.

  She hated herself for breaking his heart.

  The overly loud ring of her phone startled them both. Together, they turned toward the device which sat on the nightstand. On reflex, Hannah stretched her arm out and snatched it with a sharp tug that disconnected it from the charger.

  The caller ID read Nick Nash.

  Hannah traded a troubled glance with Silver. She stabbed accept and then put the call on speakerphone. Unable to keep the weariness from her voice, she asked, "What is it, Nick?"

  "Hannah, your sister showed up with the Russians on her tail. They shot the place up. I'm really sorry. There was nothing I could do to stop them. Your grandmother—"

  "My grandmother?" Hannah repeated faintly. Dread filled her. The entire world dropped out from beneath her feet, leaving her in free fall. Distantly, she was aware of Silver holding her steady.

  "Your granny's been shot."

  "Shot? How bad? Nick, you have to get her to a hospital—"

  "Don't be stupid. I'm not taking a swan-shifter to a human hospital."

  Hannah bared her teeth but aborted the urge to argue. She hated it, but Nick was right. As a whole, shifters lacked a formal legal code, but they all followed certain common sense rules. First and foremost, their existence had to remain a secret from the rest of humanity. Their survival depended on secrecy.

  "Grab a pen and write this down. We're at Alcona Stadium. Thirteen-fourteen Ballantine Drive. Did you get that?" Nick barked the information at her with the brusque cruelty she expected of him.

  "Alcona Stadium. Thirteen-fourteen Ballantine Drive. I don't know where that is. I don't think I've ever heard of it," Hannah said, panicking because she didn't have either pen or paper handy. In her current state, she was terrified she'd forget the address. Nick, being the asshole he was, wouldn't repeat it. She twisted and turned, groping the sheets for writing implements that couldn't possibly be there.

  Silver caught her shoulders. He whispered into her ear. "It's okay. I know where it is. I'll take you."

  Trembling, she met her lover's gaze. His calm soothed her, so she stopped shaking. "I'm leaving now but it'll be at least an hour. I'm not in the city."

  "She's dying, Hannah. You'd better hurry."

  "You'd better pray she doesn't, Nick, or you'll be joining her."

  Chapter Sixteen

  They got stuck in hellacious traffic on the return drive from Montecito to Los Angeles. All southbound lanes languished at a dead crawl. In the driver's seat, Silver hunched with both hands wrapped tightly around the wheel. Hannah sat in the passenger seat.

  They were alone because none of the other members of the band, except Ursula, had been around after the phone call with Nick. Given the urgency of the matter—Bonita's life threatening injury—Hannah and Silver hadn't been able to spare the time to wait. Branwen had claimed she hadn't had enough time to finish the counterfeit so that plan had been abandoned. They'd recovered the original box from Branwen and left while Ursula and Branwen stayed behind to round up the others. Once they were together, they'd follow.

  Hannah was sick with anxiety and rage. She clutched the stupid little box between her hands and quelled the impulse to hurl it at the front windshield. If the cursed thing cost Bonita her life, Hannah swore she'd smash it to smithereens.

  "We should've taken my motorcycle," Silver said, breaking the forbidding silence. He radiated tension, his frame strung taut.

  "Coulda, shoulda, woulda... Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. You had no way of knowing we'd run into gridlock," Hannah said, even though she agreed with him. Borrowing a car from Ursula for the return trip had turned out to be a huge mistake. On Silver's motorcycle, they could've just driven down the center line between two lanes, bypassing the jam altogether. She saw no point in casting blame, however, because it accomplished nothing.

  "Have you been able to get that thing open?" Silver asked, an abrupt change of subject, probably to avoid arguing over what they couldn't control.

  "No." In a fit of frustration, Hannah turned the damn rune box over and over, searching for the means to open it. It had a lid—a clean line bisected the cap from the main body—but no visible hinges or clasp and absolutely no give. Near as she could tell, there was no way to pry the twin halves apart. "It's impossible and that's coming from someone who's never met a lock she couldn't pick. I'm starting to think it's just a solid block that's been carved to look like an actual chest."

  Silver grunted. "Maybe it's magical."

  "Maybe." She really had no way of knowing or even making the determination. Her own innate magic manifested as extraordinary stealth and an unusual affinity for evading traps and circumventing security measures.

  "I'd love to give it a try. Wish there was more time." Silver spared the box a frustrated glance and then reached for his cell phone, which sat on the center console. He swiped the screen with his thumb to remove the screensaver. The device lacked even the most basic security.

  She winced but bit her tongue. Once this was all over, and everyone was safe and sound, she'd set up his phone's password. She sat up to shove the box into her coat pocket. When she straightened, a sharp, stabbing pain radiated through her back, centered in the muscles beneath her shoulder blades.

  Silver studied the screen. "I've got a text from Gretchen."

  "What's it say?" Hannah held her breath while he read. Their lives depended on whether the Grimm Reaper of Los Angeles would drop everything on a dime and respond to their crisis. Silver had way more faith in the hunter than Hannah did, but she’d kept her doubts private. No good came of insulting his scary-powerful friend, and she didn't want to jinx it.

  "She's coming. She has the address and she's coming!" His voice smiled, lifted on a high note of relief.

  "Thank the gods." Hannah exhaled and then jumped when the car behind them blasted its horn to let them know a small gap had opened in front of them.

  "Asshole." Silver inched another few feet but then came to an immediate halt when the vehicle in front of them stopped. He ground his teeth, an awful pulverizing crunch. Hannah winced and jerked her head to the side, glancing over at him. He clutched the wheel with one hand, and white-knuckled the gear shift with the other.

  "This is my fault. All of it," Silver grated out in a sudden harsh outburst. He bowed his head, hunching toward the steering wheel. Anger soured his scent, adding a charred element. He smelled like shame and sorrow.

  "What are you talking about?" She knit her brow in consternation.

  "It's my fault your grandmother is hurt. If I hadn't
taken that damn box from you, you'd have taken it back to Balthazar. Your grandmother would be free and none of this would be happening."

  "No." Hannah rejected the notion outright, a flat adamant refusal. "Don't do that to yourself. The only people who deserve blame are the bad guys."

  "You don't hate me?" He glanced over at her, and his face was pallid with soul sickness, the capacity for empathy that only a good person possessed the ability to feel. He expressed his true emotions with the same naked honesty he brought to his music.

  "No, Silver, no." She blinked, shedding tears. She covered his hand, pinning him to the gearshift. "I think I'm falling for you."

  "But you're not sure?"

  "There's just too much going on. I'm so confused..." She dropped her gaze, fixating on their joined hands which seemed so right. The most perfect thing in the universe. But between fear and worry for her grandmother and sister, she wondered whether her feelings were real or the result of the stressful circumstances they'd been thrust into. She mistrusted her own judgement when it came to romance, too, which didn't help. Years ago, she'd made bad choices that still shackled her.

  Traffic moved another few yards. Up ahead, the reason for the delay finally came into view: a multi-car accident blocked the two left lanes. Police cars buffered the disabled vehicles being loaded onto tow trucks, and everyone on the highway was being forced to merge right.

  "Fallen," Silver said with absolute conviction.

  Startled, she jerked her face up. His soulful gaze was steady with conviction. It took her a second to process what he'd said, what it meant, but once she did a flush of pure pleasure crept over her. She desperately wanted to believe with all her heart that he was The One, her perfect match. She wished she possessed the confidence necessary to say "I love you" in return. She owed him an answer, but she didn't know what to say. Worse, she seemed to be struck mute, her tongue tied, especially on her unwillingness to lie to him. In her book, false declarations of devotion were worse than silence.

  The quiet dragged on too long, and a glimmer of disappointment shone in Silver's eyes. He looked away and then they were past the merging point. All four lanes opened up and traffic accelerated like a horserace breaking from the gates. The rest of the trip proceeded lickety-split as though fate sought to make up lost time. By unspoken mutual consent, Silver and Hannah kept further conversation to a bare minimum. Probably for the best, since the middle of a crisis wasn't the greatest time to discuss sensitive feelings.

  The sun had reached and passed its zenith when they turned onto Ballantine Drive. A patch of gravel served as the purported parking lot of Alcona Stadium and beyond it, an empty field full of weeds and garbage stretched for several miles. Based on the heaps of rubbish, the area looked to serve as an illegal dumping ground.

  "Are we lost?" Scowling, Hannah climbed from the car and craned her neck, surveying their surroundings. Either Silver was out of his mind or this was the worst joke ever.

  "No, we're in the right place." Silver coughed, clearing his throat, and rounded the vehicle to join her. "Alcona Stadium is protected by a glamour that's designed to allow shifters to pass and keep humans out. You'll see once we get closer."

  "Okay." She tried to conceal her skepticism and was positive she failed.

  "You're not a sports fan, huh?" Silver asked, sounding excessively amused at her expense. She didn't appreciate it at all.

  "No, I hate sports. What's that got to do with anything?"

  "Alcona Stadium is home to most shifter sporting in Southern California." Silver placed his hand against the small of her back, urging her toward the heart of the field. Reluctantly, she followed his lead. She really didn't want to tromp through the wet, muddy meadow, but at least she had on decent shoes. Her current outfit of a blouse, jeans, and sneakers was courtesy of clothing borrowed from Branwen, who was pretty much Hannah's size.

  "Shifter sporting... I swear, this had better not be your idea of a joke," Hannah grumbled and then stumbled. She would've landed flat on her face except Silver grabbed her elbow.

  "No joke." He raised his hand, indicating the structure that had appeared before them out of thin air.

  Across the wide expanse of a paved parking lot, an enormous white arena soared several stories high. Its architecture mirrored a Roman colosseum down to the immense columns, arches, and domes. The white marble facade shone like polished ivory. The whole thing was too massive, too ostentatious, and too extraordinary.

  "It can't be real." Hannah started toward the structure, hurrying her pace even though they were heading straight into an ambush. No doubt about it. With the threat to her grandmother's life, she perceived no other choice for herself.

  Silver, though, had options.

  "Maybe not." Silver rolled his shoulders in a fluid shrug. "I wouldn't be surprised if the whole thing is an illusion," he added in a tone that invited questions. Before she asked, his phone buzzed to signal the receipt of a text message. He stopped to check and she lingered, pensively eyeing the entrance to the stadium.

  "This is a trap, Silver. You know that, don't you?"

  He glanced up, parting his sensual lips in surprise. "Yeah, that's obvious. The text was from Ursula. She got everyone rounded up. They're on their way."

  "You can leave." She raised empty hands. "I won't hold it against you. I promise."

  "No fucking way." Anger hardened his features, casting his face to a stony mask. "I'm not leaving you," he said, low and dangerous. "Ever."

  She trembled in the grip of something mysterious and profound, a feeling so uncanny she couldn't even put a name to it. Hannah bit the inside of her mouth. He made her weak, he gave her strength, he confused the fuck out of her—

  "We have company." Silver made a quick gesture. Hannah stiffened and looked in the direction he'd indicated.

  Within the stadium entrance, Nick waited with his arms crossed. His posture conveyed casual arrogance. Sublime confidence. Eight armed guards flanked him; four to either side. Hannah recognized at least half of them as coyote-shifters, members of Nick's band, who she knew by name. The others, however, were unknown to her.

  "Whatever happens—trust me." Torn between the desire to make it a command and a plea, Hannah bit out the terse declaration.

  "I trust you," Silver responded without hesitation. His automatic response emboldened her. Together, supporting one another, they could accomplish anything.

  "Are you ready for this?" Hannah asked from the side of her mouth. She started forward. A part of her clung to the hope that Silver would change his mind and turn back, but it wasn't more than wistful thinking. He was right there beside her every step of the way.

  "I was born ready."

  "Sure you were." Despite everything, she grinned.

  "Look at that. Happy to see me, aren't you, baby?" Blithely oblivious, Nick offered up the same charming smile she'd once found irresistible.

  "I'm not even close to happy," Hannah shot back. Moths of sickness fluttered in her stomach but she shoved the anxiety down deep. It was game time. "Where's my grandmother?"

  "Inside," Nick said, appraising Silver. Nick's upper lip lifted in a sneer, revealing his elongated canines. "Who the hell is this asshole?"

  "Name's Silver." Silver reared to meet the other male's unspoken challenge. He bared his glistening teeth and a snarl rolled from his throat. Across his forearms, the skin rippled over muscle as a precursor to the change. The air reeked with testosterone.

  Men. Their preoccupation with each other presented her with an opportunity, though. While Nick was distracted, Hannah strode past him. Two of his goons, both members of his band, blocked her path. She headed straight for them, walking as though she meant to commit murder. Nick would've ordered his followers not to hurt her, though, for no other reason than any harm done to her would hurt Nick as well.

  "Get out of my way." Her demand resonated, diffusing through the empathic connection that tied her to the rest of Nick's coyote band. They weren't as hierarchal wolve
s, but dominance still carried weight. The male coyotes stepped aside.

  "Hold up a sec." Nick caught hold of her elbow. "We're going to search you before you go in." His scent spiked on a musky spray of arousal, and a blasé sentiment filled her head—of course, a woman's threats and attitude turned him on. No doubt, visions of subduing and subjugating her danced in his head. Sick bastard.

  Hannah dropped her gaze to where his hand shackled her arm and then looked up to meet his eyes. If his guards searched her, they'd find and confiscate the Glock she had tucked into her coat pocket. Across the mate bond, she asserted her will against his in a way he couldn't possibly ignore.

  "Let go or you're going to lose that hand. No one is searching me."

  In a silent struggle, Nick countered her through the mate bond. He pressed. She shoved him back. After a conspicuous delay, he released her. Backing down cost Nick respect with the members of his band. The other coyote-shifters sneered and traded disgusted glances.

  "Ed, Tyler, search him," Nick barked with a sneer, pointing at Silver. His goons stood there, provoking Nick to shout at the top of his lungs. "I said search him!"

  After another delay, a couple of the guards finally moved toward Silver but at a noticeably sluggish speed. While Hannah savored Nick's humiliation, the delay left her fidgeting. She begrudged every second that kept her from her grandmother's side.

  The frisk turned up a number of items and soon the guards' hands were so full they each discarded a fistful of junk. Coins rolled away unremarked, and a roll of condoms fluttered to the ground.

  "Hey, I need those," Silver protested. His quip set the others to snickering like adolescent boys, but Nick's face darkened to plum-red.

  "Has he got anything?" Nick asked. From his malicious expression, he was just looking for an excuse to have Silver beaten.

  "He's got drumsticks, lock picks, guitar string, a phone. No weapons." Ed displayed two fistfuls of Silver's possessions.

  Scowling, Nick glared at Silver.