by Pat Cunningham, Savanna Kougar, Rebecca Gillan, Solara Gordon, Serena Shay
Love To the Rescue
ShapeShifter Seductions Presents:
A Flash-Scene Novel
by
Pat Cunningham
Savanna Kougar
Rebecca Gillan
Solara Gordon
Serena Shay
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When Ewan Carter gets kidnapped outside a bar by a group of werewolf hunters, he doesn’t expect to find his mate among his captors.
Maureen Starkey didn’t expect to fall for the handsome coyote-wolf shifter. Neither expected to run into a mad scientist and his mutant mammoth monster.
But it’s just another romantic week in the shapeshifter, supernatural town of Talbot’s Peak, Montana.
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An Action-Adventure Paranormal Romance, on the sensual sweet side, except for the down and dirty cussin’. Shifters and Weres of every type and stripe abound, along with the Supernatural crowd like witches and demi-gods.
But beware! There’s a convergence of Monster Hunters and fearsome vile monsters eyeing those who live in Talbot’s Peak.
Meanwhile, the Tiger Yakuza is vying for control, battling Damien Hancock, the founder of Talbot’s Peak. A werewolf alpha-thug, he is also in competition with his youngest son, Dante, the well-loved owner of the Pleasure Club. To stay in power, Damien funds a brilliant but mid-shift mad scientist.
And watch out if you decide to visit. Maddened beasts lurk in the deep dark forest. They run and hunt in the tall grass prairie as well. And yes, some of them would enjoy you as dinner.
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Copyright © 2014
ShapeShifter Seductions Authors
All rights reserved
SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS
http://shapeshifterseductions.blogspot.com
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Publisher: ShapeShifter Seductions Authors
Cover Artist: Sarah Shogren
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This flash-scene novel has ‘not’ been professionally edited. So, have a good laugh at our expense.
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NOTE: These originally written flash scenes are offered as a free read. HOWEVER, all ‘originally’ written materials featured in this flash fiction novel are protected under copyright. Any use of part or all of this material without the express written permission of the ShapeShifter Seductions’ authors is an infringement of personal creative property and subject to legal action. Any use of this novel for commercial and/or other business purposes, as in offering the book or parts of the book for sale, is prohibited and subject to legal action. Any use of this novel or parts of this flash fiction novel for any manner of media presentation, by any one person or a group of persons is not allowed, and is also subject to legal action.
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This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the authors’ imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental. Except where indicated.
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Dedication
To PBS, which ran a program about the Eastern coyote, or coywolf, which helped my characterization of Ewan immensely. Who says research has to be boring? ~ Pat Cunningham
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Chapter One:
Who Ya Gonna Call?
By Pat Cunningham
Just goes to show, you’re not safe anywhere. One minute Ewan Carter had paused outside the bar to shake an annoying bit of gravel out of his boot, the next somebody yanked a canvas bag over his head, two somebodies grabbed his arms, and he was being hustled into the back of a van. Now, Ewan was a man who liked to see action on a Saturday night, but this was all a tad much.
His nose told him several things: his captors were human, not Tiger Yakuza; he hadn’t smelled them around Talbot’s Peak before; and they’d had a couple slugs at the bar, probably just enough that a public kidnapping seemed like a good idea. One of them tripped against a cycle’s wheel and went, “Darn it!”, which told him they were young and unprofessional as well as mildly drunk. It all added up to college kids on a dare. Them being human and him not, he could probably shake ‘em off with a minimum of fuss, without even having to shift.
He was about to lash out when the one on his left arm crushed in a step closer and his nose let him know she was female. Chivalry checked the elbow he’d been ready to ram into her ribs. Curiosity did the rest. Now why would a bunch of college kids nab a random cowboy outside of Dante’s bar? Confident now he could ditch these puppies any time he wanted, Ewan decided to play along and see what they were up to. Besides, for a Saturday night it had been pretty dull up to now.
However, token resistance did seem called for. The kidnapper on his other arm was male. Ewan hip-slammed him and trod on his foot and knocked his elbow into the monkey’s chin before two more males grabbed hold of him. After that he let himself be man and womanhandled into the van with little fuss.
“Don’t be frightened,” the woman whispered to him as the van sped out of the parking lot. “We’re not going to hurt you. We only want to help.”
“You’d be helping a ton if you took this bag off my head. It stinks to high heaven in here.”
“Forget it,” the male on his other side growled. “You’re not biting anybody, werewolf.”
Game changer. Ewan went still and said very carefully, “Werewolf? What makes you think I’m a werewolf?”
“We know what you people are. We’ve been watching you for weeks.”
And Dante didn’t know? What the hell had happened to security? “Lemme guess. You had one too many Montana Sunsets and you think I’m somebody else.”
“We don’t know or care who you are, other than you’re a werewolf. Once we figure out how they did it, we’ll put a stop to the whole operation.”
“Did what?”
“No talking to the subject!” somebody snapped from up front. The surly male on Ewan’s right fell silent.
Well, scat and a half. This was way worse than college kids, more dangerous than Yakuza. These were cryptozoologists. Amateur cryptozoologists.
The one on his left being female, Ewan figured he’d have a better shot with her. “What’s he talking about?” he whispered at her. “What operation? What’re they up to?”
“The people who turned you into a werewolf,” the woman whispered back. “We know they’ve got this huge underground complex where they experiment on innocent captives.”
“Yeah?” Well, that might be true, as far as it went. Plenty of experimentation went on at the Pleasure Club; that was stone cold fact. Probably not the kind these monkeys were thinking of, or had ever thought of. “So now you’re taking me captive so you can experiment on me?” He added alarm to his voice. “You ain’t gonna butt probe me, are you?”
“We want to help you,” she said earnestly. “We want to find out how they’re changing people, so we can make you human again.” She patted his arm. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. We won’t hurt you, I promise.”
“How’d you find out about us? I mean, the Doctor, he goes all out to hide what he’s up to.”
The murmurs from the front of the vehicle suddenly stopped. He had their attention. Now to see what he could pry loose from them.
“C’mon,” he whined. “You caught me. I’m helpless and all. Somebody tell me what’s going on before I wet myself.”
The man on his right edged away from him. The woman inched closer and tightened her grip. Her breath was hot and excited against the exposed parts of his neck.
“You’ll find out soon enough, when we get where we’re going,” the male up front told him. “Our boss is going to be happ
y to see you. Really, really happy.”
Hired help, then. Okay. That explained the amateur status. Ewan searched the van with nose and ears. He picked out five male voices and six human scents, with an overlay of pizza and fried beef. No gunpowder; they weren’t armed. They might have Tasers. If they thought he was a werewolf, there could be silver knives. Silver didn’t bother a shifter, but a blade was a blade and could be trouble. Until he found out who the boss was, he’d better play it cool.
The woman pressed her bony hip against him. “I’m really sorry about this,” she murmured.
“You and me both.”
“We want to help. We really do.” Her voice dropped even further, nearly into the sultry zone. “You wouldn’t bite me, would you?”
“That’d be deadly,” Ewan said. Especially considering some of the places his mouth had been. “You don’t need to be scared of me. I’m a friendly werewolf. You seen “Twilight”?”
“Seven times.” Chaos help her, she sounded proud of that.
“Team Jacob?”
“Of course.”
Ally. That could come in handy. He could play on that. Pity he’d never seen the movie himself. Well, he’d figure out something. He leaned back and listened to the terse conversations of his captors, mining their words for info. No hint on who their boss was. Didn’t matter. These yahoos were about to find out the only thing more dangerous than a pissed-off wolf was a wolf with enough coyote in him to have a sense of humor.
Chapter Two:
“Should I Accept This Mission,” Dugger Lampooned…
By Savanna Kougar
With a flick of his wrist, Dante sent the tankard of dark ale sliding toward Dugger. “Thanks, mate.” Dugger flashed a ready grin while neatly retrieving the tall mug, then lifting it to his lips for a long taste.
“You ain’t gonna tell this Ewan Carter, are ya?” Dugger leaned an elbow on the bar’s shiny surfaceâ��almost like a bloody mirror. “Just let him dangle like bait, is that the plan?”
A grin glinted in Dante’s gaze before it hit his mouth. The alpha werewolf made himself more comfortable against the pub’s dark-wood bar. “By my reckoning, Ewan’s better off not knowing. Besides, I’m counting on his coyote wiles to keep him out of any real trouble.”
“Should I accept this mission,” Dugger lampooned the infamous “Mission Impossible” saying. He took another swig of the rippin’ good ale, before continuing. “You want me to gather the intel, then report back.”
Dante gave a short nod after tossing back a swallow of his ale. “If there’s any real danger, give Ewan a helping paw.”
“Yeah, mate, I could use the exercise. Gotta keep in top bloomin’ shapeâ��the dingo and the manâ��for the rigors ahead. Enemies to the right of us… enemies to the left of us.”
“Enemies above us. And below us,” Dante growly continued. Raising a hand, he stopped the approach of a server. “Looks like these none-too-smart interlopers are an annoyance, like fleas bitin’ in midsummer.”
“Bugger fleas. Always keep the pennyroyal in my pocket.” Dugger enjoyed making Dante crack a smile. “Want the herbal recipe, mate?”
“I hear Gypsy has her own recipes for the flea bitten among us.” Dante’s gaze turned dangerously serious. He set his tankard on the bar with a back-to-business clank.
Dugger followed suit. “Yeah. Gotta keep our territory tidied up. Never know when it could get downright messy.”
“The bigger shark eats the smaller shark, and we got more trouble than I want,” Dante growled. “From last report, the van should be arriving tonight at my biker bar. Everyone working is onboard with keeping the patrons inside… except Ewan.”
“Righto. I’ll be lurking in the shadows, watchin’, waitin’. Hitch myself a little joy ride.”
“You got mental contact with your mate, Symone?” Dante stated what they both knew.
“Yeah, I’ll send her the images, the intel. Had to talk her out of followin’ with that special rifle of hers. Long as she has instant access to you, mate, we’re right as rain.”
“We’re right as rain, pardner.” Dante reached out gripping Dugger’s shoulder for moments. “Like we discussed, I’ll be hanging with the posse, in case you and Ewan need a rescue team.”
“Appreciate the backup, mate.”
****
As dingo, Dugger peeked around the corner of the biker bar, sniffing the wind. The low-level ratbags he’d been waiting for saturated the air with cheap booze and cheaper pizza. His nose wrinkled of its own accord. Yeah, crikey, the wind-driven odors were stronger than werewolf piss, and their van’s exhaust.
On alert, Dugger crouched into a ready-to-spring position. He was counting on the young whackers being amateur kidnappers with all the speed and senses of a beer-drunk slug. That was the intel Dante had telepathed to him minutes earlier.
Yeah, there. Lights off, the van crept toward the bar’s entrance, but halted like a giant cockroach afraid of the minimal light splashing over the long lineup of Harleys. Hearing Ewan step outside, Dugger snatched his Crocodile Dundee blade between his teeth.
Staying low, he stealthily moved around the corner. With his gaze trained on the action, Dugger watched the scumbags throw the canvas bag over Ewan’s head. At that instant, he raced for the back of the van.
Missing a tangle of legs as the crew wrestled Ewan toward the van, Dugger leapt inside. Righto, barely above age ankle biters! The collection of duffel bags shoved against one side offered the perfect cover.
Dugger sprang over them, quickly burying himself behind the highest part of the pile. While Ewan did his token resistance thing, Dugger twisted into the best position to watch his hapless prey. Staring through the small space between the duffel bags, he scoped out the layout, then focused on his own facial, scent, and voice recognition via good ole brain power.
Yeah, likely college kids on a “Supernatural” slayer-type mission. But who was the bloody blighter conning them?
Dugger listened to Ewan charm up the sheila, one ear pricked for clues that could tell him the identity of the bad bloke or blokes behind scenes. Could be a scumbaggery mad-scientist type involved, no tellin’. Those lunatic buggers were always breaking-bad news. He’d hike leg on them and give a good long piss any day.
Werewolf? So, the minions didn’t own a fancy clue who or what they’d bagged. Dugger tightened his jaws on the blade handle. No use lettin’ anyone get the proper drop on him.
Chapter Three:
Saving People, Hunting Things
By Pat Cunningham
Even though he couldn’t see squat with the bag over his head, Ewan had a pretty good idea where this monkey bunch was taking him. The increasing sound of traffic and the neon lights that flashed in through the windshield confirmed it: they were headed for the commercial strip out by the exit. With a dab of good luck they’d be holed up in the Rocky Top Motel. Dante had a wolf named Hoover, he of the miraculous nose, stationed at the front desk there. If Ewan could get word to him, Hoover could tell Dante what these yutzes were up to. That’d put a crimp in their plans.
If his luck ran sour, they’d drive their van up the exit and onto the interstate and off to parts unknown. Then he’d be well and truly up the fabled Scat Creek, with no outboard.
Tonight Chaos favored him. The van slowed, made a careful turn and rattled its way through what Ewan guessed was a parking lot before it came to a stop. Game time. If this was their lair, he could work on getting some answers. If it was just a gas stop, he’d have to make a break for it. Either way, he intended to toy with these apes before he hightailed it for home. The wolf in him might want to attack, but the coyote in him overruled it. No coyote worth the name ever turned down a chance to punk a human.
The male pinning his right arm abruptly ripped the canvas bag off his head. Ewan gulped what passed for fresh air on a busy strip of highway. His eyes adjusted and showed him the back end of a long, two-story motel. Enough willing ladies had smuggled him into their rooms
for him to recognize the Rocky Top.
“You listen good, monster,” the man snarled. “You’re gonna walk up those steps and into that room and not give us any trouble. You so much as say boo and I got a silver knife with your name on it.”
“You got me a gift? Damn sweet of you. Hope you spelled my name right. Can I have it wrapped to go?”
The goon stared blankly at him. The woman on his other arm tittered. Ewan swung his head thataway for a look at his possible ally.
About what he’d expected, given the company she kept. Battered sneakers, baggy jeans and a T-shirt with a whale on it, all hanging off a body that’d make a skeleton look pudgy. She had a soft face behind round, owlish glasses. Her hair was chopped short, its color hard to tell under parking lot lights but probably in the brown family. If she had any tits under that shirt, he couldn’t find them. She did have a nice, tight caboose though, so it wasn’t a total loss.
The others piled out of the van and circled him like hyenas. They linked arms and caged him in their middle. In this manner they walked him down the narrow inside hallway, while his new lady friend scooted ahead to open the door. Anybody wandering past would take them for a pack of frat boys staggering home from a bar crawl. In a group they lurched into the room.
And what a room it was, exactly what Ewan expected. His new buddies had added their own special touches to the room’s décor, with maps, newspaper clippings, website printouts and grainy black-and-white video stills Scotch-taped over every square inch, including the paintings bolted to the walls and the mirror on the closet door. The subject matter all related to the alien, the paranormal, the weird. All it needed was an “I Want to Believe” poster tacked up over the bed.
Three laptops were crowded onto a circular vinyl table, one with a Bigfoot screensaver, another with a sticker of a big-eyed, big-headed alien giving the Vulcan salute. And, of course, the empty pizza boxes. Ewan would have been sorely disappointed if he hadn’t seen at least one.
His surly buddy from the van shoved him onto the bed, where two of his partners swooped in to bind Ewan’s wrists to the headboard. “Kinky,” Ewan said. “Who wants me first?”