“Watch the fucking road, asshole,” he growled. “What the hell is going on? Shouldn’t we be on the highway by now?”
“We are, but the things these yokels around here call roads are nothing more than fucking goat tracks,” Will snapped. “This is a major fucking interstate artery, and the goddamned thing’s barely two lanes wide. Shit, if this is what they call a highway, you can forget all about a smooth ride. You want one of those, you’ll have to get it from the bitch.”
He sneered over his shoulder, his gaze raking across Renny’s half-naked form. Geoffrey had already managed to tear off her shirt and slice through her bra with a wickedly sharp pocketknife. Scraps of fabric dangled from her elbows, because once he had her breasts exposed, he seemed uninterested in finishing the job.
The alpha coyote chuckled evilly. “I don’t care if it’s smooth or rough, but she might.” He leered down at her, pressing the tip of the blade against her bare chest. “Or maybe you like it rough, sweetheart. What do you say? You get hot when your ‘mate’ slaps you around a little?”
She spit in his face. “Unlike you, Mick doesn’t have to kidnap and rape a girl to get her to touch him. I wanted him from the first time I set eyes on him. You? You made me throw up in my mouth a little.”
Renny half expected him to backhand her again, but instead he drove a solid fist to her belly, knocking the wind right out of her. She choked and gasped for air.
“You might want to watch your mouth, bitch, before I find a way to silence it,” he bit out, looming over her. “No one said I have to fuck your cunt first.”
She actually whimpered and immediately hated herself for it. She was not some stupid fucking damsel in distress who would swoon and beg for mercy while her virtue was brutally stolen from her. This was not a 1970s bodice-ripper romance. This was her life, and she would damned well survive anything this motherfucker could dish out.
Pride and determination had her baring her teeth and letting her fangs descend. “Go ahead,” she hissed. “Try shoving your dick in my mouth, you asshole. I double-dog dare you.”
He woofed and attacked the fastening on her jeans.
“Oh, shit!”
The shout was the only warning they got before the van made a sharp, unplanned ninety-degree turn.
“What the fuck!” Geoffrey shouted.
The good news was that he shouted it from the other side of the van. The sudden motion had thrown him off of her before he got her jeans much past her hips and hurled him against the back of the driver’s seat. The knife skittered out of his hand and across the floor. Renny immediately threw herself toward it.
It didn’t have quite the effect she would have gotten had she been able to actually use her arms and legs to launch herself. Instead, it wound up less like a surge of motion and more like a desperate, semi-humiliating wiggle. She probably looked more like a beached whale than a graceful, lethal wolf, but she could care less. She needed that knife.
“Incoming!”
Will shrieked the warning too late.
The rear doors of the van practically exploded outward, wrenched open by the most terrifyingly gorgeous thing Renny had ever laid eyes on. Her mate loomed in the opening, seven solid feet of hard-packed muscle. She had never seen a lupine in wereform up close, had never tried to assume the shape herself, and it took her breath away.
Thick, dark fur covered his body from head to toes, longer on his head, neck, and shoulders, almost like a wolf’s ruff, plush and short on his chest and belly. His features appeared not remotely human, his face elongated into a wolfish snout with a full set of predator’s gleaming fangs. Only his eyes remained vaguely human, still blue and piercing and filled with so much rage and violence, she almost backed away from him herself.
“Motherfucker!”
Out of the corner of her eye, Renny saw Will in the front seat diving for his rifle, but he never touched it. Instead of moving forward, his body flew backward out the driver’s door and his scream was cut off by the bloodcurdling roar of an adult tiger.
Mick leaned his monstrous upper body into the cargo area and growled a low warning, gaze fixed and staring at Geoffrey. At his prey. He didn’t climb in, though, and she had to guess it was because in his current form, the van was too small a space to allow him to move around freely. He’d want the coyote to come outside where he could kill it properly.
Renny could see the fear in the coyote’s eyes, but Geoffrey quickly masked it with a sneer. “Well, Michael, long time no see,” he taunted. “I have to say you’re really not looking your best. I have to wonder what my dear sister would have said if she could see the way you’ve … let yourself go.”
Okay, Renny rapidly revised her opinion of her stalker’s native intelligence. Only a fucking moron would taunt an animal as close to losing control as her mate appeared to be. It was like voicing a death wish.
She eased herself a little farther to the side of the van, trying to get as far out of the line of fire as possible. She did not want to get in the way of what Mick obviously had planned for his target. Ever heard the term “collateral damage”?
Something low and menacing rumbled out of the werewolf’s mouth, and even though it bore almost no resemblance to actual English, Renny didn’t need a translator to work out the hidden message. Something along the lines of, “Die, coyote scum,” would be her guess.
“What’s the matter, wolf?” Geoffrey asked. “I thought you wanted to kill me. Are you afraid to come in and get me?”
Mick fell back, still growling long and low, and beckoned the coyote forward with deadly claws.
The coward laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think so, Michael. I think I’m pretty comfortable inside here and out of the wind. You want me, you’re going to have to drag me out.”
“You sure about that?”
Zeke joined the conversation by sliding into the recently vacated driver’s seat and pressing the muzzle of his pistol against the back of Geoffrey’s head. Renny saw the coyote go pale, his eyes widening.
“I think that you have two choices at this point, coyote,” the deputy purred. “You can stay where you are and let me shoot you in the head like the bullying fucking coward you are, or you can go out those rear doors and fight my friend there like a real alpha. Now, I’m pretty certain both those options end up with you bleeding out and begging for mercy. The question is whether your friends get the deposit back on this shiny new rental van. So, what’s it going to be?”
Mick watched his friend hold a gun to the asshole coyote’s head and prayed like hell he wouldn’t pull the trigger. A bullet to the head would bring too easy a death for Geoffrey Hilliard. Mick wanted to rip him into tiny little pieces, just to ensure he suffered.
In other circumstances, his own thoughts would have disgusted him, but this was a special situation. This man had spent months and months stalking and tormenting Mick’s mate. He had driven her from her home, destroyed her belongings, sent his lackeys chasing after her, and now kidnapped and attempted to rape her. As far as he was concerned, the coyote’s suffering would only begin to balance the scales.
“So, what’s it going to be?” Zeke asked.
Geoffrey’s Adam’s apple bobbed, then his features hardened and he yanked his shirt off over his head. “Fine,” he spat. “We’ll do this the old-fashioned way. I’m not afraid of your fucking mutant beast form, Michael. It might make you bigger and stronger, but let’s see how fast you can move.”
The man finished stripping, shifted into his fur, and dove at his enemy.
Mick’s tongue lolled out in a canine grin. It was about fucking time.
Chapter Nineteen
Renny couldn’t hold back her gasp when Geoffrey the coyote launched himself out the back of the van and straight at her mate’s ridiculously larger form. For an instant, she expected to see him bounce off the werewolf’s chest before being torn apart by those five-inch claws. But Geoffrey hadn’t completely lost his mind. Instead of attacking Mick, the coyote copied the move Re
nny had used to outmaneuver Bryce her first night in Alpha: He threw himself past his opponent to land untouched and ready behind the wolf’s back.
Before Mick could spin to face him, Geoffrey darted forward, fangs slashing at the back of the larger animal’s leg. He was trying to hamstring the enemy.
Renny recognized the merit of the tactic. The coyote didn’t have a prayer of matching the werewolf when it came to size or strength. Even had Mick worn his fully animal form, he still would have outclassed Geoffrey in both areas, so the smaller man had to rely on his one real advantage—speed.
He danced out from under the werewolf’s swiping claws, spinning around to launch another attack at the other leg. This time he scored a more solid hit, and Mick howled as the tendon in his leg tore and weakened.
He went down to one knee, and Geoffrey pulled another unexpected move. Instead of leaping immediately for the werewolf’s throat, the coyote gathered itself and threw its full weight against its opponent’s weakened legs, attacking its unstable balance and sending Mick sprawling to his back in the dirt.
Shit, shit, shit. She should have known there was no way Geoffrey was going to play fair. She had to get out there and help her mate.
Renny squirmed to the left and froze when her hip rolled over a long, narrow, cold metal object. The knife. She had just rolled onto Geoffrey’s knife, only it was currently pressed to her belly, and she needed it behind her back where her hands and feet remained tied. Shit, now she knew why her mother had always encouraged her to take up gymnastics. Maybe her occasional forays into yoga would prove to be enough.
Rocking her weight to the side, Renny slowly and carefully worked to reverse her position without sending the knife sliding away across the slick floor. It took some doing, but she finally managed to get herself flipped onto one side with her back facing the blade. At the moment, back equaled hands, and her fingers itched to close around the sharp object. If she could even manage to free just her feet, she’d be able to run to her mate’s side, and then she could—
“Damn it, hold still, you little hellion.” Zeke cursed, reaching around her to grab the knife and saw through the rope binding her wrists to her ankles.
Her body immediately unbowed, and she gave a whimper of relief. Her hands and feet remained tied, but at least they weren’t being yanked to the small of her back and turning her into a lupine pretzel anymore. The relief was staggering.
“I said hold still,” the lion ordered, grabbing and shaking her arms to emphasize his point. “You want me to accidentally cut your wrist instead of this rope? Your mate would finish up with that coyote and have my liver for dessert.”
Renny didn’t bother to respond. She was too busy gritting her teeth against the pain of the newly restored circulation in her limbs and calculating the time it would take her to shake off the rope, leap out of the van, and rip a certain coyote’s heart out once Zeke got her fully untied. She was estimating about 4.7 seconds. Give or take.
Unfortunately, things didn’t work out that way. If she thought coming out of the hog-tie had been bad, it was nothing compared with the searing agony of her contorted limbs finally relaxing from the bonds into which they’d been tied. When the last of the rope slipped away, instead of jumping into battle at her mate’s side, Renny found herself involuntarily curling into a fetal position, as if her muscles were rubber bands that had stretched too far in one direction and now had to overcompensate by collapsing in the other.
Her eyes watered the same way they had done when Geoffrey was dragging her around by the hair. Shit, it hurt!
She fought to control her breathing and to beat down the red tide of pain that obscured her vision. Okay, she decided semi-hysterically, crossing bondage off the list of kinks she might be willing to try. Really not her thing.
“Oh, shit. Come on, buddy,” Zeke muttered, and Renny’s eyes popped open immediately. She followed the lion’s gaze to where her mate knelt once more in the dirt. He might not be lying on his back anymore, but he clearly hadn’t managed to regain his feet, and she could see by the blood on his fur and the oddly limp appearance of his right leg that Geoffrey had gotten in a fortunate swipe and severed the Achilles’ tendon. Mick would be lucky if he could stand, let alone walk.
What a pair the two of them made at that moment, she thought, choking back a laugh. Him crippled and on his knees, her so stiff and in such pain, she could barely move. Talk about matches made in heaven.
Mick’s fur whipped around in the heavy wind while the coyote faced him uninjured. She saw the smaller animal shift its weight back and felt time slow down.
She knew with perfect clarity what was about to happen. Geoffrey was coiling himself into a position to spring at her mate. One leap would close the distance between them and have his fangs around Mick’s throat. The unusual thickness of the muscles in his current form might spare him from the worst possible injury, but all the coyote had to do was get one fang deep enough to nick the carotid artery, and the werewolf would bleed out in seconds.
Her mate would die, and not even the hope of vengeance would be enough to keep Renny from following.
Her body moved on pure instinct.
She didn’t plan out her actions. In fact, later when someone asked her about it, she couldn’t remember when the idea had occurred to her, because it didn’t really. There was no idea, there was just reflex.
Ignoring the pain and stiffness, ignoring the small chance of success and the impossibly long odds, Renny rolled to the side and in one smooth move, she snatched Zeke’s weapon from the holster where he’d replaced it, flicked off the safety, pointed it at the coyote’s head, and pulled the trigger.
Of course, this wasn’t a movie and Renny wasn’t either a stuntwoman or a sharpshooter. She missed. Her bullet went wide of Geoffrey’s head and instead struck him in the side, in the vulnerable spot where hip and side and belly all converged. He collapsed to the ground at Mick’s feet with a shrill howl.
The werewolf immediately took advantage. Instead of Geoffrey sinking his teeth into the wolf’s throat, Mick hurtled forward, never rising off his knees, and closed his powerful jaws around the coyote. He crushed the windpipe and severed the arteries with one vicious tug.
And then, Holy shit, Renny thought as the gun slipped from her hands. It was really over.
Chapter Twenty
Renny could barely express her gratitude when the ambulance braked to a stop in the center of the highway and blocked both lanes of traffic. She would owe Molly for the rest of her life for the way her friend quickly assessed and treated her mate, staunching his bleeding, stabilizing his wound, and ensuring that he got loaded quickly and efficiently into the back of the emergency vehicle.
But she would never admit—not under pain of torture—that she didn’t breathe easily until her mate arrived at the Alpha Medical Center emergency room, had his tendon stitched back together by Dr. Kirby, and was pronounced in excellent condition. All things considered.
You couldn’t drag that admission out of her if you channeled the spirit of Tomás de Torquemada himself. She preferred for her hair to remain in her scalp, thank you very much.
Mick had insisted, predictably, that she undergo her own examination, even if he hovered over her and growled low in his throat the entire time. She honestly wasn’t sure if in the end, Dr. Kirby didn’t pronounce her healthy just out of fear for his own life. Still, his diagnosis of muscle strain, minor lacerations, and a minor sprain to her left shoulder seemed to fit with the way she felt. She’d be back to normal in a few days.
Better than normal, because in a few days her wounds would be healed and she would still be free of Geoffrey Hilliard. The coyote was out of her life forever.
“He’s out of everyone’s lives, including his own,” Zeke observed when she said as much.
A small crowd had gathered in Mick and Renny’s living room. A few had made up their escort home from the hospital, such as Zeke and Molly, while others had met them there to offer help, co
ngratulations, and hear the whole story. Already, Jaeger had someone replacing the busted front door, and the broken windowpane was just a distant memory. Deputy Draper would remain in the hospital for another day or two to monitor his serious, but not life-threatening injuries, but at the cabin things looked almost as if nothing dramatic had ever happened.
Well, as long as she ignored the way her mate had his heavily bandaged leg propped up on a pillow atop the coffee table. Just looking at the wound got her hackles up every time.
“I don’t think anyone’s going to miss him,” Jaeger observed.
“Not even the rest of his pack?” Jonas Browning asked. He had tagged along with the mayor, ostensibly to offer his family’s aid if there was anything Mick and Renny needed. In reality, Renny suspected it was so he could check her out and decide if she was good enough to meet his precious lupine mate.
“I doubt it,” she answered. “Most of them will be just as happy he’s gone. He wasn’t what you’d call a man of the people.”
Mick snuggled her closer. “I just hope for their sake that someone will step up to keep things running. I don’t want the town to have to go through a repeat of the mess I caused, especially since this one would be pretty much my fault, too.”
“Nope, this one is on me as much as you,” she told him. “Besides, those were completely different circumstances. Eight years ago, Sawmill lost a multigenerational pack hierarchy. This time all they’re missing is one egomaniac and a handful of his demented friends. I think the town will be able to go back to the way it was before Geoffrey took over, just a regular small town with an interesting mix of humans and independently minded shifters.”
“That sounds a little like us.” Molly grinned. “Except for the human parts.”
“Yeah, I think ‘independently minded’ is one way to describe the folks around here,” Jaeger drawled, then chuckled.
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