by Silver James
“Why are you helping me?” She sounded unsure—and a little scared.
He sniffed the air. Onions. She was worried.
“I told you. A favor to a friend.” Something—some bit of knowledge niggled at the back of his brain. Lauren. Lauren reading. Lauren reading on some sort of eReader thing. Fuck. He grabbed her arms, forcing her to look up at him. “That thing you were reading on. What is it?”
She blinked, confused. “My eReader?”
“Yes. Is it Wi-Fi enabled?”
“Well of course. That’s how I download books to read.”
“Have you used it?”
She struggled against his grip. “Shooter, you’re hurt—” He shook her and her head snapped back and forth.
“Have you connected to the internet since you’ve been with me?”
“Well…yeah. At the supercenter. I bought a couple of books, plus downloaded a bunch from the cloud that comes with my account.”
“And today?”
“You’re really scaring me, Shooter. Yes. While you were in that gun store.”
“Fuck!”
The snarling expression on his face terrified her
“What did I do wrong?”
“You—” Shooter grunted as pain blossomed in his chest. He grabbed Lauren’s hand and dragged her toward the stream lining the road just as his truck exploded.
Lauren screamed but before she could do anything else, Shooter grabbed her.
“Stay low. Keep running. I’ll find you.” He gave her a quick kiss then a gentle shove. “And don’t look back, little mouse.”
Lauren, bent over double, scuttled off following the stream bed. There were rocky outcroppings and a few scraggly trees. Her breath came in painful pants and the stitch in her side was agonizing but she kept moving. She faltered, tripping over a big rock as men’s shouts filled the air. She kept looking back despite Shooter’s command, hoping to catch sight of him, but terrified it would be those men in black chasing her. Gunshots echoed in the night, followed by ominous and long silence. Then a wolf howled, and the screaming started.
Chapter 8
Tait took out the spy drone with a barrage of bullets from his Beretta. At least he’d grabbed his weapon before getting out of the truck. Too bad he didn’t have a backup magazine. He heard the vehicle now. Coming toward him from the wrong direction. He’d expected to be followed. Instead, they’d been waiting in ambush ahead of him and Lauren. He didn’t have much time. Stripping and stashing his clothes for later retrieval, he shifted slowly. It always hurt so much more when he’d been injured. He didn’t want to think about the damage the high-caliber round had done to his chest. Fucking sniper. Stupid. He’d been so damn cocky. And stupid. He knew better.
In wolf form, he crouched, looking away from the inferno that was now his truck. That’d been some trick—blowing it up. Too bad he couldn’t ask the bastards how they’d accomplished it before he killed them. And he did plan to kill them. There was no way in hell he’d let them get their hands on Lauren. The vehicle, a black SUV with darkly tinted windows, rolled to a stop and three men exited, two from the back, one from the front passenger seat. The driver remained behind the wheel. All in good time. He padded into the darkness, his brindle coat blending with his surroundings and the moonlight.
“One of them was headed that way before the drone crashed,” one said while pointing the direction Lauren had gone. “Karl thinks it was the woman. He wants her alive. Kill the man, if he isn’t already dead.”
Two of them hustled toward the culvert and dropped over the edge. Tait crouched down, waiting. Lauren would be okay, even if they caught up to her. He had time to hunt each man. The one who’d stayed behind squatted down and studied the ground where Tait had been standing when he was shot. The man stood and began casing the area, looking for tracks. Good. He needed the thug to get out of sight of the SUV. It took longer than Tait would have liked, aware as he was of the blood leaking from his chest. Finally, his prey was within striking distance, with the burning truck between him and the man waiting in the SUV.
The wolf reacted, leaping at the man and taking him down. He ignored the screams as he disarmed his opponent with a savage bite to the wrist. Then he went for the bastard’s throat. The wolf was in charge and no one would hurt his mate. A bullet ricocheted off the ground near his haunches. Tait covered the distance between him and the shooter in two bounds. He didn’t have time to play. His jaws closed around the man’s throat and he jerked, ripping out skin and muscle and veins. Two down. Two to go.
His mate was being smart and making it hard for her pursuers to follow. The wolf liked that. Maybe she would pet him and make the ache in his chest go away. He knew he was hurt, knew he was starting to limp but he had a duty to keep his mate safe. The third man was wading in the stream. He went down without a sound as the wolf leaped on his back and broke his neck with a powerful bite. Three down. The wolf continued hunting.
“Fuck.” The muffled curse was close—too close to his mate. The wolf dropped into a crouch, edging forward. The man was alone, and his back was turned to the wolf. Tait crept closer. “Somebody talk to me, dammit,” the man spoke into his radio. “What’s going on?”
He never found out. The wolf took him down, the man dying with a whimpered cry. Lifting his head, he sang a love song to the moon thanking the gods for bringing him his mate. She was safe. Their enemies had been silenced. His sensitive nose picked up her scent and he padded into the night following it. He found her nearby, but the sweet aroma that was Lauren stank of ammonia and scorched hair. The wolf worried, wanting to go to her, to lick and cuddle with her so she would sink her fingers into his fur. He snarled. No. The man had to come back. Only the man could approach their mate. He wheeled and loped back to the road.
Shifting to human was excruciating, the act leaving Tait winded and doubled over. He managed to pull on his jeans and stamp his feet into boots before tugging his shirt over his head. He returned to Lauren’s hiding place at a stumbling trot. Damn but his chest hurt. He pulled out his phone and considered who to call. Hank was closer but he didn’t want anyone else on the firing line. He punched in a number.
“Blaidd County Sheriff’s Office,” a woman’s voice recited politely.
****
“Lauren? You can come out now, city mouse. It’s safe.”
Her head popped up from behind a sandy bank and a pile of rocks. “Are they gone?” she whispered.
Yeah, they were gone. Dead and gone.
“C’mon. We need to get out of here.” He offered his hand, but she scrambled up the lip of the gully without assistance.
He walked her back to the road and along it to the turnout at a pace that gradually slowed as his breathing turned to wheezing. Lung shot. He hoped Mac came through for him. When they reached Black Root’s SUV, he got lucky. The driver had left the key fob in the center console. His phone pinged with a text message as he closed the passenger door behind Lauren. Tait wasn’t thrilled with Mac’s message, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
They rode in silence long after he’d reached the intersection with US 12 and turned toward Helena. Lauren sucked in a breath and studied him from beneath lowered brows. He shifted in his seat and winced when he inhaled and the wheeze from the hole in his lung sounded loud enough for her to hear.
Lauren stared at the rust-colored splotches staining Shooter’s shirt. She wasn’t a doctor, but she wasn’t blind either. That was blood and now the funny sounds he was making as he breathed made sense. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
Stupid male ego. “They shot you.”
“I’m fine, Lauren.”
She studied him in the intermittent lights lining the highway as they entered East Helena. His rugged face looked implacable, except for the stubborn gritting of his teeth, the lines around his mouth and eyes etched deeply from the pain. Lauren tried a different tact. “Don’t you dare tell me it’s just a flesh wound,” she muttered. Louder, she asked
, “Where’re we going?”
“Gonna visit friends of a friend.” As fast as he healed, he should tell her it was just a flesh wound to avoid complications later.
“They’re expecting us?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it safe?”
Tait didn’t answer her question immediately. Walking into an outlaw MC’s clubhouse didn’t sound safe. But he didn’t have a choice. He’d made the decision not to call Hank. The former SEAL was a straight arrow—one of the white hats and he had a wife. Since Mac got him into this mess, Tait would rely on his contacts to get him out. Because Mac was a Wolf and Hank had no idea that Wolves existed. Safer for everyone if Hank never found out what Tait was. Only problem, the nearest help that could be trusted with the secret were local black hats—members of the outlaw biker gang, the Nightriders.
They picked up the tail when Tait angled the SUV onto Old Highway 12. Two motorcycles, keeping their distance. He hoped he hadn’t made a huge mistake. He eased the SUV to a stop at the chain link gate blocking entry to an old warehouse on the outskirts of Helena. Two hard, dangerous men guarded the entrance. They were both Wolves. He rolled down the window and stuck his head out.
“I’m Shooter,” he said in a normal tone of voice. One man nodded while the other walked the gate open. He drove to the building and parked close to the door, easing the SUV between a row of Harleys where four more Wolves waited. Their motorcycle escort pulled in behind them, then the gate was closed and locked.
Tait got out, gesturing for Lauren to get out his side. He protected her from the men with his body while holding his hands out to show he wasn’t armed. The front of his shirt was sticky with blood now. “We don’t want trouble.”
“Looks like you’ve already had some.”
“We have. Not sure how the message got to you—”
“Doesn’t matter how, just that it did. Came straight from our national prez. He’s sending some bodies. Heard the law is sending some too. Not sure how we feel about that.”
“If that law is coming from West Virginia, he’s—” Sparkles blinded him for a moment and he swayed on his feet. He had to grab the door of the SUV to remain standing.
“The Russian vouched for him, badge or not. Still…” The speaker let the word hang between them. Then he shrugged and gestured toward Lauren.
“She yours?”
“Yes.”
“The doc’s inside. Your lady’s safe with us.”
Promises, promises, Tait thought, vision going to black. He didn’t feel the bite of asphalt against his knees or face as he hit the ground, out cold.
****
Hank stood with the county sheriff and one of his deputies staring at the burned-out hulk of a pickup truck. Two bodies, bloody and savaged, lay nearby.
“They weren’t caught in the explosion,” the sheriff said, scratching his balding head before jamming his hat back on. “Looks like an animal got them.”
“Are you sure this was Tait’s truck?”
“There’s enough of the license tag and vin number to put two and two together. I know he works for you sometimes. That’s why I called. No sign of him, not that I’ve looked very far yet.”
“Do you mind if I have one of my guys come out to do a track? He has a dog.”
“Go ahead. I don’t wanna be stumbling around the countryside in the dark if there’s a bear or wolf out there with a taste for humans.”
Hank called Kujo, then walked over to the nearest body. He hunkered down to study the corpse. Dressed in black cargo pants and a black T-shirt, the man’s throat had been shredded. There was so much blood his face was indistinguishable, but Hank knew in his gut this wasn’t Tait. The hair was too dark, and too long. He glanced over at the other body. Same black pants and shirt, like a uniform. Except there were no patches or other identifying items.
“Did you check them for ID, Sheriff?”
“Yup. Nothing. That one had money in his pocket. A lot of it. Like drug runner amounts.”
“This isn’t Tait. I doubt the other one is either.”
“You think they stole his truck or something?”
“Or something. If they took his truck, two things would have happened. He’d have reported it and then he would have gone hunting.”
The sheriff toed the body’s booted foot. “Maybe that’s what he did. Doesn’t he have a big ol’ hybrid dog?”
Hank snorted. He could well imagine Chewy ripping out someone’s throat but that wasn’t Tait’s style.
Kujo and his dog, Six, arrived. As they began a search pattern, Six whined and shied away. Hank shined his flashlight at the ground and Kujo swore.
“That’s the biggest damn wolf print I’ve ever seen. No wonder Six doesn’t want to track.”
Men and dog reluctantly followed the muddy trail—small boot prints, two sets of larger footprints, the wolf, then a different set of large boot prints. Lots of coming and going. Thing was, neither of the dead men had mud on their boots. That’s when they found the third body. Forty yards away, they found the fourth body. All four men had been savaged. Hank and Kujo exchanged glances. They needed to get to Tait’s ranch to check on him and Chewy.
“Wolf prints stop here,” the sheriff said. They all cast around for more tracks. From this point on, there was only the smaller set of boots. He continued trailing those prints. Six surged ahead, eager now that the trail was no longer tainted by the scent of wolf. They located a spot where it looked like someone had hidden, a woman from the size and shape of the boot prints.
“None of this is making sense, Hank,” Kujo muttered so the sheriff couldn’t overhear.
“I know. Look, I’ll stall the sheriff. You head to Tait’s place. Scout around. And if Chewy’s there—”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful. He and Six mostly get along so he’s less inclined to eat me than you.”
Kujo feigned searching for his phone and made a show of pulling it out and reading the screen. “That’s my cue,” he said. “I’m expected at home ASAP, unless you still need Six and me?”
The sheriff shook his head, barely noticing, as he stood facing back toward flashing red and blue lights. The local volunteer fire department had finally arrived, and they were hosing down the last bits of flame clinging to tenacious life beneath the pickup. He glanced over at Hank. “You might as well take off too. I gotta wait until the state boys get here, along with the coroner. You find out anything, you call me.”
“Of course, Sheriff.” Hank wasn’t totally lying. Much.
Chapter 9
Lauren sat cross-legged on the floor, her back pressed against the wall. Across the wide hallway, scary men stormed in and out of the room where they’d taken Shooter after he passed out. She hadn’t understood the motorcycle speak, for lack of a better term, upon their arrival. She did understand that Shooter passed out from blood loss, the leader of the gang had promised she was safe, and that there was supposedly a doctor inside—a doctor who would make sure Shooter didn’t die.
“She yours?”
“Yes.”
“Your lady’s safe with us.”
That part of the conversation was just as puzzling as the mentions of some Russian, the law, and bodies. The men wore leather jackets with patches, or T-shirts and leather vests, also with patches. There was evidently some rhyme and reason to what was displayed on the black leather. The main thing was the large embroidered patch of a stylized wolf leaping, front paws reaching out beneath the animal’s snarling muzzle. The wolf’s body morphed into something like a comet’s tail. Above that patch was the word “Nightriders.” Below it, the word “Helena.” The fronts had all sorts of different patches, none of which made sense.
A woman finally appeared and, with hands braced on her hips, stared down at Lauren. “You gonna sit there all day?”
Lauren blinked up at her. How long had she been sitting here? “What time is it?”
“After noon. You hungry? One of the prospects is gonna make a burger run.”
Was she hungry? Her stomach grumbled, answering the question. “Yes, please. That would be very nice.”
The woman rolled her eyes then scowled a little. “You are a fuckin’ babe in the woods, little girl.” That statement was followed with a sigh and another question. “So, what do you want?”
“A cheeseburger is fine. And fries maybe? And a Diet Coke?”
“Fuckin’ babe,” the woman muttered as she moved off.
Lauren watched her walk away. The woman had to be in her forties, maybe a little older. She wore jeans so tight they could have been painted on. A cropped baby tee in a bright red topped the jeans, and the woman’s breasts were barely covered with the help of a ubiquitous black vest. The patches on the back were similar to those worn by the men. The wolf was there but then the upper and lower patches said, “Property of” and “Rust.” What in the world was that all about?
The door across the hall opened and an older man walked out. He wore a patch on the front of his vest that said “Rust.” Her brain was too tired and worried to make sense of it.
“You been sittin’ out here all night?”
She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. This was one of the scariest men she’d ever seen, with his long, shaggy hair and beard, plus piercing brown eyes filled with golden glints.
“Your man’s tough. He should be dead.”
Unable to breathe for a minute, Lauren drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them.
Rust continued. “The doc and Totem fixed ’im though. My old lady will bring your food when it gets here. Eat. If the doc says so, you can go in and be with him.” His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. “Huh. He claimed you, but he hasn’t claimed you.” He rubbed his chin, a thoughtful look on his face. “Still, probably wouldn’t hurt. He’ll feel more settled if you’re with him.”
“Uhm…okay?”
The biker snorted, shook his head, and stepped back inside the room. Lauren leaned, trying to see inside the door as he closed it. She caught sight of a shadow and heard an angry snarl. Did they have a dog in there? What in the world was going on?