The next thing Gretchen remembered was a large, ugly truck roaring up behind her car and smacking into the bumper.
Spinning.
Sliding.
Slamming.
Dazed, she’d pushed down the air bag and unbuckled the seat belt. The door opened and she fell out. Bitterly cold snow seeped into her clothes as she struggled to stand. From the back seat, Kaylie started to cry. The baby had survived the crash.
Gretchen’s relief was short lived. The truck that had caused her to drive off the road pulled up behind her vehicle.
Kaylie’s cries turned into tiny, angry howls.
Then she’d heard another howl, this one deeper, longer—an answer to the baby’s distress.
She fell forward, the earth spinning beneath her. That must’ve been the moment she went unconscious. Hearing that eerie howl was the last thing she remembered—everything afterward was a blank.
Snapping back to the present, Gretchen looked at Dr. McClure as panic clawed through her. Surely, the EMTs wouldn’t have missed Kaylie if they’d thought to get her purse out of the car. Had Rand gotten to the baby? If her rescuers had found her right after the crash, maybe Rand didn’t have time to kidnap his daughter. Gretchen didn’t know what was worse: Vivian’s child falling into the hands of her murderer, or Kaylie lying somewhere in the woods, buried in snow.
Breathe, Gretchen. Think. Kaylie had a better chance because she wasn’t human. Wolf shifters were stronger in mind and in body. But she was still so young. How long could she survive?
“You have to find Kaylie.” Gretchen clutched at the doctor. “Please,” she cried. “Please! You have to find her!”
“Calm down. I don’t want you to bust open your stitches or aggravate your concussion.”
“You have to find that child. I promised. I promised.”
“Sshh.” Dr. McClure reached over and pushed a button on Gretchen’s IV line. “Everything will be all right, Ms. Myers.”
Gretchen felt suddenly lethargic. Her eyelids drooped. “What…did…”
“It’s okay,” soothed the doctor. “You need the rest.”
Gretchen sank, unwilling, into oblivion.
3
4
Ten Years Ago…
THE LAUGHTER WAS the worst part. The boys enjoyed Gretchen’s torment. They knew the desert better than she did, so they followed her at a pace set to terrorize. Far enough away to make her think she might escape—close enough that a quick sprint would allow them to catch her.
They’re going to hurt me.
Sneaking out and going to the senior party in Red Rock Canyon had been a big mistake. Now, Gretchen was running amid the clusters of rocks and scrub brush, sand filling her shoes, breath stalling in her lungs, and fear clouding her thoughts.
“What’s wrong, baby?” yelled Trent. “I thought you liked us!”
“That’s right! You know you want some of this,” added Jacob.
They whooped with more laughter.
Tears scalded Gretchen’s cheeks. Trent and Jacob had been so nice to her at school. They were popular and cute, the football jocks that most girls crushed on. She’d let them talk her into attending the annual bonfire—an unofficial tradition honored by graduating classes. Lower classmen rarely got invited. So when Trent and Jacob had approached her, not only asking her to go, but also offering a ride in Trent’s new Mustang, she’d been flattered. Vivian had tried to warn her, but Gretchen wouldn’t listen. You’re just jealous that they like me and not you.
But her stepsister had been right. Trent and Jacob hid ugly natures made uglier still by their sense of entitlement. As they drank beer after beer, flirting turned into aggression. She had accepted a can because everyone else was drinking, and she didn’t want to stick out as the goody two shoes. She tried a sip, but instantly disliked the foamy wheat taste. It didn’t take long for Trent and Jacob to separate her from the others. They closed in around her, trying to touch and kiss her. Don’t be a bitch. You should be happy we picked you, Gretchen. You’re lucky.
“Don’t be a baby. We’re just messing with you,” taunted Jacob.
“C’mon, Gretchen. Stop running,” yelled Trent. “We’ll take you back to the party.”
They weren’t even trying to convince her of their lies. They didn’t care that she was terrified. In fact, they were treating her like prey. Jacob and Trent were two unrepentant predators on the hunt. Deep down to her soul, Gretchen knew she couldn’t escape them.
Gretchen’s sides ached, and her calves burned. It was dark, but she was using the mini-light on her keychain to avoid ankle-busting holes and trip-inducing plants. Desperation surged. Her gaze skittered across two boulders leaning against each other. She was small enough to fit in the space between them. If she stayed there, quiet, maybe Trent and Jacob wouldn’t see or hear her. Eventually, they would give up … wouldn’t they?
Gretchen didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t outrun them. Her only chance was to hide. And she’d rather be stuck alone in the desert than at the mercy of the two drunken teenage boys.
She ran to the boulders, her heart pounding so hard she could feel its frantic beat in her ears and in her throat. She skidded to a stop and sank to her knees, crawling forward. Safety waited just inches away. Relief slid through her as she sought to wedge herself into the tight space.
Her relief turned acidic when hands clamped onto her ankles, and she was dragged backwards.
Gretchen screamed.
She dropped her keys and clawed at the sand, trying to find purchase. One of the boys grabbed her hips. He flipped her over. She scraped at the stone, her fingernails breaking as she tried to hold on.
She kicked and punched, but Trent and Jacob were stronger. Jacob grasped her flailing legs as Trent pushed her shirt up and grabbed her breasts.
“No!” she cried. “Stop!”
“Leave her alone.”
The sound of Vivian’s voice silenced the boys’ mean-spirited laughter. Gretchen went still, but couldn’t stop sobbing. Fear poisoned her blood, withered her muscles, and scratched at her bones.
“Well, well. You gonna join the fun, Viv?” asked Jacob. He wasn’t completely able to contain his surprise at her stepsister’s sudden appearance. But his arrogance was too great to be put off stride for too long.
“Get your hands off her before I break all your fingers.”
Gretchen looked at her stepsister, amazed at her calm demeanor as she stared down the attackers. Vivian glanced at her, and Gretchen saw the animalistic tint of Vivian eyes. It was the same kind of iridescence she sometimes saw in her cat Mellow’s eyes.
Jacob and Trent shared a look. It was as if they communicated psychically. Jacob stood as Trent grabbed Gretchen and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pinning her against his solid frame.
“Tell you what,” Jacob smirked. “You shut up and do what we say, and maybe we don’t leave you alone to bleed in the desert.”
Vivian smiled. “I’ll make you the same offer. How about that, Jacob?”
Jacob didn’t like being challenged. He moved swiftly, trying to backhand Vivian, but she dodged. Then she punched him in the solar plexus. He staggered, breathless, and Vivian kicked him in the crotch. Hard.
He fell onto his side, curling into a fetal position as he moaned in pain.
Vivian turned. “Let her go, Trent.”
“Sure, baby.” Trent released Gretchen.
She scrambled away, getting to her feet and nearly falling into Vivian’s arms.
Trent slowly stood and took particular care to dust the sand off his jeans. He didn’t look all that alarmed about his friend’s injuries, and he sure as hell wasn’t afraid of Vivian.
“Dude. I’m outta here. You gonna stay with these freaky bitches?” Jacob had managed to stand, but his expression was still pained.
“Go on. I’ll catch up.”
“Whatever, man.” Jacob turned and walked off.
As soon as his friend went out of sight, Trent
shook his head and sighed. “Humans are so fragile.” His gaze zeroed in on Gretchen. “Weak. Stupid. Ignorant.”
“You still spouting that racist crap your dad taught you?”
Trent snarled. “You’re a mongrel. Your human mother was too weak to even finish bearing a werewolf baby. You don’t even have a pack.”
“We don’t want one,” said Vivian. “Stay away from Gretchen.”
“Gretchen likes me. Don’t you?” His smile was pure evil.
“The Shadows won’t tolerate your treatment of humans. It’s against pack law to harm them. Back off, or I’ll report you to the alpha.”
Gretchen didn’t understand what they were talking about. Alpha? Packs? Werewolves?
“Vivian,” she whispered, “what’s going on?”
“Nothing. C’mon.” Vivian put Gretchen behind her. “We’re walking out of here. Keep your distance, Trent.”
“Or what?” Trent’s face began to change. His brow broadened, his nose and cheeks pushed out, and his jaw widened. He dropped to all fours as his back bowed and his clothes began to swell as his musculature changed.
Fur sprouted, and a full, thick coat was revealed as the beast that used to be Trent shook off the shredded clothing. He lifted his snout to the sky and howled.
“Run,” said Vivian. “Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”
Gretchen didn’t have to be told twice. Trent had just turned into a wolf before her very eyes, and she was so stunned, she couldn’t put a coherent thought together. But as she moved away from her stepsister, the wolf crouched and growled.
Vivian yelled, “No!”
But it was too late.
The wolf leapt.
5
GRETCHEN REARED BACK as the werewolf lunged at her. Vivian pushed her aside, and she flew backwards, landing hard on her back. Huffing and puffing, she rolled to all fours and pushed to her feet.
When she turned around, a second werewolf had appeared. Beautiful white fur shone in the moonlight. This wolf was smaller, more graceful. Vivian. It had to be her. Holy crap. Her stepsister was a werewolf, too.
The white wolf easily dodged Trent’s clumsy attacks. He let his anger dictate his action. He relied on rage instead of strategy to win the fight, and it blinded him to anything but violence. He didn’t realize that Vivian was leading him away from Gretchen. When she jumped up onto the boulders that Gretchen had tried to hide between, Trent followed. He was unprepared for Vivian’s snap at his throat. He yelped and fell to the ground, an ominous crack silencing him forever.
Vivian leapt off the stones, and Gretchen watched in horrified amazement as her stepsister transmogrified into a naked human female. Vivian leaned down and felt the neck of the wolf and grimaced. “Shit.”
“Is he … dead?”
“Yes. We have to go,” said Vivian. She seemed utterly unconcerned about her nudity. Gretchen followed her in a daze, body aching and mind reeling. They soon arrived at Vivian’s little Mazda Miata. “Get in, Gretch.”
Vivian popped open the Miata’s trunk and slipped on a T-shirt dress. Gretchen wanted to ask questions, but the adrenaline that had kept her upright and fighting suddenly dissipated. Before she could utter a word, the exhaustion overtook her and she passed out.
“TRENT BLACKTHORNE?” HARRY asked. “Are you sure?”
Vivian had called her father on the drive home and told him everything. He’d met them in the driveway and carried a weary Gretchen to her bedroom. She slipped beneath the covers, but now that she was safe at home, she couldn’t sleep.
Vivian was a werewolf.
And her stepfather Harry knew.
No, it was more than that. He was one, too.
She left the bedroom and walked down the darkened hallway to Viv’s room. The door was cracked, and she heard voices. She paused, cocking her head, and listened.
“I had to, Dad. They were going to hurt Gretchen.”
“You did the right thing.”
“They’ll ask for a blood debt,” Vivian said. “I killed their son.”
“We’ll deal with that. I’ll talk to the alpha of the Shadows. We’ll pledge to them and seek sanctuary at their compound.”
“What about Gretchen? And Ellen?”
“The only way to protect them is to send them away. They’re better off in the human world without us.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“Don’t be, Vivian. I’m proud of you. Blackthorne is a rogue, and he raised his sons to be vicious. You protected our family.” Harry kissed his daughter’s head. “Get some rest. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Gretchen snuck back into her room and quietly shut her door. She leaned against it, her heart squeezing. She’d ruined everything by going to that stupid party. Now, her whole family would pay the price for that one horrible mistake.
She slid down to the floor, pressed her head to her knees, and sobbed.
6
“FORMULA, RAFE?”
“Wolf likes it.”
The shopkeeper laughed. “You really indulge that old coyote.”
“She’d be offended, Tom. I wouldn’t call her a coyote to her face.”
“Believe me, I won’t.” He shook his head. “You’re the only fella I know who’d befriend a full-grown wolf. She ain’t exactly a puppy. She might hide a mean streak.”
“Some would say the same about me.” Rafe put the rest of the groceries on the counter, along with the diapers.
Tom’s eyebrows rose. “Wolf suffering from incontinence?”
“They’re good for cleaning windows.”
“You never bought ’em before.”
“I read about it in some magazine.”
“Like Parents?”
“Pretty sure it was Guns and Ammo.”
Rafe avoided Tom’s skeptical gaze. For the zillionth time he’d wished he’d been able to go to Vegas where anonymity was guaranteed. The storm had left him little choice; the main road off the mountain was closed and would be until the plows cleared it. He wanted to hurry, but he couldn’t draw any more of Tom’s attention. His cop’s instincts warned him to tread carefully. He’d avoid questions until he gathered more information about the situation with the kid. He figured she was safe in Wolf’s care for twenty minutes—especially when he’d discovered the little girl was a shifter. Getting hungry had made her cranky enough to sprout ears and a snout. It was no wonder Wolf was so attracted to the babe. Her mothering impulse was strong.
Since last night, he’d been asking himself a troubling question: Why was the daughter of werewolves abandoned in a tote?
He didn’t have a cell phone or a landline. On purpose. That way people wouldn’t call him and say things like, “Don’t you think it’s time to move on?” or “Why don’t you come out with us? ” Then there was Mom’s favorite: “You have to let go of the past, so you can have a future.”
As soon as the road was opened, he would drive into town and go to his sister’s vet clinic. At the very least, his youngest sibling Lisa would know some contacts in the local packs. She’d treated the Shadow Pack’s beta not too long ago—maybe the Shadows were looking for the baby. He didn’t want to think about the infant belonging to the Blood Pack. He couldn’t, in good conscience, hand over an innocent to those brawling, murdering bastards. Damn it all to hell. He had his reasons for moving into the cabin and staying away from everyone. Now, he had some little bundle of fluff re-opening old wounds and forcing him into the world he’d wanted to leave behind.
“That’ll be twenty-seven dollars and four cents.”
Rafe shook off his thoughts and opened his wallet. He paid with his debit card, said good-bye to Tom, and hurried to his Ford Bronco. He made it home in record time. Despite the snow, he shaved two minutes off the usual ten-minute drive. Wolf greeted him at the door then she returned to her protective spot, curling around the makeshift drawer crib. The baby still slept, but her blonde hair was wet and stuck straight up.
He chuckled. “Wolf, you don’t have
to clean her.”
Wolf looked at him as if to say: What do you know? She stretched out her front paws, lay down, and closed her eyes.
Rafe put away the groceries before he picked up the purple bag and examined it for the hundredth time looking for clues. Most of the baby’s clothes were hand-made; the name Kaylie was embroidered on the two sleepers. Stuffed into the tote were a bottle, a package of wipes, a pink pacifier, and diapers. Whoever put the kid inside had done so with care. The quantity of items suggested the trip was supposed to be a short one. The holes in the top ... to ensure Kaylie could breathe. Obviously, the baby had been hidden.
Why?
Rafe believed that the mother had packed the tote and placed Kaylie inside it. The whole thing had a woman’s touch. He wondered if the parents were in the woods. Hurt? Dead? Werewolves could’ve easily tracked their child’s scent—at least before the storm had hit. It had put another foot of snow on the ground, and all traces of Wolf’s paw prints were gone. Any shifter trying to search by scent or tracks now would be shit out of luck.
Rafe had been listening to the radio, but a missing baby hadn’t been reported. Either the parents didn’t want to rely on the human justice system, or they were dead. He didn’t own a television—didn’t own too many amenities, preferring not to know what was going on outside his own four walls. But his rusty protective instincts had kicked into gear, thrumming with an intensity that set him on edge.
“Damnation.” Rafe went to cabin’s lone closet and dragged the trunk out of it. He smiled as he unlocked the buckles. His wife’s garage-sale find—the ugliest piece of luggage he’d ever seen. Samantha had wanted to paint it and put it in the nursery. The trunk was the only reminder of his other life that he kept nearby. Everything else gathered dust in the detached garage fifty feet behind the cabin.
He needed to find his police scanner. He removed the half-finished knitted blanket and hesitated. Pressing the soft scrap against his cheek, he closed his eyes. For the first time in a very long while, he let himself remember.
The Pack Rules Boxed Set: The Complete Series of Wolf, Bear, and Dragon Shifter Romances Page 31