by Dunbar, Natalie; Glass, Seressia; Jeffries, J. M. ; Banks, L. A.
“I’ve got to be at Floyd Lamb State Park in an hour, and I’ve got to go alone or something bad will happen,” she began. “Get Garen. I’m meeting those werewolves.”
Kicking one opponent in the solar plexus and punching the other so hard his head snapped back and his nose bled, Garen whirled, knocking two of the Tanetti brothers’ hired muscle to the ground. The goons hadn’t bothered to change, but they were werewolves. He could smell it in them and see it in their unusual strength. Scrambling up, they came back at him.
He was tired of this routine, but he couldn’t afford to change into his wolf and be ruled by instinct instead of knowledge and logic. Garen growled low in his throat, filling it with the anger and rage of an alpha male.
The dark haired one answered by growling low in his throat and approaching cautiously. The other whined and backed off.
Charging forward, Garen smashed his fist into his challenger’s face, breaking his nose and shattering his teeth. Lifting his opponent, Garen hurled him into the side of the adobe house.
His challenger lay unmoving on the gravel in a pool of blood.
Garen struggled briefly with the wolf inside him and the instinct to finish off the werewolf. Werewolves healed fast. To make sure his opponent stayed down, Garen drew cuffs from a back pocket and cuffed one leg to an arm behind him. It would make it difficult for the werewolf to change and heal his injuries.
Finishing his task, he looked around. The other werewolf had run. Garen had no illusions about the werewolf returning with reinforcements, so he hurried up the steps. Jerking open the screen door, he peered in cautiously and entered the house.
Announcing his presence as an officer of the law, Garen sniffed the air. The place smelled of werewolf. The scent was different from the two he’d fought outside. The interior of the house was filled with trash. He heard the sounds of running outside.
Garen quickly eased back toward the front door for a look. He pushed at the screen.
Shots rang out. A bullet zinged past him.
That surprised him. The two goons hadn’t bothered with guns, so who was shooting at him now? He didn’t plan on catching a bullet to see if it was silver. It would take too long to heal. Garen drew the gun he kept loaded with silver bullets. This was deadly force for werewolves and would have to be explained.
Someone was running again. Peeping out the corner of the screen, he saw a figure melt into the shadow of a tree. “This is the police. Hold it right there!” Garen called out.
A barrage of bullets answered him. Garen looked up and down the street. He’d called the Preternatural Division for backup on the way over. They were taking their damned time. Aiming carefully for a place where a scrap of dark material stood out from the tree, Garen fired.
A barrage of wild shots went off. A figure separated from the side of the tree, falling to the ground.
Training his eyes on the prone figure, Garen hurried out. He saw the gun in the street. In the distance, he heard a siren. It was about damned time.
A man who looked like an exotic mix of African American and Asian lay on the small grassy area, writhing in pain. It was Pierson. Blood poured from a hole in his side. He moaned, his fingers clutching something beneath his shirt.
Lifting the shirt, Garen examined the object. It was a gold medallion like the one Kellie had sketched. He saw the wounded werewolf trying to effect the change to wolf. Going on instinct,
Garen grabbed the chain and snatched the medallion off him.
Pierson groaned and tried to get it back.
Placing the medallion on the ground out of reach, Garen used his spare pair of cuffs to secure the werewolf. “Tell me about this medallion,” Garen demanded in a harsh growl. “Where did you get it?”
“It’s mine. Give it back,” Pierson insisted.
Garen tightened his hold on Pierson’s shirt. “The pack of werewolves who attacked several people on the outskirts of the city was wearing medallions like this. You’re under arrest for suspicion of murder.” He began to read him his rights.
Pierson’s eyes got big, and he actually whined. “No, no man. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t involved in that.”
“Tell me who was.” Garen’s eyes were hard. He didn’t like Pierson’s smell. It was rank and foul. He liked the werewolf’s behavior even less. The dominant males like Garen were alphas and the less dominant wolves were betas. Garen placed Pierson below any beta he’d ever met.
Garen’s cell phone began to ring. Between holding and interrogating Pierson and keeping an eye out for the requested backup, he tried to ignore it. When the phone stubbornly continued to ring, he put a knee in Pierson’s chest and whipped it out.
Paul was on the other end talking fast, something Garen rarely experienced. When he heard that Paul was following Kellie to the Lamb state park to meet a werewolf, he thought he would explode. After the incident outside the hospital, she’d been more careful. She’d told him that she would stay at the hotel. Garen cussed a blue streak. “Of all the dangerous things to do… And why?
“From what I could hear, something to do with her Nana,” Paul answered.
Garen snatched Pierson to his feet using the front of his shirt. “Her Nana is dead.”
“Yeah, but ain’t the body missing?”
”Son of a bitch!” Garen’s clamped down on his jaw so hard that it hurt for several seconds. Then the natural healing process of his body took over.
“We’re almost there,” Paul warned. “I alerted the pack, but they’re hanging back till I give the signal. Seeing as how she was attacked only a couple of weeks ago, and then she hasn’t fully changed yet, it could get scary for her.”
“I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.” Garen got off the phone with his heart thundering in his chest. Again, he was seeing his Kellie as a warrior to her heart, and she didn’t let size or odds deter her from her goals. She was precious and more fragile than she knew. He didn’t even want to consider what would happen to him if Kelly got hurt or killed. He would be alone for the rest of his life because there was no way he could ever replace her.
He drew Pierson close to his face and filled a growl with all of his power. “I’m only going to ask once. What do they want with Kellie Monroe?”
Kellie drove in under the park’s sign, checking the clock in the white rental car. A woman on a mission, she was actually ten minutes early. That suited her just fine. Scouting the place, she drove around, noting the four little lakes, the shaded picnic area, walking/bicycle path, and horse pits. It was a pretty place, just perfect for getting away from the glitz and glamour of Vegas for something closer to reality. The place seemed deserted. She knew better.
To feel more secure, she checked her guns and ammo again. They wouldn’t even the odds, but they could help her stay safe until Garen arrived. Stuffing the 9mm in the big pocket of her tunic and the automatic in her purse, she switched off the ignition. She was ready.
Grabbing her bottle of water, she stepped out of the car into the oven like heat. It was almost noon. Nevada sun threatened to roast her skin. She hitched up her sunglasses and started on the grass-
lined path down to the picnic tables and the shade. Out of the corners of her eyes, she saw shadows moving. When she turned to look, there was nothing there.
Clutching the purse tightly, she kept walking toward the tables at a calm, measured pace. Her tennis shoes echoed on the hardened dirt. Furtive sounds reached her from time to time. She was not alone. Idly, she wondered how long they’d wait before they made a move on her.
At the tables, she took a seat with her back against the trunk of a tree. The short walk had made her thirsty. She sipped from the water bottle and made the most of the shade.
With a slight rustling sound, a tall man walked out of a copse of trees to her right. The slight breeze carried the werewolf scent. He was pretty for a man, with fine features and bronzed skin that made him look exotic without giving any real hints of his ancestry. Chiseled cheekbones and his lean-muscled b
uild saved him from looking too feminine.
“You came alone,” he said, deep voice resonating in the air. “Smart woman.”
Kellie wasn’t so sure. Especially when she knew that more of his pack waited in the copse of trees. How was she going to keep him from taking the amulet and her along with it? Her guns loaded with silver bullets would help, but given the numbers she’d seen at Nana’s, she’d be outnumbered. She could only hope that Paul was as competent as she suspected and had been able to contact Garen.
Unusual, peridot-colored eyes surveyed her, summing her up. “I am Armando.”
The closer he got, the more the feeling that he walked in the center of a sphere of power grew. It raised the hair on her arms and made him seem impossibly attractive. When Garen came close, it was a similar feeling, but this was somehow different. She wondered if it had something to do with the gold amulet he wore around his neck.
“What do you want with the amulet?” she asked. “It’s mine. Nana left it to me.”
“We’ve been looking for it,” he replied calmly as he took a seat on the other end of the table. “While your Nana was alive, none could touch it or her, but now that she’s dead, you have neither the skills or the power to hold on to it. I can’t see it on you, but I can feel its power from here. Who wouldn’t want such power?”
Kellie hardened her tone. “You have your own power. I can feel that from here.”
Armando’s lips quirked up in amusement. “Oh but your amulet has more useful properties,” he said. “Have you stopped to wonder about the different animals engraved on the surface? Give it to me, and I’ll show you how to use it.”
She didn’t want to give him anything. She could only stall so long. Garen had to come soon. Unzipping her purse, Kellie delved deep to fit her hands around the gun. “Where is Nana’s body?”
Armando gave her a measured glance. “Stay calm, Ms. Monroe, and we will get through this without further violence.”
He made a whistling sound between his teeth. Two men stepped out of the trees, carrying a body bag, and headed for the picnic table.
Swallowing, Kellie felt sad that Nana had suffered this indignity in death. The two men carefully set the bag on the table and pulled the zipper open.
She didn’t want to look, but how else could she make sure it was Nana? Training her eyes on the bag, she fought a sickening wave of revulsion.
The scent of lavender hit the air and mixed with the decaying scent of death. Lavender had been Nana’s favorite scent. The first things visible were the thick waves of Nana’s silvery gray hair. The waves of her hair filled the bag, the mass covering her face. Armando gently pushed the hair away from the face.
Kellie stifled her quick intake of breath. Familiar twisted gold loops adorned the ears. It was Nana, but the body looked severely dehydrated, almost as if the old woman had been freeze dried. She shot Armando a scorching look. “What did you do to her?”
He glowered. “We didn’t kill her, if that’s what you mean. She died in the hospital.”
“And after that?”
“She may have lost some blood,” he said, looking impatient.
Her stomach threatened to heave. Not even vamps would touch the blood of the dead. So who had taken the blood? And why?
Armando’s eyes narrowed. He extended a hand. “Give me the amulet.”
With her hand still deep in the purse, Kellie brought it up so that the gun was pointing at Armando. “Put Nana in the trunk of my car first.”
Growling low in his throat, he showed her his teeth. “We haven’t attacked you, so we won’t excuse your action this time. Our alpha was a good leader and much loved. Some of the pack still wants revenge on you for his death.”
“Are you one of them?” she asked, not backing down. “I have a gun loaded with silver bullets, and you’ll be the first to go if anyone comes near me.”
Armando made a snorting sound. “You’re hopelessly outnumbered. There’s no way you could kill us all.”
“But I’d go down fighting and take a lot of you assholes with me,” she countered.
Considering it, Armando tilted his head toward the car. The two men zipped the bag and took it to the car. They even opened the driver’s door and used the lever to open the truck.
With the gun in her purse trained on Armando, Kellie watched them place the body in the trunk and close it. They hovered near the car for a moment till Armando nodded, then they joined the rest of the werewolves in the shelter of the trees. Now all she had to do was find a way out of the park without getting hurt or giving up her amulet.
Armando extended his hand, palm up once more. “The amulet.”
She reached a hand down the front of her top to where she’d stowed the amulet in the shelf bra made into it. It tingled against her fingers. The thought of giving it up made her mad. A savage growl escaped Kellie’s throat. Where had that come from?
Armando and the two with him broke out laughing. “One wolf against all of us?” He made a clicking sound with his teeth. “Go ahead and make the change.”
Standing, she backed toward the car.
“You’ll never make it,” Armando taunted.
A group of people stepped out of the trees to her right. There were at least thirty of them. They were all wearing those damned medallions with the wolf and the moon on them.
She was fast. She’d spent years honing her body for competition in gymnastics, tennis, and track. With her hand still on the gun in her purse, Kellie turned and sprinted for the car.
Chapter Seven
Howls of rage erupted behind her. Then she heard running footsteps. Sucking in a breath of the oven air, Kellie ran, pushing herself to the limit and past. She dodged tree roots and jumped over rocks, staying on the path and praying that the driver’s door on the car was still unlocked. She’d lock the doors and fish the key out of the pocket in her slacks.
Where were Garen and the cavalry? Tantalizing yards from the car, Kellie realized that Armando had been right. She wasn’t going to make it. In a calculated move that felt too much like suicide, she turned, whipping her hand out of the purse with the gun to fire on her pursuers. Aiming for vital organs with fast, deadly precision, she got four of them before the pack overran her. On the ground in a tangle of bodies, some in the throes of the change, Kellie fought furiously. Kicking, punching, biting, she felt the amulet grow so hot against her skin it burned.
In the background she heard screams, growling, jaws snapping, and other signs of fighting. Paul had arrived with help.
A surge of electricity went through her body. Her body trembled and shook, the bones suddenly aching so much she wanted to scream. She felt weird, as if she were exploding from the inside out. Still fighting, she felt her knees buckle. The cloth in her top ripped as her body expanded. The slacks became painfully tight. A savage howl forced its way out of her throat.
Kellie shook herself, clawing and biting her way out of the slash of bodies. She had fur. She’d lost control of her body. She’d changed into a wolf. Coming apart inside the wolf she screamed over and over again in horror. Ignoring her, the wolf acted on instinct and continued to fight her attackers with deadly skill.
Armando’s scent filled her nostrils. He shoved a hand down the remnants of her top to grab the amulet.
The wolf’s powerful jaws closed on the offending arm. The bones gave easily, fresh blood slipping down her throat as it snapped the arm off at the wrist. Chewing, she swallowed chunks of his flesh.
Dropping the amulet, Armando screamed in rage and pain, then he began to change.
With a furious growl, a coal black wolf pushed himself between them to attack Armando and the others with his claws and jaws. His ruthless skill and precision made quick bloody work of her attackers.
The wolf had Garen’s scent. It was the first time she’d seen him in wolf form, but the pull was still there. Pressing forward, she tried to rejoin the fight. With a snarled warning, Garen nudged her back.
Scanning th
e area, she saw that several other wolves and humans had joined the battle. The sight of so many wolves in broad daylight should have been scary, but Kellie could see that the majority of them were fighting on her side. The sheer numbers meant that more than one pack fought with Garen against Armando’s pack. Wolves and humans wearing the gold wolf’s head medallions were being slaughtered.
Gradually, she discovered that if she was calm, she gained a measure of control with the wolf. Kellie dipped her head, edging the bodies of the dead and wounded aside as best she could in her search for her amulet. Some were in human form, others wolf, and still others caught in an eerie in-between. In wolf form for the first time, she found it hard to concentrate on the search. She missed the use of her hands. Frustrated, she settled down to wait for the end of the battle.
It seemed like hours, but a check of Kellie’s watch proved that a mere half hour had passed. None of Armando’s pack remained alive. Wolves were shifting back into human form, and those already changed had started a clean-up effort. Kellie recognized Paul, Marcus, and Laurel in the crowd.
Everyone seemed to change so effortlessly that she decided that it must be something done on instinct. Garen transformed and stepped into a pair of tattered pants. Watching him, Kellie tried to do the same. Abruptly, she realized that she did not know how. She howled.
Garen came. Gathering her close, he petted her, soothing her, running his fingers through her fur and making sure she wasn’t injured. “I’ll help you, Kellie,” he whispered, scratching behind her ears. “I’ll talk you through the change.”
Moving her to a quiet spot under a tree, Garen continued talking to her and murmuring encouragements. Listening to the mesmerizing rhythm and tone of his voice, Kellie let herself relax in his arms. He made her focus inwardly on her body and her desire to go back to the way she’d been, and the physical changes that would have to happen.
Kellie’s skin was so tight and sensitive that she moved away from Garen’s gentle hands. Blood rushed through her veins, making her ears ring. She collapsed on the grass. Bones aching deep inside her, Kellie shook beneath the scary sensation of being turned inside out.