As she deployed the kickstand and turned off the engine, her bladder spasmed, meaning she had to wait agonizing seconds for the urge to subside, or she’d leak, which would be too utterly embarrassing. She tightened her gloved fists on her thighs and willed the spasm to go away.
When she was sure she had control again, she took off her gloves and shoved them into her jacket pocket, then pulled the key and pocketed it, too. She stomped to get the circulation going in her unexpectedly rubbery legs as she took her backpack off the rail and shouldered it.
After a moment’s hesitation, she slid her homemade weapon from the closest saddlebag into the pocket of her loose cargo jeans. Just because the brightly lit convenience store section seemed inviting and friendly didn’t make it safe. She’d learned that lesson and so many others the hard way.
She pulled off the helmet, then slipped the re-snapped strap over her arm like a purse, albeit one with a hand-painted flaming skull. She’d been lucky to find a helmet close to her size in the thrift store. Its dusty face shield sported tiny scars from pebbles and splats from insects that would have been in her face if she hadn’t been wearing it. The motorcycle’s front fairing and windshield didn’t block everything.
The ill-fitting leather jacket and heavy denim felt like a furnace now that she was standing in the dry summer heat of twilight, but she wouldn’t be there long enough to make it worth her time to do more than unzip the jacket. She guessed she had forty-five minutes until sunset.
Outdoor speakers blared the upbeat country song about an achy-breaky heart. An errant breeze felt good on her sweat-plastered short hair, but the mixed smells of oil and gas threatened a return of the awful morning sickness she’d endured for the first sixteen weeks of her pregnancy. She hurried inside.
At the counter, she caught the attention of the clerk. “Restrooms?”
The bony blonde woman with too much makeup over her acne pointed toward the back. “Look for the orange signs. You gotta buy something if you use ’em.”
Jackie nodded and walked quickly, following the arrows. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait in line or share the facilities. After the blessed relief of peeing, she used soap and water from the sink to make herself look as presentable as possible under the circumstances. Her light brown skin already made her stand out, because the farther north she’d traveled, the fewer people she’d seen who looked like her. She threw the soiled paper towels in the trash and eyed herself critically in the mirror. At least now she didn’t look like a dangerous fugitive who’d escaped a violent pack of leopard shifters who wanted her back alive or dead. Despite the warmth of the restroom, she shivered.
“Get back to the plan, Jackie,” she told her mirrored self. She couldn’t afford to fall apart, or everything she was afraid of would come to pass. She bent over to drink straight from the sink’s faucet, then wiped the water off her face. She re-centered her her backpack and went out into the convenience store.
The smells of warm bread and sizzling hamburgers drew her like a lodestone toward the restaurant section, but she couldn’t afford to waste the time or the money. She sternly made herself march into the back aisle and open the refrigerator door for the lunch meats and cheeses.
She got a whiff of a tantalizing scent as she pulled her selections off the hooks. Not food, but something intensely interesting. Her sense of hearing and smell had magnified with each passing week of her pregnancy. She wished she knew if that was typical for a human woman carrying a shifter’s child but she had no one to ask. Certainly not the lying son-of-a-bitch leopard who’d gotten her pregnant, despite her precautions. She hoped he was roasting in hell, but he probably wasn’t. Justice for the privileged rich, regardless of skin color or species, had a whole different set of rules.
She let go of the refrigerator door and turned toward the scent, only to run headlong into a man who’d just turned down the aisle.
“Sorry,” she said, even as he said the same word. She regained control of her suddenly clumsy feet. She got the impression of chiseled cheekbones and a square jaw before she dropped her gaze out of habit, one learned from living with volatile shifters. His scent hit her like a freight train a moment later, all woodsy and leathery and mouth-wateringly male.
No one, not even the father of her baby, back when she’d thought she was in love with him and he with her, had ever smelled that good. She took a step back, because if she hadn’t, she’d have been tempted to stick her face in the vee of his short-sleeved T-shirt and lick.
“My fault,” he said. “Are you…” He trailed off and audibly swallowed.
She made the mistake of looking up at him and confirmed that he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen, even counting the handsome actors she’d thrilled over as a teenager. His brown skin and features spoke of an ethnic heritage something like hers, and his warm, coppery-brown eyes threatened to drown her on the spot. His wide shoulders and arms looked strong enough to protect her from anything. The few tight coils of hair on his muscled chest mirrored the close-cropped hair on his head. His low-slung jeans and boots completed the mesmerizing package.
She swallowed and took another step back, away from temptation. “I’m fine.”
Except she wasn’t. She wanted to set fire to all her plans in favor of getting to know the man standing in front of her. For his part, he looked stunned.
She shook herself. Not, not, not happening. She was a pregnant fugitive with enough secrets to write her own soap opera, and an implacable enemy on her tail. A human, no matter how tall, broad-shouldered, and sexy, was no match for a criminal cat-shifter pride with claws and teeth, and vengeance on their minds.
Find out what happens next in SHIFTER MATE MAGIC
Dire Wolf Wanted Page 19