Brazen (12 page)

She reached into her pocket and pushed the panic button.

Twenty-five

Nick

Nick had followed the path easily enough. At first, when it became clear that Vanessa was actually leading Malcolm—their paths had diverged enough that he couldn’t be forcing her somewhere—Nick had been confused. She wouldn’t run, not when Nick had been right across the road. Once he realized Vanessa’s trail stuck to the sidewalk, he understood her plan—lure Malcolm along an occupied street until he could catch up. She must have been the one who called, to tell him her plan.

So he was no longer barreling down the road, certain she was five seconds from a terrible death. He did lope along the sidewalk, though. As a wolf. In a Detroit suburb. Elena would throttle him. Clay would help. Under the circumstances, though, there was nothing else he could do. There were no alleys. No maze of side streets and service lanes. This was it—a major suburban thoroughfare in daylight. He could tell himself it wasn’t so bad, and the shopping district wasn’t exactly packed. But even if people would only report seeing a huge dark brown dog, he was still in serious shit.

He made good time, if that helped. And once the trail went into the electronics store, he did keep to the service lane that ran along the side and back, pacing as he figured out his next move. 

Vanessa had Malcolm cornered, so to speak, though he doubted Malcolm would agree. Malcolm was, however, unable to kill her in such a public place. They were at a stand off, as Vanessa waited for Nick. No, as she waited for
human
Nick, with hands that could open the goddamned door.

He could Change back, but that would take too much time, too long when he’d be useless, caught between forms. There was only one option: let Vanessa know he was there. That meant letting her see him. He walked down the service lane, planning to pace in front of the store. Just as he headed there, though, a commotion sounded inside. No screams, thankfully, but sudden chatter, rapid footsteps, the front door opening, then more footsteps as people spilled onto the sidewalk.

Nick raced to the sidewalk. The store was emptying fast. People weren’t running panicked, though. They were just getting the hell out of there. Meaning Malcolm had made his move.

Nick ran to the front door, but by the time he reached it, everyone was gone and it was closed tight. He tore around the back. Someone would come out there, an employee or a customer. But the door stayed closed. He strained to hear noises from inside. Nothing. He tried to take comfort in that. Vanessa had her gun. If Malcolm did anything, she’d shoot him. Whatever was happening, it couldn’t be that dire. Yet his heart hammered as he paced, desperately struggling for an idea.

Break the front window. No, get a look through that window. Evaluate the situation. Break it if needed.

He was turning to start down the lane again when the rear door creaked open. He crouched, waiting and watching as the door slowly opened and then—

Nick shot forward. A young clerk let out a shriek. Nick knocked him flying and scrambled through the open door. He raced along the narrow back hall, knocking over everything in his path. Finally he saw the half-open door to the shop floor ahead. 

Nick smacked the door open with his muzzle and charged through. Then he saw them, grappling on the floor. It was no contest. Malcolm was only trying to get his grip and as soon as he found it…

As Nick raced over, they both stopped. Vanessa’s elbow shot up, slamming Malcolm in the jaw. It was enough to make him fall back. He could have recovered and pinned her, but Nick was barreling straight at them, and as arrogant as Malcolm was, he wasn’t about to ignore a charging wolf. As Vanessa struggled up, reaching for her gun, Malcolm gave her a shove. Then he ran.

Malcolm tore around a display and made a beeline for the rear door. Nick glanced back at Vanessa.

“Go!” she said. “I’ve called them. They’re coming. I’ll lead them to you.”

He took off after Malcolm.

•••

A healthy ego is a wonderful thing. An overinflated one, though? That gets you into trouble. Antonio had taught Nick that, clamping down whenever he got a little too cocky about the numerous gifts life had bestowed on him.

Malcolm’s ego failed him almost as soon as he got out that rear door. He should have run for the street. That was his only chance. Nick might break the rules enough to race along it in wolf form at midday, but he’d never take down Malcolm there. He’d need to stick to back roads and hope to drive Malcolm to a more suitable place.

But running to the safety of humans was more than Malcolm’s ego could bear. He tore along the service lane until he neared the end. Then he grabbed a fire escape ladder. He was ten feet up when Nick sprinted and leaped. He’d been aiming to grab Malcolm by the back of the shirt but that, he realized, had been a bit of ego on his own part. He managed to snag Malcolm’s foot. He clamped down hard, though, and when he dropped, Malcolm dropped with him.

They fought. Nick hadn’t Changed just so he could better track Malcolm—he knew being in wolf form was the only way he’d get the upper hand in a fight. Malcolm didn’t concede easily, though. Nick tore at him with fang and claw, ripping through fabric and flesh, and still Malcolm fought, kicking and punching, aiming for Nick’s stomach, eyes, muzzle, all the sensitive spots. Soon Nick was fighting through a haze of pain and blood.

He could lose this fight. He hadn’t considered that. A fight between a wolf and an unarmed man clearly favored the beast. But Malcolm was on a whole other level, and it wasn’t just martial superiority. He was fighting for his life and it seemed to numb him against every injury.

When Malcolm’s fist connected with the side of Nick’s skull, hitting a spot he’d already pummeled, the pain of that sledgehammer drive knocked Nick unconscious. It was only a second’s dip into blackness before he yanked himself out, but it would have been enough for Malcolm to get free. Escape and run. Instead, he grabbed Nick’s muzzle and tried to break his neck. And it was then that Nick realized Malcolm wasn’t the only one fighting for his life. 

Malcolm meant to kill him. The shock of that realization almost made Nick laugh. Had he really doubted it? After what Malcolm had done to Tina and the Stokes? Yes, he had, because no matter how hard he tried to convince Vanessa of Malcolm’s lethality, he’d considered himself exempt.

He was not exempt. And that was, it turned out, exactly the motivation he needed to dig deeper, fight harder. He clawed and snapped and threw himself into the fight as he never had before, and when he finally got Malcolm pinned, it came almost as a shock. But he was upright and Malcolm was on his back and Nick had his jaws around Malcolm’s throat.

One chomp. That’s all it would take, and the most dangerous wolf the Pack had ever known would be vanquished. By the omega wolf. Yet Nick didn’t think for a moment how sweet that would be. How fittingly ignoble an end. He thought only of his duty. His mission was to find Malcolm. Not to kill him. That right belonged to Clay. Yet he could not let Malcolm go. Clay wouldn’t want that. Yes, Clay would love to kill the bastard himself, but ending Malcolm’s life—by any means—was more important.

Nick pulled back for the killing bite. As he swung down, he saw the look in Malcolm’s eyes. The rage. The shame. The humiliation. And yes, it was sweet.

Then he heard a shout. Vanessa. That stopped him mid-lunge. Malcolm tried to buck up, but Nick had him firmly pinned. Another shout. A different voice now. Not so much a shout as a snarl of rage.

Clay.

Something hit Nick in the shoulder and for a moment, he thought it was Clay, and confusion flashed through him.

I was doing the right thing. I wasn’t stealing your kill. I—

That’s when he heard the shot, as if his brain delayed processing it. He heard the shot and then another, and shouts and bellows of rage and fear. 

Nick had been shot. 

Malcolm reared up again. Nick tried to hold him, but Malcolm managed to chop him in the shoulder, where the bullet had penetrated, and it was too much. Nick staggered enough for Malcolm to scramble out from under him.

Malcolm ran. Nick tried to follow, but his injured shoulder gave way. He glanced back. Clay, Elena and Reese were running toward him, as Vanessa, Jayne and Rhys subdued two men with guns—more werewolf hunters, he presumed. They were still fifty feet back, not much beyond the shop door. Malcolm was escaping. Nick lurched after him, but couldn’t manage more than a hobbling lope.

“Stay there!” Elena said, racing up, in the lead. “We’ve got this. Reese? Stay with Nick. Get that bleeding under control.”

Reese slowed. Elena and Clay raced past him, but Nick knew it was too late. Malcolm was gone. They’d lost him.

Twenty-six

Nick

They were in a hotel room—Nick, Elena, Clay, Reese, Vanessa and Rhys. Jayne had already departed with backup to recover Tina’s body. Rhys had bound Vanessa’s wrist at the scene—it was sprained not broken. Then they’d grabbed food, and the werewolves were now ripping through it as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks. 

Vanessa and Rhys watched them, bemused, as if wondering how anyone could have an appetite after the last few hours. But it was precisely that close call that gave them the appetite. This was a celebration. Yes, as Nick predicted, Malcolm had escaped. But they hadn’t lost him. He was right there, a blip on a screen, tracked by the microchip Vanessa had implanted during their fight. It was the best on the market—the black market, that is—the kind of tech the CIA would insist didn’t even exist. And the kind of tech Malcolm was never going to find with all his cuts and gouges.

Elena was in charge of the tracking box. Rhys turned it over as he took Vanessa off to talk shop, leaving the werewolves to finish their meal.

“If you keep checking that, you’ll start seeing blips in your sleep,” Reese said, as Elena glanced at the device for the hundredth time. 

“Just making sure it doesn’t stop until he’s in the next state.”

“Unless it stops because he’s decided to give up,” Clay said through a mouthful of burger. “Save us the trouble and off himself, unable to live with the humiliation.”

“Of nearly dying at my hands?” Nick said.

“Of nearly dying at the hands of anyone he considers his inferior, which goes for 99.9 percent of the population.”

“You don’t need to qualify that. Getting killed by me would have been the worst possible fate. I could see it in his eyes. He was pissed.”

Clay grinned. “Yeah, I noticed that even from where I was. Looked good on him. Too bad those moron bounty hunters interfered. Would have been a fitting end for Malcolm Danvers.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Elena said, stealing a handful of fries from Clay. “I think living with the humiliation for a while will be even better. He knows Nick had him. He was saved by happenstance. That’s going to sting for a long time.”

“Right into his afterlife,” Clay said. “Which will come soon.”

“So what’s next?” Reese asked. 

“Next we let him get comfortable,” Elena said. “Lower his guard. This little tracker means we don’t need to worry about him coming after any of the Pack. If he sets foot in New York State, we’ll take him down. Otherwise, I’ll track him until he figures he’s safe. Then Clay and I will take a well-deserved vacation.”

“Culminating in the death of Malcolm Danvers,” Clay said.

“And the hunters?” Reese asked. He’d interrogated the one he’d chased and gotten contact information for the guy setting the bounties.

Elena chewed a fry before answering. The hunters were a nuisance, to be sure. Possibly a deadly one. But Malcolm was deadlier.

“I can take that,” Nick said. “Pay the guy a visit. Convince him it’s not a good idea to put out bounties on us.”

“I’ll run backup,” Reese said. “We might even get Morgan to come along. He should be home by then.”

Elena looked at Nick. “You sure?”

“I can handle it.”

She met his gaze. “I wasn’t asking that. Obviously you can handle it. But Karl’s up on the duty roster. I can send him if you want a break.”

“Nah, I’m on it already. I might as well stay on it. Compared to hunting Malcolm, this should be a breeze.”

“Famous last words,” Clay said.

Nick laughed, and they continued plowing through the meal.

•••

Malcolm had indeed vacated the state. Heading west. Far west. Licking his wounds. Clay and Elena had already left, eager to get back before the kids returned that evening.

Nick was riding back with Reese. First, they dropped Rhys and Vanessa off at the airport. Nick hadn’t had a moment alone with Vanessa since that morning, so he accompanied her into the terminal, carrying her bag so she wouldn’t strain her wrist. Once inside, Rhys went off to buy the tickets.

“You’re going to stop at Stonehaven, right?” Vanessa said. “Let Jeremy take a look at your shoulder when he gets home tonight?”

“I am, though I’m sure he’ll say that Rhys’s first-aid job is all it needs. That and some rest. Werewolves heal fast.”

She nodded and hoisted her purse. “Okay…”

“I’d like to see you again.”

She smiled. “To cash that rain check?”

He laughed. “No. Well, yes, but I’d just…I’d like to see you again.”

“I could come along and help you fix this werewolf bounty mess.”

“Ah. Okay. I’ll take the hint. I know you’re trying to be nice, but you can just say no. You wanted a fling. I understand that—”

She cut him off with a kiss, laughing when he started in surprise.

“Sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t resist. I definitely want to see you again, Nick. If we make it dinner, though, then we have to figure out where to meet and who travels, and it becomes this big production, with expectations and pressure and…” She made a face. “General awkwardness. I’m too old for that. But I would like to spend more time with you, see what happens. I think the best way we can do that is to work together on another case.”

“We could do that.”

“Is that a yes?”

He leaned down and kissed her. “Yes.”