Hard Mated (16 page)

The truck’s back window opened and the barrel of the shotgun came out. Myka hit the bottom of the truck bed, trying to cover her ears as the gun roared.

“Got one!” the shooter announced.

Myka popped up again, craning to see. The bike closest to the back of the truck wobbled around, as though the rider had lost control. The glare of lights showed tatts all over that rider’s bare torso, blood dripping down his chest and arms.

“Spike!” Myka screamed.

Spike shot toward the pickup in a burst of speed, then launched himself from the bike to the back of the truck. His skin changed to the jaguar’s as he made the jump, powerful back legs propelling him. The bike spun out on the road, the other two bikers swerving to miss it.

The gun came out again. Myka rocked onto her back and kicked up with her legs, her feet catching the barrel of the shotgun and knocking it aside.

The shooter didn’t drop the gun, but the waver gave Spike enough time to grab the barrel with his half-shifted hands and haul it out of the pickup’s cab. The shooter came with it, his big body breaking the window.

Spike dragged the Shifter rest of the way out by the neck, his hands right around the man’s Collar. Spike banged the thug’s head hard against the cab then threw him out of the moving truck.

At the same time, Gavan’s driver hit the brakes. Spike dropped to the bed of the truck, landing on Myka, keeping her from being slammed forward as the truck went from ninety to zero in a matter of seconds.

Spike’s hot blood dripped all over Myka as he closed one huge hand around the cuffs and broke the chain from the hook. Then he was gone, leaping over the side of the truck to meet Gavan and his remaining two fighters.

Myka scrambled up, her wrists still encased in the cuffs, but at least they were free of the chain. She climbed over the truck’s tailgate, landing on shaking legs. The other two motorcycles roared up, the bikers ditching their bikes and running to help.

Myka recognized Ellison, minus his cowboy hat, and Dylan, clad only in a pair of jeans, his feet bare. They both joined the fight against Gavan and his two thugs.

Myka ran past them all to the open door of the pickup. Jordan lay curled in the middle of the seat as a jaguar, sleeping soundly, his little body limp. Myka lifted him as gently as she could and cradled him against her shoulder.

She turned back to the struggle. Spike was fighting harder than he ever had in the ring, his Collar sparking wildly in the darkness. So much blood streamed down him, black in the gloom, that it looked as though his tattoos were running together and raining down his body.

Gavan fought him, the two men changing back and forth from man to beast, dust and grass flying as they hit the ground.

“You killed my cub,” she heard Spike saying in a guttural voice. “You killed my cub.”

“No!” Myka shouted. “Spike, he’s okay.”

Spike didn’t hear her. He beat Gavan’s head into the ground, and Gavan, white-eyed, locked his hands around Spike’s throat and started to crush.

“Spike!” Myka yelled. “
Eron!
Jordan’s all right. I have him.”

*** *** ***

Spike heard her shouting through the haze in his brain. Since Liam’s phone call to Ellison that he’d found Jordan, Spike had been running on fear and rage.

Ellison had actually stopped the fight, walking between the two combatants. No one had ever done that before. The refs had started for Ellison, then thought better of it when they found themselves confronting the wall of Dylan instead.

Sean had vanished, no one knew where, and Gavan was no longer in the hay barn. Spike had been out of the ring, grabbing his clothes and running as the refs and spectators complained behind him. Didn’t matter. He had to get Jordan.

The follow-up call Dylan got that Connor had been beaten down and Jordan and Myka taken had unleashed a feral rage Spike had never known.

He’d known Myka was in the back of the truck racing toward them on the highway, feeling her presence as palpably as he felt his own skin. Getting buckshot in the chest was nothing to the pain of knowing Gavan had taken her, had hurt her, would hurt her. And the man had dared touch his cub.

He’d caught a glimpse of Jordan lying limply on the seat, fur covered in blood, and he’d ceased to think.

Now he punched Gavan’s face again and again. “You killed my cub. You killed my cub.”

“Eron!”

No one called him that but his mate. His beautiful mate.

“Jordan’s all right. I have him!”

Spike couldn’t look up to make sure this was true. But Myka said it, his mate, and he heard the relief in her voice, smelled it in her scent.

Gavan’s hold on Spike loosened. Spike kept pounding, the Shifter in him wanting the death of his enemy. He’d rip off the man’s head and drink his blood.

Gavan went limp. Spike went on thumping the man’s head against the asphalt, claws digging into his neck. Spike’s Collar was arcing, had been continually, biting hot fire down his spine, and he’d never felt it.

“You took my son. You took my
son!
”

Strong hands jerked him back. Spike fought, wild and crazed. He’d kill them all. They’d dared touch his cub, his son, his
mate
.

Her fragrance cut through his rage like rain on a dry earth. She flowed around him, her warm body, her touch, her voice that wrapped his senses and didn’t let go.

“Eron, it’s all right. Jordan’s fine. I’ve got him.”

Myka had Jordan. She’d found him, wrapped him in her arms, protected him. The mate of his heart had rescued his cub.

Myka’s small, soft hand guided Spike’s to the downy fur of Jordan’s belly. The connection, the three of them together, cleared Spike’s vision. He blinked, finding himself lying on the pavement, one hand on his cub’s sleeping body, Myka kneeling beside him.

“Mate,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m here,” Myka said. She leaned to him, bathing him in her warmth, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m here.”

Pain like Spike had never felt before flooded his body, fire incandescent in his blood and along every nerve. But he kept one hand on his cub, twined his fingers through Myka’s, and knew he’d never felt better in his life.

*** *** ***

“Spike’s home for battered warriors,” Myka said, opening the door for Liam and Kim, Kim carrying Katriona. “Welcome.”

They lounged about Spike’s living room—Connor, Ellison, Ella, and Jordan. Spike was stretched out on the kitchen table while Dylan picked tiny pieces of shot out of Spike’s chest and legs. Myka’s cry that they should take him to a hospital was met with quiet stares. Arriving at a hospital with a gunshot wound meant alerting the police, Dylan said, and Spike didn’t need that.

“Shifters heal fast,” Spike had croaked as he’d staggered into the house, supported by Myka and Ellison. Dylan had at least given him a shot of local anesthetic before he started.

“Where’s Andrea?” Ellison asked as Liam, his face bruised and bloody, limped inside. Myka did not want to ask Liam what had happened to Nate. “Andrea and her healing juju? And Sean? What the hell happened to him?”

Liam’s face split into a grin. “Andrea’s a little busy. Sean’s with her.” The sparkle in his eyes was one of joy, and Kim smiled as hard as Liam did.

Connor leapt from the sofa. He looked worse than any of them—his face battered, one eye swollen shut, and he cradled his arm carefully across his chest—but he sprang to his feet with the vigor of youth. “Andrea’s having her cub!” he shouted.

“Holy shit,” Ellison said. “No wonder Sean vanished. The only thing that could make him take his eyes off Gavan would be a call like that.”

“He and Andrea are at the clinic with Ronan and his entourage,” Liam said. “Glory too. Waiting for the family to join them. Sorry, Spike.”

Spike lifted a hand and gave Liam a weak thumb’s-up gesture. “A cub coming in is way more important than me. I’ve only been shot.”

Dylan picked out another piece with tweezers and dropped it with a
tink
into a glass bowl. “I’ll catch up. He took most of the blast. If we save the pieces, we can fill up another couple cartridges.”

“No thanks,” Liam said. “Spike, boy-o, when you’re feeling better, come on down and say hello to the next Morrissey.”

“Go away,” Spike said, his voice too weak. “You’re hard to take when you’re chipper.” He held up his hand. “Tell Andrea the Goddess go with her and her cub. She’s strong, Liam, and a healer. She’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Spike.” Liam looked somber a moment. “The Goddess go with you too. You’re in good hands.”

“Ouch!” Spike jumped as Dylan dug deep. “Right. Sure.”

Ellison leveraged himself up, he too sporting plenty of bruises plus claw and bite marks. He leaned down and hugged Ella, who looked exhausted, then came to Myka and did the same.

“He’ll be fine,” Ellison said quietly to Myka as he held her. “He has you. The mate bond is an amazing thing.”

“Ellison,” Spike said, his voice holding the edge of a growl. “Get away from my mate, or I come off this table.”

Ellison laughed, gave Myka a final squeeze, and let her go. “You’re so screwed,” he said to Spike. “No more mateless nights, no more bachelor days. See ya, Spike. I’m going to go guard a lady having a cub.”

Myka stepped back so Ellison could go by, following the exuberant Connor, who paused long enough to give Myka a breath-stealing hug. “Guarding her?” Myka asked Kim.

Kim bounced Katriona, who was trying to eat her own fist. “It’s a Shifter thing. Friends and family gather while the mother has the cub. I guess in the old days, Shifters had to guard the females against predators while they gave birth.”

Made sense. Or would if Myka weren’t so worried about Spike.

Connor had assured Myka as they’d driven back to town that Andrea, Sean’s mate, had healing powers that would close up Spike so fast it would be like he’d never been opened. But now all seemed to think Spike would be fine without her.

Liam squeezed Myka’s shoulder. “Keep an eye on him, eh?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t need a hospital?”

Spike growled. “I hate hospitals.”

“So do I,” Myka said. She thought back to Jillian dying, the machines beeping. She didn’t want to see that again. And Dylan was right—they didn’t need to deal with the human police on top of everything else.

Liam squeezed Myka’s shoulder again as Kim said her good-byes and breezed out. “He just needs you,” Liam said softly. “The touch of a mate. Good night, kids.”

He caught up to Kim on the porch, slid his arm around her waist, and kissed her lips before leading her down to the street.

The touch of a mate.

He has you. The mate bond is an amazing thing.

The room went quiet, except for the clink of shot into the bowl, and Spike’s grunts of pain. Ella stood up and walked to her grandson, and Myka took her place next to Jordan on the sofa.

“Spike, I’m sorry,” Ella said. “I couldn’t protect him.”

Spike turned his head and reached out a hand to Ella. Ella took it and clasped it to her chest.

“Hey, that was Ronan’s job,” Spike said. “And Nate’s, the asshole. At one time I counted him my friend.”

“Nate’s dead,” Ella said. “Liam . . .”

Spike closed his eyes briefly then opened them again. “The Goddess go with him. Sean wasn’t there.”

Dylan answered curtly. “The woman Hannah is guarding him until Sean can come.”

Spike relaxed. “Thank the Goddess.”

“What does that mean?” Myka asked from the sofa.

“Means Sean will be able to stick the Sword of the Guardian into him,” Spike said. “Releasing his soul instead of letting it stay bound to the flesh. Nate did the unforgivable, but I wouldn’t wish that on him.”

Nate had died tonight, and Andrea had gone into labor. Death and life continued its cycle.

Spike swallowed. “Course I thought I’d wake up to see the end of that sword coming at
me
.”

“No, son,” Dylan said. “You’ll hurt a little bit, but you’ll be fine.”

“What happens to Gavan?” Myka asked.

They’d put Gavan and his three thoroughly beaten thugs back into Gavan’s pickup, then Dylan had driven them off somewhere, after loading his motorcycle into the back as well. Ellison and Liam had retrieved the other motorcycles, fitting Spike, his bike, Connor, and Myka into the white pickup. Ellison had driven the pickup back to Shiftertown, Myka squashed between the injured Shifters and holding Jordan, while Liam had followed on Ellison’s motorcycle.

Now Dylan said, “Gavan didn’t make it. He’s waiting with Nate to go to the Summerland.”

“Oh,” Myka said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know whether he’d died of the wounds Spike had given him or whether Dylan had helped things along.

Dylan continued, “I laid out Gavan’s boys in his front yard for anyone passing to see. Liam and I and their Shiftertown leader will deal with them. They’ll find themselves so low in the hierarchy that they’ll have to climb a ladder to kiss anyone’s ass.”

“That’s it?” Myka asked. “They did help kidnap Jordan—and me—and tried to kill Spike and Connor.”

“Trust me, lass, in the Shifter world, it’s living death to be taken down the chain,” Dylan said. “No one will trust them, no one will help them. They’ll spend years upon years making amends for what they’ve done this night.”

“Gavan’s name will be cursed,” Spike said, sounding satisfied, if weak. “I hope he enjoys his corner of hell with Fergus.”

Dylan clinked a final ball into the bowl then put down the tweezers and swabbed Spike’s chest with antiseptic. “That’s it,” he said to Myka. “Keep him warm, keep him clean, and he’ll be fine. Now I have a grandson to help bring in.”

For the first time since Myka had met him, Dylan looked lighthearted. He didn’t quite smile, but the corners of his lips definitely twitched.

Dylan walked out onto the dawn-lit porch, stopped, and turned back, skewering Myka with a Shifter gaze. “We’ll talk about the bullet hole in my windshield later.”

“Yep,” Myka said. “And in your seatback. I won’t say sorry, because I’m happier with it there than inside me.”