Panther's Claim (Bitten Point #2) (7 page)

T
here were
times in a person’s life when they met someone they just immediately felt connected to. Someone you trusted and couldn’t get enough of.

Growing up, Cynthia had found Aria. They had that connection, but as they’d gotten older, they moved on to new opportunities—and discovered boys.

Cynthia went to vet school and found a career. Aria went through a series of odd jobs before her most recent departure on a quest to find out what she wanted in life.

Despite the fact that they led two completely different lives, when Aria went missing, Cynthia didn’t hesitate to go looking for her and, in the process, found Daryl. A man with whom she felt a strengthening connection, especially now that she was pretty sure he was one of the good guys. He and his friends certainly seemed determined to dig at what happened in Bitten Point. They were doing things, investigating, just like real PIs.

She was pretty sure that was even cooler than being a kidnapping gangster. The less exciting part was realizing there could be danger.

“Daryl?” She said his name softly and waited for him to reply. He currently thumped his hands on the steering wheel to some classic AC/DC song.

“I love it when you say my name like that, Cyn. What’s up, hot stuff?”

The man had the ability to make her heart go wild with just some huskily spoken words.

“Are we in danger?”

“What makes you ask?”

“Those things that attacked my motel room the other night, they could have killed us.”

“Yes, but we prevailed.”

But had they? “Those two creatures were kick ass. I mean, maybe you might have done all right with them, but let’s admit it.” She peeked down at her curves in their snug black yoga pants and her hip-length, cowl-necked, coral pink T-shirt. “This body was made for things other than fighting.”

I don’t know about that. I do like wrestling.
Wrestling wasn’t fighting if done naked.

“You were quick on your feet.”

“I threw a pillow at it.” And tried to play fetch with a dogman, but she didn’t mention that failure.
Because it might have worked with a real stick.
She totally believed that.

“The sheer shock of that bought you a few seconds.”

“If by shock you mean mocking. But seriously, the point I’m making is those things should have been able to take me out.”

“You think they were trying to incapacitate us, not kill us.”

“Yes and no. I think our visitor, dogman, was trying to kill us. He came in quiet and he went after us, but that lizard thing didn’t.”

“It smashed through the window. It fought me.”

“You dove on it. You guys didn’t fight long before dogman was back.”

“Then it came after you.”

A totally pee-her-pants moment, but even she had to admit, “It was coming after me slowly.”

“So he likes to tease his prey. Not unusual for a predator. Sometimes we like to play with our food.”

“You’re a cocky guy.”

“More than you can imagine, Cyn.”

How he made her shiver when he said her name in that tone.

“So this guy we’re going to see, he’s a—”

Wham!

The impact of something big hitting the car rattled her entire body. The world fragmented into a loud crash. Screaming metal. Vivid cursing. Her head snapped to the side, and her breath whooshed from her.

Cynthia flailed her hands, not that it did a thing to help as their vehicle went screeching across pavement because something shoved them.

A glance to the side showed Daryl’s jaw taut and his eyes intent. “Fuck! Hold on, honey. I’ll get us out of this.”

Exactly how was he planning to do anything?

Their car, shoved across the asphalt, hit the other side and then teetered along the ditch.

“Unbuckle,” Daryl yelled over the noise.

“Why?”

“Unbuckle now,” he shouted again.

As her fingers jumped to obey, the car tilted, enough that she could feel herself falling toward Daryl.

This wasn’t good. With a click she barely heard over the crunching of metal, the seatbelt unclipped, and she lost that restraining strap. She barely had time to catch herself before the car went over almost completely. It hit the angle of the ditch on the other side, her window facing the sky.

A thump rocked the car, and it didn’t take a genius to realize something had landed on the car, especially since, a moment later, a face leered at her through her unbroken window.

Crack.
The window spiderwebbed as it was struck by a meaty fist.

She shrieked.

“Let me past you,” Daryl demanded. He was crouched under her somehow, but with her wedged in the way, he was unable to stand or go any further.

“You want the psycho outside, you take him.” To those who said she was chicken, she said try smart. Strength came from making the right decision. Foolish pride had no place here, so she let the person most capable take care of the situation.

Someone shattering the window and shoving a hand in with a gun?
More of a Daryl problem
, she thought from her spot in the back. She’d managed a quick wiggle and just in time, too, because, when that fist holding the gun dropped in through the broken window, Daryl lunged and yanked.

She preferred to not think what the cracking sound meant. Still, it didn’t stop her wince at the bellow of a man in pain, a man pissed and wanting to do very vile things to Daryl.

I don’t think many of his ideas are physically possible.

Undaunted by the promise of pain, Daryl laughed as the arm was withdrawn. “I’d like to see you try.”

With those daring words, Daryl gripped the side of the window and, limber as a gymnast, lifted himself through.

Dude had some serious muscle.

Alone, she had to decide what to do. Only a coward would stay inside the car, and much as it appealed to hide, she had to do something.

She grabbed the front seats and poked her head through, only to squeak and yank back as a body fell atop the broken passenger side window. The head of a stranger, the hair short and almost platinum, dangled, blocking her escape…at least from the front. Here in the back, she had other options, and she rapidly took stock of them

She stood in the back, her feet on the window of the other door. She had access to a door, but she already knew if she tried to open it, gravity would work against her. Not to mention if there was another guy atop there, and he stood on it, she’d never get it open enough. But that wasn’t the only way out.

I have to break this window. But how?
She had no weapon, and her shoes were floppy.

But your fist is solid.

Her wolf recoiled. Ow.

Yeah, ow, but she couldn’t stay in here when she could hear something happening outside.

She pulled back her fist, and her wolf snapped in her head,
Wrap it first.

Protect it. She didn’t think twice of yanking off her shirt. She wore the bra she’d salvaged from her previous outfit and yoga pants.

The fabric of her top wound around her knuckles. She pulled back and let loose, and lost her balance as her fist hit nothing.

“Eep,” she squeaked, falling face first into the seat. Better than gravel. She peered at the open doorway.

Daryl stood framed in it with his feet braced on the car’s body. He let out a low whistle. “Is that for me?”

A shy girl might have crossed her arms over her boobs. A saucy one would push her breasts out.

A smart woman would hold up her arms and say, “Get me out of here. I smell gas.”

A stream of curse words left Daryl’s lips as he reached in to grab her wrists. He yanked her from the wreck just as they both registered the sound of screeching tires.

Standing on top of the wrecked car, she had a moment to see a black SUV scream to a stop. A body limped to it and opened the rear passenger door. The driver’s window lowered, but the angle of the sun made it impossible to see inside.

Click
.
Flicker
. A flame danced atop the lighter held in the other vehicle’s window.

Surely they wouldn’t dare toss it. After all, their groaning comrade was on the wreck with them.

The flame on the butane lighter didn’t waver, the lit wick able to handle a little toss, a perfectly arched throw that her eyes tracked to where it landed in the bed of the pickup truck pinning them in the ditch. A pickup truck loaded with barrels of fertilizer.

Uh-oh.

Before Cynthia could scream, she was hurtling off the car, mostly because Daryl was yanking her. The landing on the ground proved jarring, but that wasn’t what made her whoosh her breath. Daryl landed atop her, covering her with his body.

But the worst had yet to come.

Boom!

The world exploded.

I
f Daryl ignored
the T-shirt that he’d borrowed from Constantine to replace his shredded one, Daryl wasn’t doing all that bad.

The ringing in his ears from the explosion had mostly stopped. The singed hair would grow back. Cyn was spared it all because he’d shielded her, and he’d lost his T-shirt only because they needed it to stop the blood.

He’d not emerged unscathed from the incident.

When he’d first rolled off Cyn, the intense heat and smoke making him hack—and, no, he did not need any hairball remedies—he’d known some shrapnel from the exploded car and truck had hit him.

However, he was less worried about that than the inferno only yards away. The intense flames and billowing smoke saw him reaching down to drag Cyn to her feet and limp off into the farmer’s field. They crushed the burgeoning stalks in their stagger until Daryl deemed them far enough to take a break.

He dropped to a crouch, facing back where they came, while Cyn sank down beside him.

“Are we safe here?” she asked.

Boom
. The explosion shook the ground, but nothing rained down on them.

“I’d say yes so long as the fire doesn’t start moving our way.”

Given the direction of the breeze, it seemed unlikely, but with one of mother nature’s deadly weapons, you never knew.

He spotted her shivering as shock set in.

“Those people were trying to kill us.”

“Yes, and might not be done trying, so try and stay low. I don’t know how well they can see through all that smoke, but I’d rather not let them know right yet that we made it out alive.”

“You think they’ll try again?” She practically squeaked the words.

He hoped not because, given their recent hardcore attempt, he might not be enough to keep Cyn safe.

A smart guy knew when he needed allies. He yanked his phone from his pocket and hit speed dial. Wes answered on the first ring.

“What is it?” Wes snapped. “I was kind of busy.”

Daryl kept it to the point. “Attacked on fourteenth line just past the giant culvert. Call the fire department. And I’m gonna need a first aid kit.”

“Are you all right?” Wes said in one ear while Cyn muttered, “I don’t need any Band- Aids.”

“A few bruises and cuts, no biggie.”

“Daryl! What is sticking out of your back?” Cyn’s shriek made his features pull, mostly because Wes snickered.

“See you in a few. Hope you survive.”

That was in question and not because of his shrapnel hit, but because Cyn’s shrieking panic might lead the killers to them.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s no big deal.”

She gaped at him. “No big deal? There’s a chunk of metal sticking out of your back.”

“That might explain why it hurts a little. Pull it out, would you, and press your hands on it. It will slow down the flow of blood.”

“Are you insane?”

“Impaled. They don’t sound anything alike.”

“I can’t believe you want me to yank that thing out. You need a hospital.”

“Why, when I have a vet?”

“Being a vet doesn’t mean I know how to fix you in this shape.” She gestured to his body.

“I’ll admit there’s only one long and hard shape I really want you to fix, but if that’s going to happen, then first, you need to pull this piece of metal out of me. It smarts.”

“Smarts?”

“Hurts like fucking hell. Now would you pull it?”

As she’d antagonized him, she’d actually been checking out the wound. He wondered if she was doing it on purpose to distract him. Did she think he was a pussy?

Nothing wrong with a majestic cat,
his panther sniffed.

“Good news. The chunk isn’t thick. Think sheet metal rather than spiked. And I don’t think it went too deep.”

He wondered if she was biting that lower lip as she gently palpated his skin. “Pull it.”

“Should I count?” she asked.

“Pull it.”

“Are you sure? I mean, what if—” Yank, and then another tug.

He bellowed as fabric jammed against him. “What the hell?”

“I pulled it out like you wanted.”

“You could have warned me.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to count.”

“That was before I knew you were yanking out two pieces.”

“Don’t be such a baby.”

Was she chiding him? “I’m not crying.”

“Whining is just as unattractive.”

“I don’t whine,” he sulked.

“Sure you don’t,” she teased, kneeling by his side. It was then he truly noted what she wore. Or didn’t.

The bra could barely contain those ripe peaches. Those pants hugged her curves.

I wanna hug those curves. And lick ’em.

An open field was maybe not the ideal seduction spot, but a man took what he had. Of course, it helped if she saw things his way.

“I don’t suppose you’re into kissing booboos better?” he inquired with a hopeful lilt.

“Daryl! This isn’t the time or place.”

“Does that mean that’s a yes for somewhere else?”

“No. I mean, maybe. I mean—we’re over here!” she shouted over his shoulder, having spotted the tall strides of Wes.

And there went their alone moment. It became an hour or more of sirens, along with people in official uniforms with questions. More questions. During that time, he acquired a new T-shirt and Cyn’s boobs were covered—in another man’s shirt. Another male’s scent.

Grrr.

No amount of rubbing himself against Cyn could erase Wes’s scent from it, and the jerk knew it by his smirk.

As to their story for the authorities?

Chalked down to an unfortunate accident. The pickup truck came out of the side road, not seeing them, and plowed into their vehicle. The burnt body found wedged through the window of the car was written off as a Good Samaritan thinking they were still in there and coming to their aid.

The fact that the same Good Samaritan had a gun was glossed over. Just like the fact that Daryl was injured didn’t make it onto the report.

If no one human knew about his injuries, then in a few days, when he was healed, no one would take note.

As the chaos died down, he and Cyn leaned against Wes’s well-kept Bronco. A fireman in yellow pants held by suspenders and wearing a heavy jacket strode toward them, pulling his helmet off as he approached.

Constantine tossed his hat onto the fire truck before continuing their way, unsnapping his jacket as he came. “Fucking thing is hot.”

“But keeps your skin baby soft,” Wes snorted. “What’s the word on the fire?”

“Officially, the guy driving the pickup, high on fumes from the leaking fertilizer in his truck, slammed into your car and took you into the ditch. Not realizing you were gone, he was checking inside your car when the plant shit ignited, kaboom.”

“And, unofficially, we just learned that there is a connection between what happened a few years ago and now.” Because there was no denying a correlation now. Too many coincidences meant something was fishy.

“I don’t get what they’re worried about us finding. I mean, they seemed to wipe their tracks pretty good.” Cyn’s two cents.

“Good or not, they were worried enough to send some guys to take us out.” It still chilled Daryl to know how close Cyn had come to peril.

“If it’s intentional, then doesn’t that mean they knew where we were going?” Cyn pointed out. “And if they were that determined to stop us, what about that Gary we were on our way to see?

A sudden silence descended, broken by the abrupt crackle on a police scanner.

“Code 10-80. 139 Weeping Willow Lane.”

“Isn’t that Gary’s house?” Wes asked.

Indeed it was Gary’s house, on fire, with Gary in it. The old man lived, but only because he managed to crawl outside, where he passed out on the grass.

An ambulance had taken him away to the town’s clinic. His age made his injuries grievous, but the stubborn coot would survive. He was too tough not to.

Gary’s house, unfortunately, didn’t fare so well. Amazing how an old home, with original timber frame and siding, filled with books and magazines and newspapers, burned. It burned to the ground. Not a shred of paper left. Ashes for clues and a dead end in their investigation.

With it being close to happy hour, they hit a bar where they figured there was little chance of being questioned. The only place in town where everyone minded their business. The Itty Bitty.

Of course, Cynthia didn’t see the logic in their choice. She stood in shock, eyes wide as she took in the sights, before exclaiming, “You brought me to a titty bar?”