Perfect Mate (26 page)

Bullets slammed into the ground around them, explosions spewing dirt and worse into the air making them dodge. She screamed in terror and hung on for dear life.
 

Nic was three steps behind them, running low and fast to avoid becoming a target for the guns above. She looked like a goddess of war, covered in blood and her ice-blue eyes inhuman in the spotlights. Lillian stared as she took three running steps and launched herself into the air. Hands forward and her body a graceful arc, Lillian thought she was going to crash into one of the broad treetrunks they passed.

She didn’t. Instead her body changed in mid-air. The human form collapsed in on itself and the wolf-woman exploded out of it like some kind of organic origami. Using the trunk as a springboard, she veered off to the left, howling a warning.
 

Bullets slammed into the trees as Jack sprinted through them, changing direction to follow Nic. The wolf-woman’s slender figure wove and dodged through the trees, with the rest of the pack following her.
 

They were surrounded. Searchlights stabbed through the trees from all directions. The gunships hovered, trying to get a clear shot at them through the thick branches overhead. Shouts and yells accompanied smaller caliber bullets as they flew and zipped from everywhere. The wolves yipped and danced as though they were being harassed by hornets.
 

They were being herded somewhere. Panic filled Lillian’s chest. She could see where this was going. They would herd the wolves into a clearing, a killing ground, and wipe them out. The fact that she’d be in the middle of the slaughter made no difference. Her encounter with the soldiers had made it clear that, if they got hold of her, she was a dead woman. But her heart ached for the wolves. They’d done nothing wrong, other than serve their country, and look where it had got them. Hunted down like dogs.
 

“Left, left!” she yelled, pointing at a gap through the trees as Jack swung around. Just beyond a small group of soldiers sat the distinct shape of troop vehicles. Armored Humvees painted black. Unbidden amusement swam up. Add some bling wheels and they wouldn’t look out of place on the streets. But she wasn’t interested in the wheels—she was interested in the heavy-duty gun mounted on the top of one.

The pack wheeled as one. Fear and terror showed in the eyes of the soldiers as the wolves broke away and ran the gauntlet instead of taking the easy option they were being herded toward. Lillian’s lips quirked. Served them right for treating the wolves as dumb mutts when they were anything but.
 

Bullets meant nothing as the wolf pack slammed into the line with a ferocity that would leave survivors with nightmares for the rest of their lives. If there had been any. Within seconds, the wolves had rolled through, rendering living, breathing soldiers to bloodied remains.
 

“Nic, Sanders! Designated drivers!” Jack speed-shifted to human and yelled as the team swarmed through the gap they’d made in the human forces. Instantly the two wolves broke off and ran toward the trucks. By the time they reached the doors, they were both in human form. Hardy as their other forms were, paws were useless for driving.

“Richards, man the gun. I want those ships gone!”

As the sergeant vaulted into the back of the second vehicle, Jack wrenched the door to the first open and put Lillian down in the passenger seat as Nic fired it up.
 

“Stay,” he ordered, cupping her cheek with a gentle hand. Covered in blood, she looked terrified, her eyes wide and dark. “It’ll be okay. Nic will look after you.”

He shut the door, encasing her in its bulletproof cocoon. She’d be safe now, and he could concentrate on what he needed to do without worrying about a stray bullet taking everything that mattered from him. He rejoined the battle, leaping into the open back of the troop carrier to grab an unsecured rifle.
 

The Humvees roared to life, careening out of the clearing and through the narrow forest roads. In the other vehicle, Richards had the machine gun up and running. The heavy weapon spat death and destruction at the gunships above them as the rest of the pack dealt with the human troops. Jack didn’t spend too long looking. He had better things to do and, despite the fact that they were all easy with nudity, there was something about a guy firing a machine gun while butt-naked that was just
wrong.
 

“Take that, you bastards!” Jack snarled, rifle tight into his shoulder as he took down soldier after soldier with the Project’s own weapons. They died easy. The lucky ones. They’d get a full military funeral with honors. Their names would be remembered with pride.
 

They wouldn’t be forced into a cage bed and infected, then used in experiments to satisfy scientific curiosity. They wouldn’t end their days with a bullet to the back of the head and be buried in an unmarked grave.
 

The breakneck chase through the trees didn’t last long. Richards was a man of many talents. Apart from his plumbing prowess, he was the best gunner among them. The big weapon danced under his hands, the bullets cutting through the air and branches alike, the former crashing down onto the men who tried to follow them.
 

The trees opened up, the air above them clear. Time slowed to a crawl as the gunships roared into view. A wordless war cry erupted from Richards’ throat as he wrenched the machine gun around. Bullets tore the air, lighting it up like a fourth of July parade. They traced a delicate line toward the helicopters. Jack held his breath. They slammed into the side of the first gunship, tearing metal up as they sought the blade motors.
 

He had to hand it to Richards—the guy didn’t waste time. No messing around trying to bust the bulletproof glass to get to the pilot for him. No, if he needed a chopper out the air, he simply removed its ability to remain airborne.

Two blades shredded on contact. The gunship groaned and listed to the side, like a fly with its wings pulled off. The other one was too close, couldn’t move out the way quickly enough. The remaining blades on the crippled ship swung around, slicing through the metal of the second like a hot knife through butter. Both tumbled toward the ground, trashing trees as the troops in the back were flung clear like ragdolls.
 

Jack pounded on the roof behind him. “Incoming! Faster!”

The Humvee lurched under his feet as Nic put her foot down, the vehicle threatening to shake apart as she pushed it past its operational limits. She wouldn’t. Nic was an excellent driver, always able to coax everything from whatever she drove. Clinging to the side of the turret like the rest of the pack, Jack didn’t care even if she did trash the thing. It was a Project vehicle; he didn’t have to worry about paying the bills. All he cared about was putting distance between them and the tumbling, rolling mass of fire and death bearing down on them.
 

Locked together the gunships crashed into the trees. Metal screamed.
Thump…thump…thump.
The second ships blades still rotated, trying to pull away from certain death, even with its cockpit shorn in two and blood decorating the inside of the windscreen.
 

The valiant effort was for nothing. The nose of the first ship kissed the ground and caught. It tumbled, taking its partner with it. Both rolled, metal folding and fire blossoming in a hypnotic dance. Jack held his breath as a blade came loose, cartwheeled, and missed the second pack vehicle by a hairbreadth. Then they were free, the roar of the Humvees’s powerful engines carrying them into the darkness and to safety.

They escaped into the darkness of night. The powerful vehicles roared along the forest roads at breakneck speed, careening around corners and taking out smaller trees growing too close to the dirt tracks. Great. The Project wouldn’t need a tracker to follow their trail—even a kid could draw them a map. Standing in the back of the first vehicle, Jack closed his eyes for a second and let the cool air wash over him as they climbed higher, past the foothills and into the mountains proper. They needed to ditch the vehicles, and fast.
 

Finally, he deemed they were clear enough and pounded on the cabin roof again. They’d taken down the gunships and stolen the Project’s transport. For an hour or two, at least until those they’d left alive could summon backup from base, they were safe.
 

The vehicles pulled to a stop in the next clearing and the pack de-bused, lean, naked bodies leaping with inhuman grace from the armored vehicles to crowd around Jack.
 

“Everyone okay?”
 

He did a quick head count as Sanders slid out the cabin of the second vehicle. Instantly, the wolf’s eyes searched the pack, hopping from one member to another until he found what he was looking for. Relief in his eyes as he spotted the tall form of Richards, skipping over the others. Jack sighed inwardly. That was a situation that needed sorting, and quickly.
 

“We’re down one,” Richards said bluntly, looking around.
 

Jack did a quick head count. “They must have Darce. He wasn’t with Lillian when we found her. We—”

“Boss, we got a problem.”

Jack waved his hand at the sound of Nic’s voice behind him. “Hold one, Nic. Right, they have Darce, so we need to go b—”

“Boss! You reall—”

“Nic!” He all but roared in frustration, his voice sharp with worry for his second in command. “I’m dealing with some—”

“Lillian has been shot.”

Three little words. Unlike those other three little words, these were ones no man wanted to hear in his lifetime. Not when applied to his mate, the woman he loved.
 

The ground surged beneath his feet, a great yawning chasm trying to swallow him up. He couldn’t allow that. Gritting his teeth, he forced steel into his backbone and looked at his men anew.
 

“Richards, sort a recon. Two men. Find out where Darce is. Don’t let them see you, don’t get caught. Everyone else, secure the perimeter.”

The orders spilled from his lips automatically, his training taking over despite the fear clawing at his gut. Wheeling, he was around the Humvee in a heartbeat. He wrenched the door open. The smell of blood hit him. Old blood, mixed with dirt. Nic had to be wrong, if his mate had been shot, there would be fresh blood.
 

Lillian rested back against the seat, looking pale and still. Jack’s heart plummeted from its sudden leap of hope. Too pale and still. Her chest barely moved, just the slightest flutter to indicate she was still alive.
 

“Sweetheart? You okay?”
 

He leaned in to brush his fingers over her cheeks. At his touch, her eyelids moved, lashes fluttering like dark crescents on her alabaster cheeks.
 

She opened her eyes and smiled. Jack’s fear became crippling, slicing his insides to shreds while he was powerless to do anything about it. Her eyes held Death, and he was almost here.
 

“Hiya, handsome.” Her voice was little more than a whisper. “Did we get clear?”

“Yeah. We’re safe. Sweetheart…look at me,” he ordered as her head fell to the side, her eyes beginning to close.
 

“Where are you hurt?”

He tried to soften his voice, but it still emerged as a bark, raspy with pain and worry. Her head rolled on the back of the seat as she tried to focus on him.
 

“Everywhere. My back. I can’t feel my legs, Jack.”
 

Panic rang in her voice as she tried to move. Her eyes widened, the whites clearly visible as she struggled against the seat. As she did, her back came away from the vinyl and the scent of blood and worse washed over him.
 

He swallowed, fighting back bile as he carried on stroking her cheek to get her to calm down. She was gut-shot. Which meant, out here, she was dead. Internal bleeding and the contents of her stomach or intestine would already be fouling her abdominal cavity.
 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. When were you shot?”
 

He cast a glance at the door, looking for the bullet holes. There weren’t any. She must have been shot when he was carrying her and he’d missed it under everything else when he’d put her in the car. A low moan welled up and tried to claw its way out of his throat. One he quickly swallowed to avoid panicking her further.
 

“Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay. But I need to know…when were you shot? In the Humvee or before?”

She was panting, her breathing fast and light. He didn’t need to test her pulse to know it would be fast and faint, fluttering like a tiny bird in a cage. Shock. She’d lost too much blood. Tears stabbed the back of his eyes like hot pokers as pain stole his breath.
 

“Please Jack, help me.” She lifted her hand from where it rested on the seat. It was covered in fresh blood. Hers. “Please, I don’t want to die.”

Jack froze as he realized what she was saying. She clutched his arm, her fingers biting deep with the strength of the dying. Her dark eyes pleaded with him, tears spilling over her lashes.
 

“I can’t, sweetheart. I wish to God I could, but—”

Her hand dropped, and his wolf howled in rage at his words. For the first time ever, the beast within raged against him, slamming against the bars of its confinement to be free. Jack gritted his teeth and fought for control as it tried to break loose from its prison of flesh. He could read its intent: to get free and bite Lillian.