Rae, Beverly - Chasing Cally [Night Runner Werewolves 2] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Special Edition) (7 page)

Cally matched the girl’s exuberance, took her hand, then led her up the steps to the front door. “Don’t tell me Zach Timmons likes you!”

The little girl squealed and nodded until Max thought her head might fall off. “Oh, my gosh. I told Missy that I liked Zach at lunch, then Missy told Sally, and she told Willy.”

“And did Willy tell Zach? What did Zach say?”

“Well, Zach told Willy who told Sally who told Missy who told me that he did like me. Plus, he’s going to invite me to his birthday party next week.”

“Wow, that’s wonderful,
Brittany
. How about we grab a little ice cream and you can tell me all about it?”

“Goodie.” The little girl skipped into the house.

Cally stopped at the door and, almost as though she sensed him, she turned and scanned her front yard. Worry knitted her brows, making his heart ache.

What was her look about? Why was she worried? Did it have something to do with him? Max ran a hand over his face. Had he made yet another mistake? He couldn’t just walk up and knock on her door now. Could he?

He climbed back into his pickup and leaned his forearms on the wheel.

Cally has a kid.

Of all the barriers he’d imagined between them, her having a child wasn’t one of them. But it was a problem. Not that he didn’t want kids—he did and a lot of them—but no werewolf had ever brought another man’s child, a human child, into the pack. At least not without major trouble.

“Crap. When am I going to catch a break?”

Michael, the alpha of the pack, had brought Sara, the alpha-female, into the pack and that hadn’t been easy. First, he’d lured her to them with dreams and then, once she’d seen them shift into werewolves, she’d fled straight into the arms of a killer werebear. Right now, however, he’d gladly face down a killer than deal with a mate bringing along a child.

He needed advice. Turning on the motor, he started to pull away from the curb when another car whisked by him, almost scraping the side of the truck. “Hey! Watch where you’re going!”

The older, rust-covered Mustang slammed to a stop, blocking Cally’s car in her driveway. Max frowned as a big, burly brute of a man hurled his body out of the car and dashed down the walkway toward the house.

He reached the door and pounded on it. “That bitch of mine better get her ass out of there or I’m going to break down the fucking door.” When nothing happened, he kicked the door twice then yelled more obscenities.

“Aw, hell. This can’t be good.” Max flung his door open.

Chapter Four

Cally jumped at the loud bang on the door, her breath catching in her throat.

“Oh, God.” Lena Horton,
Brittany
’s mother, reached for the child, and hugged her close. The girl, her eyes wide with fright, clung to her mother, a frightened whimper escaping her.

Shouts mixed with more pounding, making nearby windows rattle.

“It’s him.”
Lena
’s voice squeaked.

Cally’s adrenaline ramped into high gear, and she brought a finger to her lips. “Shush. Whisper.”

“But how did he find us?”
Lena
’s hand trembled as she brought her palm to her chest. “I didn’t tell anyone where we went.”

Cally shook her head, her mind whirring, trying to figure out what to do. Should they make a mad dash to her car? Or run out the back way? “Neither did I. Someone must’ve seen us talking the other day when I ran into you at the Women’s Aid Society.” She loved volunteering at the counseling office, but the stories she heard often left her in tears.
Lena
was an old friend from high school, so she’d offered to take her and her daughter in for safekeeping.

“What are we going to do?”
Lena
tugged at her hair, a habit that surfaced whenever she was afraid.

“I know one thing we’re not going to do. We won’t let him haul you two back home.” As frightened as she was, Cally resolved not to let Carl,
Lena
’s husband, hurt her friend again. “Hurry to the back room and lock the door.” She tossed
Lena
her cell phone. “And call the sheriff.”

“But what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Cally took her friend by the shoulders and pushed her toward the small kitchen and the back room beyond. “I’ll be fine. But whatever you do, whatever you hear, you don’t come out until I tell you everything’s all right. Got it?”

Lena
took
Brittany
’s hand and tugged her along with her. She paused, then turned back. “Cally?”

“Yeah?” She reached behind the old upright piano her grandmother had left her and plucked the baseball bat out of hiding.
Thank you, Sadie, for my bat.

“I’m so sorry.” A tear tracked down
Lena
’s face, her stringy blonde hair and sad gray eyes sending a twinge of pity into Cally’s heart.

 
“You have nothing to be sorry about. Now get going.” Cally whirled around as another barrage of pounding shook the door.

Taking a big breath, she stalked over to the door and flattened her palms against it. “Who the hell are you?” No way would she let on that she already knew. Her own safety as well as
Lena
’s and her child’s depended on her lying.

“
Lena
Horton, get your scrawny ass out here right this minute.” Carl’s words were slurred with alcohol. “If you don’t, I’m going to fuckin’ kill you, bitch.”

“This isn’t Lena Horton’s place. I’m Cally Sheridan, and I’m calling the sheriff if you don’t get off my property.” She hoped
Lena
had already called, but maybe, if she was lucky, the threat of calling the sheriff would be enough to make Carl leave.

“I know she’s in there.”

A louder bang brought a mind-sickening crack as her door shuddered under Carl’s assault. Peeking out the small window running the length of the door, she saw Carl rear back, ready to kick.

She scrambled out of the way a second before the door burst open and Carl charged in. Raising the bat in front of her, she planted her feet and stood her ground. “Carl Horton, get the hell out of here.”

He searched her small home with bloodshot eyes. “Not until I get my kid and my woman.”

“I told you. They aren’t here.” She straightened as tall as she could, trying to look more intimidating, encouraged that her voice wasn’t shaking as much as her knees. “Now leave.”

He laughed, a cruel sound. “What’re you going to do if I don’t?” A sneer lifted the corner of his mouth. “I don’t see no phone. How’re you gonna call for help?”

“She doesn’t have to. Help is already here.”

Max stood in her doorway, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. He seemed calm, almost serene as he took in the broken door and the hulk of a man.

Relief washed over her. “Thank God,” she whispered.

He moved so fast she wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it. In less than a second, Max had Carl by the throat, holding him off the ground. The big man’s feet dangled in the air and his arms flailed. Soon, however, the brute struck out, hitting Max in the head.

Growling, Max tossed Carl away from him. The man landed on the floor, causing the lamp on a nearby table to fall and crash into pieces. Carl, stunned at first, managed to lumber to his feet and snatch the bat from Cally’s hands.

“Watch out!”

But her warning wasn’t needed as Max blocked Carl’s swing, then grabbed the bat and yanked it away. “Do you want to play ball?” Grinning, Max swung and landed a home run on Carl’s crotch.

“Argh!” Carl crumpled to the floor again, cupping his hands over his crotch and wailing in pain.

Max twirled the bat like a baton. “What? Already finished playing, big guy?”

Carl kept one hand over his crotch and covered his head with the other. “No. No more.”

The sound of a siren, then footsteps coming toward the house had Max and Cally turning toward the front door. Tim Bingham, the town’s newly appointed sheriff, his hand on the holster of his gun, slid to a stop and took in the carnage. “What happened here?”

Carl moaned, then rolled to his other side. Cally took the bat from Max and laid it against the piano. “This idiot broke down my door, then threatened to hurt me.”

“She’s got my wife and daughter holed up in here, sheriff.”

Tim buckled the strap back over his gun. “Is that true, Cally?”

She didn’t want to lie to the sheriff, but she couldn’t let Carl know the truth. Instead, she stared into Tim’s eyes and hoped he’d understand her silent message. “Now why would they be here?”

Tim studied her then nodded. “Uh-huh.” Turning to Max, he cocked his head to the side, disdain written on his face. “What’s your part in this? And are any of the others involved?”

Max stepped closer to Cally. “I’m just a good citizen helping out a woman in need.”

“Uh-huh.” Tim blew out a breath, reached over, and hauled Carl to his feet. “I tell you what. I’m going to take old Carl here down to the lockup and let him sleep it off. If you want to press charges, Cally, you’ll have to come down and talk to Judge Wilson in the morning.”

Cally bit her lip and wondered if she should press charges. Spending a few days behind bars would do Carl some good. But she knew his best friend, a lawyer, would have him out on bail before she even left the courthouse. Then what? Carl would be angrier than ever.

“I’ll let it go this time. But I’m going to put the bill for my new door on his tab at the hardware store.”

“Okay. It’s your choice. But if you change your mind, let me know.” Tim nodded his head and, keeping a firm grip on the big man, headed him toward the door. Suddenly, he pivoted around to glare at Max. “As for you, I think you’d better get on back to the ranch where you belong.”

Cally watched their interaction, getting the sense that the sheriff knew more than he said. Max didn’t respond and instead bent to pick up the broken lamp. Taking the hint, the sheriff muttered a curse under his breath and pushed Carl outside.

She watched Max as he cleaned up, mesmerized by the simple flexing of his arms. Granted he was as hot and sexy as any man she’d ever seen, but why did her stomach flip over every time she got close? He held an indefinable attraction for her, like chocolate to a love-starved housewife. Her mouth dried up in the same second wetness dampened her panties. She wanted to reach out to him, to snag him by his satiny, black hair and yank his mouth to hers.

Her knees still shook, but no longer from fear. Max Matheson was the sun her cold body needed, the water her parched soul yearned for.

“Why is it men always end up on the floor holding their junk whenever you’re around?”

He chuckled. “Hey, you’re the one you put the whammy on the first guy. I guess we just tend to think alike.”

I hope so
. She licked her lips, ready for the kiss she longed for.

“I’ll get a man over here to fix your door. Don’t worry about it.”

She let out a long slow breath and knelt beside him, helping to pick up the pieces of the lamp. “How?”

He looked at her, his dark eyes flecked with amber, making her wonder how his eyes could change. “How what? How will he fix your door?”

“No. How did you know I was in trouble?” She inhaled, trying not to be obvious about it but hoping to get closer to smell his unique, wild scent. He smelled like sunny days, windy nights all layered with an exotic cover of barely controlled danger. Yet unlike Carl, his edge of danger made her feel safe.

He stood then carried the broken shards to a nearby trash can. Turning, he grinned at her, the ghost of a mischievous little boy oozing from his demeanor. “Oh, you know. I just happened to be in the area.”

She dumped her bits of broken porcelain into the trash after his. “Uh-huh. And this ranch of yours? Is my house on the way there?”

“Could be.” He pulled her close, and she didn’t resist. “If you take the long way around town, past Sadie’s, and a few miles out into the plains.”

Damn, but she loved how he skimmed his hand along her arm. One touch and she was a human torch. “So you’re showing up to save the day again wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”

He darted his gaze away from hers, sighed, then came back with a serious expression. “Okay, I’ll confess. I followed you home from Sadie’s.”

She leaned away from him, surprised but not upset. “You’re stalking me?” Why that didn’t bother her and, in fact, thrilled her, she didn’t know.

He grimaced then cupped her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks. “Damn, I was worried you’d think so. But no. Well, I mean yes, I did follow you, but I’m not a stalker.”

“Your actions say otherwise.” She wanted to tease him, not just verbally, but physically, too. She arched an eyebrow. “I think maybe you need to tell me what’s on your mind. Am I right?”

His grin was back to melt her knees again. “You are.”

Again, his grin died too soon.
He changes emotions faster than a magician can pull a rabbit out of his hat.
“Then get on with it.”

“I wanted to apologize to you.”

“You mean for the way you acted at the bar?” Not that it mattered any longer. After all, who could stay mad at a hero?