Werewolves in Love 3: Ready to Run (6 page)

No matter—the wolf dropped to the steps. Mercedes Wolf and the new wolf—Bryan mentally dubbed him Suit Wolf—writhed and flopped about, yelling to each other in their language.

He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled as he stepped between them. “Keep it down or I’ll call the sheriff and tell him we’ve got a couple of werewolves at this sweet little old lady’s house. Do y’all know how they feel about werewolves around here?”

The two wolves froze, staring at each other, then at him.

The big wolf in the expensive suit snarled, “You are cop?”

Bryan ignored him. “Sara?” When she didn’t answer immediately, he called again, more harshly, “Sara! Answer m—”

“Nash?” Her voice, so thin and quavering, so terrified, shredded his heart. For a second he was tempted almost beyond tolerance to strip, shift and tear the shit out of both of them.

He’d have a hard time explaining wanton slaughter to the Feds, though, or to Nick Wargman. “Stay there, angel.
Don’t move
, hear me? You’re safe now.”

He had to make sure the wolves were immobile so he could tend to Sara. Problem was, you couldn’t tell how much silver it would take to kill a wolf. It depended on a lot of physiological factors particular to each individual, and he’d done so well in bringing them down alive…

“Oh, fuck it,” he muttered. He’d have to take his chances with more bullets.

Both wolves were still flopping around, the big guy in the suit trying to drag himself across the porch and back into the house, the moron from the Mercedes just scooting around on his ass as if it would accomplish anything.

He had to believe these two weren’t typical of the wolves who made up Kuba’s gang. If they were, then cops in four major metro areas and two federal agencies should eat their service revolvers.

Bryan kicked Mercedes Wolf in the head, knocking him back to the ground. He leaned down and fired a bullet straight into an elbow, like punching a nail gun into sheetrock.

Mercedes Wolf screamed. Bryan reached down, grabbed a hand, and twisted all five fingers ’til he heard them pop. Then he did the same thing to the other hand. Mercedes Wolf passed out.

Suit Wolf had managed to get back up to the edge of the porch, walking on his hands and dragging his useless legs behind him. Bryan grasped an ankle and pulled the guy back down. Suit Wolf’s chin and nose and forehead did a bump-bump-bump down the front steps ’til his face smacked the dirt. As Suit Wolf lay on his stomach, Bryan did what he’d done to Mercedes Wolf—silver bullet in the elbow, ten fingers broken. Then he dragged Suit Wolf over to Mercedes Wolf and stretched their arms out so it looked like they were trying to touch hands. Suit Wolf wasn’t unconscious yet, but he was pale and sweaty, eyes unfocused and mouth twisted in pain.

Bryan was stunned, and a little sickened, at the satisfaction he got from the two wolves’ agony. He’d been in combat many times. He’d killed soldiers and terrorists, both human and shifter. But he’d never enjoyed it, never felt such a personal sense of accomplishment as he did now. Knowing what these guys would have done to Sara, and what they undoubtedly had done to other women, enraged him like no mere enemy combatants could ever do.

He slapped a cuff on each guy’s wrist and tightened the werewolf-strength rings ’til the silver bit hard into their flesh. The silver would keep them in pain and unable to shift. The busted fingers rendered their hands useless, and they wouldn’t heal before the FBI showed up. The wolves weren’t going anywhere. He could turn his attention to Sara now.

He had to get her out of here before the Feds showed up. They’d probably consider it obstruction of justice, but he didn’t give a rat’s ass—
they
hadn’t managed to get their hands on one of these fuckers.

He ran inside. “Sara, are you—?”

He’d never seen a female move so fast as she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. She buried her face in his shoulder, and he held her so tight he was afraid he might break her. She smelled of chicken fried steak, fear and the citrus perfume she always wore. Relief washed through him, leaving him breathless.

The rage and panic he’d felt when he’d realized she was in danger, the primal satisfaction he’d derived from taking out the bastards who threatened her–—he didn’t want to think about what it meant.

The only thing greater than the joy he felt right now was the fear of what she would do when he told her he’d been lying to her.

Chapter Four

Nash didn’t need to tell her to stay inside—she couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. She could barely breathe. Eyes squeezed shut, terror weighting her limbs, she’d listened to the fight outside, heard the gunshots, and wondered if a werewolf would be walking through the door at any second.

You’re safe now.
Was she? How could a man, even a Marine with a gun, fight two werewolves?

But there he was, walking through the front door, alive and alone, her big blond beautiful savior. She stared at him a moment, afraid to trust her eyes. Then the terror subsided, releasing her body, and she launched herself across the tiny living room, throwing her arms around his neck with a hoarse cry.

“Nash! Oh God, oh thank you!” Her body felt like she had the flu, all hot and cold at once, still shaking. His body felt like a rock in the middle of the ocean—hard, strong and safe. “I didn’t—couldn’t—he was here when I got here, and—and—he knew my name, and he said he was—”

He held her tightly for a few sweet seconds, then suddenly let go. When she started to stumble, Nash grasped her by the shoulders, his eyes locked on her face. “Sara, we have to leave. The FBI are on the way, and if they find you here, they’ll take you in.”

It took a couple of seconds to understand what she’d heard. “FBI? What— Why?”

“Because I called them. They’ve been after these guys for months, and they’ll want to haul you and the rest of your family in for questioning.”

“My fam— Why’d you call the FBI?”

“I’ll tell you all about it, but somewhere else. We have to go, angel. Now.”

He started pulling her towards the door. Frightened again, and now confused as well, she jerked her arm away. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me why you called the FBI! Nash, what are you doing here?”

“Sara, we can’t—” He tried to grasp her arm again, and again she pulled away. He grimaced and blew out a breath. “Look. I promise I’ll tell you everything, but we—”

“Why’d you call the FBI? How’d you know I was out here? Do you know who that werewolf is? What the hell are you doing?” The rising panic made her voice squeak.

“I called the FBI because I’ve been helping them track these guys.”

“What guys?”

He jerked his head in the direction of the front yard. “Those guys—European wolves. Wait. You don’t know who that is?”

“No! I never saw him before! Wayne made me come out here, and when I got here, Grandma was— She was— I saw…” She took another deep breath, blinking away tears. He reached for her hands, and this time she didn’t pull away.

“Is she dead?”

Sara nodded. “And he was waiting for me. He knew my name, Nash! Wayne— Wayne told him about me. Told him I— I was delicious.” She broke off with a shudder.

Suddenly he was
grinning
at her. What could make him smile at a time like this?

“Wait a minute. You didn’t come out here to meet this guy? You were really bringing food to your grandmother?”

“N-no. Not food—money. But I was bringing it to Grandma, not that guy.” She fixed her gaze on the perfect blond stubble of his chin. The first time she’d seen him, she thought he looked like the GQ version of a biker. “How did you know who that werewolf was?”

“They’re why I came to Luxor—I’ve been watching Wayne.”

“Why? Wayne doesn’t know any werewolves!”

“Yes he does. These wolves have been moving in on y’all’s operation, and I hoped by tailing him I might run into them. If Wayne set you up like this, it means he’s working with them. Sara, we really need to move.”

She felt stupid, sluggish, unable to understand what was going on. “It’s not
my
operation, it’s my grandmother’s. What about JP’s? You’re not a fishing guide?”

“No, that was a cover. I’m a private investigator.”

“So everything you’ve told me is a lie?”

He ran a hand through his long hair and grimaced. She could feel the nervousness and impatience rolling off him.

“No, Sara, not everything. I did what I did because I was undercover, and it was important. I can tell you all about that
later.
If we don’t leave, right now, you’re going to be talking to federal agents about how you ran money for your family’s drug ring.”

“I only did it because Wayne forced me to!”

“I believe you. They probably won’t.”

He squeezed her hands and tried to pull her to him. The urge to lay her head on his broad chest and start crying was almost overpowering, but her anger and confusion were just as great.

“Sara,” he said calmly, “are you going to come with me, or am I going to throw you over my shoulder and then tie you to my bike?”

“Hey, listen, asshole! I’m a hell of a lot stronger than I look!”

This didn’t faze him. “I know that. But you’re not as strong as me. I’m not leaving you here to get picked up by the Feds. You can be as pissed off at me as you want—just not here. Hell, for all I know, more of that trash—” he hooked a thumb in the direction of outside “—could show up before the Feds do.”

If he was trying to scare her, it was working. She was starting to get furious at this stranger who’d apparently been using her for months, but what was she supposed to do about it? Stick around and get arrested on federal drug charges?

She stiffened as he cupped a hand to her face and laid a kiss on her forehead.

“I’m going to go get my bike—I left it in the woods.”

“Where are we going?”

“Houston.”

“
Houston?”

He nodded.

“Why? What’s in Houston?”

He took a deep breath. “My Alpha. Wait here—I’ll be right back.”

“Your— Your— Your—Your—”

And then he was gone. Standing in front of her one minute, gone the next, as fast as the other guy—the
werewolf
—had moved, leaving her standing there sputtering, scared to death and halfway hysterical.

Sara was even tougher than he’d thought she was.

Or maybe she was catatonic.

She’d found her grandmother murdered, been pimped to werewolf sex slavers by her own uncle, learned the guy she’d been dating was a werewolf spying on her family for the FBI, then jumped on his motorcycle and left town with nothing but her purse and a Tupperware container full of cash.

He’d stopped at his dingy rented trailer to grab his duffle bag, but he wouldn’t stop at Sara’s place. The gang was probably watching it. They’d already know something had gone wrong.

The only time she spoke after they left her grandmother’s was to ask about her car. She wanted to drive it to Houston, but he wouldn’t hear of it. If Wayne Hedges was still alive, he’d be doing all he could to track her down and hand her back to his new buddies.

For a minute there, he thought he might really have to tie her to his bike. But after he swore he’d send for the piece of crap as soon as they got to Houston, she gave in.

And after that, she didn’t say another word.

A helicopter was approaching from the west as they finally pulled onto Highway 59. The Feds would want to know why he didn’t stick around to talk to them. He’d let Nick handle it.

They made Lufkin a little before eight. They could’ve made Houston by midnight, but he thought the twenty-two-year-old girl from an Apocalyptic town, who thought Marshall, Texas was the Big City needed time to rest. Limiting her to two huge shocks per day was only right.

Besides, he was alarmed at her silence.

He stopped at a Walmart so they could pick up a few things for her. She followed him docilely through the huge, fluorescent store as he coaxed her to show him what she needed. Didn’t she want shampoo? She looked at him for a minute, then pulled shampoo and conditioner from the shelf.
Good, good. What about stuff for your face… Okay. Now how about clothes? You need a T-shirt and jeans, and some underwear…
He led her by the hand to the women’s section, thinking he’d have to pick them out for her, but she did it herself. She still didn’t say anything.

The silence drove him crazy, so he started talking. He told her his real name, how Nick had sent him to Luxor, and how he’d planned on telling her everything tonight. He explained that Nick could help her deal with the Feds, who had to know about her involvement in her family’s business by now, if they hadn’t already.

They checked into a motel. He got the long Tupperware out of his saddlebag and she counted it—out loud, so maybe she was only partly catatonic.

It was a little over a hundred and sixty grand. He put it in the room safe with the key the desk clerk had given him, and they went in search of food.

The first decent-looking restaurant they saw bore an unfortunate resemblance to Café Caddo, but he wasn’t in the mood to ride around all night and hey, at least it didn’t serve chicken fried steak.

She didn’t laugh.

Once they were seated, he couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Angel, please say something.”

She took a long swig of her beer before answering.

“Well, first of all, you can stop calling me
angel
now that I know you were just using me.”

So. She wasn’t catatonic—she was royally pissed off.

He started to say something, but she didn't stop to let him. “And then tomorrow morning you can turn around and take me to Marshall. I'll look after myself from there.”

Christ, she was tough. He loved tough females, though he’d never dated one of Sara’s kind before. When he’d told her she kept surprising him, he’d meant it.

Relieved, amused, and a little bit annoyed, he took a long pull on his own beer before answering. “Okay, listen. I'm not taking you to Marshall. I didn't
save your life—”
he pronounced the words very slowly, leaning across the table and staring at her until she was forced to drop her gaze “—just to put you right back where those bastards can find you.”