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Authors: Loribelle Hunt

BOOK: Bad Moon Rising
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32

Loribelle Hunt

Chicken salad sounded good and she started dragging out ingredients.

She was reaching for the can opener for the chicken, when a sound from outside caught her attention. She cocked her head to the side. What was that?

She cautiously edged her way up the hall, straining to hear it again.

Scratching? Odd. It was coming from the front door. Feeling a tendril of apprehension, she went to look out the window rather than open the door, and jumped back three feet when she did. Heart hammering, she crept back to for a second look. Yep, there was definitely a wolf out there.

She ran back to the kitchen for the phone, but it was dead when she picked it up. She snorted with exasperation. Reliable phone service was not a high priority on the local company’s list. It was out again. She reached for her purse and her cell phone, but came up empty. Maybe she’d remembered to plug it in last night. But she didn’t find it in the bathroom or the living room in her usual ‘charge the phone’ spots. Damn.

She had a vague memory of dropping it in the side pocket of her car’s door yesterday.

She tiptoed back to the window and snuck a look out. No wolf. She eyed her car and decided not to risk it. She hoped Trey would show up soon.

Okay, so I’m a wuss. I can live with that
.

She was not going to be one of those stupid ‘please kill me now’

horror movie characters. No heroics here, thank you. Trey would be back soon. And in the meantime, maybe she’d just pack a bag for a couple of nights.

She was in the master bedroom stuffing her make‐up bag when she heard the pop and shatter. Tossing the zipped bag on the bed, she slowly walked down the hall and paused at the living room entrance. Glass was everywhere—the popping sound had undoubtedly been a gun. Anger surged through her.

The hell with this.

Stalking back to her room, she dug into the back of her closet and pulled out her dad’s old shotgun. Good ol’ Dad even left her rounds. She shoved one into the chamber as she jogged for the back door. She’d go to 33

Bad Moon Rising: Lunar Mates Book 2

her neighbor’s and call the police.

She stuck her head out and looked around before jumping off the back stoop and running next‐door, where her neighbor was cautiously peering out the door.

“Someone shot my house,” she said, stepping into the neighbor’s house.

The police told her to wait there, and she stayed until the sirens stopped out front. It wasn’t until she was arguing with an older officer about the wolf that she thought about calling Trey.

* * * * *

He was in his office in town before dawn. After the Hunter’s use of Jackson as a messenger service, he’d called in and provided the address.

There might be more news, and he couldn’t afford delay.

With nothing new that might help with the outlaw hunt, he settled behind his desk and dived into backed up paperwork. His routine had been disrupted since he’d claimed Tara. Instead of finding that fact bothersome, he welcomed the change. She brought light back into the life that had been dim for so long.

By the time he typed his final report and paid the bills that had arrived in the last week, the sun was edging its way up the sky. His instinct was to go to Tara, but he had one more thing to check before he could indulge his body’s need for her. Grabbing his keys, he strode out to his SUV and made the short drive to his house.

The cleaning crew had been busy. Years of neglect had been scrubbed from the walls and floors, and the kitchen was somewhat presentable. More importantly, his furniture had arrived. He checked the downstairs library first, assuring that his desk was delivered and noted the boxes of books piled against one wall. Then he jogged up the stairs to the bedroom he’d decided to use.

His bed had arrived. It was the only thing in the room and was waiting in the center, left for him to place. He walked around it, studying it with a critical eye. It was old brass, his parents’ bed, and his 34

Loribelle Hunt

grandparents’ before that. He’d slept uncomfortably in the king‐sized four‐poster for years. What would Tara think of it? He had a sudden vision of her stretched out like a feast for him on it. Oh yeah, he was right to have ship the bed down. It would feel like his now.

The room was on the front of the house and had a big bay window facing the front yard. He pushed the bed to the opposite wall so the light of the sun and moon would stream across its occupants. Imagining Tara naked and bathed in moonlight, he smiled. Perfect.

The mental picture was interrupted by his cell voice message beep.

Irritated, he pulled it out and listened with growing interest as he went to his SUV.

He followed the real estate agent’s directions to a bungalow a few miles from his house. It was tucked in a tiny cove on the lake and looked abandoned. The rent was two months late and the leaseholder, Bradley Jones, had been unaccounted for and evicted, but showed up in the rental office looking to catch up and move back in. Unfortunately, with the spurt of recent area purchases, the owners had decided to sell. The agent reported that Jones did not take the news well, but was convinced to take another house. Adrenalin surged through him—this was his guy. The story was too odd, too off—Jones went out of town for a couple months and forgot about his rent? Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time someone called him paranoid.

He parked and walked around the house. It was small, probably only one bedroom, and needed upkeep. The smell hit him on the back porch and excitement coursed through him. The scent was faded, but unmistakably that of the wolf who’d fought with Darius last month. Luck was with him and he didn’t have to pick the lock on the door. The scent was much stronger inside. He’d found the outlaw.

Either the kitchen had been emptied, or Jones never ate at home.

He found a few dishes in the cabinet and a broken coffee maker in the pantry. Moving into the next room, a combination living/dining room, wasn’t anymore enlightening. An old sagging sofa sat in the center in front an older model 20” television. There were no books, no magazines, no unpaid bills, no old newspapers, only a thick layer of dust. Hoping to 35

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hit pay dirt, he bypassed the bathroom and headed for the house’s last room, the bedroom.

The small space was dominated by an uncovered bed, which was flanked by a nightstand and a bureau. The open closet was empty. He opened the dresser and found it bare.

The nightstand was next. The top drawer was as stripped as the dresser, and he held his breath when he pulled on the bottom knob. A piece of paper rested in it. Lifting it out, he saw a list of names scrawled on it divided by a line. He scanned it quickly, a chill running down his spine when he reached the end.

The first three names were well known to the Hunters, all men high‐placed in the Society. The next group was every adult were in his pack, followed by every mate. Meg and Tara brought up the end, circled in red.

Alarm coursed through him as he punched out Darius’s number on his cell, racing for his car, and hurried to fill him in. Next he tried Tara.

The line was busy and her cell went to voice mail. He left a clipped message telling her to call him as soon as possible and let no one in.

His world crashed when he reached her house after what seemed to be the longest drive of his life, to see the street full of squad cars.

Pushing his way through the door, he found her on the couch.

“Oh, thank God,” she said, when he pulled her into his arms. “The weirdest thing happened. I heard scratching on the door and when I looked out the window, there was a wolf there, I swear. I know wolves. I used to do these summer retreat things with Summer. I know it was a wolf!” She shot a dirty look at the cops milling around. “They don’t believe me, but I know what I saw. Then, like ten minutes later, someone freaking shot my front window!”

He wasn’t sure who was shaking more, him or her. His wolf snarled with rage, wanting to howl and rend. He’d failed to protect her. It would be the last time, he vowed. Like it or not, she was coming home, and he would not let her out of his sight again.

One of the officers approached, a man Trey knew from some of his previous investigations.

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Loribelle Hunt

“Williams.” He nodded in greeting. “Miss, do you have any idea who would do this?”

He watched her struggle with the question and shake her head.

Guiding her to the sofa, he pulled her down and kept his arm around her.

The adrenalin rush had really knocked her for a loop. Still shaking, goose bumps popped up on her flesh and her breath was shallow.

Eyes narrowed, he turned back to the officer. “Can’t you do this later, Browning?”

“No,” she whispered. “Let’s get it over with. I’ve already been through it a half dozen times.”

“Okay. One more time, baby.” His glare made it clear to Browning once more was all he was getting.

She let out a deep breath that could have been a sigh. “About noon, I decided to get something to eat. I heard something scratching at the door and went to check.” She glared at Browning. “I saw a wolf. I know y’all don’t believe me, but I know what I saw. Anyway, it was weird. Really weird. So I went to call y’all, but the phone was dead. Then I went looking for my cell phone, but remembered I’d left it in the car.”

She took a deep breath and looked back and forth between the two of them. He squeezed her hand in reassurance, and she gave him a weak smile that had his heart flip‐flopping.

“I decided I’d take Trey up on his offer to stay the weekend at his place.”

He raised an eyebrow. He’d certainly been thinking it, but hadn’t gone so far as to ask for fear she’d bolt.

“When I was packing, I heard the shot and window break. It pissed me off. I got Dad’s shotgun out of my closet, loaded it, and went out the back door to my neighbor’s to call the police. And that’s it.”

His wolf was howling for release again, but this time it wanted to turn her over his knee. She went outside? With a shotgun?

“Do you at least know how to fire this shotgun?” he clipped out.

She looked at him like he’d grown horns. “Of course.”

“Don’t ever do that again. Scratch that. I don’t have to worry about it because I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

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Obviously not wanting to get in the middle of a lover’s spat, the officer prepared to leave. “Um, if we need anything else from you Miss Burke, we’ll be in touch. Where can I reach you?”

Trey reached for his wallet and handed him a business card. “She’ll be with me.”

Tara stood and started down the hall. “I think I’ll just stay with Meg,” she said loftily.

He followed her into her room and closed the door with a soft, careful click. She turned to him, ready to fight about his autocratic attitude, and he gave the wolf free reign, stalking her across the room.

With her back pressed against a wall, she looked at him with fear-widened eyes, which only served to make him angrier. He’d never hurt her. She had to have figured that out by now.

“You will not be alone,” he said tightly. Taking a deep breath to get control his voice, he continued. “And I don’t trust anyone else to watch out for you. Pack. Quickly. Or we can go now. I’d rather you not have anything to change into anyway. Doesn’t matter to me.”

She gasped, hurt and outrage in her eyes. “Don’t I mean more to you than that? More than sex?”

He gently cupped her face in his palms and whispered,

“Everything. And I will do whatever I must to keep you safe, up to and including locking you naked in my house.”

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Loribelle Hunt

Chapter Five

Bradley Jones watched with mounting frustration as police swarmed over Tara Burke’s house and Williams drove her away. By the time he got to his car several blocks over they’d be long gone. Running for it anyway, he growled when a group of gawkers wouldn’t part to let him through. That got their attention, he noted with satisfaction as a path cleared.

Once in his car, he circled as close as possible to the scene, but there was no sign of the blue SUV. He pounded the steering wheel and turned towards Williams’ apartment.

The complex was a waste of time. Several members of the new werewolf pack had lived there, but after the attack in the neighboring woods they’d moved. He’d been back two days, and so far had only been able to locate Darius Stewart.

Williams was the one the Society wanted, though. Good thing he’d noticed Trey’s interest in Tara Burke. Something weird was going on there. Not that werewolves mating was out of the ordinary, but two female cousins? And not just any ordinary women either, but the old witch Tinnie Duveau’s granddaughters. The other cousin was around, too.

Summer. He’d seen her in town yesterday.

He drove back to his new rental house and considered checking in with the Society. Curling his lip in derision, he nixed that idea and instead brought a steak out of the refrigerator. He needed to plan his next move.

The Society kept an extensive file on Williams, and he sat to study 39

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it again. Williams was good. Very good. But he was better. They knew him as Bradley Jones here, but he’d had another life once. He could hunt with the best of them.

Williams would take Tara and go to ground. It would chafe, but he’d probably bring in pack members to help guard her, too. But he couldn’t hide forever. The question was would he wait for Jones to find him? Or go look for Jones? He wasn’t sure what he’d do if their situations were reversed. The instinct to protect a mate was most dominant of all.

Though staying with her would be the choice of most weres, Trey Williams was a retired Hunter. His impulse would be to go on the offensive. By all accounts, he was a cold and calculating Hunter. Jones smiled. A worthy opponent at last. For now, he’d wait.

* * * * *

She finished packing and walked silently to the car, unsure of how to take what had just happened. Between the wolf, the shooting, and the possessive ‘prefer you naked’ speech, she was on adrenalin overload. It was way too much weirdness at one time.

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