Conner's Wolf (8 page)

He left, the woman trailing him like a malevolent spirit, their exit punctuated by the sound of a deadbolt sliding home. A sob escaped Khemirra as Conner struggled to his knees and returned to his earlier position, his upper torso pressed to the bars of the cage. “If you say you’re sorry for involving me in this,
I’m
going to turn into a wolf and bite you.”

There was a rough growl in his voice, either intended or the aftereffect of pain. She tangled her fingers in his hair, unable to suppress a second, softer sob as their lips met and clung in a desperate joining of soul and purpose, in an offering of comfort and a recognition of the feelings between them.

She wanted him in the same way the wolf did, for a lifetime. But when the kiss ended, he murmured against her lips, “If you say the word werewolf after we get out of here, or bring up the supernatural in any way, shape or form, I can promise you right now you’ll find yourself bare-assed and getting spanked.”

She froze, emotions plummeting though she clung to hope. If they got out of here, then there’d be time to change his mind, she had to believe that. She could build on what they had. She could provoke him into spanking her, turning sexual play into a slow acceptance of the supernatural.

She pulled her arms back into the cage, her hands going to her waistband and freeing the top button of her shorts. His eyebrows lifted in silent question but he didn’t speak, aware as she was there could be microphones and cameras.

Using his body as a shield, she extracted the hidden wires. A smile kicked up at the corners of his mouth. “Damn, I love you,” he whispered.

The declaration exploded in her chest, delivering sharp-edged bliss. She moved away from him, going to the cage door. A simple lock was threaded through holes bored into both door and cage frames.

She chose the right combination of wires and slid them into the lock mechanism. A soft click, barely heard over the pounding beat of her heart, signaled victory, and brought with it fierce gratitude for the teacher who’d demanded nothing short of speedy perfection.

She removed the lock, her breath coming fast, her pulse an internal clock frantically ticking off the seconds. The latches gave and she grasped the bars, sliding the door to the left, creating just enough of an opening to escape through.

Conner jerked his head in the direction of the desk and she crossed to it, quietly opening a top drawer. Smiling at finding a pair of scissors next to a box cutter.

She grabbed both and rushed back to Conner, exposing the blade of the box knife as she crouched behind him. The cuffs were tight and slick with blood. She sawed carefully, straining to hear approaching footsteps.

If Scholes came alone, they could overpower him without the wolf’s help. If the woman was with him…

The ties severed and Conner gave a soft grunt as he brought his arms forward. She cut the ropes binding his ankles, his scent holding adrenaline and determination, fear forced into the smell of courage.

They rose to their feet, the sound of someone approaching in a slow, stealthy manner warning them time had run out. Khemirra’s mouth went dry. She offered Conner his choice of the two weapons, desperately wishing she could give him both since she wouldn’t need either if it came down to a fight for survival.

Conner selected the box knife, motioning for Khemirra to take up a position behind him. He readied himself mentally and physically as the footsteps came to a stop on the opposite side of the door.

The pause following was tense. The sliding of the deadbolt hesitant, cautious.

He waited until the door opened a crack then rammed into it, hearing a terrified squeal an instant before he saw the teenage boy.

Aborting his attack, Conner grabbed the boy’s arm, demanded, “Who are you?”

“Matt. Matthew Herrington. I live here with my parents. They manage Wolf Haven.”

“This is Wolf Haven?” Khemirra asked. But didn’t wait for him to answer before saying, “We’re about thirty minutes from where we left my Jeep, Conner.”

Fierce hope surged through him. They would get out of this alive. “Where’s Scholes?”

The teen’s eyes widened. “Armand Scholes? He’s here? His trust supports Wolf Haven. My parents got a call this morning, saying we had to leave for a couple of days. They weren’t given a reason, only told that the wolves would be taken care of and it was very important to go. They thought they’d get fired if they said no. I snuck back because I wanted to see what was going on.”

“Did you see anyone outside?”

“No, but I saw the door to the kennel building close. That’s where I was heading when I looked in here and saw a deadbolt on the door to the room the vet uses.” The boy cast a wild-eyed look over his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Give me your phone.”

Matt gulped. “I can’t. My dad’s got it. I’m on suspension. The only one in here is on the desk.”

Fuck! It wasn’t there now.

Conner took a second to look around. They were in a narrow foyer, indefensible against two people with guns and who could keep the front door covered until reinforcements arrived. The boy would be a casualty, he had no doubt about that after witnessing Scholes’ coldblooded killing of his hired muscle.

“Where’s the nearest phone?” Going back into the habitat room and risking getting trapped in there was a non-option now that Matt was involved.

“In the kennel building. There are more in the house.”

“Is the house locked?”

“I don’t know. I’ve got my key.”

Matt pulled a key ring out of his pocket and offered it to Conner, his hand trembling. Conner accepted it before moving to the front door and looking out through the window set within it.

The house was to the left, maybe fifty yards away. The van they’d been transported in was also to the left, roughly twenty feet from the building door and affording some cover, though maybe they’d get lucky and find keys inside it.

“Kennel building is to the right?” he guessed. It wasn’t visible.

“Yes.”

Khemirra joined him at the door. “We’re making a run for the house?”

“It’s our best option. There’s a chance Scholes will bolt if he thinks the police are descending on Wolf Haven.”

“Let me go first.”

It went against his training, his moral code, his need to protect her. Denial surged up his throat but he didn’t say no. Of the three of them, she was the only one Scholes cared about keeping alive.

“Van first. We check for keys in the ignition and get a fix on the kennel building.”

“What about me?” the boy asked, his voice high.

“With us.” Conner met Khemirra’s eyes. “Ready?”

She nodded and he opened the door, all of them straining to hear the sound of voices or footsteps. Khemirra peeked outside. “Clear,” she said, and ran.

Conner touched Matt’s back. “Go!”

Matt ran with Conner right behind him. They reached the van but a glance through the passenger-side window killed the hope of finding keys in the ignition.

Conner looked in the direction of the kennel building. Still clear.

“Go!” he said again, but fifteen feet beyond the shelter of the van, Scholes emerged and started firing.

Matt screamed and went down, blood saturating his t-shirt.

Conner’s training took over. He scooped the boy up and retreated to the van.

Chapter Seven

Khemirra shifted. There was no thinking, no deciding. The danger and the desperation of the situation drove her actions.

She raced toward Scholes. Very nearly veered when she saw the woman rushing toward the van, except the wolf’s urge to go to the aid of its mate was overpowered by the knowledge that getting to Scholes would do more good.

“Protect me! Protect me!” he screamed when the frantic pulling of the trigger yielded only silence.

The wolf leapt the remaining distance, taking him to the ground.
Coward!
She could smell the stink of his fear, along with that of black magic and gunpowder on his hands as he gripped the fur of her neck, fighting to keep sharp canine teeth from reaching his throat.

He was no match for her fury or strength. Low growls sounded his death knell as powerful jaws snapped, drawing closer to fragile skin and wild pulse.

Wolf and woman both wanted Scholes dead. But the woman faltered as his arms lost strength and the kill neared.

The battle shifted internally then, guilt over the dead mage fighting with the memory of Scholes touching the cattle prod to Conner. Memories of being caged set against how Conner would react at seeing the wolf’s savagery when he hadn’t yet accepted her existence.

She snarled in fury and frustration, acquiescing to the woman’s decision, clamping down on the medal rather than flesh and muscle and roaring blood. It burned her lips, tasted of brimstone and hot ash. She wanted to spit it out but the woman knew it was far too dangerous to leave where it might be touched by human hands.

She ripped it from Scholes’ neck and swallowed it, turning her head just in time to see the being bound to it vanish.

Conner closed the sliding door, silently praying he wasn’t turning the van into a coffin for the boy. Matt’s blood coated his arm and soaked into his shirt, an unnecessary reminder that survival depended on incapacitating Scholes and the woman.

In the profound silence coming after the rapid burst of gunfire, Conner steeled himself against finding Khemirra down. He clung desperately to the hope she’d made it to the house, the sight of the scissors on the ground close to where Matt had been hit suggesting she had kept going rather than attempt an attack on Scholes.

He moved to the back of the van and cautiously looked around it, the ice of a primal fear pouring into his bloodstream along with denial at the sight of the wolf holding Scholes to the ground with the threat of glistening canines.

As if sensing his attention on her, she lifted her head and looked over her shoulder. A steel band tightened around his chest. There was no mistaking the intelligence in her eyes, no pretending he hadn’t met them the night before.

He
wanted
to deny again and couldn’t, not when Khemirra had returned moments after the wolf left. Not when Khemirra had been determined to get to the mountains and go for a long moonlit run.

He
knew
, but the sound of Matt’s low moan allowed him to ignore that knowledge, to shut its existence and everything that came with it behind a barrier of purpose.

He sprinted to the house, using a phone in the kitchen to summon police and paramedics before searching for weapons. He found his off-duty piece in the master bedroom and checked the load before looking for the woman.

She wasn’t in the house, making him fairly certain she’d retreated to the kennel building or fled into the woods. He left, chest going tight once again at seeing the side door to the van open with Khemirra standing next to it, Scholes on the ground at her feet, on his stomach, his wrists bound behind him.

She looked up as he approached, eyes meeting, searching for something in his. And he looked away, not ready to deal head-on with—

Fuck.
He didn’t want to trust the evidence he’d been presented with.

Matt’s presence gave him an excuse to avoid a discussion about the wolf. The sound of approaching sirens promised an extension of that delay. And the role of cop was like a second skin, an easy place to retreat into.

“Did you see where the woman went?” he asked while concentrating on checking the field bandaging he’d made of Matt’s t-shirt.

“She’s not here. She never was. My guess is Scholes killed her after she tranquilized you. He probably dumped the body and I’m betting the police will never find it.”

Conner’s head snapped around but Khemirra had her back to him. Fury scorched through him, complex in its texture. Not just that she was denying the presence of the very woman who’d tortured her with a cattle prod, but at the implicit message the denial contained, that the woman would
never
be found and brought to justice because she was something other than completely human, something supernatural.

He didn’t say anything more though he took Khemirra at her word. Swallowing down anger and frustration, and a whole shitload of other emotions he didn’t want to identify, he mentally rearranged the statements he would give to the police when they arrived. Manpower was too precious to waste. There was no point in initiating a search or taking up an artist’s time to produce a sketch of the woman’s face.

Scholes wouldn’t talk. If he did, he’d only come across crazier than he was already going to sound.

Conner focused on Matt as though the injured teen was a lifeline anchoring him to sanity. His hand settled on the boy’s shoulder. “Hang in there. You’re doing great.”

Khemirra kept her back to Conner. She told herself he just needed time.

Once Matt was in the care of the EMTs and Scholes was in police custody, then Conner would realize the wolf had
saved
them, and he’d accept who she was,
what
she was. He
had
called her other self beautiful.

She told herself that, but the longer the silence stretched between them, the more it felt like a lie.

A slow pain began spreading through her chest, an ache that had her jaws clenching and her eyes burning.
You knew there was a possibly this would just be a fling. There were never any guarantees you’d be able to soften his attitude or change his point of view about things supernatural.

A police car came into view, then a second, followed by an ambulance. It was almost over now.

She forced herself to concentrate on the positive. She had her life back.

The kidnapping and murder charges would keep Armand Scholes locked up. And now that she knew how he’d been able to track her, and that he no longer could, it would be safe to contact the pack. The council of alphas could decide if anything further needed to be done about Scholes.

And the medallion… A shudder went through her at the remembered taste of it.

She’d ask the alpha, but she had a bad feeling her options were limited to either retaining possession of it and preventing an accidental summoning, or finding a witch who could free the entity bound to it. Goose bumps pebbled her skin contemplating either choice.

The police cars and ambulance drew closer, lights flashing and sirens screaming. Behind her, Conner said, “They’ll separate us to take statements. I’m going to tell them the truth, everything that can be backed up by
facts
.”

She nodded to let him know she’d heard him then lifted her hands to show she was unarmed when the patrol cars screeched to a stop, the officers emerging with their hands on their guns.

The tension dissipated with Conner’s identifying himself and telling the officers that Scholes had been the only threat. Emergency personnel rushed to the van then, and as Conner had predicted, within minutes of Scholes being put in the back of a police car, she was led to a patrol car by a female officer and her male partner while Conner accompanied another pair of policemen into the building where they’d been held prisoner.

Lights came on in the compound, triggered by growing dusk. In deference to her desire not to be caged in the car, the officers allowed her to remain outside their vehicle as she told them what she could, not defining or expanding on her relationship with Conner other than to say she’d helped him on a case in Florida and he’d gone out of his way to try to help her.

They asked for clarification a couple of times, grimaced and shook their heads each time she said the word werewolf, but their scents told her they didn’t doubt the truth of what she said. And whether by intention or accident, they revealed they’d gotten a radio call confirming two bodies had been found outside Conner’s cabin.

Relief grabbed hold of her as it hadn’t earlier, bringing fine tremors noticeable enough that the male officer told her they were finished, while the female said she’d go see if Conner was done giving his statement.

As the officer headed toward the building, Conner emerged from it. He didn’t glance in her direction.

Khemirra’s throat went tight with acceptance of a truth she didn’t want. Earlier she’d been willing to lie to herself about what his refusal to look at her meant, but now she read it for the rejection it was, the rejection it would
always
be.

She’d ripped aside a veil and showed him a world he didn’t want to believe in, hell, one he’d said in a hundred different ways he wanted no part of. She should probably consider herself lucky he didn’t hate her for it. At least his scent had been free of that emotion earlier.

“You think I can get a lift from you guys?” she asked the male officer, thinking maybe they’d be able to take her to her Jeep, or be willing to help her convince a cab driver that she was good for the fare.

“Let me clear it.” He pushed away from the car and headed after his partner.

“What a freaking nutcase,” Tyson, the cop to Conner’s left, said. “I hope he gets jail time instead of time on the psych ward.”

“You and me both.”

Tyson laughed. “Not that I’d mind being in a breeding program with the reporter. She’s a real looker.”

“Yeah, she is.”

Christ. He just wanted to get this wrapped up so he could deal with what else she was.

His head felt like it was never going to be screwed on right again. But his cock was rock hard and the only screwing it cared about was finding its way back into her.

Fuck! How could he want that so desperately? Knowing she came with a whole shitload of baggage labeled supernatural.

The cop who’d been interviewing her got within speaking distance. “You need us to hang, Tyson?”

“No. Saunders and I are going to stick. A unit is coming out to process the scene since this kidnapping is linked to the homicides at Stern’s cabin. You and Lake can head out.”

“Okay.”

Lake caught up to his partner then. He gave Conner a quick glance before speaking to Tyson. “The reporter asked for a lift. We’ll take her with us unless you’ve got an objection.”

Conner looked at her then, daring the distraction he hadn’t allowed himself when he stepped out of the building. Across the distance their eyes met and he saw she intended to make this easy for him. There were no tears in them, no accusation. No regret or pleading. There was nothing but the same courageous resolve he’d seen before, the fierce determination to survive.

Realization trapped his breath in his chest and tensed his muscles. A fight-or-flight response his heart understood.

If he let her go now, all the times he’d told her he wanted nothing to do with the supernatural, all his negativity toward it would create a wall that could never fully be torn down. He’d lose her. And he’d spend the rest of his life regretting it.

His feet were moving while his mind scrambled to get ahead of them, to have the right words by the time he reached her. He understood then how Trace could handle Aislinn being psychic, because loving the woman meant accepting the existence of things that couldn’t be sealed in an evidence bag or paraded out in front of a jury, or even put down in a police report without risking a forced leave of absence or a visit with the department shrink. It meant coping, the same way anyone who loved a cop had to cope with the baggage that came with the job.

Determination and possessiveness grew with each step. She was his and he wasn’t going to let her go.

He gripped Khemirra’s upper arms and jerked her against him when he reached her. “You’re not running away from me, baby.”

Fire returned to her eyes. “Don’t accuse me of that, Conner. I’ve got sharp teeth and might just bite your ass off.”

A laugh erupted, coming from deep within and surprising him as much as it did her. Jesus he loved her mouth. He loved everything about her, inside and out.