Lonely Alpha (4 page)

The animal was still there, curled in the
same pose as last time she’d looked. Not that she’d really expected
it to be gone – she would have heard its heavy paws and long claws
on the bare floorboards – but a tiny, optimistic part of her had
hoped. Now she stared longingly past the creature, her eyes
settling on the phone resting on a side table against the far wall.
Maybe whatever had stopped it from working the night before had
been a temporary problem, like a downed power line. She had to
try.

Turning off the safety and holding her gun at
the ready as she’d seen many a TV cop do, she crept out of the
bedroom and began the tedious journey toward the phone. A light
sheen of sweat dampened her forehead as she kept her eyes and her
gun trained on the animal, watching for the smallest sign of
movement. When one of its ears twitched, her heart leapt into her
throat and a tremor raced through her arms, causing the barrel of
the gun to shake. After what seemed an eternity, she finally
reached the phone. Breathing the world’s quietest sigh of relief,
she lifted it from the receiver and held it to her ear, fingers
poised to punch three very specific numbers.

But there was no dial tone. As panic
threatened to seize her, she dialed 9-1-1 anyway. Nothing happened.
Just silence. She stifled a moan of disappointment as she hung up
the phone and cast a glance over her shoulder at the front door.
She’d leave through it, escaping to the outdoors. Surely she’d be
better off walking to her car – and, if the road was still blocked
– to town, than waiting around here. As she took her first step
toward the exit, a pungent odor assaulted her nostrils.

It was rich, coppery and distinct: the smell
of blood. Slowly, her eyes traveled back to the sleeping canine,
and from this angle, the crimson puddle seeping out from under the
edge of its furry body was clearly visible. Her stomach lurched,
more out of surprise than disgust. The location of the wound was
hidden, but wherever it was, it had bled profusely. As she studied
the floor, she saw the crimson trail that was smeared across the
naked floorboards. She’d been so focused on the animal that she’d
missed the evidence of its injury. Backing quickly toward the door,
she escaped before the thing woke up and she found herself face to
face with an angry, bloody beast.

Outside, she breathed deeply, clearing the
scent of blood from her lungs. She held her gun close as she peered
around, searching the tree line for any sign of a man – either Jack
or the unknown gunman who’d been prowling the woods the night
before. There was no one. At least, not that she could see. Where
was Jack? Worry laced through her fear. He was gone and his huge,
scary wolf-dog was badly wounded… Had something happened to Jack,
too?

Maybe his pet had been injured while coming
to his aid. Maybe the gunman had come to the cabin last night and
there had been a confrontation… Violent possibility after violent
possibility raced through her mind. Had she really been sleeping so
soundly that she wouldn’t have heard a struggle? She bit the inside
of her lip. Maybe. Her dreams had been deep and intense, though she
couldn’t exactly remember what they’d been about.

She had no choice but to begin the long trek
down the mountain, toward town. Along the way, she’d keep an eye
out for Jack. Whether or not she found him, she’d have to summon
the police and an ambulance as soon as she reached civilization. He
could be lying out in the woods somewhere, curled up and bleeding
like his pet. Or even dead. She tasted salt and copper as she
buried an eyetooth in her soft inner lip. When she thought of Jack
lying still in a pool of his own blood, the taste became
nauseating.

“Mandy.” A rough voice called out to her just
as she turned her back on the cabin, taking her first step toward
town.

She whirled, almost dropping her gun. She
knew that voice. “Jack!”

He stood on the porch, leaning against a
rough-hewn wooden beam with his hands shoved into the pockets of
his worn jeans. He looked awfully casual for someone who’d just
appeared out of thin air. “Where have you been?” Mandy exclaimed,
crossing the distance between them in long strides. The fact that
he’d left her alone with that monster of a canine still rankled,
but she was happier to see him than she would have expected.
Whatever else he was guilty of, at least he wasn’t dead.

“I’ve been here,” he grunted.

Mandy scowled at him. “Like hell you have.
When I woke up, it was just me and that colossal dog of yours!”

He glared right back. “He’s not a dog,
he’s—”

“I don’t care what kind of wild half-breed he
is,” Mandy interrupted. “He could’ve mauled me while you were gone,
and what about the person in the woods with the gun?”

“He’s still out there, so come inside and
quit talkin’ so loud.”

She huffed in irritation. “Does that truck of
yours work?” She eyed the rusty contraption apprehensively.
“Because if it does, I want you to give me a ride into town, if the
road has been cleared. Your phone still isn’t working, and if
there’s a criminal on the loose, we need to—”

She stopped mid-sentence when he stepped
forward and his open flannel shirt flapped at his sides. A bright
spot of red had blossomed on the grey tartan fabric, and his skin
was smeared with blood. “What happened to you?” she asked, the
anger leaving her voice as she remembered the violent scenarios
she’d been imagining just minutes ago.

He was only slightly unsteady on his feet as
he moved toward the door, frowning. “Come inside and I’ll tell
you.”

She followed him, her gaze glued to the
little stream of blood that had begun to trickle down his side,
staining the hip of his jeans. “Are you badly hurt?”

When he said nothing, she snatched a handful
of the flannel, pulling it aside to see for herself. “This looks
bad. Were you
shot
?” Her voice climbed an octave or two on
the last word, but she couldn’t help it. There was a small hole
near the edge of his side, just below his ribs. A bullet-sized
hole.

Chapter 3

“Keep your voice down.”

“You need to sit.” Mandy pulled out a chair
from the small table in the middle of the kitchen area.

Jack took the seat with a sigh. “All right,
I’m sitting. Now will you keep it down?”

“Fine.” She was careful to keep her voice
low. “Now tell me what happened to you.”

“Got shot,” he grunted, leaning against the
hard-backed chair as if it were a plush recliner.

Beneath the worn tabletop, Mandy gripped
fistfuls of her khaki shorts, wringing the material as she braced
herself for more bad news. “Was it the person we heard in the woods
with a gun last night?”

He nodded. “That very same bastard.”

“How…” Now that he’d confirmed her darkest
theory, there were too many questions whirling in her mind to ask
at once. “How the hell did that happen, and why did you leave me
here with…” She glanced toward the pile of blankets. They were
empty, save for a goliath-sized indent and several large blood
stains. “Where’d your dog go?”

“Wolf, not dog. And he’s around.”

Wolf. Well, that explained the size. She
glanced around uneasily, expecting the animal to appear, dripping
blood. “He’s hurt too.”

Jack nodded. “Shot.”

“Okay. Tell me how you both got shot so we
can get you to town for some medical care. And maybe a vet for the
wolf,” she added, trying not to shudder as she imagined
transporting the hulking creature in the bed of Jack’s truck.
Hopefully the vehicle worked – no way would that thing fit inside
her car. Not that it would even matter if the road was still
blocked. She took a deep breath and tried not to think too much
about that possibility – the thought of being stranded on the
mountain with a gunshot victim and no medical help was almost
enough to send her into a panic.

“I was trackin’ that bastard with the gun,”
Jack said, squeezing his eyes shut.

He had to be in a world of pain. Sympathy
warred with Mandy’s irritation as she listened to him tell his
story.

“He wasn’t quite as stupid as I’d figured.
Ended up taking a few shots at me and hit me once.” He glanced down
at his side. “Obviously.”

“That’s it?” Mandy crossed her arms, leaning
back against the uncomfortable chair. “You were tracking him and
you got shot – that’s all you’re going to tell me? Why were you
tracking him in the first place?”

A hard gleam of exasperation flashed in
Jack’s eyes as he opened them. “Well I’m not gonna let him trample
all over my territory blastin’ things to kingdom come with that
damn gun.”

“Your territory? Exactly how much of this
mountain do you own?” His cabin was modest – if he owned more than
the small yard around it, it would be a surprise.

Jack scowled. “This lot and about ten acres
of forest land, but that’s irrelevant. This is my mountain.” By the
time he finished, he was practically growling.

“All right, all right.” Mandy pushed back her
chair and rose. Clearly, he’d grown a little too attached to the
surrounding wilderness. Under normal circumstances, she might have
argued the point, but he was hurt. She needed to get him to town.
“You’re injured, Jack. You need medical attention right away.”

He crossed his arms, wincing slightly as he
laid them across his bare chest. “Absolutely not.”

Mandy resisted the urge to stomp a foot down
on the floorboards. Of all the stubborn men she’d ever met, Jack
was surely the only one who’d even dream of trying to refuse
medical treatment after being shot. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve
been shot. You should be in an emergency room right now.”

“Can’t,” he grunted, meeting her gaze with a
defiant stare.

“Why not?” Nervousness tinged Mandy’s
irritation. Maybe his old pick-up truck didn’t work. In that case
she’d have to trek down the mountain and into town on her own to
find help.

“I don’t do hospitals.”

She repressed an exasperated sigh – after
all, blood loss had probably made him even more senseless than
usual. “I don’t think you have much of a choice, seeing as how you
took a bullet to the side.”

He shook his head. “It went clean through.
Must not have hit any major organs, or I’d be dead already. I’ll be
fine as soon as it heals up.”

“You can’t just wait for it to heal on its
own. That would take forever, and you could get an infection
or—”

He shook his head, causing a lock of dark
hair to tumble into his eyes. “I’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

She eyed him from the top of his head to his
bare toes. He weighed maybe…one eighty? She wasn’t an expert judge
of weight, but if it came down to it, would she be able to wrestle
him into the truck? Maybe. Blood loss had to have weakened him, and
he sure as hell wasn’t going to go voluntarily. But what if she
hurt him? If he started gushing again, he might bleed to death.
Tiny beads of sweat dampened her brow as she contemplated the
dilemma. “Look, Jack – that’s not possible, and we both know it.
Human bodies don’t recover from gunshot wounds over the course of a
single day.”

He grunted something that sounded alarmingly
like ‘not human’, and Mandy’s worry reached an all-time high.
Clearly, he was in shock. Seriously disoriented. “Of course you’re
human, Jack.” Every inch of his muscular body was all man. “Now
let’s get you into that truck – do you know where the keys
are?”

He growled at her. Actually growled. A part
of Mandy wanted to run from the ludicrous situation and back to
Nashville, but no way would she leave Jack behind, and escaping
wouldn’t be easy, with or without him. She started to speak, but he
cut her off.

“If you’d stop lecturin’ me for five damn
seconds, I’d explain. I’m not crazy.” He stared at her, a defiant
golden gleam in his eyes.

Mandy clamped her mouth shut. Fine. He had
exactly ‘five damn seconds’ to explain, and then they were getting
into the truck.

“I’m just as much a wolf as I am a man,” he
said. “A shifter. That’s why I can’t go to the hospital.”

“Okay, Jack.” Mandy rose and laid a hand on
his shoulder. He felt hot. She pressed the back of her hand against
his forehead. “You’re burning up.” Clearly, his fevered brain had
confused his identity with that of his huge fanged pet. “Don’t
worry – we’re going to get you some help. Just—”

“Damn it,” he huffed, snatching her hand away
from his face and holding it tight within his own. “That’s normal –
I have a wolf’s body temperature no matter what form I’m in. Now do
you see why I can’t go to the hospital? Not that I need it – as
soon as night falls and I get back under the moonlight, my body
will continue repairing itself. I’ll be good as new by
sunrise.”

Either he had a very active imagination that
was being manipulated by his fever, or he was flat-out lying in an
attempt to escape proper medical care. “Calm down. You don’t want
to break your wound open again.” The dull, persistent pain of a
tension headache had sprung up between her eyes, and she didn’t
know what to do. She had to get Jack into the truck – his life
might depend on it.

“Where’s your bathroom?” she asked, shaking
her head as she rose. She hadn’t had a chance to use it after
waking and she needed a minute or two away from him to clear her
mind anyway. He nodded toward a narrow door in a far corner of the
room and she slipped inside. A couple minutes later she emerged
back into the living room. “All right, Jack. Let’s talk reasonably
about the hospital now.”

He growled again, and a shiver raced down
Mandy’s spine. The sound brought back memories from her dreams of
the night before, causing her mouth to go slack with surprise. She
hastily snapped it shut. “Please, Jack.” Now she’d been reduced to
pleading. Well, if it saved his life… “Please just get into the
truck with me.”