Wolf at the Door: Salvation Pack, Book 1 (13 page)

“You can’t have her.” Jacque drew the line between his past and his future.

“Now, that’s not neighborly at all. You got no respect in you, boy.”

Jacque ignored Andre’s attempt to anger him by referencing his age. “Not for you, at any rate,” he agreed.

Andre pushed away from the tree and smiled, showing a mouthful of shiny white teeth. “Now you don’t think I came alone, do you?”

Jacque pounced, changing in midair, something only the strongest of them could do. Andre’s eyes widened and Jacque knew the other male had had no idea he could do such a thing. He’d always downplayed his abilities around his father, mostly for his own protection. His father would have had him killed decades ago if he believed for one minute his son might one day be stronger than him.

But Andre had been a killer his entire life and he moved with the swiftness of his kind. He rolled away and came up on two feet. “Come taste my knife. And while you do that my men will take your little human.”

Jacque refused to be baited. He circled slowly, watching for his chance.

Gator charged from the right, fracturing Andre’s concentration and distracting him enough for Jacque to pounce. The knife blade came down in a flash, but Jacque caught Andre’s wrist in his powerful jaws, clamping down hard. Bones crunched beneath his teeth and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. He hung on until the knife fell from Andre’s hand and then he released his grip, readying himself to strike at his opponent’s throat.

But Andre was shifting fast. His clothing ripped away from his body as he changed. Jacque was forced to quickly jump back as sharp claws raked at his neck. They stood ten feet apart, both huge wolves with saliva dripping from their deadly fangs. Both killers.

A howl echoed through the woods. Jacque recognized the call for help as Armand. He knew the other man would only call if there was dire need, and that meant the cabin was under siege. Gwen was under attack.

He glanced at Gator, signaling that he and Cole should retreat to the cabin. Andre chose that split second of inattention to spring. Jacque caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and threw himself sideways, arching his back and rolling in midair. He had to trust his men to protect Gwen. The biggest threat to her safety was here in front of him. Plus, he knew if he ran, Andre would chase him. And that would take his father’s assassin straight to Gwen.

No, this ended here and now.

Jacque snarled at the older man, letting him know he wasn’t impressed by his reputation or frightened of him in the least. Andre showed his fangs and growled before snapping at Jacque’s face. Jacque jerked his muzzle aside but stood his ground, knowing it would provoke the other male into making a move. He’d made a study of Andre over the long years in his father’s pack and the male was nothing if not predictable. He had a temper and could be goaded into making a mistake.

Andre pounced, and even though Jacque knew it was coming he barely had time to make his own move. He jerked to one side and jumped, swiveling midair and coming down on the other wolf’s back. His huge jaw clamped onto his opponent’s neck and he bit through skin and muscle, finding bone.

Andre twisted and turned, trying to shake him off, but Jacque held on, knowing Gwen’s safety depended on it. Jacque raked the sides of the wolf beneath him with his long claws. The scent of blood and violence filled the air. Jacque relished the sluggish movements of his foe as blood loss began to slow him.

A howl filled the air, quickly followed by another. Jacque recognized Gator and Armand. What was happening?

He shook the wolf held captive in his jaws and, when the animal didn’t stir, Jacque released him, the taste of his opponent’s blood in his mouth. He tilted his head back, howled in victory and then he whirled around and raced back toward the cabin and Gwen.

Because he didn’t look back, he didn’t see the dark, malicious eyes of the wolf lying on the ground slowly open.

Chapter Ten

Gwen tore her eyes away from the bloody scene outside the window and started searching for a weapon. Any weapon. The snarls and growls were getting louder. It was bloodier than any movie she’d ever seen or book she’d ever read. The reality of the situation was shocking.

These men, these wolves, were out to kill one another. There was no give in any of them. They were primal fighting machines, honed to be the best. Thick muscles and fur were their only armor. Their weapons were razor claws and deadly fangs.

And they were big. Much larger than any normal wolves and twice as deadly.

She took one slow breath and then another to keep from hyperventilating. The attack had happened so fast, with a half-dozen wolves streaming out of the surrounding woods. Louis had turned to her, fury in his dark-brown eyes and ordered her to stay inside and keep the doors locked. She really didn’t think that a locked door was going to keep these creatures out if they wanted in.

“Where would they keep weapons?” She raced away from the living room window and down the hallway, ignoring Jacque’s bedroom. He wouldn’t have kept any weapons in there, not with her sleeping there.

There was another bedroom, which she assumed belonged to Louis. She bypassed it and went to the room at the end of the hallway. It was an office and was the most likely place for her to find a weapon of some kind. She stumbled into the room but managed to catch herself on the corner of a large oak desk that sat in the center of the room. She could easily imagine Jacque seated in the oversize leather chair behind the desk.

Jacque. She didn’t want to think about what was happening in the forest. He’d gone to fight that man, Andre Dubois, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was afraid for him. “Stop it, Gwen. Focus on the job at hand.” She needed a gun, preferably a big one.

She pushed away from the desk and searched the drawers. Nothing but papers and office supplies. The shelves were filled with books and beautiful woodcarvings, but no weapons. “Crap.” She raked her fingers through her hair as her eyes darted around the room. At another time she would have enjoyed being in this space. It was very masculine with its wood walls and heavy furniture. Solid. That was the word for it. And reliable. Much like Jacque himself.

She groaned in frustration. “Where would he hide the weapons?” And they had to have weapons, didn’t they? She chewed on her lower lip as another howl made every fine hair on her body stand on end. Maybe not. They were weapons in their own right.

Her foot hooked into the end of the rug and she almost tripped. She started to push back the edge of the fabric that had flipped up but paused when she noticed a slight wearing along the seam. That would be too clichéd. But then again, clichés existed for a reason. “Is there a hidey-hole under the floorboards?” She whipped back the rug and found a two-foot square seam in the otherwise pristine floor.

Gwen fell to her knees and dug her fingernails into the thin crack. Sweat dripped down her temple as she desperately tried to open the hatch. There was no handle, no obvious way to get into it. “Damn you, LaForge.” If she had Jacque here right now she’d smack him.

She jumped up and went back to his desk. There had to be something she could use to pry the thing open. An ornate letter opener caught her eye and she grabbed it. If nothing else, she could use it as a makeshift knife. If this didn’t work she was heading to the kitchen next to find a sharp knife. She’d much prefer a gun. She didn’t want to have to get any closer than necessary to any of those creatures outside.

Another dreadful howl sent her heart into overdrive. Was that one closer? She dropped to her knees, dug the blade into the seam and shoved down on the handle, trying to use leverage to open it. Nothing happened at first. Tears of frustration pricked her eyes. “Come on, you bastard, open.” She yanked out the letter opener, jammed it in on the other side and shoved down on the handle with all her weight. It moved ever so slightly.

“Open, damn it.” She pushed again, ignoring the quivering of the muscles in her arms. Her entire body was shaky. She certainly wasn’t at her peak after everything she’d been through. Her head was beginning to pound incessantly again and all she wanted to do was lie down and close her eyes.

She gave another shove and the floorboard gave, lifting the tiniest bit. “Almost there.” She gritted her teeth and threw everything she had into it. The board popped up enough for her to jam her fingers into the opening. She dropped the letter opener onto the hardwood and used both hands. She gave a yell and heaved. The hatch popped up suddenly, sending her flying. She hit the floor hard, her head bouncing once.

Nausea roiled in her stomach but she swallowed it back. There wasn’t time for her to be sick. She dragged herself over to the opening and groaned when she saw several leather bound journals. They certainly wouldn’t help her. At another time she would be very interested in what was inside them, but not now. Maybe if she survived this ordeal.

She shoved them aside and gave a moan of relief. “Thank you, Jesus.” She grabbed a rather impressive looking gun. She had no idea what kind it was, but it was big and she prayed it was loaded. The letter opener sat on the floor beside her and she thought about taking it with her, but the tip was bent, making it useless as a weapon.

She tried to stand, but her vision got blurry and she ended up flat on her ass again. “Get up, Gwen,” she ordered herself. There would be time enough to rest later. If she couldn’t fight she’d probably die.

She’d finally come to the conclusion that Jacque and his pack of wolves were the good guys. The wolves that attacked were all business. They’d come to kill. Louis and Armand were out there fighting to keep her safe. Not the actions of men who planned to kill her anytime soon.

That didn’t mean she still wasn’t pissed with Jacque and Louis for destroying the life she’d built, but if it weren’t for them she’d probably already be dead.

Gwen caught the edge of a heavy leather club chair and used the arm as support. She dragged herself to her feet, gulping in air to keep from passing out. The shirt she wore was stuck to her torso with sweat. She went to wipe her forehead and almost smacked herself with the gun.

“Focus, Gwen.” She clenched her teeth and rode out the pain. When it was manageable, she made her way back down the hallway to the living room, bouncing off the walls like a drunk after a weekend bender.

She glanced out the large picture window in the living room, keeping to the side and out of sight. It was impossible for her to tell who was who in the frenzy of fur and fighting. There were even more wolves now than there had been earlier. Either Jacque, Gator and Cole had joined in the fray or there were more bad guys.

Several bodies littered the ground, two in wolf form and the other in human. The human male had his throat ripped out and his neck was twisted at an impossible angle. There was no doubt he was dead. Gwen swallowed heavily and brought the gun up to her chest, holding it with both hands.

Point and pull the trigger. She knew enough to do that. Didn’t guns have a safety mechanism? She looked down at the handle and barrel but couldn’t find anything. If she lived through this she was definitely getting lessons.

Someone or something started pounding on the front door. Gwen’s whole body jerked toward it and watched in horror as the wood bowed inward with the force of the blows. She staggered away from the window and into a corner of the room. That kept anyone from sneaking up behind her and it supported her body, which was quickly running out of juice. Her knees were weak, her legs trembling.

Gwen steadied herself and raised the gun, holding it like they did in the movies with her left hand steadying her right and her finger on the trigger. The heavy door was hit again. This time the hinges gave and the thick panel was shoved inward. A huge creature, half man and half wolf, stalked in on two legs. Shit, if she lived through this she’d have nightmares for the rest of her life. It was like something out of a movie, only these teeth glistening with saliva and blood were all too real.

The creature roared and leapt across the room, his movements so fast they were a blur. Gwen fired the gun. It took more strength to pull the trigger than she imagined it would and the recoil would have knocked her flat on her back if she hadn’t been backed up against the wall. She fired again. And again. And again.

Everything seemed to unfold in slow motion. The creature, claws extended and jaws open, got closer even though she continued to fire. The flash from the muzzle, the smell of gunpowder, the loud banging sound all coalesced into one moment of time.

The wolf wasn’t stopping. Gwen flung herself to the side and rolled just in time to keep from getting smashed against the wall by the creature. Every muscle in her body protested and her head threatened to explode at the latest abuse. A loud crash sounded behind her. She rolled again and came up on her knees so she was facing the creature, but he was down. He lay on the floor about six feet away and he wasn’t moving. As she watched, he morphed back into a man, his lips moving. She couldn’t hear what he was saying and then he stopped completely, going silent forever.

She’d killed a man. She’d truly and honestly killed him. That it was self-defense didn’t help her much at the moment. She fell forward, catching herself with one hand as her stomach rebelled and she heaved. Not that there was anything to come up. She couldn’t remember when she’d eaten last.

Gwen swallowed heavily and pulled herself away from the dead body. The fighting sounded as though it was moving away from her. Or maybe it was just her. It was getting more difficult to keep her gaze focused on anything.