Lucas—a muscled, snarling, teeth snapping mass of black fur—leapt into the air. He caught the neck of the first coyote with his teeth, and, using that hold, he threw the coyote through the air. He swiped the second beast with his claws, cutting him open and the blood sprayed Lucas’s fur.
Kill.
Not her thought.
Glass shattered as more coyotes flew through the windows. Two more coyotes attacked Lucas. Snarling, biting.
Kill. Lucas’s only thought. No, wait, he was also—
Protect.
She dug her fingers into Michael’s fur. His giant body was trembling with the effort of holding back. He wanted into that fray, but he wasn’t about to disobey his alpha.
A coyote’s body hit the floor. Blood matted his fur. Another coyote launched onto Lucas’s back, sinking his teeth into muscle and bone. Lucas rolled over, slamming the coyote into the floor.
Kill.
A howl echoed in the distance, but this howl was deeper than the others. Harder. Darker. Familiar.
Rafe.
The swarm of smaller coyote bodies had almost hidden Lucas now. The coyotes weren’t even trying to come for her, they just wanted to take Lucas out. That had been the plan, right?
Her fingers were still in Michael’s fur. She crouched back behind the couch. Your alpha needs you. They don’t want me, they’re going to kill him. While she hid and watched.
You don’t know my alpha. Michael’s voice floated in her mind. He’s stronger, he’s—
More snarls and growls. More freaking coyotes. Help him. She lunged to her feet even as Michael leapt forward.
“Hey, bastards! How does it feel to be nothing more than freaking pit bulls for—”
Blood. Teeth. Fury. Not from the coyotes. Their bodies littered the floor. From Lucas. The wolf stood poised inside the doorway, blood dripping from his teeth, those blue eyes so bright they hurt to look at.
Oh, damn. He’d taken them all out.
Here’s your chance. Run. Get to the car and drive back to base.
Because another attack would be coming.
“They’re after you tonight, not me,” Sarah said. Michael was sniffing around the coyotes, making sure they didn’t rise. “I’m not leaving you.”
They’ll rip you apart.
Great. Nice visual. Sadly, a true visual. Not like she could fight the coyotes. “Let’s all get the hell out of here.” Before they all died. She knew the wolf waiting out there, he wouldn’t be alone. He never was, he—
The wail of sirens echoed in the night. Sirens? Oh, crap, yes, the cops had been watching the house. The coyotes would still be in human form when they first arrived. Dozens of men, swarming on a closed crime scene—of course any cop in the area would have called for backup.
Those sirens were getting close now. So close.
And she didn’t hear anymore howls. No more snarls.
Some of the coyotes, the dead, had already shifted back to human form. The others were hauling ass out of that cabin.
Run, Lucas. Get out. The cops can’t find you here.
His head tilted. She knew he heard the raised voices of the cops. She knew because she was in his head and could pick up his every thought.
His gaze bored into her. “I’ll be fine,” she promised. Such a lie.
And he knew it.
But what choice was there? Was he really going to face the LAPD in full-on wolf form? Especially when that detective was already gunning for him? A blood-soaked wolf. Right. The cops would shoot instantly when they saw him.
She could already hear the thunder of gunfire. Were the cops firing at the coyotes?
“You’ve got to run, Lucas. I’ll need someone to bail my ass out of jail.” Because that’s where she was heading.
His blue eyes burned. Tell them nothing.
“You can count on that.” Like they’d believe her anyway. “Go.”
He whirled away, a dangerous shadow, and he dove through the remains of the broken door. Michael followed on his heels, a slightly smaller, but just as dangerous beast.
Her hands balled into fists even as her gaze darted to the dead men. Men, now, not beasts, and they were men who’d died in a manner that looked too similar to John’s death. Ripped throats. Torn bodies. And, of course, there she stood, right in the middle of the bloodbath.
“Freeze!” A man’s snarl this time, not a wolf’s, but she hadn’t been moving anyway. Sarah let her stare dart to the doorway. To the two scared-looking cops. Their eyes weren’t on her. They were staring at the bodies. Four bodies. And a hell of a lot of blood.
Lucas was stronger than she’d realized and so much more dangerous. Was she really up for this game?
“Holy fucking shit . . .” One of the uniforms swallowed quickly and it looked like he might be sick.
Now what was she supposed to say? The older cop, the one who’d gone two shades paler, had his gun pointed right at her. “I didn’t do this,” she finally managed. Yes, that sounded good. “There’s no blood on me, I don’t have a weapon—I didn’t do this.”
“Then who the hell did?” The older cop barked.
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
“Who did this?”
Her mouth snapped closed. She wouldn’t trade Lucas’s secrets for her life.
A groan had her attention shifting to that blood-soaked floor. Marley blinked up at her. “Wh—”
“Is someone else there?” The cop yelled, and the guy’s partner finally seemed to get control of himself. Now two guns were pointed right at her.
“Look, officers—”
“Cops?” Marley’s whisper. “No.” She sprang to her feet, and then the fire erupted. A line of flames snaked across the cabin, burning the dead shifters as the fire crackled and spread—and those flames, they headed right for the cops.
“Sonofabitch!”
Bullets blasted. Pain burned across Sarah’s arm. From the fire? From the bullets? The flames raged higher. The demon vanished in the growing smoke, and Sarah was left to face the fire alone.
The echo of gunfire reverberated in Lucas’s ears even as the scent of smoke burned his nose. He froze in the woods, his head tilting back. His body still had the form of a wolf, but the man inside was all too aware of the dangers around him. Bullets and smoke. His head turned . . .
The old cabin.
He lunged forward, but Michael plowed into his side, knocking him back.
Have to get away. Michael’s desperate thought, one that was reflected in the eyes of the wolf. We left too many dead back there. Can’t let the cops get us.
Like he fucking cared about the cops. Sarah. She couldn’t handle fire and if one of those idiots so much as scratched her—
You can’t help her as a wolf. Michael’s fierce reminder.
No, the wolf couldn’t help her.
The cops will take her in, Michael continued, panting from the run they’d made. We’ll get her out. We’ll do whatever we have to do, but we’ll get her out.
He spun away, a howl ripping from his throat as he let the hot pain of the shift sweep through his body.
He’d promised to protect Sarah, and he damn well planned to keep his part of the deal.
Dane slowly opened his eyes, aware that something wet was dripping down his face. His nostrils flared—shit, that something wet was blood. That scent was undeniable, and so was the scent of . . . coyote.
Fuck. He was sitting down, his body slumped in a chair, and his arms were behind his back. He tried lifting his hands, but metal bit into his wrists. Hard, burning metal.
“It’s silver,” a soft voice told him.
His gaze flew to the left. There she was. The pretty little thing who’d screwed his concentration in the woods. A weakness for women—when the hell would he learn?
“Sorry about that,” she said, not sounding sorry. “But I didn’t have a lot of choice.”
His lips stretched in a mirthless grin. “I’m sure you didn’t.” He made sure she saw his
lengthening fangs.
“We needed you.” One shoulder lifted in a shrug that had her red hair sliding back over her shirt. “At least you’re still alive.”
Why was he still alive? Coyotes didn’t usually let their prey survive.
Her gaze tracked to the blood sliding down his face. “Shouldn’t you have healed from that?”
And shouldn’t she know that not all shifters healed at the same rate? “Silver’s slowing me down,” he muttered.
A fast blink from her. “Right.”
Bullshit. “What’s the plan? You gonna let the dogs in so they can take turns swiping at me?” Or was she going to save all the torturing fun for herself?
Now her eyes darted to the window on the left. The only window in the room. He jerked against the cuffs once more. No damn give at all. But . . . he let his claws break through the skin.
“They’re not here right now,” she whispered.
His brows snapped up, and he felt the faint pull from the torn skin on his forehead. He vaguely remembered slamming into the rocks when the asshole behind him attacked. “Where are they?”
“You don’t really want to know.”
The claw on his left index finger slipped inside the lock. “Where?” His voice was loud, the better to cover the scratch of his claws as he worked on the cuffs. The silver burned, but he was used to pain. Pain had been his intimate friend since before he could even shift, and he had the criss-cross of scars on his body to prove it.
“Why do you think you’re still alive?” she asked instead. Fine, he’d keep her talking. “You want to use me.” He let his gaze rake her. “Can’t say that I’ll mind you using me.”
She blushed. What the fuck? Since when did coyote women blush? Sex was as natural to them as breathing—and killing. His nostrils flared again. The scent of coyote was everywhere and it was strongest around the woman.
“If they don’t succeed, we’ll trade you.”
The claw snagged on the locking mechanism. “For the charmer?”
He caught the faint widening of her eyes. “She told you what she could do?”
“Even gave us a little demo.” He kept his smile in place. “So what does a bunch of dogs want with a little lady who only works with wolves?”
“You know the bounty on her.”
He whistled just as the lock popped open. “Can’t say I wasn’t tempted to take that myself.”
“You’d turn on your alpha?” No missing the doubt heavy in her voice. “Don’t lie to me.”
He wouldn’t.
“He should have just turned her over. Now there will be no chance for him.”
Tension had his body tight. “Your dogs went after Lucas?”
“The truce is over. They’re going to drag his body back.”
Pretty face, bitch beneath the surface. “If you really think they’re strong enough to take him down, then why am I still breathing?”
“Told you . . .” She paced to the window, peered outside, and made the mistake of giving him her back. Bad mistake. “You’re the backup plan. If Lucas manages to get away, then—”
He pounced. He jumped from the chair and had his claws at her throat in less than a second’s time. “Then nothing, sweetheart, because your plan has just changed.”
She stiffened against him, her smaller body going taut. Her gaze still focused out the window, and, over her shoulder, he saw the trucks spinning into the drive. The dogs were back.
“No, it hasn’t,” she told him quietly. “But it looks like your time has run out.” Then she turned toward him. His claws pressed over her throat. “Kill me.” Another shrug. “They’ll still kill you as soon as they come inside.”
But he could see the limping, bleeding bodies as the coyotes tumbled out of the trucks. She hadn’t actually looked at the coyotes before she’d spun away. “Guess again.”
Her delicate nostrils flared and her eyes—so gold and wide—searched his. Then she opened her mouth to scream.
Too late.
When Detective Bruce Langston shoved open the door of the small interrogation room, Sarah straightened in the too-hard and wobbly chair.
One black brow lifted. “Back so soon, Ms. King?”
She flattened her hands on the table. “I need to be at a hospital.” She coughed, a hard, heaving cough that was only half-pretend. Damn demon—she’d gotten away in the smoke while Sarah had needed the cops to pull her out of the flames. “I . . . shouldn’t be here . . . I need a doctor.”
“And I need a damn wolf in a cage.”
Her body stiffened.
He kicked the door closed. “Yeah, you heard me.”
She licked her lips. “I heard you . . . I just don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit.” He paced around the wooden table, his gaze raking her. “Lover-boy blew his hand. I saw his eyes glow. I saw the claws. I know.”
“Well, I don’t.” Her eyes slanted to the left, to the window that lined the wall. Was someone watching in there? “And if you’re not careful, your cop buddies are going to think . . .” another cough, this one completely real, “you’re crazy.”
He stopped in front of her and slammed his fists down onto the table. Sarah flinched.
“Don’t fucking lie to me!” He snarled, face far too close to hers. “We both know what Lucas Simone is!”
“I don’t even understand what you’re yelling about!” So the cop knew the deal. Maybe he’d known all along. Was he working with the other paranormals in the city? Or, hell, no, could he be working with Rafe? So many cops were on the take . . . she knew that better than others.
But if he were working with Rafe, she wouldn’t be in interrogation—she’d be in a body bag.
“He left you to burn.” Bruce’s hands lifted and his finger traced over the back of her ash stained hand. “You saved his ass, but he left you.”
One way of looking at it. She snatched her hand back.
“You don’t owe him anything,” the detective said, voice a little too smooth now. What? Where was all that fiery rage he’d just shown? Was he a one-man good cop/bad cop routine?
“Maybe I don’t,” she said, wondering where this was going and also wondering—where the hell was Lucas? Spending the night in a cage didn’t exactly appeal to her.
Bruce nodded. “Good girl. Think about yourself.”
“That’s all I ever think about.”
His gaze searched hers. “I want Simone. He’s an animal, and he needs to be taken down before he kills again.”
“Lucas Simone isn’t a killer.”
He laughed at her.
“Lucas wasn’t anywhere near that house tonight.” She exhaled. “Ask the cops. No one saw him. Because he wasn’t there.”
Bruce’s fingers closed around her hands in a grip that was almost painful. Walking the line. “Officer Meadows told me about the bodies, how they’d been slashed, throats ripped, guts torn open.”
Right. Like she needed another visual. Been there. “He was wrong.” And she owed the demon for this, at least. “And if the fire hadn’t burned so fast, you’d see the truth for yourself.” But there’d be no seeing for anyone. That demon’s fire had burned right through flesh and taken all the evidence away. By the time the firefighters had arrived on the scene, nothing had been left.
The detective’s scent—sweat and cheap cologne—clogged the air around her. “You don’t want me for an enemy.”
“What I want . . . is a lawyer.” She tore her hands away from his and turned her head to glare at the mirror. “And I want one now.”
Silence.
“No one’s in there.”
Figured.
“And no lawyer is coming for you.”
That didn’t sound good.
He pulled away from the table and rolled his shoulders. “I’ve got a daughter,” he told her as he began to pace the small room.
Uh, what? How had they gone from dead bodies to his personal life?
“She’
s real sick.” He paused and his gaze went distant. “Cancer. Eight years old . . . and she has cancer.”
What was happening here? “I’m . . . sorry.” And she was. No child should ever have to suffer such pain.
“Cops don’t make much.”
A chill iced her skin. No, don’t say—
He rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re going to try and escape custody in a few minutes.”
Rafe.
His right hand brushed back the edge of his jacket, and she saw the butt of his gun. “You’re going to try to get away, but you’re going to fail.”
Her mouth had gone bone dry. “Let me guess . . .” Her hands curled under the edge of the table. “You’ll have to shoot me, right?”
“Kelly’s real sick.” His eyes glittered at her. “She’s a little girl. She deserves to live. And you—you’re a killer, just like Simone. I saw the file on you. I know what you’ve done.”
So she wasn’t perfect. “What file? Who told you about me?”
“Jess Ortez.”
Damn him. “Jess doesn’t know everything.” Her left arm still stung from the bullet that had clipped her. The EMTs on the scene had bandaged her up, but she knew the next wound wouldn’t be one that a bandage could easily fix. Trapped in this ten-by-twelve-foot room, the cop wouldn’t exactly have a hard target.
“I’m sorry, lady, but you’re worth more dead than you are alive.”
“No, I’m not.” Her hands tightened on the table. She could heave it at him, but then what? He was blocking the door and she wasn’t armed. “I’m actually worth even more if you can bring me in alive.”
He blinked and his hand stopped inching toward the holster.
She almost took a deep breath then.
But old Bruce just shook his head. “Bullshit, but nice try.” Then his hand went to his hip.
Her body tensed in anticipation of the bullet, but he just grabbed the cuffs on his waist. “ ’Fraid you’ll be coming with me.”
Because he wasn’t going to shoot her there. Relief had her face flushing. So she had a few more minutes to live. A good thing, right? Where was Lucas? Bruce crept close to her, nice and slow. “Hold out your hands.”
She put them out but said, “If you cuff me, won’t that mess up your whole she-was-running-story?”