There would be a rifle sitting out in the hills all by its lonesome.
Caleb tucked his 9 mm in the small of his back and headed back up the road.
Chapter Nineteen
The light of the waxing moon shone down on the desert, creating stark shadows as she soared. The wind lifted her, a warm thermal pushing up from the sun-warmed sandstone along the canyon floor. Her sharp eyes roamed the ground, not looking for color or contrast. No, she was looking for movement.
A sudden cool breeze lifted the speckled white feathers of her breast, and from the corner of her sharp, golden eye, she saw it.
A figure, larger than the squirrels and rodents she usually hunted, moving nimbly over the rocks.
Bobcat!
With an instinctual shriek, she dove.
It was the greatest rush, her addicting speed, and the reason she rarely shifted to anything else but her natural form. As a red-tailed hawk, her dive could reach well over five hundred miles an hour. Her talons landing in the soft fur of her prey, clutching before she beat her wings and soared away. Jena screamed again, swooping and circling as the cat darted between the shadowed tumble of boulders on the hillside.
Not prey. She wheeled and beat her wings to watch again. This bobcat was no dumb animal, but a wily shifter in natural form. He knew she would be looking for him, so he kept away from open ground, darting in and out of the rocks, leading her farther and farther from the truck where Caleb waited.
Where was he going? She felt for the right current of air and tilted her broad wings, so the high wind lifted her, hovering as she scanned the desert landscape. The bobcat was thick, marked with the dull, spotted coloring that concealed him well in the rocks. If he had been stationery, she would have never spotted him. But he leapt and darted, zigzagging back and forth to draw her attention while still remaining infuriatingly out of reach.
Jena shrieked again, her eyes never leaving the small cat. How far could she track it? How far would he run?
Why?
Suddenly, her human consciousness took over from instinct and Jena shrieked again.
The animal was leading her away from Caleb.
She was just about to dip into the breeze and fly back to the canyon when she heard the gun shot.
Chapter Twenty
Caleb jogged back down the road, then past the weedy edge before he crawled up the rocks. The road they were driving passed through a large section of canyon, but there was a jagged wash that cut through it, the kind he’d been taught to avoid since childhood. Animal tracks covered the sand in the bottom, leading away from the road and up into the rocky crevice old water had carved. With a grimace, Caleb followed them, tension thick as his feet sank into the sand.
Rain in the desert was a funny thing. Monsoons dropped vast amounts of water into the harsh landscape in short bursts, blowing away as quickly as they came. Often, that water ran over the rocks and sand, filling dry creek beds and traveling at lightning speed. A dry desert wash could fill with water from fifty miles away, tumbling and taking anything in its path as it cut through the rocky ground.
You didn’t linger in a wash. Especially when there had been rain, like there had been only an hour before. If you were in a vehicle, you crossed it as quickly as possible. If you were on foot, you did the same. Caleb tried to ignore the hair that rose on the back of his neck as he moved quickly, keeping to the firmer edge and avoiding the soft sand in the middle. Red walls rose on either side of him as he jogged.
He saw the tracks end, then change, a muddled scrabbling in the dirt before new tracks emerged. Footprints—small for a man, but large for a woman—finding purchase in the sand, then disappearing up the side of the creek bed. Whoever made them must have scanned the area as an animal, followed the wash up from the road, then shifted in order to fire the weapon. Which meant if Caleb climbed those boulders that had tumbled down from the edge, he would likely find the spot the shooter had aimed from and, if he was lucky, the weapon, too.
He smelled it before he heard it, the scent of rainwater that blew past, alien in the dusty air. His heart sped up, and he ran toward the edge, scrambling up the sandstone boulders, grabbing onto the wizened roots that had been bared the last time the water rushed past. He was halfway up when his foot slipped and stuck between them.
He cried out, despite his attempts at stealth. Before a curse could cross his lips, he heard the low rumble, like distant thunder.
Just his luck, the water was coming.
Caleb shook his head. “No, dammit. I’m not dying out here.”
He panted, pulling on his leg, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Shit! Are you kidding me?” He was going to be swept away in the rush. For a second, he almost laughed. Thirty-five years of life, twelve years in some of the toughest law enforcement assignments he could find. Shot at, beaten up… and he was going to bite it in a flash flood like old drunk Russell Begay had when Caleb was ten. He grunted and tried to twist his leg to the side, but something had shifted beneath his foot, trapping his foot firmly in the large rocks, which were too big to lift. Too bad he wasn’t old Begay, who had the skinniest damn legs Caleb could ever remember seeing on a man. The things looked like sticks. Old, twisty… sticks.
He blinked and stilled, slipping into his mind as he focused on the childhood memory. He’d never tried to force a shift when he was this panicked. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind and ignore the sound of the water, which was growing louder by the second.
Old. Skinny. Wizened from age and too much drink.
Caleb felt his clothes grow loose on his frame. The pressure on his leg lightened. It was the most dramatic shift he’d ever made, and he fought back the initial nausea, pulled his leg free, then scrambled up the side of the rock wall only seconds before the muddy water whipped by.
It churned past in a roar, at least six feet deep and thick with sand, rock, and the remains of a rusted old car. Caleb lay on his back, panting and looking up at the moon as he heard an owl hoot and small creatures move in the desert night. The water splashed up the rocks, soaking him, annoyed that it had lost its prey. Caleb turned and gave the dark water a smile before he lifted his hands. He stared at the wrinkled old skin, wishing he had a mirror to satisfy his curiosity. Did the picture in his memory match the face he would see? Would it be different or exact? There was no way of knowing and he still had a mission, so Caleb shifted back to his own body and held still, waiting for the twisting in his gut to pass. He stared into the dark sky.
Where was Jena? Would she be able to find him? Caleb sat up and pulled the 9 mm from the small of his back, thankful it hadn’t fallen or moved when his body had. He looked around for footprints, scowling when he realized he’d made a mess of the sand at the edge. It was too dark to see much farther than a few feet in front of him, even with the bright moon. He took a few steps forward, then stilled. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, listening.
The churning water. A scampering sound and an owl’s hoot. A coyote far off in the distance. A rustling in the juniper bushes. Gravel crunched with a whisper.
More rustling… Something was in the brush behind him.
He opened his eyes and took a few steps forward. It grew quiet again. If he hadn’t been paranoid, he would have missed it, mistaken it for the breeze or his imagination. But it wasn’t. He slowly cut his eyes to the right. The area around the dry creek was tangled with low juniper and cottonwoods that had found some hidden moisture in the canyon floor. He continued walking, more curious to see if the animal followed or was just passing through. The grip on his gun tightened.
Jena said the claw marks looked like bobcat, but unless Cambio Springs made much bigger bobcats than he was familiar with, whatever was following him was something else. Something larger, with a soft step and a larger body that shifted the brush. From the corner of his eye, he caught more footprints. Keeping his ears open, he crouched down.
They were light, almost delicate where they had pressed into the
sand. He looked around to see where they might lead and spotted it. Just over the edge of a boulder, was the barrel of a rifle, black in the silver moonlight. He crawled up the rocks until he was in the same position the shooter must have taken.
It was an old lever-action Winchester. Nothing distinctive about this one. Still, he would run the registration, if it had one. Considering how long families stayed in the area, it was entirely possible that the rifle had been passed down. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was no registration on file, particularly since the old rifle had been used to take a shot at a cop. Still crouching behind the boulder, he put himself in the attitude of the shooter and imagined lifting the weapon, aiming toward the point where the road crossed the gully.
It was an easy distance for a good shot. A challenging one for an average shooter. Had the bullet been intended to scare them? Kill them? Would he have tried to kill both Caleb and Jena, or was only one of them the target? He puffed out a frustrated breath and suddenly realized that he hadn’t heard any rustling in a few moments.
It was quiet. The sounds in the brush had disappeared and an ominous silence took their place. No birds chirped. No insects hummed. Something was still out there. His only consolation was that it was in animal form and he had guns.
Caleb stood, grabbing the rifle. “Want to come out and introduce yourself?”
Nothing. Or was there? He heard the shifting of a foot—or paw—to his left. A slight motion in the cottonwoods that shivered and stilled.
“You the one that shot at us? Or were you just watching?”
He tried not to look around. He was no animal and had too great a respect for their stealth to imagine he could spot it if it didn’t want to be found. But did it? There was still no sound but his own rapid heartbeat and deep breaths. The longer he waited, the more tension filled the air.
“Maybe you didn’t have anything to do with Alma’s death.” He looked, but there was nothing. “Whoever you are, at least give me an idea of what I’m dealing with here. Wolf? Bobcat? Snake?” It wasn’t a snake. “There some bunny rabbit shifters that no one’s told me about?” he shouted into the desert. “I’m getting bored now, so I think I’m going to just take this nice rifle here and go back to my truck. Figure I might be able to get some prints off of it if I—oof!”
He didn’t even hear the attack. The massive weight slammed into his back, knocking him to the ground as two sets of claws dug into his shoulders. His mouth tasted sand as he tumbled forward, both guns flying out of his hands.
Mountain lion. It sprang away as he rolled.
“Holy—wow.” The giant animal crouched in front of him. He’d never seen one up close. “So that’s why they call you a lion. Not a kitty cat, are you?” It was massive, probably measuring eight feet or more from nose to tail. It snarled once as Caleb rolled toward his gun. The rifle lay in the dirt, knocked out of his hands when the animal had pounced. “Not really a lion either, are you, shifter?” It snarled again, its whiskers twitching in what might have been a laugh.
The thick golden fur shone with a dull glow in the moonlight. With one flick of its giant back paw, the lion kicked the rifle into the still-running water of the wash as Caleb came up, clutching his 9 mm. He aimed at the shifter, who hissed and sprang on him. Caleb’s arms were knocked to the side when the gun went off. Then the lion pounced on him and a hawk’s scream echoed in the night air. The lion lifted his head, searching the sky, then jumped off Caleb and disappeared into the night.
The breath roared back into his chest and he placed one hand over his heart, waiting for it to calm before he stood. He heard the hawk cry out again.
“Jena, where are you?” He looked around in panic. “Jena?”
Did that cry mean she was hurt? In pain? The second cry had sounded closer. That must have meant she was still flying, right?
Caleb turned in circles, wishing he could see better, but he was caught in a small sliver of ground between the canyon wall and the running wash. The water flowed on one side; sheer rock rose on the other. How the hell was he even going to get out?
Where was she?
He heard a rush of wind overhead and looked up. Silhouetted against the night sky was a raptor who wheeled around, suddenly diving with frightening speed straight toward him. He backed up, his heart racing. “Jena?”
It shrieked a high, ear-splitting noise that echoed off the rocks. Suddenly, the hawk’s wings spread, tilting up as the talons reached down. As if he was watching slow motion, he saw it. The watery shimmer that enveloped the bird as its legs lengthened and its wings thinned. Feathers transformed into smooth skin and wild brown hair as she reached the ground, crouching down in a feral pose for a moment before she looked up and ran toward him.
Completely naked. Utterly wild. Foreign and magic and beautiful. Caleb’s heart wasn’t racing in fear anymore. Jena’s eyes were still lit gold when she ran toward him.
“Are you hurt?” Her voice was hoarse and frantic. Her eyes raced over his body.
He held out his arms. “I’m fine. Are you?”
She didn’t speak, running quivering hands over his shoulders, inspecting the tears in this shirt where the lion’s claws had pierced. Touching. His skin came alive. His sight. His hearing. Every one of his senses careened to life. Jena was safe. He was alive. The adrenaline surged through him and he grabbed her, lifting her up. Jena wrapped her legs around his waist and clutched at his hair. A low, rough sound escaped her throat, almost like a cry.
“It’s okay,” he tried to sooth her. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”
Her heart raced and her breath came in frantic gasps until Caleb put a hand on her cheek. Then she stilled. He ran his fingers over her jaw, trailing through her hair, then down. “Are you okay?” She gave a slight nod. “We’re safe, Jena. We’re safe.” His hand slid down her spine as she arched into him. Over the round swells of her hips, teasing the sensitive crease between her bottom and the back of her thigh.
The rough sound came again. It was the same sound she’d made when he’d kissed her the first time months before. Need. Desire. His hand gripped, pressing her closer. He wanted… oh, how he wanted her. In that moment, it was the only thought in his mind.
“Do you know?” he whispered. “Do you know what you do to me?”
Her wild eyes met his; Caleb was pinned beneath her stare. Jena’s hands loosened their grip in his hair and slid down, digging into his shoulders, causing him to wince. She didn’t notice. Her eyes were foreign and predatory. She looked as if she were still hunting.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jena’s head tilted to the side when she heard him hiss. He was uninjured save for the marks on his shoulders. Her fingers trailed over them in a quick swipe as he grunted and tensed. Then she leaned forward and ran her nose along his neck, from his collar, up the side of his neck, to his throat, where she took a deep breath.
He smelled like sand and rain. He was alive beneath her, and the predator in her wanted him.
She pulled at the hair at the back of Caleb’s neck and tugged him toward her. Their mouths crashed together as he stumbled. Then Caleb kneeled down and she straddled his legs, pushing the torn shirt from his shoulders, desperate to feel his skin hot beneath her hands. His arms wrapped around her back and his fingers dug in possessively. She would see bruises in the morning. His hand twisted in her hair and she gasped, pulling away from his mouth as she bowed back. He licked down her chest until he latched onto the tip of one small breast and sucked. Sensation long forgotten careened through her. He released her and went after the other, interspersing kisses with teasing licks and tiny bites. She moaned and arched into him, but soon pulled his mouth back to hers, tugging at his clothes, scrambling to feel his skin.
More! Her instincts screamed. She had to have him.
Caleb pulled one arm away from her and shook off his shirt. His chest was hot against hers, burning up in the cool desert night. She fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, finally getting them loose enough to s
hove down his hips. He stood and turned, pressing Jena into the cool rock wall, running desperate fingers between her legs before he pulled away, poised at her center.
She stilled, meeting his eyes as he slid into her. They were open, locked on hers in a way that made her heart stutter. Then Caleb sank to the hilt and groaned, burying his face in her neck as she held him close. Their hearts beat together before he began to move. She held on, surging with him as he thrust.
It was hard and frantic. Her back scraped against the rocks, though Caleb did his best to hold her. His hands would be bloodied from it. She clung to him, her nails digging into the flesh on his shoulders, but he didn’t flinch. Her pleasure began to mount. He moved faster. Harder.
Caleb pulled his head back and caught her eyes again, holding her captive with a look as he drove them toward the edge. Her breath caught. Held. Suddenly, Jena was hurtling toward climax in a swift, heart-stopping dive. Caleb fell to his knees, holding on to her as she threw her head back and cried into the black desert. Then his body tensed and she pulled him close, pressing them skin to skin as he shuddered in release.
“Jena, Jena, Jena,” he whispered against her neck. She was shivering, her body racked with tremors. Caleb held her gently, stroking her bare skin while his own prickled in the cool night air. She stretched up, luxuriating in the pleasure of the fine hair on his chest brushing over her sensitive breasts. She could feel his heart pounding, his release at the juncture of her thighs…
Jena froze.
Oh shit.
“Jena?” He sounded drowsy. “Are you okay?”
She scrambled away from him, and his head jerked up. “Jena?”
“Shit!” She looked around in panic.
“Are you okay?” His voice was growing in alarm. “Did I hurt you?”