Instead, he stood right next to Jason.
“Hey, man, care if I take a seat here?” He indicated the stool beside Jason.
Jason moved to open his mouth in protest, but the guy had already plopped himself down and was making himself comfortable.
“Bourbon,” he said to the bartender, and then turned his grey eyes to Jason. “I’ve seen you around before. Do you come here often?”
Jason stifled a smile. It sounded like some lame pickup line, but he was able to keep a straight face. He gave a shrug. “Only when I can.”
The man nodded, then turned and extended his hand. “The name’s Davis Miller,” he said. Jason hesitated before giving in to the man’s handshake. His palm was sweaty. So was his brow. He looked nervous and smelled of fear.
“I’m Jason,” he answered. He didn’t seem to fit the profile of a hunter, but then again, no one really did.
The man gave a nervous smile and tried to spark up a conversation.
“So…you from around here?”
Jason rolled his eyes, and then turned to the man with a slight glare. “Are you trying to hit on me, because if you are, I think there’s a nice gay club a few blocks down the street.” Jason leered at him. “I don’t swing that way.”
Davis stammered as he tried to come up with a response to that, but he faltered. Jason slid off the barstool. He brought his half finished bottle of beer with him. He didn’t have time to mess with the guy, and if Davis was what he thought, he really didn’t want to mess with him.
He headed for the exit.
He had more important things on his mind, like finding out what was keeping Rose. An uneasy feeling settled into the pit of his stomach as he crossed the parking lot to his Honda Interceptor. He finished the bottle of beer in a few gulps and tossed the bottle against the side of the building, where it smashed into a thousand glittering pieces.
He would try her apartment first. If she wasn’t there, then he would head home. Something just wasn’t right, and he wasn’t going to sit around in a bar chatting it up with some asshole if Rose was in danger.
Jason climbed on the bike and started the engine. He revved it several times just to hear the roar, just so it would drown out the bad thoughts. He squealed out of his parking place and out of the lot. Tires smoked on the pavement as he left tracks behind.
He only hoped this troubled feeling would go away.
* * *
Rose sat on the edge of the bathtub. She was in incredible pain. It hurt to move. Quickly, she leaned forward as a wave of nausea overcame her. She felt the bile rise in her throat, and she gagged. She made it to the toilet and allowed the vomit to leave her. After a moment or two of retching, she pulled back and wiped her mouth with the sleeve of her ruined shirt.
Rose clenched her teeth against the pain as she moved to strip the bloodstained T-shirt off, taking special care when it came to the wounded shoulder. She let the bloody shirt fall carelessly to the bathroom floor.
Once the cloth was away from her body, she could see the wound. It had healed and the flesh was whole over the entrance wound. Yet the bullet was still in there, lodged into the muscle tissue. She let out a deep breath. She had no other choice.
Carefully, she brought herself to her feet and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She paused and turned to face the sink.
That can’t be me, she thought as she stared at the pale, ghostly image in the mirror. She blinked her wide blue eyes slowly.
Blood covered her chest and bare breasts. The splotches dotted around the wound at her shoulder. It was on her cheek and thick in her dark hair. Rose continued to stare at herself. Her chest heaved with labored, suddenly frantic breaths.
The wound screeched with pain with every intake. It was still red, despite the flesh that had grown over it. It was barely even a scar now. She grimaced, and her reflection became menacing. The wolf knew what she had to do.
The wound that grazed her side was already healed. There was no more pain from it. She glanced down. It would probably leave a temporary scar that would fade in time.
She turned away from the reflection and winced again as she stumbled down the hallway and into the kitchen. Not bothering to turn on the light, Rose quickly found what she was looking for, a small, yet sharp kitchen knife.
Somehow, without clearly remembering how she did it, Rose made it back to the bathroom. She leaned against the sink and looked up at the mirror. She scowled at the reflection she saw there.
It was time to get the bullet out.
Rose took in a deep breath and held it. She pressed the sharpened tip of the knife into the wound. Fresh blood began to trickle down her shoulder as she reopened it. She clenched her teeth in pain. She took another hard breath.
She gripped the porcelain sink basin tightly with one hand, so tightly she could hear it crack under the pressure. Rose dug the knife further into the wound and felt the bullet give. She closed her eyes tightly as she dug her forefinger and thumb into the wound and pulled the fresh wound apart. It hurt so much. She sucked in a shaking breath. She had to feel around, but soon she found it. Her fingers closed around the bullet and pulled.
It was out.
Rose stared at the bloody bullet she now held between her fingers. She waited for the pain to subside. When it had passed to a bearable minimum, she leaned forward, rinsed it in the sink and held it up to the light.
Her suspicions had been confirmed. It was silver. It fell from her fingers and dropped into the sink. It clanked loudly against the hard surface of the basin.
Rose suddenly felt very weak. The pain had dulled, but she still had lost a lot of blood, and the shift earlier tonight had weakened her. Slowly, she washed the blood from her hands and face. She watched the red-tinged water swirl around in the sink around the silver bullet.
She pulled on a thin white shirt that hung behind the bathroom door. She made it into the bedroom, having maneuvered carefully through the darkness. She met the bed with a groan and fell back against the pillows.
Her thoughts race as she thought back to her first meeting with Marcus. She should never have listened to him. She regretted not trusting her instincts earlier. And look where she was now. There was nothing she could do to change what happened. What’s done was done.
Blackness began to surround her, and Rose was out before she could think on anything else.
Chapter Three
The crotch rocket roared down the highway at speeds that would’ve rivaled the Indy Speedway motorists. He accelerated and pushed the bike harder. The lights of the city loomed ahead of him and he knew upon entering the city limits he would have to cut back on his speed. Until then, Jason would take advantage of it.
He found his thoughts drifting away. He could hardly focus on the road. He kept thinking back to earlier that week.
What if their suspicions had been right? What if that detective asshole was actually a hunter? Deep in his heart, Jason had hoped that they were wrong.
He'd been a fool to leave Rose alone. Hunters were a real threat, and he did not trust this guy. It seemed paranoid, but he had to keep her safe.
Determination set within him. He wasn’t about to let anything happen to the woman he loved. He had made a vow that nothing like this would ever hurt her. He tried to keep that promise.
The road ahead became more congested with traffic, and Jason reluctantly slowed his vehicle down. It was probably a good thing. He had been in the city limits for five minutes and hadn’t realized it. He wouldn’t do well at all if the cops decided to pull him over.
Jason made his way through the streets until he reached her apartment building. The first thing he noticed was that her silver Mustang GT wasn't in the parking lot. Not a good sign. Nevertheless, just in case, he climbed the several flights of stairs to her apartment. His keys jingled as he brought them out of his pocket.
As Jason slipped the key inside the lock, he mentally prepared himself for the worst. The door swung open and he reached for the l
ight switch. Rose’s apartment was filled with sudden harsh light. He stepped inside the front room carefully and slowly. Everything looked about the same, perhaps a little untidy, but that was just how she was.
Jason sniffed the air and caught the lingering scent of her perfume. She had been here, but it had been a while ago.
With a disappointed sigh, he took it upon himself to search the rest of the house. It didn’t hurt to be extra sure. The kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom were all empty as well.
Where could she be? He left the apartment, securing the door behind him. The only logical place that entered his mind was his cabin out in the country…
He was tempted to take out his phone and call her again, but he had left her three voice mail messages already. He knew she would’ve returned them by now if her phone was nearby.
Jason walked down the stairs and back to his bike. Before gunning the engine however, he took one long look around him. He felt as if someone had their eyes on him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
He narrowed his eyes as he turned to look around. There was nothing out of the ordinary. He sighed and turned the bike on. Jason revved it a few times and shot out of the parking lot. He was determined to find Rose, even if it meant he had to drive all night.
He pushed the accelerator and gained speed as he left the city. His frustrations continued to grow as he accelerated his bike well past the speed limit. Once out of the city limits, he was well on his way home.
All he cared about now was finding Rose and making sure she was all right. He could not shake the looming feeling that something had happened to her. He leaned his head forward. The wind rushed past him and tangled his long hair even more.
“Please, God, don’t let anything happen to her… Let her be all right,” he mumbled under his breath. He didn’t know which god, if any, would answer his plea, but he hoped it would be taken care of soon. He didn’t pray often, only when circumstances warranted it. He didn’t want to lose her.
The road back home seemed strangely long. Even at the speed Jason traveled, it seemed to take longer than usual to get back. He couldn’t get to her fast enough.
A dark blue luxury sedan suddenly cut him off. It swerved into the path of Jason’s bike. Jason cut a sharp turn and swerved to avoid a collision. He laid an inch of rubber on the pavement as he hit the brakes and came to a stop.
“Mother fucker!” he yelled. He shut down the bike and climbed off. The driver stepped out of the sedan.
The man was dressed really first-class in clean blue jeans, a crisp white shirt that looked practically new, and a leather jacket. He didn’t look very old, possibly mid-twenties at the very oldest. He looked like the type of guy that could be a swell friend. There was only one problem with him.
It was Davis, the jackass from the bar earlier tonight.
Fuck, not this guy again, Jason thought with a groan of annoyance. He balled his hands into fists and approached him.
“Who the hell are you and why the fuck are you following me!?”
There was no answer from the young man, at first. He took one step forward, hands in his jacket. There was a smug grin on his face as he began to speak.
“Ah, sorry about that. I was just curious as to where you were going this late, and in such a hurry. So I followed. Nothing wrong with wanting to know, right? Got a date or something you don’t want to be late for?” His tone was sarcastic. He was lying.
Jason rolled his eyes and forced a tight-lipped smile.
“I was heading home, not that it’s any of your business. I was making good time and I want to keep it that way. So if you don’t mind—”
Jason brushed him off and turned toward his bike. He was just about to climb back on, start it up and leave Davis in the smoke of his squealing tires when the other man started to laugh. Jason stopped in his tracks and turned to stare at him.
He saw the quick flash of what looked like an official police badge. It looked convincing, but it had to be phony. Jason’s mind flashed back to what Rose had gone through with Marcus a few weeks back, and he narrowed his eyes at the young man.
His suspicions about Davis seemed to be right on the mark. This guy wasn’t who he appeared to be. He had to be a hunter.
Davis’ voice was arrogant as he started to speak, but Jason detected a slight hint of the fear-scent. He wasn’t so sure of himself. “Jason, I’ll have you know I am a de—”
Jason cut him off before he could get the word “detective” out of his mouth.
“You’re what? A dick? You got that right.” Jason moved away from his bike and started toward the man again. “That badge is a fake. You’re probably not even affiliated with any of the police stations here. Hell, you’re probably not even from around here.”
A funny look spread across Davis’ face, as if he hadn’t thought any of that would’ve made a difference. He stumbled to say something.
“Um well…err…I'm a private detective…key word is private.” Though he tried to speak with assurance, his voice lacked self-confidence. It trembled. Jason smirked as he continued forward. He began to speak in a low voice.
“Davis, I may be young, but I’m not stupid. I can see through your costume, and I know what you are. I know your type. What kind of game are you playing?”
Beads of sweat dotted Davis' forehead and his eyes darted back and forth. Jason lifted his eyebrow.
“Are you a hunter?” he asked. He enjoyed the terrified look that came over Davis’ face. The young man had his back to the backdoor of his car. The truth was out.
Davis fumbled as he tried to find the right words to say. When words didn’t suffice, he reached inside his leather jacket. He removed a law enforcement type Beretta handgun. The hand that held it shook terribly.
Fuck, I was right. He managed to keep his face calm, despite the fact a gun was aimed at him. He swallowed hard.
“Let me guess…you’re packing silver bullets in that?” He spoke with more confidence than he really felt. He stood his ground.
Davis nodded. He still had a nervous gleam in his eyes and his hands still shook. He aimed at Jason’s chest.
“Silver bullets kill werewolves.” Davis finally got out. “Everyone knows that.”
Jason laughed loudly and then froze. “Funny.” He stared into Davis’ eyes. He spoke so low it had a growl to it.
“There are more of you guys out there, I know. One of you…hunters…has been bothering my girlfriend. Well, let me tell you something, buddy.” Jason took one menacing step forward. “A bullet—silver or not—will kill anything. You don’t have a single clue what you’re trying to do, and I suggest you and your pals back off and leave us alone.”
Jason took another step toward him. He threatened him with clenched fists. Davis’ finger squeezed the trigger, suddenly, and the gun fired.
The sound of it was loud, deafening. Jason braced himself for the fatal shot, but Davis had missed. His hands shook too much to aim properly. It was probably the only good luck Jason would have.
“Your aim is off…badly,” Jason growled angrily. Davis aimed the gun to fire once more.
In a blurry flash, Jason made his move. He grabbed the Beretta in one swift motion and tossed it aside. It slid across the asphalt and into the ditch.
Jason wished there hadn’t been much of a struggle, but once Davis had been threatened, the young man was swift to react. Jason made a move to grab at the man, but his movement was blocked with a forearm. He was surprised to feel Davis’ fist connect in his stomach. He hadn’t been expecting that. He thought he would have the biggest advantage, being just more than a normal human.
For a moment, Jason was stunned, the air knocked out of him. He doubled over and gasped. He had never had the wind knocked out of him before. Davis scrambled toward the ditch. Jason grabbed the would-be hunter by the ankle. He stumbled and fell.
“You prick!” Jason straightened and grabbed the man roughly by the back of his shirt. Davis tried to use a self-defense move to
remove Jason’s grip, but he soon found his arms were painfully pulled behind his back.
“Goddamn hunter,” Jason muttered, and with a great deal of his preternatural strength, he shoved the young man back against his car door. He released him.
“I’m tired of all your fucking bullshit!” he shouted and grabbed Davis by the front of the shirt.
His eyes were wide and frightened. The back of his head met with the glass. It caused quite an indention in the driver’s side. Jason gripped him firmly by the forehead and thrust his head back again. And again. The glass shattered with a crash and left sparkling debris on the road.
Blood dripped from the back of Davis’ head, and he let out something akin to a whimper. Disgusted, Jason grabbed him a final time. He hesitated little in turning him and throwing him headfirst through the gaping hole where the glass had once been. The force was strong enough to leave the young man crippled. He didn’t move.
Jason stood back and panted heavily. He stared at the non-moving mass of Davis as his back end and legs stuck out of the sedan’s window. He was out cold, possibly dead. Jason didn’t really care.
“My win,” he growled and turned. He shook off the particles of glass from his leather jacket. He returned to his bike, revved it up and started once more down the road, tires squealing.
He prayed for no more interruptions. His own inner worries caused him to push the bike much faster than he had previously been going. The thought of Rose in danger, of her hurt was enough for him to almost turn the bike around and tear that hapless son of a bitch limb from limb. He greatly wanted to do that, but he pushed his blood lust out of his mind. He wouldn’t be able to help Rose if he paused to do that. He had wasted enough time already, and he tried to keep the uncertainty from rising within him yet again.
There had better not be any more interruptions, he thought again. The road to his cabin was just up ahead. From the very end of the long driveway, he could see a light on. He hadn’t left one on. Hope surged in him.
Sweet Moon Dreams Page 3
