by Vella Day
“We’ll take an X-ray to be sure, but if you put some ice on it, the swelling will be minimized.” He turned to Drake. “Help her lay back. I want to numb the area before I stitch her up.” He stepped over to a cabinet and took out a needle and a vial.
Drake wrapped his arm around her and lowered her to the table. She had a high pain tolerance, but she’d never tested her level against bullet removal. The doctor’s comment about only stitching her up registered. “You’re going to leave the bullet in me?”
His smile came out gentle. “The bullet has already dissolved. The man who shot you used a special type of projectile. It acts like shrapnel except the small pieces dissolve into bits of poison. To a werewolf, they immobilize him immediately and make him very sick. Humans have an immunity. A higher tolerance to the poison, if you will.”
“I don’t feel very immune right now.” In fact, her stomach ached, and she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking.
His second comment about werewolves registered. When her best friend told her Harvey Couch, the man who raped her mother, was one of them, Chelsea hadn’t really been a believer. She guessed she’d had her head in the sand too long if she didn’t even believe Liz when she’d told her about shifters.
Dr. Deland handed her a glass of water and a pill. “Drink this to counteract the poison. It should help settle your stomach, too.”
Not wanting to vomit all night, she did as he instructed and handed the glass back to him. “Thanks.”
“How’s your head?”
“It hurts.”
He looked at Drake. “Keep a watch on her. If she becomes nauseated, bring her to the emergency room. She might have a concussion from the blows to the head.”
Dear God in Heaven. Her stomach caved and her blood pressure skyrocketed. Here she believed this couldn’t get any worse.
“Now, I’m going to numb the area and stitch you up. You’ll be good as new in a few days.”
That brought some relief, although her face might need more than a couple of days to heal. “Then I can go home and back to work?”
“Yes.”
Her ordeal had been terrible, but knowing there would be no permanent effect helped soothe her. A knock sounded on the door, and Kurt stepped in.
“How is she?” He glanced between her and the doctor.
His concern amazed her. Here his brother had been brutally slain, and he’d taken the time to check on her.
“Give me a sec to suture her, and she’ll be ready to go home.”
Kurt’s expression hardened even more, if that was possible. “She’ll be coming with us. Her place isn’t secure.”
Her body stiffened. Perhaps her friend lucked out and enjoyed the time she spent being with her men after her life had been threatened, but Chelsea had a career. She had clients to deal with and houses to sell. She didn’t want to hole up in someone’s loft apartment and not see the light of day for weeks or months.
One glance at Kurt’s serious face told her it might be wise to keep her opinion to herself until the doctor finished his repair. The voice in her head reminded her that the man who shot her was still at large.
The procedure only took fifteen minutes. The doctor placed a small patch on her arm then thoroughly examined the other cuts and bruises. When he finished, he handed her a short-sleeved green top. “Here you go. Next time, don’t tangle with the Colters.” He smiled. “I’ll have Melanie X-ray you.”
Liz had told her not only about the bad shifters being called Colters, but about the shifters’ ability to communicate telepathically. Either Kurt or Drake had probably told the doctor how much she knew.
Melanie came in with a wheelchair. “Special delivery.”
She had no choice but to comply. Melanie took pictures of both wrists and several shots of her face. “I’ll process these and get them to the doctor. Wait here.”
Alone in the darkened room, the terror returned. She closed her eyes and willed the images away. Mendez had been incredibly strong. Now she knew why. He was a werewolf, too. She touched her wrist and winced. Bruises had popped up on both arms, and touching her face hurt.
The door opened a few minutes later. “You’re good, Ms. Wilson. Nothing is broken.”
Nothing but her belief in the good of man. “Thanks.”
Melanie wheeled her to the reception area where Drake and Kurt waited. They helped her stand on unsteady legs, but all in all, her stomach hurt less and the throbbing in her cheek had waned.
After they stepped outside, Drake took her good arm and escorted her to his car parked behind her Camry. A shot of pure joy filled her at seeing something familiar.
“How did my car get here? I mean, how did you…? My keys were in my purse.” She frowned. When Mendez had dragged her from the brushes, she’d dropped her bag.
Drake placed a hand on her back and heat raced up her spine. “Kurt retrieved your purse near where I found you.”
“I put it in the back of Drake’s car,” Kurt added.
She’d have been lost without it. “Thank you.”
At least she could go home now and not have to depend on anyone. Even though these men might be heroes, and hot ones at that, she didn’t know them well enough to allow them to escort her home.
She held out her palm to Kurt. “I’m truly sorry about your brother. I appreciate everything you have done, but I can see myself home.” She stepped toward Drake’s car to get her purse when Kurt stopped her.
“Sorry, that’s not an option. You need to come with us.”
Her dad used to tease her, saying he should have had a son because girls were too damn stubborn. He was right. She planted her good hand on her hip and faced them. “As much as I appreciate the offer, that is so not going to happen.”
The killer is on the loose. She shook her head to push the thought from her mind.
“You can’t drive with a possible concussion and a wounded arm.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Drake turned her to face him and smiled. “Oh, baby. You really don’t know who you’re dealing with, do you?”
Chapter Two
Drake’s nickname was usually Mr. Cool. If anyone had seen him today, he would have lost that title in a hurry. He’d been standing next to Kurt when he received the call. The sound of the gunshot had reverberated through the phone and nearly stopped his heart. He’d almost shifted on the spot. It had been Kurt who’d kept it together.
Chelsea groaned, and he forced his mind back to the present. What the fuck was wrong with them? Standing on the sidewalk in front of the doctor’s office where anyone could take another shot at her wasn’t smart. Forcing her to do anything wasn’t his style, especially since she’d been through so much, but right now they had to take control. While Mendez might not have known Chelsea’s name when she saw him, rest assured he would learn her identity soon enough.
The killer wasn’t a rocket scientist, but the sign on the front lawn had the name of the realty firm on it, and it wouldn’t be hard to find out who she was.
Drake bet not many women working for that company would fit her description. Damn the woman and her killer long legs. She had luscious breasts, lips he could spend hours kissing, and long auburn hair. Nope, she was one-of-a-kind, but right now she was also a sitting duck.
Her hand slipped off her hip. He waited another few seconds until he calmed, fearing he’d do something he’d regret. He exhaled. Boy, their timing sucked. The moment he’d spotted her at Liz’s Christmas party, he knew she was their mate. She was gorgeous, had a sharp wit, and seemed to love life, but his body told him this was the woman he would spend the rest of his life with. The saving grace was that after the party, Kurt had expressed the same sentiment. Now Drake feared their pursuit of her would have to be put on hold until they took care of Mendez.
The moment Chelsea balked at going with them, Kurt had moved to the end of the walkway, lost in his own thoughts. Drake totally understood.
Once Kurt had located Jeffrey’s GPS phone s
ignal, they’d rushed to the car, and while Drake drove them to the house, Kurt kept redialing. When Jeffrey didn’t answer, his friend had turned inward, refusing to discuss what might have happened. His only words had been to urge Drake to drive faster.
As they neared, only one werewolf life sign registered. Hope sprung inside him until they found Jeffrey dead. Seconds later, he heard Chelsea’s scream and sensed the wolf was outside the house. Drake ran toward the sound.
Even though the fucker had dashed off before he reached him, Drake immediately recognized him. He would have known the funky-eyed Ricardo Mendez anywhere despite his connection to Harvey Couch and his drug smuggling operation.
They both got off one shot each. Mendez missed, but he hadn’t. Drake hoped the stinking Colter suffered a whole lot of pain before he found help.
He refocused. Kurt remained glued to the spot. Hey, Kurt. Why don’t you go back to our place, gather some of our things, and bring them over to Chelsea’s?
His friend glanced between the two of them. She can’t stay at her house. It isn’t safe.
He must not have been listening to her argue. I agree, but we aren’t going to kidnap her like Trax did with Liz. Just pack some stuff and let me handle her.
The fact Kurt put up little resistance was a sure sign he was staggered by his brother’s death. He shrugged and walked over to them. “Chelsea, where do you live?”
The tension in her shoulders seemed to ease, as if she’d won a war. She rattled off her address. Kurt nodded then walked away and hopped in her car. The engine started and he took off.
Chelsea looked over at him. “Where’s he going with my car?”
“Back to our place.”
“Then why did he want to know where I live?”
Nothing seemed to get by her. “Kurt has to take care of something, and then he’ll bring your car back to your house. Once you’re settled, we’ll be on our way.” Although he disliked lying, it was necessary to get her to cooperate.
“I guess you’ll have to drive me home.”
“Yeah.”
She rubbed her face. He admired the way she didn’t complain, because she had to hurt like hell.
“Okay.”
He didn’t like her hesitation, but he understood her concern. Since she appeared a little shaky on those high heels, he placed a hand on her back to guide her into the car. The touch set off his internal alarm. Being this close to her made his body go crazy. He’d been warned the first time a werewolf got near his future mate, he had to fight not to shift. He just needed to keep it together for another few minutes until he wasn’t in the public eye.
Chelsea was quiet on the way to her house and only spoke to give him directions. When they neared her street, she twisted in her seat. “Do you believe Mendez will come after me?” Her voice held more strain than when he’d first reached her. His gut soured.
If he could rub away the hurt, he would. Should he tell her the truth or try to sugarcoat it? He sucked at taking care of someone.
“From what you told me, Mendez basically admitted to ripping out Jeffrey’s throat. He doesn’t need a witness.”
Her breath hitched. “I guess that’s a yes, then. Do I need to go into some kind of witness protection program or anything?” When her breath caught at the end, it was like a knife slicing him.
“That’s only for certain crimes.” He didn’t want to mislead her. “Trax and a few others picked up Jeffrey’s body and cleaned up the mess. The authorities won’t be notified because they won’t know there’s been a crime.” He slowed as he entered her street. “It’s for the best.”
“You can’t cover up a crime.” Her voice squeaked. “That’s not legal. I’m going to call them.”
He inhaled. She was a stubborn one. “You need a few more facts before you do that.”
“I don’t need the cops accusing me of committing a crime.” She huffed and pointed to a one-story, yellow, craftsman-style home with a porch. “That’s my place.”
He pulled the car in front, cut the engine, and rushed over to her side. When he opened her door, he held out his hand to help her up, but she didn’t take it. Oh, boy. This was going to be a long night.
She faced him. “I owe you more than I could ever repay, so thank you, but I really need some downtime.”
“I get it. I’ll walk you to the door.” Then he needed to make sure she understood why calling the cops wasn’t a good idea.
Keeping her head down, she rushed up the walkway. She fumbled in her bag for her key, and when she finally retrieved it and stuck it in the lock, it wouldn’t work.
Her anxiety ate at him. “Let me.” He wanted to check out her house anyway.
He wouldn’t put it past Mendez to know where Chelsea lived already. However, during the walk up her path, he hadn’t detected any werewolves in the vicinity. He pushed open her front door.
She dashed inside and inhaled. “It’s good to be home.” She dropped her purse on the table by the door, kicked off her heels and sighed. She faced him. “Thank you again.”
“I want to look around.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so. Stay here.” His tone must have come out harsh enough, because she didn’t shoot back a retort.
He walked into a bedroom, came out, and passed through the dining room to the kitchen. No one was there, allowing him to push the tension aside. “It’s good. Now we need to talk.”
Her jaw tightened and she winced. “I’m tired. Can we have this discussion another time?”
He felt sorry for her, but she had to know what was at stake, besides her life. If she called the cops, there would be a record of the crime. Any CSI worth his salt would find traces of dried blood and that would be bad.
“Why don’t you take a shower and change, and when you’re done we’ll have our talk.”
She cocked a brow. “I might be an hour.”
“I’ll wait.” It unnerved him that she didn’t trust him, but he totally understood humans. “Let me know if you feel sick.”
He backed up and sat on the sofa. If she thought he’d leave her here unprotected, she was dead wrong.
She held up both palms.
Here it comes.
“How about giving me space tonight, and I’ll fix you breakfast tomorrow morning? We can chat then.”
He cocked a brow. “You’re asking me to spend the night?” He knew she wasn’t, but he wanted to lighten the mood by flirting with her.
Her mouth opened and formed a cute little O. “No. I mean you need to leave and come back tomorrow.”
Drake propped his feet up on her wooden coffee table and wrapped his hand behind his head. “You might have a concussion, and someone needs to watch you. Either I can drag you into the shower and scrub you clean myself before tucking you in, or you can do it yourself. Either way, when you get out of bed in the morning, I’ll be here.” He held up a finger. “That’s after we talk tonight.”
She huffed out a few breaths, clearly looking for something to say that would get him to leave.
“You aren’t going away, are you?” She finally understood his resolve.
“Nope.”
“Fine.” She whipped around and stalked back to her room.
He smiled the moment she locked the door. He was almost tempted to show her locked doors would not keep him out, but for Chelsea’s sake, he’d wait for Kurt. The two of them would decide how best to handle her.
A picture of her strapped to the wall passed through his mind’s eye. His cock knew the best way to handle her. He leaned back and let his imagination go wild. Her tits had been spectacular, so full and supple. Thinking about them got his cock hard, and he was forced to adjust his balls. He sat up. Focus. You’re not here to have sex. That would come later.
The whole premise for being here was because he believed Mendez wouldn’t stop until Chelsea was dead. Christ. First Couch had gone after Liz Wharton, and now Mendez wanted Chelsea out of the way. The sad part was that Chelsea hadn’t
brought any of this on herself.
Less than twenty minutes later, a car pulled in front of the house, and Drake shot to his feet. He peeked out the window to make sure it was Kurt. He released his breath.
Carrying two suitcases, one in each hand, Kurt walked up the sidewalk and waited for Drake to open the door for him.
“Welcome.”
Kurt strode in and set the bags down. “How is she doing?”
“Nothing short of dragging her out of the house will make her leave. I’m worried about her and what she might do. She’s been talking about calling the cops.”
“Crap. We need to come up with a plan.”
“What do you propose?”
“If she’s that determined not to budge, then I want to scope out the place and check for possible entry points.”
Drake waved a hand. “I already did that, but feel free to have a go at it yourself.”
Kurt nodded and studied each window. Once done with the living room, he disappeared into the kitchen and returned a minute later. “They could come through the back door, the front entrance, or break the windows. The good news is that it’s a one-bedroom, so there’s not much to watch.”
Perhaps he could ask Trax or Dante to install a surveillance system so they’d be forewarned of a breech, should one occur.
“What did Trax say?” He assumed Kurt had checked to make sure Jeffrey was at peace.
“My brother has been taken of, and the general wants to brief us tomorrow.”
He didn’t want to be at that session. Since he’d failed to kill the bastard, the general would want to know why. Trax and Dante had captured Couch, but his men had broken him out of jail. That still stung.
“You go. I need to keep a watch over Chelsea.” He wasn’t convinced that Kurt was in the right frame of mind to focus on her well-being.
He almost saw Kurt’s lips lift, but it was so fast, he figured he imagined it. He wanted to say something to console his best friend about his loss, but words would never be enough. Jeffrey had been his friend, too.
The door to Chelsea’s bedroom opened sooner than he expected. She was dressed in a too-large T-shirt, baggie pajama bottoms, and fuzzy pink slippers. Her cheek had turned a deeper shade of purple, and she had a black eye. All fresh from her shower, she couldn’t have looked more adorable if she tried. Her frown warned him she was still struggling with what happened.
