by Lynn Howard
Speaking of smells…
Brax sniffed his armpit, cringed, then turned on the spray. It was time to get the stink and the day off his body.
If only he could get that woman out of his head.
****
Campbell looked in the side mirror of her bike several times before she hit the highway and really opened up the engine. She wanted to make sure those assholes hadn’t followed her.
Their behavior had confused her. She’d expected them to close in on her, trap her, and take her away like all the other women. All they’d done was talk to her. Well. That and take the ass whooping she’d given them. They’d never fought back, only blocked her blows. They were definitely Shifters. There was no way she could’ve missed their glowing eyes. Or their speed. That dude with the ponytail had disarmed her but he hadn’t taken her pistol. Why? Why not steal it from her and use it to persuade her to go with them?
We’re not going to hurt you. That’s what the other big dude said. His hair wasn’t quite as long as the first guy’s, but he was equally covered in tattoos, his eyes were as bright and fierce as the ponytail dude.
Bullshit. Utter and complete bullshit. She’d tracked one of the traffickers into the woods and just happened to run into those three? She’d never believed in coincidence. Not really. But that sure as hell seemed like one big fucking coincidence.
Or maybe they had been the traffickers. Although they had come from a different direction. That didn’t mean they hadn’t split up in hopes of trapping her. Taking her and trying to turn her into one of them.
Yet they’d had the chance and they hadn’t taken it. She might be an adept fighter, but she had no delusions of being able to overpower three Shifters.
Pulling her Yamaha R-1 off the highway, she aimed it for her trailer in Fenton, Missouri. She’d much rather be surrounded by nothing but open fields or even dense forest. But she needed the safety of numbers. The town was smaller than where she’d lived before, but there were enough humans there for her to feel safe.
Shifters rarely wandered into highly populated areas, at least not during the day. Nighttime was always the riskiest. The less people on the street, the easier it was for those sickos to slink around, hide in the shadows, and snatch innocent women off the streets.
Cops thought the missing women were run-aways or simply missing. But Campbell knew the truth.
Her heart squeezed at the thought of her younger sister walking home from her second job at the bar. Campbell should’ve been there. If she’d had any idea of the high risks her sister took walking to her house, she’d have escorted her every night.
Her sister was walking to the same trailer where Campbell was now residing.
Pushing the grief as deep as she could, she used it to fuel her rage and determination. Maybe she couldn’t end the trafficking of women on her own, but she could save a few lives before she lost her own. Make a dent in the problem, even if it was a tiny dent.
And she had no doubts her efforts would end up in her death. That was way better than being sold as a slave to some piece of shit. She’d take herself out before she fell into their hands.
Campbell pulled her bike up to the front of the mobile home. One of the joys of riding was being able to park closer to buildings and businesses. And there was no way any fucker could hide under or in the bike while she was inside somewhere.
The problem with riding was the cold. Even now, as the months closed in on Spring, she had a thin layer beneath her leathers. The extra clothing didn’t make fighting easy, but it was better than freezing her ass off while flying down the highway.
There was one other problem with riding, and he happened to be waiting on the vinyl foyer floor when Campbell stepped inside.
“Hey, Polo,” she cooed to her Rottweiler as she stepped in and locked the door behind her. His little nub wagged until Campbell dropped to her knees to show him some love. “Missed you, too.”
Polo followed her to the kitchen for his nightly snack. She left a feeder full for him, and her neighbor was aware he was there. She’d made sure at least one person nearby knew about him in case she didn’t return someday. The thought of her sweet baby starving to death scared the shit out of her.
But she’d had Polo since before she’d lost her sister. He’d been her constant companion and only friend ever since.
He’d also been her protector and alarm system. More than a few times, she’d reconsidered her mode of transportation so she could take Polo along on her nightly missions. But the bike was faster, less conspicuous. And Polo wasn’t at risk of being eaten by some werewolf.
Fucking werewolves. Had someone told her a year ago that those creatures existed, she would’ve suggested getting mental health.
Now, she was one of the few humans who knew about them, knew what they were capable of, knew what they were doing to human women.
Ignorance had been bliss. That was for sure.
Until her sister had become a victim.
And her body had been found floating down Big River.
Tears burned the back of her eyes as memories flooded her mind. She’d become so lost in images of her sister lying on the gurney, a sheet pulled up to her chin, that it took a few minutes for Campbell to realize Polo was whining and licking her hand.
Protector. Alarm. And therapist.
“I’m fine,” she told Polo, scratching behind his ears before heading for bed.
She was too tired for a shower. She’d take one in the morning. It wasn’t like she’d been rolling around on the forest floor as she’d done in the past when battling a Shifter.
Campbell endured plenty of injuries. She’d been stitched up so many times her arms and legs resembled a fucking baseball. And she’d even had a few broken bones.
Eventually, she’d run out of excuses and scenarios that caused the various injuries and had to visit a different hospital. And come up with alternate identities. It wasn’t like she was accepting or taking pain killers. That shit would dull her senses, something she couldn’t risk.
Another issue her nightly routine had caused was her waning bank account.
Before Caren’s death, she’d had a posh job at an insurance agency. She was the office manager, overseeing close to thirty agents, receptionists, and support staff. She’d always lived minimally, so she’d been able to save most of what she’d earned.
But that had been a year ago. And she was almost broke. She had maybe a few more months before she either had to find a cheaper place than Caren’s mobile home, or get a job.
She didn’t know what the hell she could do for money that wouldn’t hinder her hunting.
And that’s what it was. She was hunting for the assholes responsible for Caren’s death. And if she took out a few extras in the meantime, all the better.
Why had she hesitated to pull the trigger when she’d had that big dude in her sights? She’d never hesitated before.
The first guy. Brax? Was that what the second guy had called him? When she’d kicked him, he hadn’t looked pissed, hadn’t called her names, hadn’t struck back at her. He’d merely stayed on the ground, his glowing eyes wide as a somewhat sexy grin tipped up one side of his mouth.
What the hell had he been smirking about? It was like he was enjoying himself.
If she could ignore the fact the man wasn’t human, she could admit he was…well…sexy.
At five foot nine, Campbell was usually as tall or only slightly shorter than most guys. But he had six inches or more on her. And he was muscular, yet lean. Like a swimmer. She’d never really been into long hair, but he made it work.
She had, however, always been into the rougher, bad boy look. Tattoos peeked out beneath his long-sleeved t-shirt and covered the back of his hands. They crept up his neck from the neckline of his shirt. And each of his ears held several pieces of jewelry.
Where else was pierced?
And why the hell was she thinking about that? She didn’t care how many tattoos or piercings the animal had. T
hat’s all he was – an animal. A beast.
He wasn’t normal, wasn’t human.
Peeling the layers of clothing away, Campbell climbed into her bed, pulling the comforter up to her chin. The sun would be up soon. And Polo would need to be walked.
The aforementioned dog climbed into the bed beside Campbell and sighed heavily, as if happy and relieved his momma was home.
Shit. She forgot to check in with her mom.
Grabbing the phone, she pulled up her mom’s number, then held the phone to her ear.
“Hey, honey,” her mom said, her voice thick with sleep.
“Sorry to wake you. Wanted you to know I’m home and in bed.”
“Any luck tonight?” Mom asked.
Campbell sighed and rolled toward Polo, resting a hand on his neck. “Ran into three of them.”
“They dead?” Mom asked, her voice more alert now.
“No.”
Campbell could hear fabric rustle and pictured her mom getting out of bed and leaving the room so she wouldn’t wake her husband. “What happened? You okay? You need me to come down?”
Mom still lived in West St. Louis County where they’d lived since before Campbell and Caren had been born.
“No. I’m okay. Not a scratch.”
“Then what happened?”
Flopping onto her back, Campbell closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t know. They didn’t attack me.”
“And?”
“I couldn’t kill them for simply being in the woods, mom. They weren’t the same jackasses I was chasing after. I think…I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think they might have been doing the same thing I was.”
“You think they were hunting down the traffickers?” she asked, her tone incredulous.
“They had plenty of opportunities to overpower me. And…shit. They were able to stop me from shooting one of their friends but didn’t bother taking the gun away from me. And they never fought back. And one of the guys…he said something about not being there to hurt me.”
“They’d say anything to get you to trust them,” Mom reminded her. “You know that.”
“I know.”
The line went silent for a few heartbeats. Then mom’s breath hitched over the line. “Please be careful, Camp. I’d rather you come home and let the cops do their job.”
“It’s been a year and they haven’t found a single suspect. They have too many cases. And I need to do this, Mom. I have to.”
“I know, baby. I love you. Get some sleep and call me when you’re walking my grandpup.”
Polo was the closest Campbell’s parents had to a grandchild. And he might be the only one they ever had.
“Love you, too, Mom. Call you tomorrow.”
Campbell ended the call and tossed the phone onto the nightstand. Then she snuggled into Polo and waited for sleep to claim her.
And for some messed up reason, that guy Brax was on her mind as she drifted to sleep.
Then possessed her dreams for the next four hours.
Chapter Two
Campbell stretched then groaned when Polo whined and licked her hand.
“I’m up, honey,” she said.
Barely over four hours of sleep and it was time to take her baby for his morning walk.
“Give me a second, buddy,” she said.
Throwing her legs over the side, she rolled her neck, wincing at the various pops.
She was already in her mid-thirties. How much more strain and lack of sleep could her body take? She’d always stayed in fairly good shape. But she’d had to amp up her workouts and training when she’d made the decision to become a vigilante.
Sliding her legs into a pair of yoga pants, she tugged a sweatshirt over her head and topped it with a hoodie. She tied a pair of sneakers on, then grabbed Polo’s leash. He didn’t really need one; he had always stayed by her side no matter where they were. But there were laws. And she didn’t want any extra attention from her neighbors.
“Alright, honey, let’s go.”
Her eyes felt full of grit behind her sunglasses and she yawned big enough for her jaw to pop. She’d never been one to sleep late or long hours, but this four hour a night shit was getting old. She was feeling old.
She should be in her prime, out looking for a boyfriend, contemplating motherhood. Instead, she was following behind a one-hundred-and-thirty-pound spoiled dog, carrying his massive poop in a plastic baggie.
And planning her next trip into the wooded area of Jefferson County. She’d inventory her ammo when she got back at home so she’d know how much she needed to purchase.
Each time someone looked in her direction, she lowered her head to avoid anyone getting a good look at her face. She wanted to remain invisible, anonymous. Unfortunately, it was hard to stay unseen at her height. Especially with such an intimidating dog at the end of her leash.
Doggy duty over, she turned at the street corner and led Polo through the rows of mobile homes and back to her place.
A rumbling engine caught her attention and Campbell fought the urge to glance over her shoulder to see what was making that noise.
When the vehicle passed beside her, it slowed. And then it pulled into the short driveway next door and stopped.
Campbell hesitated, slowing her steps as her eyes narrowed on the vehicle. It was an older Camaro with fading, flaking black paint. Why would anyone drive a beauty like that and not fully restore it? It was a sacrilege, dammit.
Picking up her step, she urged Polo to move faster when the driver side door opened and a large male stepped out.
No fucking way.
She hadn’t gotten that great of a look at Brax last night in the dark woods, but his height and long hair stood out like a sore thumb. What the hell was he doing here? Her street was a good twenty minutes from where she’d been hunting last night. She’d done that on purpose. She knew their sense of smell was strong and would be able to track her. So she’d made sure to always stay far enough away that she’d have to take the highway to get back home. The scents of all those cars and exhaust would easily cover hers.
Had he followed her home last night? She hadn’t seen any vehicles behind her.
Lowering her head enough for the sides of her hood to cover her face, she rushed past him and up her stairs.
“Hey! Do I know you?” he called after her.
Polo tugged on the leash, stepping behind her and growling as Campbell fumbled with the keys to her place.
“Hey! Ninja lady!”
Ninja lady? Maybe he wasn’t talking to her.
Yep. He was talking to her. Campbell could hear his feet hitting the gravel behind her, getting closer, while Polo’s growl deepened and he took a protective stance behind his momma.
And then Campbell dropped her fucking keys.
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath.
“Are you okay? Is someone after you?”
That brought Campbell up short. She whirled around, prepared to fight, prepared to defend her dog if he lunged for the guy’s throat.
But Brax was standing a few feet away from her steps, his hands held out in front of him to show he wasn’t a threat, concern and anger in his eyes. They weren’t glowing today. They were a pretty green color and were narrowed on her.
“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
“I didn’t find you. I was checking on a…client,” he said, pointing to the trailer beside hers.
“Bullshit.”
His head snapped back in surprise. “What’s bullshit?”
“You don’t have a friend on this street.”
“Hey, Brax,” a woman said tentatively from the porch next door.
Campbell’s head whipped around and she stared at the mousy blonde standing on the wooden deck, a thick sweater wrapped around her shoulders. She had deep shadows under her eyes and she looked too thin. How had Campbell never noticed this woman?
Probably because the frail woman was asleep in bed by the time Ca
mpbell got home each night.
Glancing back at Brax, Campbell shook her head and dipped to grab her keys. Before she could turn to try once more to unlock the door, Brax took another step toward her, his foot landing on the first step.
Polo barked once, his one and only warning.
“I’m not responsible for what Polo will do to you,” Campbell warned. Why the hell hadn’t she brought her gun on her walk?
“Polo? You named your dog after a shirt?”
“What?”
“The shirt. Polo. Or is he named after the sport?”
Campbell tilted her head. Confusion replaced the anger for a split second. He seemed so normal. He seemed like a man. Like any other curious human who asked about her big dog.
“He was named at the shelter. He was there long enough I figured it would be too confusing if I changed it,” she admitted, then wondered what the hell had gotten into her.
Turning her head to look at the woman again, Campbell glanced back at Brax. “What kind of client?”
Brax tilted his head up to the blonde but didn’t say anything.
“He saved me,” the woman said.
Well, that got Campbell’s attention. “What do you mean he saved you?”
The blonde looked around, then down at Brax and shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, pulling her sweater tighter around herself.
“I’ll be in in a minute, Janie,” Brax said, his eyes still on Campbell.
Campbell watched Janie nod, glance at Campbell, then enter her trailer.
“You think you can ask Polo to stop growling at me?” Brax asked.
“What do you want?” Campbell asked, ignoring his request.
“Your name.”
“What?”
“You asked what I want. I want to know your name.”
“Why?” The last thing she wanted or needed was for some animal man to know who she was.
“I’d love to know who kicked my ass,” he said, that sexy crooked grin appearing on his lips.
Campbell huffed out a surprised laugh. Really? That was the first thing that came to his mind? Did he get his ass kissed so seldomly he wanted to jot it down in his diary?
