Brooke, Leah - Panthers' Prey [Black Panthers 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Leah Brooke

  “Oh, God. Shh. Be still. Just let me hold you.”

  Breathing in the scent of him, the scent of male and woods, and warmed by the heat of his naked body, she turned her head to look for James.

  “James! Oh, Marc. They shot him.”

  Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she pushed against his chest and scrambled out of his arms and toward James, who now sat naked in one of the deck chairs, holding his head.

  Rushing over, she knelt in front of him, sucking in a breath at the trail of blood coming from his temple.

  “Oh, God, James. You’re hurt. He shot you in the head. We’ve got to get you to a hospital.” She looked up as Marc cursed and hurried over, tilting his friend’s head back. “Marc, do something.”

  Marc cursed violently, the thread of fear evident. “James, what the fuck? Damn it, if you fucking die on me, I’m going to kill you.”

  Pushing the fear back, she inspected James’s forehead with Marc, using the sleeve of her black sweatshirt to dab away most of the blood. “We’ve got to get him to the hospital. Look at all the blood.”

  Pushing Marc’s hand away, James reached for her.

  “I’m okay. He just grazed me. Come here.”

  Marc held his hand out, preventing James from taking her into his arms. Gripping his arms, he lifted an equally naked James to his feet, steadying him when he swayed.

  “Let’s get you inside so I can take a look at that. It’s a wonder you haven’t passed out. That must hurt like a bitch.”

  He half carried James into the house and eased him into a kitchen chair.

  “Bailey, there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom closet. Get it for me.”

  Rushing to do his bidding, Bailey rolled the shoulder she’d pulled, biting her lip to hold back a cry of pain, and hurried to the bathroom. Finding the box on the shelf in the closet, she grabbed it and raced back to the kitchen.

  Her hands shook so badly that when she opened it, half the contents spilled out onto the kitchen floor.

  James reached for her hand before she could clean it up.

  “Calm down, Bailey. Christ, you’re as white as a sheet.”

  Marc tossed everything back into the kit and rummaged through it for a bottle and some prepackaged gauze.

  James closed his fingers around hers and squeezed, his pain-filled smile bringing a lump to her throat. “Easy, baby. I’m not going anywhere, especially now that I’ve found my mate.”

  He winked and grinned, grimacing when Marc started to wipe the blood away with the gauze.

  Bailey shuddered, swearing she could feel his pain.

  “Damn it, James. You need to go to the hospital.”

  “No.” Reaching out to cup her cheek, he winced when Marc dabbed gauze drenched with something against his head and held it there.

  “We can’t explain how we were there and then two panthers were. We have to be here, and when the police come, tell them we were here all night.”

  Laying her hand on his chest, she looked up at Marc.

  “Marc, tell him. Make him go to the hospital.”

  Marc and James shared a look before Marc resumed cleaning James’s wound.

  “He’s right. There’s no way to explain away the panthers they saw. What the hell were they doing there?”

  James nodded and winced again. “Hopefully, they took off and no explanation will be necessary, but if they got caught and started talking…”

  Bailey laid her hand on his chest. “But you need—”

  “No, Bailey.” He pushed Marc’s hand away and glanced down at himself, frowning at the blood on his chest. “Where the hell did this come from? I feel another kind of pain. Not mine. What the hell?”

  Marc paused and cursed, checking for another injury. “I’m hurting, too, and I wasn’t even shot. Now that we share Bailey, maybe we feel each other’s pain.”

  Bailey snatched her hand away and held up her sleeve, the black material making it impossible to see the blood. “Sorry, I wiped your forehead with my sleeve.”

  Marc blew out a breath, his relief evident. “Okay. As long as you’re not hurt.” He bandaged James’s head, his hands steady, but his eyes filled with concern.

  Not wanting to bother him about pulling her shoulder, she nodded. A hot shower would take care of it anyway.

  Marc finished up and sighed.

  “You got lucky. Hell, he could have blown your fucking brains out. What the hell happened? Tell me on the way to the shower. You’ve got to get cleaned up before the cops get here.”

  With a wave, James headed toward the back of the house while Marc cleaned up the supplies and closed the box.

  Marc watched as James staggered through the doorway and pointed after him, the concern in his eyes still evident.

  “Go with him. I’ll be there in a minute in case he gets dizzy.”

  Bailey nodded and started after James, scared now that he would fall and hurt himself even more. Pausing at the doorway, she took a shuddering breath, shocked at the tears that stung her eyes, and had to swallow the lump in her throat before speaking.

  “Marc?”

  He turned with a bottle of aspirin in his hand, his expression grim, his eyes shuttered.

  “What is it, Bailey?”

  She took another breath and blew it out slowly, alarmed when even more tears fell. “Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come along. I thought for sure they were going to kill him. I can’t believe it. You’re really shape-shifters.”

  She couldn’t hide the emotion in her voice—didn’t even try. She loved James and somehow had to figure out a way to make a life with him. Thinking him dead had been like a knife to her heart, making her realize just how much she loved him.

  He’d been right all along. She had already accepted him as her mate. Now, she just had to come to terms with it.

  Something flashed in Marc’s eyes, but disappeared before she could interpret it. “You’re welcome.” He handed her the bottle. “Go look after James. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  She started out of the room again, anxious to get to James, but turned back. She couldn’t get the image of Marc leaping between her and the man with the gun. Her fear that he would be shot had frozen her in place and the anguish that she would lose both of them was a blow to her that staggered her.

  She loved them even more than she’d suspected, and the thought of losing either one of them was more than she could bear.

  She’d done it.. She’d given her heart to them without even meaning to.

  Marc’s eyes sharpened, making her look away. She couldn’t face him until she came to grips with the strength of her feelings.

  “Marc, what were you doing there?”

  Shrugging, he turned away. “I went out for a run in the woods. I was only about a mile away when I heard them.”

  “Do you think they burned down my bar?”

  “No. I would have smelled the smoke from here. I think the cops scared them off before they had the chance, or hopefully, they just took off. We’ll go out there as soon as the cops leave and hose the gas off.”

  He looked different, his features harder than ever and a look in his eyes she didn’t understand. Standing naked in the middle of his kitchen, he looked intimidating as hell, but somehow vulnerable, which made no sense at all.

  Hearing the shower running, she wanted to get to James, but something in Marc’s expression worried her.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Marc sighed. “Other than having a hardheaded mate, a best friend who just got shot in the head and who could have died if the bullet had gone an inch to the left, men trying to burn down my mate’s bar, and a cop who’s already suspicious because of the panther sightings around here and who poses a threat to my entire pack, no. Not a thing. Go see to James while I get some clothes on.”

  * * * *

  Marc waited until Bailey walked away and blew out a breath.

  Something was going on, and he hated like hell not h
aving a clue as to what it was. Too many scents in the woods, the sour smell of the men who’d attacked Bailey, that of Brown, and several others he couldn’t identify.

  He had to figure out what the hell was going on and why these people seemed so intent on getting to Bailey.

  Now that the danger had passed, he couldn’t stop shaking. He doubted that he’d ever sleep again and already felt the loss of not having Bailey where he could see her.

  He held his breath and let it out slowly, but it did nothing to ease the torment still raging inside him.

  Seeing a gun pointed at his mate had been the most horrifying moment of his life, and one that he knew he wouldn’t recover from anytime soon.

  Shaking off the image that kept playing over and over in his mind, he went down the hall to the master bedroom, pausing outside the hall bathroom to listen to Bailey and James argue.

  “It’s cold with the damned door open, Bailey. Either get in or shut the door. I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

  “What if you fall?”

  “I’m not going to fall. I’m going to freeze. Why don’t you come in here and keep me warm?”

  “James, you could have been killed. I want you to promise me that you’ll never do anything like that again.”

  “Sure, honey. The next time someone tries to burn us to the ground, I’ll just stay in bed. Maybe if I just yell out the window they’ll go away.”

  “I sense sarcasm.”

  “Do you? Imagine that. Now get undressed and get in here with me or I’ll drag you in here clothes and all.”

  Feeling like an interloper, Marc continued down the hall to his bedroom and threw on the clothes he’d stripped off before going for his run.

  He hadn’t told Bailey everything. He hadn’t told her that he’d needed to shift and run off the incredible hunger for her. No matter how much he had her, he couldn’t ease his torment.

  Each time he took her only made him hungry for more.

  While running through the woods, he’d called himself all kinds of a fool for pushing away the one thing he wanted the most, and worried that he’d never recover the ground he’d lost with her in pushing her away.

  He only knew he had to try.

  He’d changed direction and was running toward town with the intention of doing just that when he’d smelled gasoline and heard the voices of the men and their drunken bantering.

  Knowing it came from the direction of her building, he’d raced ahead, his fear held back by the knowledge that James was with her. He’d broken free of the tree line just as the man holding the gun shot James. He’d already caught Bailey’s scent and watched in horror as she’d run to stand between the gun and James.

  He took another deep breath and allowed a small smile as he listened to her lecturing James.

  The love and worry in her tone couldn’t be mistaken.

  Admitting to himself that he’d made mistakes with her didn’t come easily for him. His stubbornness and determination had almost made him turn his back on the woman he had a strong suspicion he’d already begun to love.

  He’d already made the decision to accept her as his mate, a woman to take as his own, but seeing her with a gun pointed at her had made him see the truth.

  The enormity of what he felt for her hit him hard.

  He’d fought his attraction for her so hard that he’d fallen in love with her without even realizing it. He needed to talk to her and make some plans for the future, but right now, he had other responsibilities.

  His mate was scared and worried, and his best friend was hurt. Catching a sound he’d been listening for, he swung the door to the bathroom open, smiling faintly at Bailey through the steam.

  “I hear a car coming. My guess is that it’s Brown.” At her worried frown, he smiled reassuringly, determined to protect her in all ways. “It’ll be okay, honey.”

  James shoved the shower curtain aside and reached for a towel. After wrapping it around his waist, he dropped a kiss on Bailey’s forehead.

  “Go with Marc and try to look like you’ve been here all night. I’ll get dressed and be right out.”

  Unable to resist, Marc pulled a twig from her hair as he led her down the hall and cuddled her closer, loving the feel of her softness against him.

  “You should have taken a shower with James, honey.”

  When Bailey flinched, he thought at first she didn’t want him to touch her now that she and James had gotten closer, but when she cried out, he realized he’d somehow hurt her.

  “Bailey? What is it? What’s wrong?” A cold knot formed in his stomach when she grimaced and rolled her shoulder.

  “It’s nothing. I think I just pulled it when I was trying to hold on to you.”

  Tilting her head back, he frowned at her paleness, which he’d blamed on fear after the events of the last hour.

  Now he wasn’t so sure.

  He kept his hands gentle, turning her toward the light and started to raise her shirt.

  “Let me see. I can give you a rubdown—son of a fucking bitch!”

  Everything inside him screamed in protest, but he fought not to scare his mate.

  Bailey gasped at the pain that went through her shoulder when he raised her shirt, sending an answering jolt of pain through him.

  “What? Put it down. It hurts when you pull it. I’ll just take a shower—”

  A growl escaped before he could prevent it, the rage of his mate being hurt almost more than he could bear.

  “I should have ripped his fucking throat out when I had the chance. No, honey. Stay still. We’ve got to get you to the hospital.”

  He forced himself to speak calmly, when every instinct inside him made him want to roar his rage.

  She turned to him, the fear in her eyes almost bringing him to his knees. “What is it?”

  James appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on? The cops are at the door.”

  Marc forced a smile. The trust in Bailey’s eyes made him feel invincible, and the depth of his responsibility to her warmed him from deep within. She was his and he would care for her. Always.

  Injecting a calm in his voice he was far from feeling, he couldn’t quite keep the anger and dread from his tone.

  “Bailey’s been shot.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Looking away from the police officer, Bailey hid a wince and put a hand to her throat, doing her best to look shocked.

  “They really tried to burn down my bar? Oh, God! Did you catch them?”

  Officer Brown eyed all three of them, shooting a glance at the other straight-faced officer, the one he’d introduced as Officer Cannon, before turning back. The suspicion in his gaze sharpened, his lips thinning as he looked down at his pad of paper.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but Cannon spoke first.

  “We caught one of them. Don’t know who the others were, and the one we caught said he was just passing by. Said he was a witness to the whole thing. Nothing more. He said that you and Mr. Archer were there, and then the panther showed up, tried to attack him, and carried you away. They also said that Mr. Archer ran into the woods and disappeared.”

  Marc kept his arm around her waist in what she hoped appeared to be a loving gesture, when in reality, it gave her the support she needed to remain on her feet.

  “Interesting.”

  She let her eyes go wide.

  “A panther carried me away? You’re kidding, right?”

  Marc squeezed her waist, his eyes full of concern.

  “Honey, sit down. You’re shaking. Don’t worry about your bar. We’ll take care of it.”

  Grateful that he’d given an excuse for her trembling, she automatically reached back for James’s hand from where he sat on the sofa and immediately regretted it when pain shot up her shoulder.

  The tension coming from both Marc and James could be cut with a knife, their rage and fear washing over her in waves that made her shake even harder.

  Marc stepped between her and the policemen, t
hreading his fingers through her hair, and bent low to touch his forehead to hers, keeping his voice at a barely audible whisper.

  “Bailey, I don’t care what they know. We’ve got to get you to the hosp—”

  “No. I don’t want to be responsible for—”

  “Is something wrong, Miss Knox?” The cold suspicion in Officer Brown’s tone put her back up, and she found she wanted nothing more than to protect both Marc and James.

  Warmed by the concern in Marc’s eyes, she smiled and touched his chest before she took a seat on the sofa next to James. Unsurprised that Marc lowered himself gracefully to the empty spot on her other side, she lifted her gaze, meeting Brown’s.

  “Of course something’s wrong. These lunatics were trying to burn down my place. It’s obvious they’re on drugs or something. They keep coming into my bar and causing trouble. Now they’re seeing things.”

  Officer Brown’s brow went up. “How do you know these are the same guys?”

  Marc squeezed her hand in warning, eyeing the officer coldly.

  “We just assumed it’s the same men who’ve been coming in the bar causing trouble. I heard that they’re related to the man who owns the bar down the street, you know, the one where fights break out every night? The guy who attacked her in the woods that night is related to the owner of that bar, too. Have you checked into that?”

  James sat forward, wrapping his arm around Bailey and gently pulling her closer to him.

  “What the hell kind of town is this when a woman can’t even be safe in her own home?”

  Brown looked up, his eyes full of hostility.

  “Don’t tell me how to do my job.”

  Bailey resisted James’s effort to pull her closer, not wanting to get blood on him, which the policeman would see. She didn’t lean back on the sofa either, hoping the sweatshirt she wore would absorb any blood that still ran from it.

  Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as she’d thought a gunshot wound would hurt.

  The adrenaline surge contributed quite a bit to her shaking, and she had trouble focusing on the steady stream of questions from both officers.