But if she was truly his mate, how could he not?
He pulled back into traffic, watching the blue dot move on the GPS. First things first. He had to find the Lying Hellcat, get his stuff back, and find out why the hell she’d screwed him over. And then…
He had no fucking clue what he was going to do after that.
Three hours later, Jace was at the entrance to the Shady Pines Campground, scouting the lay of the land. Jesse had texted him less than an hour ago that his phone had come to a stop here. He’d shattered the speed limit at that point, figuring that if any cops tried to stop him, he’d just abandon the car, shift, and take off cross-country. With his phone in his teeth, if he had to.
But he’d gotten lucky—for a change—and made it here with no cops.
He drove past the entrance, checking the place out. It was a big campground, set in the midst of a forest of huge pine trees. The scent hit Jace through the open window, making him homesick for Silverlake Mountain, with its thick dark pine forests. He forced himself to ignore it. He’d be back there soon enough. Right now he had to focus on tracking down the Lying Hellcat.
The campground was a nightmare for reconnaissance. There were a bunch of cabins hidden here and there among the trees, and beyond them Jace caught glimpses of winding trails leading to isolated campsites. She could be right there and he wouldn’t see her. He’d have to go in and see if he could pick up her trail.
He was about to turn the Malibu around when he noticed the roadhouse, complete with neon beer signs in the window. A grim smile began to curve his lips. Another bar. Another place to pick up half-drunk guys. If ‘Darlene’ was working her way across the country stealing transportation, she’d more likely be here than in the campground.
He swung into the roadhouse parking lot and parked the Malibu, collecting his things out of it. With any luck, he’d never see that piece of shit again.
The roadhouse was long and low, with weathered siding that might once have been a dark red. The wooden steps were worn and sagged in the middle, and even from outside Jace’s wolf nose could smell hot grease and stale beer.
After the bright sunlight, the interior of the roadhouse seemed dim. The place was nearly empty—too late for lunch and too early for dinner. There were a few patrons at scattered tables, but the bar was empty.
Jace walked up to the bar just as the bartender came out of the kitchen, carrying two plates full of barbecued baby-back ribs. Jace almost groaned with longing. It had been a long time since breakfast.
“With you in a sec,” the bartender said.
Jace waited impatiently while he delivered the plates and came back to the bar. “Okay, friend,” he said. “What can I do you for?”
“I’m actually looking for my girlfriend,” Jace heard himself say. “About this tall, gorgeous blue eyes. Might be a blonde, might be a brunette.” He gave the guy a rueful you-know-how-women-are shrug. “She changes it a lot. Anyway, we’re supposed to meet up here today, but I can’t reach her on her cell. I was wondering if maybe you saw her.”
The bartender dropped his eyes. “Um, I’m not sure. We get so many people in and out…”
He was lying; Jace could smell it. “Come on. Help me out, man.”
The guy sighed. “I dunno,” he said. “There was a woman in here about an hour ago, could’ve fit that description maybe. But I don’t think she’s your girl.” He turned to stack some glasses, and muttered so that only someone with wolf hearing could pick it up, “Hope she wasn’t, anyway.”
Jace sighed. He’d bet money it was Darlene, up to her old tricks. “She was with a guy, wasn’t she,” he said.
The bartender turned around. “Look, I don’t want to cause any trouble, okay? The woman I saw was a blonde—met this guy at the bar and left with him. Heard him say something about packing up and heading out this afternoon. So she probably wasn’t your girl, but if she was, man, you’re better off just letting her go.”
Jace was already striding toward the door. “Sure,” he called over his shoulder. His wolf just growled.
Jace tried to pick up the hellcat’s scent as he left the bar, but there were too many crisscrossing trails and competing scents. He jogged down the road and into the campground, not bothering with the car. There was no sign of ‘Darlene,’ and nobody around to ask.
His phone chirped—another text from Jesse. Phone’s still there. He wished he knew what that meant. She could still be here, or she could have tossed the phone in the trash, left it in a cabin…he didn’t know where to start looking. All he knew was that he hoped the phone was still on her. That she was still here. That he could at least talk to her and try to figure out what the hell was going on.
He stepped to the side of the dirt parking lot, near one of the paths that led to the campsites. He closed his eyes and concentrated, sniffing the air.
Was that a hint of summer flowers? The rich, intoxicating scent that had driven him crazy when they made love?
We had sex, he reminded himself. That’s all it was. But it was better not to think about it at all. He didn’t want to get lost in memories of her warm skin, her soft moans, the way it felt to cup that gorgeous ass. The way she’d touched his heart.
He breathed in deeply again, his wolf coming to the alert. He couldn’t be sure…too many scents…
And then a puff of wind did bring her scent, sweet and unmistakable. His inner wolf wanted to bound right out of his skin. She’s here.
Jace started down the path. There was a cabin on the left, and another further down on the right. He dialed Jesse. “Is Rafe with you?” he asked.
“Yeah, he’s right here. What—”
“Tell him to call my lost phone. Now.” Jace cut the line. Then he stood still and listened, hoping she hadn’t turned it off.
Moments later, he heard the faint tones of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Bad Moon Rising” riding on the breeze. Rafe had downloaded the song onto Jace’s and Jesse’s phones as his personal ringtone—his idea of a werewolf joke.
The song cut off quickly, but not before Jace’s sharp wolf ears got a bead on where it was coming from. The cabin on the right.
Jace made a mental note to buy Rafe a beer.
Chapter 12
Emma sat in the cabin with Barry, trying not to fidget while he meticulously and oh-so-slowly packed up his excessive, overpriced camping gear. No wonder this guy was single, if he was this picky about everything he did.
She kept surreptitiously checking the time on Jace’s phone. Grizzly would have said to ditch it, but she told herself there was really no reason why she should. How likely was it that a biker would have the resources to track a cell phone?
She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t want to let go of this last piece of him—of their night together. The way she’d felt so warm and safe in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt her while he was there. The feel of him filling her up, feeling like a part of her, surrounding her with heat and passion and…love? No. That was ridiculous. She’d known the guy, like, five minutes. She didn’t believe in insta-love.
But it wasn’t like being with Alexander, either. That hadn’t even come close to this. Nothing in her experience ever had.
Finally, Barry finished packing and checked the cabin for the third time to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Emma checked too, hoping it would speed things up.
She had this strange, itchy feeling between her shoulder blades. Like one of her pursuers was just behind her, about to catch up. She needed to get on the road.
Barry shouldered his backpack and Emma picked up his cooler, and they headed for the door. He’d pulled his car up just outside to pack it up, and they threw the rest of the stuff in the trunk—make that, Barry placed it precisely in a preordained pattern. Emma eased her tense shoulders and tried as hard as she could not to scream “Hurry up!”
Barry pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Do you want to drive first?” he asked politely. “Or shall I?”
Who say
s ‘shall?’ Emma wondered. She was just about to offer to drive—since Barry probably never went even a mile over the speed limit—when Jace’s phone rang in her pocket.
“I see a bad moon rising…”
Crap. It was that guy Rafe again. She was not up for another stint as Mindy—she already had more aliases than she could keep track of.
She pulled the phone out of her pocket and pressed the button to dismiss the call, sending it to voice mail.
It didn’t matter.
Because a voice came from behind her—a sexy, growly, totally pissed-off voice that she remembered all too well.
“Darlene, Darlene, Darlene,” he said. “You’ve been a very bad girl.”
Both Emma and Barry wheeled around to see Jace standing behind them, arms crossed over his chest. Shit. How the hell had he gotten so close without them hearing him?
Jace was glaring like he wanted to kill her. Barry, who was about a foot shorter than Jace and looked like a scrawny teenager next to his muscular frame, was not going to be able to protect her.
He didn’t even try.
The little coward started stammering and backing up, hands up like he was about to ward off an attack. Which he probably was.
“Look, man, whatever’s going on between you two, it’s none of my business. But, ah, you should leave her alone? If she wants to leave, I mean?” Jace’s frown got deeper, and his murderous vibe got stronger. Barry added, “And I never touched her, man. I swear.”
My hero, Emma thought sourly.
“Yeah,” Jace said. He took a slow step forward. “I guess she told you the story about the evil, violent ex who was chasing her down? Who’ll take out anybody who gets in his way?”
Barry nodded timidly.
Jace took another step forward and stared down at him. “Well, that would be me.”
Barry’s eyes grew wide.
“Now,” Jace said, “take your car keys, and your little wussy hybrid, and take off. Forget you ever met either one of us. Because if you don’t—or if you call the cops—then I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”
He growled, deep in his throat, and took a last step forward.
Barry slammed the trunk, scrambled around the car, dove into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
Emma kicked Jace in the knee as hard as she could and grabbed for the passenger door. Barry peeled out without a second thought, and Emma stumbled as the door handle was jerked out of her hand. Jace grabbed her by the waist and swung her around, easily lifting her so that her feet weren’t touching the ground.
He put one hand over her mouth so she couldn’t yell out, and bundled her up the steps and into the empty cabin before anyone could see her or try to interfere.
Emma fought like a wildcat. This could not be happening. She had to get out of here, and she had to do it fast. And she had to do it without this enraged, possible serial killer—well, killing her.
Her struggles were no match for Jace, though. He wrestled her through the door and kicked it shut. Then he tightened his grip and whispered in her ear, “I’m going to put you down. And I’m going to take my hand off your mouth so you can give me some damn answers. Don’t even think about screaming. If you do, I swear I’ll rip your throat out.”
Emma went limp. She didn’t think he’d really hurt her; in fact, although he was holding her tightly, he was being careful not to hold her tight enough to bruise. She was starting to get the feeling that Jace Monroe wasn’t nearly as scary as he pretended.
He let her feet drop to the floor and moved his hand away from her mouth. He still held her tightly against him, though, one arm like an iron bar around her waist, and the other across her shoulders. Emma felt the cuffs in her pocket digging into her side from the pressure.
“Okay,” he said. “Now where’s my bike? And the rest of my stuff?”
Emma was going to ditch the bike anyway, and give it back to him. So what the hell.
“If I tell you, will you let me go?”
“Depends on whether you Thelma and Louised it like the alleged Ferrari.”
As if she’d do that to a bike that nice.
She shook her head. “It’s parked up behind the office. All your stuff’s there.” Except his gun and handcuffs, but he could easily replace those.
“Liar,” he said. The hand around her waist dipped into her pocket and pulled out the handcuffs. “These are mine.”
She shrugged, as well as she could with him wrapped around her. She tried not to think about how good it felt to have him hold her again. Serial killer, she told herself. Crazed Idaho militia. Kidnapped brides.
It didn’t help.
She sighed. “Okay,” she said. “Most of your stuff is there.”
“Why’d you take it?” His breath was warm in her ear. “Why’d you leave? I offered to help you. We had something—”
That ‘something’ pulled at her, as if they were magnetized together. No. She had to get out of here. She had to get to Grizzly.
“Something that includes you restraining me by force? Fuck you,” she said.
He laughed. She could feel his chest rumble. “Fine. Be that way,” he said. “There are other ways to make you talk.”
His lips started moving on the tender skin on the back of her neck.
She stiffened. Seriously? He thought that holding her captive and forcing himself on her was going to make her go all weak in the knees and tell him everything he wanted to know?
His tongue began to make slow circles, and then he nibbled gently at the side of her neck, just under her ear. Her knees did get a little weak, actually. The embarrassment of acting like the idiot heroine of a 1970’s romance novel caused a flush to move up through her chest and into her face.
“Yeah,” he said. She could hear the amusement in his voice. “Want to rethink your position?”
Emma ducked her head and bit his thumb. “Ow!” he yelled, wrenching his hand back. Unfortunately, he didn’t let go of her. Instead, he swung her around and pinned her against the wall, her hands over her head.
Emma looked up at him. This guy was threatening and manhandling her. Why did she still want him? The way he looked, the way he felt—even the amazing way he smelled—was making her crazier than any guy ever had before. She forced herself to focus. Grizzly. Alexander. Duke, lying in a hospital.
Which might happen to Jace, if Alexander caught them.
She stared into those mesmerizing hazel-gold eyes. “Why did you come after me?” she whispered.
“I wanted my bike back,” he said. She waited, sensing there was more. His murderous frown was gone, and he watched her with the same puzzled frown between his eyebrows that he’d had last night. His grip on her eased, and she had a sudden urge to reach up and smooth the frown away. “And…” there was a long silence, as if he was dredging the words up from deep inside him. “I wanted to find out if anything about last night was real,” he said softly.
His words pierced straight to her heart. She had to make him let her go. Every moment they stayed here increased the danger. She opened her mouth to say “no,” but she couldn’t get the word past her dry throat, no matter how hard she tried.
He stared at her for another few seconds. Then, quick as a snake, he snapped the cuffs around one of her wrists and fastened the other end to an exposed water pipe running up the wall. He stepped back, smirking.
Emma stared at the cuffs, then him, and then back at the cuffs again. “What the hell?” she asked, stunned. “Are you crazy?”
“Nope,” he said. “I’m going to go get my bike, assuming you’re not lying to me about where it is. And then I’m going to come back here, and we’re going to talk. I want to know who the hell you really are, why you’re making your way across the country seducing one guy after another and stealing their rides, and what you’re planning on doing in Cascade, Idaho.”
Emma eyed him warily. “What makes you think I’m going to…where was that?” She faked ignorance. “East Bumfuck, Idaho?”
>
“The GPS in the Malibu,” he said. “Careless.”
It had been careless. She just hoped Alexander’s minion hadn’t done the same thing.
She shrugged. “Somebody else must have programmed that in there.”
“Liar,” he said again, softly. He stood, considering, and then moved in closer, until they were just inches apart. She could feel the heat between them; she almost felt like she could feel his heart beating.
His eyes looked even more golden in this light—or was it because she was so close to him? There was something wild and feral about him, and yet he could be gentle and protective as well. Who was this guy? How had he gotten under her skin so fast?
He was watching her face, as if he could read what was going on behind her eyes. His gaze dropped to her lips, and she unconsciously licked them. He smiled slowly and leaned even closer, until their lips were almost touching.
“It’s too bad you didn’t feel anything last night,” he said softly. “I did.”
Emma almost forgot to breathe. The heat of him, his scent, and his masculine confidence made her feel as if she were melting inside. Melting in her heart. You mean between your legs, her inner voice said. You know that’s how you got into trouble with Alexander.
In spite of that, she found herself tilting her head up slightly, as if to kiss him.
He stepped back and the spring air rushed in between them, feeling colder than winter.
He turned toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. You better hope to hell my bike is where you said it was.”
Emma stared at him, still shaken by her physical reaction. “You’re just leaving me here?”
“I said I’d be back.”
“I’ll scream,” she threatened. “People will hear me.”
He shook his head. “You won’t,” he said. “You don’t want to attract that much attention to yourself.” He grinned. “And I’m sure you don’t want to explain what you’re doing handcuffed to the wall in that wussy guy’s cabin. That’s downright kinky.”
He strode out the door.
Emma stared after him, not sure whether she wanted to kill him, or kiss him.
Fugitive Mate (Silverlake Shifters Book 1) Page 6
