Fugitive Mate (Silverlake Shifters Book 1)

by Anastasia Wilde

  Neither, she told herself. You’re going to get yourself out of here, and book it for Hawkeye Mountain if you have to hitchhike all the way.

  Luckily Jace hadn’t realized that if she had his handcuffs in her pocket, she would also have the key.

  Sucker.

  Chapter 13

  Jace didn’t even make it to the parking lot. He’d just gone around a bend in the path when he heard the cabin door slam. He did a quick 180 and raced back, just in time to see Darlene bounding away from the cabin like her ass was on fire.

  Oh, no. She was not getting away this time. Jace sprinted after her, ready to tackle her and carry her back to the cabin yet again, if he had to. He was starting to close the distance between them when he saw a man step out of the woods into her path.

  The man from last night at the bar. Only this time, he was holding a gun on her.

  ‘Darlene’ slid to a stop.

  Jace’s wolf came to the fore. She was his. His! And this guy—whoever he was—was threatening her. Jace ducked into the woods, melting into the shadows.

  What the hell was she into? She obviously wasn’t lying about someone being after her, but why? What did this guy want from her so bad that he needed to take it at gunpoint?

  Jace circled around to come up behind the gunman, moving as fast as he could without revealing himself. Luckily, even in human form, he could move through the woods with barely a sound.

  As he came up from behind, he saw ‘Darlene’ standing in front of the gunman, her oversized bag over her shoulder. She was holding onto the strap with a death grip.

  “You’re too late,” she was saying. “I’ve already uploaded the information onto the cloud. Alexander Grant is going down. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll take off running and disappear before you go down with him.”

  The guy didn’t buy it. “This is your last chance,” he said. “Drop that bag in the middle of the path. Now. If you don’t, I’ll shoot your thieving little ass and take it.”

  Jace barely kept himself from growling loud enough to give his position away. Whoever this Grant was, Jace had the sudden urge to rip his throat out. After he finished with this guy.

  Jace quietly began stripping naked. He called to his inner wolf, and his skin rippled, his body melting and changing. His bones began to sing with the call of the pack.

  Slowly, ‘Darlene’ pulled the strap of her bag over her head. She stepped forward as if to hand it to the gunman, and then, without warning, did a quick spin. The heavy bag swung out and hit the man’s arm, knocking the gun out of his hand. It went spinning across the path.

  “Bitch!”

  The man lunged forward and grabbed Darlene’s jacket, taking a swing at her face. She ducked away, avoiding the worst of it, but Jace could still hear the smack of fist on flesh. He gave one huge leap forward and morphed mid-air into the form of a giant gray wolf. That guy with the gun was about to get a very nasty surprise.

  Darlene and her attacker were grappling for the bag, Darlene holding on to it and kicking at him. The man managed to get the strap around her neck and pulled, strangling her.

  With a wild snarl, Jace bounded out of the woods and latched his jaws around the man’s left arm. The gunman recoiled, his eyes wide with shock. “What the—”

  Jace shook him until he lost his grip on the strap. ‘Darlene’ fell at his feet, gasping for breath, her face dark red.

  Die, his wolf snarled.

  But the man’s jacket was thick, shiny leather, and Jace hadn’t been able to dig his teeth into it. The man rolled away and Jace lost his grip. He lunged, snarling, but the man continued the roll back to his feet and whipped out a lethal-looking knife.

  Jace ducked aside, barely avoiding impaling himself on the blade. A knife, now? This dude was pretty damn prepared for someone who was clearly no Boy Scout.

  Jace circled him, growling, wondering how good he really was with that blade. Jace had to put him out of action, keep him from going after Darlene again. Most humans didn’t have the nerves to close with an animal his size wielding only a knife, but this guy looked like he had nerves of steel. Ex-military, maybe, or just crazy.

  Behind him, he could hear Darlene panting and wheezing. At least she was breathing. He hoped she had the strength—and the sense—to run. Although so far good sense hadn’t been her most noticeable attribute. He saw that the human man was edging toward the side of the path. Towards his gun.

  No way, asshole.

  Jace rushed him, knocking him away from the weapon. He was rewarded with a shallow knife cut on his left shoulder. It burned, which just pissed him off even more. He pounced on the hitman, one huge paw on the man’s knife arm. The man blocked Jace with his forearm to Jace’s neck, staring back at him with stone-cold eyes, veins bulging, straining every muscle to hold Jace off.

  And get some leverage. Too late, Jace realized the man had gotten one foot under him. He heaved, freeing his right arm, and took another slice at Jace’s shoulder.

  This one went deep. Jace wanted to howl, but he turned his head and clamped his jaws on the knife arm, this time hard enough to tear through the jacket. The man screamed and dropped the knife.

  Behind him, Jace heard Darlene scrambling to her feet. Then he heard footsteps, running away.

  She was safe. Now he had to make sure she stayed that way.

  Chapter 14

  Emma stumbled up the wooden steps and into the cabin, slamming the door behind her. For a moment she leaned on it, panting. Then she grabbed the metal cot from against the wall and shoved it in front of the door—as if that would stop a wolf the size of a small pony. Or a man with a gun. But it made her feel a tiny bit safer.

  After that, she sat on the floor with her back to the edge of the cot, feet braced, and waited, heart pounding.

  What she really wanted to do was curl up on the cot in a fetal position and whimper, but she refused. She couldn’t stop her brain from going around and around, though. What the hell was a giant-sized people-attacking wolf doing in a campground? What was it doing to Alexander’s minion? If it won the fight, would it come after her next? If Alexander’s guy won the fight, would he come after her?

  She listened, straining her ears. She no longer heard the wolf snarling—everything outside had gone quiet.

  Too quiet.

  She had to leave this place and get to Grizzly, but she didn’t know how. Jace had gone, and taken his bike with him. She didn’t even know which direction to go when she left the cabin. Any way she went, she could run into the wolf. Or Alexander’s hired gun.

  Finally, she got to her feet and went to the window. She kept glancing back at the door, expecting either the wolf or the gunman to come bursting through it, dripping blood, like a horror movie.

  She looked out, straining to see as far as she could. No wolf. No gunman. She paced up and down, indecisive. She still had Jace’s phone—he’d forgotten to get it from her. He hadn’t come back for her the way he’d promised. She knew she should be glad he was out of her life, but for some reason, knowing he’d just left her behind made her chest hurt.

  Should she call the campground office? The police? Could they trap and catch the wolf? She didn’t want to put people in danger by not reporting a vicious animal.

  No, she couldn’t involve the police. Alexander had cops, politicians, and judges on his payroll. There could be all kinds of warrants out for her by this time. Not to mention the stolen Malibu, which even now was parked somewhere in the campground, thanks to Jace.

  She peeked out the window once more. She had to take the chance—she had to keep moving. Figure out a plan to get to Idaho now that Barry had abandoned her. Maybe she could risk the Malibu. It should be pretty easy to find—there weren’t that many places where Jace could have parked it.

  She was heading for the door when someone started pounding on it. She almost jumped out of her skin. Not a wolf, she told herself. Wolves don’t knock. And neither do Alexander’s goons.

  “Who�
�s there?” she called. She tried to sound strong, but her voice shook a little. She was barely holding it together.

  “Darlene—or whatever the hell your name is—let me in. It’s Jace.”

  She hesitated for just a moment before she went over and moved the cot away from the door. As soon as she did, he pushed through it, looking huge and intimidating in the small space. He grabbed her shoulders and looked down at her, his eyes worried. “Are you okay?”

  Reaction welled up in her. “No, I’m not okay. I almost got shot. And then I almost got eaten by a wolf.” She shoved her hands against his chest, on the verge of tears. “And now you come bursting in here after it’s all over like you think you’re some kind of hero. Where were you when I needed you? Why didn’t you come back?”

  Despite herself, her voice broke on the last question. That made her angry. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need any guy.

  Jace pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. “Shh,” he said, rocking her gently and stroking her hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You were awesome.”

  Emma leaned against his chest. Despite the fact that she was mad at him, his gentleness made her suddenly want to cry. She gulped back a sob. “You don’t know if I was awesome or not,” she said, sniffling. “You weren’t even there.”

  Still, she didn’t want him to let go of her. She slid her hands underneath his jacket. Jace winced, and she felt something warm and wet under her right hand.

  Emma jerked back and held her hand up. There was blood on her fingers. She shoved his jacket back. The whole left side of his shirt was soaked with blood, and the stain was growing bigger as she watched.

  Emma stared. “Shit, Jace, what happened to you?”

  He pulled away. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you kidding?” she said, reaching for his jacket again. “I can see you bleeding out while we’re standing here. We have to get you to a hospital. Did that wolf attack you?”

  He tried to brush her off with his good arm. “No hospitals. No cops. I said I’ll be fine.” He gingerly shrugged off his jacket. “Just help me get this shirt off.”

  Emma compressed her lips. “You are not fine. But if you want to wait until you pass out from blood loss before I call an ambulance, go right ahead. You should probably sit down, though, so you don’t compound your injuries when you hit the floor.”

  A tiny half-smile curved the corner of his mouth. Instead of sitting down on the cot, he walked into the cabin’s tiny bathroom and sat on the closed lid of the toilet. He reached behind him with his good arm and grabbed the back of his shirt, hunching to pull it over his head. After a second of watching him struggle, Emma went in and helped ease the shirt over his head and off the injured arm.

  For a minute all she could see was blood. Then she realized it was coming from two long slices across his upper arm, just below the shoulder. One was fairly shallow, but the other was really deep, the edges gaping apart. Blood was still pouring from the wound, dripping on the floor and soaking his jeans.

  “Holy crap,” Emma breathed. “Jace, we have to get you medical attention now.”

  “No, it’s fine,” he insisted. “It’s already better.”

  Stupid macho man-idiot. It needed about a hundred stitches.

  He was leaning sideways against the sink, looking pale. “But it would help if you maybe put pressure on it? With my shirt?”

  But Emma was staring at the wounds. Clean. Sharp. Not the tearing wounds that would be caused by animal teeth or claws.

  “How did you get those?” she asked. “Did the guy who attacked me attack you? How did he get away from the wolf?”

  He didn’t answer her, just closed his eyes.

  “Give me my shirt,” he said quietly.

  But Emma didn’t, because now her mind was putting together details she’d been too freaked out to notice before. Like how he had deep, bleeding cuts on his shoulder—but his shirt was completely intact. She shook out the wadded-up cloth in her hands and checked it to make sure.

  No holes, no cuts. Except for the bloodstains, the shirt was perfect.

  Which meant he hadn’t been wearing it when he was attacked.

  She took another step back. “Jace?” she said shakily. “What happened to you? Exactly?”

  A bizarre, unbelievable idea was taking shape in her mind. She mentally replayed the unnaturally huge gray wolf lunging at her attacker—and ignoring her. Focusing on the bigger target—the one with the weapon—rather than chasing after her, the weaker prey.

  And she saw the assassin’s knife slicing the wolf’s shoulder. The left shoulder. Two cuts.

  “You’re—” Her mouth wouldn’t form the words. It was too crazy. Finally she choked out, “You’re the wolf.”

  He opened his eyes then, but he didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, his golden eyes boring into hers. Those eyes. The eyes of a wolf. The eyes of a predator.

  She backed out of the bathroom, right into the metal cot, which was still in the middle of the floor. It caught her in the back of the knees and she sat down with a ‘whoosh’ on the thin mattress.

  “You’re a shifter,” she said.

  Chapter 15

  She knew about shifters. He hadn’t expected that—few humans did. They kept themselves a closely guarded secret, and it went against all his training and instincts to share that knowledge with a human.

  To give himself time to think, he grabbed a thin white towel from the towel rack and pressed it against his bloody wounds. “Don’t be crazy,” he said. “People don’t turn into wolves. Shifters are only stories.”

  “No they’re not,” she said. “I know a couple of people who’ve had dealings with shifters. I know they’re real. I just never thought…”

  What? That she’d pick one up in a truck stop and give him the most amazing night of his life?

  He watched her, waiting to see if she would bolt. He hadn’t admitted anything yet. He could still explain away the cuts somehow.

  But she’s our mate, his wolf said.

  He still couldn’t believe it. How could a lying, thieving, human woman be an alpha shifter’s fated mate? It was impossible.

  But what if it was true?

  His hellcat was watching him warily, digging her toes into the wooden floor as if trying to push herself as far away from him as possible. The cot moved backwards, scraping loudly against the floor.

  Ah, hell. If there was even a chance Amerind’s vision was true, he had no choice. All of Silverlake was on the line.

  Jace held her eyes with his. “What if I was?” he asked. He tried for humor, but his voice sounded pleading to his own ears. “Would you run if I told you I really was a big, bad wolf?”

  She stared into his eyes, her expression unreadable. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him. A monster? After what seemed like an eternity, she surprised him by saying, “You’re not so bad.”

  He snorted.

  “You’re not,” she said. “Because if that wolf really was you, then you saved me. Even though you thought I was a lying thief.” She got to her feet and walked back to the bathroom, looking down at him. “Thank you,” she said.

  He dropped his eyes, shame flooding through him. She shouldn’t be thanking him. He’d handcuffed her to the wall, for fuck’s sake, because he was angry and confused. It was only luck that the assassin hadn’t caught her when she was helpless.

  “I shouldn’t have left you in the first place,” he said.

  She shook her head. “You didn’t know. Why should you have believed anything I said? But even though I stole your stuff, you risked your life for me. And you got hurt doing it.” She reached her hand out as if to touch him.

  He wanted her to touch him. He hated how much he wanted it.

  He pulled back slightly. “I’ll be okay,” he said. “Shifters heal fast. Look.” He moved the towel.

  She gasped when she saw the wound. Jace looked down at it. It was better—the bleeding had just about stopped, and the
skin at either end of the wounds had begun to knit together already.

  He folded up a washcloth and tore a couple of strips off the non-bloody part of his shirt to use to tie the washcloth over the wounds. ‘Darlene’ reached out to help him, knotting the cloth snugly and making sure the pad was secured in place.

  Jace wet a clean towel and started wiping the blood off his arm and chest. ‘Darlene’ was still staring down at him, and the silence was starting to make him uncomfortable. Finally he said, “So, want to tell me what you stole from this Grant guy?”

  She looked at him for a long moment, but then turned away. “It’s better if you don’t know,” she said.

  Jace’s arm hurt, and his ego hurt, and something raw inside his chest had been hurting since he woke up and found her gone. He was done.

  “Look,” he snapped. “I helped you last night, and in return I had the privilege of begging the motel clerk to buy me some fucking pants so I could even leave my room. I chased you across two states, got my arm sliced to ribbons protecting you, and I don’t even get to know why?”

  She stayed stubbornly silent, but he could see tears welling in her eyes. Dammit. Seeing her cry made his chest hurt more, and he hated that he was so vulnerable to her. And that he admired her. Even though she was a liar, she was brave, with such a wild spirit. And she was at the breaking point. Whatever was going on, she’d had about as much as she could handle.

  In a gentler tone, he said, “Do I at least get to know your real name?”

  She hesitated for a minute, and then said softly, “Emma. It’s Emma.”

  “Emma,” he repeated, trying it out. He liked it. He said, “It suits you better than Darlene.”

  She gave a choked laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t exactly think that one through.”

  Jace rinsed the towel, then began blotting up the last of the blood.

  “You might as well tell me what you’ve done,” he said. “I won’t turn you in. Shifters don’t like to get involved with the cops.”