by Jane Jamison
Still, she had to leave. Had to find out if the rumors were true. She’d have to hitch it from Atlanta to Texas, but she was willing to do whatever it took to get there. Her future lay in Forever.
“I’m leaving, Rick. One way or the other.” She cringed as his eyes flashed. That was a poor choice of words.
“Be careful what you say, Zoey-girl. There’s only one way to get out and you know what that is.”
She’d pushed his back to the wall just as much as hers was now literally pushed against a very real one. Her fingers tightened around the end of the gun. “Please, just let me go.”
“Sorry, Zoey-girl, I can’t do that.”
The shift came as it always did for him, easily and quickly. He shucked his clothes as the transformation swept over him. Dark fur took the place of his tanned skin and short, spikey brown hair. His eyes, filled completely with amber now, locked onto her even as fangs burst through his gums, replacing his teeth. Human muscles changed into animal ones and bones lengthened in some places while shortening in others.
It only took a couple of minutes before the huge, lean werewolf that was Rick stood before her. Once he was in his wolf form, the others started to shift.
She had no choice. The time was now or never. Either she was going to get away or she was going to die. Taking a deep breath that had no chance of steadying her nerves, she pulled the gun out from behind the wall and aimed it at Rick.
Chapter Two
To her surprise, Zoey didn’t close her eyes as she pulled the trigger. The noise of the gunshot was louder than the growls of the others combined. Her arm jerked back with the powerful retort of the shot, and she almost dropped the gun.
For a moment she wasn’t sure that she’d hit him. Everything, everyone, even time seemed to stand still. Her mouth dropped open as she gawked at them and they gaped back at her, their transformations stopped before they’d had a chance to shift all the way.
Rick’s eyes widened, stunned shock ridding them of some of the amber. As though in a daze, he lowered his huge werewolf head and looked down at his front leg. She followed his gaze. Blood oozed from a wound in his leg to slide over the fur and down to his paw.
He lifted his head then pulled his mouth back in a vicious snarl. Terror raced into her and it was a good thing. Otherwise, she might have remained rooted to the spot.
Clutching the gun that had only three more bullets left in the chamber, she turned and fled. Her heart was in her throat and breathing was hard as she ran through the abandoned warehouse that the pack used for meetings. Even though she’d expected it, she was still horrified to hear the eruption of growls and snarls behind her as the entire pack shifted into their wolf forms. She didn’t dare look back. She could already imagine saliva-dripping fangs about to sink into her flesh.
It was a small miracle that she made it through the door and into the sunshine before they caught her. She slammed the door behind her, threw the steel bar into place, and did something she never dreamed she’d do. She thanked her former leader.
Thank you, Harland.
Harland had taken elaborate pains to put a steel bar across the front of the warehouse door so that he could lock it from the outside. Because of that, they could use the warehouse as a training ground for new werewolves, trapping them inside until they’d passed certain initiation tests.
She’d just lowered the bar into place when a loud crash sounded from the other side of the solid-steel door. It reverberated, threatening to break it away from its hinges. She held her breath and prayed that both the door and the bar would hold.
I can’t believe I made it out of there in one piece.
She backed up, keeping her attention focused on the door. One high window on the farthest wall of the boarded-up warehouse was the only other way out. It would take time for the pack to race to the opposite end of the building, then rig up some means of reaching the window. She had no doubt, however, that Rick had already sent part of the pack to do just that.
The door shook again as another assault struck it. Sticking the gun into the back waistband of her jeans, she turned and started running down the street. If her luck held, she’d make it back to the foreclosed house before they got out of the warehouse. She’d taken to hiding there during the days to stay away from Rick. At night, she had to show up at the pack house or they would’ve started searching for her.
Once at the house, she’d grab her backpack that contained a few changes of clothes, some granola bars, and as much cash as she’d been able to save under Rick’s ever-watchful eyes.
A third and even more powerful strike pounded the door, its reverberations echoing behind her, giving her both renewed fear and incentive to run even faster.
Please, please let it hold.
And yet, even as the fear still clutched at her stomach, she couldn’t help but smile.
* * * *
To Zoey’s surprise and relief, she didn’t have any trouble hitching from Atlanta to Dallas. A human family picked her up not far outside The Perimeter of the city and took her all the way.
Mary Pritter, the mom, had made her feel like she was one of the family, treating her like she was the older sister to her two children, Wally, age five, and Emma, age eight. Walter Sr. wasn’t too thrilled about letting a stranger into the family minivan, but Mary hadn’t relented. As she put it, “Wally, dear, one day we might need help. Hopefully, someone will be there for us. Besides, WWJD?”
Emma had combed her doll’s hair and sagely explained that WWJD meant “What would Jesus do?” to Zoey. She’d nodded as though she’d known exactly what the little girl was talking about. Religion in the Clayton Pack meant Harland’s and then Rick’s word and that was it.
The only problem she had was with the family dog. Wiggles, a small mix-breed that was almost as wide as he was long, sensed Zoey’s werewolf half and had barked nonstop at her for the first thirty minutes of the ride. However, once he’d realized that she wasn’t going to hurt his human family, he’d settled down and even spent half the trip snoring at her feet.
The Pritters had gotten her a hotel room when they’d stopped in Jackson, Mississippi, for the night, then had fed her dinner. They’d continued the generosity by buying her breakfast the next morning before they’d gotten back on the road.
She’d asked for their home address—again, much to Walter Sr.’s displeasure—and had promised that she’d pay them back as soon as she could. Mary, still asking herself the same WWJD question, told her that it wasn’t necessary and that she should instead “pay it forward.”
For one of the few times in her life, Zoey had been brought to tears when they’d finally parted ways on the west side of Dallas. Mary hadn’t wanted to leave her at the bus station, but had finally given in when Zoey had insisted that she’d be all right. They’d given her money for a ticket and then had waved as they’d pulled out of the parking lot. Good old Wiggle’s face glued to the rear windshield was the last thing Zoey had seen of her new friends.
That had been two days ago.
The rest of the trip from Dallas to Forever had taken as long as the first part. She’d hitched again, but had never found anyone that would take her more than a few miles. At night, she’d slept wherever she could, often huddled into a ball under a bush.
At last, she stood on the side road leading into Forever and studied the simple sign that told her she’d made it to her destination. It was still a hard walk into town, but she didn’t care. She’d gladly walk the rest of the way.
She trudged down the road, keeping to the side to make a quick step onto the shoulder if any cars came along. The sound of a motor had her turning around and stretching out her arm to stick out her thumb. She squinted into the afternoon sun, shaded her eyes, and tried to make out the model of the car. When she did, she sucked in a breath and stared even harder.
Shit. It’s a black 1982 Cadillac just like Rick’s.
She was off the road and jumping into the bar ditch as fast as she could. Had he
come after her? But she’d never mentioned Forever to him. Not specifically anyway. She’d let it slip about the rumors, but at least she’d managed to keep from telling him the name of the town. He had to have checked around and heard the same rumors she had.
She cringed, ducking low in the ditch. Even in this age of economy, gas-efficient cars, other people drove Cadillacs, right? Yet her gut told her it was him.
The car zipped past her, and as soon as she was sure it was safe, she peeked over the edge of the ditch and tried to make out the license plate. Rick’s had a vanity plate that read Wolf 1, but she couldn’t make out the letters or numbers as the wheels dug up the gravel and dirt, forming a dirty cloud to trail behind the vehicle.
She scrambled out of the ditch, her breath hitching in her throat, and tried to think. If she went into town now, she might run into Rick. Without knowing what the people of Forever were like, she couldn’t bank on them standing up to Rick for her sake. As her alpha, they’d listen to him before they’d take her side.
She searched the area around her. It was flat land for the most part with small hills to the right of her. If she had to, she could spend the night outside again and wait until tomorrow. If she was lucky, he’d keep going once he’d seen that she wasn’t there. Then she could sneak into town and check things out.
It wasn’t a choice she liked, but it was the only one she had. Throwing her backpack over her shoulder, she struck out, determined to make the best of a bad situation. After all, a bad situation was a lot better than the kind of situation she’d have if Rick found her.
* * * *
Nolan Sawyer crouched down beside the carcass of a dead calf and muttered a few choice words. The calf’s belly was ripped apart, and after studying the tracks around it, he knew that coyotes had gotten it. Coyotes didn’t bother cows too much, but the calf had no doubt gotten separated and ended up on its own. Away from the rest of the herd, it had stumbled into a hole, broken its leg, and become the perfect target for the predators.
It’s a damn shame.
Not only was it a loss financially, but he hated for any animal to die trapped and alone, frightened as a predator approached.
He stood and considered his choices. He could bury the carcass, haul it back on his horse, or he could just leave it. On any other occasion, he would’ve chosen to haul it back, but he didn’t relish putting the gory remains on his horse. Besides, there wasn’t that much left to haul off. Burying it wasn’t really a choice, either, since he had nothing to dig with. That left leaving it where it was. As a rule, he didn’t like doing that because the remaining putrefying meat would draw scavengers, but since the calf was far enough from where the herd was located, he thought it would be okay.
Shaking his head, he pivoted on his boot and headed back to his horse. He was on top of Rocky a moment later and clucked, giving the animal a nudge with his heels. Rocky, knowing the way home as well as he did, blew out a snort and turned to the right. Nolan wouldn’t even have to think about what direction they were going. Rocky would undoubtedly head them back to the ranch and his cozy stall.
Nolan tugged his hat lower on his head, trying to stave off the heat of the sun bearing down on his shoulders. It was late spring, but the sweltering days of summer weren’t far away. His thoughts drifted back, remembering the first day he’d come to Red Moon Ranch.
A real estate agent by profession, Nolan had spent most of his days working for a large firm in Dallas. He liked his work, enjoyed dealing with people, and had even liked living in Dallas, but there had always been a hole inside him. It was as though he was missing a vital piece of who he was, but didn’t know how he could find it.
The answer came when his cousin, Declain Sawyer, had called. Having just purchased Red Moon Ranch from the estate of an older man who’d passed away recently, Declain was in need of help. Nolan had laughed before reminding Declain that he hadn’t worked on a ranch in several years. Together, they’d often spent their youthful summers earning money on someone else’s ranch near their hometown of Woodward, Oklahoma. Once Nolan went off to college, he’d taken to finding part time jobs in the city, leaving Declain to work on the ranches.
But college hadn’t stopped them from keeping in touch. Nolan spoke to his cousin off and on, asking about the ranch and the slower, easier-paced way of life. He’d often compared it to his frantic city lifestyle and wondered if he was heading down the wrong path.
He and Declain had very different upbringings. Declain’s home life had consisted of three brothers and parents who had raised their children with plenty of love and guidance. Every child had felt special and equal to his siblings.
Nolan’s childhood, on the other hand, had been a series of so-called stepfathers who came and went like a summer rain shower. He’d never felt comfortable in his own home and had often gotten the impression from both his mother and the current pseudo-stepfather that they’d rather not have him around. He’d gotten out of there as soon as he’d received a scholarship to college.
Although coming from divergent backgrounds, Declain and he had a similar way of looking at the world. Both had a work ethic that put others to shame. The only difference was that Declain was a rancher and working with his hands. Nolan’s work was more sedentary, and he used a gym to keep in shape. He’d turned Declain down several times, before finally taking the plunge and leaving his job.
From the moment he’d set foot on the ranch, he’d known he’d found his rightful place in the world. It was amazing how fast the necessary skills came back to him. From riding to cutting cattle, everything came naturally, reassuring him that he’d made the right decision.
Rocky jerked his head up and danced in place, breaking Nolan out of his thoughts. He was about to ask the horse what the problem was when he saw a person kneeling under the tree in front of him.
Who the hell is that?
Unlike Declain, he wasn’t a werewolf so he couldn’t shift and use heightened senses to answer his question. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t find out on his own. The fact that the stranger was in the middle of their land was curious. Visitors to Forever didn’t stray off the main road and any current resident wouldn’t have any reason to take a hike in the eastern section of their land.
Nolan dismounted, taking extra care to keep quiet. Just because he wasn’t a shifter didn’t mean he didn’t know how to move like one. If the person was doing anything illegal like rustling a cow, then he wanted the element of surprise on his side.
As he drew closer, he could see the outline of the person’s form much clearer. He squinted against the setting sun, but not even the shadow of the tree could hide the shapeliness of her buttocks.
Why is this woman out here?
He glanced around, confirming that she didn’t have a horse or a vehicle. Why was she on foot? And why hadn’t she stayed close to the main road? He couldn’t tell what she was doing since her hands were in front of her and her body blocked his view. She was intent on whatever it was, helping him sneak up on her even easier.
He paused and studied her. She wasn’t skinny by any means, but she wasn’t fat, either. If pressed, he would’ve put her around average weight and height for a human. Her brown—or was that what women call auburn?—hair was pulled back into a ponytail that streamed down her spine. Although he couldn’t see her chest, he could make out the subtle swell under her arms that indicated a good-sized bosom.
Maybe she’s lost.
That, at least, made sense even if it didn’t quite explain what she was doing on their land. He moved closer, no longer taking as much care to remain quiet. Getting within a couple of yards of her, he paused, adopted a friendly smile, then took another step forward.
* * * *
Damn it. No cell phone reception.
Trying to call her best friend in the Clayton Pack had proved useless. Trish Yarrick probably didn’t want to hear from her anyway now that she’d shot Rick and taken off. The others would see it as betrayal if Trish spoke to her, making her
guilty by association. She’d hate for Trish to catch Rick’s anger. Instead, Trish was better off lying low until everything died down.
Still, she’d had to try. If Trish could tell her for certain that Rick had gone to track her down in Forever, then she’d have no choice but to get the hell out of town until Rick finally gave up and went back to Atlanta. Trish was good at keeping secrets and no one would find out. She pressed the speed dial for Trish, but once again, the phone didn’t connect.
Damn it.
The crack of a stick behind her had her tensing up.
Something’s behind me.
But was it an animal that might hurt her? Or one that would race off the moment she moved?
Her breath hitched in her throat. Was it Rick?
Either kind of animal would be preferable to turning around and finding Rick behind her. She’d rather face a real cougar than confront the pack leader again.
Her chest tightened as though Rick’s hand was gripping her heart and strangling the life out of it. If it was Rick, she had only one chance to get away. Thankfully, she’d placed the backpack with the gun in front of her. Doing her best to shield her movements, she reached in and pulled out the gun.
If only I could shift, maybe I could outrun him.
If that didn’t work, she might still have a decent fighting chance, using fangs and claws against fangs and claws. As it was, she’d have only the gun to protect her.
The noise of another twig breaking told her that it was probably a human. Nothing but a very large animal or a man would’ve made that twig crack as loudly as it had.
She closed her eyes, took a breath, then stood up. Her arm came up as she whirled around, her finger already pulling the trigger. As soon as the crack echoed in the air, she’d stared in horror as the man’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened.
He went to his knees a moment later, then fell to his side. His cowboy hat flipped off his head and landed upside down on the ground.