“I’m not sure if we’re authorized to do that… Especially… Sheriff, what’s going on?” she asked, reaching for the phone. Marcus reached through the money slot that was in front of the receptionist and ripped the phone from her hand.
“A woman I care about was just shot outside of town. The man who shot her wrecked my vehicle and then fled the scene. I need a vehicle to chase after him.”
She gulped, nodding and handing him a set of keys. She said, “I’ll have to report this. You’ll be getting some backup.”
“Good,” Marcus said and turned to leave the building. “You do that.”
“Car four, Sheriff.”
Marcus found car four outside in the parking lot and unlocked it. He had no use for backup; by the time they caught up to him and Jimmy Rivers, Jimmy Rivers would be dead.
Just like Angie.
He closed his eyes and pushed that thought away, leaving town.
He made it back to the wreck in record time. His Bronco was still there, absolutely destroyed – he knew it was totaled. His clothes were still there, too, and he pulled off the old pair of jeans and slipped back into his own clothes. The last thing he grabbed was his father’s revolver and slid it back into its holster. It felt good to have it at his hip, though he knew he wouldn’t be using it on Jimmy Rivers when he got to him. He didn’t think he would even use his claws. He wanted to tear the man apart with his bare hands.
The scent was long gone, as was the dust cloud, but the tracks of Jimmy’s truck were not.
As he climbed back inside of the car, his radio squawked.
“Sheriff Stone? This is Officer Tancredi, do you copy?”
Marcus ripped the radio from the car and tossed it out the window.
He sped down the dirt road, sliding around corners, taking stretches faster than he had before – but he was on the trail of Jimmy Rivers. There wasn’t much out here, but Marcus caught the glimpse of sunlight reflecting off a truck parked off the road.
Slowing down, Marcus saw that Jimmy’s truck was parked outside of an old house. If he hadn’t been lucky enough to catch a glimpse through the trees, Marcus would have blown right past it.
He pulled up front, half expecting Jimmy to open fire – and half hoping that he would. But there was nothing and Marcus carefully stepped out of the car. He could smell Jimmy’s scent wafting out of the house – it was a mixture of fear, panic, and regret.
Marcus didn’t waste any time; he went straight to the porch and kicked the door down. Two rounds went right past his head, embedding themselves in the wall, and then Marcus heard the sound of an empty pistol.
Footsteps moved through the house, going out the back, and Marcus sprinted after him. He was much faster than Jimmy, and he was on him before Jimmy could even get down the back steps of the house. Marcus pushed him down into the dirt, hard, and smiled as Jimmy collapsed and tried to crawl away. Marcus put one of his heavy boots on Jimmy’s back and pushed him downward.
“Why’d you do it, Jimmy?” Marcus asked, venom in his voice. He could feel the hate flowing through him, the bloodlust, and he wanted to shift right then and there and shred him, rip into him, taste his blood and his life ebbing away from him. Marcus had never felt like that to anyone before – and he smiled.
“I didn’t!” Jimmy yelled, sobbing. “I didn’t kill anyone!”
Marcus heard the words but hardly cared. He dropped down close to Jimmy and whispered, “Why’d you shoot her? Why’d you shoot her?!?”
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to shoot anyone!” Sobbing. He was pathetic. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that! Let me explain!”
Marcus pushed his head down onto the ground. There was more sobbing and tears and snot mixing with the dirt. His rapid breathing kicked up little plumes. His face was covered in mud; he looked like a child.
And I’m going to kill him.
Marcus grabbed the man by the back of the neck, lifted him up, and threw him. Jimmy Rivers rolled over onto his back as he came down, throwing up his hands to protect himself. But Marcus was on him before he could even do that, driving his boot into the man’s throat.
He pushed downward and Jimmy’s hands came up to the boot, trying to push it away – but Marcus just pushed down harder. Jimmy’s legs started to kick.
“You killed her!” Marcus yelled, pushing down.
“I’m… sorry…” Jimmy managed. His face was going red, his kicks were getting weaker.
All Marcus had to do was shift all of his weight down and it would be over. He would have revenge on the man that had killed Angie.
She’s not dead.
What would she think if she saw you now? What would she think if she heard what you’d done?
But Marcus had seen her wounds; whatever she would say didn’t matter. She couldn’t survive that amount of blood loss, no matter how much he’d wished it, no matter how much he’d done.
He leaned his weight down and prepared to kill Jimmy Rivers.
Chapter 20
There was dim light – almost blinding. Far off sounds. Beeps. Annoying beeps, actually. Grogginess. And then there was pain.
It was there, far away, distant, almost as if Angie couldn’t focus on it.
Why do I hurt so badly? What happened? And where am I?
She opened her eyes, the light blinding her for a few moments. She blinked painfully, though it was nothing compared to the pain in her stomach.
She recognized she was in the hospital. Looking down, she saw that her midsection was heavily bandaged and wrapped tight, as if she’d been injured.
Her thoughts were still far away and she knew enough to know she was on some kind of painkillers – though they didn’t completely dull the pain.
I helped Marcus arrest Dean Copeland. Then what? What happened next? We went to the school, picked up his son, and dropped him off…
And then everything came flooding back to her at once.
Dean Copeland had been murdered by Jimmy Rivers. They’d chased him down – wrecked the Bronco on the chase. She’d climbed out, though remembering that was groggy, too.
And then he shot me. Jimmy Rivers aimed a gun at me, and he pulled the trigger.
Oh, my God. Is Marcus okay?
She looked around her room and saw she was completely alone. Next to her bed was a buzzer, and she grabbed it and hit the button frantically.
A nurse rushed in almost immediately.
“Where’s Marcus?”
“Who? Angie, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. But what happened to Marcus?”
“Some naked man brought you in… But he left right after dropping you off. Was that him?”
“Was he hurt?”
“No… just naked,” the woman said, smiling slightly. The nurse’s face went an embarrassing shade of red and Angie knew she was thinking about Marcus. She felt a flash of jealousy towards the woman, then pushed it away.
This woman is here to help me.
“Okay, good, that’s good,” Angie said, leaning back on the bed.
“Do you need anything else?” the nurse asked.
“How bad am I?”
“You’ve been shot,” the nurse said, coming close to her. “It’s not good. You lost a lot of blood. But we’re hopeful that the damage isn’t too serious.”
“Thanks,” Angie said, unsure of what to think. She felt fine, besides the pain in her stomach. For the most part, she was aware.
That could all change, though.
And she realized at that time, what she wanted most was Marcus. She wanted him here to comfort her, to hold her close.
And there he was.
Marcus walked into the room and nodded at the nurse, but his eyes were only on Angie. The nurse’s face went red again and she excused herself. Angie glared at her back as she went. He saw the glare and watched the nurse go with an amused expression on his face.
“There some kind of conflict of interest here?” Marcus asked.
“Humph,” An
gie muttered, crossing her arms – even though that hurt.
“How are you feeling?” Marcus asked. He pulled up a chair and came close to her and that’s when she noticed that he was absolutely covered in blood.
“Marcus… Where have you been?” she asked. Her heart was thudding in her chest. “What did you do? Did you go after Jimmy Rivers?”
His face went ashen.
“Marcus… Did you… Did you…?” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the question. Did you kill him?
His eyes followed hers, saw the pain in them, and then he noticed that he was covered in blood.
“Is that his blood?”
“No,” he told her, reaching out and grabbing her hand. She pulled away from him as best she could.
“Are you lying to me, Marcus? Did you murder him?” She was finally able to voice the words, to put what she had feared most out there.
If he killed him… He’s just as bad as the others. The ones that killed Erica, Dean Copeland, and tried to kill me.
“I wanted to. For what he did to you. I went back to the wreck, where he shot you. Where he tried to kill you. And I hunted him down. I found him cowering, hiding in an old house. And I chased him, threw him to the ground. And I wanted to rip him limb from limb. I wanted to kill him, make him pay for what he did.
“And… I didn’t. I had him on the ground – had him pinned there. My boot on his neck. All I had to do…” he said, looking down, and she could see that he was on the verge of breaking down. His face was pained, his hands were shaking, his voice, which was normally rugged and so sure of himself, was cracking. “And I didn’t do it. You know why? You. I thought of you and what you would think. I wanted to so badly, for what he had done to you. But I couldn’t.”
She reached out then and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly.
“Don’t leave me here alone, Marcus,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be alone.”
“I won’t leave you, Angie,” he told her.
“Will you lay with me?”
He hesitated, but then he climbed up into the bed with her. She scooted over as best she could, then snuggled up against him, feeling his heat radiating off of him. She closed her eyes and nuzzled up against his neck.
This feels right. This is right.
“Marcus?” she whispered. “Whose blood is that?”
“Yours,” he said.
Angie felt her stomach churn.
“I shouldn’t be alive,” she said. “But I guess I have you to thank for that.”
Next to her, Marcus pulled her tighter. She grimaced in pain – but that was okay.
Chapter 21
Angie woke up slowly and glanced at the clock. It was just after 1:00 in the afternoon. She’d woken up earlier that morning to get breakfast but had crawled back in bed after only a few bites. Her stomach was still sore, and she was still weak, but she was getting better.
There was a knock at her room and she looked up. Marcus was standing there, looking concerned.
“How are you feeling today?” he asked.
“Fine, just like I was last night when they cleared me to leave,” she told him with a raised eyebrow. “They did clear me to leave. Just because you think I should stay in the hospital until I’m old and decrepit doesn’t mean that I have to.”
“I know, I know,” he said. Marcus walked into his room and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I just worry about you. I want to be sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” she told him for the hundredth time.
She’d been in the hospital for two weeks, and Marcus had come and spent every day with her, only leaving to change into clean clothes and shower, grab her whatever she needed, and handle official Sheriff business. He spent most of the time he wasn’t at the hospital doing the latter. Between the arrest of Jimmy Rivers, the murder of Dean Copeland, and other events like her torched car courtesy of who knows who, he was in and out of the hospital more often than not.
She’d been looking forward to spending each night with Marcus, but after he’d crawled into bed with her the first time, he’d oddly kept his distance. There was still something there. She could see it in his eyes. He wanted her, and she wanted him. She knew it.
But why can’t he let it happen?
She knew that it couldn’t last forever. She knew once she was fully recovered that she would head back to New York. She had a sinking suspicion that her deal with the Mayor was off the table.
But everything doesn’t have to be.
She sat up and grabbed Marcus’s hand. He looked slightly surprised, and before she could even really decide if it was a good idea or not, she pressed her lips against Marcus’s.
She’d kissed him once before, all of those weeks ago that seemed like a lifetime, but it was nothing compared to this. Where before it had been hesitant and confusing for both of them, now it was perfect. Marcus kissed back gently, so much gentler than she would have thought possible from a man like him.
She imagined that he would pull away and get up, telling her that he couldn’t get involved, but he turned around on the bed and wrapped his arms tightly around her. She felt them move up her body, sliding around her back, then to her chest, tentatively grabbing one of her breasts. She moaned out as he squeezed gently, lowering her down onto the bed.
Angie reached up and peeled his shirt over his head. The bruise had faded and she found her hands trailed over every inch of his chiseled body. She took a deep breath. He smelled primal, a little dusty from the hard work he’d been doing outside, and utterly undeniable.
His lips found hers again and then moved downwards. He kissed the side of her cheek, then an ear – goosebumps exploding across Angie’s body. She shuddered in pleasure, a moan of delight escaping her lips, and then his lips were moving down to her neck. He kissed once, twice, three times.
She shimmied out of her shirt as his hands grabbed it and took it over her head. His lips moved from her neck, down to her collarbones, then down her chest. They kissed lightly just above her breasts, right above her bra, and he grabbed the back of it and with deft fingers, unclasped it. She grabbed it in one hand, covering herself for the slightest moment, then she took it away.
His golden eyes went wide at seeing her topless, but he wasted no time. His lips moved down, down to one nipple, and she closed her eyes as he brought it between his lips. He sucked gently and she squirmed in pleasure, feeling it harden as his tongue ran across it. His lips danced to her other breast, repeating the gesture, all while his fingers slid up and over her wet nipple. He squeezed gently.
Angie could feel his body pressing against hers, warm and tight and between his legs. Pressing against his jeans was a bulge that was struggling to be free. She ran her hand over it through the jeans, squeezing, and now, it was his turn to moan against her skin.
She reached up and grabbed the sides of his head, pulling him back up to her, pressing her lips against his as his body loomed over her. He supported himself above her like some kind of god. Angie’s hands reached down, started unbuttoning his pants, then zipping them down…
Her hand was sliding underneath the waistband of his underwear, her heart thudding in her chest in anticipation, and he suddenly pulled himself away from her. Her hands slipped out, unsure of what to do next.
“Did I do something wrong?” she breathed.
He sat up next to her, silent for a few moments, breathing hard.
“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t do this right now, I’m sorry.” He got up and grabbed his shirt, buttoned up his pants, and headed towards the door.
“Marcus?” Angie called. Did I do something wrong? Everything was going fine, until I reached down…
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “It was nothing you did. I… I just can’t. Not right now.”
With that, he left the room, leaving Angie completely crestfallen. Everything had been good. Everything had seemed so right, and she had ruined it – somehow.
She grabbed her clothes and decided
it was time to get dressed, knowing that the sooner she left Charming, the better off she’d be. Because though she couldn’t place her finger on it, there was something there, something in the back of her mind.
And it was wrong.
Chapter 22
Marcus found himself sitting on his porch, shaded from the overbearing sun. His eyes scanned down his driveway, past his old barn, and focused on his few cattle.
I could make it work.
It was true, he had money. Not a lot, but enough for rural Arizona. He could buy more heads of cattle, repair his fence, and get into the ranching business. It was something he’d always been interested in, something he hoped he could go into if his stint as a Sheriff ended up being short lived…
And it’s looking like it will.
He tried to keep his mind off of what had just happened with Angie in his bedroom. He had wanted it, more than anything else in the world. A wave of happiness flowed through him when he thought about the softness of her lips upon his own, the lightness of her fingertips, the warmth of her skin…
I can’t. I can’t get involved with someone again.
It had nothing to do with her. The past few weeks had been nothing short of exhilarating, scary, and exciting. He had lived for this kind of stuff when he was younger. And he’d learned all about Angie. He’d thought she was conceited, self-absorbed, and rude when he had first met her – but eventually, he’d seen that was just a front. She wasn’t really like that.
And maybe it was because of the times they had shared, or just how she was – but he’d completely fallen for her.
I can’t. Not again. I can’t hurt someone, can’t destroy another life. Because that’s what happens to people that get too close to me. Everyone falls, and I’m the only one left standing.
He heard Angie come out onto the porch, though he didn’t turn back to look at her. He couldn’t right then. What had happened was too fresh, too painful.
“I’m going into town. Copeland called. He wants to get back on track with the work,” Angie told him. She stepped around him and headed down the sidewalk to the new rental car that he’d had brought over from Haven. He opened his mouth to tell her that it wasn’t a good idea and that she was still too weak, but she said, “And don’t even consider telling me I can’t leave. You have no right.”
Blood Moon (Bear Sheriff Book 1) Page 13
