Runaway (Fox Ridge Shifters Book 1)

by Marianne Hull

  “You changed your name.”

  She laughed. “Many times, but thanks to my dad, he always found me.”

  “Your dad?”

  “I learned on my last visit. He’s been telling Sean my location in return for his family’s protection.”

  “Your dad is a total prick.”

  “True.”

  “Does he know now?”

  “Yes. Hairy... Sean likes to toy with me. Small acts of vandalism followed by bigger ones. The last time, though, he totally destroyed almost everything I owned. Attacking Hairy means he’s watching and knows he’s important to me. I think this is the final act, Luke.”

  Luke’s blood ran cold. Both he and the bear snapped to attention. Something threatened his mate. “He’s here,” he said flatly. He turned and grabbed her shoulders. “Move in with me, Crissy. Please. I know it’s soon, but you would be safer at the farmhouse.”

  To his relief, she nodded without any argument. “Okay, but I can’t spend all my time out there under guard.”

  “It will buy us time until we find him.”

  “But what will you do? I’ve never even filed a police report.”

  With grim determination, he said, “We shifters take care of our own. We know he owns a Porsche. You knew that, didn’t you?”

  She blinked. “He always liked expensive cars,” she admitted. “When you said ‘Porsche,’ I figured it had to be him.”

  “We have to discuss this. You lied and didn’t trust me.” He reminded himself she’d lied out of fear. “Later. We’ll talk later. Come. Let’s go pack your things.”

  Crissy let him help her to her feet, but said, “I have my shift. And I have to explain to Bobby.”

  “I’m sure he’ll understand.” He pulled her close. “I love you, Crissy.”

  “I love you, too, Luke.”

  ###

  Parked on the wrong side of the street, the stolen Toyota Camry rested in a blind spot by the bank building at the corner of First and Main. The front window of Bobby’s Place, lit with its Open and Budweiser signs, stood not fifty yards away, but someone leaving the building wouldn’t see the Camry until it was too late. Sean parked there at a quarter till midnight and waited, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

  At five past, the employees emerged from the alley beside the restaurant and crossed in front of it to the parking lot on the other side. Crissy wouldn’t be among them, he knew. She would leave in at least five more minutes. The last car pulled out of the lot, and he lifted the rifle from the seat beside him.

  Through the sight, he watched Crissy pull the chains on the signs. A tempting target, but he waited. A moment later, the front room went dark. A couple minutes after, the big ape she was dating poked his head around the corner of the alley, then motioned her forward. That one was a problem. He’d begun shadowing her day and night. She no longer came to her apartment, although a quick trespass showed most of her things were still there. He’d resisted the urge to destroy it all, wanting bigger targets this time. Sean also noticed a sheriff’s car often parked in the alley beside the restaurant. He surmised they knew he was here. Not a problem. It made things more of a challenge; he liked that.

  The boyfriend’s big truck sat right in front of the restaurant. Sean had seconds. Crissy’s pretty face loomed in the cross-hairs of his sight, but he wasn’t the best shot. Lowering the rifle slightly, he aimed at the shiny locket hanging over her heart.

  No. Too soon. She hadn’t suffered enough. He swung the rifle to the right and shot the boyfriend in the chest.

  ###

  A cracking noise echoed in the street, but it didn’t register in her mind at first. Luke stumbled, falling to the sidewalk, dragging Crissy down with him beside the truck. An engine revved, tires squealed, and a car sped past them down the street.

  She gasped at an intense pain in her chest. “Hey, Luke. You okay? Did you trip?”

  He lay on his side, a hand clutched over his chest. “Crissy, get down.” His voice was strained.

  She knelt. “What happened?”

  He groaned, coughed up blood, and said no more.

  “Luke? Luke!” Shot. The noise was a gun. She panicked at first, feeling faint, but she had no time to break down or get emotional.

  First checking his pulse—weak but still there, at least—she pulled her phone from her purse and shuffled over to the back end of the truck and peeked out at the street. It appeared deserted, as it had when they’d exited the alley. The car that sped past must have been the shooter.

  She fumbled through her contacts list. Luke had given her the numbers for Neal, Hugh, and Connie, in case of an emergency. She tried Neal first.

  “Neal Baumann.”

  “Neal, Luke’s been shot.” Saying the words out loud almost undid all her resolve. She squatted at Luke’s side and swallowed hard.

  “Where are you?” he asked urgently. Through the receiver came a scraping noise, as if he were pushing back a chair.

  “In front of the bar.”

  “Are you safe?” Footsteps thudded in the background. He was running.

  “I think they drove away.”

  “I’ll call San. He might be close enough to get there before me. Don’t call 9-1-1.”

  “Okay.” Her voice wavered.

  “Don’t worry, Crissy. It’s really hard to kill a shifter. Even if it shredded his heart, he’ll come back. Do you hear me?” She heard a muffled yell of, “Hugh! Connie! Get down here right now,” and then, “Do you hear me, Crissy?”

  “Yes. I’ll wait.”

  “Okay. I need to hang up to call San, but I’ll call you right back.”

  The call disconnected. She pressed close to Luke and placed a palm on his cold cheek. “Luke,” she whispered. Oh my God. Was he dead? Neal had said he wouldn’t die. “Luke? Do you hear me?” When he still didn’t respond, she slumped down to sit beside him. Street lights were widely spaced in town; the truck made a dark shadow. She flicked on her flashlight and wished she hadn’t. It was Hairy all over again. An ugly wound, a pool of blood. She had no doubt Sean was responsible.

  For three minutes, she alternated between scanning the street for Sean and checking Luke’s pulse. She mustered up the courage to shine the light closer to the bullet hole in his chest. She thought maybe it should be bleeding more than it was. The blood oozed rather than poured from the wound. Then she noticed the bigger, ragged hole in his back. The bullet had gone through.

  Her phone rang. “Neal?”

  “It’s Hugh. Neal’s driving. The three of us are on our way. San is too far, but we called Charlie. He’s the clan doctor.”

  “Okay.” She didn’t like the way her voice wavered and sat up straighter. “What can I do?”

  Neal said something in the background. “Can you get a bucket of water from the restaurant?” Hugh said.

  “I can’t leave him.”

  There was a pause. “No, of course not. San will clean up after we’ve gone. We’re a few minutes out.”

  After a muffled conversation, she heard Connie’s voice. “Crissy, cara, I was shot once, myself.”

  “Really?”

  “Right in the side of the head. And look at me, as magnifico as ever.”

  “Did it hurt?”

  “Like a son of a bitch, but the important thing is I survived.”

  The tears flowed. She couldn’t help it. Relief was almost worse than the terror.

  “Crissy, it’s okay. He’ll be okay.”

  “I know. It’s just...”

  An engine roared down the street, followed by another. Neal parked at a diagonal and Hugh and Connie jumped out of the vehicle almost before it parked. Seconds later, a dark sedan parked beside Neal’s Mercedes and both drivers got out and ran to Luke’s side.

  Crissy recognized Charlie from the Christmas party.

  “I need you to move aside,” he said gently.

  Connie helped Crissy to her feet and led her away with an arm around her shoulders. “He’s goin
g to be fine. I promise.”

  “I’ve seen much worse,” Charlie announced. He stood. “Let’s get him home.”

  Hugh knelt and fished in Luke’s pocket for his car keys. “I’ll drive his truck.”

  “Hey. Don’t get fresh,” Luke whispered.

  Crissy broke free from Connie and ran to Luke’s side. The pain in her chest surged when Luke regained consciousness. Ignoring it, she cupped his face. “Luke?”

  “I see an angel. I must have died.”

  She laughed through tears. “No, silly. It’s just me.”

  “Ja. Engel.”

  Neal and Hugh lifted him to the bed of his truck, and Crissy climbed in beside him. It wasn’t legal, but she didn’t care.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  All through the ten-minute ride to the farm, Crissy talked to him in gentle tones the way he had done for her.

  Luke made exaggerated groans and moans as they carried him from the truck to his bed. “Oh, you’re hurting me. It’s awful.”

  “Shut up, old man,” Neal said. “You’ll scare Crissy.”

  Crissy suspected Luke laid on the humor for her benefit and tears threatened. Of course. He had felt her worry.

  By the time they laid Luke on his bed and removed his shirt, the bleeding had ceased, and the wound was almost closed. He drifted into sleep shortly after.

  Charlie bandaged the wounds before he left. “He’ll be back to normal in a couple of hours. Let him rest.”

  Connie patted Luke’s cheek and said fondly, “Sleep well, old man.” With a backward glance, she and Hugh left the room.

  Neal sat hunched in the upholstered arm chair with his forearms on his knees, head lowered, and showed no sign of moving.

  Crissy moved to the foot of the bed and remained there. “He means a lot to you. I’m sorry.” She could have said it was her fault, but somehow, in the face of Neal’s distress, the words would have rung hollow.

  He raised his head and looked at her with red-rimmed eyes. “Five hundred sixty-one years.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That’s how long I watched Luke grow more and more lonely after Eva was murdered.”

  “Who’s Eva?”

  He blinked. “He hasn’t told you.”

  Worried, she said, “Is it something I should know?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But it’s his place to tell you. Don’t worry about it. What I wanted to say is that you bring joy to the most important person in my life. You’ve brought joy and hope to this entire clan. You are a good mate, a good match for my uncle, and whatever trouble you bring along with you, we’ll deal with it. You’re worth it.”

  Tears welled again. “Stop it. My handkerchief is already soaked.”

  Neal smiled, a real smile that reached his eyes. He rose. “Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because when he wakes, he’ll want to prove he’s still alive.” He snickered and left the room.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Luke knocked on Crissy’s driver’s side window, and she lowered it. Behind her, the bed of her little red truck lay full of her belongings. It was moving day. Many of the things—pots and pans, furniture—would be stored in Luke’s spacious workshop. She wondered if she would ever need them again, but she had abandoned so much, so many times, she wanted this one time to take her things with her. It added a pinch of hope to what was, essentially, another flight from Sean.

  This time, she would run into the arms of a man who would keep her safe. Moreover, while she’d never had the chance to ward her apartment, she’d purchased enough supplies to do the whole farmhouse. Luke and Neal had both been pleased to hear that. Maybe she’d get a decent night’s sleep for a change.

  “Ready?” Luke asked.

  Milton meowed. She put her fingers against the bars of his carrier so he could sniff them. “Ready. You’ll stay close?”

  “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “It’s dark,” she said. Ever since Sean shot Luke, Crissy couldn’t stop watching over her shoulder, expecting the next shot to take her life.

  “Don’t worry. It’s only ten minutes. I’ll be right there.”

  He slapped the roof and walked back to his big white truck. When he started the engine and the lights came on, she pulled forward and drove down the alley. As they drove through town and onto the highway, she checked for his headlights every minute. At the turn onto Bay Horse Road, the exit that led to the farm, the lights disappeared. Crissy instinctively slowed, but sped up when she realized she made a nice big target if she parked in the road. A few seconds later, headlights appeared in the mirror, and the ghost of a white hood. She relaxed and kept driving.

  ###

  The truck veered to the right on the highway. The steering wheel shuddered, and Luke pulled over at the entrance to Bay Horse Road. He wanted to call Crissy and tell her to turn around, but she never answered while driving.

  “Damn!” An oversight on his part. The first thing he would do in the morning would be to buy her a Bluetooth. He bent over to dig out from under the passenger seat a box of emergency tools and grabbed the flashlight he kept there. Headlights passed while his head was below the dash, so he couldn’t identify the vehicle. Unease prickled at the base of his neck.

  Luke swung open his door and exited the truck. On the right side, he found not one, but two flat tires. He crouched by the back one. In the uncertain light, it appeared the tire stem had been tampered with. He walked to the front tire. The same. The right side of the truck had been facing away from Crissy’s front door. Someone could easily have messed with the stems while he and Crissy were inside packing. It wouldn’t have taken more than a minute and would produce the sort of slow leak that wouldn’t be noticed until he drove away.

  Luke reached for his phone, but thought better of it. The bear could sprint at thirty-five miles per hour over short distances. He shed his clothes with shaking hands in seconds and shifted.

  ###

  Crissy drove around a blind curve and found a Porsche SUV parked diagonally across the narrow two-lane road. She stomped on the brake pedal. Milton screeched as his carrier shot forward off the seat, but she barely heard it. Seconds later the driver’s window shattered, showering her with safety glass, and she reflexively raised her left arm to protect her face. She lowered it slowly to find the barrel of a gun inches from her head. Her heart stuttered, and she couldn’t take her eyes off of it.

  “Hello, pretty girl,” Sean said. “Out of the truck.”

  Crissy thought frantically. Luke must be seconds behind her. Where was he? Her hands fumbled with the seat belt. Best to go along with him as slowly as possible to buy time.

  Sean backed up as she opened the door. The gun never wavered. She got out and stood there with her hands up.

  “Get into the car. Passenger side.”

  She shuffled toward the Porsche until he shoved her in the upper back. “Pick up the pace, Crissy.”

  To her right, bushes rustled and twigs crackled. Something big moved through trees. Please be Luke.

  The Porsche was too close. She knew if she got inside, it would be all over, but her panic-befuddled mind couldn’t think what else to do. She stumbled over her own feet, and Sean grabbed a fistful of the back of her coat and yanked her upright.

  “Over to the driver’s seat.”

  She climbed in and scrambled over the center console, but Sean entered before she could go out the other side. The engine was already running.

  “Drive it back toward the highway.” When she complied and they started down the road, he said, “Don’t you have anything to say to me, Crissy? No ‘hello, it’s been a while’?”

  “Bear,” Crissy said.

  “Bear?”

  “Bear.”

  She slammed on the brakes, but the SUV still hit the big dark bear in the road. He rose up, shook himself off and launched his enormous body onto the hood of the Porsche. The hood crunched, leaving dents under the
bear’s weight. A giant paw slapped the windshield over and over, shaking the whole vehicle, until the glass shattered and the protective film failed. Sean screamed and fired at the windshield, and this hastened its destruction. He opened his door. Before he could flee, bear claws snagged him and dragged him through the hole he’d created.

  Crissy watched with a stunned kind of calm but covered her ears with her hands when Sean’s screams grew more shrill, and the bear’s steady growls became louder. She shied away when her door opened, but suddenly Luke was there, panting as if he’d run a marathon.

  “Crissy,” was all he said and pulled her into his arms. “Come away, Liebchen. You don’t want to see this.”

  She looked anyway. In the headlights Bernie Schmitt, naked and bloody, stood on one leg over Sean’s mauled body. He collapsed onto the pavement, clutching his left arm.

  “Bernie?” she whispered. She started forward to help him, but Luke clutched her tighter.

  “Don’t go to him, Crissy. He’s dangerous.”

  She struggled in Luke’s hold. “He’s hurt.”

  “He’s up to no good. He had no good reason to be here. Don’t you see that?”

  She shook her head. “No. He saved me.”

  “Leave her alone, Schmitt,” Luke said.

  At these words, Bernie fell over onto his side, still clutching his arm, and laughed.

  ###

  The dead scion of a Chicago crime family was more than San could manage, but by the time the sheriff arrived, Luke had dressed, and Crissy and her truck were long gone. They wiped her prints from the inside of the Porsche, knowing if anyone checked, the steering wheel would be clean. They would have to take their chances.

  Bernie hobbled to his SUV and drove off as soon as he was able. Luke reflected that no shifter should be able to heal so fast, and guessed he walked on his broken leg and drove with his broken arm out of sheer bravado. No Schmitt would ever let himself be seen as weak.