by Tl Reeve
Javier. She shook her head and moaned. The pain intensified by a million. “No.” She sobbed.
He bashed in the window. “No is right.” He leaned in, cut the seat belt, and dragged her out of the seat. The tiny flecks of glass imbedded in the weather strip at the base of the window bit into her back, butt, and thighs. “We’ve discussed you running away before Amity. Now you’ve become a liability.”
She screamed.
2
“Ten-fifty on Highway 35 near Thorne Mitcham’s property, Sheriff,” Betty announced. “Pedestrian called it in, about three minutes ago. Said vehicles were on the scene and screams were heard.”
Lance Wingham, sheriff of Rosewood, Minnesota, and alpha of the Rosewood Pack, sped down the major state highway bisecting his town and his pack. “Anything else I should know?” The last few weeks had been quiet. He liked it that way. No fuss or muss from the outside world did them good. Unfortunately, it came to an abrupt halt the minute the call came in.
“Both parties are still on scene and one vehicle is down the embankment.”
Lance glanced at his speedometer and cringed. Doing sixty on snow-covered roads wasn’t the smartest thing. But in this situation, time was of the essence. Exposure to the elements could mean hypothermia and lead to death. “I’m on my way.”
“I’ll have Thorne meet you there.”
Thorne ran the local wrecker service and was one of his best pack trackers. The man made it his mission to keep away all those who might do their pack harm. “Thanks.”
Flipping on the lights attached to the bar on the truck’s roof, the sheriff studied the road for tracks, unsure of what he’d find when he got there. As it stood, supposedly, the storm of the century was on the way. Of course, all storms around their parts were of “epic proportions,” or “not seen in a hundred years.”
Most of the time, they fizzled before reaching his community. This one, however, whipped around, pushing snow against his truck and the side of the road. Before long, there’d be a four-foot wall of it capable of burying both cars and people.
As he came up on the scene, he saw debris littering the ground. Glints of metal and glass along with door moldings were slung from one side of the road to the other. Distinct circular patterns were cut into the slush already covering the road. Lance slowed to a snail’s pace. A newer pickup sat on the side of the road, steam rising from its peaked hood. A puddle of anti-freeze under it melting the fallen snow.
Lifting his gaze, he spotted the area where another vehicle had gone off the road. His hackles rose. The visual layout of the accident didn’t look right. The truck had come to a stop near the side of the road, but it certainly hadn’t been in danger of falling off the road. So, how did the pickup end up at its resting spot and the car end up off the road?
Lance stopped his truck a couple feet from the edge of the shoulder and climbed out. As he closed the door, a scream tore through the blustery night air. He lifted his head and noted the scent of fresh snow diluted by pain and blood, along with something else. Mate. He growled as the aroma permeated the area.
“Let me go!” a woman cried out as he reached the top of the hill.
A man stood over the slighter figure of a female beside a vehicle resting next to the grove of trees. The cruel twist of the man’s features accompanied the stench of malice surrounding the pair. Lance charged down the embankment toward the vehicle, without a care for his safety.
“Rosewood sheriff, put her down!”
The man dropped her. Instead of running, he pointed a gun at her head.
“Drop it.” Lance’s wolf pushed forward. No one killed on his pack lands. Not even humans. His top lip curled.
Uncaring of the situation, or that Lance closed in on him, the man crouched and pressed the barrel of the gun to the woman’s forehead as he told her, “I will always find you. You’ll never escape me.” He glanced at Lance. “Cavalry is here. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
The words echoed in Lance’s ears as the man rose, releasing the girl, and ran into the forest toward Thorne’s property. He wouldn’t get far. The ten-foot chain link fence surrounding the land would stop him eventually. Right now, Lance had to get to the woman in the snow.
He skidded to a halt next to her. Her bruised and battered body lay motionless and he feared he might be too late. Her eye was swollen shut. Her arm canted at an awkward angle and was covered with blue and purple bruises. A goose egg size bump marred the left side of her head and an angry red seatbelt mark was beginning to bloom across her neck and upper chest. Blood seeped from her nose and mouth.
Shit. Lance placed his fingers against the pulse point on her neck while also listening for her heartbeat. The weak throb had him breathing out a sigh of relief. She’d survived, but not for long if she stayed out in the elements. “I’m sorry.” He tried to be as gentle as he could as he picked up the woman. Her weak moan broke his heart.
Thankfully, the only blood he smelled was from her nose and mouth. Unfortunately, the sickening stench of the man who crouched over her lingered and clung to her clothes. His wolf didn’t appreciate it. Downright pissed him off, but his priorities were to make sure the woman was taken care of first. Then he’d find the bastard who did this.
Lance didn’t sense internal injury, however, what he did pick up had him tightening his hold. Mate. He breathed in her subtle scent. His wolf languished in it and relaxed marginally at the ability to hold her and keep her safe. He glanced down at the woman, broken and battered, in his arms and couldn’t believe his luck. This dark-haired exotic beauty was his.
“Alpha.” He looked up as Thorne stepped from the wooded area to his left.
“I need to get her warm and the doc out to see her. Did you spot anyone on your way over?” Lance started up the incline toward his patrol truck.
“No, should I have?”
He cursed. “Yes. I need to call this in. The guy who pushed her off the road is a major threat. We have to find him before he comes back for her.”
“I’ll get my truck and check the woods one more time before I tow her car to the lot and get the truck into impound. I would have seen him or at least scented him if he came through.” Thorne turned and headed back into the woods. The other man was one of the best trackers in his pack. Lance didn’t doubt what he’d said. If Thorne hadn’t scented him, where had the asshole gone?
Lance placed the woman on the backseat of his truck then covered her with a blanket. For the moment, it was the best he could do. He reached into the front of the truck for his radio. “Betty, I need another officer out here. Send Rayce.”
“Ten-four, Sheriff. Anything else?”
Lance glanced back at the woman before gazing toward the woods. “Have Caleb meet me at my place as well. Then I need you to call every tracker we have and get them out here. We have a suspect on the run in the woods.”
“10-4.”
He climbed behind the wheel and blasted the heater, although doing so would make him uncomfortable. The girl needed it. She was too frail. Too skinny. Several old injuries were mixed in with the new. You’ll never escape me. I’ll always find you. The man’s words echoed through Lance’s mind.
No way in hell would that little weasel bastard get what was Lance’s. He’d make sure of it. The storm might be blowing in, but wolves could track all fucking day. And when they caught whoever hurt her, they’d exact their own brand of justice. He saw the lights of a deputy sheriff’s car approaching. Rayce. The man got out and jogged over to him. In the last ten minutes, the snow had picked up, and the wind began to blow. They were in for a long ass night.
“What have you got?” The tracker braced his hand against the door of the truck.
“There’s a pickup about a hundred feet behind me. I want it gone over with a fine-toothed comb. Then I want your brother, Wain, and two other trackers to pick up the man’s scent from the truck and find him. He can’t have gone very far, and this storm won’t let him get any farther.”
Rayce glanced into the backseat of Lance’s truck, then back to his alpha. “He do that?”
Lance gave a curt nod.
“You’ve got it. We’ll start tracking as soon as I have the vehicle towed back.”
“It’ll take a few hours. Thorne is going to tow her car to the lot first. Then he’ll grab the pickup.” He looked out toward the woods. “Start your search around Thorne’s place. The bastard headed into the woods when I started for the woman.”
“You got it.”
He needed to get her to his place. Caleb would be there soon and the longer she was out here, the more likely she’d come down with something, in addition to having to deal with her injuries. “I’ll be home. Caleb is coming to work on the female. I’ll keep you posted.”
“Understood.” He stepped away from the vehicle, giving Lance room to maneuver out of his spot.
The whole way home, his wolf paced just under his skin. The beast had known its mate when it saw her. But the man had concerns. How did he convince a woman who’d obviously been trying to get away from some psycho prick give a man like him a chance, especially with his dual nature?
Don’t think about it right now. Get her healed, then you can figure out how to get in her pants. He flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror and frowned. She had a lithe quality to her. Her arms were too skinny and her face too thin. She needed more than just healing. She needed to eat. Grow stronger.
He made his way back through the sleepy little town to his home near the backside of the woods. When Lance’s great-grandfather settled the town of Rosewood, he’d always expected the place to stay rural.
The population spiked around fifty years ago to about seven hundred people, but it leveled off since. The place wasn’t flashy. The woods kept it hidden for the most part, and unless someone took the state highway routes, they never knew it was there—which was how they wanted to keep it. He came to a stop next to the side of the house and turned his truck off. The Sears and Roebuck house had a few little design perks, like a side door which opened into the kitchen.
Lance got out of the vehicle and rounded it. The woman hadn’t made a peep since he rushed to her side. He opened the back door and leaned in to lift her. She was as light as a feather as he carried her to the side door of the house. No one messed with the alpha’s house; it was unlocked, and he opened the door to step inside. The warm lighting greeted him along with a familiar face.
“What’s under the blanket, Sheriff?” Caleb placed his coffee cup on the table then stood.
“A woman. Follow me.” He hurried through the house and up the stairs to the spare bedroom next to his. He set her on the bed, and then stood back, giving the doctor room to work. “She was in a wreck off 35 near Thorne’s place. Some of the injuries are fresh and others, not so much.”
Caleb sat beside her and began checking over her wounds. “Did you catch who did this?”
“No. The bastard ran before I could stop him.”
“Have you thought about changing her?” Caleb’s question didn’t surprise him. Wolves could bite – and change – one person, but only in certain circumstances. The two reasons were, of course, extreme. Either because someone was dying and had the potential for being a mate, or because they were a mate and had accepted the gift of the wolf.
No one would ever be turned without express permission, unless it was life or death, and even then, the rules were clear it couldn’t be forced. Some agreement had to be made. Lance had never been put in that situation, but he’d seen what happened when a person was changed against her will. The outcome hadn’t been pretty. A feral wolf hell bent on destruction, then put down by her mate, destroyed even the person who turned her. His father had seen it happen and had protected his mate, Lance’s mother, from the wild beast’s rampage.
When he took over for his father, Lance swore he’d never allow his wolves to compromise themselves or a human in such a way. “No. It’s not for me to decide. When she is healthy enough, I will give her the choice of staying human or changing.”
Caleb nodded. “She should be fine within the week. I don’t believe her arm is broken, just badly bruised. Her head though…possibly a slight concussion. There’s a knot at the back. It appears part of a previous injury already healing. She’s lucky to be alive.”
Didn’t he know it. “What do you need for her?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I have it all with me. Helps when I’m getting off rotation at the hospital.” He grinned at his alpha. “I’ll leave you a bottle of pain pills for her arm and head. Make sure she takes one every six hours. She should stay in bed for the next couple days. Low light to keep headaches to a minimum. The swelling around her eyes will take a few days to go down, but she should be right as rain in a week or so.”
Plenty of time to find the bastard responsible. “Good. That’s what I wanted to hear.”
3
I’ll always find you. Amity shot up in bed with a gasp. Pain ricocheted through her body, causing her to groan and reach for her head. The incessant throbbing returned with a vengeance, something she’d grown accustomed to. She peeled open her eyes, trying to figure out where the hell she was, but the bright light increased the sharp stabbing ache. The room spun momentarily, then righted itself as she tried again to figure out where she’d ended up.
The last thing she remembered had been the slick, icy road and a vehicle following too closely behind her. Javier. Her heart started to pound. She needed to get out of there. She needed to run. He found her. Yet, when she opened her eyes once more, the light, not as bright as before, made her realize she wasn’t home.
Where am I? The harder she tried to remember what happened, the more her brain put the brakes on her memories. She glanced down at her arm wrapped in a sling and noticed the gray T-shirt she wore. How in the world? On the table next to her sat a glass of water and two white pills. The idea of taking both didn’t sit well with her. She needed to be able to think and move if Javier showed up, or worse, waited for her somewhere in this house.
Amity took one pill then pushed back the covers of the bed. Had she been so out of it, she hadn’t realized someone had undressed her and put her to bed? Her legs were dotted with bruises, some were big and others small. The handprint on her upper thigh from where Javier had grabbed her during their last fight had turned green and yellow around the edges. Tears stung her nose and gathered in the corners of her eyes. How had her life become such a shit pile? Why her?
She’d never thrown herself a pity party before, but now it seemed appropriate. She hurt from head to toe, and her injuries from the last attack hadn’t even healed before he came after her again. She ran a shaky hand through her hair and hissed when she came in contact with glass. Great. Just fucking great. Whoever had her hadn’t even cleaned her up. What the fuck is wrong with people?
The fight or flight instincts she’d relied on for the last six months kicked in. She needed to get dressed and get the hell out of there. Amity glanced at the chair across from her and found a stack of clothes. They weren’t hers, by any means, but they’d do in a pinch. And where do you think you’ll go? Her car had to have been trashed. Plus, she didn’t even know where it was. She didn’t have her purse or her phone, though the chances of it working were slim to none.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She covered herself and slipped down into the blankets, pretending to be asleep. The less she said, the better off she’d be in this situation, at least until she could get her bearings. The door opened and the heavy cadence of footfalls grew near. “I know you’re awake, miss. I’m a friend.”
Bullshit. No one was her friend. They could be bought by Javier and pumped for information on where she was and how she got there. She didn’t move.
“I’m Sheriff Lance Wingham. I found you on the side of Highway 35. You’re at my home. The doctor said you should be fine, and I see you’ve already taken one of the pain pills the doctor left. I brought a breakfast tray for you, if you’re hungry.”
Her belly gave an appreciative growl. She cursed her wayward stomach for giving her away. “Where’s Javier?”
“Who?”
She opened her eyes, ready to give him a tongue lashing about playing stupid when she paused. The man was a sight to behold and overwhelming. Short sandy-blond hair framed ruggedly handsome features. His cool, gray eyes assessed her while his full lips were pursed and the muscle at his jaw ticked with tension.
Broad shoulders gave way to a tapered waist and legs built for power. Heat licked at her insides as arousal fluttered low in her belly. This man was dangerous and she didn’t care. “Javier. He…he’s trying to kill me.” She dipped her head, unable to hold the man’s commanding stare. “I’m Amity…Amity Jones.”
“It’s good to meet you, Amity.” He sat on the edge of the bed, the tray of food still in his hands. “I haven’t found him yet. But he won’t get far.” He placed the tray in front of her. “Eat. You need your strength.”
She glanced at the platter on the tray before her and groaned. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, and potatoes. Along with juice and coffee. A home cooked meal, something she hadn’t had in months. “Thank you. Where am I?” She grabbed a piece of bacon and chomped down. The involuntary moan falling from her lips embarrassed her, but if he noticed, he didn’t say a word.
“You’re in Rosewood.”
An image of a snow covered wooden sign flashed through her mind. “I saw the sign.”
“I’m guessing you hadn’t meant to stop here?”
“Well…the storm.” She shrugged. “I had to stop or get stuck in it.”
“You’ve been here three days.”
The bacon settled in her stomach like a lead weight. “Three days?”
“Caleb said to let you sleep as much as you needed. Darlin’, you looked rough when I got you here.”
The way “darlin’” rolled off his tongue had her insides turning to goo. “I see. And my car?”
