Lolly was a living miracle, an animal Ava had saved. Now a madman mocked Lolly’s goodness by putting his evil hands on her. “Stop mauling my kitten!”
His hand stilled. The gun hovering near her cheek was turned on Lolly. “Drive,” he said. “Or the cat gets it.”
Ava resumed her seat and clutched the steering wheel. Lolly’s only an animal, she told herself as she released the brake and pulled the car onto the highway. But it wasn’t true. No. Lolly was her baby, her companion, and her friend. When people found out she’d given up her life for a cat, she would be a Wellsford legend. She straightened her shoulders. She wouldn’t let despair overwhelm her. There had to be some way to save Lolly. And herself.
BO SILENTLY APOLOGIZED to the kitten, who thought the gun made a neat toy. He pulled the barrel out of the feline’s claws and rubbed its tiny head. What was with this lady? One minute, she demanded to be shot to keep her virtue intact. The next, she put her fate into his hands to save a cat.
“I’ll take you as far as the next hill,” she said. “Then you have to get out.”
Her audacity was appalling. She obviously had no real survival instincts. What if a real criminal had been sitting in this car with a gun pointed at her? “I need a place to stay for a while.”
“My house is not the Ramada Inn.”
Was she stupid or just insane? Maybe I should drive and keep her close before she does something really dumb. He leaned forward, pressing the Magnum under her chin and regretted the shuddering breath she inhaled. “Pull over.”
She did so. The road cut into a dense forest that prevented moonlight. No street lights dotted this stretch of desolation. The darkness crept around them, closing them into a thick silence…except for the woman’s quick, jagged inhalations.
Was she panicking or something worse? “What’s wrong with you?”
She didn’t answer. Her breathing worsened, almost disappearing. She gasped and wheezed. Bo withdrew the gun then reached above him and flicked on the dome light. In the rearview mirror, he saw her pale face, her brown eyes wide and dilated. Her lips looked blue.
“Asthma,” she whispered. “Medicine.”
“Where?”
“House.”
Bo didn’t hesitate. Dumping the kitten onto the floor, he got out and opened the driver’s side door. The woman’s face was stricken, and her hands clawed at her throat.
“Please. Don’t. Leave. Me.”
“I WON’T,” BO said. He put the gun in the back of his jeans then lifted her out of the car. Tears welled in her eyes and guilt sliced through him. He hated that this woman thought he was capable of leaving her to die. He placed her in the back seat and wiped the wetness from her face.
“Can you help me get to your house?”
She nodded. Damn, she looked bad. The terrible rasping scared him. He shut the door, jumped into the driver’s seat and gunned the engine, spinning gravel as he pulled the vehicle onto the road.
“Next left,” she managed to gasp. “Two miles.”
“Okay. Hang on and keep breathing.” Bo almost missed the turn, but he whipped a quick left onto the bumpy dirt road. He pressed the accelerator to the floor.
The cabin’s outside light flared brightly in the dark. Bo pulled up next to the long, flat porch, killed the engine, took the keys, and got out. He gathered the woman into his arms and hurried to the door. “Which key?”
“Gold,” she rasped.
Bo inserted the key and pushed open the door. He barely had time to register the homey surroundings, but he was grateful for the soft glow of lamps. He placed the lady onto the puffy tan couch and bent down. “Where’s the medicine?”
“Kitchen. Drawer.”
“Which one?”
She shook her head, her terrified gaze cutting him to the core. He took her ice-cold hands and squeezed reassuringly. “C’mon, sweetheart. Which drawer?”
“Stove.”
Four long strides to the right put him in the small kitchen. Only one drawer was by the stove. He yanked it out and took it to the couch. He watched her choose a small box, withdraw an inhaler, and greedily suck it in four times.
Eons passed before the wheezing stopped. Her face regained some color, and she straightened on the couch. “Thank you. You could have left me to die.”
“No, I couldn’t.”
He met her surprised gaze, and he knew she’d seen his concern.
“My name is Avalina, but most folks call me Ava.”
“I’m Bo. Bo Brown.” He turned abruptly and checked out the cabin. The large living room took up most of the space. The couch Ava sat on faced a huge stone fireplace. Two wingbacks graced each side of the couch. Bookshelves lined the walls and overflowed with hardcovers, magazines, and papers. The kitchen was on the right, and just off it, was a breakfast nook with enough space for a small table and two chairs.
Opposite the living room was a door. He opened it and flicked on the light. A huge four-poster bed with fluffy pillows and thick quilts occupied the center of the room. Next to the bed, he noted the elegant antique table piled with paperbacks. The only other piece of furniture was an enormous dresser. She’d crowded the top with photos, knick-knacks, and—surprise—books. He figured the door to the right of the bed led to the bathroom.
He returned to the couch and found Ava’s eyes closed as she slowly drew in breaths. His heart skipped a beat. She wore little make-up on her heart-shaped face, and her alabaster skin—smooth as silk—certainly didn’t need any enhancements. Long, chestnut-colored hair swirled around her shoulders. She was a tiny thing, too, with a backbone of steel. She smelled like spring flowers. She was a beauty, this hostage he’d claimed. Under any other circumstances…
He sighed then took the gun from his jeans and placed it on the burnished wood coffee table. It was a gesture of trust. He hoped she understood the message. Then he went to the car, grabbed the cat, and the food. He brought the cat to Ava and put the cans on the kitchen counter.
“Do you have a television?” he asked.
“I don’t own a television. It weakens the mind.” She looked at him. “You must watch a lot of it.”
Bo grinned, relieved she felt well enough to insult him. “How about a land line or a cell phone?”
“No.”
“A computer?”
She shook her head. “I choose to live simply.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in return. “You’re an asthmatic with no way to reach emergency services?”
She stared at him, a stubborn glint in her eyes. He suspected she had a way to contact someone if necessary, but she wouldn’t tell him. Why should she? He’d kidnapped her. Bo rubbed his chin. No TV, phone, or computer. That left one thing to do while he thought about his options. “I’ll make dinner.”
He went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He pulled out mushrooms, onions, carrots, broccoli and cauliflower. He found some soy sauce and a decent frying pan that would serve as a wok. He chopped the veggies as the pan heated on the gas stove.
“I was defrosting meat patties for hamburgers,” Ava called from the living room.
“I don’t eat meat,” Bo responded, pouring sauce into the pan. “You want to be a carnivore, you’ll have to cook it yourself.”
“You’re a vegetarian?”
“Vegan.” His sisters loved to teased him about being a vegan werewolf, but he’d made the choice at the age of eight—the night he watched his father die at the hands of human predators. And, of course, all the horror that came afterwards. John Brown hadn’t been a werewolf, but he’d fallen in love with one. Bo had never known his biological mother—she only stuck around long enough to give birth to him. His dad had raised him the best he could, especially given that his son turned out to be more shifter than human. Bo had been taken in by the Winter Pack after his father’s death and adopted by a loving mother with three daughters, two younger than him, and one that had only been a year older. His family. The one now trapped by th
e mayor and his cronies.
“We kill plants to eat them,” said Ava.
“Plants don’t have eyes,” Bo said, throwing the vegetables into the sizzling hot pan. “Eyes are windows to the souls. And animals have souls.”
Bo found the plates and distributed food to each one. Lolly rubbed against his legs and yowled. “Yes, your highness.” He plated her cat food and put it on the floor.
After they finished their meals, he cleaned up the kitchen, returned to the living room, and started a fire, then settled next to Ava on the couch. Lolly was a ball white fluff in her lap.
“You said you needed help.” Her gaze traveled from the gun on the coffee table to his face. Her direct gaze disconcerted him. Her brown eyes held a shadow of fear, but the main emotion he discerned was confusion. She appeared to be trying to puzzle out how he’d gone from carjacker to dinner guest.
Bo glanced away, trying to quell the prickling awareness of desire he felt for this woman. His attraction to her was unexpected and unwanted. He stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace. “My father loved animals. He worked with rescue organizations his whole life to save the lost ones. The abused ones. My dad taught me to respect all life.”
“You were never going to shoot me.”
He blanched. “No.”
“Why didn’t you just ask for a ride? Or for whatever help you needed. Plenty of folks in Wellsford would hand you the shirt right off their backs.”
“I didn’t know who to trust.”
Ava seemed perplexed by the comment.
“Look, I understand why you think people in Wellsford would be helpful. I live in Wolf Spirit, Alaska. It’s a tiny community with very nice folks. People you can count on.”
As she thought about his answer, her mouth puckered in a way that made Bo’s skin prickle with heat.
“Why did you come to Wellsford?” she asked.
He studied her and knew, on a gut level, he could tell her the truth. He wasn’t sure if she’d help him, but she’d been willing to fight for Lolly’s life. That said something about her character. Or maybe her mental state. A woman who would give up her own life to save that of a kitten might be a little crazy.
But that was the kind of crazy he understood.
And admired.
“What do you think about werewolves?”
Ava lifted an eyebrow. “Depends. What do you think?”
Her voice held disbelief. Most humans didn’t realize shifters lived among them. Werewolves usually created communities outside of human-populated cities, but plenty of shifters lived among their lesser brethren. The key was finding out whether or not Ava was among those who knew shifters existed. If her expression was any indication … well, he didn’t have a lot of hope she’d believe him.
Unless he showed her.
He couldn’t do that until the effects of the silver had worn off. Given his exhaustion at this moment, he didn’t think he’d be able to shift.
“I’m not crazy,” he said. “Werewolves are real. And there are other kinds of shifters out there, too.”
“I know.”
Surprised, Bo looked at her. “You do?”
“A small pack used to live nearby. Around fifty members. The Shepards have lived here practically since Wellsford was founded, and my grandparents said the werewolves had been here long before the humans built the town.”
“The pack left?” Bo frowned. Why would a pack that had been in the area for generations leave its territory? Oregon fell into the general domain of the Winter Pack, but the individual packs didn’t rely on a central command structure—not like the Shadow or Moon Packs used. Winter Pack werewolves tended to stay in small groups and live in forested areas. All the same, he was surprised to learn that werewolves, once part of the Wellsford’s community, had abandoned a long-held site.
“A few years back there was some trouble between the pack and the townsfolk. It was a Romeo and Juliet kind of a situation—a human girl with a werewolf boyfriend. They committed suicide together.” Ava shook her head. “It happened the year I went to college, so I wasn’t here. My grandfather told me the werewolves decided it would be better for everyone if they relocated.”
Bo had a sick feeling in his stomach. “I don’t know if that’s true, Ava.”
“What?” She frowned at him, her eyebrows crinkling in the most adorable way.
Stop admiring her, you idiot.
Bo dragged his thoughts from the charming Ava back to the matter at hand. His mother and sisters had gone to Seattle for a week of fun and relaxation. He honestly hadn’t paid much attention to the talk of spa treatments and shopping plans. He had made sure they knew about the local shifter contacts in case they had an emergency, and he’d used Google Earth to survey the shifter parks—secret locations where shifters could freely and safely roam in their other forms. These parks were considering neutral zones, so anyone using the parks usually behaved.
The third day of their Seattle trip, Bo didn’t get a single phone call. As a freelance website and graphic designer, he’d been at the tail end of an intense project, so it was three o’clock in the morning before he’d come up for air. Only then had he realized he hadn’t gotten the daily safety-check phone call from Mom.
He’d tried to call her right away, figuring he’d rather know she was okay even it meant pissing her off. He’d been sent directly to voicemail. He was very, very protective of his family, and for the umpteenth time since they left for Seattle, he’d regretted not going with them. When he couldn’t contact his mother or his sisters … he got the first flight to Washington.
“My mom and my sisters disappeared from Seattle a couple of days ago. I tracked them here—to Wellsford. I found them at a place north of town. It looks like a military compound.”
“Ryer Benson’s place. Everyone knows Ryer is one taco short of a combo platter. He’s a survivalist. He teaches people how to prep for the end of the world, that kind of thing. He doesn’t bother folks, though. Why on earth would he kidnap shifters from Seattle?”
“That’s not a survivalist camp, Ava. Benson’s place is a hunting ground.”
AVA WAS QUICK-MINDED. Obviously, she thought about his accusation and tracked it all the way back to when local pack left the area. She paled, bringing her hand up to her throat. “Oh, God. Cranfield Morgan’s daughter was the one who died. He’s the mayor now.”
Yeah. Bo had the displeasure of meeting Mayor Morgan just a couple hours before. After Bo had gone to the police to report that his kidnapped family was imprisoned in a concrete bunker with more security than the Pentagon, he’d been taken to the mayor’s office. Morgan had actually laughed as he explained his sick scheme: recruiting wealthy humans looking for illegal thrills to hunt and kill shifters. The arrogant bastard even admitted that he’d injected an experimental drug into the shifters to keep them in their animal forms.
Luckily for Bo, the assholes kept that poison at the compound. After, they’d knocked him unconscious, tied him up, and tossed him into the car. If he hadn’t awakened in the back seat—no one could’ve helped him or his family.
Now Ava was his only hope to save his mom and sisters—and the other shifters trapped at that shithole compound.
Ava cleared her throat. “Cranfield lost his wife when Missy was two. She was his only child. He took her death pretty hard.”
“He took it further than that,” said Bo. “His grief must’ve turned to hatred. His vengeance is driving him to kill shifters. The money’s probably icing on the cake.”
“Do you think he … he did something to the pack?” asked Ava softly, only mild disbelief in her expression.
God, he hated to shatter her illusions about the mayor and the police of Wellsford. She’d grown up in Wellsford and thought she knew her hometown and its citizens. Breaking her heart was the last thing he ever wanted to do, but he wouldn’t keep the truth from Ava.
“I smelled werewolf blood all over that place. The scent of death is everywhere, too. I found t
he burial site. It’s a pit filled with bones and decaying shifter bodies.” He swallowed the knot of grief lodged in his throat. “The heads were missing.”
“Oh, God.” She bent her head and sucked in a shaky breath. “This can’t be true. It’s too awful.”
Bo could do nothing but wait for her response, his heart pounding with dread. What if she thought his story was bullshit, and she found a way to contact the police? He glanced at her, tension cording his muscles.
Finally, she nodded and met his stare again. “I could see the violence in Cranfield,” she said reluctantly. “The way anger burned in his eyes even when he was smiling. He used his own money to supplement our tiny police force, but he hired outsiders.” Her mouth turned down at the corners. “The police chief retired, and then Rufus took over.”
“Rufus.” Bo moved toward her, his hands palms up in an open gesture. “That’s the guy that knocked me out and was taking me to the hunting site when I escaped.”
Ava grimaced at his words, but didn’t flinch as he drew closer. “I guess we all knew something was off-kilter, but we figured since Cranfield had lost his wife to cancer and his daughter to suicide, he deserved some slack on his decisions. Grief is a powerful thing.”
“Yes,” said Bo. He remembered too well how hatred for humans had burned inside him like a growing, hungry flame after his father died. But between his adopted mother’s nurturing and the Winter Pack alpha mentoring, he’d eventually found peace. He’d learned to forgive. He sat down on the couch near Ava, but with enough distance to be non-threatening. “But so is love. Love can conquer almost anything.”
“Almost?”
“It’s too late for Cranfield. Trust me when I say he’s a heartless prick.”
She pressed her lips together, as though to stop them from trembling, then she nodded. “We must stop the mayor,” she said decisively. “And we need to rescue the shifters.” She reached over and placed a shaking hand on his. “We need to rescue your family.”
“None of which we can do tonight,” said Bo, frustrated, trying to ignore how much her cool touch heated his blood. “I need to call the alpha. He’ll be able to send reinforcements.”
The Pack Rules Boxed Set: The Complete Series of Wolf, Bear, and Dragon Shifter Romances Page 51
