Running with the Pack: Cannon Pack, Book 3

by Beverly Rae

  Figures that John would want to keep going. Biting her tongue, she kept her irritation from boiling over. John cared more about killing the werewolf than about her. But that was okay since she cared more about the shifter getting away than about her so-called boyfriend. Their relationship had started downhill last year, but she hadn’t let him know how she felt. Keeping their relationship, after all, was part of her cover.

  The hunters gathered around her, asking her to tell them what was wrong, doing their best to render aid. At last, John strolled over and knelt beside her.

  “What happened?”

  Super. No “Can I help you, babe?” Not that Lauren should’ve expected any real concern. But she’d expected at least a sincere attempt at faking it. She rubbed her leg and let out as pitiful a moan as she could muster. Right now she had to think of the escaping shifter. The longer she stalled the hunters, the better the shifter’s chances.

  “I don’t know. I was running along and, without warning, this pain shot through my leg. The next thing I knew, I was face first on the pavement.”

  John nodded but was already turning to gaze in the direction the shifter had gone. “Uh-huh. Yeah, that sucks.” He stood, leaving her reaching for him. “Charlie, take care of her, okay? Guys, let’s get going before the beast gets too far ahead of us.”

  The man had a cold streak in him. She’d thought about breaking up with him ever since she’d come to see shifters for what they really were, but she’d cared for him. Maybe one day he’d understand what she now did: shifters were humans, too. However, the lack of consideration for her injury—fake or not—cinched the deal. Shifters or no shifters, she was so over him.

  Nonetheless, she’d have to take her time until she could ease her way out of the relationship while still remaining part of the group.

  “No, John. I need you.” Like hell she did. He started to move away, but she grabbed his pant leg and held on. “Stay with me.”

  Damn, she hated to beg, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do. Short of throwing her naked body at him. Hell, even that might not stop him. She could almost see it now.

  Lauren tore material, popped buttons, ridding her body of every stitch of clothing. The hunters leered at her, but John stood quietly gazing at her naked body, not showing any indication of arousal.

  “John, take me. I’m yours.” She pushed her breasts together and flicked her tongue over a nipple. “What are you waiting for, my big, strong hunter-man?”

  John shook his head. “Not now, babe. I have a shifter to kill.” Ignoring her protests, he waved for the men to follow him and took off at a sprint, leaving Lauren naked and alone.

  John shook her off. “Charlie will stay to keep you company. We’ll come back for you once we’ve caught the animal. Good thing I shot it or we wouldn’t have a chance in hell of catching it now. We still may not.”

  Only her agonized—and totally dramatic—scream kept him from striding away. “Oh, my God, I think I’m dying.” She’d better watch it and not take the dramatics too far. After all, Meryl Streep she wasn’t. But then again, Meryl never had to act with the likes of John. Whimpering, she put on her saddest look, aimed it directly at him and hoped he didn’t have a defense against her pitiful face. If the man didn’t take the bait, she’d have to seriously consider trying the buck-naked idea.

  The urgency in his expression faded, replaced by resolute resignation. “Aw, crap.” Kneeling by her side, he ran his hand along her leg. “Can you walk?”

  “I-I don’t know.” Lauren grimaced, then changed her expression to a stoic one. With a sigh, she gripped her someday-to-be ex’s arm and tried to stand.

  “Good girl. You made it. See? All better, right?”

  Little did he know. She took a step—or rather a contrived hobble—and whined. “No, I’m not all better. It really hurts, John.” Was it her acting that sucked? Or just him?

  “Maybe she needs to go to the hospital?” Luke, the quiet one of the bunch, gave her a sympathetic look.

  “Oh, gosh. I don’t think so. I mean, it’s not that bad.” She leaned against John and beseeched him with her best doleful eyes. The things she’d do to save a shifter! “I just need a little TLC from my big, handsome man. Please, John, take me back to my place. I’m sure with some ice or heat or whatever you’re supposed to do with sprains, I’ll be fine soon enough. Especially if you’re taking care of me.” She had to trust that the shifter had plenty of time to get away. Unless its wound had slowed it down—or worse.

  “Oh, all right. If that’s what you want. But stop the bitchin’, okay?” Again, John’s attention drifted toward the dark alley where the werewolf had gone.

  What did she have to do to get this guy’s full attention? Perform magic? Give him a BJ? She placed a hand on his cheek and pulled his focus back to her.

  “Ooh, John, it’s really hurting. Take me home. Now. Puh-lease?” Batting her eyes, she flirted, promising him more than she ever planned on giving him. God help her if he tried to take her up on her promise. For extra benefit, she lowered a pitiable look on Luke.

  “Go ahead, John. The creature’s gone anyway.”

  “Luke’s right. We’ll have to continue the hunt some other night.” Charlie grumbled under his breath.

  She kept silent, watching John’s decision play out on his features.

  At last, he let out a frustrated groan. “Fine. Let’s call it a night, men.”

  Score one for the shifter and zero for the hunters. Lauren nodded, acting disappointed and guilty at the same time, and let John wrap his arm around her waist to steady her on the way back to their vehicles. With their goodbyes said, she scooted into John’s Jeep.

  “Hey, is your leg doing better?”

  “Huh?” She glanced down. Not thinking, she’d tucked it under her other leg in the half-cross-legged position she always used. “Yeah, it is. Maybe I just wrenched it a little.” She made a show of stretching out the leg and flexing her foot. “It still hurts but not nearly as much as when I stand on it. I’m sure I’ll be fine once I get home and off my feet for a bit.” John’s brow furrowed in thought and she had to smother a smirk. Maybe she was a better actress than she thought. Either that, or he was dumber than she realized.

  “Yeah.” He slid into the driver’s seat. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  Lauren inwardly winced at the softness in John’s eyes. Here was the man she’d once liked. The man she’d, at one time, wanted more than anyone else. But she couldn’t stay his girlfriend much longer. Too much had changed between them. Too much had changed in her.

  Hell, now she felt like a real jerk. John still cared for her. Could he help it if he hadn’t figured out that shifters weren’t the evil beasts everyone thought they were? She hadn’t known either. At least not until she’d gotten close to the werewolf she’d killed. Maybe if he’d seen the terror in the werewolf’s eyes, actually spoken with her, he’d understand like she did. Maybe then he’d help her keep them safe. Or at least stop hunting them. She reconsidered telling John about her change of heart but, like the thousands of times before, decided she couldn’t take the risk. If he didn’t understand, he’d kick her out of the group, destroying her chances to help the werewolves.

  Each hunt was getting harder to sabotage and she was running out of ideas. So far, she’d managed to thwart their hunts by planning ahead, but now she was resorting to stunts like pretending to hurt her leg. She smiled, remembering the stunned expressions on the hunters’ faces when she’d anonymously alerted the cops to their dangerous hunts. If one of the cops hadn’t been a friend of John’s, the hunters might have ended up in jail. That one trick had kept the group off the streets for three months until the heat finally died down. Maybe she should try calling the police again.

  “Lauren, are you okay? You drifted away for a minute.”

  She placed her palm on his cheek again. But this time she meant the endearing gesture. “Yeah, I’m good. I just need some rest.” But the rest would hav
e to wait until she found the wounded shifter.

  Chapter Two

  John hung around, waiting to make good on Lauren’s earlier flirty promise. But she wouldn’t sleep with him, hadn’t slept with him for two months. How could she when she planned on dumping him? She finally pushed him out the door an hour later, then peeked from behind the curtain and watched him hop into his Jeep.

  Good. Now she could get a move on. Although the likelihood of finding the wounded shifter was iffy at best, she had to try. Failing to keep the hunters away from the werewolf before John had shot it frustrated her, and she owed it to the shifter to help as much as she could.

  Lauren shrugged on her jacket, picked up the satchel she kept filled with medical supplies and extra clothing, then slipped into her battered-yet-trusty Beetle. Night was in full swing and although the moonless sky would make it more difficult for her to find the shifter, it would also give her cover, hiding her from any other hunters searching for prey.

  Making sure no one was around, Lauren slipped the gun over her shoulder, darted into the dark alley, and prayed she could get the werewolf to listen to her. She found the location where she’d had her “accident” and continued into the adjacent pathway. Breathing in the cool night air, she paused, gathered her bearings and took her best guess as to where the shifter had fled. Her flashlight’s beam streamed across the ground, and she moved slowly, checking for blood spots and finding enough to help her track the animal. Thankfully, however, the red splotches weren’t as big as she’d feared.

  “Where are you, shifter? Don’t worry. I don’t mean you any harm.” Like a shifter would believe her after seeing her with a group of hunters. Still, she hoped she’d get lucky and the werewolf wouldn’t recognize her. Lauren pushed on, scanning the area in case the wounded animal hid behind stacks of boxes, crouched and ready to attack. She hunched her collar around her neck, shielding herself from the cool night air. Putting one foot in front of the other, she gripped her rifle and prayed she wasn’t too late.

  A low growl froze Lauren to the spot, and she cautiously turned to face the threatening sound.

  “Hello? It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” Her nerves jangled, bringing a giggle to the surface. Oh, shit. Not now. At least act as though you’re not scared. The answering growl, louder than the first, did nothing to calm her nerves. “I know you saw me with the hunters, but I’m not one of them. In fact, I helped you get away and I’m here to help you again.” She waited, the silence worrying her more than the fierce growls. She giggled, her nerves taking over. “If I had a hunting license I’d tear it up. Would that convince you?” Another weak titter escaped her. If only she could stop giggling whenever she was frightened. “Sorry. Bad joke.” Going all in, she took a deep breath and decided to take a big leap of faith. “I’m going to come over there, okay? Again, I won’t hurt you. Will you promise not to hurt me?”

  “I don’t promise scumbag hunters anything. Go away while you still have your skin.”

  Although that wasn’t the answer she wanted, at least it was an answer instead of an attack. She bit her lower lip to keep another giggle from popping out, then pushed away the fear edging along her backbone and took a step forward.

  “Will it help if I put my gun on the ground?” She dropped her satchel and gently placed her rifle beside it on the dirty payment, then raised her arms, palms facing toward the unseen shifter. “See? No gun. Now, will you let me get closer?” What else could she do to get the werewolf to believe she meant her no harm? “I’m Lauren and I’m a friend. How about telling me your name?”

  “Why the hell would you want to know my name? To put it on a nameplate under my hide?” After a long period of quiet, the shifter let out a tortured moan. “Do yourself a favor and stay away.”

  At least the shifter hadn’t tried to attack her. If, that is, she was able to.

  “I’m only here to help. I know you don’t trust me, but I’m telling you the truth.” Maybe if she’d worn a mood ring… Another giggle escaped her. Damn.

  “I saw you with them.”

  “You’re right. I was with the hunters and I admit it. But I’m not really a hunter. I go on hunts with them so I can try to help people like you.” She took a step nearer, then paused, waited for the shifter to tell her to stop, then took another step. “Are you able to come out from behind there? Or do you want me to come to you?”

  “First you laugh at me and now you want to get closer? You must have a death wish, hunter.”

  Lauren heard the pain of the human inside the animal. She smiled reassuringly and forced herself to relax. Or at least look like she was. “I can see how you’d think that. And I’m sorry about the giggles. But I can’t help it. I do that when I’m nervous.” So much for acting relaxed.

  Knowing she risked her life, Lauren walked around the boxes and peered into the darkness. Brilliant amber eyes locked on to her, making her pulse jump in an uneven rhythm. She had to keep the connection and make her believe. She wasn’t sure how long they stared at each other but, at last, the werewolf blinked and crawled from behind her barricade. Lauren knelt beside the animal and flashed her light along its front flank. “Where are you hurt?”

  “Why? So you can shoot me in a different spot?”

  A deep breath helped to calm her down. “I put my gun down, remember?” All she could do was hope the werewolf would sense her sincerity.

  The shifter answered with a guttural sound, then motioned with her head toward her rear flank. Lauren swung the light on the area and resisted the urge to gasp. Blood covered her, tracking a bright path from her hindquarters and down her leg to run between her claws. Abruptly, an image of another wounded shifter broke into Lauren’s memory.

  Blood oozed from the fatal wound, gushing from the open hole in the werewolf’s chest with each labored pant she took. Her breath came out in ragged puffs, spittle inching from the corner of her jaw. Cold horror filled the werewolf’s eyes and a defiant snarl drew back her lips. Her ears lay back and she tried to lift her head, tried to get up, but couldn’t. Other bullet wounds scattered over her lean body drew the strength from her, spilling her life’s blood to the ground around her, but she held on.

  “No, please!” Her breaths, harsh puffs of air, accentuated the anger behind her words.

  Lauren had known werewolves could speak, yet she hadn’t believed it until now. Her pulse quickened. She certainly hadn’t expected to hear such a human voice coming from an animal. The shifter’s plea wrenched her heart. She reached out to touch the dying shifter, to apologize, to give her comfort. If only she’d known the truth…

  Lauren jolted at the touch on her shoulder and snatched back her hand. She could sense John lifting his gun to aim, knew she needed to stop him, but couldn’t. “No, John. Don’t.”

  The echo of the rifle’s retort shook her.

  Lauren squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that at least in her memory’s eye, she could block out the vision of the shifter’s face shattering into bits of blood, flesh and fur.

  “Go away.”

  Lauren’s shudder worked the memory out of her body so she could finally open her eyes. Retrieving the duffel bag, she held up her hands at the shifter’s warning growl, then carefully dug out the disinfectant and gauze, placing them on the ground beside her. “I need to clean and bandage your wound. Will you let me? Although I know you heal faster in animal form, if you became human again, I could take you to the hospital.”

  “And how would you explain the gunshot wound?” The wolfish lips pulled back into a grimace. “Like I’d ever make it that far.”

  If only the shifter would be reasonable and let her take care of her. “Okay, if you don’t want medical help, how about getting help from your friends?” She slipped a hand into her pocket and brought out her cell phone. “Give me a number and I’ll call for you.”

  The shifter’s laugh was low and mean. “Do you think I’m stupid? You want me to call my friends so you and the other hunters can ambush them.”

>   “No, you’re wrong.” Putting the phone down, Lauren poured disinfectant over the gauze and pressed it to the wound. “You’ve got to let me help you. I don’t want to see you die.”

  The werewolf let out a long moan, but Lauren took encouragement from the fact that she didn’t say anything. Or was her wound sapping her strength too much to speak any longer?

  “Get away from her.”

  The warning was more growl than words, but Lauren understood. Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, she swiveled around to find a large black werewolf standing behind her, majestic and commanding. But it wasn’t fear that overwhelmed her. Holy shit, he’s amazing. Silky black hair covered his body with no marks of gray or white. The only color in his body came from his angry eyes and his long, white teeth. Her gaze slid down from the blazing amber eyes. Fangs. Big, mean, dripping-with-saliva fangs. She gathered her composure to speak. “I’m trying to help her.”

  “Like your kind helped her earlier?”

  His voice, low and masculine, sent shockwaves through her. He lowered his head another notch and glared at her. Yet, somehow, she wasn’t afraid.

  She couldn’t help wondering what his human voice would sound like. “No, you don’t understand. I’m here to help her.”

  He glanced at the rifle on the ground, then tilted his head at her. “Is that why you brought a gun along? To help her by putting her out of her misery?”

  She gritted her teeth and fought back a string of curse words. Forget amazing. Now he was just irritating. “Would it be on the ground if that were my intention? I don’t know how long you’ve been watching, but—”

  “Long enough.” He snarled, pulling back his gums to show more fangs. “Get away, hunter, before I forget to restrain myself and tear you apart.”