Running with the Pack: Cannon Pack, Book 3

by Beverly Rae

“You’ve got this all wrong.” Lauren showed him the phone. “Do you think I planned on killing her with a cell phone? What? Am I going to talk her to death? You know, the old death-by-dial-tone execution method? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  For a second, she would’ve sworn the animal smiled.

  “There she is. Oh, my God, she’s trapped between two of them!”

  Three hunters, rifles at the ready, ran toward them with John in the lead. “Hang on, everyone. Hold your fire until she’s out of the way.”

  Growling, the beautiful black werewolf took one look at the approaching hunters, then dashed past her. She gawked at the hunters, too stunned to do anything else.

  “Move, Lauren. They’re getting away.” John roughly thrust her out of the way, slamming her into the alley’s brick wall.

  “Ow!” She recovered and rushed to grab her gun. “What are you doing here?” By the time she was up and running, the other hunters had passed her and were in hot pursuit of the two shifters who had a huge head start on them. Crap, hadn’t they already done this chasing routine tonight? She let out an expletive and charged after them. “No, wait!” How had the hunters known where to find her? Had John doubled back to her home and followed her?

  They pursued the shifters for another block with the hunters gaining ground. The growing bloodstains on the pavement quickened Lauren’s breath and hastened her pace. From the amount of blood, the injured werewolf wouldn’t last much longer. Lauren had to do something.

  Skidding to a stop, she lifted her rifle and pointed it straight into the air. Please, God, let this work without hitting anything. The shot rang out, startling the hunters. They ducked and covered their heads, muttering surprised curses. The shifters, however, kept going, lengthening their lead, then disappearing around a corner.

  “Are you out of your mind?” John stormed toward her, his face a mask of fury. “You know better than to shoot over the heads of other hunters. Or at least I thought you did.”

  “I-I’m so sorry, John. I didn’t think. I just got caught up in the excitement.” Did he truly believe she didn’t know any better?

  “What the hell are you doing out here anyway?”

  “I thought that if I killed her myself, then maybe everyone would forgive me for screwing up the hunt. How did you know where to find me?” She studied his face, daring to catch him in a lie.

  “I didn’t.” He shot her an exasperated look and shouted for the others. “There’s no use going after them. They’re long gone.” Giving her another withering look, he added under his breath, “Thanks to you.”

  She smothered a self-satisfied grin and instead tried to appear as remorseful as she could. “I know, I know. Again, I’m sorry.” He hadn’t answered her question, but she let it go, hoping to avoid having to answer more of his questions.

  “Tell that to them.” John turned his attention to the questions of the others, leaving her to worry that she’d gone too far.

  “How’s Mysta doing, Tucker?” Daniel kept his voice low and his phone pressed against his ear. No need to let the humans surrounding him overhear his conversation. Especially when talking about an injured shifter.

  “She’s still out of it. Good thing you brought her to the house last night before she bled out. She’s lost a lot of blood. Hopefully, she’ll stay in werewolf form so she can heal faster.”

  “Has she said anything about what happened? How they managed to corner her twice?”

  “Naw. She hasn’t come to since last night and most of what she said then didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Except that the woman found her. Her memory seems kind of mixed up after that.”

  Daniel gestured to Roland, the manager of The Lost Plate, one of many businesses the Cannon pack owned and operated, then slid into the big table in the back that was always reserved for pack members. The manager, a meek shifter, scurried to the table, clasped his hands and waited for Daniel to finish his phone conversation.

  “Mysta was lucky to get away in the first place. But to get away a second time? Close to a damn miracle.”

  “Yep, she’s one lucky shifter.”

  “Okay, then, make sure she gets whatever she needs.” Daniel punched off the phone. “Tell me, Roland, how’s business since the last time I was here?”

  “Business is up, Mr. Cannon, even in this lousy economy. As you can see, this is our rush hour.” He waved an arm toward the crowded room. “We’re always jam-packed at lunch.”

  Daniel nodded and tried to pay attention to what the man was saying. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

  Now if he could just get his mind off the female hunter.

  “Can I fetch your regular lunch for you, Mr. Cannon?”

  Daniel winced. “Roland, please. Haven’t we talked about the canine references? No fetch or other offensive words.”

  Roland nodded vigorously and rubbed his hands, eager and ready to serve. “Sure, sure. I remember. I forget sometimes. Please forgive me.” He sought out a nearby waitress, his hand shaking as he crooked a finger at her. “Sarah, get Mr. Cannon his coffee.” He shooed the gum-chewing waitress on her way to retrieve the pot. “Black coffee coming right up, Mr. Cannon.”

  “My regular lunch would be great. Oh, and Roland—” Daniel quirked an eyebrow at the trembling shifter, “—will you please relax? I told you. As long as business is good, you don’t have anything to worry about. And even then, you don’t have to be afraid for your safety. You’re one of us and I take care of my people.” He checked the tables around them, then whispered, “I’m not the kind of alpha you need to fear. And call me Daniel.”

  Roland nodded again, his bright eyes shimmering with gratitude. “Yes, Mr. Cannon. Thank you, Mr. Cannon. I mean, Daniel.”

  Sarah returned to pour a cup of steaming coffee, then set the pot on the table for his exclusive use. Roland bowed as he backed away.

  Being one of the leaders of the Cannon pack had its perks. Daniel sighed and watched the timid manager shuffle through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen. Roland’s last pack leader had been a real asshole, turning the slight shifter into a wuss. No matter how often Daniel told him, the poor guy refused to believe that he wouldn’t tear out his throat over the slightest infraction. Taking a sip, he let his mind wander and, like last night, was surprised at where it took him.

  The female hunter’s face had haunted him throughout the night, making sleep a precious commodity. The image of her, squatting close to the injured werewolf, struck him in the gut again. Not only because she’d approached Mysta alone, without her hunter friends—something he’d never seen a hunter do—but because of her body. She had all the curves he’d ever wanted in a woman and more. Although humans would probably consider her plump, he liked the roundness of her booty, the fullness of her breasts pushing against the material stretched over her bosom, the soft swell of her stomach. In fact, when he’d rounded the corner and found himself staring at her backside, he’d almost forgotten why he was there. Almost. Her hair was so curly. So silky. Or at least, that’s how it had looked. He wished he could’ve touched it, could’ve run the strands between his fingers. Her eyes were an amazing mix of dark cocoa and the soft brown of a deer. From the second he’d seen her, she’d fascinated him.

  Why the hell was he dreaming about a damn hunter? Yet he couldn’t shake the knowledge that he hadn’t thought once about Torrie in over twelve hours. Instead he’d fantasized about another woman, a hunter of all people. He dreamed of having her underneath him, sitting on top of him, bending over to open to him. A twist in his stomach warned him not to pursue this fantasy, but he didn’t heed his internal alarm.

  The huntress straddled him, her naked flesh shimmering with sweat. She grabbed his pecs, holding them firmly. Her breasts, temptingly perky, pressed together between her strong arms.

  “Let me suck on them.”

  She leaned lower, her wavy locks falling to frame her enchanting oval face. He took a nipple in his mouth, keeping his eyes on her lust-filled ones, w
atching to capture the moment she climaxed—again. When she did, her eyelashes fluttered, her eyes softly closing as she savored the moment of release. She made a soft mewing sound, flaming the heat in his abdomen to an even higher pitch.

  Growling against her breast, he slid into her and almost lost control when her walls closed around his shaft, gripping him, pulling on him. He kept his hands on her ample hips and helped her rise and fall against him, plunging deeper into her. She cried out and he clutched her firmer, first holding her to him, then forcing her to lean back. Bucking against him, she arched her back and held on to his legs.

  He licked his lips, mesmerized by the small triangle of hair above her pussy that tickled the slickened skin of his dick. Pacing himself, he thrust in and out, over and over. “I’m going to show you what fucking is really like, hunter. Together, we’re going to release the animal inside you.”

  “Make me yours.”

  He held his breath, caught unprepared for her request. “Do you want me to? You’ll change. Become pack.” Her breasts jiggled enticingly, drawing his attention away from her eyes. Palming them, he almost lost control, but gained it back before all was lost. Her eyes glistened, the lush russet lightening with amber. But how? She wasn’t a werewolf. Not yet.

  “I want to run with the pack, Daniel. Bite me and make me shifter.”

  He groaned, wanting more than anything to do as she wanted. “Are you sure?”

  “Do it.”

  Daniel grabbed her by the back of the neck, rose and flipped them, putting her underneath him. His incisors broke through, his inner beast thrashing to take her and make her his. Her wild eyes stared up at him, then, with a soft smile, she turned her head, exposing her neck. Growling, he bent to her and sank his fangs into her. She struggled against him, her natural instinct to survive taking over, but that soon gave way. Instead, she clung to him, digging her nails into his back, keeping him to her neck as his teeth sank deeper, claiming more. Several minutes passed, then he finally released her. She lay arms thrown out, her auburn hair splayed against the white pillow.

  “You’re pack now.” He licked the wound that was already healing. “You’re mine now.” Her silence unnerved him. “Are you all right?”

  She didn’t answer, didn’t seem to hear him. Instead, she sat up, laid her head back and howled.

  The fantasy broke apart, shattering her image into a million pieces and startling him back to reality. She howled? Talk about an idiotic daydream. Maybe Torrie’s death had affected him more than he’d thought, in a different way than he’d thought. Surely fantasizing about a hunter was a sign, right? Was he starting to lose it?

  He snarled, a tinge of lust layering his tone. The prim ladies at a nearby table, all of them pack members, turned to study him. The eldest lady watched him, considering him, amber flakes glistening in her dark eyes. Once he’d acknowledged her, she pointedly glanced around the room, taking in the many humans in the restaurant, a clear warning for him to take care.

  When these ladies were around, he needed to watch his step. Even alphas weren’t above the rules of the pack. The diminutive ladies couldn’t harm him physically, but he’d rather face an army of hunters than get on the wrong side of a granny howler. The stories he’d heard about how they exacted justice made slasher movies pale in comparison.

  “My sincerest apologies, ladies. I forgot where I was.”

  Her curt nod told him he was forgiven but that she wouldn’t brook another slip. Daniel took another sip of his coffee and used the movement to glance away. Scanning the room, his gaze fell on the front door and he choked, then sputtered his drink, again drawing an unwanted scowl from the elder shifter. He quickly ducked his head.

  What the hell was she doing here?

  Trying to appear nonchalant, he raised his head and found himself caught in a gaze of rich velvet. Her eyes drew him in and chased everyone, everything out of his awareness. The hunter was beautiful. Even more beautiful than he remembered. He took her in, memorizing every curve, each dimple in her cheeks, the rise and fall of her chest. The dress she wore, although not too tight, still showed her womanly shape to mouth-watering perfection, shortening his breath. Her legs, taking up a good portion of her body, were strong and smooth and he instantly envisioned them wrapped around him, holding him tightly, never letting him go. She smiled at Roland, a simple smile of greeting, but it almost tore his heart out knowing her smile was for someone else.

  She’s a hunter.

  Daniel closed his eyes, letting the thought take purchase and drive his desire away. Yes, she was a hunter and no matter what she looked like, how delectable she was, she was his enemy. Yet although his mind agreed, another part of him twisted in agony at the thought of never touching her. He gritted his teeth against the rush of desire and warned himself to think with the head on his shoulders.

  He took a moment to dab the napkin to his mouth, smiled at the elderly ladies and hoped his legs would hold him. No way would he let a hunter dine at a pack restaurant. Not even when she looked like this one.

  The expression on the approaching stranger’s face had Lauren checking behind her. Surely he wasn’t scowling at her. But with no one else near her, she had to accept that this incredible-looking man, dressed in black silk from his Italian shoes to his oh-so-form-fitting black shirt, was headed her way. His longish black hair curved under his ears, leading the eye to the kind of jaw line most men only wished they had, to a mouth any woman would spread her legs for a chance to nibble on. But it was his eyes that claimed her, forcing her to forget the toned, muscled body and dive inside them, searching for everlasting love. Or at least one helluva night of passion. If she disregarded the glare in those eyes, he was the stuff of wet dreams. The type of man romance novels were written about. The kind of man supermodels dated. So why the hell was he staring at her? Playing it cool, she dipped her head and quickly checked her clothes. Nope. No button undone. No stains. No tissue paper stuck to her shoes.

  When she raised her head again, he was standing directly in front of her. Those breath-stealing dark eyes, surrounded by a golden haze, locked onto her and held her as securely as chains would have. Yet she wouldn’t have fought for freedom. No, with him as her captor she would happily live her life chained to his bed. She clenched her fists, keenly aware of how much she wanted to flatten her hands against his chest. The thin silk material couldn’t hide the firmness of him, the muscles rippling with his slightest move. If she could have undressed him right there in the lobby of the restaurant she would have. Not to mention what she’d have done to him once he was in the buff. She glanced at his crotch, then jerked her gaze upward, shocked at her bold move.

  To cover both her frank appraisal and instant shyness, she stuck out her hand and lifted her chin. “Hi. I’m Lauren Kade. You seem to know me, but—”

  “Get out.”

  His stern voice, rich and hauntingly familiar, shook her, sending a cold chill along her spine. Had she understood him correctly? Did he just tell her to get out? Suddenly, the trance holding her vanished.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?” Of course she’d heard him wrong. After all, she hadn’t paid close attention. At least not to what he might say.

  “I told you to get out. Your kind isn’t welcomed here.”

  His words knocked the air out of her. She inhaled and slowly exhaled, taking time to recover. “My kind? What kind do you mean? My kind…as in dentists?” Was he a dissatisfied patient? But she’d never had even one patient complaint.

  “You know what I’m talking about. Get out.”

  Talk about handsome and rude all at the same time. What the hell was wrong with this guy? Who the hell did he think he was? Acutely aware of everyone listening, she tried to bring civility to their conversation. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. Did I do something to offend you? Perhaps you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

  “Trust me. I know exactly who I’m talking to.”

  Why did so many hunks have to be such conc
eited schmucks? She checked the other patrons, found the answer to her next question, but asked it anyway. “Am I not dressed appropriately? I mean, lunch is hardly a black tie affair. I would think slacks would be suitable. And I do have shoes on.” She smiled, hoping he’d lighten up at her joke.

  “Your attire has nothing to do with it. I want you to leave. Now.” His dark eyes flashed at her, his thick eyebrows falling toward his nose and chiseled features.

  Was she getting punked? Lauren glanced around again, this time looking for her friend, Bobbie, who loved to play practical jokes. “Is Bobbie behind this?” She laughed, confident that she was right, and dashed toward the swinging door to the kitchen.

  “Hey! You can’t go in there.”

  “I bet she’s hiding in the kitchen, right? Bobbie, the jig’s up. You can’t trick me.”

  She stalled, the doors swinging shut behind her, and gawked at the cooks. Two chefs and four waiters stared back at her. But no Bobbie.

  “Oh, I get it. She’s hiding.” Dashing around the kitchen, she checked under tables, in cupboards and had her hand on the freezer door when someone grabbed her. She whirled to face the exasperating man. A very worried manager stood behind him.

  His hand clenched around her arm did several things. First, it surprised her. Next, it hurt like hell. And lastly, it embarrassed her. “What do you think you’re doing? Let go of me.”

  This man had gone from rude to ranking jerkwad status and the joke wasn’t funny any longer. Why would Bobbie want this man involved in her prank?

  “This isn’t a joke and I don’t know who the hell Bobbie is.”

  “Then I don’t get it. If this isn’t a joke, what’s going on?”

  His face was a mask of contained anger. “You’re acting like a chicken with its head cut off and I’ve had quite enough of this idiocy. You are not welcome.” Taking her along with him, he marched her out of the kitchen, through the curious patrons and toward the front door.

  Angry and humiliated, she yanked her arm from him, spread her feet wide and matched his combative stance. “Who the hell are you to decide who can eat here? I’ve dined here lots of times and I’ve never seen you before.” She crossed her arms, challenging him to lay his hand on her again. “I think you’re out of line, mister. Only the management can ask me to leave. Only Mr. Richmand can throw me out.”