Running with the Pack: Cannon Pack, Book 3

by Beverly Rae

  Crooking the phone between her shoulder and ear, she quickly scribbled a note to Daniel, urging him to hurry to the hunters’ usual meeting place behind Luigi’s Italian Restaurant. Maybe she could stall the group, giving Daniel time to catch up with them. If not, she’d have to come up with a way to save the shifter herself.

  If only there was a way to leave a trail for Daniel to follow. Her gaze fell on the horrible-smelling perfume her grandmother had given her for her birthday. Daniel had sniffed it earlier in the day, declaring it the worst thing he’d ever smelled. Unscrewing the bottle, she liberally applied the perfume to her body and grimaced at the stench. If Daniel couldn’t follow her now, then he needed his nose fixed.

  “Lauren, don’t even think about up and disappearing again. That kind of shit has to stop.”

  “Okay, I’ve got it. I’ll see you as soon as I can.” She clicked off the phone and took a moment to reconsider her decision. Daniel would understand, right? Once the hunt was over and she’d saved another life—two lives—she was sure he’d forgive her for leaving without him.

  Chapter Ten

  Dressing as quickly as she could, Lauren grabbed her rifle bag and rushed downstairs. The few minutes it took her to get to her parking space dragged into an eternity.

  Lauren jumped out of her car and hurried to the back parking lot of Luigi’s. John and the others huddled in the dimming light, speaking in lowered tones. Deciding she couldn’t turn back now, she held her head up, thrust out her chin and plastered on a smile.

  “Hey, guys.” Ignoring the fact that no one—not even John—returned her greeting, she unzipped her bag and hefted her gun into her left hand. Thank goodness Daniel had returned her rifle with the blanks still in it. Could she use the same trick a second time? “Ready to go shootin’ for shifters?” Her voice sounded tinny to her ear. “Sounds like a game show, doesn’t it? Get it? Shootin’ for Shifters?”

  The glum looks that darted between the men and John told the whole story. The men didn’t want her along. But did that mean she was busted? “Remember last time? I got him good, didn’t I?”

  John didn’t hide his irritation. “Yeah, sure we do. Although some of the guys aren’t too happy that you left the carcass there.” A few grumbled their agreement. “Lauren, are you sure you’re up for this? I mean, nobody’s going to mind if you sit this one out.” He scrunched up his nose in revulsion. “Crap, girl, you reek. You’re wearing that shit your grandma gave you, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t you like it?”

  “Hell, no. And don’t wear it again. You’re liable to scare even a skanky-smelling werewolf away.” Mumbles and nodding heads surrounded her like voice-activated bobbleheads.

  “Of course I’m up for it. After sitting around on the sofa with my sick aunt and watching soap operas and game shows, I’m ready for some excitement.” She knew she shouldn’t risk it, but she couldn’t resist. Anything to buy time. “Don’t you want me to hunt with you, fellas?” Feigning a sad expression, she bet that the good nature of most of the hunters would win out and they’d remain silent. Judging by their sudden interest in the pavement, she’d pegged them correctly. “I think I’ll take that as a yes.”

  John, however, wasn’t giving up that easily. Taking her aside, he whispered, “Like I said before, you’ve got to know that you haven’t done a very good job keeping up with the group.”

  Lauren hated to play girly games, but she would if she had to. “I know and I’m so sorry, John. I didn’t realize I was such a burden.” She thought about Torrie and worked up a tear. He hated to see women cry. Not that he felt bad for them. Instead, it made him nervous, and he hated feeling nervous. “Could you give me another chance? Pretty please?”

  “Well, okay.” He leaned in closer. “But try to stay up with us. No more falling behind to tie your shoes, got it?”

  “Got it.” She bit back a retort. One day he’s gonna get it, if I have my way. “But hey, guys?”

  The hunters turned toward her, frowns and scowls on their faces. They couldn’t have voiced their dislike of her any better with words.

  “How about I treat everyone to a beer first? Or maybe even dinner?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” John gaped at her as though she’d lost her mind. “We don’t have time to socialize. We’ve got a shifter to kill.”

  Lauren grabbed his arm, keeping him with her. “It’s just that we never got to celebrate my kill. So I just thought we could take a few minutes to heft a beer or two.”

  “Think again.” John shook off her arm. Giving the signal to follow him, John sprinted down the adjacent alley with Lauren and the rest on his heels. She moved into the middle of the group to take a position where she could go either faster or slower, left or right, whichever way she needed to cause a diversion. They ran, stopping to rest after a mile, then started again. Lauren kept glancing around her, hoping to see a shadow that signaled Daniel’s arrival, but she saw nothing. The others, confident in their superiority, moved on, careless of their surroundings. Like so many times before, John was the one who spotted something and slowed them to a stop.

  Lauren peered into the dimly lit alley in front of them, searching for a werewolf. Yet as hard as she tried, she couldn’t see anything. “John, wh—”

  John whirled on her, his finger to his lips. Jerking his head to indicate an area next to a Dumpster, he motioned for the others to crouch beside him. Lauren still couldn’t see anything and she bet none of the other hunters could either. Nonetheless, they followed John’s example and hunkered down. This wouldn’t be the first time John had located a shifter when no one else could. The man had a finding-a-shifter knack.

  Again Lauren searched the area. Please, don’t let it be the pregnant female. Again she glanced behind her, hoping to see a dark werewolf on their trail. Daniel, where are you?

  John gave another signal, telling them to stay close. As a group, they inched forward a few feet, then stopped when John went down on one knee. Lauren squinted and saw nothing, her pulse beating in her ears. How could she save the shifter if she couldn’t see it?

  The rifle was on John’s shoulder and the shot off before she realized what had happened. A large werewolf leapt into the air, snarling, and came down hard. He backed into the darkness, his escape blocked on either side of him by walls. The only way out was through the hunters. Lauren’s heart pounded, both in rage and shock. Damn, she hadn’t had time to do anything to help the shifter. Now the only option left was her blank bullets.

  “Well, it’s not the female we’re hunting, but I’m not complaining. I’m fairly sure I hit him.” The smug grin on John’s face made her want to upchuck. “Let’s go finish him off.”

  The group hurried closer to the limping werewolf and formed a semicircle around him.

  “Keep him penned up, men.” John grinned at the others. “I want to take my time and enjoy this.”

  “Just take your time to aim better, okay? You didn’t kill with the first shot, John. Maybe you’re losing your touch.”

  John scowled at the hunter. “Maybe. But I’m also the one who found him. I didn’t see you tracking anything, Walter.”

  The others laughed at the friendly barbs the two men exchanged. Lauren, for once, couldn’t fake it. Did the shifter look familiar? Had she seen him at the mansion? Was this a friend of Daniel’s?

  Jumping in front of the group, she lifted her rifle and sent the werewolf a pleading look. “Get ready to fall down and die, you vile beast.” She hoped the shifter caught the added emphasis she’d put on the words. If he didn’t play along, then they were both in trouble.

  “Hey! What d’ya think you’re doing? This is my kill.”

  She stepped closer to the shifter, putting distance between her and the hunters. She looked down the scope, taking aim. “Come on, John. If this is my last hunt—” she checked the hunters’ expressions and knew she’d hit a nerve, “—then let me go out with a bang.” Mouthing the words “play dead” to the werewolf
, she said a silent prayer and pulled the trigger.

  For a moment, she didn’t think the werewolf had understood. Then, almost in slow motion, the shifter fell to the ground, growled and lay still.

  “Woo-hoo! She did it again.”

  “It’s about time she learned how to shoot. Now if only she could hit a moving target.”

  John tugged her around to face him. “Since this is your last hunt—” he paused to let his declaration set in, “—I’ll let that go. But don’t ever pull anything like that again, got it?”

  She puffed out a blast of pent-up air. “Got it.” Raising her rifle into the air, she shouted, “Okay, everyone, back to Luigi’s for a celebration on me.”

  The men hooted and started to follow her. John, however, had other ideas. He moved to stand above the shifter before Lauren could stop him.

  “John, come on. Forget the carcass. You know I don’t want it and it’s my say-so what to do with it. Let’s go party. Please?” She ran her hand down his back, dragging her nails. Getting close to his ear, she whispered, “Then we can have our own party after that.”

  John backed up quickly, almost knocking her over. “What the hell? It’s still breathing.” The hunters rejoined them, crowding her close to a fuming John. “Either you missed or…” He grabbed her gun, pointed the rifle at a box several feet away and pulled the trigger.

  Lauren started backing up, preparing to run, but the hunters closed in on her. John stared at the gun, then turned to face them. “The gun had no retort and that box didn’t move. She’s shooting blanks.” He tossed her rifle to the ground. “We’ve been had.” John’s face closed in, his frown morphing into a face of fury. “You used blanks the last time, didn’t you? You didn’t kill that shifter either, did you?”

  Hands clutched her and forced her forward. The werewolf jumped to its feet and began pacing, once more a trapped animal. Angry words and calls of “traitor” assaulted her, but she barely heard them, instead concentrating on the furious man in front of her. She was cornered just like the werewolf.

  “John, please let him go.”

  The men laughed, taking it as a joke. John, however, wasn’t fooled. “Are you crazy? Why the hell would I do that?”

  Could she make him see that shifters weren’t the evil creatures he thought they were? Maybe if this shifter changed back into human form, he could show them how human he really was. “Get him to change back.”

  “Again. Why the hell would I do that? He’s an animal no matter what form he’s in.”

  The werewolf stopped pacing, his amber eyes narrowing. A low rumble of a snarl vibrated the air around them.

  “In fact, I don’t know why I’m even talking about this.”

  Lauren’s stomach dropped as John whirled around and unloaded his clip into the shifter. The werewolf jerked and fell to the ground, blood gushing from a now unrecognizable head.

  “No!” Enraged, Lauren fought against the men holding her, but it was no use. All she could do was scream and cry until she had no energy left. Her knees gave out and she remained upright only because the men held her. “You don’t understand them, John.” She glanced around, taking in each of the hunters. “None of you do. They’re not that different from us.”

  “Are you kidding me? They change into beasts and kill innocent people.”

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed on, keeping her gaze from the dead werewolf. “Have you ever seen them kill anyone? Because I haven’t.” Turning to look at each hunter, she asked, “Have you?” When no one could say they had, she gained the encouragement to continue. “That’s right. No one has. Why? Because the werewolves have a policy to not hurt anyone unless they have no other choice. They never initiate an attack. In fact, they avoid fighting unless they’re trying to protect themselves.”

  John gawked at her, fury flaming his face. “And you know this how?” He confronted her, placing his face inches from hers. “You’re not a shifter. I know you’re not.”

  “You’re right. I’m not.” Lauren wanted to look away but held her ground. She had nothing to lose. “I’m not a shifter, but I know one. In fact, I know several. And they’re not the devil’s spawn you think they are.”

  The men released her, stepping away from her as though she’d contracted a contagious disease. John did the same, disgust mixing with the anger. “You’re lying.”

  She glanced at the werewolf, bereft at her failure to save him. “Sorry, bucko. I’m not lying. I’ve lied about liking hunting, yes, but I’m not lying about the shifters.”

  Where she’d disliked John’s vehement reaction before, she now shivered at his sudden coldness. He’d transformed from an angry boyfriend into a calculating enemy. “You’re not merely their fan, are you, Lauren? Hell, you’re on their side.”

  “I’m on everyone’s side.” She hoped they could see the pleading in her eyes. “Can’t we all just get along?” For a moment, no one spoke, all of them placing the familiar saying. Oh shit. I can’t believe I said that. She giggled, her nerves, her grief taking over. “Seriously, though, maybe if shifters and hunters sat down and talked it out—”

  “I don’t sit down with beasts. I shoot them.”

  Why couldn’t he see? “Look at him, John. Couldn’t you see the humanity in his eyes? Couldn’t you feel his fear?”

  Confused, John glanced at the dead werewolf and shook his head. “You’re not making any sense.”

  “Yes, I am. If you would’ve tried, you could have seen past his appearance to the human inside. But now it’s too late.” She moaned, the emotions of the terrible day she’d killed Torrie boiling to the surface to mix with her grief for the murdered shifter. “I saw the humanity, the pain, the anguish and that’s what made me understand. If I could take back what I did, if I could keep from killing her, I would.”

  “Killing who?” John’s eyes lit up. “You mean the one shifter you managed to shoot and actually hit?”

  An ache born of regret ripped through her. “Yes, the one shifter I killed. If I’d only understood—” His roaring laugh stopped her, drilling his cruelty into her.

  “You dumb bitch.”

  Stunned, Lauren opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. John’s incredulous expression hurt her more than his words ever could have.

  “You little idiot, you didn’t kill it.”

  “What?” Lauren wasn’t sure he’d heard her whisper, but it didn’t matter.

  “Listen up, you dumb twit. You didn’t kill it. Hell, you never even came close to killing it.” John scoffed, his derision overtaking him. “I guess it’s your turn not to understand. Don’t you get it? I let you take the first shot that day, but your bullet grazed the animal. Shit, I was shocked that you managed to get the gun to your shoulder.”

  “Are you sure? But how do you know?” She’d seen the werewolf, seen Torrie react to getting shot.

  “You’re still a newbie, aren’t you? Even after everything I’ve tried to teach you.” He snorted. “Shit, you’re hopeless. You couldn’t kill an elephant standing two feet in front of you, much less a shifter several yards away.”

  “But why? Why would you let me think I’d shot her?” Lauren didn’t know whether to feel angry at John or happy that she hadn’t murdered Torrie.

  “Come on, Lauren, get a clue. I let you get the first shot off so you’d get all excited. Excited, then hot and bothered in bed later.”

  Anger took the lead. She wanted to shoot him but instead forced her question through gritted teeth. “Answer me. How do you know I didn’t kill her? How do you know it wasn’t my bullet that killed her?”

  He snickered. “I marked our bullets, remember? Yours with an L and mine with a J? You thought it was romantic like any dumb broad would. But it was just another ploy to get your panties off. I couldn’t believe you’d actually hit the beast, so I had the boys dig the bullets out of the carcass.” His leer widened. “None of them was your bullet. I found yours, with a trace of shifter blood on it, lodged in a tree behind the b
east.”

  Daniel peered over the edge of the building. Good thing he’d turned back to the apartment to ask Lauren if she wanted anything else from the market. At first he’d been angry after reading her note, but he’d had time to cool off and think. Of course Lauren would try to help a pregnant werewolf. Wouldn’t he have done the same thing? He’d changed on the run, slipping in and out of back alleys. Although he’d arrived at the restaurant after the hunters had already left, the stench of Lauren’s perfume gave him a tentative trail to follow. Hearing the shots, however, led him directly to her. He snarled, his gaze fixed on the dead werewolf, one of the youngest members of his pack. If only he’d gotten here faster. Crouching, he focused on John.

  Lauren didn’t kill Torrie. The sentence ran through Daniel’s mind, over and over, trying to get it to stick. She shot at her. But it wasn’t Lauren who’d taken his mate. He was unprepared for the emotion that assaulted him. Knowing that Lauren wasn’t responsible for his mate’s death let loose a flood of relief that almost knocked him off his feet.

  Fury, unrestrained and raw, ripped through him, demolishing the relief and charging him with a power that had to find a release. He was blinded with one overwhelming need: to kill the hunter who’d taken his mate from him and was threatening Lauren. Transformed, Daniel snarled, then launched his body from the top of the building. He flew through the air, his snarl growing into a mighty bellow, and landed on John’s back.

  “Urgh.” John hit the ground face first, dropping his rifle, his arms flailing outward. Daniel tore into his clothes, raking his back into long slits of red. John screamed and struggled to rise, but the large werewolf kept him pinned and vulnerable.

  “Daniel. No!”

  But the beast was in control now, holding a tight rein on the human consciousness inside him. Daniel could hear her pleas to release the hunter, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t let him go. Growling, he warned the other hunters to stay back.

  “Someone shoot it!”

  “No, wait. We might hit John.”