He dove, pulling her behind him. She kicked her legs, trying to help the best she could. He’d be faster without her holding him back but his fingers dug into her skin. He had no intentions of letting her go.
Her lungs burned, hungry for the oxygen several feet above her head. She tried to think of something else, anything except her need to breathe. She was going to drown, she suddenly realized. Stars danced before her eyes as they cut through the water so she closed them.
Trust me.
The words ran through her head repeatedly until she couldn’t stop herself from inhaling. Just as she took a breath, they broke the surface, and her lungs gulped down precious air rather than the dirty lake water.
They were sheltered under a large overhanging bush on the opposite side of the lake from where they started. The overturned canoe had disappeared beneath the water. The only reminders they had been there were the floating oars and the cooler that bobbed along.
Beth found her footing but kept her body hidden under the water. Kaleb was gasping next to her, just as air starved as she was.
“We…” he whispered, panting, “have to…”
“Truck,” she supplied when he gasped again.
He nodded quickly, confirming that was what he was going to say. They were running for the truck.
They stayed under cover of the brush for several long minutes. Beth caught her breath and Kaleb appeared to be listening to their surroundings. His nose twitched but she couldn't discern what he did or didn’t smell.
“Stay down,” he whispered before sliding out of the brush and belly crawling out of the water, using the dense overgrowth for cover.
Beth followed him, imitating his movements until they were in the tree line. He grasped her hand, keeping his head low and pulled her behind him. They moved slowly through the trees. Beth tried to keep her footing light, realizing that he was trying to keep them as quiet as possible.
Did he know where the shooter was? Did he know how he was going to get them out of there without being spotted? Or shot?
Trust me.
Without question, she trusted him with her life. When he stopped abruptly and crouched down, she followed suit. They were tucked behind a thick fallen log. Vines tangled over the moss-covered wood.
She couldn't see anything but the trees. Her ears strained to pick up a sound - any sound. Silence buzzed in her ears until finally, the smallest noise touched her ears.
Male voices.
“...trouver...” French?
She had taken French in high school and remembered some words but was never very good at the language. Even though they were only a few hours from Quebec, she hadn’t bothered trying to retain what she had learned.
Beth held her breath, terrified of giving away their location. Water dripped from her hair and her clothes, every drop louder than the one before.
She was painfully aware of her wet, squeaking shoes every time she wavered. The men didn't seem to notice, thankfully. Their hushed voices moved in a different direction and once there was silence again, Kaleb tugged her away from their hiding spot.
They weren't going back the same way they came. There was no visible path under their feet at all. Beth jumped over fallen logs, tiptoed through the brush, and had to untangle herself from vines more than once but she kept up with him. Kaleb seemed more focused on noise level than movement speed, bringing his finger up to his mouth more than once to remind her.
Not that she could ever really forget.
At last, when the side of Declan's house was in sight, they stopped. Beth saw Kaleb's hesitation. Running for the truck meant running out into the open, exposing themselves to whoever may be lying in wait by the truck.
If the initial plan had been to kill them when they were out on the water then maybe there wasn't anyone by the truck? Somehow, she doubted it. Luck hadn't been her lady of late.
Kaleb crouched low to the ground, pulling her down next to him. He pointed in the direction of Declan's house and she followed his arm but didn't see anything. She slowly shook her head, squinting to make out what he was showing her.
Leaning closer to her, he whispered in her ear, “In the trees, to the right of the telephone pole. See him?”
She shielded her eyes and squinted again, focusing on the area next to the telephone pole that sat across the road from Declan's. His eyesight amazed her. There was no way she’d ever see the person lying in wait, but she knew he was there. And armed.
It was the small hint of movement that drew her focus finally and even then, she wasn't entirely sure it wasn't the wind. If that's where Kaleb said the rifle was that meant there was a clear shot of the truck.
They weren't going to make it.
Kaleb scanned the backyard, his eyes darting from location to location as if debating their best course of action. Slowly, he backed into the brush and she followed him, staying at his side. They moved so that the shed was between them and the waiting rifle.
He bent close to her eat once again. “Get down, keep your eyes open and listen. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Her eyes widened. He was leaving her? Leaving her with at least two men in the woods behind her and a rifle trained in their direction? She shook her head over and over and gripped his hand.
Kaleb pulled her close to him, his cheek against hers and ran his hand through her wet, tangled hair. “We can’t get to the truck with him there. He’ll kill both of us before we’re close and I don’t trust that we’ll get back to town without them finding us first. Stay here. Stay down. I’ll be right back.”
Beth was ready to have a full-blown panic attack as Kaleb pulled his hand from her death grip. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she crouched low behind a thick elm. She hugged the bark as he disappeared, moving silently through the trees. Looking behind her, she strained to hear the sounds of the other men but when she heard nothing, she realized that he’d planted her a good distance away from the others.
Worry gnawed at her gut as she waited. What was taking so long? It may have only been a few minutes, but it felt like hours and hours. When she heard a light disturbance in the bushes in the direction where Kaleb had disappeared, she tucked herself harder against the bark and held her breath.
Please, let him be okay. Please, please, please, please.
She couldn’t just sit here like this. Waiting and waiting. For what? For him to come back for her? What if something had happened to him and he was there, bleeding and alone? Her eyes were watering and quickly, she dashed away the tears before she was left as nothing more than a sobbing heap in the middle of the woods.
Get a grip, she chastised herself. Tears would do no good. Straightening her spine, she refused to be an even bigger burden to Kaleb than she already was. One unsteady foot in front of the other, she crept around the side of the tree and struggled to see something. Anything, but the only things that greeted her eyes were shades of greens and browns from the trees and the overgrowth of the woods.
There was no movement. No squirrels. No birds chirping. Everything had gone eerily quiet as she waited on baited breath for him to come back or to at least show himself to her. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she stepped in the direction he’d gone.
A hand covered her mouth and she screamed as she was hauled against a hard chest. “Shh…” Kaleb whispered against her ear.
Her body went lax against him as he spun her around to face him. When she glanced down, she saw the blood on his right hand. There wasn’t a lot but a thin layer of red covered the tips of his fingers and his nails.
“You good?” he asked her and she nodded. He wiped his hand on his pants and she saw then where he’d already smeared it on himself once. “It’s not mine.”
She breathed a small sigh of relief as he grabbed her hand with his left as if he didn’t want to get the blood anywhere on her. He tugged her in the direction of the truck, his chin lifted as he scented the air.
Shouts erupted from the trees. With a growl, Kaleb jerked her
hand. Beth sprinted, trying to keep pace just behind him as they raced toward his truck. She didn’t know how many more men were in the woods or waiting for them, but they’d been spotted by someone.
The crack of gunshots rattled her eardrums as Kaleb wrenched open the driver side door and all but threw Beth inside. She scurried over the bench seat, keeping her head down, just as Kaleb slammed his keys in the ignition.
The truck roared to life and within seconds, they were peeling out of Declan’s driveway and back toward the main road as Kaleb slammed the driver’s side door shut.
“Fuck!” Kaleb howled, slamming the heel of his hand into the steering wheel over and over again. “Motherfucking shit!”
Beth sat up in the seat and gripped the oh-shit bar over the door. Her heart still thundered in her chest, but now she was coming down from her adrenaline high, she felt shaky. And sick.
When he stopped raging, she asked, “Are you okay?”
“No, Beth. No, I’m not fucking okay. None of this is fucking okay.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and grimaced when he smelled the blood there. Kaleb dug around the gear shift and felt around on the floor once he’d calmed slightly.
Everything that had happened in Declan’s woods repeated itself over and over in her head. She didn’t know how they’d managed to get out of there, but he’d done it. He’d dragged her out of the woods with both of their lives intact. “I didn't know the warlocks spoke French. Their compound is in Quebec?”
“They don’t. Those weren’t fucking warlocks,” he spat. “Get my phone. I can’t find it.”
She found it tucked next to his thigh. Pulling it out she went to hand it to him but he shook his head, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“Find Declan in the contacts and give it to me.”
She did as he asked, scrolling through the names in his cell phone and hitting dial before handing Kaleb the phone.
He held it to his ear for several beats without saying anything.
“We have Slayers in Cantor.”
10
Slayers.
How the hell had Slayers found them here? They hadn’t had Slayers in the county since his parents died years before. Kaleb’s mind raced, trying to keep up with what he needed to relay.
“How do you know they’re Slayers?” Declan asked him, cutting into his train of thought.
“They were human. I understand enough French to know the basics of what they were saying.”
“What were they saying?”
“Find the beast. Be careful of the enchantress,” he said, cringing at the words. Classic slayer terms for a werewolf and a witch, even if they were spoken in French.
Declan let out a long breath over the line. “How many?”
“At least three, possibly four since I never saw a vehicle and I doubt they got there on foot. On your property, by the way.”
“What were you doing out there?”
“Trying to have a good fucking day.”
Declan was quiet for a moment before asking, “All males?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to avoid the CE and keep this low but I have to send in werewolf enforcement at the very least. There are too many lives as risk,” Declan said.
“I know.”
“You also realize that the Slayers know who you are. They’re going to trace you to Gabriel and the rest of us, especially if you were on my property.”
What about Beth? If they pegged him, they’d also pegged her. “Beth, do you have any local family?”
She shook her head. “My parents are still in Florida.”
Most Slayers traveled in small groups of four or five. They would most likely stay on his family’s trail since they were closer and more convenient than hers.
“What about a safehouse?”
“Jesus, I can’t put you in a safehouse. Not with her and not without alerting my father. The only thing I can advise you to do right now is run.”
“Dammit,” he muttered. “I’ll call you back.” Kaleb disconnected the call and tossed the phone onto the seat.
He was right. Utilizing a council safehouse was the fastest way to bring the CE to their door. Werewolf enforcement was bad enough but at least they were mostly controlled by Malcolm and Declan, especially if they came into Azarov territory. They focused on werewolf interests rather than that of the council. The same council most likely under the control of the warlocks.
They wouldn’t be able to run, not really. Slayers would pursue them, unrelentingly until they were found. Knowing who he is was all they needed to track him. Running would only put him and Beth into an unfamiliar environment. It would be that much more difficult to protect them. He muttered a curse, not knowing what to do.
“Safehouse?” she asked once he’d stopped cursing to himself.
He nodded. “There are only a few scattered around but they’re typically used in these situations.”
“Situations where Slayers know who you are?”
“Exactly those situations. We need to find somewhere else to go but I don’t know where. Nowhere is safe.”
“No,” she said abruptly. “No.”
He glanced at her. A frown marred her pretty face. Her eyes locked on him.
“I’m tired, Kaleb. I’m tired of hiding from people all the damn time. Everyone and their brother want to kill me. Kill us. What’s to say we get fifty miles down the road and someone else doesn’t want me dead? There always seems to be one more…Warlocks, Lacey, Slayers. Screw them all.”
He slowed the truck slightly as they entered the town. He hated that she was so overwhelmed. She’d already confessed that to him earlier but it was hard to encourage her to enjoy the moment when someone was always trying to kill her. “Do you realize how easy it would be for them to find us. It’s just a matter of walking into the bar and bam.”
“We’ll pretend to not be home.”
Home. Was his apartment turning into her home?
“Park the truck at the bus station or something so it looks like we ran,” she said. “We’ll close the curtains and keep the lights off. Let Alex run the bar and act like we’ve just vanished.”
Hiding in plain sight. He nodded, realizing that no matter where they went, they’d be tracked by a single swipe of a credit card. It wouldn't be hard for anyone, especially a Slayer, to stay on them.
It gave him an idea. He swung a left at the next light and pulled into the bank, using the drive-up ATM.
“What are you doing?” she asked him. He pushed in his PIN and withdrew the maximum the ATM would let him with one transaction.
“Pretending to leave the area.” The ATM began spitting out cash. He handed her the pile and put his card back in, withdrawing another max amount. He repeated the process until the ATM refused to give him any more money. He’d locked his accounts. Beth was sitting in her seat, a massive pile of cash on her lap.
“What do you want me to do with all this?” she asked him, gesturing to the money.
He shrugged. “Throw it in the glove box. I’ll deposit it back once all this blows over and if it doesn’t, then we’ll have it ready to go.”
She did what he said before sitting back. His next stop was the gas station. He filled up the tank with his credit card and went inside, his clothes still damp and his hand thrust into his pocket to stock up on non-perishables. When he came out, his hands were clean and he carried hotdogs.
Beth ate her gas station hotdog as they pulled into the back alley behind the bar. Kaleb parked the truck inside a narrow garage across from the back door to the bar.
“I didn’t know you had a garage,” she commented as he backed in. She popped the last bite of the overly greasy dog into her mouth.
“Gabriel usually parks here but his truck is in the shop getting serviced. They’re probably wondering why he hasn’t come to pick it up yet.” He tossed her his keys which she caught easily. “Unlock the back door.”
She did as he asked before tossing him the keys agai
n. This time he put them back in the visor before closing the doors and latching them shut. He went inside first, locking the deadbolt behind them. They were officially shut in for the foreseeable future.
“If something happens, get in the truck and go,” he told her once they were inside the apartment. “Just drive and don’t stop until you’re far away from here.”
“What about you?”
He swung around to face her. “What about me?”
“I couldn’t leave you behind.”
Kaleb sighed, stepping toward her. His large palm cupped her cheek. It was warm against her skin, and she nestled against him. “Yes, love, leave me behind.”
Love. If he noticed he said that four letter word, he didn't mention it.
He dropped his hand, leaving her skin cold. “You want to stay here fine, but we have to talk about some things.”
“Like what?”
“Where’s my gun?” She stared at him. She didn't know he had a gun. Why would a werewolf even own a gun? “That’s what I thought. I own a hunting rifle and it's in my closet.”
He showed her where he kept the rifle and the basics of how to load it and use it without pulling the trigger. She'd never be comfortable with it but she was confident she could use it in an emergency. He put it back on the shelf in his closet before closing the doors.
“There’s also a bowie knife in the bedside table,” he said, “but those are the only real weapons here.”
She nodded, trying to remember if she saw the knife or not when she was going through his bedside table. “Hopefully I’ll never have to use them. I don’t have much faith that I won’t shoot myself.”
“You’ll be fine. Now let’s say they’re in the apartment and blocking the door, how are you going to get out?”
She shrugged. “The window?”
“Which window?”
“I don’t know. The closest window?”
He shook his head and pointed to the window in his bedroom. “That one. The dumpster is just below it. You could jump from there and not break your neck. That’s your emergency exit.”
Wild and Untamed (Netherworld Series Book 4) Page 17
