by T. S. Joyce
“What are you doing?”
“Telling you about my day.”
Her chest heaved as she stared at him, waiting for the punchline to his joke.
“I was supposed to get off a long, forty-eight hour shift early this morning, but right when my brothers and I were about to head out, we got a call. It was a house fire in Fairplay, but when we got there, it had spread to the barn and surrounding woods as well. The wind had kicked up, and everything was so dry… Anyway, my crew rescued a woman from inside an upstairs bedroom. She was pretty banged up, burns on her arms and was having trouble breathing, but she kept saying she couldn’t find Manny. ‘I can’t find Manny. My Manny is still in there somewhere.’” Boone swallowed audibly and gripped the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead. Easing his truck forward, he said, “She’d been taking a nap when the fire started, and she thought he was still in the house, but he wasn’t. I know because my brothers and I almost burned turning that place upside down in that blaze looking for him. He was in the barn, trying to let their horses out of the stalls, I guess. Maybe he thought his wife was already gone, or he hadn’t been able to get to her. We heard him screaming. We can hear everything, and he was burning. I ran out to the barn, and it felt like every step took a hundred years as Manny screamed and screamed. Sometimes with fires, we can’t get in the building. We just physically can’t if they are already engulfed. We were using the hoses and just dumping water, just drowning the fire, but we couldn’t get to him. That used to be my biggest fear.”
“What?”
“Burning alive on a call.”
Cora clutched the material of his jacket across her lap as she thought about losing Boone that way, and of the fear he had to face every day. “What are you most afraid of now?”
Boone swung his gaze to her. “You.”
A pair of headlights blinded her for an instant from behind Boone before his truck shattered inward. She screamed as Boone reacted instantly to the force of the crash, shielding her body with his as shards of glass exploded toward them. Spinning out, stomach dipping, dizziness, screeching tires and a second later, it was done as the truck rocked to a violent stop on the other side of the road.
“Oh my gosh,” she chanted over and over as she looked up into Boone’s wide, feral, gold-hued eyes.
“Shh,” he said, smoothing her hair from her face and dipping his chin, leveling her a hard look. “Tell me if you’re hurt.”
Why was he whispering so softly? The adrenaline was doing something strange to her body. Maybe she was in shock. She shook so hard it rattled her bones, and her breath trembled as she tried to draw oxygen into her lungs and take stock of her body. Thank God, she’d put on her seatbelt. Thank God, Boone had been wearing his.
A raspy voice sounded over the quiet street through the broken window. “I just have to check and make sure they’re expired. No, I did it just as planned. It’ll look like an accident.”
Cora slammed her trembling hand over her mouth to hold in the scared sounds lodged in her throat.
“Tell me fast,” Boone said on a breath. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, too afraid to speak. Someone had done this on purpose. The man in the other car had been trying to hurt Boone. No, he’d been trying to hurt both of them. He’d said he needed to make sure they’re expired. The sound of crunching glass under heavy footfall blasted terror through her veins. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps, but Boone pulled her face back to him. He pressed his finger over his lips and went limp, palm slipping from her. He groaned a soft, pained sound. Was he hurt? His hand squeezed her leg hard. No. Just playing opossum.
She was already hunched and leaned against the window, so she closed her eyes and slid her hand into her purse. There wasn’t time to call the police and tell them an address. She couldn’t look around and see the street signs, and talking right now wasn’t even an option, but her reporter instincts screamed there should be some record of what was going down. When her grasp landed on the cold plastic of her cell, she turned it on video from memory and slid it out slowly. Sticky warmth trickled down her face, but it didn’t hurt yet. The adrenaline was making her numb. She couldn’t stop shaking! Her rattling body would blow their cover.
“Fuck,” the man said.
God, she wanted to open her eyes. This was so much scarier not knowing what this monster looked like.
“They’re still breathing. Nah, there’s no cameras on this street. No houses either. I picked it carefully. Yeah, I said I’ll take care of it, and I will. I’ll call you when it’s done.”
The door creaked open. Boone’s body jerked away from her, and unable to keep still a moment longer, Cora’s eyes flew open, and a scream burst from her throat. Boone had the man’s wrist in his hand and jerked it hard. A loud pop sounded and the man gritted his teeth and made an agonized yelp as a syringe dropped from his grip to the space on the seat between her and Boone.
The man was generic looking. Hair smoothed back into place, as if he’d combed it after the wreck. Smooth-shaven face, enraged coffee-colored eyes, and impeccable suit. No blood on his face at all, as if he’d been lucky enough to hit an airbag. He was also highly trained, which was evident in him blocking every punch Boone threw at him, despite an obviously broken wrist.
Boone was trapped by the seatbelt as he fought for their lives, and there wasn’t enough room in the cab of his shredded truck to fully extend his arm to box the man. He slammed the attacker against the door so hard, it fell off and skidded across the street.
Lurching forward, Cora unbuckled Boone’s seatbelt, and he slid out of the truck, feral gaze intent on the man doubled over on the ground. “You work for IESA?” Boone asked, voice gravelly and low.
The man scrambled to his feet and wiped the sleeve of his dark suit jacket across his bloody lip. An empty, echoing laugh escaped him as he raised his fists, ready for another row with Boone. His left one was already swelling and painful looking, but didn’t seem to bother him.
Terrified, Cora stumbled from the truck. She swallowed a sob when she got a glance at the destroyed front end of Boone’s ride. Fingers shaking, she had to try twice to dial 911, and when she got through, she spouted off the intersection and told the dispatcher she’d been in a car wreck and the other man was trying to kill them. When she looked up, Boone and the man were locked in a battle that was just as graceful as it was deadly. They never stopped moving, dodging, hitting, blocking, side-stepping. When a hit connected, the sickening sound of fist slamming into muscle brought bile to the back of her throat.
“You stupid animal,” the man growled at the sound of sirens in the distance. “You were the warning, you and your whore. The rest of your crew would’ve come back in line.”
Something shiny slashed through the air, and Boone jerked back. The arcing tip of a syringe missed him by millimeters. When Boone cupped the man’s neck and slammed him against the concrete, the needle launched from the man’s hand and skittered across the ground, cracking against the curb, spilling its contents.
Cora pulled the knife from her purse and screamed Boone’s name as she bolted for him. He turned in time for her to slide the handle of her closed knife against the palm of his hand. In one smooth motion, he flicked the blade open and pressed it against the man’s neck just enough to nick him. Crimson trailed in a sickening line down his throat as Boone applied more pressure. “It doesn’t matter if you’d succeeded tonight. My crew won’t every come back in line again.”
“Kill me, Keller,” the man rasped through an empty smile. He stretched his neck up against the blade. “Do it. Show everyone what a monster you are.”
Boone lifted his gaze to the sidewalk where four bystanders stood, watching with horror written all over their features.
“If you kill me, it won’t matter. There will be someone new to take my place, but you already know that. We’re going to eradicate your kind until you are nothing but a dim memory. You didn’t play by our rules, and now there will be conse
quences. You thought coming out to the public made you safer? Look in those people’s eyes. They hate you. Hate what you stand for. IESA was the only thing that could’ve kept you safe.”
Boone huffed a breath and shook his head. He looked sick, listening to those words. “You made me and my family kill all those people, all those shifters. Their deaths are on you.”
“You pulled the triggers.”
“I was the trigger,” Boone yelled, voice cracking with power. “IESA is the gun, the bullets…the intent to murder. I should kill you just to make the world a better place, but that’s too easy. You deserve to rot in jail.”
“Oh.” The man shook his head and pouted out his lip. “Poor dumb monster. You’ve become careless off your leash. You and I both know I won’t ever see the inside of a jail cell.” His voice dipped to a whisper. “I’ll be back for you, but first…I’ll be back for her.”
“No!” Boone yelled, his face contorting to something terrifying. His eyes blazed, and the tendons in his neck strained as his voice turned to a roar.
His wide shoulders heaved once as a massive blond grizzly exploded from him.
Flashing lights illuminated his fur—red, blue, red, blue.
The crack of metal on metal echoed as a police officer screamed, “Stand down!”
Boone’s rage filled the air with a popping sensation, like a bolt of electricity, lifting the hairs on Cora’s arm.
“Boone!” she screamed, tears burning her eyes.
His claw was lifted in the air, hovered over the man ready to end him, but at her voice, he went rigid and cast her a feral glance over his shoulder.
Cora clutched tighter to the cell phone, the one she’d been using to record the man’s admission to guilt. Voice wavering, she whispered, “I need you.”
Please let that seep through his foggy mind. If he did this, it would ruin everything. Any hope of the Breck Crew ever being accepted. It would maim any chance of her and Boone being together. It would ensure that he got hurt.
“Please,” she begged, “let the police have him.”
Boone slammed his giant paw down right next to the man’s face. He winced away but Boone was done with him. Slowly, the heavily muscled grizzly backed off the cowering man, hate-filled eyes never leaving his.
With a grunt, Boone turned and headed for the tall trees that towered over the next street of buildings.
“Freeze!” the police said.
“No, wait!” Cora yelled to the officer she’d worked with many times when she broke stories. “Monroe, this man attacked us, wrecked our car and tried to kill us. Boone needs a minute to get control of his animal. I will call his alpha, and he’ll come back and answer questions as soon as he is able.”
“It’s Boone Keller?” The dark-haired officer asked, gun trained at the bear’s receding back.
“Yes. He was defending me.”
“On your knees,” the officer demanded as the attacker rolled upward. “Hands behind your head.”
“You’re going to let the bear get away?” the man asked, fury cracking in his tone.
“He isn’t getting away. I know him, where he works and lives. He’s a good man, and if Cora says he’ll come back, he will. Cora, make that call and get Cody out here.”
Cora stopped the video and bolted for the truck. Hopefully Boone’s phone hadn’t been ejected through the broken window. Last she’d seen, it was sitting in a cup holder on the console. God, she hoped she was right and Boone wasn’t running. She’d made up that bit and hoped she sounded confident enough. Cody would know what to do.
She glanced at the door on the ground, shocked at the force Boone had used against the man, then searched the cab of the pickup. Please be here.
Boone’s phone had been thrown to the floorboard on the passenger side. Holding it in her rattling hands, she scrolled through his contacts. Her fingers felt too big for the screen, and she had to try several times, but she finally dialed Cody.
He picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Boone.”
“Cody?”
A beat of silence followed. “What’s happened?”
Cora looked out toward where the flaxen-furred bear had disappeared from the halo of the streetlight. “Boone needs you.”
Chapter Seven
Quinn rubbed Cora’s arm as a paramedic checked her pupils once more and gave her the all-clear. She had a couple of lacerations to her cheek from the broken window glass, but they were so shallow, she hadn’t even needed stitches. Boone had taken the brunt of the crash when he shielded her body with his and held her in an iron grip.
Rory approached with a sympathetic smile. “Monroe is taking the last of Boone’s statement, but he said you’re free to go.”
She slid stiffly from the back of the ambulance. “I’m going to wait for him.”
“We figured you would. We’ll wait, too.”
“What about your cub?” she asked Rory.
“Aaron is staying the night with Ma and his cousins tonight. It’s no trouble to stay. Besides, Cody is calling a meeting.”
“Oh.” Cora floundered, unsure of where she stood with private crew affairs.
Cody stood some distance off, leaning against his truck beside Dade, but he arched his gaze to Cora and called, “You’re in this now. The meeting involves you, too, if you’re up for coming.”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “Where should I meet you?” Her words came out hollow with shock, but that was to be expected. She felt like she was floating in a dream. Or a nightmare.
Cody waved to the passing fire truck, and the oldest Keller brother, Gage, waved from behind the wheel. The fire department showed up about five minutes after she’d called 911 in case more help was needed.
“Once the wrecker finishes towing Boone’s truck, you can ride with Rory and me to the station. Gage is on shift, but he needs to hear what really happened, too.
“But Boone is already telling the police what really happened.”
Cody cocked an eyebrow and waited.
Right. He wanted to hear what really really happened. As in, the information Boone and his animal had been able to pick up that the police wouldn’t know what to do with.
Quinn was running her hands through Cora’s hair in a soothing rhythm. “Looks like Monroe is finished with Boone’s statement.”
Her heart clenched with worry as Boone shook the officer’s hand and took an offered sheet of paper. He talked low to Monroe, folding the paperwork absently, then he turned his gaze toward her, as if he could feel her watching. She couldn’t read Boone’s expression at all. Closed off, for certain, but beyond that, she didn’t see worry or pain, or even anger. He was shutting down again, and the ache in her chest bloomed wider.
There was no stiff limp in his gait as he sauntered toward her, and she sighed in relief that he hadn’t been hurt. She hadn’t been able to tell before, but now it was clear that good old shifter healing had done him well. Crimson had dried over half of his face, but no cuts remained.
She walked toward him, tossing off the blanket that had settled over her shoulders. Unable to help herself, she jogged, then ran and launched herself into his arms, desperate to feel his warmth and reassure herself that he was still here—still alive. He hesitated for the span of a breath, but then wrapped his powerful arms around her ribs and lifted her off the ground.
Burying his face against her hair, he inhaled deeply. “Tell me you’re okay.”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. The paramedics cleared me. Just a little bit of a stiff neck and some tiny cuts and that’s all. You shielded me from the worst of it and kept me from hitting the window, Boone. How did you react so fast?”
“I saw how scared your eyes were, and I don’t know. I just reacted. I just needed you to be okay from whatever was coming.”
“What kind of trouble are you in?” she breathed against his neck.
“The same kind we’ve always been in, Cora.” His tone hardened. “But now it’s worse because you are involved.”
&
nbsp; A new pair of headlights chased the shadows away for a moment, and she frowned at a solid black van, washed to shining. It stopped in front of Monroe’s patrol car where he had locked their attacker in the back.
“Who’s that?”
Boone settled her on her feet and turned. “That would be IESA’s get-out-of-jail free card. Watch this.”
A man in a suit that matched the attacker’s exited the van and strode toward Monroe. He talked low and handed Monroe a sheet of paper, then crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at the shorter police officer as he read it. Monroe shook his head slowly back and forth. When he looked up at the stranger, his eyes were filled with disbelief and fury. Clipped words cracked across the whipping breeze, but she didn’t catch any of it.
“At least Monroe is fighting it,” Cody said as he approached with the others.
“Yeah,” Boone said. “Look there, the other deputies are arguing with him, too. Surprising. At least they are trying to get justice for us.”
“Doesn’t exist,” Dade murmured from behind his alpha.
“But it will,” Quinn said.
“Maybe,” Cody muttered as the man handed Monroe a cell phone, then sidled the officer and opened the back of the cop car. “But not tonight.”
Cora guffawed. “Wait, they’re releasing him? But he tried to kill us!”
Boone made a ticking sound behind his teeth and twitched his head. His odd-colored gaze flicked to her, reflecting oddly in the flashing lights, then panned to the gathered crowd on the sidewalk, about twenty strong now. “Not here, Cora. Come on.”
Numbly, she followed the Kellers and their mates as she watched the police taking the handcuffs from the attacker’s wrists. When he gave her a shark grin, full of dark promise that this wasn’t over, fear chilled her from the middle out, turning her veins to ice.
Boone appeared beside her, blocking her view of the evil man as a soft snarl unfurled in his chest. Instant warmth flooded her as he draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. His attention was on the man, but his fingers squeezed her upper arm in reassurance.
