Wolf in Plain Sight Page 8

  Max’s first shot struck the wolf in the shoulder. The wolf staggered back and then shook himself. Rather than doing the expected and charging toward Max, he leapt into the air, bypassing Max. In a second bound, he broke through the large plate glass window, landing on the boardwalk outside.

  Max had only a moment to spare a thought for Pia, before a dark-furred wolf crashed into him.

  He rolled with the beast, struggling to bring up his gun.

  The wolf clamped his teeth over the shoulder of Max’s flak jacket in a bone-crunching grip and shook his powerful head.

  Max flailed, helpless for a moment, and then clutched the fur at the wolf’s neck. All his strength focused on raising his gun. He pressed the barrel beneath the wolf’s jaw and pulled the trigger.

  In a spray of blood and gray matter, the wolf crumpled on top of Max. He shoved it away and struggled to his feet.

  Joe and Quentin battled the third wolf. By the looks of things, Max almost felt sorry for the beast. In the close confines of the bar, the vamps had forgone their weapons for hand-to-hand combat. They wore their vamp masks and traded blows and bites with the wolf. The muddy brown wolf was quickly losing the fight. Blood streamed from his mouth and nose, his chest heaved.

  Max swung back to the window and realized Pia’s weapon was silent. With a roar of anger, he ran to the door and jerked it open. The boardwalk was empty.

  His heart thudded. The wolf had taken Pia—might already have destroyed her. But which way had he gone?

  “Pia! Can you hear me?” he shouted into his radio. He stood still, trying to separate the shouts and sounds of fighting inside the bar. Then he heard it—feminine gasps. She was hurt and scared, but she was alive. “Baby, hold on. I’m coming.”

  The streetlamp barely illuminated the beach beyond the wooden planks. The shadows hid the wolf’s tracks. He jumped over the railing onto the sand below.

  They could be anywhere. He had to find her. But first, he needed to be able to follow the scent of the wounded male.

  Max stripped open the Velcro fastenings and dropped the jacket to the ground. He ripped at the rest of his clothing and equipment until he stood naked beneath the lamplight.

  Please don’t let me be too late.

  Pulling strength from the glare of the full moon, Max let the transformation come over him in a rush powered by his anger. His teeth slid from the roof of his mouth. His face stretched, the bones cracking as they reached outward. Then he dropped to the sand as his body lengthened and fur sprouted from his skin. Within seconds he caught the musty scent of the male wolf—and the acrid smell of a woman’s fear.

  Max, the wolf, leapt from the boardwalk onto the beach and followed the trail of the other male’s scent. Lost was Pia’s name. Only a vision of a dark-haired woman with soft skin and round, wide eyes shimmered in his mind to match the scent. His strides stretched as he neared them, the woman and the golden wolf, and a deep-throated roar broke from him.

  The golden wolf spun to face him. He held the woman by her torso, his large jaws clamped over the black covering encasing her upper body. The wolf was a powerful, potent adversary—and this close his scent was…familiar.

  Weakened, the woman beat the golden wolf about the head with her fists, trying to dislodge his powerful jaws.

  The dark wolf lifted is head and howled. His mate was in danger. Another had attacked what belonged to him alone. Fur lifted on his shoulders and back as he stalked toward the rogue wolf.

  Pia gasped in agony. She figured the enormous wolf that held her had crushed every rib along her right side. Why he hadn’t killed her outright? He could have so easily. Sure he’d go for Max inside the bar, she’d stared transfixed with horror when the wolf broke through the glass and landed beside her.

  When he’d swung toward her, she hadn’t time to raise her weapon before he was upon her. In the attack, she’d lost her weapon, and could only offer a feeble defense once he’d crushed her side with his enormous jaws, preventing her from taking a full breath. Then he’d lifted her and ran into the darkness while she flailed like a rag doll.

  She’d thought he took a bullet in the shoulder, but the wound didn’t seem to slow him. Obviously, someone had missed the two vital organs that could have brought him down. But why hadn’t the silver bullet affected him? She wondered if perhaps it had passed through him, and therefore the poisonous affect of the silver hadn’t had a chance to do its work on his body.

  Now a second wolf, slightly larger than the monster that held her, stalked toward them. His coat glistened like polished coal in the moonlight and rippled with the flex of his powerful muscles. Believing the next few seconds would be her last, Pia’s thoughts skipped to Max. She prayed hard that he was safe, and harder still that he’d find happiness.

  The black wolf growled and snapped its teeth, and suddenly, she was released. She hit the ground and rolled to the side. Searing pain took what little air she could suck into her lungs. Slowly, she came to her knees.

  The black wolf sidled toward her, answering the golden one’s growls with a rumbling roar that emanated from deep inside his chest. The sound sent shivers up her spine. He stood between her and the golden wolf now.

  Despite her pain, Pia tried to edge backward, but the black wolf turned and nudged her with a cold nose—an oddly tender action that confused her. Had he just told her to sit tight?

  Dimly, Pia grew aware of shouts from the direction of the boardwalk. If she could have drawn a deep breath, she would have screamed, but the effort to breathe was quickly diminishing her strength.

  Then the black wolf raised his head and howled.

  “Over here,” Quentin shouted.

  The golden one snarled and darted forward, snapping at the black’s front hocks.

  The black answered with a lunge and sank his teeth into the neck of his foe.

  The two, well matched in size and strength, rolled in the sand, their snarling growls growing deeper, their gnashing teeth inflicting more vicious wounds by the second.

  Pia tried to retain her mask and vamp bulk, but she felt her strength seep from her body until her human form slipped to the sand, panting to ease the pain burning her lungs.

  The pounding of booted feet hitting the sand drew nearer, and the golden wolf wriggled free of the black’s hold before dashing away into the darkness.

  Then the black wolf turned back to her, his fur glistening now from saliva and blood. He padded toward her, his head down, his chest heaving, until his face was inches from hers.

  “Pia, hold very still. We’re going to take him out.” Quentin’s harsh monster-voice echoed as if rising from a deep well.

  She stared at the wolf, drawn by the unblinking gaze of his gold eyes. He was magnificent. Larger than any wolf she’d ever seen in a zoo. His head was broad, his neck thick, and his chest wide and deeply muscled. His black coat looked soft and lustrous. Slowly, she lifted her hand beneath his snout, half expecting he’d bite it off.

  Instead, he gently nudged her palm with his nose and lowered himself to the sand.

  “Don’t hurt him,” she whispered, raking her fingers through the matted fur around his face. He smelled like a dog—fresh, slightly musty, except for the tangy scent of the blood on his neck and shoulders. “He’s a friend. He saved my life.” She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but the certainty grew stronger as she stroked his fur.

  “We have to destroy him, Pia,” Quentin said. “He’s part of the pack that’s been murdering humans and vamps.”

  “That’s not true,” she gasped to get the words past her lips. “He…wasn’t inside. Came later.”

  “Anyone seen Max?” Joe asked.

  Pia peered up to see Joe and another officer, Phil she guessed, join Quentin. Their weapons were raised and pointed straight at the dark creature beside her. She struggled to her knees and crawled in front of the wolf.

  “Dammit, Pia. Get out of the way.” Quentin stepped forward, but the wolf’s growl halted him.

  Gras
ping his fur, Pia leaned into the wolf. “Go!” she whispered. “I’m safe.” She wasn’t sure he understood.

  He whined and nuzzled his snout against her neck.

  She turned slowly to the men. Their faces were hard, determined. They’d shoot him without a second thought—unless she pulled out a bigger weapon. “Shoot him, Quentin…and I’ll tell Darcy…exactly where that bullet hit you…and who dug it out of your ass.”

  “Pia!” Quentin’s voice rose in warning.

  “I’m not kidding.”

  Quentin’s mask melted. “For fuck sake. He’s a goddamn werewolf—not a lap dog. He’s dangerous.”

  “I can start with where the surgery was performed…”

  Quentin blew out a breath. “Lower your weapons,” he said, his voice sounding as disappointed as a child denied his dessert.

  Pia shifted back to the wolf. “Go!”

  But he lay there, and his tongue lapped at her fingers.

  Tears filled her eyes. Her chest burned like fire, and this stupid lupine was quickly losing his chance to lift his leg on another fire hydrant. “Go!” she shouted, shoving him as hard as she could manage.

  Finally, the wolf rose to his feet. With a glare at the men standing beyond her, he turned and loped into the darkness.

  Quentin stepped forward and knelt beside her in the sand. “Are you all right?” he asked, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear.

  Fighting to keep from crying like a baby now the danger was past, she asked, “Did you get the other two wolves?”

  “Yeah,” Joe said, as he joined them. He reached for the fastenings on her jacket and stripped them open. “What the hell happened with the light-colored one?”

  “Blackie chased him off.”

  Joe’s eyebrows lifted and he gently shoved the jacket off her shoulders. “Blackie? You want a pet that bad, why don’t you move in with Max?”

  “Max isn’t housebroken.” Pia winced as she pulled her arms from the jacket. “Where is he, anyway?”

  “That’s a good question,” Joe murmured. “Quentin, you want to go back and see where he went—he might have followed another trail. If that yellow dog circles back…”

  “Do I have to save his ass?” Quentin asked.

  “You do unless you want me to tell your secrets, Quentin,” Pia said, working her face into a scowl.

  Cursing, Quentin swiped her flak jacket from the ground and headed back the way they’d come.

  “You must be feeling better if you want to boss him around,” Joe murmured.

  “I am.” Thank God for a vamp’s rapid healing. She could actually draw a deep breath. “Just help me to my feet.”

  “You are one stubborn woman.” Joe bent to place his shoulder beneath her arm and helped her rise to her feet.

  Pia swayed, and then pushed away from Joe. “We have to look for Max.”

  They walked back to the boardwalk. Joe assisted her as she climbed the steps. A crowd of black-clad SU officers hovered outside the Piki Tiki. The first of the body bags passed out the door.

  Pia scanned the crowd, anxious to find Max to know he’d escaped injury. But she was disappointed when she didn’t see him.

  “He can take care of himself,” Joe said, quietly.

  “Is it so obvious I’m worried about him?”

  “You’re biting your lip.”

  “Who are you worried about?” Max asked, from directly behind her.

  Pia screeched and whirled. She launched herself against his chest, throwing her arms around his neck to hug him hard. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Hunting.” He hugged her back.

  Pain shot through her side, and she gasped.

  Max dropped his arms and tried to step back.

  Pia wouldn’t let go of his neck and snuggled close to his chest again.

  “Are you all right?” His arms closed gently around her this time.

  “Mmmm. Fine now.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her hands up and down his back. His bare back. Tilting her head, she gazed up at him. “What happened to your jacket and shirt?”

  “I wrestled with a wolf—they stink.”

  Something in his eyes told her there was more to the explanation. But she’d kept secrets. In fact, she still had one, so she figured he was entitled to a few of his own. She snuggled closer to his chest and inhaled. He did smell like a dog—just like Blackie had.

  “Next time, let someone know where the hell you’ve gone,” Quentin said.

  Pia lifted her head to watch Quentin’s approach. When she did, she noticed for the first time the angry red scratches on Max’s torso and the deeper cuts on the side of his neck. “Why the hell did you remove your flak jacket?”

  Max’s smile was strained. “So I could move faster.”

  “You need to have those seen to.”

  “Later. We have some clean-up here, before I can leave.”

  “For fucksake, get out of here,” Quentin said, waving him away. “Stow your gear in the SU van. Joe will make sure it gets turned in. Go to the hospital.”

  Max stiffened.

  Pia reached for his hand. “He’s right—even if it’s Quentin saying it—you need to go to the hospital.” She tugged to pull him along.

  Max walked stiff-legged behind her. When they reached the car, he pulled the keys from his pocket.

  “You’re not driving,” Pia said, holding out her hand, palm-up.

  Max planted his hands on his hips—an intimidating look from such a large man. “If your driving is as dismal as your shooting, I want to be behind the wheel.”

  She jutted her chin. She wasn’t backing down from this one. “You’re not driving. You could pass out on the way to the hospital.”

  “I’m not hurt that badly—and what about you? You need to have those ribs seen to.”

  “I’m a vampire. I heal fast.” The way the blood zoomed through her veins now, she was well on her way to recovery. Arguing with Max ought to be prescribed for pain-relief.

  “I’m only scratched.”

  “Those don’t look like scratches to me,” she said, pointing at his neck. “Give me the keys.”

  He sighed and looked toward the star-bright sky, stubborn tension bunching the muscles of his arms. “You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?”

  Pia grew still. “Is that what you want?”

  Max lowered his gaze. He stared at her for a long moment.

  So long, Pia worried he would tell her something she didn’t want to hear.

  Instead, he laid the keys in her palm. “Take me home.”

  She closed her hand around the keys and dragged in a relieved breath. “To the hospital, you mean.”

  “I have supplies at home. You can take care of me there.”

  Taking him home meant he wanted to have sex. Her heart leapt at the prospect. “Is your tetanus up to date?”

  “Last year. And werewolves don’t carry rabies.” He raised her chin with a finger, and his thumb caressed her lower lip. “Take me home, Pia.”

  Although framed as a demand, his voice held an invitation. A warm, softly feminine feeling, a feeling she hadn’t known for a very long time, settled inside her chest.

  But the wounds on his neck were blood-encrusted. He might not think he needed a hospital, but she couldn’t bear it if something bad were to happen. She pushed his head up to get a closer look at his neck. “Were you bitten?”

  Max’s expression shuttered. “I’m fine. Take me home, Pia.”

  She jerked open the car door. “Fine. Get in the car.”

  Max let himself into the car and leaned back against the seat.

  She walked around the car, slid inside, and started it before looking over at him. “You’d tell me if one of those bastards bit you, wouldn’t you? I wouldn’t want you going all furry on me.”

  Max leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes, shutting out Pia’s face. Her worry warmed his heart.

  If she only knew…

  Chapter Sev
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  Pia pushed Max into a chair in the kitchen, and busied herself with the contents of his first aid kit. If she thought he might let her, she’d just lick the wounds until they closed. But she was pretty sure Max would be funny about vampire “gifts”.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Max said quietly. “I’ll get a shower.”

  “Just stop, will you?” She grabbed cotton gauze and peroxide and hurried back. “Is this a macho thing? You have some ugly scratches.”

  His hand closed over hers. “I didn’t bring you here to play nurse.”

  “You didn’t bring me here—I did the driving.” She uncapped the bottle. “These scratches could get infected.”

  Standing between his open legs, she poured some of the peroxide on the gauze and wiped at the bloody wounds on his chest. “I should really be pissed. You made me wear that heavy vest, but you couldn’t keep yours on for five minutes.”

  “It got in the way,” he murmured.

  The blood dissolved, and she used a fresh piece of gauze to blot the rest of the dark brown smears from his chest and neck. When she was finished, she drew back her hand. The wounds were nearly healed. Only faint pink tracings remained on his skin.

  Her mouth gaped, and she looked up. How was it possible? Her gaze locked with his.

  Max’s mouth curved into a feral grin. “I told you I didn’t need it.”

  She swallowed, suddenly uneasy. His stare was too intent—too predatory. “You heal fast.”

  “Fast as you,” he whispered. He trailed his fingers from her shoulders to her wrists.

  Shivering with equal parts of fear and desire, she stepped back. His hands closed on her hips. She jerked away—but he held her fast. The strength of his grip was surprising—inhuman.

  She pushed back a niggling suspicion, one that would make her desire for this man a betrayal to her own kind. “Y—you must have some metabolism,” she said, dropping the gauze to the floor.