Running with the Pack: Cannon Pack, Book 3 (3 page)

“I saw you with them.”

“You’re right. I was with the hunters and I admit it. But I’m not really a hunter. I go on hunts with them so I can try to help people like you.” She took a step nearer, then paused, waited for the shifter to tell her to stop, then took another step. “Are you able to come out from behind there? Or do you want me to come to you?”

“First you laugh at me and now you want to get closer? You must have a death wish, hunter.”

Lauren heard the pain of the human inside the animal. She smiled reassuringly and forced herself to relax. Or at least look like she was. “I can see how you’d think that. And I’m sorry about the giggles. But I can’t help it. I do that when I’m nervous.” So much for acting relaxed.

Knowing she risked her life, Lauren walked around the boxes and peered into the darkness. Brilliant amber eyes locked on to her, making her pulse jump in an uneven rhythm. She had to keep the connection and make her believe.
She wasn’t sure how long they stared at each other but, at last, the werewolf blinked and crawled from behind her barricade. Lauren knelt beside the animal and flashed her light along its front flank. “Where are you hurt?”

“Why? So you can shoot me in a different spot?”

A deep breath helped to calm her down. “I put my gun down, remember?” All she could do was hope the werewolf would sense her sincerity.

The shifter answered with a guttural sound, then motioned with her head toward her rear flank. Lauren swung the light on the area and resisted the urge to gasp. Blood covered her, tracking a bright path from her hindquarters and down her leg to run between her claws. Abruptly, an image of another wounded shifter broke into Lauren’s memory.

Blood oozed from the fatal wound, gushing from the open hole in the werewolf’s chest with each labored pant she took. Her breath came out in ragged puffs, spittle inching from the corner of her jaw. Cold horror filled the werewolf’s eyes and a defiant snarl drew back her lips. Her ears lay back and she tried to lift her head, tried to get up, but couldn’t. Other bullet wounds scattered over her lean body drew the strength from her, spilling her life’s blood to the ground around her, but she held on.

“No, please!” Her breaths, harsh puffs of air, accentuated the anger behind her words.

Lauren had known werewolves could speak, yet she hadn’t believed it until now. Her pulse quickened. She certainly hadn’t expected to hear such a human voice coming from an animal. The shifter’s plea wrenched her heart. She reached out to touch the dying shifter, to apologize, to give her comfort. If only she’d known the truth…

Lauren jolted at the touch on her shoulder and snatched back her hand. She could sense John lifting his gun to aim, knew she needed to stop him, but couldn’t. “No, John. Don’t.”

The echo of the rifle’s retort shook her.

Lauren squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that at least in her memory’s eye, she could block out the vision of the shifter’s face shattering into bits of blood, flesh and fur.

“Go away.”

Lauren’s shudder worked the memory out of her body so she could finally open her eyes. Retrieving the duffel bag, she held up her hands at the shifter’s warning growl, then carefully dug out the disinfectant and gauze, placing them on the ground beside her. “I need to clean and bandage your wound. Will you let me? Although I know you heal faster in animal form, if you became human again, I could take you to the hospital.”

“And how would you explain the gunshot wound?” The wolfish lips pulled back into a grimace. “Like I’d ever make it that far.”

If only the shifter would be reasonable and let her take care of her. “Okay, if you don’t want medical help, how about getting help from your friends?” She slipped a hand into her pocket and brought out her cell phone. “Give me a number and I’ll call for you.”

The shifter’s laugh was low and mean. “Do you think I’m stupid? You want me to call my friends so you and the other hunters can ambush them.”

“No, you’re wrong.” Putting the phone down, Lauren poured disinfectant over the gauze and pressed it to the wound. “You’ve got to let me help you. I don’t want to see you die.”

The werewolf let out a long moan, but Lauren took encouragement from the fact that she didn’t say anything. Or was her wound sapping her strength too much to speak any longer?

“Get away from her.”

The warning was more growl than words, but Lauren understood. Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, she swiveled around to find a large black werewolf standing behind her, majestic and commanding. But it wasn’t fear that overwhelmed her.
Holy shit, he’s amazing
. Silky black hair covered his body with no marks of gray or white. The only color in his body came from his angry eyes and his long, white teeth. Her gaze slid down from the blazing amber eyes. Fangs. Big, mean, dripping-with-saliva fangs. She gathered her composure to speak. “I’m trying to help her.”

“Like your kind helped her earlier?”

His voice, low and masculine, sent shockwaves through her. He lowered his head another notch and glared at her. Yet, somehow, she wasn’t afraid.

She couldn’t help wondering what his human voice would sound like. “No, you don’t understand. I’m here to help her.”

He glanced at the rifle on the ground, then tilted his head at her. “Is that why you brought a gun along? To help her by putting her out of her misery?”

She gritted her teeth and fought back a string of curse words. Forget amazing. Now he was just irritating. “Would it be on the ground if that were my intention? I don’t know how long you’ve been watching, but—”

“Long enough.” He snarled, pulling back his gums to show more fangs. “Get away, hunter, before I forget to restrain myself and tear you apart.”

“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, watching 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.