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What This Wolf Wants(64)

By:Jennifer Dellerman


“And I’m not going to sit back and twiddle my thumbs waiting for you to start the generator and only then go check on Zan.”

“He might not even be hit, Jackie. There’s always the possibility he heard the bullet and ducked. Or it might just be a flesh wound.”

Jackie wasn’t taking that chance, and told Russell so. “I’m not willing to take that chance. If he is hurt, I can take care of him.”

“And whose going to take care of you?”

Jackie bared her teeth in the general direction of Russell’s voice. Another string of curses. “Fine. Dammit. But you’re wearing this.” Her arms were shoved into a vest followed by a backpack. The combined weight was so heavy and unexpected she nearly staggered. “The medical kit.”

He moved away from Jackie, murmured something low, sharing another moment with his wife. Then he grabbed Jackie’s arm and pulled her from the room. While her eyes adjusted to the dim light that filtered into his office, Russell shut a heavy door behind him and then slid a bookcase in front of it.

So that’s why she hadn’t noticed the door before. This particular wall of his office was lined with bookcases, the safe room hidden behind one of the panels. Maybe not the most original, but sneaky all the same.

Then they were on the move, Russell informing Jackie of Zan’s exact location as they headed for the kitchen. He pressed his back to the wall next to the outside door and peered out into the stormy night. The rain had let up some, the cloud cover not as thick. His eyes shot to hers, amber ringing the gray of his irises. Jackie knew his wolf was riding high. If she could shift forms, her beast would be dong the same. As it was, she could feel her animal lunging in her mind, anxious to get to it’s mate.

“I take it you know how to use a gun?”

“Yeah.” She held out her right hand. “Aim and pull the trigger until the bad thing goes away.”

Russell’s lip twitched. “Smart ass.” He handed her a thirty-eight special snub-nosed revolver. Proving she knew what she was doing, she flicked open the cylinder, checked it was loaded, and swung it shut with a flip of her wrist.

“Figured. Keep your eyes open and your head down. If you so much as get a scratch, not only will Zan have my hide, you’re grandfather will kick my ass ten ways to Sunday.”

“And you have a pup that’s going to need his father. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Muscles jerked in his jaw and he gave one last look back to where Marion waited behind a locked room. “I know.”

He scanned the exterior once more. “Time to go.”

Jackie followed Russell out, mimicking his stance, keeping low and moving quick. They parted ways on the patio, he went left, she went right. Warm rain dampened her hair and clothes as she raced for the tree line, arrowing toward Zan with purpose, acutely conscience of the danger awaiting her. She expected a gunshot at any moment as she crossed the too open grassy expanse, but she made it to the cover of the trees without incident. Once there, she pressed her back to one of the oaks and scanned her surroundings. The leaves blocked most of the rain but they also screened out the majority of the moonlight seeping through the clouds. Dancing shadows twisted in the remaining glow. It was dark and creepy. And very quiet.

Her eyesight might be no better than a human’s, but her sense of smell was much stronger. Breathing deep, head tilted up, she analyzed every scent she could. The metallic scent of blood was at the forefront, and even as her heart galloped in her chest, she reasoned with herself. Zan had dispatched one of the hunters just before he’d gone down, so the blood might be from the unknown individual.

Lips pursed, she peeked around the tree trunk, and caught a whiff of spice and energy. Zan.

She knew he was alive because the energy coming from him was pure anger. It made the hair on her arms stand on end and she didn’t know if she’d ever been more relieved in her life. He couldn’t be angry if he was dead.

To her right she spied a still form laying on the ground. Too slight to be Zan, but her professionalism kicked in and she scampered over to crouch by the body. Though she knew immediately this unknown man was dead, his head twisted at an impossible angle, she laid two fingers at the pulse of his neck.

Yep. Dead.

She rose, and was spun around. One large hand snatched the gun from hers, the other clutched her nape in a vise-like grip.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Zan shoved his face into hers until they were nose to nose.

Her back went ramrod straight and she went from worried to pissed in seconds flat. “We thought you’d been shot.”

Thunderstruck, Zan’s jaw dropped. “And what? You came out to see if I was dead so you wouldn’t have to make any hard choices?”