Hungry Like the Wolf(77)

That thought led to a place she didn’t want to go. Had Gage played her over the last several days, had he slept with her, because he was worried she’d find out he was a werewolf?

She opened her mouth to ask him when he slipped one arm under her legs and the other around her shoulder and swung her up in his arms like he was some damn caveman. She immediately struggled to free herself. “Let me go!”

He did, but only after carrying her thirty feet away from the burning barn. She stumbled backward and fell on her butt.

She glared up at him. “What the hell was that about?”

“That.”

Gage pointed at the barn, which was nothing more than a huge bonfire now. As she watched, the front wall fell in on itself, beams and flaming pieces of wood going everywhere, including where she and Gage had been standing.

He had saved her life—again.

She frowned as she realized the structure had collapsed on top of the three bodies lying outside the door of the barn, too. There’d be no mangled bodies for Gage to have to explain. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he had orchestrated that.

He held out his hand for her. After several long moments, she finally took it and let him help her up. But the moment she was on her feet, she put some distance between them. It was a joke—she’d seen how fast he could move.

In the distance, she could hear sirens approaching. Someone had called the cops. Gage swore under his breath.

“Mackenzie, you have to promise me you’ll never tell anyone about what you saw. If you breathe a word of this, my life, and the lives of every man on the SWAT team will be destroyed.”

His face was so earnest, it almost brought fresh tears to her eyes. “It won’t be like that, Gage. You’re a cop. You were defending us. You’ll be a hero. That’s the way I’ll write it.”

The sirens got louder as they drew closer.

Gage’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, if your editor doesn’t demand you change it,” he said bitterly. “Even if he doesn’t, what happens after that, huh? When the other reporters who aren’t as idealistic as you get ahold of the footage on that camera of yours and see how I tore that man apart? You think they’ll treat us like heroes? They’ll think we’re monsters.”

Mac flushed. She couldn’t very well say he was wrong when she’d thought the same thing a few moments ago. “It’s like I told you back at the restaurant. Secrets are better when they’re out in the open.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” he growled.

“People like me have a right to know that people like you exist.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” he demanded. “You were terrified of me, and we’ve spent the past two days in bed together. How do you think the rest of the world is going to react? The ones who don’t want to hunt us down and kill us outright will want to capture us and cut us up for research.”

“That’s not true.” Mac shook her head. She refused to believe they lived in a world where people would allow something like that to happen. “This isn’t the Dark Ages. People don’t go around in mobs carrying torches and pitchforks anymore. Not everyone is as bad as you seem to think.”

He snorted. “You’re right. Sometimes they’re worse. Walter Hardy comes to mind. Or have you forgotten he just sent men to kill us?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten,” she said. “All the more reason to let him and people like him know what you are. What the whole SWAT team is. He’d be terrified to go after you.”

The lights from the police cars flashed against the trees, getting closer. Gage muttered something under his breath. “I’m not going to be able to talk you out of writing this story, am I?”

Mac didn’t answer. It was her job to keep people informed. Why couldn’t he understand that? More importantly, why couldn’t he trust her to handle this in the best possible way?

The same look of sadness was back in his eyes, this time mixed with hurt. “At least give me twenty-four hours before you run it. I think you owe me that much, don’t you?”

If it were anyone else, she never would have agreed, but he was right—after what they’d shared, she owed him that much. In truth, she owed him a hell of a lot more. But she wouldn’t be doing her job as a journalist if she didn’t write this story. And maybe after it ran, he’d see that she was right and they could get back to that place they’d been before Hardy’s hired guns had tried to kill them.

Realizing she hadn’t answered his question, she nodded.

Half a dozen police cars came into view, their lights bouncing off the farmer’s field as they navigated the uneven terrain.