Retribution (Moonstruck Genesis #4)

Chapter 8

HANNAH CHEWED her lips and looked to Mac for direction. He squatted next to Sean, his eyes on the injured woman. “We aren’t sure, but we believe you were in a car wreck. We found a vehicle in the canal.”

She blinked several times, her brow furrowed. “Okay.” Her gaze lingered on each of the people around her. “Do you know me?”

“Not…exactly.” The blond woman answered the question. Hannah. She’d introduced herself.

Again, memories swirled but knife-sharp pain lanced through her head. She squinted her eyes shut. When she opened them, the men had moved away and the tall, russet-haired man who’d found her in the swamp crouched beside her. He took her hand, his touch gentle, but possessive as he laced his fingers with hers. She looked up at him though his gaze was locked on the Hulk on the other side.

“Dude, I need to check her vitals, okay?”

The man holding her hand nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

While the Hulk—Boomer, she corrected. That’s what the veterinarian had called him. Jacey. That blond’s name was Jacey. Jacey. Boomer. Hannah. Antoine. Who were the others? And why did Boomer and all the men but Antoine seem familiar? Boomer fastened a blood pressure cuff around her arm and did other things that seemed normal for a medical exam.

The huge guy with a close-shaved head added the next bit of information. “The car we think you were driving was a rental. We found the paperwork. The name listed was Debra. Debra Collier.”

Debra? That didn’t sound quite right. She wasn’t a Debra. And she certainly wasn’t a Debbie. “Are you sure that was me?”

The man rubbed the palm of his hand over his head and glanced toward the older blond. She answered for him. “Yes. We’re sure. We…met. Once. A long time ago.”

She knitted her brows together. The blond was lying, but how did she know that. Oh, they’d likely met, but it wasn’t just once and it wasn’t that long ago. Were these people the cause of her accident?

“Those men!” She jerked her hand free and sat up, crabbing away from everyone but was drawn up short by the hold on her hand. “Those three men in the boat. Who were they?” She turned stricken eyes to her would-be rescuer. “They had guns. They were going to shoot me.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, god. I had a gun.”

Before she could react, Antoine gathered her into his arms. She resisted for a moment then a wave of emotion rolled over her. She felt safe and wasn’t that a weird thought. The man holding her had killed three men. At least she assumed he had. She stared into his eyes and something wild flickered there. Something fierce. Something…wolfish. Wolf. There’d been a wolf. No. It must have been a dog. A crossbreed or something.

“It be okay, chère . You are mine, bébé . I take care of you.”

Part of her resisted his claim, but something else deep inside unfurled like a rosebud reaching for the sun. She almost laughed at the girlish thought. Somehow, she knew she was not a girlie girl and never had been. But at the same time, this man’s claim on her filled a deeply feminine need she’d evidently buried. The idea at once repulsed and intrigued her.

“DJ.” She startled herself by saying the initials. “Not Debra. DJ. People call me DJ.”

“Antoine?” Boomer nudged the other man. “Will you carry her inside?”

“What? No. I can walk.”

“Really? Have you looked at your feet?”

She bent her knee and curled her right foot up so she could see the sole. Cuts and bruises covered almost every surface. “Oh.”

Without a word, Antoine surged to his feet, bent, and lifted her into his arms. She was not dainty by any definition of that word yet he had no trouble and, she felt all…squishy inside—feminine and petite. In a few long strides, he entered the cabin and carefully placed her on the bed. His bed. Her heart rate doubled and the core of her throbbed. She remembered their encounter earlier in the swamp. The one where he’d first insisted she was his. God but she wanted him then. And now. She couldn’t decide if she was happy others crowded into the small space so he couldn’t follow through on his promise of claiming her or whether she wanted them gone so she could jump the man standing next to the bed.

“Antoine, will you get on the bed?” Jacey nodded toward the headboard. “We don’t have any Novocain and debriding her feet is not going to feel good. We’ve got to get all the crud out so there’s no infection. If you hold her, that will help. Okay?”

Silently, Antoine crawled behind her. He spread his legs then pulled her up against his chest, his arms around her waist, his muscular thighs caging hers in a sensual embrace. His erection nestled against the small of her back and she couldn’t stop the soft sigh of pleasure escaping as she settled against him.

The contented feelings lasted all of about five minutes while they gathered supplies. Then Boomer grabbed one foot, Jacey the other, and she screamed as it felt like they took wire brushes to her sensitive soles.

Antoine flinched even as the deep rumbling growl echoed from his chest. The logical, human part of his brain understood Jacey and Boomer only did what was necessary but this was his mate and they were hurting her. He gritted his teeth until he could feel them almost crack, his jaw tense. His wolf paced restlessly, teasing his skin so that his muscles rippled and he fought the urge to change, fought the need to lash out and bloody those who only meant to help.

When it was over, the Wolves and their ladies retreated, leaving DJ and Antoine alone. Exhausted and in pain, she clung to this stranger who was quickly filling her heart with ideas. He settled her into a comfortable position, her head resting on his shoulder, one arm around her back, his hand cupping her hip while his other hand soothed her by combing through her thick, silky hair. She dozed off as one of the pills Boomer had handed her with a bottle of water kicked in.

Out in the clearing, the Wolves held a powwow.

“Is it too much to ask that she never remember?” Hannah was only half-way kidding. “We could construct a past for her, one where she belonged here.”

Izzy nodded as she leaned against Rudy’s chest. His arms snugged around her waist. “Antoine will not let her go. We can hope that she will adjust even if she fully remembers who she is.”

“Did she recognize you, Sean?” Mac’s gaze didn’t leave the cabin’s door.

“There was a flicker there, but no, I don’t think she’s placed me. Or any of us.”

“It’s a charlie foxtrot.” Hannah kicked at the grass with the toe of her boot. “You’re sure those three were Black Root?”

Mac, Nate, and Sean all nodded, but a low whistle distracted them before the conversation could continue. Lightfoot had taken high cover and was on the lookout for intruders. His signal put them all on alert. In a series of hand signals, the sniper conveyed that the sheriff was headed their way.

Isabelle ran to the cabin, peeked in and told Antoine to stay put, that she and Rudy would deal with the sheriff. Everyone else scattered into the woods, taking the ATVs with them. Lightfoot remained high in the old cypress he’d taken as his lookout nest.

A few minutes later, the sheriff’s SUV scraped along the overgrown road and lumbered into the clearing. Sheriff Thibodeaux climbed out, settled his gun belt around his hips and stalked toward them.

“Isabelle.”

“Sheriff.”

“Mr. Tornjak.”

“Sheriff Thibodeaux.”

The three of them stood there while the two men assessed each other until Izzy broke the spell.

“Why you come all d’way out here, Sheriff?” Izzy dropped into the cadence and accent of her youth without thought.

“Antoine here?”

“No, sir. Why you need t’see him?”

“Been some strange t’ings goin’ on out in d’swamp. Thought he might’a seen sumthin’. When he be back?”

“Not sure.” Izzy offered a delicate shrug of one shoulder all the while maintaining a guileless expression. “You know Antoine. He be a force all to himself.”

The sheriff pulled a bandanna out of his hip pocket and removed his hat with his other hand. He wiped his forehead then the inside band of the felt Stetson that was part of his uniform no matter the time of year. His gaze slipped past Izzy and Rudy, lasering in on the cabin’s door.

“Y’all don’t mind if I jus’ go look for m’self, do ya?”

“Go right ahead, Sheriff, but like my wife, I wonder why you came all the way out here to talk to Antoine?”

Thibodeaux huffed but stopped his forward progress. “Why would a deputy from the US Marshals Service be lookin’ for y’all?”

Rudy’s expression remained stoic. The sheriff was playing Texas Hold ’Em with the wrong Wolf. “I have no idea. Why do you think he was looking for us?”

A sly smile tugged the older man’s cheeks. “Who said it was a he?”

“A woman then? Interesting.”

“I thought so. She had a whole list o’names she was damn curious about. Includin’ yers, Izzy. An’ yer man’s.” He settled his hat back on his head but tilted it back with one finger to the front brim. “Wanna know what I think? I think there be a whole lot more goin’ on in my parish than I know about. An’ dat there makes me kinda cranky, yeah?”

In the next instant, the sheriff trotted up on the porch and jerked the door open. His eyes swept the place, focusing first on the bed then on the couch where a big wolf lounged. “Y’all come by t’feed Antoine’s pet wolf?”

“No, sir.” Izzy stepped up beside him. “Grand-mère sent us over t’invite Antoine to the fais do do she be plannin’ this weekend, but he wasn’t here.”

The sheriff stared at the wolf. The wolf stared back, unblinking, ears perked forward, ruff bristled slightly. “Miz Camille gonna make her boudin and jambalaya, I mebbe stop by on my rounds and have some fer m’self.”

Izzy laughed and tugged on the sheriff’s arm, pulling him back out on the porch and down the steps. “I be sure t’tell her dat so she be fixin’ some jus’ fer you, Sheriff Thibodeaux.”

They watched him cross the yard, climb into his SUV, turn the big vehicle around, and head back down the road to civilization. A few minutes later, Lightfoot whistled the all clear. Izzy tapped on the door and opened it a crack.

“You decent, Antoine?”

“Yeah.”

She opened the door all the way, but didn’t go in. Antoine again wore his tattered jeans as he knelt beside the bed. He tugged on the edge of a quilt peeking from under the bed frame. In moments, DJ—still asleep—appeared. Easing her into his arms, Antoine placed her back on the bed. Once she seemed settled, he urged Izzy out onto the porch where Rudy waited.

“Maybe Hannah has the right idea. It would be better if she never gets her memory back.” Rudy would never interfere in another Wolf’s mating, except when his own mate and pack was threatened. All bets were off then.

“I will take care of her.” Antoine remained insistent.

Against his better judgment, Rudy agreed, but with a caveat. “She cannot be allowed to endanger the women or children, Antoine. Do you understand?” He expected the other Wolf to bristle and was surprised at the other man’s answer.

“I will take her away before dat happens. Isabelle. You. D’others. You are my family. Nobody touches my family.”