Chapter Twenty-nine
RILEY
Riley jolted awake as the car rocked, and something scraped the paintwork. Heart pounding, he thrust himself away from the noise. As his eyes cleared from sleep, he saw it—a dark wolf’s face looking in through the window by his feet.
Panicking, he pushed back hard against the door behind him, drawing his knees up in a futile attempt to protect himself as his gut clenched in terror. He’d thought Urban was okay with him staying, but he’d been wrong. Urban had sent the pack after him.
The wolf whined slightly and dropped down, only to rear up again, its paws set against the window. Riley froze. Something about the eyes, the tilt of the head... He didn’t know how, but he knew.
“Oh, God.” He flung himself across the seat, desperate to open the door, to get to Jason.
In his eagerness, he scrabbled uselessly at the handle. When he finally got the door open, a sound split the night air so loudly his ears rang with it, almost drowning out the high-pitched yelp that followed.
A yelp of pain. Jason was hurt. Some part of his brain, some deep survival instinct, put it all together way before his conscious mind, still half-asleep, had a hope of doing so.
“Stop!” he yelled, pushing open the door and practically falling out onto the asphalt. “For the love of God, don’t shoot!”
He looked around, heart beating rabbit-fast as he shook with panic. Jason was crouched in the shadow of the crumbling brick wall, making it impossible to see if he was hurt. But that cry had definitely been one of pain.
Movement caught his eye, and Riley looked back to see a man’s figure moving toward him. He was silhouetted by the bright streetlamp behind him, but there was no mistaking the measured threat in his tread. Nor the dull glint of the gun in his hand.
“Out of the way, boy,” a deep, gravelly voice said. The gun shifted, the barrel catching the light as he stepped forward. “That wolf was trying to break into your car. It’ll attack you if you get any closer.”
Riley’s heart beat even faster, his pulse sounding in his head. Not just at the gun but the glee in the man’s voice.
“He’s not a wolf—he’s a shifter. A person!” Riley yelled, furious and terrified.
“Who was attacking you. Out of my way.”
“He wasn’t—oh, Jesus, stop, would you?”
But he kept coming, and Riley had no choice but to keep himself between the man and Jason.
“He’s a shifter and he wasn’t attacking me,” he spat.
“Don’t matter none, he’s still a dirty animal,” the voice said, and Riley recognized the deep tones. They belonged to Lennox from the bar. There’d be no mercy for Jason from him.
“Jason, get out of here,” he yelled. “Now.”
“Move,” Lennox said. His voice was low and menacing, but Riley could hear the wild exhilaration running through it at the prospect of killing a shifter. He felt sick.
“If you shoot him, it’ll be murder,” Riley pleaded.
“Back off, or you get to be collateral damage.”
Riley swallowed hard against the blast of alcohol fumes that Lennox was breathing out. He was almost certainly drunk, but there was no way Riley was moving an inch. He couldn’t even take his eyes off Lennox long enough to see if Jason had gotten out of there. He just had to hope and pray he had.
“Listen to me,” he said, forcing his voice to stay calm, though every instinct told him it was a waste of breath. “That’s Jason, one of Sheriff Urban’s pack—”
There was a crack of laughter. “Sheriff? He’s nothing but a dirty shifter.”
The gun came up.
Riley’s stomach turned to ice. Lennox wouldn’t hesitate to shoot Jason. But maybe—maybe he’d hesitate to kill a human.
The thought kept Riley rooted where he stood, his body a shield between Lennox and Jason.
Lennox stepped forward, and Riley closed his eyes, muscles locking as he waited for the bullet. He wasn’t a hero. He didn’t want to die. But letting Jason be murdered wasn’t an option.
A sound ripped through the darkness, a vicious, guttural snarl that turned Riley’s bones to liquid. Centuries of inherited memory surged through him—the wild beasts that hid in the dark. He snapped his eyes open.
Jason exploded from the shadows. A streak of fur, of teeth, of unrelenting fury. His jaws slammed shut on Lennox’s arm, and Riley swore he heard the crack of shattering bone.
“Jason!” Riley yelled, terrified for him, but his voice was lost as another gunshot echoed in the night.
Cursing and snarling followed. Riley could see the figures locked together, but couldn’t tell what the hell was going on.
There was yet another shot and then the sound of something metallic falling to the hard pavement.
Inching forward, he realized the asshole had dropped his gun.
He snatched it up and aimed it at the struggling figures he could see.
As he watched, Jason backed off for an instant then launched again, the force of his leap sending Lennox staggering backward till he tripped on one of the loose bricks and fell.
“Jason, don’t,” he blurted, pointing the gun at where Lennox was struggling under Jason on the ground. “Stop, or they’ll say you attacked him.”
Jason looked up at Riley, and the asshole underneath him smashed him in the head with a piece of brick.
Jason went down instantly, crumpling without a sound. Riley’s stomach turned over. It was like Jason’s body just stopped. Like he wasn’t there anymore.
Lennox was scrambling backward, holding his bloodied arm awkwardly to his chest, when Riley slammed to his knees and shoved the gun under his jaw so hard it made Lennox’s teeth clack together. “Don’t fucking move,” he snarled.
Lennox froze, his breath hitching.
“You heard the man.” A voice came from behind Riley.
Riley turned his head far enough to see the woman from the motel standing there. She was wearing a robe and slippers and was pointing a shotgun at both of them.
“Sheriff’s on his way,” she said. “Now, why don’t you, Mr. Clark, get off that piece of shit so I can shoot him if he so much as twitches?”
He got up slowly and carefully. Seeing that her hands on the gun were rock steady, he turned his attention to Jason, lying limp and silent.
Oh, God. Riley dropped to his knees next to him, hands sweeping over the softest fur he’d ever felt, searching for injuries.
He found a warm, wet patch on his back leg, but Jason didn’t even flinch beneath his hands.
He was scared to touch Jason’s head, not knowing what he would find, but when he did, there was no blood he could feel. Nothing to explain Jason’s stillness. He was on his knees, whispering Jason’s name, his voice breaking, stroking his coat, willing him to feel his love, willing him to stay.
A truck roared into the lot, but Riley barely heard it. Wake up. Please, just wake up.
Urban was out of his truck in an instant, straddling Lennox and cuffing him. The guy cried out as his injured arm was forced behind his back.
“That fucking wolf broke my arm,” Lennox hissed through clenched teeth. “It was self-defense!”
Urban ignored him to look over at Riley and Jason. “How is he?”
“I don’t know!” Riley’s voice rose wildly. “He was shot, but it didn’t seem too bad, but then he got hit in the head, and now he won’t wake up.”
“I’ve got this one for you, Sheriff,” the woman said, as Urban rose to his feet.
“Just don’t shoot him and claim it was because you sneezed, Dolores,” Urban said, moving to where Jason lay and crouching next to him.
“Well, damn. You spoil all my fun.”
Urban was running his hands over Jason, the way Riley had done. His face was serious as he looked up at Riley. “Bring him over to my truck,” he said, just as a patrol car pulled up, and the dark-haired deputy climbed out. “Shannon, book him. Charges can wait till the morning.”
Lennox raised his head. “It was a fucking wolf,” he protested. “It was self-defense.”
“Shut your goddamn mouth.” Dolores smacked him in the back of his head with the butt of her gun.
“Shannon,” Urban said, sounding weary.
“I got this, Matt,” the deputy said.
Riley got his arms under Jason and lifted him, feeling the strain in his thighs and his shoulders as he took the weight of Jason’s limp body. Urban opened the truck and Riley eased Jason onto the bench seat. He hopped up after him, and Urban was in too much of a hurry to throw him out again.
Peeling out of the parking lot, Urban used his siren and lights as he sped out of town. In another life, Riley would have loved this. But not now, not for this reason.
Urban was on his phone. “Bryce, I need Don at the ranch for a head injury. Jason. He might need some stitching, too, though it doesn’t look too bad. Let the others know I’ve got the journalist with me.”
He ended the call, and Riley was aware they were moving faster than any law-abiding vehicle could get away with. It still wasn’t fast enough. Jason needed help now.
“I’ve heard Dolores’s version of what she saw from her window,” Urban threw over his shoulder. “You want to tell me what happened?”
Riley’s account was broken and his voice uneven, because Jason still wasn’t moving.
“Dolores seems to think you put yourself between Jason and Carmichael,” Urban said when he’d finished.
“I thought he’d listen,” Riley said desperately. “I thought he’d gotten it wrong and that when he understood, he’d stop, till I recognized him.”
“You know him?”
“Just from the bar. He was an asshole then, and a cowardly bastard now.”
“Sounds like you and Dolores should start some sort of club,” Urban said as he screwed the truck around a bend at a speed that had the tires screaming and Riley clutching at Jason to stop him from sliding off the seat.
“I wouldn’t have stopped her shooting him,” Riley said honestly.
“You would if you knew they’d been married thirty-four years,” Urban said. “That wouldn’t do her any favors in court.”
Riley snorted, and he couldn’t tell if it was tears or sudden laughter that clogged his throat as he ran his hands over Jason’s fur, the way he’d been doing constantly since he’d got into the truck.
“Will he be all right?” he asked, and didn’t know why he’d asked. It wasn’t like Urban was a healthcare professional. He just wanted someone to tell him everything would be okay.
“Enhanced healing means he’s got a better chance than just about anyone,” Urban said. “Let Don look at him, and we’ll know more.”
Riley stopped listening halfway through Urban’s reply, because Jason had moved. “Jason?”
“What is it?” Urban demanded.
“He’s waking up,” Riley said, hope crashing through him. He folded himself up to crouch in the footwell so he could see Jason properly, and he stroked his fur. “Jason?” he said again. “Jason, wake up.”
There was just enough light from the moon to see the reflection of Jason’s eyes, staring at Riley. “Oh, God, you’re okay,” Riley said, and he didn’t know if he was reassuring Jason or himself.
“Stay as you are, Jason,” Urban said, wrestling the truck around another corner far too fast. “I want Don to look at you.”
“He needs hospital and an MRI,” Riley said, stroking Jason’s neck, avoiding his head because he didn’t know where it might hurt.
“What he needs is his pack, and to sleep and heal,” Urban snapped. “You know shit about shifters.”
Jason’s tongue swiped hotly against Riley’s wrist, and he forgot everything then. Everything except Jason.