Running with the Pack: Cannon Pack, Book 3 (2 page)

Suddenly, the scent of fear assaulted him, slamming him to a stop. He dragged air into his lungs, testing the smell. What the hell? Did he really smell that? Or was that a remnant of his memory? He lifted his head, closed his eyes, and checked again. The scent, unlike any other, wafted into his widened nostrils. No, he wasn’t mistaken. Someone—a female—was in danger. He hesitated only a second to confirm the direction he needed to go, then took off at a hard run.

“Come on, people. Pick up the pace.” John Rawlings, leader of the hunter group, quickened his speed. The other hunters grumbled, then followed his order.

Lauren Kade pounded after them, her boots slapping a flat rhythm on the pavement. “What’s the use, John? We’re out of silver bullets anyway.”

“It’ll die eventually, if we pump enough regular lead into it. I’m sure I hit it at least once.” He cast her an irritated look. “And yeah. Thanks for screwing up my last order.”

“I said I’m sorry several times.”
Not
.

John raced around the corner of the alley, his hand sliding along the brick wall. Using the momentum of the turn, she nudged another hunter out of the way and closed in on John. She caught a flash of gray from the werewolf a few yards ahead of them moments before it disappeared into an adjacent alley. Silently, she urged the shifter to run faster.

Lauren reached the front of the group, glanced over at John and was hit with inspiration. Granted, it wasn’t much of an idea, but none of her other schemes would work in this situation. She locked the safety on her rifle, then let out a cry.

Making sure to dart to the side and away from her fellow hunters, Lauren grabbed her leg and went down. She pushed her gun away from her and screamed louder.

“Lauren!”

“Man, er, woman down!”

“John, hold up. Something’s wrong with your girlfriend.”

Lauren grabbed her leg and rolled toward the others. She glanced past the hunters coming to her aid to see John jogging in place, eager to continue the hunt. He turned his head in the direction the shifter had gone, then back to her, and repeated the movement.

Figures that John would want to keep going.
Biting her tongue, she kept her irritation from boiling over. John cared more about killing the werewolf than about her. But that was okay since she cared more about the shifter getting away than about her so-called boyfriend. Their relationship had started downhill last year, but she hadn’t let him know how she felt. Keeping their relationship, after all, was part of her cover.

The hunters gathered around her, asking her to tell them what was wrong, doing their best to render aid. At last, John strolled over and knelt beside her.

“What happened?”

Super. No
“Can I help you, babe?”
Not that Lauren should’ve expected any real concern. But she’d expected at least a sincere attempt at faking it. She rubbed her leg and let out as pitiful a moan as she could muster. Right now she had to think of the escaping shifter. The longer she stalled the hunters, the better the shifter’s chances.

“I don’t know. I was running along and, without warning, this pain shot through my leg. The next thing I knew, I was face first on the pavement.”

John nodded but was already turning to gaze in the direction the shifter had gone. “Uh-huh. Yeah, that sucks.” He stood, leaving her reaching for him. “Charlie, take care of her, okay? Guys, let’s get going before the beast gets too far ahead of us.”

The man had a cold streak in him. She’d thought about breaking up with him ever since she’d come to see shifters for what they really were, but she’d cared for him. Maybe one day he’d understand what she now did: shifters were humans, too. However, the lack of consideration for her injury—fake or not—cinched the deal. Shifters or no shifters, she was so over him.

Nonetheless, she’d have to take her time until she could ease her way out of the relationship while still remaining part of the group.

“No, John. I need you.” Like hell she did. He started to move away, but she grabbed his pant leg and held on. “Stay with me.”

Damn, she hated to beg, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do. Short of throwing her naked body at him. Hell, even that might not stop him. She could almost see it now.

Lauren tore material, popped buttons, ridding her body of every stitch of clothing. The hunters leered at her, but John stood quietly gazing at her naked body, not showing any indication of arousal.

“John, take me. I’m yours.” She pushed her breasts together and flicked her tongue over a nipple. “What are you waiting for, my big, strong hunter-man?”

John shook his head. “Not now, babe. I have a shifter to kill.” Ignoring her protests, he waved for the men to follow him and took off at a sprint, leaving Lauren naked and alone.

John shook her off. “Charlie will stay to keep you company. We’ll come back for you once we’ve caught the animal. Good thing I shot it or we wouldn’t have a chance in hell of catching it now. We still may not.”

Only her agonized—and totally dramatic—scream kept him from striding away. “Oh, my God, I think I’m dying.” She’d better watch it and not take the dramatics too far. After all, Meryl Streep she wasn’t. But then again, Meryl never had to act with the likes of John. Whimpering, she put on her saddest look, aimed it directly at him and hoped he didn’t have a defense against her pitiful face. If the man didn’t take the bait, she’d have to seriously consider trying the buck-naked idea.

The urgency in his expression faded, replaced by resolute resignation. “Aw, crap.” Kneeling by her side, he ran his hand along her leg. “Can you walk?”

“I-I don’t know.” Lauren grimaced, then changed her expression to a stoic one. With a sigh, she gripped her someday-to-be ex’s arm and tried to stand.

“Good girl. You made it. See? All better, right?”

Little did he know. She took a step—or rather a contrived hobble—and whined. “No, I’m not all better. It really hurts, John.” Was it her acting that sucked? Or just him?

“Maybe she needs to go to the hospital?” Luke, the quiet one of the bunch, gave her a sympathetic look.

“Oh, gosh. I don’t think so. I mean, it’s not that bad.” She leaned against John and beseeched him with her best doleful eyes. The things she’d do to save a shifter! “I just need a little TLC from my big, handsome man. Please, John, take me back to my place. I’m sure with some ice or heat or whatever you’re supposed to do with sprains, I’ll be fine soon enough. Especially if you’re taking care of me.” She had to trust that the shifter had plenty of time to get away. Unless its wound had slowed it down—or worse.

“Oh, all right. If that’s what you want. But stop the bitchin’, okay?” Again, John’s attention drifted toward the dark alley where the werewolf had gone.

What did she have to do to get this guy’s full attention? Perform magic? Give him a BJ? She placed a hand on his cheek and pulled his focus back to her.

“Ooh, John, it’s really hurting. Take me home. Now. Puh-lease?” Batting her eyes, she flirted, promising him more than she ever planned on giving him. God help her if he tried to take her up on her promise. For extra benefit, she lowered a pitiable look on Luke.

“Go ahead, John. The creature’s gone anyway.”

“Luke’s right. We’ll have to continue the hunt some other night.” Charlie grumbled under his breath.

She kept silent, watching John’s decision play out on his features.

At last, he let out a frustrated groan. “Fine. Let’s call it a night, men.”

Score one for the shifter and zero for the hunters
.
Lauren nodded, acting disappointed and guilty at the same time, and let John wrap his arm around her waist to steady her on the way back to their vehicles. With their goodbyes said, she scooted into John’s Jeep.

“Hey, is your leg doing better?”

“Huh?” She glanced down. Not thinking, she’d tucked it under her other leg in the half-cross-legged position she always used. “Yeah, it is. Maybe I just wrenched it a little.” She made a show of stretching out the leg and flexing her foot. “It still hurts but not nearly as much as when I stand on it. I’m sure I’ll be fine once I get home and off my feet for a bit.” John’s brow furrowed in thought and she had to smother a smirk. Maybe she was a better actress than she thought. Either that, or he was dumber than she realized.

“Yeah.” He slid into the driver’s seat. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Lauren inwardly winced at the softness in John’s eyes. Here was the man she’d once liked. The man she’d, at one time, wanted more than anyone else. But she couldn’t stay his girlfriend much longer. Too much had changed between them. Too much had changed in her.

Hell, now she felt like a real jerk. John still cared for her. Could he help it if he hadn’t figured out that shifters weren’t the evil beasts everyone thought they were? She hadn’t known either. At least not until she’d gotten close to the werewolf she’d killed. Maybe if he’d seen the terror in the werewolf’s eyes, actually spoken with her, he’d understand like she did. Maybe then he’d help her keep them safe. Or at least stop hunting them. She reconsidered telling John about her change of heart but, like the thousands of times before, decided she couldn’t take the risk. If he didn’t understand, he’d kick her out of the group, destroying her chances to help the werewolves.

Each hunt was getting harder to sabotage and she was running out of ideas. So far, she’d managed to thwart their hunts by planning ahead, but now she was resorting to stunts like pretending to hurt her leg. She smiled, remembering the stunned expressions on the hunters’ faces when she’d anonymously alerted the cops to their dangerous hunts. If one of the cops hadn’t been a friend of John’s, the hunters might have ended up in jail. That one trick had kept the group off the streets for three months until the heat finally died down. Maybe she should try calling the police again.

“Lauren, are you okay? You drifted away for a minute.”

She placed her palm on his cheek again. But this time she meant the endearing gesture. “Yeah, I’m good. I just need some rest.” But the rest would have to wait until she found the wounded shifter.

Chapter Two

John hung around, waiting to make good on Lauren’s earlier flirty promise. But she wouldn’t sleep with him, hadn’t slept with him for two months. How could she when she planned on dumping him? She finally pushed him out the door an hour later, then peeked from behind the curtain and watched him hop into his Jeep.

Good. Now she could get a move on. Although the likelihood of finding the wounded shifter was iffy at best, she had to try. Failing to keep the hunters away from the werewolf before John had shot it frustrated her, and she owed it to the shifter to help as much as she could.

Lauren shrugged on her jacket, picked up the satchel she kept filled with medical supplies and extra clothing, then slipped into her battered-yet-trusty Beetle. Night was in full swing and although the moonless sky would make it more difficult for her to find the shifter, it would also give her cover, hiding her from any other hunters searching for prey.

Making sure no one was around, Lauren slipped the gun over her shoulder, darted into the dark alley, and prayed she could get the werewolf to listen to her. She found the location where she’d had her “accident” and continued into the adjacent pathway. Breathing in the cool night air, she paused, gathered her bearings and took her best guess as to where the shifter had fled. Her flashlight’s beam streamed across the ground, and she moved slowly, checking for blood spots and finding enough to help her track the animal. Thankfully, however, the red splotches weren’t as big as she’d feared.

“Where are you, shifter? Don’t worry. I don’t mean you any harm.” Like a shifter would believe her after seeing her with a group of hunters. Still, she hoped she’d get lucky and the werewolf wouldn’t recognize her.
Lauren pushed on, scanning the area in case the wounded animal hid behind stacks of boxes, crouched and ready to attack. She hunched her collar around her neck, shielding herself from the cool night air. Putting one foot in front of the other, she gripped her rifle and prayed she wasn’t too late.

A low growl froze Lauren to the spot, and she cautiously turned to face the threatening sound.

“Hello? It’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” Her nerves jangled, bringing a giggle to the surface.
Oh, shit. Not now. At least act as though you’re not scared.
The answering growl, louder than the first, did nothing to calm her nerves. “I know you saw me with the hunters, but I’m not one of them. In fact, I helped you get away and I’m here to help you again.” She waited, the silence worrying her more than the fierce growls. She giggled, her nerves taking over. “If I had a hunting license I’d tear it up. Would that convince you?” Another weak titter escaped her. If only she could stop giggling whenever she was frightened. “Sorry. Bad joke.” Going all in, she took a deep breath and decided to take a big leap of faith. “I’m going to come over there, okay? Again, I won’t hurt you. Will you promise not to hurt me?”

“I don’t promise scumbag hunters anything. Go away while you still have your skin.”

Although that wasn’t the answer she wanted, at least it was an answer instead of an attack. She bit her lower lip to keep another giggle from popping out, then pushed away the fear edging along her backbone and took a step forward.

“Will it help if I put my gun on the ground?” She dropped her satchel and gently placed her rifle beside it on the dirty payment, then raised her arms, palms facing toward the unseen shifter. “See? No gun. Now, will you let me get closer?” What else could she do to get the werewolf to believe she meant her no harm? “I’m Lauren and I’m a friend. How about telling me your name?”

“Why the hell would you want to know my name? To put it on a nameplate under my hide?” After a long period of quiet, the shifter let out a tortured moan. “Do yourself a favor and stay away.”

At least the shifter hadn’t tried to attack her. If, that is, she was able to.

“I’m only here to help. I know you don’t trust me, but I’m telling you the truth.” Maybe if she’d worn a mood ring… Another giggle escaped her. Damn.