Running with the Pack: Cannon Pack, Book 3 (7 page)

“Oh, my goodness. Lauren, what are you doing?”

“Wow, if that’s how she fixes teeth, then let me hop in the chair.”

Lauren stiffened, then scrambled off Daniel, clutching the lapels of her white coat together. She let out a small cry, her attention riveted to the hallway. He hurriedly zipped up, covering his protesting cock, and twisted around to find Tucker and Bobbie. Bobbie’s gaping mouth hung open and Tucker’s grin was wider than Daniel thought a mouth could stretch.

“Oh, my God, I-I—” Lauren tucked her head and put her back to the onlookers. “I can’t believe you did that to me.”

“
To
you? Like you couldn’t have stopped me? Sweetheart, trust me, you were a willing participant. A very willing participant.” Daniel raised a finger to Tucker, silencing him from making a snarky remark.

Lauren, her skin a mottled pink color, finally met his gaze. “You are a pig. No, a dog.”

He couldn’t help it. Lowering his eyebrows, he gave as good as he got. “No way, lady. I am no dog. I’m a wolf.”

A mortified Lauren remained silent. Had she heard him? Bobbie, however, managed a quick recovery and, scooting past Daniel, took the distraught Lauren’s hand. “Don’t worry. The only people who know, who saw you, were me and Tucker.” Leading the stunned dentist out of the room, Bobbie made a “phone me” gesture to Tucker, then blew him a kiss. Tucker pretended to catch the kiss.

His friend had apparently enjoyed their time together, much to Daniel’s dismay. With his clothes straightened and his cock nearly back to normal pre-aroused size, Daniel trudged past him toward the reception area. “Not a word, man. Not a damn word.” But Tucker’s chuckle and question chased after him.

“Hey, wait a sec, Daniel. Did you call her a hunter?”

“This is not what I need after the day I’ve had.” Lauren cradled her rifle in the crook of her arm and trudged alongside the other hunters. “I’d rather have curled up on my sofa with a good book.”

John wrapped his arm around her. “Are you kidding me? A hunt always turns the day around for me. Besides, you’re your own boss. You can do what you want. What could have made your day so bad?”

Like she did nothing but sit at her computer and watch funny videos on the Internet. Lauren started to tell him what had happened with Daniel Cannon, then thought better of it. He didn’t have to know about her loss of self-control, or how she’d tried—and failed—to keep her thoughts off the ultra-sexy shifter for the rest of the day. She’d even called one of her male clients “Daniel” twice before Marla finally whispered, pointing out her error. “Oh, nothing special. The same old thing.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. How can your day have gone that badly when it’s always the same each day?”

“Never mind.” Lauren wasn’t about to explain. What did it matter now anyway? She was fortunate that Bobbie and Daniel’s friend were the only ones who’d witnessed her crazy sexual play with Mr. C. “John, have you ever met anyone named Cannon?”

John abruptly turned on her, his face scary in its intensity. “Where did you hear that name?” He took her arm, scaring her even more. “Tell me.”

Lauren broke his hold and rubbed the fingerprints he’d left. “What the hell, John? What’s with you?”

“Tell me where you heard that name.”

“I have a new patient named Cannon and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d heard the name before. Not that it’s an unusual name or anything. Why are you acting so strange?” Had she said too much? No way would she tell him that her new patient was a shifter. Hell, she wished she’d kept quiet now.

“Is your patient a werewolf?”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “No. Of course not. Why?”

John’s relief was evident in the tension flowing out of his body. “Good. There’s a large shifter pack with alphas named Cannon. You’ve probably heard me mention them before.”

Crap. Now she remembered where she’d heard the name. “Wow. Alphas, huh? More than one?”

“Yeah. Word has it that three brothers run the pack.” John shrugged off his brusque attitude and returned to his normal demeanor, reassured that her patient wasn’t a shifter. “So, you got a new victim, huh? Business must be good.” John chuckled. “I don’t know how you could do that.”

She tensed. Had someone other than Bobbie and Tucker seen them and told John? “What do you mean? I haven’t done anything—” She snapped her mouth closed, keeping “wrong” locked inside. Playing tongue-tag with another man was wrong. But playing Show and Feel with a werewolf was the ultimate betrayal to a hunter. Although she planned on dumping John, she had to keep playing the part of the faithful girlfriend for as long as she could. How else could she repay her debt to the werewolf she’d killed? “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about poking into people’s mouths and messing with their teeth. Sheesh. I don’t know how you do it. It’s disgusting.”

Relief washed over her, making her miss her footing. She fell into step behind him along with the other hunters and tried not to take what he’d said as a dig.

John held up his fist, signaling a full stop. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the dark alley. Throwing them a wicked grin, he put a finger to his lips and motioned for them to follow him.

Lauren dropped to the back of the group and switched her gun’s safety to the off position. If she had to, she could cause a diversion from the rear easier than in the front of the group. Halfway through the alley, John went down on one knee, waited for them to do the same, then pointed to a dark corner where one building met another. She squinted into the blackness and hoped she wouldn’t see what she feared most.

A small werewolf bent over the prone body of a homeless man. The man, wearing rags and shoes with holes in the bottoms, was either asleep or unconscious. His hand, however, firmly clutched an empty whiskey bottle.

The poor man had no idea that a werewolf stood over him. Could she wake the man up without scaring the werewolf into biting him? If so, would John and the other hunters hold their fire to keep from hitting the man?
Inching forward, she touched John’s shoulder to warn him against shooting while an innocent human was in the line of fire, but she was too late. A shot blasted the silence apart, jolting her and sending her stumbling to the side.

The werewolf’s screech of pain echoed around the alley. Wounded, the shifter landed on its feet but couldn’t stand. Blood ran down its hind leg. The werewolf tried to stumble away, but lost its footing and slumped to the ground.

“Gah! What the fuck is this? Help! Someone get this thing away from me!” The man dropped his bottle to scuttle away from the growling creature. The other men rushed to John, cheering and slapping him on the back. Two hunters helped the man to his feet and retrieved his bottle, then led him down the alley toward the street. Pointing his rifle at the snarling werewolf, John stood back, his chest out and pride oozing from him. “Say nighty-night, shifter.”

Lauren slowly regained her feet, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. Why couldn’t she have acted faster? Disappointment mingled with guilt, tearing a hole in her stomach. But now was not the time to wallow in her feelings. She gritted her teeth and took a few steps toward the sickening scene and the great white hunter holding court over his doting subjects.

“Wait! Don’t shoot!”

John and the others pivoted to her without placing their backs to the werewolf. “What, Lauren?” His eyes flashed above his gleeful grin.

She clenched her fists, resisting the urge to slap the stupid smile off his face. “You promised me I could shoot first.” Why hadn’t she remembered to say that earlier? Had their discussion about Cannon thrown her off? But maybe she wasn’t too late.

“I did? I don’t remember that.” John’s brow knitted and she prayed he’d taken his dumb pill today. He wasn’t the brightest man on the block and she could usually convince him to do what she wanted without him knowing she’d bamboozled him.

“Yeah, you did. Granted, you were drunk.” She got the expected snickers from the group. “But a promise is a promise. And now you go and blow it.”

“Seriously, babe, I don’t think—”

“You don’t think and I don’t care, John. Just answer the question. Are you going to give me what I want or not?” She pouted in the way John couldn’t resist.

Hoots and laughter surrounded her. “Yeah, John-boy. Give her what she wants or one of us might have to give it to her.” John punched the loudmouthed hunter in the arm.

She strode to the group and positioned her body between John and the werewolf. “So the way I see it, you owe me the kill.” She turned to face the werewolf and widened her eyes, hoping to alert him to her plan. “Let me be the one to put him down.”

She watched the battle in John’s eyes and knew how much he wanted to kill the shifter. But, with the heckling of the others, he had little choice but to give in.

“Fine. Just make it quick.”

She blew him a kiss along with a sexy smile and waved everyone back. “You guys might want to step away. Uh, you know. I’m not that good a shot.”

“Ain’t that the truth?”

“Back up, dudes. You never know where her bullet will go.”

At least her bumbling hunter act was still holding up. She almost shook her head in disbelief. Almost a year and they still hadn’t caught on? Wow.

She stepped closer to the bleeding wolf. If he was as intelligent as she thought werewolves were, he’d catch on. At last his gaze met hers and she gave him a huge no-way-can-you-miss-this-signal wink. He blinked, then tilted his head. She wasn’t sure he understood what she was about to do, but he knew she was up to something. She aimed a couple of inches above him, allowing for the discharge from the rifle to miss him.

Get ready, wolf.
Taking a breath, she squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out and, after only a moment’s hesitation, the werewolf yelped, jerked, then fell silent. Taking the dirty blanket the homeless man had used, she flung it over the body of the werewolf in feigned disgust. “Good riddance.”

The hunters shouted and John lifted her to twirl her around. “You did it. You finally killed one.”

“Finally? But I killed the female. Remember?”

“Oh, sure. Yeah. I forgot. Never mind.” John released her and turned to his men. “Grab the carcass for Lauren, men.”

“No!” Her shout stunned them into inaction, giving her a moment to think. “Uh, I mean, it’s my kill, right? Then I decide what to do with the hide. And I’ve decided that I want to leave it right where it is.”

“But why waste a hide you could hang on your wall?”

Lauren took John by the arm and led him away from the werewolf. “You know I don’t like trophies on my walls. Besides, it’s a scrawny thing.” She adopted an evil expression. “And I want it to stay here. I want to imagine the rats having a feast. I think that’s the best way to dispose of a vile creature like that. It’s my kill, my decision, right?”

“Whatever you say, Lauren. I’m just so damn proud of you. Men, group together.”

Lauren swallowed the bile in her throat and returned his hug but didn’t follow the others as they circled around John. Instead, she paced over to the werewolf, then bent down and lifted a corner of the blanket, pretending to examine the head. “Stay still until we leave. If I can, I’ll come back to help you,” she whispered. She would’ve sworn the shifter’s lips pulled back into a smile.

She turned to face the group and a movement above her brought her to a standstill. The beautiful black werewolf who’d escaped with the injured female werewolf crouched on the roof above her, his lips curled back to expose deadly fangs. She took a moment to appreciate his magnificent body, then abruptly dropped her eyes. If she drew attention to him, John would start the hunt again, thrilled by the chance to bag two in one night. The magnetic pull emanating from the mystical animal, however, drew her attention back, holding her spellbound. His eyes, brilliant amber, glowed against his black face and the dark night around him.

Lauren couldn’t help but study him. His body was all muscles and packed action. This creature, this regal being, was more a true hunter than John could ever be.
The werewolf tilted his head, reminding her of someone else. Suddenly, realization struck her, dazing her.
It’s Daniel.
She smiled, a little embarrassed not to have made the connection before. She should have known. In either form, he had the same intensity, the same sexual pull, the same overpowering presence. She frowned. The same accusatory expression? But why was his fury focused on her and not the others?
Shit, he doesn’t understand. He thinks I’m with them.

Panic rolled through Lauren. She had to do something before John and the others noticed him. In the end, however, it was Daniel who drew their attention.

The werewolf on the roof turned toward the hunters and widened his snarl. A spine-tingling growl floated down to the hunters, and he crouched as though ready to attack.

Praying her idea would work, Lauren lifted her rifle, aimed and pulled the trigger.

Chapter Four

Daniel crouched, his body tightening but he ignored his first instinct to jump. The shot had come not from the hunters he faced, but from Lauren. Pain ripped through him, but it wasn’t the pain from a gunshot wound. She’d shot at him and missed. This ache, however, was a different kind than that of any injury. This was a hurt of betrayal and disappointment. Granted, they weren’t the best of friends to say the least, but he’d assumed they’d called an undeclared truce after their lip-lock. Or was that wishful thinking on his part? He scowled at her and sent a silent question.
“Why?”

She opened her mouth as though to answer, then slammed it shut again. He gawked at her, the indecipherable glint in her eye drawing him in until, without warning, she raised her gun and pointed it at him—again. Growling, he didn’t give her time to shoot and whirled away, rushing over the top of the building as several shots rang out.

He ran hard, outdistancing the hunters but unable to leave his own confused thoughts behind. The damned woman had tried to kill him. But why the hell would she help him with his toothache and get him hot and bothered, only to turn around and try to kill him? She’d known what he was and hadn’t seemed to mind then. One minute she was sitting on top of him, her body pressed against his, and the next, she was trying to plug him full of holes. Were all human females so unpredictable?