Savage Revenge (11 page)

He stared at her as if she’d grown another head. “Sage, if I had someone to vouch for my innocence I sure as fuck wouldn’t be on the run and taken you hostage.”

Hearing it phrased like that made her realize the question had been a little ridiculous.

“But surely one of your friends… I just need someone who knows you to tell me you wouldn’t do something like that.”

“The moment you contact someone and ask about me it’s all over. They’ll figure out who you are—where I am. They’ll bring me in and I’ll be lucky if I even get a trial.” He thrust a hand through his hair. “They want justice, and they want it fast. What happened is beyond our normal. It’s huge and ugly. Surely you realize that.”

“I do,” she agreed. He was probably right. “But have you at least tried to tell anyone that you’re innocent? Surely if one of your agents knew…”

She trailed off, not even sure where she was going with her line of reasoning.

“I’ve thought the same thing,” he said after a moment. “I know it’s hard to trust me—to believe any of what I tell you—but I’m a good alpha. A good commander. My agents respect me and I know they’re questioning my guilt right now.”

“So what if we can get a message to one of them? Like, in a way where they can’t trace you?” she said slowly.

He stayed quiet and clearly seemed to be thinking about that.

“Because if we’re going to prove your innocence, it’s going to be kind of hard to return to the scene of the crime. They’d arrest you on the spot.”

“Or shoot me.”

“Not really good options.”

“No. They’re not.”

She shook her head. There had to be a way. Had to be some way she could contact someone.

“Maybe if we—”

“Stop, Sage.” He closed his eyes and his mouth twisted bitterly. “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this. I was desperate when I took you hostage last night. Exhausted, angry and desperate.”

She stayed silent, because she knew he wasn’t finished.

“It’s not who I am. I protect the shifter population, not terrorize them. And the more I sit here and think about how you nearly lost your life trying to escape me, the more I realize how damn out of line I am.”

He was. She wasn’t going to argue with that. She also wasn’t quite sure where he was going with this.

“I’m not going to force you to help me.”

“You’re not forcing me,” she reminded him. “I recently made the choice, remember?”

“I don’t know if it was much of a choice. I’m sure you were still somewhat pressured.” He scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Look, I’m an adult who is perfectly capable of making her own choices—”

“Here’s what I’m going to do,” he cut her off, as if he’d quit listening. “I’m going to go out and run for an hour—I think better that way. When I come back you don’t have to be here. You can leave, no fear or guilt. If you aren’t here when I get back, then I give you my word I will leave too.”

“Nate.”

“I want you to really think about this, Sage.” He shook his head. “Don’t make this decision lightly. But if you do leave, I hope you’ll give me a head start. A few days to lose myself again.”

She gave a small nod and averted her gaze. Again, he was basically telling her to just leave him.

He stood and grabbed his plate, walking it to the sink. Once more he had that silly sheet tied around his waist, and all the hard, muscled parts drew her gaze like a magnet.

Nathan Larson was physical perfection. He had the type of body she’d base her heroes on, and he was strutting around her kitchen, making her heart do weird fluttery things.

Was that clouding her judgment?

“It’s almost eleven.” He ran water over his plate and then turned to face her. “I’ll give you an hour.”

“Okay.” She stood and dropped off her plate in the sink too, not moving away from him.

He seemed ready to step away, but then hesitated. Reaching out he cupped the side of her face and his touch was remarkably gentle.

“If you’re smart then you’ll go, Sage,” he said softly.

If she were smart. Once upon a time she’d considered herself smart. Sensible even. But now?

Not so much if she went by the ludicrous temptation to rip that sheet off his waist.

Her heart was thudding in her chest, and she couldn’t remember ever having been more aware of a man physically.

The grooves and ridges of his naked chest. The faint smell of sweat on him from earlier—and it was sexy, not gross.

Her nostrils flared as something primal rose inside her.

She wanted to grasp those naked shoulders again. Dig her nails into muscles, stand on her tiptoes and kiss him.

His closeness consumed her and she grew heady with the urge to have their bodies pressed together again.

Tilting her head, she pressed her cheek into his palm and closed her eyes.

She should run. She should absolutely run from him. If not from the danger of him being a potential murderer, then the danger of what he did to her physically.

“Sage,” he rasped.

When her lashes fluttered up, she swore he was about to kiss her again.

“Dammit. Just be gone when I get back.” He dropped his hand from her, and walked backward out of the kitchen, his gaze never leaving hers.

And then he turned at the front door and stepped outside.

Sage heard the faint sounds of him shifting and then the rustle of leaves and dirt as he took off into the trees.

And then, silence.

Chapter Ten

Be gone when I get back.

His words lingered in her head.

She could run to her brother—get the hell out of here and not have to worry about, well, anything. It was the smart thing to do. Any levelheaded person would’ve been out the door by now.

But instead of following Nate out the door, she turned slightly to go up the stairs and retrieve her cheap phone she took hiking.

It was buried in her underwear drawer and hopefully she had a charge on it still.

Finding it a moment later, she discovered a full battery.

Yes
.

She nearly flew back down the stairs in her haste to get on the computer.

A normal person might’ve called someone for help, but she had passed the logical stage.

Maybe he wouldn’t give her the names of friends or family who could vouch for him, but she wasn’t out of ideas.

Some quick keywords into the shifter system’s search engine and she brought up more than one article about him. One in particular was an interview Agent Larson had done about Sienna Donovan—formerly Peters—and her husband, Warrick, who served under Nathan.

Her heart quickened and she chewed on her lip. A few more searches brought up a home number for Warrick. The shifter community was small, and the fact that home numbers were out there wasn’t a huge surprise. She’d just never had to search for a stranger before.

Dialing the number, she held her breath as it began to ring. After two rings, a woman picked up.

“This is Sienna.”

Holy shit. She’d gotten the wife, who, according to the article, was a half-breed shifter who’d been dangerous during some questionable experiments.

She hadn’t even expected someone to answer—for the number to be right. But it had, and seeing as it was Saturday afternoon, it was actually pretty likely Sienna had the day off.

“Ms. Peters?” Sage winced as her voice cracked.

“Yes? Who is this?”

A lump gathered in her throat, and she wondered if she could pull this off. She’d promised to help Nate, and dammit she would.

“My name is Lisa Woods and I’m calling from the online shifter news source, The Fresno Beast. I was hoping I could speak to someone about Nathan Larson.”

“Agent Larson?” Sienna’s voice sharpened. “Have you seen him?”

“Uh, no, I haven’t. But the local packs have posted the bulletin being sent out. His story made me curious and I’m considering doing a feature on him.”

“I see.” Wariness infused her tone now.

“The world is quick to condemn him, but do you think he’s guilty of the crimes he’s being accused of?”

“I can’t help you, I’m sorry.”

“Please, Ms. Peters. It’s just your opinion.”

“And I’ll get my ass chewed out if I give it,” she muttered. There was silence for a moment, and then her voice lowered. “Look, off the record, Larson can be a scary asshole, but I’d bet my life that he didn’t do this.”

Sage’s pulse quickened and she held her breath. This is what she needed to hear. Had hoped to hear when risking this call.

“I know it looks bad. But he’s an amazing agent and alpha,” Sienna continued, “and I know he would give his life to protect the shifters. Hopefully the truth will come—Oh, hey there, Warrick… I thought you were in the shower.”

Sage struggled to hear the muffled exchange between the couple, but all she could pick up was the angry tone of a male.

“Who the hell is this?”

And apparently now he was on the phone, and judging by his harsh snarl, not happy about his wife speaking to anyone about Nathan Larson.

“It’s Lisa Woods. I’m with the online shifter paper The Fresno Beast. I was just asking your wife her opinion on—”

“I’ve gathered exactly what you were asking her, Miss Woods, and I don’t appreciate your call. If you use her name—if you reference it was a woman—I will hunt you down and make you regret it.”

“I know,” Sage rushed to assure him. “I won’t use her name, I won’t—”

“She shouldn’t have told you anything. She knows better.”

From his biting harsh tone, Sage assumed he was speaking to his wife now.

And the hissed, angry response she couldn’t quite understand meant that Sienna wasn’t taking it sitting down.

“Look, I’ll let you go. I just really wanted to get another viewpoint on Nate that we could use for our story. Thanks for your time and I apologize for upsetting you both.”

Sage quickly hung up, but her racing heart refused to return to normal.

Dammit. That had been stupid. Seriously stupid. Not only had she pushed Sienna Peters into an emotional revelation that could’ve gotten her into trouble, but also she’d pissed off Warrick Donovan. Someone, she sensed, you didn’t want to mess with.

Good thing she wasn’t actually a reporter and this little interview had been for her own benefit.

But as awkward as that phone call had been, it definitely eased her mind. She was doing the right thing in helping Nate.

Her gut insisted he was innocent, and now she’d heard from another shifter who was close to him that she believed in his innocence as well.

It was a risk. She was essentially harboring a criminal now, and she knew it.

But it was a risk she wanted to take. For some deep, nagging reason, she knew she
had
to take.

Please, God. Oh please, God. I don’t want to die
.

Denise Webber clutched her cross necklace in the palm of her hand—holding it so tight the corners pierced the skin and drew blood.

Hiding behind the widest tree she’d been able to find, she dared not move. Breathing was something she was trying to avoid as well.

Small, shallow breaths every now and then were all she allowed herself.

Never had she experienced such terror. Had she felt so blatantly hunted and stalked.

But that’s exactly what that thing—what was it, some kind of dog?—out there was doing.

The soft crunch of paws on earth had a whimper of panic nearly escaping her, and she slapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet.

Why had she thought a day hike was a good idea? She wasn’t a hiker. Hell, she barely went to the gym, but the weather had been nice, and she was trying to lose those five pounds she’d put on during the cruise with her girlfriends to Mexico.

The low, animalistic growl of excitement warned her she’d been found.

Acting on instinct alone, she bolted from the tree and ran for her life.

The sound of the animal’s pursuit resonated in her ears, even as the desolate realization that she would never outrun it sank in.

“I don’t want to die,” she screamed, but there was no one who would hear her plea.

Only a God who hadn’t sent anyone to save her or shown her any possible way out.

The sharp swipe of nails ripped into her back, searing pain through her and knocking her to the ground.

And then the weight of the animal was on her back. Its breath, hot and heavy, fell against her neck, before teeth sank into her neck and ripped at her flesh.

There was no time for terror, only the pain. The knowledge took hold that this was the end.

Please let it be quick
.

Her lifeblood drained into the dirt floor of the earth, fulfilling that morbid circle of life.

Tears rolled silently down her cheeks, and she dimly became aware of the shift of the creature on top of her. How she almost imagined it became human.

Was that a hand in her hair? Stroking? Comforting?

She grew more disorientated. More weak. It was so hard to think now.

When the darkness rolled in, it was a welcome escape from the horror of her last few minutes of life where she swore the wolf had become a human.

Taking a second run in such a short time had worn him out, but it had been necessary. He’d pushed himself until he couldn’t think straight—until he was almost in that meditative, hypnotic state.

Nathan slowed his approach to Sage’s house and tried not to acknowledge the heaviness in his chest. The crushing sense of despondency.

He was tired. Not sure where the fuck to go from here, and Sage would no doubt be gone when he went back inside.

He’d essentially driven her away, but she’d left him no choice. He was willing to bet she hadn’t left him alone on the mountain because she’d been experiencing guilt and fear.

And maybe for a while he could convince himself that using her—holding her against her will—was justified. But then his conscience had kicked in. The realization at just how far he’d fallen.

He probably shouldn’t have even come back to the house. He should’ve kept running. What if she’d reported him?

There could be P.I.A. agents inside the house at this very moment. Waiting to take him in. Or just take him down.