Brooke, Leah - Panthers' Prey [Black Panthers 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (37 page)

Brown looked up, his eyes full of hostility.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job.”

Bailey resisted James’s effort to pull her closer, not wanting to get blood on him, which the policeman would see. She didn’t lean back on the sofa either, hoping the sweatshirt she wore would absorb any blood that still ran from it.

Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as she’d thought a gunshot wound would hurt.

The adrenaline surge contributed quite a bit to her shaking, and she had trouble focusing on the steady stream of questions from both officers.

Thankfully, James and Marc took over, but her mind wandered when Marc answered that they had all been here all night and that, no, he hadn’t seen any sign of the panthers these men kept claiming to have seen.

She could see the pain in James’s eyes, but also saw his concern for her. His teasing in the shower hadn’t fooled her a bit, not when she could see just how much each movement hurt him.

Eyeing him now, she swallowed the lump in her throat, the emotion nearly overwhelming her. She couldn’t get the image of him falling to the ground out of her mind, or the horror she’d felt when she thought she might have lost him.

She couldn’t help but notice how often his gaze slid to hers or how he constantly touched her as though to make sure she was still there.

It occurred to her suddenly that she did much the same thing to him. She touched his thigh, his hand, his knee, and found it increasingly difficult not to let her worry show.

His hair had fallen over his forehead, giving him a rakish look and making her fingers itch to push the dark, silky strands back, but she realized that they covered the bandage Marc had placed there only minutes ago.

Officer Brown shared a look with his partner before settling back, his eyes narrowing on Marc’s.

“I just think it’s interesting that several other people from around here have seen this panther, but you haven’t. You live here, miles from town, and most of these woods are on your property. I think it might be a good idea if you stay out of the woods until I have them checked out.”

Marc shrugged, rubbing a gentle hand over Bailey’s back, his warm hand settling right under where she hurt the most.

“I think your little arsonists are imagining things, or making them up. You don’t really believe that Bailey rode off on the back of a panther, now do you?”

Officer Brown scrubbed a hand over his face.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know what to believe. I want you to stay out of the woods until I tell you it’s okay.”

In the blink of an eye, Marc’s eyes became cold and hard.

“It’s my property, and I’ll go where I please.”

So alarmed at the icy temper emanating from Marc that she actually shivered, Bailey reached out to touch his arm, shocked at how stiffly he held himself.

He whipped his head around, his arm tightening around her, his eyes cold and razor sharp. Almost immediately, they warmed again, some of the tension leaving his body.

“Honey, why don’t you go into the bedroom?”

Bailey shook her head, a little distracted by the incredible warmth generated under her hand.

“No. I want to go get the gasoline off before someone goes past and throws a cigarette or something.”

The other officer lifted his head from where he’d been taking notes, his eyes flat and cool.

“The firemen are already taking care of that. We called them in when we realized that they’d poured gas all over the outside of the building.”

“Still, I want to check out—”

“No.” Marc helped her to her feet as he stood, shooting a dismissing look at both policemen. “I think we’ve answered enough of your questions. I appreciate you letting us know what happened. Bailey’s upset and shaken. Excuse us.”

Both officers looked up, Officer Brown’s look becoming one of impatience while the other policeman merely nodded, his eyes sharp as he glanced at Brown.

Marc ignored both, turning his back on them and leading her from the room. As soon as they disappeared from view of the others, Marc bent and lifted her in his arms. Holding her against him, he studied her face, his eyes dark with worry.

“Christ, you’re so pale. I’m scared you’re going to pass out. Are you in a lot of pain?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but snapped it shut when he started talking again.

“Forget it. I can feel it. Your adrenaline is keeping it at bay for right now, but it’s going to hit soon.”

He sat her on the edge of the bed, took out his phone, and punched in a series of numbers. He put the phone to his ear before kneeling in front of her to remove her shoes.

“Joe? It’s Marc. I need you here. Now. My mate’s been shot, and you’re the only one I trust to remove the bullet. No. We can’t go to the hospital. If I thought the damned thing was fatal, she’d already be there! It’s lodged in her shoulder. Looks like it went in at an angle. It must have been when we were running away. No exit wound.”

After another pause, he sighed. “Yes. We’ve got some trouble. Yeah, well, James got hit, too. Grazed him in the fucking head. I’m almost positive he has a concussion. No, we can’t explain how the hell he got shot without exposing ourselves. I’m about ready to take my chances and get both of them to the hospital. Brown’s up to something, but I have no fucking clue what it could be. I haven’t done anything to make him
that
suspicious.”

He listened to whatever the man named Joe said and nodded, raking his hand through his hair. Coming to his feet, he paced to the window.

“I had to get them both out of there, and—yes. We shifted. Yes, there were witnesses. I know, Joe. I know.”

He turned and came back toward her, staring down at her, his eyes dark and bleak.

“If we hadn’t, both James and our mate would be dead.”

He looked grim, never taking his eyes from hers. “Thanks, Joe.”

He disconnected and tossed the cell phone onto the nightstand, looking up as James entered the bedroom.

“Are they gone?”

James smiled faintly and held on to the doorway, his eyes narrowed to mere slits.

“Yeah. Brown’s suspicious as hell but has no idea what to suspect. He
is
acting strange.”

Marc nodded grimly. “He’s up to something. He wasn’t this bad before, but since I’ve been back—hell, since we found Bailey in the woods—he’s been worse. Christ, what a mess. I’ll deal with it later. Joe’s on his way here to look at both of you. James, don’t fall asleep. Bailey, I’ve got to get you cleaned up.”

Bailey nodded and tried to lift her arm to take off her blood-soaked shirt, but her arm felt twice as heavy. Since it only hurt when she lifted it, she put it back down and reached for James, who looked as tired as she felt.

“Okay. Did you say James might have a concussion? Can’t we just make up a story about how he got hurt and—”

“No.” Marc pulled the hem of her shirt away from her, sank his teeth into it, and ripped it. Straightening, he continued to rip her shirt to shreds, his movements careful and slow and his eyes watchful on hers.

“Let’s just get you out of this, sweetheart. Help’s on the way.”

Bailey grimaced as he tossed her tattered shirt toward the bathroom. “Sorry about this. It seems like you’re always taking care of me.”

Leaning forward, he touched his lips to hers.

“I know you’ll find this hard to believe after everything I’ve said, but I’d like the chance to spend the rest of my life taking care of you and keeping you safe.”

Chapter Fifteen

Lying on her stomach, Bailey kept looking back and forth from James, who lay propped against the headboard next to her, and Marc, who never stopped pacing.

“You’re as nervous as a cat.”

Pleased with her joke, she met his glare with a smile.

“Maybe a glass of milk would calm you down.”

From beside her, James chuckled.

“It appears our mate likes to live dangerously.”

Unable to resist, Bailey grinned, trying to move to a more comfortable position.

“Danger from you? Nah, you’re just two pussycats.”

“Jesus, she sounds just like my mate.”

Startled at the unfamiliar voice, Bailey started to turn, wincing at the pain in her shoulder.

With a hand on her back, James kept her from rising, the obvious effort it cost him keeping her still more than anything.

“Stay still. It’s Joe Diablo, another member of our pack—family. He’s had quite a bit of medical training, and he’ll take good care of you. I promise. He’s the one who we called for advice the night we found you in the woods.”

Marc came forward and knelt at her side, running a hand over her bare back and hitching the covers just a little bit higher.

“He’ll take care of both of you.” His gaze lifted to a spot over her other shoulder. “Thanks for coming, Joe.”

James looked up toward the doorway and smiled.

“I see you brought a posse.”

Curious, and very aware of her nakedness beneath the covers, Bailey turned her head toward her injured side, alarmed at the amount of blood soaking the towel Joe lifted from her right shoulder.

She supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised to see that he, too, had black hair, which framed a face so incredibly gorgeous and hard it appeared chiseled from stone. His brown eyes, several shades darker than James’s, sharpened as he inspected her shoulder, his lips thinning.

The gentleness in his touch surprised her, his fingers light as they probed.

From her left side, she heard two low growls as both James and Marc caressed her back and hair.

Joe glanced over her back before smiling down at her.

“Easy. Your mate’s safe with me. As for the posse…you said you had trouble. Why don’t you go out to the other room with them and tell them what’s going on while I take care of your mate? Hi, honey. I’m Joe. I’m going to give you something to numb your shoulder. It’s going to hurt a bit, but then it’ll feel much better.”

Marc pulled the covers up higher.

“I’m not leaving.”

Bailey shivered at the cold liquid Joe poured over her shoulder, clenching her teeth when he started to dab around her wound. Now that she’d had a chance to calm down, it had really started to hurt, and now it stung.

“Hi, Joe. I’m Bailey. Can you take care of James? Please.”

She’d kept up a running conversation with James over the last two hours, needing to hear his voice and to know that he was all right.

Joe smiled, but he appeared to be concentrating on the contents of what she assumed was a bag he’d placed next to the bed.

“James is being tended to right now.”

“Son of a bitch! What the fuck is that?”

She turned her head again just in time to see James snarl at yet another black-haired man.

“Jeez, do all of you have black hair?”

Joe nodded and began to fill a syringe.

“Yes, and it tends to draw attention when we’re together, so we tell everyone we’re related. Hell, we may be. Who knows?”