Claiming Her (Keeping Her Series) (14 page)

Lucas walked up to Cleo
and Jax and, without any warning he picked up the wolf by the scruff of his
neck and tossed him towards an empty spot on the beach. 

“Lucas,” Isabella snapped,
thankful he, at least, didn’t take any guests down with him when he hit.

Cleo was watching the
wolf fly, and then turned, narrowing her eyes on her dad.  “Why did you do
that?”

“Don’t like him,” Lucas
muttered off hand, his eyes taking in his grown daughter in her island get up. 
He swallowed and then made an effort.  “You look beautiful, Cleo.”

Cleo lost a good deal
of tension at his words, and smiled at her father full out.  Even Isabella
could feel the warmth coming off that smile, it was that beautiful. 

“Thanks, Dad.”  Cleo
dropped the ginormous drink on the nearest table and moved in to hug her
father.

He pulled Cleo close
and Isabella stood back, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. 

“Too grown up to dance
with your father?” he asked quietly to the top of her head.

“To Calypso music?”
Cleo asked with a laugh, her face tucked close into her father’s neck.

Lucas looked up at the
gyrating crowd, then narrowed his eyes at the half-naked band, whose costumes
seemed to be nothing more than leather loincloths and beads; then he turned to
glare at Miley, his arms holding his daughter getting visibly tighter.

Isabella cleared her
throat and moved back a step.  “I’ll get them to play something slow.  You two
dance.  Have a good time.”  She smiled at Cleo, her steps back slowing just a
bit.  “Happy birthday, Cleo.”

Cleo smiled at her and
spoke right before Isabella turned to go.  “Thanks, Miley.”

“Don’t go too far,”
Lucas called loudly to be heard over the music.

She rolled her eyes,
but she was already turned away and he couldn’t see it.  But she did holler
back in exasperation.  “It’s a small island, Lucas.  Nowhere is too far.”

Isabella moved to the
stage and gave her request to the band.  Then she watched besides the stage as
Cleo and her father danced.

“That’s beautiful,”
Rebecca whispered beside her, her arm going around Isabella’s shoulder as soon
as she was close enough.

“Yeah,” Isabella
answered on a sigh.  Then blinked and smiled at her friend.  “Why aren’t you
out there with one of your guys?”

“Lucas mentioned to
Griffin that he was taking the evening off to guard his daughter at the drunken
luau.  Those were his words, by the way, ‘guard’ his daughter.  He also told
him that the hardware installation was finished with the cameras and motion
detectors on the out of the way spots where someone might try to swim ashore
without detection.  The boys are walking the island with Logan so he can show
them all the hot spots and familiarize them with the lay out.”

“And they left you
without escort?”  Isabella turned fully to her friend, the arm across her
shoulder dropping off.  “With the Lionsgate pack here and an open bar to make
the guests stupid?”

“I told them I wanted
some time with you, and I reminded them that wherever you are Lucas Gibbs would
not be far behind.”

Isabella had to concede
that point, so she shrugged.  “What did you want to talk about?”

Rebecca looked around
and then dragged Isabella away from the stage and the too loud music, until
they were far enough away no one would disturb them. 

“It seems that they’re
almost finished with this job.”  Isabella flinched at the words and then took a
deep breath.  Rebecca squeezed her hands in support. “Have you thought about
what will happen then?”

“They’ll go home,” she
said it in a whisper.  Even she could hear the dead space in the words.

“Isabella, I love you,
and I would hate to see you go,” Rebecca squeezed her hands again, “but we both
know you won’t be happy anywhere that man isn’t.”

Isabella licked her
lips and opened her mouth to speak.  Then she closed it and sighed.  “What
about Rickarts?  I care about this pack, Becca, and Lucas would lose his mind
if he failed to protect any of them.  If they were hurt because of me . . .”

“Let’s look at it this
way . . .”

Isabella blinked at
her.  “What?”

“Lucas already knows
this Rickarts is after you.  He knows you were worried enough to fake your own
death to escape him, and he knows the only thing standing between the two of
you finding ultimate happiness is this selfish prick of an alpha.  Do you
really think if you tell the man you are not going with him, and it’s for his
own good, that he’ll let it go?  Keep in mind this is
Lucas Gibbs
we’re
talking about.”

Isabella wondered if
her legs were going to hold her when the full extent of her stupidity was
exposed.  She looked blindly into the distance.  “I never had a chance to stop
this war, did I?”

“Nope.”  Rebecca shook
her head, her voice dry and utterly sure. 

“I am so screwed.”

“But in a good way.”

That made her laugh,
even while she faced her situation.

“I will hate myself if
any one of them gets hurt.”

“Why?  Because some
crazy whack job thinks he can have whatever he wants?  None of this is your
fault.  My advice?”  Rebecca wrapped her arm around Isabella’s shoulders and
squeezed.  “Take a good long look at your mate.  From what Griffin says, it’s
not just brawn and military training that keeps him and his men alive; he has a
seriously dangerous brain under all that hair.”

Isabella laughed again,
then pulled her friend close and hugged her tight.  “I’m going to miss you,
Becca.”

“Yeah.”  Her voice
broke on the word, and Isabella couldn’t stop her own tear from escaping.  They
clung tightly to each other; Rebecca to offer comfort, and because she would
miss her friend; Isabella because she was scared out of her skull she was going
to get someone she loved hurt. . . and she was going to miss her friend.

“Ooh, girl on girl
action.  My favorite.”  The voice was low and rough, snide in its tone;
Isabella sighed a deep breath while she felt Rebecca tighten, probably grinding
her teeth.  Most of the time, the guests just wanted some romance and
excitement, or a couple’s retreat for the two of them; then there were the rich
jerks who thought ‘Anything Goes’ was the theme song and all women easy.  The
humans always seemed to be the worst.  Those Linc or Jacob usually had a word
with and they shaped up or were shipped out.  This guy was clearly human, which
was surprising; she didn’t know there were any full human guests here now, must
be a guest of a shifter party.

She and Rebecca pulled
apart, Isabella was wiping her eyes through her glare, Rebecca was just
glaring.  “The party is that way,” she said, pointing to the dance floor and
stage.  “Feel free to go there.”

The man was standing in
the shadows cast by the palms; he had on a wetsuit and Isabella assumed he had
been diving before he came to the party.  She could not see much of his face,
other than his lips, which looked thin and hard, like the rest of him. 

“Actually looks like
the party I want is right here,” he said, just before he pulled a gun.  A gun
with a silencer, like you would see in a spy movie. 
What the hell?
 
Where he had it hidden in a wet suit she had no clue, but she and Rebecca froze
at the unexpected sight.  “Now, I know who you are,” he said tipping his gun at
Isabella.
Shit.  Rickarts.  How did he find me?
  Then he moved the gun
to Rebecca.  “But who are you?”

“Resort staff,” she
said without delay.  She pointed to the t-shirt and shorts she wore.  “I’m just
taking a break.”

“Bad luck, baby doll,” he
mumbled, just before he shot Rebecca in the stomach.

“Becca!” Miley yelled,
her hands trying to catch her as she fell.  They both hit the ground together,
Miley’s arms going around Rebecca so that she landed partway in her lap.  She
immediately moved her hands to apply pressure on the bleeding wound, closing
her eyes and feeling the familiar heat building beneath her hands. 

Rebecca clutched at her
arms, her eyes frantic, while she gasped and twisted against the pain, trying
to speak through a throat that was closed with pain and panic.  “Isa . . .”

Miley snapped her eyes
open and shook her head. 
“No.  No.  No,”
Isabella choked out.
Then she leaned down until she was at
Rebecca’s ear and whispered, “Calm, Becca.  You’re going to be alright.” 
Whether it was her words or her taking away of the pain, Rebecca relaxed back
into her arms, her eyes glued to the surety in Miley’s.  The shock on her face
for more than the gunshot wound.  “Trust me,” Miley whispered, and Rebecca sank
further to the ground, her eyes closing, her face relaxing.

“What the fuck?”  The
man growled, kneeling down to look at Rebecca closer.  “Seen a lot of people
die that way.  Never seen them do it with a fucking smile.”

Miley kept her hands on
Rebecca’s stomach.  Blood was pooled around them, but the wound had already
closed beneath the heat of her gift.  She wanted to spring at the guy and rip
his throat out for the blood coating her hands slick, but she had to stall, for
Rebecca’s sake.

“Why did you do that?” she
asked instead, her gaze cold and brittle on his face.  Her hands pressing the
healing heat deep into her friend’s tissues and organs.  “You didn’t have to
kill her.”

He just shrugged, his
eyes, she noticed, were light brown and dead inside.  Except for the curious
way he was studying Rebecca, he seemed to have no emotions whatsoever.  “Don’t
like loose ends.  Now up you go,” he said, with his hand not holding the gun
grabbing her upper arm to pull her up.  Miley fought against his hold, but sent
a last surge of heat into Rebecca knowing she was going to be dragged away
despite her struggles.  She just hoped it was enough.  Sending out a surge like
that took the last of her reserves and her legs refused to hold her when he
yanked her to her feet.  He cursed.  “Stand the fuck up, and walk, or you will
end up lying in a pool of your own blood like your pretty friend there.”

“I doubt that,” she
said, but she was slurring her words, fighting to keep her eyes open.  “You
need to bring me in alive.”  Her voice was a mumble at this point as she fought
to stay awake, even with every ounce of energy in her body depleted.  “Not . .
. any . . . good . . . dead.”

“Fuck.”  She heard, and
then he was holding both her arms and shaking her.  “What the fuck is wrong
with you?”

She heard another
voice.  “What the fuck is taking so long?”

“Shit.”  She felt a
hard slap across her face, but even the sharp pain and the taste of blood on
her lip was not enough to wake her up, not fully.  She was up and over, a bony
shoulder digging into her stomach, making her hurt deep with each jounce and
flop.

Then she heard the roar
of a lion.  A very angry lion.

“Fuck!”

As exhausted as she
was, Miley did not try to open her eyes, but she did smile.

A second lion roar came
from somewhere to the left of them, and then the howl of wolves sounding like
they were surrounded.   Both men must have stopped, because she could hear the
panicked breathing but no rustling of moving feet.  Wetsuit dropped her on the
ground without ceremony, and she landed right on her head, which caused her
neck to wrench painfully.  She lay on the ground on her back and opened her
eyes enough to see one of the men disappear straight up into the trees, his
feet flailing as he screamed.  She blinked sleepily as the muzzle flash from
two guns stained the night, but very little sound could be heard. 

Wetsuit guy was clearly
in a panic if his harsh breathing and cursing was any indication.  “Fuck!  What
the fuck?  Is that a fucking lion?  Fuck!” 

He should have been
more worried about the wolves.

One second he was standing,
flashing his gun around in a panic, the next he turned and looked at Miley
laying on the ground where he dropped her, blinking to try to keep her eyes
open.  Clearly thinking some insurance was in order, he reached for her.  A
wolf came out of the dark and ripped off his extended arm before he could touch
her.  The man bellowed his pain and rage, looking down at what used to be his
arm, and was now a ragged bloody stump.  He dropped to his knees, bringing his
gun around.  Another flash of fur, and his hand and gun were long gone.

Remembering the cold-blooded
way he shot Rebecca and left her to bleed out, Isabella didn’t feel too bad
about it.  The last thing she saw before her eyes closed for good were the wolves
coming out of the dark, their gold eyes firmly fixed with predatory intent on
the screaming man.  In the face of that nightmare, the cold-blooded professional
was long gone.  All that was left was prey.