Comes Now the Wicked Woodsman (17 page)

Stiffening, Mallory brushed a hand against his left hip where the revolver was covered by his leather vest. Anyone who was packing was supposed to check their gun at the door with Finch on duty for the night as the armorer.

"Put it on the table," Taron growled. "Slowly."

The old wolf's hand shook as he obeyed.

"Came in the back," he said, eyes darting to where Landa mechanically walked the dust pan over to the trash. "Slipped my mind after I got busy with...stuff."

Something was wrong with the she-cat.

She moved like she was drugged.

I realized the danger a second too late, waiting until she passed near the table before I leaped for the revolver. Her hand darted out, her feline reflexes and proximity beating me to it.

All of the shifters around her reacted too slowly, their attention focused on Mallory.

But none of them were her targets.

She had snatched up the revolver to finish a job.

"I'm done sucking and sweeping."

Hissing, her aim shifted a foot from where she pointed the barrel's tip at my chest, her bright blue gaze narrowing on the table where the other women were sitting.

Seated around it were Onyx, who had claimed Taron as mate, and Clover, who had not only stuck up for Onyx when almost everyone in the Woodsmen wanted to hand her over to her old pack, but had also found a way to save the she-wolf.

And Paisley -- my Paisley.

The Friday night after Holly's death flashed through my mind as I twisted in my leap, my path intersecting Landa's new target as she fired.

I had gone into the kitchen just as I remembered, drunker than I'd ever been because I knew it wouldn't be long before Paisley was back in town. That we'd had to learn of Holly's death from someone other than her granddaughter had stabbed at me for two long days.

Angry and teased all night by Landa rubbing up against me, I had walked in on her violently stroking her pussy and looking over her shoulder, her acute sense of hearing identifying me before I stepped into the kitchen.

I'd let her grind against me some more, even let her get down on her knees. But as she worked to undo my belt, I sighed Paisley's name.

Hell hath no fury like a she-cat scorned.

Landa's bullet tore through my shoulder. Clover screamed a heartbeat later.

Hitting the ground, I immediately jumped up, launching myself at Landa as she took aim at the table again. Clover's screams continued to pierce the air but I knew she wasn't hurt, just horrified.

Mid-jump, I shifted to my alpha state. One sharply clawed hand wrapped high up Landa's gun arm. The other hand sank into her chest as I jerked on the arm. My hind legs kicked forward, claws embedding in her chest as I knocked her to the ground.

Her arm fully detached, the gun falling useless to the ground as the crazy left her bright blue eyes forever.

"Wolf rounds!" I snarled, gaining my feet and spinning toward Mallory. My shoulder throbbed from the custom bullet meant to pierce body armor or shred a shifter.

He wasn't looking at me. No one was. I glanced around for Taron and caught sight of Clover as pale as the white wall behind her.

Taron knelt on the ground, his mate next to him.

"Paisley?" I said, not seeing her, not understanding because my brain refused to process the possibility.

"Get the med kit," Taron roared before bellowing Mallory's name.

The old wolf jumped to attention, shouldering everyone out of the way. He had spent five years in the trenches down south. With his weak alpha powers, he had been forced to learn the more mundane ways to save the shifters he had fought with -- the human ways.

Everything flowed in slow motion as I made my way to the table, my feet stumbling over one another. Clover met my gaze, the awful truth streaming down her cheeks.

The custom bullet that had ripped through my already healing arm had hit Paisley.

She was on the floor, blood soaking her clothes and the ground beneath her.

Joshua skidded to a stop next to Mallory, popping the lid on the med kit and pulling out an XStat syringe filled with small, injectable sponges coated with an anti-hemorrhagic. Mallory snatched it from him, positioned the syringe and pressed the plunger.

"Flip her," he ordered, pulling the syringe out.

Taron rolled Paisley onto her side as I dropped to my knees. Pushing me aside, Mallory injected the last of the vial into the exit wound then searched for a pulse.

"She's as good as bled out," he said, hand dropping to his side.

"No!" I howled. Claws erupting, I grabbed Mallory by the throat.

Joshua tried to wrestle my hand loose as Onyx's softly voice question filtered through the haze of rage and grief.

"Is there anything that can save her?"

"She's not a shifter. We can't heal her," Taron said as Joshua answered at the same time, "Human blood and we can't get it fast enough."

Letting go of Mallory's throat, I dropped to the floor, my hands resuming their human shape to stroke at Paisley's cold cheek. Her eyes were open, the last of her life slipping away as she looked at me, tears making her gray gaze sparkle.

"Love, don't leave." I kissed her pale lips, uselessly tried to push my alpha energy into her.

"Use my blood," Onyx said, tearing at Paisley's sleeve and then her own to expose the veiny flesh.

"Baby," Taron objected, his tone not so much a lover calling his mate "baby," but reminding her of the cub inside her. "We don't know...and it could kill Paisley."

"It was human blood once," Onyx said as Mallory recovered and inserted a catheter into Onyx's arm. "O Negative. We know she'll die if we don't try."

"Please, Taron," I rasped, taking his hand and placing it on Onyx's stomach where his cub was growing. "You can protect the baby. This is Paisley's only chance."

Mallory didn't wait for the big bear to consent. His hands moved with a superhuman efficiency as he finished prepping Paisley and the tube running between the two women began to slowly fill with red.

I rested my face close to Paisley's, my hand centered over her heart. She was cold, cold as the wind blowing outside, but her body didn't, couldn't, shiver.

Hours seemed to pass between each detectible beat of her heart. Everyone was muffled and blurry. Joshua led a weeping Clover away, giving Mallory room to continue working while Taron cradled his mate, his hand against the barely visible baby bump.

"Even if this works, it won't be enough." Mallory said, his voice of doom penetrating the thick fog of my grief.

My brain started shutting down. She was dying and there was nothing I could do.

Instinct rebelled, took over, and pushed my alpha energy through the palm I held against her chest. Heat spiked from Paisley's chest back up to my palm. I lifted my head, felt it pulse again, pushed more of me into her.

"What the hell is happening?" Mallory whispered.

It was the blood flowing from the she-wolf responding to my alpha energy, blood that was neither fully human nor fully wolf.

"Use your alpha," I snapped at Mallory.

"Joshua, get your ass back over here," Taron boomed as his hands shifted from his mate's stomach to join mine on Paisley's chest. "Take care of Onyx."

I stared at Paisley's face, all my energy pouring into her, as well as that of Mallory and Taron. The waxy gray coloring faded and she blinked.

She fucking blinked!

A sob of relief tore from my throat.

"That's all that the baby can take," Joshua said, stopping the flow of blood from Onyx.

I looked from the cougar to Mallory, his face locked in a pessimistic scowl at my unvoiced question.

He shrugged, his hands never breaking contact with Paisley as we continued to push our alpha energy into her.

"Let's hope it was enough."

********************

Paisley

Braeden entered the bedroom with a mock growl. "Out of my bed, munchkin."

Even though I was the shortest person in the bed, Clover was the recipient of his command. She didn't flex a single muscle beyond huffing her acknowledgement.

"What about gray for my dress," she asked as Braeden gently settled his weight on the other side of me.

His green gaze met her matching one. "Seriously, I would toss your bratty butt over my shoulder and lock you out in the hall if I could do it without jostling Paisley."

"Not jostling Paisley is exactly why I refuse to obey your silly command." Her head turned every so slowly to look at me. "Grey would go well with the memorial aspect, don't you think?"

"Yes." My nostrils stung with the threat of tears, their cause half joy, half grief. I was about to get married to the man of my dreams, a man who was even more amazing than I had realized, but my grandmother -- my emotional rock since my parents death when I was a toddler -- was dead.

And I hadn't even collected her ashes from the funeral home.

"Shh, love," Braeden coaxed as he gently leaned in to kiss my cheek. "You're not supposed to get upset. You need to focus on healing."

"There's a lot of gray in the clubhouse already," Clover went on, as if Braeden was the one who wasn't supposed to be in his bedroom sitting next to me on his bed.

"You are a brat," I laughed, immediately regretting my amusement as pain radiated through my shoulder.

"Here," Braeden said, snuggling close and placing his palm against my shoulder.

Warmth infused my body and I was ready to cry all over again, this time purely from joy over the miracle that had happened. Not only had Onyx's blood saved my life, but its presence in my body allowed me to feel Braeden's alpha energy and be healed by it.

Only it didn't work full force and I spent hours each day wondering when my connection would get cut off.

"Don't turn sad on me again, shortcake," he teased.

"I won't," I promised. I had too much to be grateful for and oddly because of that crazy bitch Landa. She'd tried to kill me twice, and failed, losing her own life in the process. Her attempts had brought about exactly the thing she had been trying to stop -- Braeden and me, together, our hearts pledged to one another forever.

"She was insane," I said, thinking out loud.

"Don't feel sorry for her," Clover growled. "She was Ted Bundy crazy, everything existing in her mind for her benefit only. I can't believe the balls she had to keep all those videos!"

The videos -- I'd only had a small taste of them, my stomach revolting after the first few minutes of the little narcissist talking to herself, the conversations recorded both on her laptop and her cell phone. She had been in Holly's house before my grandmother's death, taking the "grand tour" of the little cabin, mocking everything she saw, secretly soiling things. She did other things, too, to other people, even tried to make secret pacts with the prides in Illinois to sell out the Woodsmen.

Clover, of course, had watched every single video, probably more than once. At least her dedication explained the mystery of the disappearing text on Mallory's phone. Landa had gone low tech, bragging in one of her videos about swiping the phone off the table from where Mallory had carelessly left it before the meeting, deleting the text and sliding it back onto the bar while she pretended to wipe things down.

Brazen, insane and thoroughly unmourned.

Lifting his head, Braeden scowled at his little sister. "She needs to rest. You want to plan a wedding, go plan your own."

She snorted at him but very gingerly lifted herself off the bed, leaning back down to plant the lightest of kisses on my cheek.

"I liked it better when you were always in my room," she teased. "Can't you just visit this room for the sex and spend the rest of the time with me?"

I answered with a wincing laugh and a shake of my head. "He's right. You need a man, bestie."

She wrinkled her nose and left, calling over her shoulder as she closed the door. "Later, losers."

"Too old to start spanking her," Braeden sighed and sent a fresh pulse of energy into my shoulder.

"I'm pretty sure that would work better if the contact was direct," I said.

A week had passed since the shooting, and all I'd had from him were sweet kisses, body heat and his healing touch -- but the latter only against my shoulder.

I was ready for more.

"You heard what Mallory said."

That produced the biggest, most pain-inducing laugh yet.

"Oh, so you've started listening to Mallory Craw, have you?" Reaching my good arm across my chest, I poked at Braeden. "Ever think he's just cock blocking you for the fun of it?"

He frowned, shook his head. "No, but I know he sure as hell wants you to have a thousand percent chance at a full recovery since it was his revolver and custom ammunition that ripped through you."

The bullet had ripped through both of us, Braeden taking it in the shoulder but healing at an alpha's speed. He hadn't even had a scar when I finally woke up the afternoon following the shooting.