Hunter's Heart: Wolf Shifter Romance (Wild Lake Wolves Book 5) (5 page)

“You,” Derek said as he took a faltering step toward
me. Then, he took a breath and steadied himself. But, I knew that strength
couldn’t last forever. If I could just wait him out. If I could just get back
to the salvage yard. “Are going to start by getting this bullet out of my
shoulder.”

“I’m what?” Then Derek’s fingers closed around my wrist
and he pulled me toward the back door.

Chapter Five

Derek parked his truck about fifty yards away from
the house, shielded under some overgrown weeds. He kept a tight grip on my wrists,
and I had to break into a full run just to keep up with his stride. He didn’t
let me fall. He also didn’t let me go.

“Back seat,” he said as he opened the cab door.
“I’ve got a toolbox back there. Grab it.”

Derek held the door open, making me go in ahead of
him. I had no hope of outrunning him, of course. I leaned in and saw a red,
metal toolbox wedged on the floor of the extended cab. I made a quick scan,
looking for anything else I could use as a weapon. Maybe if I turned around and
brained him with something heavy, I’d have enough time to root out his keys and
drive the hell out of here.

I felt the contour of his body against my thigh. My
heart raced and the air went out of me in a whoosh. An ache filled me, making
me want to turn into him when I knew I should be trying to run away. I gripped
the handle of the toolbox and twisted to face him. The metal box wedged between
us, but Derek’s eyes were only a few inches from mine. He cocked his head to
the side slightly, and that infernal flash of gold sent shuddering heat
straight down my spine.

“Good,” he said. He took the toolbox from me and
tossed it into the bed of the truck. “Now get in.”

“What?”

“You heard me. We don’t have a lot of time. That
wolf’s pack is already on their way. They felt him die. Can’t you smell them?”

Derek lifted his chin and sniffed the air. I
couldn’t help myself; I tried it too. Closing my eyes, I inhaled. But, all I
could smell was the sour rot of a skunk or other road kill not far off and the
distant scent of something burning. And Derek. I could smell Derek. Musk and
spice. A clean smell. But, wild too. He filled my head and made me dizzy. I
took a staggering step back. When I opened my eyes, Derek stared down at me,
those luscious lips curved into a half smile.

“Get in,” he said, closing his fingers around my
upper arm. “You’re driving. Just in case I pass out again.”

My heart flared with hope. He’d just given me the
means to escape. The instant I thought it, Derek reached beneath the seat and
pulled out a light blue zip tie gun. Before I could protest, he grabbed my
right wrist and lifted his left. In one swift motion, he snapped a new tie
around us both, handcuffing me to him. Then, he shot me a full smile and wagged
his brows.

Fucker.

I climbed in through the passenger side and crawled
across the bench seat, dragging my right arm behind me as Derek slipped in. I
was about to throw him a smartass comment when across the field, a chorus of
howls rose through the trees. Terror turned my blood to ice, and I looked at
Derek.

“Drive,” he said, slapping the keys into my right
hand as he raised his left. “Preferably fast. Head back out to the highway.
Rest stop about three miles west. You know it?”

I nodded.

“Good. Well lit. Secluded. It’ll be perfect for us.”

Perfect. Great. I put the keys into the ignition and
slammed the truck into reverse. Derek kept his arm raised to keep mine from
dragging down under the weight of it as I turned the wheel. The wheels kicked
up dirt and spun out, but I floored the gas and we rocketed forward. I
navigated the Tuckers’ yard, keeping the headlights off so as not to draw any
more attention to us. When I finally hit the pavement at the end of the
overgrown driveway, the truck’s tires squealed and we were on our way.

Derek gently closed the fingers of his left hand over
mine as I maneuvered the steering wheel. I kept my eyes tightly focused on the
road. But, every nerve ending in my body sizzled with strange energy, spreading
from his point of contact on my hand.

Derek was right. The rest stop was basically
deserted, which surprised me. I thought surely there’d be a trucker or two
pulled in for a night’s rest. But, we were alone. Derek pointed toward a
parking spot at the back of the building under a huge floodlight.

“Keep the engine running,” he said, his voice
becoming ragged again. He braced himself with his free hand against the
dashboard as I turned the wheel and pulled in. Time was running out for him. I
slammed the truck into park and let out a breath.

“What now?”

Derek motioned toward the door with his head. He
opened the passenger door and slid out, half dragging me with him. We walked
around the cab and he grabbed the toolbox out of the truck bed. It dawned on me
why he did it. There was probably something inside of that box I could have
used to cut the zip ties binding us if he
had
passed out on me. But,
this way, I would have had to figure out a way to drag him out of the truck and
along with me to reach it. A shot of fear went through me, imagining what would
have happened then if the wolf pack showed up.

“I’ll sit on the front bumper, directly under the
flood lamp,” he gasped his words. The effort of talking, of even standing
upright clearly tortured him. I felt the first stab of guilt for the pain I’d
caused him and tried to close my eyes against it. He was who he was. I could
never forget that. The only reason he hadn’t killed me was that he needed me.
So what was to stop him from doing it the second I got that bullet out?
If
I got that bullet out.

Derek led me around to the front of the truck and
perched himself on the bumper. He set the toolbox down beside him and reached
down to open the latches. He pulled out a pair of wire cutters, a flathead
screwdriver, and needle nosed pliers. My eyes widened in shock. He also had a
pint of Jack Daniels tucked in the lid. He grabbed that too.

“You can’t be serious!”

“As
a fucking heart attack,” Derek said, twisting the cap off with his
teeth. He took a swig and handed the bottle to me. “Wouldn’t hurt you either.”

I took the bottle from him and chugged a shot
without hesitation. The liquid burned going down and I gagged on it. Still,
warm courage flooded through me as I handed it back. Derek shook his head.

“Use it to sterilize this shit.” He handed me the
pliers and grabbed a small Maglite from the tool box. He clicked it on and held
it between his teeth, angling it toward his shoulder. Between that and the
floodlights, I could see clearly enough. His wound gaped open; new blood
trickled down his sculpted chest. I just prayed my bullet wasn’t too deep.

“I’ve never done this before,” I said, and my throat
had gone dry. I took another smaller sip of the bourbon.

“I have,” he said. “Nothing to it. See if you can
visualize the bullet and we’ll take it from there.” He grabbed the zip tie
binding us and gave it a quick snap with just his index finger, breaking it.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I shook my
head and stepped forward.

“You better hurry,” he said. “Driving here bought us
maybe an extra fifteen minutes. But I’m bleeding. They can track both of us
pretty easily. They’ll rip you apart if I don’t have the strength to shift or
hold them off.”

“Brilliant.”

Taking a steadying breath, I put my hands flat on
either side of Derek’s wound. One on his shoulder, the other on his chest, just
above his wildly beating heart. Something happened. His strong pulse seemed to
fill me. It was the only thing I could hear for an instant. The world seemed to
fall away and every sense in my body seemed to orbit around Derek’s heartbeat.
It became my own. I felt it in the tiny beat against my neck. When his pulse
fluttered, so did mine. My eyes snapped open and met his. His had gone wolf
again, but just for an instant.

“Hurry, Jessa,” he whispered. “We’re out of time.”

I took the pliers. “This will hurt,” I said.

“I know.”

“What if I kill you on accident?”

“You won’t. You’d have to shoot me through the brain
or the heart, remember?”

“Right.”

I spread my fingers across the wound. A perfect
circle, really. Blood pooled at the center. I poured a small amount of the
alcohol into the wound, not sure if it would make any difference. Derek was
right, without a shot through the heart or gray matter, infection wasn’t a
worry. But, I couldn’t’ see anything. Derek reached down again and handed me a
pair of latex gloves he had in a packet in the toolbox.

“Handy.” I gave him a wry smile. “You do this sort
of thing often?”

“Find the bullet,” he said.

Nodding, I snapped on the gloves. I desperately
wanted another shot of Jack, but figured I’d reached the point where my head
would start to cloud. I slid my index finger inside the wound, letting out a
squeal as I did it.

“So gross,” I whispered.

Derek sucked air through his teeth, but didn’t move.

“I can’t. There isn’t.” Then I felt it. A hard disk
that shifted when I touched it.

“Fuck!” Derek shouted and grabbed the whiskey from
me. He took another swig and handed it back.

“It’s not very deep,” I marveled. “I think I can
just pull it out.” God, I could
feel
the thing. Such a tiny, little
piece of metal with the ability to do so much damage. I was glad of the gloves
for more than one reason. If any of the toxin still coated the plug, it would
make me instantly sick just from skin contact. Dad learned that one the hard
way a few months ago.

Derek handed me the pliers. “It’ll be more slippery
than you think. Use these.”

My eyes met his again, and I nodded. He poured the
whiskey over the blades and handed gave me a slow blink. “Just do it fast,” he
said.

“Right.”

I kept one finger on the metal disk so I wouldn’t
lose it, then I slid the pliers into the wound. Derek gritted his teeth, but
still, he didn’t move. I missed the first time. And the second. When I went in
again, Derek’s wolf eyes glared at me. If the toxin let him shift, he might
have torn me apart. Hell, the second I got the bullet out, he might do it
anyway. On the third try, I felt the pliers close around the metal. The instant
they did, I pulled hard, afraid I’d lose my nerve. I knew instinctively Derek
wouldn’t be able to stay upright for a fourth attempt. And there was something
else. Howling rose in the distance again. Derek was right. We were out of time.

“Here we go!” I grimaced and closed my eyes. I
yanked hard. Derek cried out, but the bullet came out with a pop. I held it up;
it glistened red under the floodlight. But, I had it. The thing had flattened,
but it was whole. No jagged edges or flaking. If there was anything left of it
still in Derek, it was microscopically small.

Derek doubled over with his hands on his knees and
promptly threw up all over the asphalt. I took a step back just in time to save
my boots. He stayed prone like that for a heartbeat. Then another. I still felt
like I could hear his pulse inside my own head. But, I must have imagined that.
It wasn’t possible. His grew steadier, stronger.

I snapped off my latex gloves and wrapped the bullet
inside of them. I tossed it and the rest of the tools in the toolbox. Derek
raised his head high enough to shoot me an arched brow.

“Don’t want that getting into the wrong hands, you
know.”

He shook his head and let out a bitter laugh.
“Right. Having it in your hands is bad enough.”

“Well, how did I do?” I asked, looking over my
shoulder toward the sound of the wolves. They were getting closer.

Derek rose to his feet and squared his shoulders.
Those wolf eyes flared to life, sending sparks of heat shooting through me
straight down to my toes. The air crackled around me with that same dark magic
I’d felt when he shifted in front of me back at the campground. Fur sprouted on
his hands and he dropped to all fours. I took a staggering step back.

“Bloody hell!” If he shifted in front of me, what
was to stop him from tearing me apart now that he’d gotten what he wanted?

Derek arched his back and craned his neck. His
breaths came hard and heavy through gritted teeth. His pulse thundered through
me, making my very bones vibrate.

Then . . . nothing.

He craned his neck again. Again the ground seemed to
shudder beneath him. His wolf was there, but still couldn’t come out.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered as the howling grew
closer. Ahead of us, on the other side of the building, gold eyes danced among
the trees. The wolves were here.

We were fucked.

“Shit!” Derek said, staggering to his feet. He
gripped my arm and pushed me into the truck. “They’ll kill us both. Jessa,
drive!”

Chapter Six

I drove. I slammed the car into reverse and floored
the gas. Three huge gray wolves charged through the tree line, jaws snapping,
their eyes lit with bloodlust. Derek gripped the dashboard. He seemed caught
between man and wolf. Baring his own teeth, his eyes flashed fire, and sweat
poured from him as his chest heaved.

I got us turned around and hit the on-ramp going
close to eighty. The wolves kept up. One of them leaped toward the open
driver’s side window. Its great fangs clamped down as its front paws gripped
the doorframe. I screamed, swerving the truck to try and jar it loose.

Though he couldn’t complete his own shift, Derek
reached across my chest, moving with a flash of speed and fury; he shoved the
wolf back just before he would have chomped my shoulder. I saw him skitter and
roll across the pavement in my side mirror. Derek trembled beside me, but
seemed to recover faster this time. He carved a hand through his hair and
turned back.

“Go faster,” he said, his voice deadly even now.
But, I already had the gas pedal pressed all the way to the floor. The truck
lurched and rocketed forward as we merged onto the highway going almost a
hundred miles an hour.

I didn’t think. I just drove. Derek didn’t tell me
where to go, but I already knew. There was only one place those wolves wouldn’t
dare to follow. At least, I hoped. I checked the mirrors and slowed the truck.
Derek gave me a horrified look, but I kept on going. I took the median and made
a U-turn, nearly tipping the truck. Once I hit pavement again, I floored the
gas and headed home.

“Are you . . . uh . . . okay?” I shouted over the
roar of the engine. From the rearview mirror I saw four pairs of wolf eyes
running behind us. But, at this speed, I’d started to put some distance between
us. The change of direction threw them, at least long enough to let me gain
ground.

“It’s better,” he said. Strangely though, I already
knew. Still, I felt the echo of Derek’s pulse pumping in my own ears. Stronger.
Steadier. Because of it, perhaps deadlier.

“Good,” I said, meaning it.

Another howl rent the air and curdled my blood.
Derek’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the dashboard. I worried he might
rip the molding right off. The front windshield vibrated from the pressure.

“Derek,” I said, trying to make my voice even. “Try
not to crush the truck, okay? We need it for the next little bit.” On instinct,
I reached over and put a steadying hand on his arm. Again, electric fire seemed
to arc from him to me. The veins in his forearms bulged, but he relaxed his
grip and slowly slid his hands down into his lap.

The wolves kept up their pace. They were about fifty
yards behind us, but showed no sign of slowing down. I counted five of them
now. I just prayed I was right that they wouldn’t be so bold as to run straight
onto the salvage yard. Dad had the place wired with sensors he’d invented. An
alarm would go off inside each of the trailers. He and Grammy would be armed
and ready as soon as we drove through the front gate.

Which meant I had a decision to make. Driving into
the yard was my best chance of evading the pack of murderous wolves behind me.
But, what would it mean for the one sitting in the truck next to me?

Derek hadn’t asked me where I was headed. Another
act of trust after letting me dig into his flesh with a pair of pliers. He said
I couldn’t have killed him that way, but I knew better. Maybe not killed, but I
could have either by accident or on purpose shredded one of his arteries. If
not fatal, it certainly would have been enough to incapacitate him long enough
for me to get the gun back.

So why hadn’t I?

I could add that to the list of questions plaguing
my mind as we hurtled down the highway and toward my father’s compound at the
junkyard. Why had I hesitated when I had the chance to kill him? Not once. But,
every time. Even as I thought it, I knew it was true. I
had
the shot
back at the campground. Clear. Unobstructed. It wasn’t dumb luck or bad aim on
my part. I’d pulled to the right on purpose. Just a fraction of an inch. A
millimeter, even. It happened in that last instant as I pulled the trigger.
Something came over me back there. That same something that made my blood hum
when Derek touched me now. Between that, and the toxin’s strange effect on him,
one thing was abundantly clear.

Derek Monroe wasn’t like other werewolves.

It happened just like I hoped it would. I made the
final turn down the dirt road leading to the salvage yard. Our pursuers dropped
back. Their leader gave a last howl of warning, but they didn’t advance. Derek
watched through the rearview mirror. I looked up, and his eyes caught mine.

The freshly painted Lyle Salvage Yard sign loomed
above us, just twenty yards away. Derek didn’t stop me. He gave me a slow nod
and swallowed hard. He didn’t have to say what was on his mind. I understood.

This was yet another act of trust. His life was in
my hands. I kept on driving.

We approached the gate. The lock operated with a
keypad. I punched in my code. The silent alarm had already tripped, I knew. Two
red lights switched on. If Dad was recovered enough to be mobile, he and Grammy
had likely already armed themselves.

I looked straight into the security camera pointed
at the truck. I gave a slow nod and then looked at Derek. This time, I didn’t
have to say anything for him to understand what was happening.
Trust me
.
I said with my eyes. Well, that and don’t try anything stupid.

I drove through the gate.

Just as I knew they would, Dad and Grammy were
waiting. They walked out from Grammy’s trailer. Grammy had armed herself with
the shotgun again. Dad had the more lethal weapon, his modified AR-15. It
carried the same toxin-laced bullets as my nine. Though, I imagine when all the
rounds hit Derek at once, even
he
wouldn’t get back up.

I put my hands up, signaling to Dad to hold his
fire. He gave me a slow nod but kept his shoulders tense. “Don’t do anything
stupid,” I warned Derek.

He laughed. “You mean like let you drive me into
this viper’s nest?”

I didn’t laugh back. I got out of the truck and walked
toward my father. Derek slowly opened the passenger door and got out, hands
held high. He followed me. Dad gave me a questioning look but didn’t lower his
weapon. Grammy did.

She reached into the pocket of her shorts and pulled
out a small, black whistle. Before I could tell her not to, she brought it to
her lips, inhaled, and blew.

To me, it just sounded like a high-pitched whine,
but Derek reacted instantly. Clutching his ears, he dropped to his knees and
started to twitch. The Wolf Whistle. Another of Dad’s inventions in beta form.
It shouldn’t do permanent damage, but it might incapacitate him until Grammy
ran out of air. That was the problem with the sucker. A wolf can move fast
enough to kill you before you can take another breath. Which was kind of why
the thing was still in beta. Dad was hoping to figure out a way to recreate the
sound digitally.

Sofie and Brutus dropped to the ground at Grammy’s
feet. It didn’t impact them nearly as much. Domestic dogs aren’t anything like
werewolves. Sure, they could hear the whistle, but with a fraction of the
intensity.

I reacted on instinct, putting my body between
Grammy and Derek’s. As soon as she dropped the whistle, he might not be able to
control himself. He was just as lethal to her in human form as if he’d shifted.

Grammy’s face turned red and she sputtered her last
breath. Derek leaped to his feet and moved toward her. I held my hands up, one
palm toward Derek, the other toward my father.

“Everybody just calm down!” I shouted. “Truce! At
least for five minutes. Are we clear?”

At the moment, it wasn’t my father or Grammy I
worried about. It was Derek. His eyes had gone from gold to red and back again.
It was the closest he’d come to outright shifting yet. But, when he finally
locked eyes with me, his pupils flickered and went dark again. His irises
turned amber, and he let out a hard, steady breath.

“Jessa, you want to explain this? We were worried
sick. Why didn’t you call?”

I opened my mouth to answer, then clamped it shut.
Where the hell did I start?

“Let’s go inside,” I suggested. “My trailer.”

“No chance,” Dad said. He slung his weapon over his
shoulder and stepped forward. “Pole barn. Now.”

I nodded and shot a look to Derek. He narrowed his
eyes at me but didn’t protest. I looked back at Grammy. Sweat glistened above
her brow and her chest heaved with uneven breaths. While the rest of us more or
less calmly talked, she seemed to be falling to pieces.

“Grammy? It’s okay.” I went to her and put my hands
gently on her shoulders. She trembled so badly I don’t know how she stayed
upright. Sofie and Brutus sensed her distress. They each took a position on
either side of her, tails low, teeth bared, they growled at Derek.

“It’s okay,” I told her again. I bit my lip past the
rest of what I wanted to tell her. It came to me unbidden.
He’s with me
.
As soon as I thought it, a shudder went through me.

Grammy stuck out her hand and clasped mine in a
death-like grip. She didn’t let go. Not even after we all walked into the pole
barn together.

Dad did most of his experimenting in here. He kept
everything locked in metal cabinets along the wall. The room had four long,
white tables and a large cage against the corner, big enough for a person to
stand in.

As Derek walked in behind us, Dad brought up the
rear and pressed the barrel of his gun to Derek’s back. Derek let out an
ominous growl, but obliged my father by putting his hands up. He nudged Derek forward,
and my heart raced.

I walked Grammy over to one of the tables and helped
her sit down in a folding chair. Then, I went to the cage and opened the door,
knowing full well what Dad would want.

“Jessa,” Derek said through clenched teeth. I knew
it was taking everything in him not to turn around. I was fairly certain that
in these close quarters, even in his weakened state, Derek was fully capable of
turning and disarming my father before he could react.

“Look,” I said, putting a gentling hand on Grammy’s
shoulder. She still trembled and hadn’t said a word. “We’re all taking a lot on
faith here. We all need to have a civil conversation. That’s not going to
happen if Dad and Grammy are afraid you’re going to rip our throats out. Get in
the cage. It’s better than a bullet in the back.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, but Derek gave me a
terse nod and walked toward the cage. He paused when he got to me, standing
just a foot away from Grammy. She looked up and met his eyes. Something passed
through Derek’s face as he looked at her. He cocked his head to the side and
furrowed his brow.

“You’re . . .” he started.

“Derek, don’t.” I didn’t know what was happening,
but being this close to Derek wasn’t helping Grammy’s anxiety. All the color
drained from her face and she closed her eyes.

“Grammy? Are you okay? Derek’s not going to hurt
you.” The instant I said it, I knew it was true. Had known it all along.

Derek slowly crouched down in front of her. My
father kept his weapon trained on Derek, but he didn’t move. Derek did. He
reached out and touched Grammy’s knee. A single tear fell from her eye. She
looked at him; he’d brought himself down to her eye level. With my hand on her
shoulder, and Derek’s on her knee, her trembling finally stopped.

She closed her eyes; squeezing them tight, she put a
hand up to her forehead. She shook her head no then dropped her hand in her
lap. When she opened her eyes again, she stared straight at Derek.

“Son of a bitch. Does she know?” Grammy finally
said, her voice choked and small. “Have you explained it to her yet?”

Derek’s eyes flicked from mine to Grammy’s and back
again. Fear prickled along my spine. What in the hell were they talking about?

Grammy looked over at my father. “Put the gun down,
Thomas.” Her voice was flat. “He’s not going to hurt Jessa.”

“Not planning on taking your word for that one, Ma,”
my father said, widening his stance.

“You don’t have to,” she said. “But, he won’t. Will
you, Mr. Monroe?”

I stopped breathing. Derek’s pulse thundered inside
of me, and I didn’t understand why. On some preternatural level, I knew the
answer had something to do with why Dad’s bullets didn’t kill him. Why I
couldn’t shoot him. And why, as Grammy said, Derek Monroe was never going to
hurt me. Not ever.

“Well, shit,” Grammy finally said, dropping her hand
hard against the table. “Didn’t see that one coming at all.”

Derek smiled. “Neither did I.”

She laughed. Hard and deep, until a different kind
of tear fell from her eye. “Son of a bitch.”

“Grammy?”

“Monroe,” she said. “You may not have plans to hurt
Jessa, but I can’t promise Thomas won’t put a bullet through you when you tell
him. My advice? Get in the damn cage.”

Of all the things that happened that day, what Derek
did next shocked the hell out of me most. He gave Grammy a slow nod and walked
right past me and into the cage. Then, he gave me a quick wink that sent lightning
shooting through me. Handsome. Devastating. I shook my head to clear it, slowly
closed the cage door, and engaged the lock.