Karly's Wolf (Hollow Hills Book 1) (7 page)

Karly glanced sideways, throwing a ‘save me’ look to Mama Margo, but she had been waylaid some time ago by a pack of squealing, happy children. A wilder bunch, Karly had never encountered in her life. That the morning had been spent running through the woods was obvious. They were dirty, sweaty, thrilled to be here, and the moment they’d seen Mama Margo, they had come running bearing gifts—flowers, rocks, a feather, a lizard’s discarded tail (said lizard still being imprisoned deep in the coverall pocket of the boy who’d caught it), even a spider.

Mama Margo, bless her, studied each and every treasure brought to her with all the seriousness and pride that each child seemed to think it deserved. That left Karly feeling very much alone in this corner of the field, with Sebastian McQueen standing between her and the rest of the festival taking place through the woods behind them.

“Take it,” he said again, and Karly waffled, both wincing and tsking as she accepted the butt of the revolver.

She held it, pinched between two fingers. “Now what?”

McQueen snorted. “Not like that.” His hand on hers was big and calloused, rough as sandpaper, but gentle in motion as he shifted her grip, forcing her palm to conform to the wood grip and really hold it. “Not too tight or too loose. Feel the weight.”

It was heavier than it looked and, for some reason, his hands on hers made her nervous. She tried not to let it bother her, but her gaze kept shifting to Mama Margo, who never glanced her way long enough to notice.

“Put your finger on the trigger, but don’t pull it. Just get comfortable with it and with the idea of pulling it.” Sliding his arm around her waist, McQueen slipped into position behind her. His chest touched her back. It felt very hot and hard, very solid. “Don’t worry,” he rumbled, his low voice tickling at the nape of her neck. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

That made her even more nervous. Everything about him made her uncomfortable. She couldn’t help looking around, but they were far enough from the main festival ground that all she could see were the distant tent tops and the snap of a few wind-blown pennants. She could hear the crowd, but it was doubtful if anyone there would hear her if she needed them to. Mama Margo and the kids were no help at all, and McQueen…he held her close, far too intimately for her liking, but there was no polite way to extract herself. When he tapped at her feet with his, she dutifully moved hers apart and took up a shooter’s stance.

“Now, take a deep breath.” His hands slid down her arms, coming to rest under her hands, and together, they raised the gun. “Relax. Don’t lock your arms. That’s the way. Line up the site with your target.”

Straight ahead of them, Karly focused on the first of three partially squashed beer cans that had been set along the flat edge of an old tree trunk some fifty feet away.

“Deep breath,” McQueen said. “When you’re ready, don’t pull the trigger; squeeze it. Soft and slow. Like you mean it.”

The heat and the strength of him scared her. She was encircled by arms that felt like bands of warm steel. All she could think about was how much it would hurt to get hit by hands like his. All she wanted to do was run, but she just couldn’t make herself move.

“Deep breath,” he said again, and she shivered. “Don’t be afraid. Squeeze the trigger.”

Somewhere in the distance, perhaps even on Colton’s savage football field, someone must have scored a goal because all of a sudden, she could hear shouting, cheering…and howling, of all things.

She started to look back, but McQueen’s next rumbling murmur stopped everything.

“You feel good in my arms,” he said.

She stiffened. If not for his hands, she would have dropped the gun; if not for his arms, she’d have twisted away and put immediate space between them. “Let go of me, please,” she whispered, and oh how she hated herself for how badly her broken voice shook when she said it.

“Mm,” he growled, a strangely seductive sound that rolled out of him and shivered into her. “Why else would you come to the Hunting ground, if not for this? You want to be bred.”

“What?!” The word squeaked out of her.

He shifted his hand, abandoning hers to drop and settle his, like a burning brand, low on her abdomen. The internal havoc that caused was instantaneous. She flinched, every inch of her in immediate revolt as she jerked around to push him away. His arms tightened, startling her budding struggles into stillness the instant his mouth captured hers.

Karly hit him. She hadn’t known she was going to until her fist was balled and—no maidenly slap, this—she swung. Every one of her knuckles cracked against his jaw. It worked, but only in the sense that she knocked his mouth off of hers.

McQueen laughed, licking at the hint of blood just beginning to well up at the corner of his mouth. “Spirited, too. I like that.”

He took his gun away from her, then reached for her again, and suddenly they were both struck from the side by a massive, furry weight. Karly grabbed reflexively, catching fistfuls of black hair in both hands as all three of them went straight to the ground. She hit her knees, but it wasn’t until she heard the first ferocious snarl that she realized what had knocked her over.

“Puppy!” she gasped. She didn’t know how he’d managed to escape the house, but that he was here in defense of her was unmistakable. Although she had taken part of the impact, she was not the focus of the dog’s attack. His hackles were up, every hair on his tense body was standing on end, and his teeth were bared in snarl after rasping snarl. He looked deadly as he crouched on top of Sebastian McQueen, every breath an exhaling growl of intense dislike.

McQueen lay exactly as he’d fallen, sprawled on his back with his hands up, neither defensively nor offensively poised. Not yet, anyway. His eyes, which she could have sworn mere seconds ago were dark brown, were now so brightly yellow that she wondered how she could ever have mistaken them for anything other than gold. All those bad jokes about redneck country and family inbreeding must hit close to the truth; everyone here had the strangest damn eyes!

“No! No, Puppy!” Scrambling to her knees, Karly grabbed for his scruff.  He must have lost his collar when he had escaped the house because he wasn’t wearing it now. That made holding him a heck of a lot harder. “Down. Get down!”

“You don’t impress me, boy,” McQueen told the dog. He laughed, a low, growling chuckle that somehow seemed to make his eyes shine even more yellow than before. “Puppy. How fitting.”

The snarl that rolled out of Puppy then was unlike any sound she had ever heard an animal make before. He lunged and, if not for Karly’s arms locked around his throat and chest, would have gone right for McQueen’s throat.

“Run!” she told him, barely keeping her grip on the impossibly strong dog. That he didn’t turn and bite at her in his fury to free himself was something she wouldn’t think about for hours yet to come. She heaved and struggled, dragging Puppy back by mere inches, but McQueen only rolled and now he too was in a position to attack.

“I don’t think so,” he growled. “This has been a long time in coming, hasn’t it…Puppy?” His smile was all teeth, and in that tense moment when the only thought she had, centered on whether or not she might have to save her dog from her neighbor, Karly suddenly realized they weren’t alone any more. There were people standing like shadows in the field all around them. Silent as ghosts, they watched, as if the outcome of this grossly outmatched confrontation between man and beast were instead something of paramount importance. Worse yet, there were other dogs. Three huge and snarling grays—wolves, her brain tried to label them; but there was just no way that could be true—came out of the grass behind McQueen.

“Oh my God,” Karly whispered, clinging to Puppy even tighter, scared to death that, if those dogs—wolves; no, no way—launched at her, she would let go and if she did, then all she could do was watch as her dog was torn to pieces right there in front of her.

“Help me!” she cried, and it wasn’t until she twisted to beg those closest behind her for aid that she saw two more wolves—dogs; no, it was getting harder and harder to believe canines this huge could be anything as common as dogs—closing in directly behind them. She stiffened, panic rising like vomit in the back of her throat, but she was not their target. They drew in, a flank of support behind Puppy, hackles raised, sharp teeth bared in deadly serious intent although neither made a single sound beyond the billows-like rush of their indrawn breaths.

“Come to me, girl.” Mama Margo came up through the tall grass directly behind them. She was the only one looking at Karly, her age-lined face a mask completely without compassion. “Let him go.”

“No!” Karly gasped, her arms tightening protectively around Puppy’s neck and chest. His whole body felt stiff and ready. Every breath he took was still a growl and he wasn’t backing down.

“Things like this should be settled, not left to fester.” Mama Margo held out her hand, beckoning. “Come. Let him go. The winner will be Alpha of us all.”

Karly stared at her. Funny, how crazy often never showed on the surface. It took something like this for it to expose itself clearly.

Shaking her head, barely resisting the urge to shout at her adoptive town that they were, all of them, lunatics, Karly heaved at Puppy, shoving and muscling him back inch after too-small inch until, at last, he shuddered and abruptly relented. When he retreated, so did the wolves at his back; McQueen and his wolves followed with their eyes, but did not pursue them when she dragged Puppy back. She didn’t want them to, but the two wolves that supported him followed her.

“Spirited. I like that.” McQueen’s smile became a smirk. “Come back and run with us, if you want to,” he called after her. “I’ll show you how an Alpha runs his bitch to ground.”

Puppy tried to turn back, but Karly kept him moving. People were staring as she left. Some snorted, others shook their heads; why did it suddenly feel as if she’d made a shameful mistake? She couldn’t understand it, but by the time she reached the parking lot, Puppy’s head was down and his tail was practically tucked. Those two other wolves following a good thirty feet behind her, even they looked chastened. She didn’t understand that either, but she kept a wary eye on them and her fingers locked in Puppy’s fur until she got him safely locked inside her car.

Mama Margo hadn’t followed them. Well, Mama Margo was going to have to find another ride home, because there was no way Karly was going to stay after this. Watching those stray wolves—she shivered—Karly climbed in behind the steering wheel and did not stop driving until she and Puppy were once again safely back home.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“His name is Dan Whitaker, and he’s a cop out of Redemption,” Gabe said, handing Colton the paper he’d brought to this clandestine meeting in the middle of the night. A chronic smiler under most circumstances, there were lines now around Gabe’s eyes and mouth, and none of them had anything to do with amusement. “Read this. The BOLO came in while we were up on the Ridge.”

Colton had to turn the fax sheet into the headlights of the truck. He didn’t bother reading the description, but simply stared at Karly’s black and white photo. Her last name was Whitaker, not Smith. That part wasn’t surprising. It only made sense for a woman, scared and on the run, to want to change her name. But the other part, the married part…that did surprise him. No. No, surprise wasn’t quite the right word for what he was feeling. Her husband—a cop no less—had put that bruise on her face.

The paper crinkled as his hands tightened on the edges. He had to force himself to relax before he ripped it the way he so badly wanted to rip into her husband for every moment of brutality the
chelovak
had visited upon his Karly.

His Karly?

She wasn’t his, and the BOLO picture showed that. It was a wedding photograph. Karly looked beautiful, standing alone on the steps of a white church. She wasn’t much younger than she was now and her eyes were so carefree and shining that he couldn’t help but wonder if the day that picture was taken weren’t the last time she’d been so happy…or bruise-free.

Gabe stood silently by, waiting while he looked his fill.

“What do you want me to do?” Gabe finally asked.

“Place a call to Jefferson in Grady. He might know someone over Redemption way. At the very least, he can cancel the BOLO without it leading back to us. This…Whitaker will have to do some fast talking if he tries to reinstate it. Something tells me, questions are the last thing that sonofabitch is going to want.” Dan Whitaker wasn’t in the photo. The picture had been carefully edited to leave nothing more than a disembodied hand upon her waist, but Colton stared at that, unblinking while the tick of his temper began to build behind his eyes.

“Some fellow came through town this afternoon,” Gabe reluctantly volunteered. “I didn’t see him, but Hays says he was asking after her.”

Colton drew a deep breath, trying to control the protective wrath of the wolf within. “Somebody already knows she’s here then. Who was he? Where is he now?”

“No idea on either count. He didn’t stick around.”

“Anybody talk to him?”

“And risk Mama Margo’s temper? Not a chance.”

Colton snorted, budding anger giving way to rueful laughter as he considered the old woman. “I’ve never seen her take to anyone so fast or so fondly.” He looked at Karly’s photo again, as if trying to memorize the soft lines of her unmarred face. “What about Marcus? Where is he?”

“Camping up on the Ridge last I saw.”

“Who’s he talking to?”

“No one that I’ve seen. He’s been keeping his distance pretty much since he got here.”

“Did you run his bike?”

“Yeah, he’s got a couple misdemeanors and a few traffic violations. Nothing unforgiveable or more recent than nine years ago. He seems decent enough. Says he’s not interested in a Bride, but he’ll run interference for you until you get one.”

Yeah, Colton liked him, all right. Usually, he was a pretty good judge of character. It was just that right now, when the very thought of Karly turned every other thought inside out in his head, Colton found himself uncertain which instincts to trust. “Are my clothes in the truck or are they still on the field?”

“I’ve got ‘em tucked up under the seat. What’s the plan?”

He had no clear idea. Folding the BOLO in half and then half again, Colton ran his thumbnail along the crease and glanced back up the road toward the cabin, hidden behind a curtain of trees and the darkness of night. He tapped the paper against his fingertips. “I’d better have a talk with her.”

“Right,” Gabe said, looking away. He didn’t seem at all surprised or happy by that answer. “Tell me something: Are you planning to be at the Ridge at all today? Because there’s only three days left until the Hunt and—”

“I know how many days are left,” Colton snapped, and instantly regretted it. None of this was Gabe’s fault. The security of both the pack and the territory had a lot riding on whether or not he brought down a Bride this year. For all that he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Karly, he couldn’t forget the importance of that either.

“Have you picked out a prospect yet?” Gabe snapped back. “Two would be better than one, although I’d be happy to know you’ve got at least one
volka
in mind. What pack is she from? Have you talked to her, asked her name, made your intentions known so when you tackle her to the ground, she doesn’t chew your face off the minute your weight hits her back? Because in case you’re not aware, a lot of folks left the Ridge last night with the very distinct impression that you’ve suddenly developed a hankering for
chelovak
tail.
I
might just be one of them!”

Throwing back his head, Colton glared through the darkness of crisscrossing tree branches to the star-studded sky above. He kept the explosion of off-color words locked fast behind his clenched teeth. “I know my duty,” he said tightly. “I’m getting this lecture from Margo, I don’t need it from you too.”

“Are you sure?”

The dam holding back his temper cracked just a bit. “What have you got against Karly?” he demanded. “Either of you! Any of you!”

“She’s not one of us!” Gabe growled, frustration putting more force behind his words than the situation might otherwise have deserved.

“Half the population of Hollow Hills isn’t ‘one of us’! Marcus isn’t one of us, but you’re damn eager to adopt him!”

“At least Marcus is
volka
! But trust me, the day you announce you want to have puppies with him, I guarantee I won’t be any happier about his adoption.”

Giving him a scathing look, Colton stalked a few paces away before he did something both impulsive and hard to forgive. He didn’t have time for this. He ducked past Gabe, heading for the driver’s side of the truck to get his clothes out from under the seat. Already the sun was beginning to light up a gray and cloudy sky. It would be dawn soon, and if Karly followed her usual habits, she’d be up and looking for ‘Puppy’—he grimaced—within the hour.

Gabe moved away from him too, obviously struggling with his own need to avoid lashing out.

“She doesn’t deserve this. She hasn’t done a damn thing wrong.” Stepping into his uniform trousers, Colton tried to keep his voice even. He pulled them up over his lean hips, adjusting himself in the crotch before zipping his fly. “Other than getting beat up and accidentally hitting me with her car—”

“Oh, that’s got nothing to do with this and you know it!” Gabe exploded. “She’s human. She’s got no loyalty here. She could talk!”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it! Karly doesn’t talk. She doesn’t talk to anyone.” Colton shoved his feet into his boots, and then smacked his own chest as he added, “She doesn’t even talk to me unless I’m shifted.”

“She’ll talk—women talk. They always do. Hollow Hills is one word to the wrong person away from starring in an episode of Mountain Monsters!”

Pulling his white tee over his head, Colton shrugged into his uniform shirt and quickly fastened up the buttons. “You want me to walk away, pretend I didn’t see this…” He shock the BOLO before shoving it into his back jeans pocket. Dressed once more, he slammed the truck door shut. “…or worse, pretend like I don’t care that she’s in trouble? If this was anyone from Hollow Hills, not a single person in this town would expect me to turn my back! Well, I’m not turning my back. She came to me; I’m keeping her.” He felt a stab of heat burn first into his gut and then rush up through him to fill all the hot corners of his face when he realized what he’d said. “Safe,” he added belatedly. “I’m keeping her safe.”

Gabe locked his gaze with Colton’s, not at all convinced. Still, he dropped his gaze first, already shaking his head in defeat. “I’ve got a description, so I’ll keep an eye out for this stranger. Whoever he is—Whitaker or a private dick—I’ll find him.”

Colton nodded once, and then turned to follow the road back to Karly’s cabin.

“Are you going to mate her?” Gabe called after him. “If you’re going to screw everything up, that’s fine. I just want to know if I should keep trying.”

Colton sighed, his eyes closing, his head rocking back on his shoulders all over again. He turned, throwing out his arms in a helpless, angry shrug. “No Alpha takes a
chelovak
,” he said, every word tasting sour in his mouth. “I’ll be on the field today and tomorrow; and the day after that, I’m going to run a Bride to ground.” That tasted every bit as sour, too. Unable to hold Gabe’s knowing eyes, Colton had to look away. “Get Marcus a bunk up at the station until he can find a place of his own. Hollow Hills is ours, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Gabe just stood there, a grown man with vibes that were bouncing wildly between angry and ‘little boy lost’. “If she leaves, you’re going to follow her, aren’t you?”

“And leave you to be Alpha?” Colton tried to joke, but the argument was too fresh, and both their feelings rubbed just a little too raw.

“That’s not what I want,” Gabe said.

No, and Colton knew that. What he didn’t know was how to soothe the wounds he’d inflicted between himself and his own second. Shaking his head, he ended up walking away, and that wasn’t the right thing to do either.

* * * * *

It rained all night long, heavy drops pitter-patting across the tin roof, dripping on it from the canopy of sheltering trees long after the rain actually stopped. Karly had to be getting used to the subtle sounds of country living. Unlike her first night when it stormed, she slept right through the worst of it without so much as a single trace of fear to taint her dreams. Other things, however, did haunt them.

She dreamt of Colton. There wasn’t much that she could remember about it once she’d awakened, but his face was right there in her mind and her nipples were peaked, her breasts swollen and heavy, aching for the hands and hot mouth that had, imaginary or not, been attentive upon them. Lying in bed, her sex pulsing molten with a level of desire she hadn’t felt in a very long time, she’d squeezed her thighs together, trying to bring back any part of what she’d dreamed, but all she could remember was some hazy sense of being covered, kissed, caressed, and Colton’s low voice whispering in her ear, “I’ll show you how an Alpha runs his bitch to ground.”

When McQueen had said that to her, it had made her skin crawl. But last night, in the fantasy of her dreams, it had felt so very different. It had been possessive, rather than dirty. Seductive rather than derogatory. The way he’d said ‘his’ had made her feel that way. Like she was his, in every way that mattered.

And now, in the brilliance of the early morning light, Karly tried to make sense of the dream, but already what tantalizing bits that she could remember were dissipating from her mind like thin tendrils of smoke on the wind. Stretching out her arm, Karly felt along the empty sheets beside her, but she already knew what to expect when she opened her eyes. Puppy was gone and, downstairs, the front door was wide open. Whoever had taught him how to open it, Karly grumbled as she crossed the living room, should also have had the decency to also teach him how to shut it. She did it for him, then went back upstairs to shower and gather her dirty laundry.

Without a washing machine and without a clue where the nearest laundromat was, she scrubbed her clothes as best she could in the bathroom sink and hung them up over the shower curtain to dry. She had just headed downstairs to start a pot of coffee brewing and was about to make breakfast when she heard the crunch of truck tires coming up the unpaved road just outside.

Her stomach gave a sickening lurch, one which eased with recognition when she ducked to look out the window and caught her first glimpse of white paint instead of red on the truck that was pulling up to her front porch. It was Colton, coming to check on her again.

Unwanted flashes of last night’s dream zipped through her mind, bringing with it a blossom of heat low down in the pit of her stomach. She wished he’d go away. She hadn’t yet fully escaped the last man she’d entertained erotic fantasies about. It unnerved her that she was already entertaining fantasies about this one.

He seemed nice enough, some tiny part of her brain pointed out.

He was also big and strong, as well as law enforcement, and that made him too dangerous to risk.

Damn, he was parking instead of turning around.

Double damn, now he was getting out.

Hunkered behind closed drapes, she peeked out through the crack in the curtains, and for a moment, found herself admiring the lazy way he had of walking, sauntering really, all long legs and lean hips, one hand rising to scratch at a corner of his sensual mouth as he climbed the three steps to her door.

Sensual mouth? Really? Karly rolled her eyes, all but groaning at herself.