Untamed Hearts (BBW Biker Werewolf Romance) (3 page)

“So, this guy’s been after you for a while then?”

Claire stood, yanked the thing from her hair that held it back, and shook her hair free. Red curls cascaded over her shoulders. Gunner watched as, just as quickly, she pulled it all back again, securing it behind her head.

“About nine months. I’ve been here for...” She scowled, bent, and hoisted the duffel onto her shoulder. “Something like four months. I thought I’d lost him.”

Claire shouldered past Gunner, heading for the tiny living room. She dropped the duffel, and Gunner watched as she yanked aside a corner of the floor rug, dropped to her knees, and proceeded to pull up one of the floorboards.

“Need any help?”

“No. I got it.” Reaching between the joists, she pulled up a leather satchel. “Just need to make a withdrawal from the bank.”

She stood in front of him, face slightly flushed, breathing a little fast.

“Look, thanks for the ride. I apologize for dragging you into this, but I’ve got to get out of here. Adrian’s going to pick up my trail pretty soon, or he’s going to beat my address out of someone at the diner.” She hoisted the duffel and slung the strap over her shoulder, the satchel held in her other hand.

Panic surged through Gunner. She was headed out the door, and if he let her go, out of his life. In the few seconds it took her to reach the other side of the room, he made up his mind.

“I can take you wherever you want to go.”

She turned, eyes wide. “You’d do that? Just up and take me...somewhere?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I would.”

“Why the hell would you do that? You hardly know me.”

“True.” He took a step toward her. “But if I let you go now, I’ll never get the chance to get to know you. And...” One more step. Her scent washed over him, the sharp tang of fear the most obvious, but beneath that, flowers and spice and something deeply feminine. Something overwhelmingly like home.

“...I’m not willing to pass up that chance.”

She looked up at him, blinked, lips parted, face flushing a pretty pink. “Oh. Well...I...”

Gunner smiled. He was back, his piercing blue eyes burning with desire. 

“Just tell me one thing though.”

Claire took a deep breath, then nodded. “Okay.”

“Who’s the guy, and why’s he chasing you?”

“That’s two things...” Claire smiled, and Gunner noticed she had dimples. How had he missed those?

“He’s the son of my pack’s Alpha.” She’d gotten some of her composure back and she looked him straight in the eye.

“Why’s he chasing you?”

Claire hesitated, but her eyes never left his. Gunner waited.

“I left him at the altar.”

* * *

“H
ell, when you decide to piss someone off, you really go all out, don’t you?” Gunner shook his head, giving her a lopsided grin and a raised eyebrow. “Your Alpha must not be too happy with you either.”

Claire shifted under the weight of the duffel and under Gunner’s intense scrutiny. Personal history wasn’t something she talked about, with anyone, and she certainly hadn’t told anyone about Adrian or being a runaway bride.

Keri and Glen from the diner knew her as Jillian from the block, a good Irish girl from the other side of town. Before that, in an entirely different state, she was Lisbeth, art school dropout working at a preschool, teaching little kids how to draw while she paid off student loans. Before that...she didn’t really remember.

She shifted the duffel again. “It’s not a good situation, any way you look at it.”

This was hard. Everything inside her screamed it was insanity to trust a stranger, especially another shifter. For all she knew, Adrian could have sent him to track her down. Except the head butt at the diner sort of ruled that out. But still, she knew nothing about him.

Pushing through all that was something else, a tiny sprout of what might have been hope. That, and the feeling she might not have to do this by herself anymore. It was enough, at least for now.

“So, you said you’d take me anywhere?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He nodded, expectant, eyes like blue lasers fixed on her.

“Well, about that.”

She needed to make a decision. Trust a stranger with her life, or go back outside, alone.

“I don’t really have any place to go.”

That was the truth. She’d run before, but each time she’d had some warning, some sixth sense telling her Adrian was on her trail: the hair on the back of her neck going up for no reason, the feeling she was being watched. The feeling that told her to get out of town, no questions asked. And she’d always listened to those feelings.

This time, who knew? Maybe she’d gotten careless somehow, moved too close to home, slipped up with the name or the job. Or Adrian really was that good at tracking her down. He had a powerful pack with an influential Alpha backing him; she was out in the cold alone.

Gunner was quiet, and she figured she’d blown it. Playing the hero once, dragging her out of danger’s way, might be his limit for the day. She sighed, turned the doorknob, and stepped into the hall, dreading what might be waiting for her outside, sorry she’d misjudged the guy inside. His words pulled her back.

“I know a place.”

Now she was on the back of a roaring motorcycle, charging down some backwoods road hours from the city. He said he knew a place, but she’d assumed that place might still have been in the civilized world. Right now she thought they’d pretty much left civilization as she knew it.

They’d been riding at less than breakneck speed for a couple hours, going up and down small green hills. Then the terrain changed dramatically and the bike climbed what felt like completely vertical slopes, followed by descents that had her stomach in her throat.

The air was cool, almost cold, and she wanted her jacket but she didn’t want to ask Gunner to stop. For one thing, she thought they’d made good time, and the more distance between her and Adrian the better. But more to the point, there didn’t seem to be any place where he could stop. The road was narrow, the trees coming right to the edge of the cracked pavement.

It was almost dark when Gunner slowed down and swung the bike toward the edge of the road. For a moment, the crazy thought he’d been sent by Adrian shot through her mind again, that Gunner was going to kill her now by driving them both off the edge of a mountain.

But then she saw a narrow pea-gravel driveway in the splashing light of the bike. The track wound down, then up, beneath the canopy of pines. He stopped in a small opening, cutting the engine.

“We’re almost there.”

She climbed off and staggered a step or two as her legs remembered how to walk on solid ground. Gunner got off the bike and he went through a series of stretches, arms overhead, rolling his head from side to side, muscles rippling beneath his black t-shirt.

She’d just been tracked down by an ex-almost-husband, dragged to safety by a stranger, fled the city on a motorcycle with the same stranger, but at this moment the only thoughts she had involved what that stranger looked like.

Because right now, he looked pretty damn fine from where she stood. She’d hit it off with other guys, but the chemistry between her and Gunner was undeniable. Riding behind him for hours hadn’t hurt...or helped.

She’d pretty much mapped out the contours of his muscular stomach with her fingers under the guise of adjusting her hold on him as they skimmed over the asphalt. The way his shoulders moved, the muscles tensing and relaxing, shifting beneath her cheek as she rested her head on his back, all of it—aided by the vibration of the big machine beneath her—had awakened something long dormant inside her.

“Where’s here, and where’s almost?”

“We’re close to Clyde, and almost is a cabin.”

“Who’s Clyde?”

Gunner undid the straps holding her duffel, and she grabbed it off the back of the bike. She still carried the satchel, the long strap slung across her body. No way would she trust that to a bungee cord on the back of a bike. Clothes, shoes, even her toothbrush...all that she could do without. But the stuff in the satchel was irreplaceable.

“Not a who, a where. It’s a little town in North Carolina, and we’re outside of it by about twenty miles, on the low side of a big mountain.”

He’d done whatever he needed to do with the bike to secure it, and from nowhere a small leather backpack materialized in his hands. He hung the strap over his shoulder and motioned toward the trees.

“It’s this way, a short hike through the woods. The path is well marked. Should be pretty easy for you in those boots.”

He turned and she followed, pushing aside brush and tree limbs. If there was a path, she had no idea where it might be hiding. Gunner seemed to be carving it out as they went.

“Do you know where you’re going?” A branch slapped her face, and a bramble wound its thorny fingers around her leg.

“You bet. Been coming here, on and off, since I was a kid.” His voice came from somewhere ahead of her and she scanned the dark forest, trying to get a line on him. Everything smelled like pine and cold air.

“Hey, can you wait. I’m stuck...” She yanked at another vine and impaled herself on something sharp, causing her to yelp in pain.

“You okay?” His voice was so close it startled her. “Here...” He took her hand, guiding her back to what she guessed was the path. At least it didn’t have things that lunged out, trying to kill her.

“You’re not much of a nature girl, are you?”

He’d slowed down a little, and she could at least follow his outline moving ahead of her. It did seem to be easier walking.

“Not so much. The most I’ve ever experienced was an overgrown backyard as a kid.”

“You’ve never tracked?”

“I’ve never had to track anyone through the forest, no. Through the city, different story. Nothing can hide from me there.”

“Got it. I guess I never met a city shifter before. All my folk come from the wilderness.”

Gunner stopped suddenly, and she walked into his back. “What the hell?”

He held up a hand. “Quiet. The cabin’s just ahead.” His voice was low, just above a growl.

She stood motionless, every sense coming alive. Gunner was just as still, and she thought, given his body language, he was sniffing the air. A sour wave of fear ran through her and she tensed behind him. A long moment later, he spoke.

“It’s okay.” He stepped forward, his body relaxing. “There’s a trailhead not far down the hill, and sometimes hikers get lost and end up here. I’ve found them sleeping under the overhang on the downhill side. Might have been the scent I caught.”

“You’re sure? It’s not...”

“No. It’s human, not shifter. And days old.”

They walked down a short path through an open clearing. A small building stood, its outline visible against the night sky. She could smell now what must have alerted Gunner, the faintest of human scent, just one person.

“Wait here.” He moved away and she heard metal on metal, then the creak of a door opening. Yellow light spilled down the path, momentarily blinding her.

“Come on up.”

Gunner stood in the open doorway and she climbed the short flight of wooden steps, stepping past him. The cabin was small but clean and extremely neat. Nothing seemed out of place and there was no clutter to be seen. Claire wondered if there was a woman’s touch involved here but decided it was too spartan.

“Is this your cabin?” She set her duffel on the floor.

“It’s been in the family for a couple generations. There was a long-ago great-grandfather who grew up in the area, built this, and lived here till he died. It got passed down from father to son, until me.” Gunner dropped his eyes and rubbed a finger along the bridge of his nose.

“And you’re the last of the line?”

Gunner glanced up, giving her a rueful smile. “Yeah, sort of. I guess I’m what you call a lone wolf. Kind of funny, considering how much we’re supposed to be pack animals.”

Claire walked to the other side of the cabin, to a big window that, she supposed, during the day looked out over a meadow. Right now the dark glass reflected back her image: tangled hair, drawn face...and fear.

“Thanks for...well, thanks for this.” She turned, spreading her hands. The gesture felt inadequate somehow. He’d done far more than just give her a roof for the night. “I mean, you’re taking a big chance just being with me, much less grabbing me practically right out of Adrian’s hands.”

Gunner had taken up a position in the small kitchen, opening cabinets, wielding a can opener, and making noises that sounded like the possibility of dinner. In response, her stomach growled. Gunner cast her a sidelong look, one corner of his mouth lifting in a grin.

“You hungry? There’s nothing fresh, just canned goods. I’m not the best in the kitchen, but I can put something together.”

“Yeah, anything is fine, warm or not. I’m starving.”

He tipped his head toward another door down a short hall. “If you want to clean up...take a shower.”

“Yeah. I’m a little...windblown.” She grabbed her duffel.

His laugh followed her into the bathroom, cutting off as she closed the door. She cringed after a glance in the mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face covered in a layer of road dust. Plus she smelled of sweat...and fear. Not the most alluring of scents.

Despite the small size, the bathroom had a large shower. The water was hot, and she stripped off her clothes and was under the shower in seconds, letting the water stream through her hair and over her shoulders. A bottle of generic shampoo and body wash rested on a shelf, and she used lavish amounts.
Overcompensating
, she thought, trying too hard to wash away the residue of Adrian more than the dust and grime from the road.

Before she completely used all the hot water, she reluctantly turned it off, dried, and put on a fresh set of clothes from her duffel.

There wasn’t much she could do with her hair, so she settled for a quick comb, then just let it hang down her back. It would revolt, rising up in a curly mess, but life on the run meant unruly hair.

“You’re just in time.” Gunner pointed to the table. “Have a seat. This is the best I could do.”

He set a plate in front of her. She blinked. “Tuna salad? It looks...and smells amazing.” She picked up a fork, took a tentative bite. And then dug in with serious intent.