Page 18 of Thrown into the Mob

I stopped at the edge of the tree line.

“How do I look?” I asked.

Conrad gave me a quick glance. “Like someone who's been shot and walked some distance through the woods in pants that are too small for them.”

He was no help. “So, great.”

“The blood doesn't show through the dark shirt. Keep your arm close to your body and don't lean on anything.”

We crossed the road. The fluorescent light was brutal after the dark, and I squinted through the window. A man behind the counter was reading something on his phone, and all around him were racks of snacks and motor oil.

“Here we go.” Conrad held the door open, and the man behind the counter looked up. His face didn’t express surprise, and I suspect he was used to late-night customers and wasn’t going to ask us any questions.

“Can I use your phone? Our car broke down a few miles back.”

I almost felt the need to explain that our phones had died, but my training and instinct kicked in, and I didn’t offer any more information. The guy reached under the counter and set a cordless phone on the surface.

“Local calls only.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

As I picked up the phone, my hands shook.

“I’ll do it. I can give him the coordinates and explain what happened.” The dragon shifter reached for the phone, but I put a hand out and stopped him.

“No. He’s my Alpha and cousin.” What the heck did he think he was doing? “I’ll tell him you’re with me.”

He harrumphed. “You’re lightheaded and you’ve hardly eaten. You’ll forget what you have to tell him.”

Damn this dragon shifter telling me what to do. I glared at him, but he was so close and his freaking scent was teasing me.

“I’m grateful you got me out, but you don’t control my life.” I was hissing but trying to keep my voice down because the guy who worked here was listening.

He leaned close and placed his lips by my ear. “I’m trying to keep us alive.”

“So am I.” We glared at one another, and I turned away from the counter and punched in Flint's number from memory, because he had made every member of the family memorize his emergency line and tested us on it at random moments which I'd found annoying.

It rang twice.

“Who is this?” Flint snapped. “Is this Aldric Blain?

“It's me, Madd.”

He didn’t waste time with questions about how I was or what had happened. “Where are you?”

“Gas station on route—“ I looked at Conrad who mouthed, “Seven.”

But then he added, “Mile marker 14. Tennison’s Gas and Bait.”

I repeated the information into the phone, and by the end, I was whispering. He must have covered the phone because there were murmurings in the background, and I was pretty sure I heard Ranger growl.

“Are you hurt?”

Even though he couldn’t see me, he was perceptive and didn’t miss much, one of the reasons why he was such a good Alpha. Except for that one time with Emilio.

“It’s just a graze on my shoulder. I’m fine, and once you’re here, I’ll be even better.”

“Why don’t I believe you?”