Page 30

He knows I’ve seen him.

I break into a run, throwing myself forward. His steps pound behind me, nearing rapidly. I tuck my head down, sucking in air, lungs and thighs already burning. Long days at the bakery gave me strong arms and sturdy legs, but those were marathons, not sprints. My endurance doesn’t help me here in a time when I need speed.

His breath rasps practically at the back of my neck. My vision narrows down to the street ahead of me, seemingly endless, devoid of anyone or anything that could help me.

Fuck me! Fuck!

I spin around, stumbling, almost falling. The stalker skids in surprise as his outstretched hands grab at thin, damp air. I don’t think. I kick out, getting him on the knee. The thud of impact reverberates all the way up my leg.

He yells out and bends over to clutch his kneecap. My foot throbbing, I whirl away to continue running, but a hand around my ankle brings me down to the ground. The rough road scrapes my palms, blood springing hot and wet on my skin. I gasp and twist over onto my back as the stalker comes down upon me.

And then he’s not there anymore.

He’s the one on his back on the ground. He’s not alone. A large figure gleaming with leather straddles him. Snarling, the biker raises his fist and lets it fall like a comet on the stalker’s face. The sound makes me whimper, a visceral blend of thump and crunch and splash. Dark droplets flick into the air.

The stalker gargles, chokes out a cry. A large hand splayed out on his chest keeps him in place even as he struggles. The fist rebounds into the air, comes back down, shoving the stalker’s face into the concrete.

“Fucker! Teach you to mess with a woman, you goddamn fuck!” Another strike. The stalker stops moving.

“Wolf?” I blink and the raging figure resolves into the man I knew and loved once, loved to the point where I allowed his child to grow inside me because it was all I had left of him.

Wolf doesn’t see me or hear me. He’s lost, fury glazed over his vision. Both fists move now, slamming down on the stalker’s face, shoulders, and chest. He surges to his feet and kicks the sprawled figure in the ribs. He yanks his foot back for another.

“Wolf, stop! Stop, don’t kill him!” I’m on my feet without knowing how I got there. I run to him and wrap my arms around him. My bloody palms smear over his leather vest. I press my head against him, burying my face in his tensing arm. “You’ll go back to prison if you kill him!”

Wolf’s fist thumps down on the stalker’s chest again and the sound is like a bass drum, the deepest reverberation. It makes me cringe, but I keep holding on to Wolf as hard as I can.

The sound of striking doesn’t come again.

Slowly, I raise my head.

Wolf looks down at me, his hair a wild mane, eyes black in a face gone stark red. His jaw is clenched, his teeth bared. All the bones and tendons in his face and neck stand out prominently. With his squared shoulders and arched back and tensing muscles, he looks like a wild thing, an animal sent into a frenzy to protect what he sees as his. In this moment, that’s me.

And it doesn’t feel wrong. It doesn’t feel like something I want to reject. Instead, I welcome it, let it flow into me, burn my veins and ignite my loins. I can’t help it. I can’t help being amazed, honored, flattered, and turned on by the fact that I have the power to make him act in such a way. This wildness, the urge to harm, it springs from what he feels for me.

That power frightens me. I didn’t ask for it and I definitely don’t need it, not now when things are so complicated. But I welcome it anyway, because it’s here and it’s not going anywhere, is it?

I reach out to touch him and suddenly his lips are on mine, his mouth shoving, claiming, promising things that shouldn’t be promised. My whole body shudders with the delicious heat and I try to kiss him back, but he’s already withdrawing. He backs off of the stalker, hauls me to my feet and pushes me a couple yards away, and then takes out his phone.

Time for damage control, I guess.

Chapter 13

Wolf

The fucker’s lucky to still have a pulse.

He doesn’t deserve to be lucky. He deserves to be snuffed out and thrown off a bridge somewhere so the fish can eat him and shit him out. Let him decay until he’s nothing but dull brown bones buried in the silt, forgotten.

But no, I don’t get to do any of that. I don’t get to smash him to bits and hear him choke on his own blood. I don’t get to do that because of Julia. Because she’s right, that it probably wouldn’t go as smooth as that. I’d probably go to prison again and they wouldn’t be letting me out this time.

So after I confirm the fucker still has a pulse and call Steel and Edge, I also call up the guy who was watching Ruby’s house tonight. Tracker’s still working on getting some techy security measures in place, which means we’re still operating the old-fashioned way. I think the old-fashioned way should be the only way, but I guess it doesn’t hurt to have a few different methods in place.

I’m pleased we had someone watching her house. That’s how we knew she was out. The prospect watching the house called me and I decided to follow at a discreet distance. That’s how I saw she was being followed. I’m lucky I got there when I did or things could have turned out way differently.

Roaring motorcycles approach, Steel on his enormous ride and Edge on his chrome beast. They jump off and approach, and I tell them what happened in a little more detail than before. I keep Julia back while they inspect the guy and confirm for themselves that he’s not dead.

“He needs a hospital,” Julia says.