After just a moment of searching, he had the bloody bullet gripped in his fingers.
Jade swallowed. “I’m guessing that means you aren’t in shock.”
He rolled down his window and tossed out the bullet.
“Okay then . . .” Now wasn’t the moment to gripe at the guy for littering. Blood prioritized right then. She turned her attention to the road. Sirens were screeching on the next block, and there had to be some folks from that crowd who would be sober enough to provide descriptions of the shooters—and of Az. Her foot pressed down on the accelerator. Nice and slow. All of the glass had busted out of the back side window, so if anyone looked at it, they’d just think the window was rolled down. They wouldn’t realize she’d done a smash-and-grab.
As long as she played it cool, she had this.
Then he appeared.
Brandt walked out of the darkness. Tall. Muscled. A walking, talking fantasy. No. Not a fantasy, a nightmare.
How could someone so handsome be so fucking crazy?
He crossed his arms over his chest. Stood in the middle of the road.
Waited.
She slammed on the brakes.
“Who is he?”
Ah, now, finally, Az spoke. Jade’s fingers whitened around the steering wheel. “A dead man.” She shoved her foot down on the accelerator as far as it would go. Dead.
The BMW lurched forward. The scent of burning rubber filled her nose. Fast, faster . . .
The motor snarled.
Brandt cocked his head and grinned at her.
Did he think she was playing chicken? After the hell he’d put her through? She wasn’t going to swerve away from him.
The collision wouldn’t kill him. The guy was too strong for that. But she wanted him to hurt.
Wait. Dammit. Was she really becoming just like him?
No. Won’t be. Can’t be.
Brandt leapt away just as she swerved.
Her heart slammed in her ears, and the rough drumming was so wild that it shook her chest. She spun around the approaching curve too fast, and the car lurched on two tires.
Swearing, Jade jerked the steering wheel and barely managed to keep the car steady. Risking a quick glance back, she saw that Brandt had picked himself off the pavement. He was staring after her.
And the tough shifter wasn’t smiling anymore.
The accelerator was already flat on the floor. Time to get the hell out of that city.
Good thing she’d already scoped out the area and come up with a backup plan. She did that whenever she was in a new city. For those instances— like this one —when she needed to run fast and seek cover.
Az reached for her hand. His blood coated her fingertips. “Who was he?” Anger—no, more like rage—thickened beneath his words.
But she’d put a target on the guy’s back, so he deserved the truth and his rage. “Brandt Dupre.” A brief pause. “He runs the most powerful panther shifter pack in the South-east.” Hell, probably the whole U.S. “He’s vicious, smart, and he loves to make his prey suffer.”
Az didn’t let her go, and she could feel the weight of his stare on her.
They swept past the tall tombs of the cemetery. The heavy monuments rose over the old wall, dark, cold.
“Who is he . . .” Az asked, then pushed, “to you?”
“He’s the man who took my life away.” Everything she’d had. Everything she’d been. “And he’s the asshole who’s hunting me now. Brandt isn’t ever going to stop. He’s going to keep coming, keep attacking until I’m dead—”
“Or until he is.” Flat, final words.
Her gaze flew to him.
Az’s skin wasn’t even pale. He’d taken bullets, lost a ton of blood, and he sat there, eyes glittering with intensity and dark determination carved onto his face.
“This isn’t your fight,” she told him, her voice quiet but firm. “You can’t understand . . . you have no idea what they’re like.” He might think he knew about the paranormals out there, but Brandt’s pack was different. Savage. She’d never encountered anyone else like them.
Her gaze darted back to the road. The interstate
Jade swallowed. “I’m guessing that means you aren’t in shock.”
He rolled down his window and tossed out the bullet.
“Okay then . . .” Now wasn’t the moment to gripe at the guy for littering. Blood prioritized right then. She turned her attention to the road. Sirens were screeching on the next block, and there had to be some folks from that crowd who would be sober enough to provide descriptions of the shooters—and of Az. Her foot pressed down on the accelerator. Nice and slow. All of the glass had busted out of the back side window, so if anyone looked at it, they’d just think the window was rolled down. They wouldn’t realize she’d done a smash-and-grab.
As long as she played it cool, she had this.
Then he appeared.
Brandt walked out of the darkness. Tall. Muscled. A walking, talking fantasy. No. Not a fantasy, a nightmare.
How could someone so handsome be so fucking crazy?
He crossed his arms over his chest. Stood in the middle of the road.
Waited.
She slammed on the brakes.
“Who is he?”
Ah, now, finally, Az spoke. Jade’s fingers whitened around the steering wheel. “A dead man.” She shoved her foot down on the accelerator as far as it would go. Dead.
The BMW lurched forward. The scent of burning rubber filled her nose. Fast, faster . . .
The motor snarled.
Brandt cocked his head and grinned at her.
Did he think she was playing chicken? After the hell he’d put her through? She wasn’t going to swerve away from him.
The collision wouldn’t kill him. The guy was too strong for that. But she wanted him to hurt.
Wait. Dammit. Was she really becoming just like him?
No. Won’t be. Can’t be.
Brandt leapt away just as she swerved.
Her heart slammed in her ears, and the rough drumming was so wild that it shook her chest. She spun around the approaching curve too fast, and the car lurched on two tires.
Swearing, Jade jerked the steering wheel and barely managed to keep the car steady. Risking a quick glance back, she saw that Brandt had picked himself off the pavement. He was staring after her.
And the tough shifter wasn’t smiling anymore.
The accelerator was already flat on the floor. Time to get the hell out of that city.
Good thing she’d already scoped out the area and come up with a backup plan. She did that whenever she was in a new city. For those instances— like this one —when she needed to run fast and seek cover.
Az reached for her hand. His blood coated her fingertips. “Who was he?” Anger—no, more like rage—thickened beneath his words.
But she’d put a target on the guy’s back, so he deserved the truth and his rage. “Brandt Dupre.” A brief pause. “He runs the most powerful panther shifter pack in the South-east.” Hell, probably the whole U.S. “He’s vicious, smart, and he loves to make his prey suffer.”
Az didn’t let her go, and she could feel the weight of his stare on her.
They swept past the tall tombs of the cemetery. The heavy monuments rose over the old wall, dark, cold.
“Who is he . . .” Az asked, then pushed, “to you?”
“He’s the man who took my life away.” Everything she’d had. Everything she’d been. “And he’s the asshole who’s hunting me now. Brandt isn’t ever going to stop. He’s going to keep coming, keep attacking until I’m dead—”
“Or until he is.” Flat, final words.
Her gaze flew to him.
Az’s skin wasn’t even pale. He’d taken bullets, lost a ton of blood, and he sat there, eyes glittering with intensity and dark determination carved onto his face.
“This isn’t your fight,” she told him, her voice quiet but firm. “You can’t understand . . . you have no idea what they’re like.” He might think he knew about the paranormals out there, but Brandt’s pack was different. Savage. She’d never encountered anyone else like them.
Her gaze darted back to the road. The interstate
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