Gone With the Wolf by Kristin Miller

exchanged words, though Emelia’s ears still rang from the shot.
    This couldn’t be happening. Emelia was dreaming. She was in her apartment, warm in bed, having a nightmare. That was it. Had to be. Things like this didn’t happen. In movies like The Avengers , maybe, but not in real life. Feeling woozy, Emelia placed a hand on her heart—it raced like a rabbit’s, thumping wildly against her hand. Her chest was tight, her breathing shallow. She was going to hyperventilate if she didn’t calm down, but how could she after what just happened?
    Drake was beside her in a flash, kneeling outside the driver’s door. When had she opened it?
    “Are you all right?” He put a chilly, wet hand to her forehead. “You feel cold.”
    “Of course I’m cold, I’ve been in the rain.”
    “Oh, good,” he said, as his shoulders lost their tension. “If you’re well enough to have an attitude, you’re going to be fine.”
    Emelia laid her head back on the headrest and tried to calm herself. Blood rushed through her veins; her heart thumped in her ears. That biker dude was probably dead in the middle of the street and Drake was…what? A hero? An accomplice to murder? “What happened to him? To the biker dude?” Pointing, Emelia tried to rise up, but Drake held her against the seat.
    “Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. Just leave it to me,” he said, though she didn’t believe him. No way. Didn’t he witness what just happened? “Mr. Bloomfield is taking care of everything now. There’s nothing to worry about.”
    “Nothing to worry about?” she screeched. “Are you insane?”
    “I just need to get out of here before the cops show up, and then I’ll explain.” His words came out flat and emotionless, like he’d dodged the cops a thousand times before. He slid an arm beneath Emelia’s legs, swiveling her body so that her feet touched the ground. Her skin tingled beneath her soaked jeans. “Come on, let me give you a ride home.”
    “But my car…I can’t just leave it here.” Her world swirled, in and out, in and out, fuzzing when she focused on slowing things down. “And why would we run from the cops? We didn’t do anything wrong. That guy tried to kill me. You and Mr. Bloomfield saw it…didn’t you?” She braced the steering wheel. “God, I’m so dizzy. I think I’m going to pass out.”
    “You’re having a panic attack. You need to close your eyes and calm down.” His fingers curled possessively around Emelia’s arm. As though he’d toss her over his shoulder and carry her out of the car if she refused to leave. “I’ll take care of everything, but I need you to trust me.”
    A dark, shadowed figure appeared at Drake’s side, tapped him on the shoulder, and handed him something. Yup, that was Mr. Bloomfield all right. Short, stocky, and stinking of Old Spice.
    “I don’t, Drake. I don’t trust you at all.” Emelia closed her eyes anyway as something bit her backside, just below her hip. Her skin warmed, burning where she’d felt the sting. “Oww! That burns! Was that a wasp?”
    “Sleep, Emelia.” Tender fingers, much too tender to be Drake’s, brushed sopping tendrils of hair out of her face. “We’ll work on the trust when you wake up.”
    …
    “She’s going to hate me for drugging her.” Drake tugged the sheets to cover Emelia’s exposed shoulder. “And she’ll have every right.”
    “You could’ve let her see the cleanup,” Raul said. “It took two seconds to drag him to the trunk of the limo, and Ms. Hudson wouldn’t have gotten close enough to the body to see anything anyway.”
    “He’d already begun the transformation when you tranquilized him, and Emelia’s much too observant.” Drake lowered his voice so he wouldn’t wake her. “She would’ve asked questions I’m not willing to answer. There was no other choice.”
    “Then I’m glad I brought extra tranquilizer darts with me. I must admit, sir,” Raul said, “I’ve never seen you hold