Target (Page 12)

Get them! Ashe said to whoever was listening. I’ve got Wynn, she’s been hit, he repeated. Rising high overhead, Ashe watched as a storm hit the men below. Dalroy and Rhett had arrived, prepared to take down the hunters. Ashe had never seen vampires work like this—a whirlwind of dust was raised as men were pulled from saddles and knocked unconscious. Horses galloped away, frightened by the chaos. Ashe knew he didn’t have time to worry about any of that; he had to get help for Wynn. He raced toward the vans on the western side of the game preserve.

"Ashe!" Sali was shouting and struggling against Marco’s grip while Marco held his younger brother back. Marcus took Wynn from Ashe, who’d reappeared, Wynn in human form wrapped in his arms.

"It’s just a shoulder wound," Marcus reassured Sali, who was trembling after Marco released him. Marco grabbed Ashe’s clothing and handed it to him while Wynn was laid gently in the back of a van.

"Don’t worry, we’ll take care of this," werewolf David Lang had come, armed with medical supplies. Wynn was weeping and shivering while Marcus covered her with a blanket and David gave an injection.

"It’ll be better if she’s calm," he said to Sali, who was struggling in his brother’s grip again as he tried to reach Wynn.

"Wynn, it’s all right," Sali called, holding out a hand toward her. "We’ve got you, it’ll be all right." Another of the werewolves who stayed behind was calling Wynn’s father, Jonas O’Neill, on a cell phone.

"We’ve got her. She’s wounded but it’s superficial, I think. Dr. Lang is tending her now." Ashe was still watching David Lang work on Wynn as he pulled his athletic shoes on.

"She’ll be all right," Marcus placed a hand on Ashe’s shoulder. "How was the fight going when you left?"

"Good, I think," Ashe said absently as he watched Dr. Lang slip an IV into Wynn’s hand. Someone else was there, holding up the bag of IV fluid while the wound was cleaned and bandaged. Wynn, lying in the back of the van while she received treatment, moaned softly now and then, but Ashe felt sure that Dr. Lang had given her something for pain already.

"A bad graze and some superficial wounds on her hips," Dr. Lang said as Ashe crowded close to Sali behind the van.

"I thought you were a paramedic," Ashe said.

"I work as a paramedic, Son. I’m more than a hundred years old. Got my medical license more than fifty years ago. I know what I’m doing. Now, what about you? Got the shakes?"

Ashe was a little shaky but didn’t want to admit it. "I’ll be okay," he said, watching Sali crawl into the van beside Wynn.

"Sali?" Wynn’s voice was weak.

"Wynn, we’ll take care of you, I promise," Sali whispered. Ashe heard it clearly. He also saw Wynn grip Sali’s hand. Ashe knew he shouldn’t have been shocked to see Sali lift the hand and kiss it. An unexpected wave of jealousy hit Ashe, and he struggled with that as he watched Sali comfort Wynn.

"If you need something, even to sleep, let Winkler or me know," Dr. Lang said, patting Ashe’s shoulder and bringing his attention back to the doctor. "That was good work, young man."

Ashe nodded and walked to the back of the van, where Sali still held Wynn’s hand. "You okay, Wynn?" he asked hoarsely. He’d been frightened out of his wits when the gun had cracked and Wynn had fallen. Now he wanted to be the one holding Wynn’s hand.

"I’ll be okay," Wynn sighed and closed her eyes.

"Look what we have here," Marcus grinned. Ashe whirled to see Winkler, his six werewolves and the two vampires bringing nine of the ten men out of the game preserve. All were handcuffed in silver chains. One of the men, the one with the bushy mustache, bore wounds across his face where Ashe had hit him. Ashe worried that the man who’d been shot now lay dead in the desert. He shuddered.

"Ashe, what can you tell me about these men?" Winkler asked.

"He’s the one who shot Wynn," Ashe pointed to the one with the mustache, "but that was after I took that one’s rifle away; he was going to shoot Wynn first," Ashe nodded at the other man.

"Congressman Howard, what do you have to say to that?" Winkler grinned. Ashe gaped. Congressman Howard? He knew that name, all right.

"Your son is fine and we have the culprits in custody. The rest of the Lubbock Pack is scouring the compound. Matt Michaels is on his way, and he’ll shut the preserve down as soon as he gets here. They’ll go over it with a fine toothed comb for evidence, too," Winkler informed Aedan over the phone. "Wynn was grazed by a rifle bullet, but thanks to Ashe’s quick thinking, it wasn’t any worse than that. What we haven’t figured out is what to do with the esteemed congressman."

"He needs to rot in jail," Aedan hissed. Ashe, who sat on a chair inside Winkler’s hotel room, listened to his father on the other end of the call.

"I think he deserves worse. Who knows who or what he’s killed before? Dalroy and Rhett are attempting to get information from Tanner. What we learn may not be comforting by any stretch," Winkler observed.

"Let me talk to Ashe if he’s there," Aedan sighed.

"He’s here," Winkler said and handed the phone to Ashe.

"Dad?" Ashe didn’t know what his father was going to say or do.

"Son, are you all right? Did they hurt you in any way?"

"They didn’t have a chance. I do want to talk to you when I get home, though."

"About what?"

"About how I came out of my mist partially, to hit that man in the face. The one who shot Wynn," Ashe clarified.

"Son, if my heart were beating, it would have stopped just then. You became partially corporeal?"

"My hands," Ashe admitted sheepishly. "I wasn’t thinking clearly, Dad. All I saw was the man shooting and Wynn falling. I was so mad I just did it."

"I’m not quibbling over the results of your actions, but that might have placed your life in just as much danger as Wynn’s. Did they see your face?"

"Not until Winkler and the others brought them in. I pointed out which ones were the shooters."

Aedan Evans uttered a word Ashe didn’t hear often. "Son, I know you aren’t used to this sort of thing, but tell Mr. Winkler, if he’s not listening in right now, to have those vampires place compulsion. I don’t want any of those involved remembering what you look like or how you did what you did."

"I’ll make sure it’s done," Winkler said. He was listening.

"Good. I don’t want my boy made more of a target than he is already."

"I understand," Winkler replied.

"Dad, tell Mom I’m okay," Ashe said.