Werewolf in the North Woods (Wild About You #2)(32)
Author: Vicki Lewis Thompson

Thankfully, Donald nodded. “Just so you two have it all worked out. Roarke’s a good guy, and I would hate to see him drained by a bloodsucker, or worse yet, be turned into one.”

“We won’t let that happen. Ready to go?”

Donald straightened his shoulders. “Let’s blow this taco stand, kid.”

“Follow me. My dogs are waiting at the foot of the stairs. And close the revolving panel after you. We need to be as secretive as possible.” She started down the narrow stairs backward, so that she could feel for each step with the toe of her hiking boot.

Donald came after her, his feet slipping on the stone. “Vampires don’t have trouble with these stairs because they can see in the dark.”

“Guess so.”

“What are your dogs’ names?”

Her brain stalled. Of course her cherished pets would have names, and she couldn’t very well call them Roarke and Aidan. Whatever lame choice she made, the Weres at the bottom of the steps would hear and probably hate whatever she picked.

No point in agonizing over it. “Spot and Rover.”

Muffled groans came from the two wolves waiting for her.

“I hear them down there.” Donald edged down the stairs on his hands and knees. “This is like those old Lassie movies, you know? Where the dog saves little Timmy who’s trapped in the well.”

“Uh-huh.” When she reached the bottom of the steps, the tunnel seemed very dark after being in Donald’s room. That might be a good thing, because she couldn’t see the look Roarke probably was giving her as he stood and shook. She took hold of his ruff. “Hey, Rover, how’re you doing, boy? Ready to lead us out of here?”

Roarke let out a martyred sigh, and despite the desperate situation they were in, Abby wanted to laugh. She didn’t, because Donald wouldn’t get the joke.

Donald reached the bottom of the stairs and fumbled around until he made contact with Aidan. “I’ve found one of your dogs. Which one is this?”

“That would be Spot.”

“He feels pretty big. How much does he weigh?”

“I, ah, haven’t taken him to the vet recently. Maybe around two twenty, two thirty.”

“They’re really serious dogs, huh?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, I’m holding on to Spot, and he’s very quiet, even when I scratch behind his ears. I don’t think he’s even wagging his tail.”

Abby doubted that Roarke or Aidan would oblige with some doggie tail wagging. “It’s the wolf part of their breeding. They’re too cool to do that.”

“I can’t feel a collar or tag, either.”

“I keep telling Grandpa Earl to put those on, but he knows they don’t like them.”

“Dogs should wear collars and tags, in case they get lost.”

“Yes, I know.” Abby tried not to be impatient. Obviously dogs that had found her locked up in Gentry’s house weren’t going to get lost. But since the whole thing was made up, it wasn’t worth pointing that out to Donald. They were legitimate comments and she had to keep up the dog charade or risk Donald finding out he was in the tunnel with two werewolves. “But since these dogs don’t have collars on, just grab Spot’s ruff and he’ll lead you toward the exit. If he stops to sniff the floor or the air, let him do that.”

“O-kay. Spot has a really nice coat.” Aidan started off towing Donald with Roarke and Abby following behind.

She wondered what Aidan and Roarke were saying to each other telepathically. No doubt they were griping about being called Spot and Rover. Maybe they would have preferred Thor and Hercules, but it was too late now.

Thinking about dog names helped keep her from giving way to panic, because this was damned scary, walking slowly through the dank tunnels. Although she’d only seen movies about night patrols during war, this felt like those moments in the film where soldiers crept along, knowing the enemy was all around them, and at any moment a flash of light would—

Aidan growled.

Abby’s knees trembled as Roarke pulled away from her and moved up beside Aidan, shouldering Donald out of the way.

Donald retreated to stand very close to Abby, and his voice shook. “What is it?”

“Don’t know.”

“They sense something they don’t like.”

“Yeah.”

She strained to see into the darkness ahead of them. A grinding, squeaking sound made her jump, and then light filtered into the tunnel from some sort of doorway. It was pale, early-morning light, and the air that blew in was scented with mint and rain.

But the door hadn’t opened by itself. Roarke and Aidan stood, shoulder to shoulder, hackles raised, growls rumbling low in their throats. Slowly they advanced, stiff-legged, heads down, ears back.

Abby followed, but a quick glance to her left told her Donald was still back there. She turned around and motioned him forward.

“Maybe we should wait,” he said.

“That’s the way out, Donald. The dogs are going to help us get through it.” She didn’t know how they’d make it, but if Roarke and Aidan were advancing, so was she.

The escape route beckoned them, but when they were almost there, a shadow moved across the opening. A wolf stood silhouetted against the early-morning light.

Donald pulled back with a moan of fright. “It’s . . . another . . . d-dog.”

Abby didn’t answer. Instead she focused all her attention on Roarke and Aidan. She could almost feel their hindquarters bunch. Snarling, they leapt in unison.

“Now!” Grabbing Donald’s arm, she hurtled after them.

Chapter 24

The first wolf was easy. Of course it was Gentry, grandstanding with that silhouette-in-the-doorway routine. But once Roarke went for his throat, Gentry backed away and let his thugs move in. Two came at Aidan from the side, and Roarke had just enough time to see his brother fend them off before two more leapt at Roarke.

He might not be able to defeat them all, but he could draw the fight away from the opening. Dodging and weaving, he managed to move the contest to the right side of the stone doorway. Aidan, obviously of the same mind, did the same with his two opponents on the left.

It was an odd place for a werewolf fight. The formal gardens in the back of the mansion were meticulously groomed, with hedges in geometrical patterns and marble statues dotting the well-tended flowerbeds. The scent of crushed flowers filled the air as Roarke struggled to hold his own and keep the wolves busy so Abby and Donald could escape.

But that struggle might be for nothing if Abby didn’t get her butt out here. Gentry was making his way back to the door, and soon he’d close it again, sealing her in. Roarke was so busy watching for Abby that one of the wolves got his teeth into Roarke’s thigh and pain shot through his leg.

Damn it, where was Abby? Then he saw her shove through the opening. She was practically dragging Donald. That little traffic cone was way more trouble than he was worth. Let him go, Abby!

Just then Gentry leaped at Abby, and Roarke pulled away from his assailants to stop him. But to Roarke’s amazement, Donald threw out an arm and blocked the wolf. Whether it was reflex or courage didn’t matter, because Donald had the element of surprise on his side. Obviously Gentry hadn’t expected any trouble from Donald and he went sprawling backward into a hedge.

Once again, Roarke had allowed himself to be bitten by one of his attackers, this time on his right hind leg. But when he saw Abby and Donald sprint for the front driveway and the waiting Town Car, he turned and threw himself into the fight in earnest. Thank God. She was getting away.

He, however, was weaker due to his wounds, and a quick check of his brother’s situation wasn’t all that encouraging, either. Aidan was a strong wolf, but so were his attackers, and there were two of them.

Roarke had even less going for him than Aidan. He’d expended most of his energy running through the forest to get there. He wondered if Gentry would allow his thugs to kill both Wallace heirs. Maybe. Gentry could always claim that the Wallace boys had put the werewolf community at serious risk and thus deserved to die.

As Roarke tried in vain to throw off his attackers, he noticed that Gentry was up and running to the driveway, too. If Abby had been on foot, Gentry would have caught her, but by now she should be in the car on her way down the drive. She might have to smash through the gate, but the Town Car was built like a tank.

But wait, why was Gentry reversing course and running back this way? The roar of a powerful V8 echoed against stone walls as the Town Car rounded the building right behind the racing wolf. If Gentry hadn’t leaped out of the way, Abby would have run him down.

And she kept coming, plowing through manicured hedges and knocking statuary right and left. The wolves working Aidan over glanced up as the car bore down on them with a redheaded maniac at the wheel. They ran, and Aidan staggered to his feet.

The car kept coming, roses and forsythia tangled in the front bumper and multiple scrapes and gashes in the glossy black hood. The rental company wasn’t going to like this. But Roarke loved it.

As his attackers bounded away, Abby and Donald each leaned over the seat and popped open the back doors. Roarke made for the right side and Aidan leaped for the left. They were both still scrambling for purchase on the leather seats when Abby took off again, the doors swinging wildly.

“Watch your tails, guys!” she called out. She yanked the steering wheel to the left as they rounded the other end of the house. The car went up on two wheels and the right door slammed shut. She made a hard right around a giant spruce and the left door banged into place.

Roarke glanced over to see how Aidan was doing. He’d braced himself against the seat in an attempt to stay as stable as possible. He had several wounds and had smeared about as much blood over the leather upholstery as Roarke had.

“Hang on!” Abby yelled. “We’re going through the gate. Donald, are you sure those air bags are deactivated?”

“Yep.”

“I hope you’re right, because here we go!” She smashed into the gate, and although the hood buckled, the gate popped open.

Donald punched a fist in the air. “Yee-haw!”

Abby swung the car out on the main road and it lumbered along as if it had at least one flat tire, maybe two.

Roarke looked at Aidan. Luckily for you, Abby’s in the insurance business.

If you think I’m putting in a claim, you took one too many blows to the head, little brother. So far as the rental company knows, this car disappeared without a trace. I’ll write them a big check, and everybody will be happy.

Roarke looked out the window for the first time and noticed which direction Abby had chosen. She was heading toward her grandfather’s place.

Hey, Aidan, we didn’t script this part.

Guess we’ll have to sit tight and trust that your girlfriend knows how to handle it.

She’s not my girlfriend.

Then she’s done a terrific imitation of your girlfriend. For God’s sake, Roarke, the two of you have risked life and limb for each other. What more evidence do you need?

Shut up, Spot.

Just try not to be a complete butthead, Rover.

Abby pulled up in front of Dooley’s General Store because she didn’t know what else to do. Yet she couldn’t let her grandfather, or Donald, for that matter, find out that she had a backseat full of werewolves. If she left them in the car, they could shift, but then they’d be nak*d, and a backseat full of nak*d guys wasn’t a whole lot easier to explain.

Maybe they’d shift and disappear into the woods, but she didn’t want that, either. They needed clothes and medical attention. No matter what Roarke said about their healing abilities, she’d feel better if she could watch over them.

She turned to Donald. “I need to let my grandfather know I’m okay. Come on in with me.” Then she turned toward Roarke and Aidan. “Both of you, stay. I’ll be right back with . . . stuff.”

Donald looked doubtful as he glanced back at Roarke and Aidan. “Are you going to just leave them here? They’re wounded and bleeding.”

“I know, and because they’re part wolf, you have to be careful with them when they’re injured. If we leave them alone to lick their wounds, they might allow us to tend them later on.”

“But—”

“I know my dogs, Donald. The kindest thing we can do at the moment is leave them to nurse their wounds. If we could provide them with a cave, they’d be that much happier.”

“If you say so. All I’ve ever had is cocker spaniels.”

“Way different.”

“Guess so.” Donald opened his door and stepped out.

Abby turned to Roarke and Aidan again and lowered her voice. “I mean it. Don’t slink off into the woods with no means of helping yourselves. I’ll get clothes for you somehow.”

She had no idea if they would go along with her plan or not, but she hoped they would. She’d rescued them, and she wanted them to stay rescued. But she had to admit the whole shape-shifting angle made things more complicated.

With one last glance at her two charges, she got out of the Town Car and walked with Donald up to the front porch of her grandfather’s store. Before she got totally in the door, Grandpa Earl met her and pulled her into a bear hug.

He put his mouth close to her ear. “I found the flash drive.”

She went still. No, this couldn’t be happening. If he’d found the flash drive, then he was in danger, too, and she couldn’t have that. Why in hell had she left it in a place where he could find it?

Her grandfather released her and bestowed a big smile on Donald. “So, who’s this?”

Donald stuck out his hand. “Donald Smurtz, Mr. Dooley. A fellow Bigfoot seeker.”

“Indeed, indeed. Well, you look as if you’ve been rode hard and put away wet, Mr. Smurtz.”

“You have no idea. Your neighbor, Cameron Gentry, kidnapped us and was trying to say we’d stolen from him. And he had these vicious dogs that attacked Abby’s dogs. She left them out in the car, but I’m worried about them.”