Full Blooded (Page 52)

“Jess, you have to get out of here,” Tyler pleaded. “We’re in the middle of a war—and you’re their prize. You have to go right now, even if your only option is to go with the … goddamn cat.” His face held revulsion, but I knew if his Alpha had already sanctioned it, he would go along with the program.

Dammit. “Tyler, I don’t want to go, I want to stay and fight. My place is here fighting alongside my Pack, not being protected like some breakable object.”

The U-Haul doors sprang open and a half dozen unfamiliar wolves in human form touched the ground running. No time to think about formulating a plan, they would be on us in two seconds.

Tyler whipped me behind him, pushing me inadvertently toward Rourke as he went, yelling, “Go! Just get out of here while you still can.”

“No, I want to fight. Let me help you,” I cried. “I can fight!”

“No!” No. He flipped to my mind. Jessica, please, you can’t do this. I can’t protect you and fight at the same time. You’re not trained for combat yet. You’re putting us both in danger by staying here.

“I can’t leave you. I’m not going to leave you here alone.” I’m not going to f**king leave, do you hear me?

Tyler ignored me as his gaze shot to Rourke. “Get her out of here, cat. There’s no one left but you. But if you lay one hand on her, I swear I will rip you apart with my bare hands. Do you hear me? I vow it on my life.” Tyler looked back at me. “That’s an order, Jess. Now go!”

The motorcycle revved in response, tires screeching behind me. But before Rourke could make a move, I tore out of Tyler’s grasp, pulling both throwing knives from my sleeves at the same moment.

My body bent forward, and without any hesitation I launched them straight into the two wolves in the lead barreling down on us. One landed with a thunk in the fleshy part of the trachea, hitting home, and the wolf went down with satisfaction. The other missed its mark entirely, embedding itself without harm in his shoulder. It didn’t do anything close to dropping him; it only pissed him off more. He stopped and yanked it out, snarling at me as he did it.

It’s on now. My wolf howled.

Tyler sprang forward with no other choice to tackle the next two. I crouched in a fighting stance, muscles rippling under my skin—finally—pulling, shifting, readying me for the fight. The angry wolf I’d hit in the shoulder was almost to me, and when his filthy hands reached for my throat, he was going down. My eyes were trained on him like lasers. He thought I was weak.

He thought wrong.

But before he could reach me my body flew backward.

My attacker bellowed his rage.

What the hell? The road was moving beneath me, Rourke’s arm locked firmly around my middle, my ass barely on the edge of the seat.

“Get on the goddamn bike!” Rourke yelled.

I didn’t have time to protest. In the next moment we hit the curb, the bike flying upward toward the sky. On the way down, I shot my leg over the seat and grabbed on to Rourke’s jacket with everything I had. We cleared the embankment at the top, crashing through the rusty fence like it wasn’t even there. The bike plunged nose first down the grassy slope leading to the tracks at top speed, each bump on the ground like a giant mountain crashing up to greet us.

Rourke maneuvered the bike from side to side like a slalom course, pulling us parallel at the last minute before we hit the concrete at the bottom. Coming onto the ground at the right angle lessened the blow, but it left us reeling nonetheless. The shocks groaned and crunched, but they held, keeping us upright for the most part.

As we bounded onto the concrete of the culvert floor, I pried my eyes open and screamed, “Sonofabitch, Rourke. If I wanted to die, I could’ve just stayed and fought!”

He wrenched the bike hard to the right, all his muscles contracting at once underneath his jacket. Power emanated from him as his boot came off the pedal, stabilizing us, sending sparks up from his skid pads. When we were finally fully upright he called over his shoulder, “We’re not dead yet, sweetheart.”

“Smartass,” I yelled back. Over my shoulder, two wolves, still in human form, were scrambling onto the tracks. A third made his way down the embankment behind them. Relief flooded through me, because if they were after me, that meant they’d abandoned Tyler. “Rourke, they’re coming after us. I hope you have a plan.”

I reached out to my brother. Ty, are you okay? Can you hear me?

There was a familiar brush. Jess … fighting … can’t hear you. Be safe … The connection died.

We must not be able to hold a conversation and fight at the same time. It made sense, because fighting used a lot of brain-power. My father hadn’t reached out to me either, which meant he must be equally engaged. Maybe that was the reason I’d been able to cut them off when I was fighting. I couldn’t manage both at the same time.

The wolves behind us dropped to the ground to shift. Once they were finished they’d be crazy fast. And they’d have our fresh scent.

“They’re changing on the tracks,” I yelled to Rourke. “This place is going to be full of wolves in about three minutes.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re getting off here,” Rourke shouted back as he turned the handlebars hard, tearing up a small grassy hill. The sides of the culvert had tapered off along the way, making it possible to escape. The bike bounded over the top, crashing through another fence, and then we were back on the road, the tires squealing as Rourke twisted us in front of a highway underpass. One more quick turn and we were wheeling up a ramp.

Three wolves in their true form, two in the front and one trailing, ran behind us full tilt, but they’d have to abandon the chase at the highway. Wolves on the road wouldn’t work. But it didn’t matter. They had our scents. Their buddies in the U-Haul would pick them up in a few minutes.

Unless Rourke had an unbelievable plan, we would be running from them indefinitely. A weirdly pungent female and a one-of-a-kind cat on the back of an open motorcycle meant we were going to be easy to track.

I relaxed my death grip on Rourke as we flattened out on the freeway. I likely wouldn’t die if I was tossed from the bike. I was used to being human and it was going to take me some time to stop reacting like one.

Rourke had no such issues, clearly.

My hand dipped into my suit jacket pocket as Rourke weaved expertly in and out of traffic. The smooth panic button brushed against my fingertips. I rubbed it a few times for luck. Then I depressed it. It wasn’t going to help me now, but it felt good to hold it in my hand. “Nick, I’m going to need a pickup soon,” I said into the open air as it blasted by my helmetless face.