Hour of the Lion, Cherise Sinclair [good story books to read TXT] 📗

should have stayed in Cold Creek, taken out the backup people, then found Swane and the business-guy and wiped them out. Then—maybe—she wouldn‘t feel so guilty. Her mouth tightened as she remembered Thorson‘s wound, the blood on the desk, his pain. God, so stupid. Why had she ever tried to escape through his store?

Too late to do anything now. The bad guys would be long gone. She‘d have to wait for Wells to give her the information on Swane she needed—and then, no matter what, she‘d finish this.

Wells. Oh fuck. She was due in Washington D.C. She felt like hitting her head against a tree.

Could her life get any more screwed up?

"We‘re almost there." Alec‘s voice reached her.

Oh, sure, and he‘d been saying that for over an hour. That fine body of his had moved steadily up the mountain—never faltering, never tripping, never falling. If she‘d had the energy, she would have planted a boot right where the sun don‘t shine.

"Ah. There we go," he said.

Concentrating on the lousy footing, she ran into his stationary figure. "Oomph."

"Sorry." He pointed to something undistinguishable in the darkness. "We‘re here."

She squinted. Nothing. "How can you tell?"

"Cat eyes, baby, cat eyes." Wrapping an arm around her waist, he urged her across a small clearing to a building.

"There is a god," she breathed, and Alec chuckled.

"Hold on a minute." He shoved open the door and went in. A lantern flickered alight.

Taking that as an invite, she pulled the door shut behind her. There was no heat, but the escape from the wind made the place seem almost warm. Teeth chattering, she looked around.

An authentic, one-room cabin with a fireplace on the far wall, wood and kindling next to it. A rough-hewn table and stump chairs on the left. Pots and pans hung from nails, and dishes were stacked on a rustic shelf. Wooden bins were built into each wall.

Alec set the lantern on the table and started building a fire. He nodded at the bin. "There‘s blankets and some sleeping pads in the box. Why don‘t you haul them out? Put them here in front of the fireplace."

Wool blankets, foam pads, quilts. By the time she‘d piled them in the center of the room, the fire blazed with enough heat to make her numbed fingers tingle.

Alec set a snow-filled pot on the grill, then rummaged through a metal-lined bin filled with canned foods and freeze-dried meals. A few minutes later, they had mugs of hot chocolate.

"Nice place," Vicki murmured, risking her lips to sip the scalding chocolate. She swallowed and closed her eyes to savor the sensation of heat bursting inside her.

Alec toasted her with his mug and a smile. "We keep it stocked for emergencies like this, and for shifters who get hurt and can‘t make it back to town."

He added another log to the fire and settled onto the pile of blankets. "Whoever uses the place reports to Calum, and he sends up whatever is needed to restock it."

"Carry supplies up that mountain?"

"That‘s why Herne invented teenagers."

She snorted a laugh and settled herself in the other blanket pile. The shivers had lessened, and she gazed sleepily around the room. "No windows?"

He shook his head. "Prevents any telltale glow at night. There‘s enough trees overhead to disperse most of the smoke, and as you saw, getting here isn‘t for the faint of heart."

"No shit." Two narrow ledges, hopping from stone to stone across creeks. "Were you following a path?"

"A variety of animal trails. We never use the same one twice, and if one starts looking too obvious, it‘s abandoned for a season or two."

"How can you tell if someone‘s used a trail recently?"

He tapped his nose. "People leave a scent."

"Even in person form, you have cat eyes and noses, huh?" She frowned remembering Jamie tripping over a bottle in the dark parking lot. "Jamie doesn‘t see well at night."

"Not yet. After her first trawsfur, she will. And as she spends time in animal form, the more she‘ll acquire animal senses." He grinned. "There are theories about why. Personally, I think we get used to seeing at night and using our noses, and our human bodies adjust."

"Huh." Her eyes drooped, and she jerked her head up as she realized she was nodding.

Alec took the cup from her hand. "Go ahead and sleep. You‘re safe now, Vixen."

Safe? The man was out of touch with reality. The world held no safety. As her eyes closed, she felt a blanket being tucked around her.

Chapter Twelve

The next day, Thorson heard footsteps approaching Calum‘s guest room—well, his room for the moment. He looked up gratefully, needing a diversion from his worries. For once, reading wasn‘t working.

"You are quite the stubborn bastard, you know," Calum remarked as he pulled a chair closer to the bed. "Why not stay in hospital? You have enough control to not trawsfur when you‘re hurting."

Thorson marked his place in the book and set it down. "Only way a hospital keeps me is if I‘m unconscious."

"If I had known what it would take, I would have arranged it," Calum said drily.

Thorson barked a laugh. "Wouldn‘t put it past you." A gust of wind hurled spatters of snow against the window, and he frowned as worry stewed in his head. The storm that had settled over the mountains yesterday showed no signs of easing. "You think they‘re okay?"

Calum followed his gaze, mirrored his frown. "Alec is strong." His words were clipped with concern.

"You‘re worried about something though."

"About your attackers. Bugger the bastards." Calum rose and paced across the room. "I had the deputy take fingerprints before disposing of the bodies. The prints didn‘t show up in the databases that Alec has, so I sent them to Tynan. His contacts can run the information through the various agencies."

"Sounds slow."

"Too slow." Calum steepled his fingers. "Victoria suggested we use her for bait—see if we could draw them in and this time, keep one alive." He frowned at Thorson. "You and Victoria are too efficient at killing."

Thorson ignored the compliment.