Desert Wolf

“It’s a viable theory, right? That rogue might be waylaying Weres before they can reach us.”

“You’re suggesting this rogue might be eating a werewolf or two for supper, as well as cattle, and that’s why the bones in that campfire belong to a human? Because a Were’s bones would look human if it wasn’t furred-up at the time of its death?” A look of utter disgust crossed Shirleen’s face.

“Either that, or our elusive bastard nabbed a hiker. I guess the bones will tell us if I’m right, if the right person looks at them. Did you move those bones?”

“Ben took them.”

“Good. Ben should be able confirm if my suspicions are viable. It’s handy to have a vet around.”

“What are you going to do, boss?”

Grant eyed Shirleen thoughtfully. “I’ll have to see to it that Hall’s daughter doesn’t stay too long or get too nosy.”

“I meant about tonight and cleaning up the town.”

Grant’s gaze moved to the truck, and he wished he could avoid Shirleen’s question. Strange sensations ruffled inside his chest. He’d felt this same kind of sensation only once before, and that was the first time he’d seen Paxton Hall.

What did those strange sensations mean now?

Hell. Could Paxton be in trouble?

Handing the box to Shirleen, Grant strode to the door. “Take these to Desperado for me. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Make sure things are closed up tight. Guard the place.”

He had smelled trouble the minute his boots hit the dirt. Trouble resonated in his bones, and he knew why. Christ, yes. He knew why.

Paxton Hall’s connection to him was strong enough to enable him to almost see her. That’s the way wolf to wolf communication went. Because of their attraction, a special bond had been forged. They seemed to be linked together by invisible chains that were proving to be stronger than the usual male-female kind of animal attraction. How else could he know what Paxton was feeling right that minute?

Bonds. Wolf to wolf chains binding us together...

Grant now began to fear he might have inadvertently imprinted with Paxton, settling into place an attachment that couldn’t be broken by either party, no matter how hard they might try. Imprinting brought a whole new meaning to the phrase until death do us part and upped the degree of attraction to full-on hunger. Mental and carnal hunger.

He hungered for her that minute.

Damn it all to hell, he wanted to shout. Through that connection to her, he knew that Paxton had not stayed at the motel. Contrary to his warnings, she was out there somewhere in the dark, along with a madman, a bad wolf with a taste for cattle, humans and maybe other Weres. A beast that hunted for sport and ate its prey.

Deep in his mind, the sound of Paxton’s startled cry echoed. His heart began to race, as if matching hers, beat for thrashing beat.

“Okay,” Shirleen called out as Grant jumped into his truck. “We’ll take care of things here.”

With blood pounding in his ears and the back of his neck chilling up, Grant was beyond caring about Desperado. He had to get to her. To Paxton. That’s the way imprinting worked. There was no other option. No way to avoid her call.

With his boot to the pedal and his lips moving with a litany of unuttered curses, Grant headed at breakneck speed back toward the city.

* * *

Paxton hit the highway with relief and with her heart hammering. Her knuckles were white from her grip on the steering wheel, and she kept repeating out loud how sorry she was that she had left the motel.

Though the highway was pretty much deserted, two cars heading in the opposite direction passed, and Paxton was finally able to take a deep breath. Cars meant the city wasn’t far off. But as their headlight beams bounced off the sizable dent in the hood of the station wagon, she rang up the cost of the repairs she was going to have to pay for. Worse yet, she’d have to try to explain what had caused it.

She had to be right about the bear.

Skin tingling with remnants of leftover adrenaline, Paxton kept her attention glued to the road as the speedometer inched upward. Lightheaded from lack of sleep and from being scared half out of her wits, she spoke again out loud to cover the sound of her heartbeats.

“If I didn’t actually want to think more of you, I might start to believe you set this up on purpose, Dad. So, what’s this deal you made with Grant Wade going to turn out to be?”

When a voice replied to her question, she nearly spun the car off the road. But the voice was inside her mind, and likely a remembered thought in one word. Stay.

Grant Wade had asked her to stay. Given that he might be hiding something from her, why would he have then issued an invitation to go there tomorrow and then advised her not to visit Desperado?

“Which is it, Wade? Stay or go?”

Her fear was just beginning to evaporate when she noticed a set of headlights behind her, closing in fast. Turning the wheel, Paxton hugged the right side of the road to allow the car to pass. Instead of doing so, it pulled up alongside and stayed there long enough for her to get a clear picture of the man inside that blue truck.

Grant.

Satisfied that she’d seen him, he backed off the pedal. The truck pulled in behind her, as if the man driving it knew what she had been through and was extending his job description to encompass the term bodyguard.

Swear to God though, Paxton was glad to see him.

The café where they’d shared their late-afternoon meal was the first building she saw. She pulled into the lot and turned off the engine. Grant was beside her in a flash and opening the door. Concern darkened his handsome face as he leaned in.

“What happened?”

“Bear. I think a bear jumped on the car.”

He hadn’t looked at the dent in the hood or the one that had to be on the roof. Grant Wade’s focus was on her.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Paxton heaved a sigh. Having this man here with her made her feel safe. She didn’t recall ever having felt completely safe before.

“I’m fine,” she lied, not quite sure her legs would hold her up if she got out of the car. “Just scared.”

“Coffee?” he suggested.

“So you can scold me in public for driving into the desert?”

“You’re not a kid, Paxton. You could have been hurt.”

She nodded, in full agreement with that last part.

“Coffee?” Grant repeated. “Or something stronger?”

She offered him a weak smile, still gripping the wheel. Seeming to read her tension, Grant reached in to unlock her grip. He helped her out of the car and to her feet, his touch providing the same kind of charge she had experienced earlier.

She supposed she was a sucker for feeling anything at all for this tall stranger, and countered those thoughts by telling herself he merely made her feel silly about going out there.

“Come on.” His tone was gentle but firm.