Read Alpha Pack 4 - Hunters Heart Online
Authors: J.D. Tyler
“I’m going to cut your shirt off. It’s the only way.”
“Okay. Ryon, I—”
“Shh. Stop talking.”
“Hurry.”
Slipping a hunting knife from his boot, Ryon fought to
quiet his racing heart. Hands trembling, he pushed her
ponytail aside, grasped her T-shirt at the collar with one
hand, and positioned the blade of the knife pointing
downward. Slowly he began to cut, splitting the shirt open
at her back. Her lacy white bra peeked at him from
beneath, hugging perfect bronze skin. His gut knotted and
he forced himself not to think of what would happen to that
perfection if he failed.
Next he made a cut from each armhole in order to let the
garment fall away from her skin without jostling the snake.
Last, he tugged the shirt from her waistband, inch by
torturous inch, until all that remained to be done was lift it
away—hitchhiker and all.
Moving around to her front, Ryon knelt between her
splayed legs. Sweat trickled into his eyes. He swiped an
arm across his brow, then began to pull the shirt off,
gathering it at her stomach. He looked into her white face
and nodded.
“I’m going to put my hand underneath the snake to
support it as I lift it away. Here goes.”
Ryon carefully slid one hand under the bundle, the other
on top. He had to resist the strong urge to lurch to his feet
and sling the creature. A sudden move, however, would
result in one of them getting bitten. Legs shaking, he stood
with agonizing slowness. As he did, part of the mutilated
material slid off the creature to reveal its head and color
pattern.
Red and yellow kills a fellow, red and black, friend of
Jack
. His heart slammed painfully against his ribs. Death
rested in his hands. Awake now, the coral snake raised its
head to stare at him with cold, beady eyes, tongue flicking.
Never taking his attention from the serpent, Ryon
continued to back away from Daria until he was positive
she was out of danger.
With all his strength, he flung it far out into the forest.
“Oh God!” Daria’s voice broke and she buried her face
in her hands, elbows on her knees. “I sat down to rest and
that thing crawled up my arm and into my shirt. I couldn’t
move.”
Ryon reached her in two long strides and sat on the log
beside her. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around
her and gathered her against his chest. His body leapt to
painful awareness of hers pressed close, trembling, her
skin smooth as silk under his roughened palms. Her dark
head was tucked under his chin, one hand clutching the
front of his shirt as though she’d never let go. Fierce
protectiveness swelled around his heart, making his chest
ache.
“It’s all right,” he crooned. “You’re okay. I’m here,
baby.” He murmured other things too, lilting words he
knew she didn’t catch—but she didn’t have to know their
meaning to allow them to soothe her. She began to relax.
“Never run from me again,” he rasped. “Never. Swear
it to me.”
“I swear.”
For a while she was content to let him hold her,
accepting the comfort he offered. At last, she drew away
and wiped at her face. He felt the loss of her warmth,
immediate and disconcerting.
She heaved a deep, shaky breath and Ryon tried not to
stare at the ample swell of her creamy breasts. The lacy
scrap of material posing as a bra didn’t do much to hide
them, and now wasn’t the time to indulge in some
afternoon delight. With an effort, he moved his gaze north
and kept his attention focused on her face. Mostly.
“Thank you.” She sniffed.
He cleared his throat. “You’re my mate. There’s no way
I’d let anything happen to you.”
“I’m sorry I left without telling you.” She stared at the
ground, miserable. “But I can’t give up, Ryon. I can’t just
leave without getting the information we need.”
Ryon gaped at her. “Are you kidding me? Daria,
meeting up with a poisonous snake is only one of a
hundred dangers you could’ve run up against. You
promised me you wouldn’t run again.”
“And I won’t. But what August is doing is terrible, and
stopping him will save lives. I need your help to bring him
down.”
“To help Ben, you mean,” he said bitterly. Instantly, he
regretted letting out the green-eyed monster, but she took
his hand, shaking her head.
“Not just him. Everyone who’s been ruined by him,
Bowman, and Malik. This might be our only chance.”
Exasperating woman! “I’ll think about it, but that’s all
I’m saying.” Ryon stood and offered her his hand. “Do you
have an extra shirt?”
A flush colored her cheeks and anger flashed in her
eyes, but she nodded and took his hand, allowing him to
help her up.
Daria fished through her pack for the garment. Ryon
was disappointed when she brought forth a camouflage T-
shirt and slipped it over her head, covering her beautiful
skin. He didn’t know what he wanted to do more—
strangle her or make love to her. Then she walked the few
yards to where her mangled black shirt rested on the
ground, poked it with her foot, stooped, and retrieved it.
“Never know when a rag might come in handy,” she
speculated, stuffing it into her pack.
Ryon didn’t answer. Had he detected a sound to the
west? A movement? The hair on the back of his neck
prickled, but it could be his overwrought imagination,
nothing more.
A flash of metal through the trees caught the corner of
his eye a split second before he spun, bracing the M16 at
his shoulder.
“Daria, go!” he shouted.
To her credit, she didn’t hesitate. She swept the pack
onto one shoulder and bolted in the opposite direction as
the forest came alive with bodies.
The figures seemed to detach themselves from the forest
wall like demons from the underworld, come to claim his
soul. And he should know.
But not today, dammit. He sprayed the area with a round
of ammo to buy them precious seconds. The men fell back,
ducking behind cover, giving Ryon an instant to whirl and
sprint after Daria before they returned fire.
She negotiated the undergrowth like a swift deer and he
had to work to catch up. He barely heard the rhythmic tap
of the gunfire over the blood rushing in his ears. He’d
almost reached her when she stumbled over a root and
went sprawling with a cry. He paused a beat long enough
to grab the back of her shirt, yank up hard, and drag her in
his wake.
Branches and vines tore at their faces and clothing,
scratched their arms. Wouldn’t matter much with a bullet
in each of their backs, though, especially if the men were
using silver. But that paled in comparison to the horrors
August was capable of should they be captured alive.
Ryon pushed harder. Taking a detour south, he hoped to
throw the men off the trail. They would look for him to
stay close to the river, so he’d do the opposite. After a
while, the shouts and curses disappeared, so it seemed to
have worked.
He stopped, holding fast to her arm, and listened.
Time stretched out and the whistles of the colorful birds
all around them resumed. Ryon let out the breath he’d been
holding. Thank God, they’d lost the goons.
Daria tugged her hand free of his and put her hands on
her hips, shooting him an annoyed look. The stance made
her the very picture of a perturbed dark angel and he had
to resist the urge to grin.
“Well, I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
Ryon’s jaw dropped. “Me? You’re the one who—”
She stepped close and touched his right arm. “You’re
bleeding.”
Ryon glanced at himself. A gouge marred his biceps
where one of the bullets had grazed him. Blood trailed in a
thin line down his arm and dripped off his fingers. He
shrugged. “I’ll heal. Let’s get moving.”
Giving her a quick kiss, Ryon caught a glimpse of the
exasperation that flashed across her face before he took
her hand, turned, and strode through the trees.
Ryon pushed them east as fast as he could hack through
the dense undergrowth. Daria had been silent for several
hours, holding her own without complaint or asking him
again to consider turning back. They’d stopped only twice
for a quick drink of water and a brief rest.
By the second break, he could see exhaustion taking its
toll on her. Long strands of dark hair had escaped from her
ponytail, and floated around her face in disarray. She sat
on the spongy earth, legs drawn up to her chest, and
hugged her knees, staring into the forest with an expression
that had taken his breath away. The look went deeper than
grief, more eloquent than tears, and it had cut Ryon to the
bone.
She hated to give up. He was forcing her to abandon
finding the cure for Ben, at least temporarily.
“When are we going to turn north?” Daria asked.
“Tomorrow we’ll head that way gradually, and make
our way toward the rendezvous point at an angle. If we
push hard, we can still reach the team before August
intercepts us.”
“How long will it take us, at this rate?”
“By the afternoon, maybe sooner. Provided you don’t
lead me on any more wild-goose chases.”
A soft groan sounded at his back. They’d have to haul
ass to stay one step ahead of August and reach the Pack
that fast. Still, she offered no complaint.
Ryon had to admire her courage, and he understood her
need to bring down August all too well. Yeah, he’d get the
sonofabitch even if he had to come back here alone to do
it. The last few years had been about healing, then starting
his new job with the Pack.
He’d tried to keep his mind off the nightmare of his past
by diving into one dangerous assignment after another.
Rebuilding his life, securing his future. Then disaster had
blindsided him yet again when his team had been
ambushed months ago, and he’d driven himself even
harder.
“When will we make camp?”
“As soon as I find a good spot. It’ll be dark shortly.”
She muttered, “About time.” He couldn’t help smiling to
himself. That his mate allowed the smallest gripe to pass
her lips testified to how wiped out she must be.
He wasted no time finding a secluded area similar to
where he’d pitched the tent last night. Working to beat the
coming darkness, he quickly erected the shelter, making
certain the material couldn’t be seen easily.
“Looks good,” Daria approved. “I don’t think anyone
passing by could spot it.”
“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out.”
“Yeah. Hungry?” She waved a hand at the ground
behind her. The two metal bowls had been placed on a
blanket, along with a strip of jerky for each of them.
“Instant beef stew. I’m starving and somehow getting less
picky by the hour.”
“Me, too,” he admitted. His stomach grumbled as he
joined her. “I appreciate it.”
They sat cross-legged on the blanket facing each other.
Daria picked up her bowl, sniffed, and wrinkled her nose.
“You know, this stuff isn’t that bad and I’m used to it,
but there’s something mildly disturbing about food that
poofs out when you add water. How do they
do
that?”
Ryon laughed, and she smiled back. His heart did a
funny leap in his chest. “One of life’s great mysteries, I
suppose.”
“I’d say you’re one of those mysteries,” she retorted,
waggling her spoon at him. “Every bit as interesting as
old, dried up beef, and twice as tough.”
He barked another laugh, nearly choking on his stew.
“Gee, you’d better stop with the compliments before my
ego explodes my brain.”
“Sorry. Guess I’m getting punchy.” She hesitated, then
observed him thoughtfully. “Tell me about you, or your
family.”
“What’s to know?” He stared, admiring the way the
corners of her eyes crinkled with tiny crow’s-feet when
she smiled. Her full lips, the graceful curve of her jaw.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Atlanta, Georgia, armpit of the South.” He didn’t offer
more, and she put down her bowl, throwing him an
exasperated look.
“You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“Nope. You compared me to dehydrated meat. I’m still
recovering.”
“Jeez, we’re touchy.” She leaned forward, peering
intently into his face. As she did, Ryon tried not to stare at
the perfect roundness of her breasts pushing against her T-
shirt.
“What?”
“You told me some about your mom and sister. What
about your father?”
His throat tightened. “He was a Marine lieutenant. He
was killed in action in Operation Desert Storm when I
was a boy.”
Daria laid a hand over his. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“It was a long time ago. And I had Mom to put up with
me, bless her.” He smiled. “Lisa came along later, from
her marriage to my stepdad.”
Daria cocked her head, an odd look on her face. “Do