Desert Blood (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 2) (12 page)

She breathed a sigh of relief and tucked the stick behind her back. Holding it seemed silly now. With someone to help, she’d be on her way in no time.

With one hand, she blocked the glare of headlights, wondering why the driver didn’t put the things on low beam. The vehicle slowed then stopped. Some kind of fancy SUV, that much she could tell. Everyone on the ranch drove dusty pickups that were never as waxed and polished as this one. After a weighty pause in which the wind seemed to creep away and hide, the driver’s door opened. A tall, angular man stepped out, and cold instantly gripped her bones.

Suddenly Heather didn’t want help any more. She wanted to jump back in the car and drive away, flat or no flat. But it was too late.

“Good evening,” the man said, words slicing the night. He was stepping forward now, eyeing her. His long hair was black as fresh tar and just as shiny. He’d fit in at a trendy city bar but not out here in the desert. And instead of the scent that went with his look—the scent of a pricey cologne—the man carried the faintest odor of ammonia.

“Need a hand?” The voice matched the rest of him: slick, almost oily. Not to be trusted.

She gripped the stick behind her back and stammered a reply. “No thanks, I’ve got it.”

He circled around the front of her VW, barely glancing at the tire before taking up an attentive stance at the front bumper. Heather spun at the sound of a click behind her and watched the other doors open. The SUV disgorged three more men and rose on its axles, relieved of its burden. A faint vibration, a disturbance flooded the evening air, making her skin crawl. Two of the men were tall and slight, rough copies of the first. The fourth was a vision straight out of her nightmares. He moved with confidence and calm, his skin sickly pale in the black and white exposure of night. The man was evil, through and through.

She took a sharp breath.

“A pleasure to see you again, Heather.” Alon’s voice slid over her body and seemed to tuck in behind her, nudging her closer. She wanted to run, but her legs were rooted to the spot, already agreeing to star in tomorrow’s crime statistics. Because that’s the only place this encounter would end.

“I’ve been looking for you for quite some time.” The moonlight caught in his teeth, and she saw the glint of a fang.

Sick realization washed over her at his words. The man had hunted her all the way across the country, obsessed. She held back the scream building in her throat and sent out a silent SOS instead. As if anyone could hear. Bitter words reared up in her mind.
Cody, could you just peel yourself away from your new girlfriend for five minutes and help me with a vampire?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Cody had never done that before—slid down a door in utter dejection, right down to the floor. It was like a new yoga move—the kind that harbored no hope. So many beautiful nights at Heather’s house, and now this.

He whispered her name into the doorframe, then tapped in the code—the one he’d been imagining meant
I love you
. He strained his ears for an answering tap, but nothing stirred inside. She’d slammed the door on her heart.

There. Yet another person bitterly disappointed in him—and this before she even found out what he really was.

It’s for the best,
a hollow voice lectured as he gathered his limbs and stumbled back to the car. Duty called. Literally. Because Kyle was bombarding him with a third urgent call in the last five minutes. Cody cracked his jaw, hard. Maybe that would help: covering pain with pain.

He knew what he had to do—wrap up the case with Kyle and get back to his old routine on the ranch. Heather’s contract was due to run out soon, and then she’d be gone. He’d mate with Sabrina, produce a few pups. He would try to love them, even if he never loved her, and try not to think about what might have been.

Duty. So what if it killed him inside?

He checked his messages.
New victim. Meet me. Mile 13, Copper Mine Road. Kyle.

The wind whipped through the open window of his truck, scolding him. Trying to focus on the case was impossible, though. A lifetime of driving wouldn’t put Heather out of his mind.

Copper Mine Road wasn’t far from Heather’s place. A blaze of lights shone at a lonely spot along that lonely road. The crime scene. Three patrol cars, as well as Kyle’s unmarked vehicle, were clustered around a compact car, parked well off the road. Cody parked but made no move to get out, struggling to remember why this was important.

Because a woman has been murdered. Because solving this case might finally win Dad’s respect.
The second reason didn’t resonate with any of the wreckage inside him. The first, well, it was too late to help this woman, but the crime scene might yield some clue that would finally let them nail the vampires.

He got out of the car grudgingly, and it seemed like a long, long way down.

Kyle stepped up, face grim. “Another one. Happened last night, but only discovered now.”

Cody followed him, ducking under the crime scene tape to the car parked under a thorny copse of mesquite. The driver’s window was open, all doors ajar. The police officer standing watch over the vehicle was pale.

“Same profile,” Kyle said. “Female, late twenties. Multiple knife wounds.”
Sucked dry
, he added, for Cody’s ears alone.

Puncture wounds?
he asked, feeling the itch of his claws. He could already smell the ashy hint of vampire.

Kyle shrugged.
Her throat was slashed deep enough to cover up, same as the others.

The vampires had struck again and covered their tracks. From where Cody stood, he could see the woman’s torso, her torn and bloodstained clothes. He ducked in for a closer look and stopped cold.

It wasn’t Heather, couldn’t be Heather. That didn’t stop his heart from flipping over, though. She looked enough like Heather for his stomach to clamp down, hard. The bun, the hair coloring, the general description all fit. “Jesus,” he whispered. Too close, the resemblance was too close. Cody whipped away from the scene. Then he froze and rotated slowly back, taking in the car: a rusty orange compact, just like Heather’s.

Cody backpedaled, stumbling for his truck. “Kyle, get in!” He jumped behind the wheel while Kyle stepped over, far too slowly. “Get in the fucking truck!” he yelled, gunning the engine. He took off as soon as Kyle had one foot in the door. By the time Kyle closed the door, they were going fifty and climbing.

“Uh, Code…?” Kyle started. His spiky hair echoed the surprise in his face.

Cody’s hands bit down on the wheel to stop the shaking. “She looks just like Heather.”

“Who’s Heather?”

Cody ignored that. “Last victim was close, too. And the car was the same. Orange import.”

Kyle was eyeing him closely, putting things together as Cody hit seventy, aiming for eighty, if the truck would let him. It was all he could do to keep his claws from ripping through his skin. Vampires were after Heather. He didn’t know why or how, only that he had to get to her now. He took a hand off the steering wheel to punch her number into his phone. The truck swerved, screaming over rumble strips before he jerked it back on course. He had to know she was okay. Even if she didn’t want to talk to him, he had to know. Had to get to her, right now. He’d pick her up bodily if he had to, take her to the ranch and keep her safe until he found the vampires and scattered their ashes all over the Southwest.

But the phone just rang and rang.

He hung up and tried again, desperately willing her to pick up. She had to be home, right? The truck rattled in agony. Still no answer. He threw the phone down and glowered at the miles between him and her house. “The New Mexico victims—what kind of cars did they drive?”

Kyle gave him a blank look. He shook his head then pulled his phone out and dialed. Cody reached for Heather in his mind. They said mates could find each other, even over vast distances. He shook his head at himself. What a fucking test.

He reached out with his mind, forming a warning.
Heather, lock yourself up. Heather, hide. Heather—

Kyle grunted and clicked his phone shut. “Both victims drove hatchback imports. Orange.”

His grip nearly broke through the steering wheel. Where the hell could she be?

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“So beautiful, so afraid.” Alon’s voice was aged honey; it flowed, but didn’t taste quite right.

Fear rattled Heather’s bones, but she shoved it away. She had to be strong, angry. Because anger was much more conducive to accomplishing anything—like saving her own skin.

“I’d like to see you on a road at night, outnumbered. Would you be so tough then?” She did her best imitation of a sneer.

Alon chuckled. “That’s what I love about you, Heather.” His tongue caressed the word love. “So strong inside.” He came a step closer and sniffed the air. “So delicious. No one else comes close,” he murmured, and her eyes went wide. Alon must have caught that because his stare pinned her like a butterfly to a display. “Cathy was a great disappointment, you know.”

Her heart jackhammered in her chest. Cathy had suffered a terrible end, while Heather had escaped. But not this time.

“Oh no, have no fear. You’re too good for that.”

She glanced around at the other men, impassive automatons awaiting a command. What would it be? Kill? Rape? Cut? Her legs trembled as she scanned desperately for some escape. Did she have any chance of outrunning them? Of fighting back? Any chance at all?

Alon beckoned with his hand, calling her to heel. The man had some kind of magnetism because she nearly took a step toward him. But she caught herself and sent another silent plea into the night. If she could stall long enough, maybe someone from the ranch would drive by.

“I won’t hurt you.” His voice tried to soothe, but the icy edge gave him away.

Right.

“Be my companion, Heather.” His fangs showed again. “You’ll be a queen.”

Her stomach recoiled.

“Come with me, Heather.”

Over my dead body.
She almost said it aloud, but why tempt a vampire?

He gave an exaggerated sigh, closing the distance between them. “I’m getting tired of waiting, Heather. If you won’t give, I will take.” He took a final step.

She shifted her feet, pulled out her hockey stick, and swung with all her might. Never had she put so much power into a hockey stick before. Then again, she was swinging for her life. Too late, Alon’s arm jerked up to try to block it. The stick connected with a sickening crack, splitting his left cheek and throwing him to the right. Heather gasped and jumped away, but then froze in awe of what she’d done. The other three vampires did the same, lunging forward then halting in their tracks.

Alon had caught himself with one hand. The other was on his cheek, which was split wide open. She could see strange, red-blue blood pooling over bone.

The vampire rose slowly and took a long minute considering, tasting his own blood. The dark eyes that slid toward her were pure malice—enough to finally spark the impulse to run for her life. Her legs hammered into action, desperate to get away.

Behind her, Alon hissed two words. “You die.”

Fear fueled her legs, enough to give her a head start. She made it to the edge of the road before the first vampire loomed, a dark shadow over her left shoulder. She lunged right, spun, and struck blindly in pure survival mode. The hockey stick connected with an unholy
thwack
that vibrated in her hands. She didn’t stop to see where she hit him, though the man’s grunt reported a solid blow. But not enough, and certainly not enough to shake off all four.

A few more steps and she’d be diving headlong into the night. The vampires were behind her, reaching out while she ducked. Instinct told her they’d crush her neck the instant they made contact. She ran on, desperate to at least die trying, not standing like a sheep. Not that anyone would know the difference once she was gone. Who did she have to miss her, anyway?

The night air shimmered before her, the way it did in the heat of noon. Something was rushing in from the depths of the desert, hell-bent on her. She skidded in her tracks. Were there more vampires out there?

An urgent whisper—the hoarse scratch of a bush, maybe?—told her to duck. It came as a command, and her legs complied before her mind could analyze it. She dove at the feet of the oncoming foe just as it leaped, a dark mass hurtling out of the shadows. Something brushed her back and she hit the ground hard, her hockey stick wrenching her wrist. Behind her, the road exploded in violence. She rolled, scrambling for rational thought.

Get to the car!
cried another disembodied whisper.
Get to the car!

She struggled to her knees. The car was right over there, the hatch opened as she’d left it. The road was a blur of sound and shadow as the vampires clashed with the beast that had come out of the night. All fur, fangs, and fury, it bellowed in rage and slashed with bladelike claws. It was a coyote—a huge one. She’d never seen anything like it. No, she corrected herself as it lurched past the headlights—a wolf. A massive, outraged wolf. Something flashed in the blur of the melee, and she froze at the sight of gold-brown eyes.

Get to the car, Heather!

The wolf drove the attackers toward the SUV. Heather forced herself to circle behind and inch toward her car. If she could lock herself in, she might stand a chance. Stick in hand, she rushed for the door, only to be body checked into it by one of Alon’s men. All the air was pushed out of her lungs; her ribs screamed. Spiked fingernails pierced her neck, jerking her head back. Her stick was useless, trapped between her and the metal. The smell of ashes invaded her nose, along with the unmistakable scent of death and decay. She squeezed her eyes shut as a hot breath huffed into the back of her neck. She was trapped, helpless.

As the outer tip of a fang pinched her skin, something akin to the roar of a freight train thundered in her ear, and she was hurled away, bouncing off metal and earth until she came to a rough halt by the front tire of her car. Everything was a blur, a rush of sight and sound, permeated by a musky smell. Her eyes opened to legs—many furry, canine legs. She was trapped by wild dogs—no, wolves.