High Card: A Billionaire Shifter Novel (Lions of Las Vegas Book 1) (13 page)

No. I need to get Summer out of here.
 

The wildwolves will leave her alone. It’s me they’re after. So we make it to the highway, and after we put a little distance between us and the wolves I jump out—

Another shattering crash, this one from behind.
 

Summer screams and floors the pedal, which is real bad—
 

I whirl in my seat. There’s a snarling wolf clawing his way toward us. I press the trigger, emptying three rounds at point-blank right into the wolf’s head. The gunshots are thunderous in the cramped space. The air fills with the acrid reek of burnt gunpowder. The wolf collapses, head torn open, motionless.
 

“You got him?” Summer shouts, her voice high-pitched in hope and fear and pain.

“He won’t stay dead long.”

“What do you mean he won’t—”

The Rover’s front wheels hit the edge of the wash and rise up onto the rutted dirt track. I permit myself a quick sigh of relief. It’ll be a short-lived victory, but at least I no longer have to worry about frying the fuel cell.

Unless Summer drives us into another flood.
 

The wounds in my shoulder and thigh burn as they heal over. All I need to do is get Summer to the highway. It was a mistake, bringing her out here. Involving her in this—

“Where are they?” Summer says, peerign through the shattered glass.

“Stalking. Waiting. They hunt as a pack. Do you have more Ruger cartridges in your bag?”

Summer nods. “What kind of wolf launches itself through a truck window?”

“Do you mind if I—”

“Root through my stuff? Oh, sure. Why not? I mean, neither of us has anything to hide, right? Especially since you put hidden cameras in my fucking bedroom.”

I ignore her. Find the cartridge. Set it on my lap. Then I dig out a piece of clothing. A t-shirt. It smells like Summer. I resist the urge to bring it to my nose. Something about her. I think she saw my animal back there when I was nearly passed out. The lion. It’s almost as if
she’s
drawing him out.

Communicating with him.
 

Which is madness, since
I
can’t even communicate with him.
 

He’s a fucking monster.

Still. I’ve heard rumors.
 

About humans who can speak to Wildblood animals.
 

Not control them. But…befriend them.
 

Establish a bond.

Even…make them stronger.
 

I lift the t-shirt up. “You’re bleeding. Let me wrap it.”

“Doesn’t hurt.”

“That’s because you’re in shock.”

“You a doctor now?”

“Actually I am. In addition to being an inventor, casino owner, botanist and a concert pianist. A regular Renaissance man.”

Summer rolls her eyes. Looks at the t-shirt. She’s thinking about it.
 

“Was that a joke?”

“Was it funny?”

“No.”

“Let me wrap the wound.”

We’re all the way on the dirt track now. Summer works the Rover into third. She’s not a bad driver. Stubborn as hell, too. And pretty, even though she’s clearly only a few screams away from all-out hysterics. With that dirty-blonde wig gone her natural hair is wavy and shoulder-length, a nice lustrous copper-brown that matches her eyes.
 

Summer lifts her bleeding arm toward me. “I hope we don’t get eaten alive. That would totally
not
be okay.”

She’s in shock. Otherwise she’d be screaming in pain from where the wildwolf gored her.

“Me too,” I say as I begin wrapping the wound.

“I want to murder you myself.”

“I’m the one holding the gun.”

“
My
gun.” Summer shoots me a brutal glare.
 

“Your gun. Yes.”

“What the hell happened to you, Landon?”

I like how she says my name. I like a lot about her. Which is a shame, because she’s human—

“Summer look out!”

She ducks in time to avoid the wildwolf crashing through the driver’s window. I scramble to pick up the Ruger, press Summer’s head down against the console and loose two rounds. The first misses, the second catches the wolf in the jaw. He slides out of the Rover while we veer off the road and smash hard into a low outcrop of rock. There’s a bang and a leaking hiss that makes my blood run cold. I grab the wheel and steer us back onto the rutted track while Summer shrugs me off and sits up.
 

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” she says, squinting through the rain.
 

“Yes we do.”

The Rover’s limping along, making a sickly whump-whump sound as the rim grinds against the rocky track.
 

“Shit. Flat fucking tire.”

“Stop the truck.”

“What?”

“Stop the truck.”

Summer gives me a look like I’m insane. Maybe I am.

“Why?”

“So I can get out. It’s me the wolves are after.”

“
You
? That makes zero sense. They’re wild animals. They don’t go after specific people. And besides. Why would they be after you?”

I slip the Ruger’s cartridge into my front pocket and let a slow breath free. “Doesn’t matter why. It’s the way it is. I’ll hold them off. Get the Rover to the highway. Limp it to Vegas, then ditch it. I’m sure you can handle the rest. This is your town, after all.”

Summer frowns. “Uh-uh. Doesn’t sit right. No way.”

“I’m not asking.”

“Oh? You’re
telling
?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Summer slows the Rover.
 

I pop open the door.

“Holy shit you’re
serious
?” Summer says, gunning the engine. The partially open door slams closed. “Are you insane? Hero complex much? They’ll eat you alive—”

“They’ll eat us both alive if I don’t. I don’t know you. Shit. You stole from me—”

“
Tried
to steal,” Summer corrects.

“Tried to steal from me. But this is my fault. I won’t die knowing my curse killed an innocent woman. I have enough blood on my hands.”

“I’m hardly innocent.”

“Of this you are. Trust me.”
 

“Fuck it. No way.”

I can tell by her voice she means it. Then she turns and gives me a hard look. “
Curse
? What do you mean? Curse? Blood on your hands?”
 

“I’m going to hop out. You can’t stop me.”

Summer almost visibly withers. “You’re right. I can’t stop you. Go on and kill yourself. Fine. But don’t take my gun.”

I stare at the pink-handled Ruger.

“It’s the only thing I own that means something.”

I set the gun and the spare cartridge on the floor. Summer’s eyes widen. She thought I wouldn’t go without the gun. I slip my hand over the door handle—

“Wait! You gotta tell me. Why’d you call me out here? Those fucking photos? Of my
apartment
? C’mon, Landon—”

“Summer?”

“What?”

“There’s five thousand dollars stashed under the truck’s insurance documents. I’m sorry about the trouble.”

Summer smashes her fists on the wheel.

“You fucking—”

I pop the door open and roll out into the rain.
 

“—BASTARD!”

HE DID it. The crazy asshole actually threw himself out of the truck.
 

To the
wolves
.

No way I want that on my conscious. Playing hero.
 

The stupid shit.

It takes me maybe three seconds of deliberating before I slam the brakes, put the truck in neutral, pop the e-brake, grab my gun and spare cartridge and leap out after the idiot rich boy.

The rain’s nearly blinding. My arm aches a shit-ton. I slip in the sandy mud, lean against the truck and look up. A wolf’s shadowy grey form slides from behind a clump of creosote bush a couple hundred yards up the hill. The thing’s
huge
, nearly twice as big as I thought a wolf would be.
 

And the red eyes? I have no idea what to make of that. Rabies?

I choke down a wave of nausea, step from the truck and begin waving my arms, shouting “Here wolfie wolfie wolfie! Here wolfie wolf!”

Landon jumps around the Rover. Sees me. His mouth drops open. “Summer what the hell—”

“Here wolfie! Here I am!”

“Get in the Rover!”

“Wolfie! Yoo-hoo!”

“Summer get in the goddamned truck!”

I lock gazes with Landon. “You first.”

He’s standing frozen in the middle of the dirt road, framed by spiked yucca and twisted Joshua trees. The rain whips around him, making his blonde hair flutter wildly. His mud-stained khakis cling to his ripped thighs. He’s naked from the waist up; his sinewed forearms heavy with veins. His chest rises and falls as he draws in long breaths, the muscles in his abs carving a checkerboard pattern all the way down—

Damn.

This man. I want to hate him.
 

He’s everything I’m not. Everything I’ve had to learn to despise just to survive. But I can’t. In fact I’m beginning to suspect just the opposite. I’m fucking falling for him…or at least my body is. Fine. I want to fuck him. No harm in that. As long as I keep my priorities on point.
 

Landon straightens. He seems taller than I remember. More…imposing. His jaw juts forward in stubborn defiance. He stares out over the desert, toward the approaching wolves and the descending thunderclouds. For an instant I’m reminded of a magnificent predator surveying his kingdom.

“You can’t be here,” he says, his glittering gold eyes narrowing.
 

“I
am
here.”
 

Three wolves circle down the hill, spitting and snarling, baring their long black fangs. Every fibre of my being shrieks to run. But I grit my teeth, force down the survival instinct, and say, “Man, they look hungry.
Famished
, even. Bet we look real tasty—”

Landon seems to snap out of his trance.
 

“What? Oh hell. This is
just
my luck.”

That bugs me. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re a crazy bitch. That’s just my luck. Totally par for the course—”

“Oh. I’m a crazy bitch?”

“Yes. I knew it the moment I first saw you. That’s why I’m so…drawn to you.”
 

“Wait…what? You
did
? I mean…you
are
?” I say, almost laughing at the back-handed compliment. “You have a thing for crazy bitches?”

“No. Maybe. It doesn’t matter. Just please for the love of god get in the truck!”

I take a step toward the wolves. They’re only a hundred yards off. Give them the finger. “Would a crazy bitch do that?”

“I’m not fucking around, Summer. This isn’t a joke. Or one of your scams. This shit is
real
.” Landon’s face is bright red in fury. A vein’s popping along his brow almost all the way to his temple. Every muscle in his torso ripples and tenses. He seems sculpted from stone.
 

Super
hot.
 

“Huh. You might be right. I guess this
is
what a crazy bitch would do. Wolfie! Wolfie! I think you
do
have a thing for—”

“Get. In. The. Truck.”

“No.”

One of the wolves darts closer. I raise Layla and shoot at him. The bullet smacks into the sand a few feet over his right shoulder. The wolves scatter up the hillside and quickly out of sight.
 

“There,” I say, feeling smug. “Bastards don’t like the sound of the—”

Landon uses the moment of distraction to plough into me. He raises the gun so it’s pointing at the sky, which is a good thing because I fire another round without meaning to. Then he’s dragging me to the Rover, trying to shove me in the open driver’s side, trying to physically
force
me inside the truck, and I know he’s weak from whatever happened to him out here but he’s still stronger than me.
 

A lot stronger.
 

Landon clamps his hands on my wrists. I scream, accidentally dropping Layla onto the back seat. Try and knee him in the balls. Landon blocks my knee with his thigh and then I’m shrieking and spitting at him to let me go, calling him all sorts of nasty names. He stuffs my ass onto the driver’s seat and I get one of my legs around him so he can’t back away.
 

I feel his hard, sculpted ass press against my calf, his incredibly sexy smell filling my nose as he uses his powerful bulk to push me even further into the truck. I’m fucking gasping, struggling against him, my pussy hot for him and now I don’t even know if I’m fighting him off or pulling him close.

Landon’s gorgeous eyes sparkle golden with anger and something else…something that makes me lick my lips across his rain-soaked pec. He tastes of sweat and blood and survival. He growls down at me, wrenches on my wrists until I bite at him, almost catching his nipple between my teeth. I use the leg that’s wrapped around his ass to pull him close, feel the heavy bulge of his hard cock pressed tight against my swollen folds—

Yup. I thought so. Dude’s as turned on as I am.
 

“Get in the fucking truck,” Landon growls.

“Not without…you.”
 

I barely get the words out.
 

I’m staring at his flexing abs, the impressive bulge of his crotch, desperate to pop open the single stressed button keeping his cock in his pants while the rain rushes down, slicking us both and then Landon puts both my wrists in one of his single powerful hands and leans inside the truck cab, forcing my head down with his chest, dragging me in with him and damn I wish I was wearing a skirt and no panties instead of jeans because my pussy would be right there for him, ready, and I get the feeling there’s no way he’d be able to resist—