Zac and George exchanged a look.
“You’ll run point,” Zac said to Sarai. “Put yourself right in front of the door. It’s their only way in. Take out as many as you can with those knives. We’ll be right there to block any who get by.”
Sarai’s heart thundered. Sure, in theory she was good with knives, and, now that she had a way to deal with the visions, was even a decent fighter. But there was a giant chasm of difference between hitting an unmoving target and actually trying to kill a man.
Some of what she was thinking must’ve shown on her face, because Zac stepped up to her. “Kill them before they kill you. Fight or flight, honey. Since you’re not a falcon shifter that I know of, and we can’t get past them, it’s them or us.”
Sarai hardened her heart. “Us.”
Zac gave a sharp nod. “Good.”
Despite her thundering heart and the adrenaline pumping through her system, Sarai moved with a calm she didn’t feel to position herself in front of the door. Unfortunately, because this put her as the primary target in the vision, it also wiped out all she could see of her opponents. That was, until she switched her MP3 player back on, closed her eyes, and got the first of her knives ready to go.
She didn’t have long to wait. The wolf shifters must have somehow managed to get a key, because they didn’t bust through the door or break in, they simply unlocked it. The first man to step through that door regretted it as her knife ended up buried deep into his chest. He dropped right in front of the door, making it harder for the others to enter. The next man, who had been behind the first, managed to move as she threw. She only hit his shoulder. Still, he wouldn’t be fighting very well with one arm out of commission.
Two down, three to go,
Sarai thought.
Her heart pounded to the beats of music in her ears. She tried not to think about the fact that she’d just buried knives into two different human beings. Instead, she let anger at what they were forcing her to do—run, hide, defend her life and that of her lover—rule her head
and
her heart.
Using their still standing companion as a human shield, the other three men pushed their way through the door, then scattered. She caught a snapshot image of a tranquilizer with her name on it just moments before it was fired. With a gasp, she dropped and rolled sideways, out of the way.
She ended up right in the path of another man, but it had been a deliberate move. She could’ve gone the other way, behind Zac, who was already engaged in hand-to-hand combat with yet another. Neither he nor George had shifted into their bear forms. Their bulk would not lend well to this particular environment, being much more effective in the wide-open spaces of the wilderness.
Sarai came to her feet to face her opponent. He swung. She blocked, then blocked his next move. With both of his hands trapped, he tried to pull back only to receive a series of rapid punches and finger jabs, which pushed him back further. At which point she delivered several well-placed kicks in his ribs and, finally, his head.
He fell to the ground, dazed but not out. Sarai took advantage of his momentary distraction to check on George and Zac. As she watched through her mind’s eye, Zac managed to get his opponent from behind. He squeezed his arms, muscles bunching with the effort, until the man dropped, like a limp rag, to the floor. George knocked his adversary out with a hard kick to the face.
She swung back to the man on the ground, who was now trying to get up. Picking up a vase nearby, she smashed it over his head. She didn’t know if she’d killed him or knocked him out. She didn’t care.
Only one foe remained in any kind of conscious condition. The guy with Sarai’s knife still sticking out of his shoulder sat on the floor, his back up against the wall. He held up one good hand in surrender as Zac approached him with menacing intent.
Grabbing the guy by his upper arms, Zac yanked him to standing.
“Who sent you?” he demanded with a shake.
The shifter stared at him, mute resolution in his cold eyes.
“Was it Kyle Carstairs?”
All that elicited was a sneer, though it was hard to tell if the curled lip was derision or respect.
“You’re part of the group that attacked Jaxon Keller and his wife out in Montana last spring. I can smell it on you.” Zac pulled his lips back in disgust, baring his teeth. “Why?”
“You’ll have to kill me, because I’m not going to tell you anything.”
“That can be arranged,” Zac growled.
“Wait,” Sarai called just as Zac went to snap the man’s neck.
Zac paused to look over his shoulder at her, frustration written across his face in a fierce frown and a clenched jaw.
Sarai ignored him and walked over to address the man he held in a quiet voice.
“You tell Kyle Carstairs I’m off limits. So is Zac.”
Another nasty smirk. “I don’t take my orders from Kyle Carstairs.”
Sarai tipped her head to the side. “You know who I am?”
The man looked wary at the change in questioning. “Yeah.”
“Then you know what I can do. Of course you don’t take your orders from Kyle. The people behind him…that’s who’s calling the shots. You’re just a soldier. Those orders come down the chain. Now I want you to send this message back up the chain…”
She gave him the nastiest smile she could muster, glaring at him with eyes full of dark purpose. “Any vision of mine that leads back to you, your pack, Kyle, or his backers…every person I can see in the chain is dead. Do you understand? I highly recommend you all stop your plans immediately. I wouldn’t want to wipe out…” She tipped her head again. “Your wife, Larissa. Your mother, Betty. Or your Alpha. But I will. I
can
find them.”
The man, still held up by Zac’s grip on him, paled. “You tell them,” she said.
Then she nodded at Zac, who slammed a fist through the man’s face, knocking him out.
He glanced at her. “You’re seriously scary when you want to be. You know that?”
“Hey, kuluk,” Zac said softly. “We’re here.” He jiggled his shoulder, the one Sarai had commandeered as a pillow.
“Mmmm?” She gave a sleepy murmur but didn’t open her eyes.
“We’ve made it. We’re at the bus stop.”
He watched as her eyes fluttered open. She levered up, still leaning against him, and looked out the window.
They’d just spent the last four days hopping across the country via different forms of transportation. Sometimes they used public transport—trains, buses, airplanes. Sometimes they traveled by foot. Their animal forms all navigated long distance well. They’d also backtracked and retraced their steps several times in an attempt to lose or confuse anyone following.
This bus stop was supposed to lead to the final leg of their journey.
Sarai sat up and rubbed at her eyes, reminding Zac of a small child. Not that she was remotely childlike, but something about the sweet image tugged at his heart. Or maybe it was the fact that only a few weeks ago, she never would have lain in his arms in such peaceful sleep. His feelings toward her had moved way past protective, or even possessive, to something deeper. Until this was over though, he didn’t know what to do about that.
“Okay,” she mumbled.
They all exited the bus with the rest of the riders, most of whom were taking a break before going on to the next stop. But they were stopping here. Sarai had surprised him and George with a rather ingenious ace up her sleeve. One Andie, who had come through in a big way, had provided.
They got off the bus with bags in hand—only what they’d been able to pack before they’d departed the New York apartment. They trouped across the wide parking lot into the diner located beside the bus stop. An all-night diner, thankfully, because four in the morning was early even for most breakfast places. They halted just inside the door where they blinked in the harsh fluorescent lighting as they looked for the person they’d planned to meet here.
They checked the counter, where several truckers sat on stools, hunched over large platters of eggs, hash browns, and pancakes, coffee steaming in mugs beside them. They scanned the booths with their red plastic seats and laminated tabletops. The air was filled with the scents of grease and frying meat. Zac’s stomach rumbled.
“Do you see him?” Zac asked, ignoring his hunger pangs for the moment.
Sarai shook her head. “Not that I’d recognize him, but Andie gave me a pretty good idea.”
“What are we looking for?”
“Well, from her description, I’d say a wirier version of George.” She grinned up at his old friend and ribbed him with her elbow a little.
“What exactly does that mean?” George grumped, but Zac caught a small smile under his thick mustache.
“You know…” Sarai grinned again. “Crusty. Weathered. Handsome of course. Kind of an old cowboy-on-the-range type.”
George lifted a single eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
Sarai shrugged as she looked around. “Yeah. But I have a thing for crotchety old cowboys.” She winked at him.
George smirked. “Well, that’s all right then.”
Zac shook his head. “I seem to remember the last time I called you old, you cuffed me in the ear.”
George just looked at him with raised eyebrows. “That’s right.”
Zac waved toward Sarai. “Well?”
“She’s a lot cuter than you, boy.”
Zac grunted in response. Clearly she’d won George over. Quite a feat.
Sarai stilled. “Umm…I think that might be him.” She pointed to a guy with his back turned to them.
“I’ll be damned,” George muttered beside him.
Sarai walked over to the man seated in a booth, nursing a cup of coffee. Zac sent George a questioning look, which was waved off before they moved to follow her.
****
Sarai inched around to get a better look as she neared their would-be rescuer. He glanced up as she approached.
“Mac?” she asked tentatively.
“Yes’m.” He tipped a well-worn baseball cap back as he stood. “You must be Sarah?”
“Sarai,” she corrected as she held out her hand to shake.
“The wife of Abram in the Bible, before he became known as Abraham and she became known as Sarah.”
She smiled. “That’s right.” Few people caught that reference. The version of her name was unusual these days.
He nodded.
Not a smiler,
she thought. That was okay. Neither was George, really.
Sarai sensed Zac come up behind her. He laid his hand against the small of her back. She just barely resisted the urge to lean into him.
“Mac. This is Zac Montclair and George Cotilliard.”
As she made the introduction, Sarai caught the flicker of…something…in Mac’s eyes. Irritation? Questions? But his gaze was focused on George. She caught George’s slight shake of his head when she glanced back.
What was going on?
George noticed her gaze but did nothing to clue her in, so she turned back to Mac. “You once told Andie that if she ever needed help, to give you a call, and if you were in the area, you’d come running. I hope that extends to friends of hers.”
“You said as much on the phone, and I promised to help. I only spent a couple of days with Andie, but any friend of hers is a friend of mine.” He glanced at the two men behind her. “They can come too.”
Sarai’s held in a chuckle as she felt Zac stiffen. Mac ignored him and motioned them all to join him in the booth. Just to save some awkwardness, Sarai scooted in next to Mac. The plastic of the seat squeaked a protest with each movement.
“Now.” Mac landed a curious gaze on her. “Do I want to know what kind of trouble you’re in?”
Sarai bit her lip. “There’s a group of men after—”
“They’re after Sarai,” Zac broke in.
But she shook her head. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“D’ya do anything illegal?”
“No, sir,” Sarai said. “I have some specific skills they may be interested in acquiring against my will.”
“Uh-huh. Would those skills have something to do with the knives strapped to yer person?”
Sarai’s eyes widened. She glanced nervously at Zac, who’d stiffened in his seat. “No,” she said to Mac. She didn’t bother to ask him how he knew about that. No way could he see them.
“Hmmm. All you need is a ride?”
“Yes.”
“The coordinates you told me are in the middle of nowhere, Idaho.”
“Yes. We’ll go the rest of the way by foot.”
Mac pulled a toothpick out of the front pocket of his cowboy shirt, stuck it between his teeth and chewed as he thought.
After a good long moment, he nodded. “All right.”
“Thank you, Mac. We’ll owe you one for this.”
“I’ll remember that,” he said.
Sarai had a feeling he meant it.
The plan was for Mac, who was a cross-country truck driver, to transport them to their destination. The only tricky part was that they had more people than Mac had space for in the cab of his truck.
Mac drove, of course, and there was a seat for one more person up front. In the back of the cab was the living quarters which sported a bed large enough for one man to lie down. Except not George or Zac, who were both too tall. This meant two people had to sit on the bed, side-by-side, legs sticking off the end.
Zac and George were in the back playing cards when Mac pulled off the main road and made his way down a smaller road for a bit. Then he stopped altogether.
Sarai looked out the window at the wooded area. “We here?”
“This is the spot,” he confirmed.
Zac and George poked their heads out of the sleeping compartment. Zac took one look outside and nodded. “This is good.”
They all gathered their things and hopped outside. Impulsively, Sarai gave Mac a big hug. Something about the gruff truck driver was likable. He’d helped both her and Andie now in less than a year. He was good people in her opinion.
“Hey now,” he scoffed when she hugged him.
But she just grinned. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“It was nothin’.”
Then he gave her a hard look. “You tell Andie my offer of help stands. That goes for you too, little lady.”
“You don’t want to get mixed up in our problems, Mac. Thanks for the offer though. I hope we won’t have to take you up on it again.” She reached out to give his arm a squeeze.