Training Their Mate [Pack Wars-Book 1] (2 page)

As they raced away her vision blurred and she
blinked a few times. Long legs emerged from the hurrying mass, then arms popped
through the swirling balls of fur, and finally heads. By the time the creatures
climbed back into the van, they were human.

Okay, that was so not right.
She was clearly hallucinating. As soon as the van fled the scene she twisted
around, curious to discover who or what scared the vicious animals away.
A tall man with a handgun by his side stood
silhouetted against the alley entrance.

When she tried to get up, he
raced toward her and knelt beside her. “Are you okay?”

In spite of the streetlight, she couldn’t see
his face but his tone sounded reassuring. In fact, it had an official air to
it.

 
“Are you a cop?” Maybe Mr. Couch had
turned her in to the authorities. Her head ached and her mind fuzzed.

“I’m not a cop, but I am a
former marine if that counts. Where are you hurt?”

She hadn’t taken the time to
fully assess her injuries.
Her
adrenaline from minutes ago waned.

 
“My knees.” She tried to touch them then
noticed her bloodied hands. “My hands, too.” The cuts throbbed more than her
head, and she was drenched to the skin. Hell, she was cold and achy, and
apparently hallucinating. Here she thought she’d seen dogs turn into men.
Perhaps she was losing her mind.

The Good Samaritan looked
both ways down the alley. “They might be back. We need to get you to safety.
Otherwise, I’d take the time to check you out here.”

She loved the sound of the
safety
word but hated the thought that
the men might return.

“They couldn’t have been
after me. It must have been a case of mistaken identity, or maybe the dogs just
got loose.”

“I wish that was true, but
it’s not.”

What did he know that she
didn’t? Maybe now wasn’t the best time for twenty questions. The rain hadn’t let
up and she shivered. The last thing she needed was to get within striking
distance of those horrible beasts, again. He was right about one thing. She had
to get the hell out of here. “Okay, then. Sure.”

He helped her stand, and when
she brushed off the gravel bits from her knees blood trickled down her legs.

“Let me see your palm.”

This man was as much a
stranger as the men in the van, but he’d saved her while those other men had
tried to maim or possibly kill her. Right now she was in no position to argue,
so she held it out.

The splattering rain made the
red liquid pool. If the stranger hadn’t been holding her palm, she would have
tilted it to get rid of the blood. “It hurts.”

“We need to get you to a
doctor.”

“What I need is to go home
and take a hot shower.”
And get as far
away from here as possible.
A shudder raced down her body when she
remembered the vision of the animals turning into men.

“No.”

No?
“Excuse me, but I don’t even know you.”
She jerked her hand back.

“Ma’am. I’m trained as a
first responder. From the blood on your forehead, it looks like you banged your
head, too. You might have a concussion. As much as I’d like to get another shot
at those bastards, can we go?”

Perhaps her concussed brain
was messed up. “Fine.”

He replaced the gun in his
holster. On her first step, her knee sent out a twinge and she was forced to
grab his proffered hand. When it was clear she had to limp, he wrapped a secure
arm around her waist. She leaned against his side and couldn’t help notice how
well their bodies meshed. Considering her lips came to his neck,
she’d say he was a couple inches over six feet
to her five-foot nine inches in her three-inch heels.

What was she doing thinking
about this man? She should be focusing on the fact she’d almost been killed. An
invisible draw seemed to exist between them, almost as if destiny had stepped
in.
Ridiculous. You’re just scared.

She tried to replay what
happened in her mind, but it became more horrific each time. When they reached
the sidewalk he turned left instead of heading toward her car. She wasn’t
getting into his vehicle, no matter if he was some military dude or even the
Chief of Police.

“My car’s the other way,” she
said.

“My car is half a block from
here, and you’re in no condition to drive.”

She checked out the four
vehicles. One was angled away from the curb. “Is the black SUV yours?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He sucked at parking. She
faced him. “Look. I really appreciate the way you saved me from those dogs, but
you don’t know me, and I don’t know you. I can take a cab.”

His grin filled his face then
disappeared just as fast. For a moment, the smile transformed his entire being
into something that sent desire rampaging through her. She stepped back,
surprised at her own carnal reaction—especially since she’d almost been
killed.

He held up his hands. “How
about this? We’ll take a cab to the clinic. When we’re done, we take a cab back
to your car and you can be on your way. My treat.”

Her hair was matted to her
face from the rain, so she didn’t think that was a pick up line. She was cold,
in pain, and needed help. Then, there was the fact he had a gun. Well she did,
too, but she’d never have the guts to actually shoot anyone other than Harvey
Couch.

“All right.”

While she couldn’t see his
chest cave, she thought she heard him exhale. He probably thought she was some
ditzy blonde in a now see-through blouse and a too short skirt who had no idea
what had just happened to her. If she hadn’t needed Harvey Couch to hire her on
the spot, she never would have dressed this way.

“I’m Trax Field, by the way.”

She liked the name. “I’m Liz
Wharton.” Too late, she realized she probably should have used her fake name,
but he wouldn’t have known who she was anyway.

He stepped into the street
and waved down a cab. There weren’t that many in this city, so she was happy
when one drove by and stopped.

Trax held open the door, and
she hesitated. Was this the dumbest move or the most prudent? Time to decide.

Chapter Two

In the end, Liz crawled in
the cab. She was too uncomfortable to refuse his help. Besides, the man seemed
to know something about the owners of the white van. Maybe he could help her
find out why those dogs had attacked her. And, there had to be a reason why her
savior happened to be in that alley with a gun.

Trax didn’t try to sit close
to her in the cab for which she was thankful. His posture was rather rigid, and
he kept his gaze forward. Most men would have stretched out their legs, but not
him. She believed he was a military man. It wasn’t just the neatly trimmed
hair, his straight Roman nose, or the way his shirt plastered to his no-fat
body. His eyes were intense and his jaw too tight, except for the moment when
he’d smiled. Boy, when he’d flashed that grin, her every fantasy had come to
life.

The blood dripping down her leg drew her back
to reality. The cut on her palm and scraps hurt like a bitch. When she hissed,
he pulled something white from his back pocket and handed it to her.

 
“Here, hold this over the cut and keep
even pressure to stop the blood flow.”

Since he seemed to know
something about medicine, she did as he suggested, but it stung even more when
she applied the force. She wanted to ask him a hundred questions, but speaking
in front of a cabbie might be a bad idea, especially if Trax had seen what she
saw. Instead, she sat quietly and nursed her wound. He didn’t talk either which
was fine by her.

When they’d gotten in the
cab, Trax had given the driver an address. How had he know where the clinics
were located? She wasn’t sure what to make of it. She’d lived in this town her
whole life and couldn’t rattle off the address of even one health clinic.

They didn’t drive far out of
the city center before they arrived at their destination. Okay, maybe this guy
was on the up and up.

He leaned over the front seat
and gave the cabbie a twenty. “Keep the change. We got your seat wet.”

His generosity impressed her.
He jumped out, rushed over to her side, and pulled open the door. When she stepped
out, he held her elbow.

This street had more traffic
than the alley, which would make it next to impossible for more
dogs to attack her
.

“Let’s get you inside.”

That was the best suggestion
she’d heard in a while. They entered the clinic and walked up to the desk.
“Crap.”

His body tensed. “What is
it?”

“My purse. I must have
dropped it by the dumpster. I have to go back.” Her life was in there. Not to
mention a gun and her mom’s diary. She’d taken two steps toward the door when
he stopped her.

“I’ll call my brother. He can
get it for you.”

She wanted to say she needed
to retrieve it herself, but that would mean Trax would insist on going with her
and that wouldn’t be fair to him. “He won’t mind?”

“Oh, he’ll mind all right,
but he’ll do it.”

What did that mean? She would
have objected, but she really needed her bag. He pulled out his phone and
stepped out of hearing range, as if he expected an ugly confrontation. The
conversation didn’t take long.

“Done.”

That was a relief, but there
was no guarantee the purse would still be there when his brother showed up. She
tried to concentrate on checking in with the woman at the counter but the
air-conditioning chilled her to the bone. She shivered. It was November. They
should be blowing warm, not cold, air.

The receptionist did appear
sympathetic about her missing purse. “Miss, do you have insurance?”

Beside her house payment and the utilities, she
always paid that bill
. She
wished her mom had kept up her own insurance payments. If she had, she might
have been able to afford counseling. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you sign in and
perhaps by the time the doctor is able to see you, your purse will arrive.”

“Thanks.” Liz tried to grip
the pen but with the bandage on her palm, she was unable to grasp it well
enough to write.

Trax removed the pen from her
hand. “Let me.”

Since her hand shook from the
effort, she was willing to let him handle the small detail of filling out her
registration. “Thanks.” She didn’t want to owe him too much, but how did one
repay someone for saving one’s life?

He asked her a series of
questions from the form. She gave him her name, address, phone number, and
emergency contact person. She had him list Chelsea, as she really was the
closest thing Liz had to a relative. The whole time, Trax’s expression didn’t
change, even when she stated her age and marital status. He seemed as if he was
used to doing this sort of thing.

After he handed the chart
back to the receptionist, he led her over to the chairs. “Start from the
beginning and tell me everything that happened.”

Well,
I tried to kill someone today by drugging him first. I was bemoaning the fact
the bastard didn’t even flinch when I gave him GHB, and as a result, I wasn’t
paying a lot of attention to where I was going. Out of the blue, a van tried to
run me over. Oh, and by the way, you didn’t happen to see some dogs change into
humans, did you?

“I’m not really sure. I had
just left work and was walking to my car when tires screeched behind me.” She
detailed how the van had run up on the sidewalk and then backed up before
driving down the alley. She then told him how after the car stopped, two
animals leapt from the van and charged. “Then you showed up.”

“Did you see the driver?”

“It was raining too hard to
see much of anything. To tell you the truth, I was only thinking of not getting
run over.” She should have noted the license plate and who was in the car, but she
had other things on her mind.

She expected Trax to scold her for not being
more observant, but his gaze was focused over her head as if he were trying to
figure something out. “Where do you work?”

It was too late to lie. “At
Au Pairs for U. Today was my first day.”

His eyes widened and his
pupils dilated. Flecks of amber burst through them, and her feminine side
thought she’d never seen a more beautiful man.

“Do like working there?”

“It was just one day.” How
good he was at spotting a lie? “But it was okay.”

“Do you think the van was
after you?”

Her mouth dropped open and
she sucked in several breaths as her heart pounded. “No, why would it be?”

She’d tossed away the concept that Couch was
aware she’d tried to lace his drink and had put a hit out on her minutes after
Trax arrived
. She really had
no idea what kind of man Couch was other than he’d raped her mom. No one had
filed criminal charges against him in the last twenty-three years that she
could find, and from the glowing articles written about him, he was a model
citizen. He’d married three years after the rape but that didn’t stop him from
coming after her mom many more times.