“That he’d had a minor accident some time back and he needed to get his car detailed anyway, he might as well replace the bumper,” Peter offered. “There wouldn’t be any reason for Denver to believe Raymond had run a car off the road, parked, shifted, and chased a bow hunter down.”

  “True. Let’s just hope the guy remains a good wolf and you don’t have to eliminate him too,” she said.

  “A red pickup is coming out of the garage,” Peter said.

  Great. Their backup wasn’t there yet.

  “Do you want us to follow him, assuming that’s Denver Peterson?” Michael asked.

  “Yeah. I need to wait and watch the house, making sure Raymond doesn’t leave if his truck is parked in the garage. I can’t see it from here.”

  The red pickup drove down the street away from them, and Michael started the engine and began to follow the car.

  “See? You did need our help, Peter,” Carmela said.

  “You were right all along. Keep the line open to keep me posted, will you?” Peter asked. “I hope the hell I don’t regret my decision.”

  “Yeah, sure.” She was glad they could help out further with this. She hated unfinished business, but especially in a case like this where her life, and Michael’s, could still be in danger. “I’m going to check and see if he works at a local hospital.”

  “Already on it,” Peter said. “It’s Mercy Hospital. I asked if he was in, and they said no, he’d taken leave for a few days because of a cousin who had a medical emergency.”

  “Bingo,” Michael said.

  “So he’s not going into work.” Carmela located the hospital. “His workplace is in the opposite direction of where he’s headed.”

  “You don’t think Raymond’s lying down in the back seat of the red pickup, do you?” Peter asked.

  “Could be. I did wonder if someone at the dealership had a run-in with police at some time or another and called Raymond to warn him you’ve got his damaged truck bumper and were asking about him,” Carmela said. “It looks like Denver’s headed out of town. He’s driving in the direction of Silver Town, though he’s using a different route than we took.”

  “Maybe he wants to turn Raymond in to us, but I doubt that it would be that simple,” Peter said.

  They’d continued to drive, and Peter finally told them that his deputized men had gotten to his location. They were going in to search the house. “I have a search warrant—readymade for any emergency when it comes to wolves. Is Denver still headed toward Silver Town?”

  “Yeah, he’s now on the road where I had the accident. Ohmigod,” Carmela said, looking in the rearview mirror. “We have a black pickup on our tail, and it looks suspiciously like Raymond’s truck.”

  “It’s Raymond’s truck,” Michael said, sounding angry. “I recognize the license plate, and he’s speeding up to catch up to us.”

  “Hell, we’re on our way,” Peter said.

  But she knew Peter and the other men would be too late.

  Eight

  Michael wondered now if Denver and Raymond had set this up to take Carmela and him out. Or was Denver unwittingly involved in this action?

  No matter what the circumstances, Michael had to protect Carmela at all costs. He knew she was going to be his mate sooner or later, and he didn’t want to lose her to some bastard seeking revenge.

  “I wish I had my bow,” she said, watching the sideview mirror.

  “It wouldn’t help against his truck. I wish I had my gun though.”

  “Me too. I mean, mine too.” She was gripping the dashboard, bracing for the worst.

  Michael knew the black pickup was about to ram them from behind, and he was hoping he could move fast enough to avoid the impact. Though he was thinking of saving their lives, he also was thinking about Carmela’s car and the trauma she would feel from driving it again if she suffered another bad car accident. If they lived through this.

  The truck was getting ready to slam into them, and Michael pulled into the oncoming lane, only because there was no traffic coming. But the truck followed them and again tried to slam into them. Michael turned the car into his own lane, the truck matching his maneuver. Michael knew they’d never make it. The truck was too well protected, weighed a ton, and the car was going to be a casualty. Michael was already flooring it and heading straight for the red pickup. He could imagine Raymond sending them crashing into the other truck and then hitting them from behind, turning Carmela’s car into an accordion.

  “He’s going to hit us. I can’t avoid it. If I get too close to the red pickup, we’re going to be sandwiched between the two vehicles.”

  “Can you just leave the road?” she asked.

  “We’ll crash.”

  “We’re going to anyway. Once he hits you, you won’t have any control over the car. If you slowed down and he hit you, the same thing would happen.”

  “I can’t do it, Carmela. If I leave the road and get us killed, it will all be my doing.”

  She ran her hand over his arm. “I’m ready.” She closed her eyes.

  “Here goes.” Michael felt the truck slam into their bumper, the jolt slamming into him, and he tried—without success—to stay on the road.

  She cried out.

  The car flew off the road and headed for a stand of trees. He slammed on the brakes, trying to stop the car from reaching the trees. “Are you okay?” They were still traveling at too high a speed through the leaves and brush.

  “Yeah, the red pickup truck parked down the road,” she said, peering through the window behind them. “Raymond parked his truck, and now he’s coming after us down the incline. He’s limping, but he’s got a rifle.”

  Michael tried turning the car to avoid hitting the trees so the airbags wouldn’t inflate and break through the windshield, but the car slid sideways into the trees. “Shit.” He’d made it impossible for Carmela to get out of the car on her side. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He opened his door, and she scrambled out after him. He grabbed her hand, and they ran behind the stand of trees and her car. They hurriedly stripped off their clothes.

  The red pickup was backing up along the road to reach them.

  Michael hoped Denver wasn’t armed with a rifle also. At least Raymond was having a difficult time coming after them. Raymond stopped to aim his rifle, and Michael and Carmela shifted, then ran as wolves, turning sharply to keep the cover of the trees between them, zigzagging like the army had taught them. Even so, Raymond was running after them as if he was so determined to get them, he was feeling no pain, and he kept stopping to fire rounds at them.

  Chips of wood went flying near Michael as a round hit a birch, and he thought as soon as the maniac ran out of bullets, he was coming around and killing him as a wolf.

  But Raymond must have had the same thought, and when he stopped shooting at them, Michael shifted and said to Carmela, “I’m going after him. The others might not make it in time to reach us, and we can’t let him get away.”

  She nodded.

  He knew she would go with him. He just hoped Denver didn’t cause trouble for them too.

  Then he shifted back into his wolf form, and they ran in a semicircle to reach Raymond. The mottled-colored wolf was ready for them, his emptied rifle and clothes in a pile on the leaf-littered forest floor.

  “Raymond! Come on, man, give it up!” someone shouted from closer to the highway, and Michael suspected it was his cousin, Denver.

  Michael just hoped Denver wouldn’t show up to protect his cousin. Michael might not be able to take out the two males if they were both wolves, but he’d do his damnedest to protect himself and Carmela, knowing she’d get into the fight to help out too.

  Michael couldn’t wait for Raymond to initiate the fight and tore into him.

  Carmela was observing the two wolves fighting, and she wasn’t interfering, for which he was glad. But he realized she was also watching for the person who was drawing closer to their location. Michael knew she’d tear into Denver if he acted threatening in the least. Michael just hoped the guy wouldn’t get involved. If he was a good guy, like his uncle had said he was, he wouldn’t. Then again, when it came to family…

  Despite Raymond’s hip wound, the bastard was a tough wolf to nail, though Michael repeatedly tried to take him down before the other guy showed up. Michael felt his own stitches ripping loose, damn it. He and Raymond were snarling and biting each other, each trying to get the advantage.

  Carmela suddenly growled low. Michael wanted to see what she was growling about, figuring it was Denver, but he had to keep his focus on the wolf who was trying to kill him and prayed that Carmela stayed safe.

  “I don’t know what this is all about,” the other man suddenly said, sounding desperate, but at least for the moment, he wasn’t getting involved. “Can’t we work something out?”

  Hell, no. Michael suspected that Denver didn’t know the truth of what had happened then. He might have thought that his cousin wasn’t in the wrong initially, except that Raymond had hit their vehicle and crashed it. Still, Denver might think that Michael had been the one at fault for some reason. Hopefully, Denver wouldn’t be naïve enough to believe it.

  Michael kept biting, trying to get a fatal hold on the wolf. Denver must have moved in their direction because Carmela raced at him growling and barking, her stance showing complete aggression, yet she was trying to stop him without tearing into him.

  Michael couldn’t be more grateful to her for being here for him…again. Then they heard vehicles slamming their brakes on the road. Men were shouting.

  With the other men coming, it was as if Raymond knew this was the end for him, and he wanted to finish Michael off now. He charged in with even more vigor and ripped opened another of Michael’s wounds. Michael retaliated, this time getting a bite onto Raymond’s throat that finished off the bastard. The wolf collapsed, and Denver cried out. Michael growled at Denver to stay back just in case he intended violence, but the man just ran his hands through his hair, tears trailing down his cheeks.

  Carmela started licking Michael with affection and concern. He was bleeding, but he could still walk, unlike the last time. This was the last time he was going to be involved in a wolf fight with one of these wolves, he thought with satisfaction.

  A couple of wolves howled, and Carmela lifted her chin and howled back to let them know they were safe. It didn’t take long before the wolves showed up. They nudged both Carmela and Michael and then howled to let the others know they had reached them and it was good news.

  Looking like he was in shock, Denver sank to his butt on the ground, staring at his dead cousin. Raymond was lying there in his human form now.

  Suddenly, Peter and Trevor were running as humans to see them, Jake and his brother Tom right behind him also.

  “Hell, it looks like you’re headed back to the hospital, Michael,” Jake said, carrying a bag of medical supplies. “Can you make it on your own this time?”

  Michael barked at him. No way did he need a stretcher, though he was certain he’d need some more stitches.

  Jake nodded, and Denver said, “Here, let me take care of him.” He gently wrapped Michael’s wounds as best he could.

  “You must be Denver, Raymond’s cousin,” Peter said as they headed back to the road and the vehicles. “I’m Sheriff Peter Jorgenson, and we’ll take care of Raymond’s body, unless you want to take him home to bury him.”

  Denver shook his head. Then he looked worried. “What happened exactly? He told me that a hunter had shot him with an arrow when he was running as a wolf. Raymond couldn’t do anything but try and make it home to me. Then I removed the arrow and put him on antibiotics. I didn’t report it to the police or take him to the hospital because he’d been running as a wolf. He said it was no problem. And we heal faster. He didn’t seem to have any sign of infection, so I thought everything was good. I took his truck in to have it detailed.”

  “And his truck’s front bumper had sustained damage, and red paint marks were left on the metal,” Peter said.

  “Yeah, he explained that someone had run into him in a parking lot and he wanted to replace the bumper at the same time.”

  Peter explained what had really happened.

  Denver frowned. “I didn’t know about any of it. I swear.”

  “Your uncle vouched for you,” Peter said. “He said you were a good man. But why were you headed in this direction? And how come Raymond followed you or knew to follow Carmela?”

  “His friends had been staying with me, and suddenly, they weren’t. I…I guess I was suspicious. They hadn’t packed up their stuff or anything. They just left everything behind, and they’d been with Raymond in his truck that day. He said he dropped them off at the bus station. Something just didn’t add up. I wondered if the other men had been running as wolves when he was shot. I asked him the location where he’d been shot, and he told me in this vicinity. He was on some powerful painkillers or I’m sure he wouldn’t have told me the location. I came out to check the area, just to see if he’d been telling me the truth.”

  “Michael told me he and Carmela found notes on the internet asking for help to remove an arrow from his hip. If he had you to extract it, why would he have asked for a way to deal with it?” Peter asked.

  Denver let out his breath. “I was the one who posted about it. I’ve helped with a lot of surgeries, but I’ve never removed an arrow from anybody. I was checking to see if anyone knew how to do it successfully. I found an interview for an ER doctor who was asked how to take care of an arrow wound, and he said to just apply the regular lifesaving techniques. He’d never had a patient like that, so he really didn’t know for sure. And then there were ancient documents on how to deal with an arrow wound, but those weren’t really useful. Too antiquated. So I did the best I could, and with our healing genetics…” Denver paused. “Well, if he’d lived, I think he would have come through just fine. He might have had a slight limp though.

  “I…I just can’t believe I was taken in by Raymond’s lies. I’d met the other men and didn’t like them. When I saw my cousin hit your car, I backed up to see if I could help you and couldn’t believe he was in a wolf fight to the death.”

  “What do you want us to do about his body?” Peter asked.

  “He wronged your pack members. It would be hard for me to take him back and have a regular funeral for him after he’d been chewed up by a wolf. My thanks for taking care of him, like I suspect you did with the others.”

  “What about his truck?” Peter asked.

  “I’ll ask my uncle if he could use Raymond’s new truck if you can hold onto it for a bit,” Denver said.

  “We’ll impound it, and you can pick it up anytime you like,” Jake said.

  They reached the vehicles, and Jake shook Denver’s hand and wished him well while some of the other men carried Raymond to the back of Peter’s pickup truck where Raymond’s damaged bumper rested. Others gathered Michael’s, Carmela’s, and Raymond’s clothes, and then a tow truck had been dispatched to retrieve Carmela’s car. This time, she jumped into the back seat of Jake’s vehicle with Michael. He was glad they were together on the ride to the hospital. And he was relieved that Raymond was dead. But he hated that her brand-new car was damaged.

  Carmela shifted and began getting dressed. They would drive around to the back of the clinic to take Michael in as a wolf—easier that way.

  When they finally arrived at the clinic and slipped in the back way, Michael gently grabbed Carmela’s hand with his teeth and pulled her toward an exam room, not waiting for a nurse to tell him which way to go. He didn’t want to risk any human who might be at the clinic seeing him, and he wanted Carmela with him. She was carrying his clothes so he could dress after Doc sewed him up.

  Nurse Grey came into the room and placed a gown on the chair for Michael. “Doctor Weber is coming.”

  Michael had barely shifted when Doctor Weber came into the exam room and shook his head. Michael sat on the exam table and placed the gown on his lap. He felt the stinging and burning of fresh bites and the older ones all over his back.

  Doctor Weber said, “When I patch up my patients, I don’t expect them to return with all kinds of new wounds. And the old wounds are not to be reopened.”

  “I promise I won’t let it happen again, Doc,” Michael said, winking at a worried-looking Carmela, who left his clothes on the chair and came over to hold his hand and stroked it, giving him comfort while the doc sewed up his wounds. He appreciated her for it, but he wanted to take her into his arms and let her know just how ready he was for other business. His wounds wouldn’t slow him down.

  “Is the rogue wolf dead for good this time?” Doc asked.

  “Hell, yeah.” Michael was damn glad of it too.

  “Good.” Then Doc smiled.

  “We can’t keep courting like this,” Michael said to Carmela, kissing her hand.

  She leaned over and kissed Michael’s mouth with a tender touch. The doctor cleared his throat. “I’m trying to take his mind off you sewing him up,” she said.

  “Just get it over with and mate her,” Doc said to Michael.

  “Okay, we will.” She gave Michael a beautiful smile with a hint of sassiness.

  “Hurry up, Doc. Are you sure you need to sew all those wounds up?” Michael was impatient to get to the really important business at hand.

  “You’re Special Forces, so I’ve been told on numerous different occasions. Grin and bear it,” Doc said.

  Michael frowned. “That’s not what I meant.” But he suspected the doctor very well knew that. He seemed to have a really dry sense of humor.

  “No charge for either visit. Darien said the pack has got it covered,” Doc said.

  “Thanks.” Michael should have joined the pack a long time ago.